ecret of its vogue, as
of all such vogues, is that it faithfully held up the mirror to the
later middle ages. In no single book can that period of history be so
conveniently studied. Its inherited religion and its nascent
free-thought; its thirst for knowledge and its lack of criticism; its
sharp social divisions and its indistinct aspirations after liberty and
equality; its traditional morality and asceticism, and its half-pagan,
half-childish relish for the pleasures of sense; its romance and its
coarseness, all its weakness and all its strength, here appear.

[Sidenote: Imitations.]

The imitations of the _Roman de la Rose_ were in proportion to its
popularity. Much of this imitation took place in other kinds of poetry,
which will be noticed hereafter. Two poems, however, which are almost
contemporary with its earliest form, and which have only recently been
published, deserve mention. One, which is an obvious imitation of
Guillaume de Lorris, but an imitation of considerable merit, is the
_Roman de la Poire_[89], where the lover is besieged by Love in a tower.
The other, of a different class, and free from trace of direct
imitation, is the short poem called _De Venus la Deesse d'Amors_[90],
written in some three hundred four-lined stanzas, each with one rhyme
only. Some passages of this latter are very beautiful.

Three extracts, two from the first part of the _Roman de la Rose_, and
one from the second, will show its style:--

En iceli tens deliteus,
Que tote riens d'amer s'esfroie,
Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie,
Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant,
Qu'il estoit matin durement;
De mon lit tantost me levai,
Chaucai-moi et mes mains lavai.
Lors trais une aguille d'argent
D'un aguiller mignot et gent,
Si pris l'aguille a enfiler.
Hors de vile oi talent d'aler,
Por oir des oisiaus les sons
Qui chantoient par ces boissons
En icele saison novele;
Cousant mes manches a videle,
M'en alai tot seus esbatant,
Et les oiseles escoutant,
Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient
Par ces vergiers qui florissoient,
Jolis, gais et pleins de leesce.
Vers une riviere m'adresce
Que j'oi pres d'ilecques bruire.
Car ne me soi aillors deduire
Plus bel que sus cele riviere.
D'un tertre qui pres d'iluec iere
Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide,
Clere, bruiant et aussi froide
Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine,
Et estoit poi mend