in yearth under the Moone,
Poore and riche; and all so soone
As they were come into the hall
They gan on knees doune to fall
Before this ilke noble queene.
"_Madame,_" sayd they, "_we bee_
_Folke that here besechen thee_
_That thou graunt us now good fame,_
_And let our workes have good name;_
_In full recompensacioun_
_Of good worke, give us good renoun._"
And some of hem she graunted sone,
And some she warned well and faire,
And some she graunted the _contraire_.
Now certainly I ne wist how,
Ne where that Fame dwelled or now,
Ne eke of her descripcion,
Ne also her condicion,
Ne the order of her _dome_
Knew I not till I hider come.
* * * * * *
At the last I saw a man,
Which that I nought ne can,
But he semed for to bee,
A man of great auctoritie
And therewithall I abraide,
Out of my slepe halfe afraide,
Remembring well what I had sene,
And how hie and farre I had bene
In my gost, and had great wonder
Of that the God of thonder
Had let me knowen, and began to write
Like as you have herd me endite,
Wherefore to study and rede alway,
I purpose to do day by day.
Thus in dreaming and in game,
Endeth this litell booke of Fame.

We are indebted for this interesting communication to our correspondent
A. E. B., whose admirable ILLUSTRATIONS OF CHAUCER in our columns have
given so much pleasure to the admirers of the old poet. Our correspondent
has sent it to us in the hope that it may be made available in helping
forward the good work of restoring Chaucer's tomb. We trust it will. The
Committee who have undertaken that task could, doubtless, raise the hundred
pounds required, by asking those who have already come forward to help
them, to change their Crown subscriptions into Pounds. With a right feeling
for what is due to the poet, they prefer, however, accomplishing the end
they have in view by small contributions from the admiring many, rather
than by larger contributions from the few. As we doubt not we number among
the readers of "NOTES AND QUERIES" many admirers of

"Old Dan Chaucer, in whose gentle spright,
The pure well-head of poetry did dwell,"

to them we appeal, that the monument which was erected by the affectionate
respect of Nicholas Brigham, nearly three centuries ago, may not in our
time be permitted to crumble into dust; reminding them, in Chaucer's own
beautiful language,

"That