Chaucer and the elder Poets, the honours formerly
paid to this flower.--W. W. 1815.]

[Footnote C: This Poem, and two others to the same Flower, which the
Reader will find in the second Volume, were written in the year 1802;
which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the
manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of
the expressions, they bear a striking resemblance to a Poem (lately
published) of Mr. Montgomery, entitled, 'A Field Flower'. This being
said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot
however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets:

'Though it happe me to rehersin--
That ye han in your freshe songis saied,
Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied,
Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour
Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour.'

W. W. 1807.

In the edition of 1836, the following variation of the text of this note
occurs: "There is a resemblance to passages in a Poem."--Ed.]

For illustration of the last stanza, see Chaucer's Prologue to 'The
Legend of Good Women'.

'As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May,
That in my bed ther daweth me no day,
That I nam uppe and walkyng in the mede,
To seen this floure agein the sonne sprede,
Whan it up rysith erly by the morwe;
That blisful sight softneth al my sorwe,
So glad am I, whan that I have presence
Of it, to doon it alle reverence,
As she that is of alle floures flour.'
...
To seen this flour so yong, so fresshe of hewe,
Constreynde me with so gredy desire,
That in myn herte I feele yet the fire,
That made me to ryse er yt wer day,
And this was now the firste morwe of May,
With dredful hert, and glad devocioun
For to ben at the resurreccion
Of this flour, whan that yt shulde unclose
Agayne the sonne, that roos as rede as rose
...
And doune on knes anoon ryght I me sette,
And as I koude, this fresshe flour I grette,
Knelying alwey, til it unclosed was,
Upon the smale, softe, swote gras.

Again, in The 'Cuckoo and the Nightingale', after a wakeful night, the
Poet rises at dawn, and wandering forth, reaches a "laund of white and
green."

'So feire oon had I nevere in bene,
The grounde was grene, y poudred with dayse,
The floures and the gras ilike al hie,
Al grene and white, was nothing elles sene.'

Ed.

* * * * *

TO THE SAME FL