r pathetic interest.
He had begun it in 1160, in obedience to a command of Henry II, but
for some unknown reason Henry later transferred the honour to another
poet. Wace laid aside his pen, left his work incomplete, and probably
soon after died.

"Since the king has asked him to do this work, I must leave it and I
must say no more. Of old the king did me many a favour; much he gave
me, more he promised me, and if he had given all that he promised me,
it had been better for me. Here ends the book of Master Wace; let him
continue it who will." [2]

Some twenty years earlier, in 1155, Wace had completed the _Roman de
Brut_. He himself called it the _Geste des Bretons_ ("History of the
Britons"), but it is best known under the title that appears in the
manuscripts, the _Roman de Brut_, given to it by scribes because of its
connection with Brutus, the founder of the British race. The Brut is a
reproduction in verse of Geoffrey's _Historia_. To call it a translation
is almost to give it a misnomer, for although Wace follows exactly
the order and substance of the _Historia_, he was more than a mere
translator, and was too much of a poet not to impress his own
individuality upon his work. He makes some few additions to
Geoffrey's Arthurian history, but his real contribution to the legend
is the new spirit that he put into it. In the first place his vehicle
is the swift-moving French octo-syllabic couplet, which alone gives
an entirely different tone to the narrative from that of Geoffrey's
high-sounding Latin prose. Wace, moreover, was Norman born and Norman
bred, and he inherited the possessions of his race--a love of fact,
the power of clear thought, the appreciation of simplicity, the
command of elegance in form. Such a spirit indeed was his as in a
finer type had already expressed itself in Caen in the two noble
abbeys, under whose shadow he passed the greater part of his life,
the dignified and sternly simple Abbaye-aux-Hommes of William the
Conqueror and the graceful, richly ornamented Abbaye-aux-Dames of
Queen Matilda. Sincerity and truth Wace ever aims at, but he
embellishes his narrative with countless imaginative details. As a
narrator he has the tendency to garrulity, which few mediaeval poets
altogether escaped, but he is by no means without conversational
charm, and in brief sentences abounding in colloquial turns, he leads
us easily on with seldom flagging interest even through those pages
where he is most incl