20 PROLOGUE
TO
THE
TYNEMOUTH
TALES
Ther is a teamen of greet renoun That came fro scole at Tinmouthe Toune, Bifel that in that season on a day, If wel the scene of bataille I purtreye, Ready to wenden on their pilgrimage To Morpethe with ful devout corage. At mortal batailles hadde they been fiftene But nevere such a pitchen hadde they seen. like one of hem in clothes smerte, And ilke teamen weyted for the sterte, And ilke one thoght it was very harshe To maken playe the game upon a marshe. They were as fresshe as is the monthe of May, And greet the dinne before they gan to play. A stalwart of the scole y-clept Dickee, (Ful loude he songe " Com hider love to me ") Was yelling threats that sounded dyre But slipt and floundered in the myre. The scrumen now began to forme around But sanken in and fille into the ground. But now algate fro out the mudde ther wriggles First Paddy, then McQueen, and Wiggles. The ballen now began to flie aboute And passe fro hande to hande amidde the route; And they were cladde in cote and hoode of broun For ech of hem hadde ofte fallen doun; But of their port as meke as is a mayde, They nevere yet no vilainye ne sayde, And special in his lvf no maner Wight. It was a verrav parfit gentil fight. CHAUCER, Form X. ON W R I T I N G AN
ESSAY
When perusing one of the masterpieces of such eminent essayists as Leigh Hunt or Lamb, with the words, phrases, and sentences so beautifully moulded together; with such smooth-gliding style and a rich depth of meaning, we feel when writing our essays, as if we are vainly reaching upward for that which is unattainable, as a small child tries to grasp a door-fhanldle. We (feel within ourselves as we labour. painfully over sentence-constructions, that we may never be given the satisfaction of having achieved what thev have, namely, to have composed the perfect essay. On Wednesday evening, at about six o'clock, a boy may be observed seated at a table, reading over the essays, one of which has to be handed in by the Friday. He can hear faintly in the distance, the voices of the rest of the family, chatting round the dining-room fire, which he has just left, the noise rendering impossible the task of concentrating. Any ideas which had ever entered his head concerning those five or six subjects, immediately seem to vanish into the black obscurity whence they came. By slow degrees the essay-titles which seem the least inspiring, he rejects, with the result that one remains. Then comes the great question of sorting out the ideas which have shyly re-entered his mind, into something a little more orderly than the confused muddle in which they exist at present. At last, however, the preliminaries are passed over, and the essay itself begins to form. Bv this time, darkness js beginning to fall, and the grey dusk creeps into the room through the window, filling the corners with eerie shadows, and so, while the essay is just progressing pleasantly, he js interrupted in the middle of some fantastic simile, and ordered by some member of the family-to put the " b l a c k o u t " up everywhere.