But though we speak of Chaucer as bookish and scholarly, it must not be supposed that he aimed at, or possessed the nice critical discernment, with respect to the literary work of others, which we now associate with highest scholarly attainments; it may well happen that his bookish allusions are not always “by the letter,” or that he may misquote, or strain a point in interpretation. He lived before the days of exegetical niceties. He is attracted by large effects; he searches for what may kindle his enthusiasms, and put him upon his own trail of song. Books were nothing to him if they did not bring illumination; where he could snatch that, he burrowed--but always rather toward the light than toward the depths. He makes honey out of coarse flowers; not so sure always--nor much caring to be sure--of the name and habitudes of the plants he rifles. He stole not for the theft’s sake, but for the honey’s sake; and he read not for cumulation of special knowledges, but to fertilize and quicken his own spontaneities. Nor was this poet ever so shapen to close study, but the woods or the birds or the flowers of a summery day would take the bend from his back, and straighten him for a march into the fields: ----There is gamë none, That from my bookës maketh me to gone, Save certainly whan that the month of Maie Is comen, and that I heare the foulës sing, And that the flowris ginnen for to spring-- Farewell my booke, and my devocion! And swift upon this in that musical “Legende of Good Women,” comes his rhythmical crowning of the Daisy--never again, in virtue of his verse, to be discrowned-- ----above all the flowris in the mede Thanne love I moste these flowris white and rede; Soche that men callin Daisies in our toun To ’hem I have so grete affectionn As I said erst, whan comin is the Maie, That in my bedde there dawith me no daie That I n’ am up, and walking in the mede To sene this floure ayenst the sunnë sprede, As she that is of all flowris the floure, Fulfilled of all vertue and honoure And evir alikë faire and freshe, of hewe, And evir I love it and ever alikë newe. These lines of his have given an everlasting perfume to that odorless flower. How it befell that this son of a vintner came first to have close association with members of the royal household--household of the great Edward III.--we cannot tell; but it is certain that he did come at an early day to have position in the establishment of the King’s son, Prince Lionel, Duke of Clarence; he was sometime valet, too, of Edward III., and in other years a familiar _protégé_ of John of Gaunt--putting his poet’s gloss upon courtly griefs and love-makings.