Since an understanding of Chaucer is a vivid introduction to the later Middle Ages, it is essential for students of that period to have some acquaintance with the common literary types of Chaucer's day. The translations gathered together in this book are representative of these types,—debate, vision, allegory, saints' legends, pious tales, satire, and lay. Few examples of secular literature are given, for the most satisfactory way to approach the secular poetry of the time is to read parts, at least, of the "Romance of the Rose," which has been translated, very freely, by F. S. Ellis.[1] This long poem is a compendium of the ideals, manners, and tastes of the fashionable world of France and of England. The machinery of dream, personification, and allegory; the descriptions of nature and of dress; the attitude towards the god of love and his fabled court; the satire; and the pedantry are all highly significant facts in the history of literature. Knowing this romance, one knows the heart of thirteenth century Paris. The Troubadours,[2] too, should be studied for the sake of understanding one side of lyric poetry. All this secular poetry, however, does not account for Chaucer, who was indebted also to a stream of influence coming from religious legends and allegories. The deeper side of his nature responded to the appeal of pious tales and records of saintly lives; superstitions about nature and about God attracted his interest, and stirred him to that effective contemplation which resulted in clear, sane judgments. Religious poetry was, first and last, familiar matter to the great court poet, and we should recognize its characteristics and its sovereign appeal. We must remember that the world of the Middle Ages was essentially and positively Catholic. From birth to death the layman was under the guardianship of Holy Church, and bound by the most solemn vows to perfect obedience. Yet, although there seems to be a certain conventionality in his performance of these duties, there was a very lively concern regarding that other world toward which he was moving. Close to the spiritual ecstasy of such lives as that of Saint Francis, or of Saint Catherine, or of the uncanonized Richard Rolle, there was a dim, frightened foreboding that perhaps Evil might prove the triumphant force. Love of God was no stronger than fear of the devil. Tales of the black magic of Satan as well as of the white magic of the church were eagerly listened to by a people quick to show their interest in any manifestation of the supernatural. Crude and childish as their faiths and superstitions may seem to a more liberal age, there is something impressive in their deep conviction of hidden truths. When we lose all sense of mystery and of wonder and are wholly free from any illusions, life becomes singularly vapid, for the very key to spiritual existence is a sense of infinite meanings forever challenging, baffling, and dominating our daily life.