The epic poetry of southern, like and on the same principle as that of northern France, may be broadly divided into the popular, and the artistic or individual narrative. The two classes differ as widely as possible both as regards metrical form and poetical treatment. The popular epic was sung or chanted to a monotonous tune, the artistic recited. The former uses frequently the assonance (identity of vowels, but difference of consonants) in strophes or tirades of varying length; the latter, exclusively rhyme in couplets. The popular epic is fond of introducing standing formulas and epithets, and the recurrence of similar situations or motives is marked by the naïve repetition of the identical phrase. The poet himself disappears behind his work; he is nothing but the mouthpiece of popular feeling and tradition. Different from this, the artistic poet takes individual shape in his work. He groups his material with conscious study of narrative effects, frequently adds new inventions to the legend he treats, and is fond of interrupting the narrative by reflections of his own, moral or otherwise as the case may be. Of the popular epic very few specimens remain, and of these few one at least, the ‘Ferabras,’ seems a translation from the North-French. The representative poem of the class is the old Provençal epic, ‘Girart de Rossilho,’ a splendid example of early mediæval spirit, crude in sentiment and diction, coarse and irregular in its metrical structure, but powerful and of sterling quality, like the hero it celebrates. Like the ‘Chanson de Roland’—the representative epic of Northern France—Girart de Rossilho belongs to the Carlovingian circle of legendary lore. But there is a considerable difference between the two poems as regards the conception of the Carlovingian idea, if that modern term may be allowed. The older French poem shows the great Emperor in full possession of his power, and surrounded by his loyal Peers. The younger Provençal epic reflects the revolutionary spirit of the great vassals under the weak descendants of the great Charles. Its hero, indeed, Girart of Rossilho, is the head of these rebellious barons, and his brave deeds in the wars with his feudal lord are held up to admiration, while, on the other hand, the Emperor Charles Martel (evidently a mistake on the part of the minstrel for Charles the Bald, correctly reintroduced in a later French version) is made the embodiment of meanness and treachery. After perusing Girart’s exploits, some of them of a rather doubtful character according to our notions, it is satisfactory to know that he at least departed life with a clean bill of morality. The author himself seems to feel somewhat uneasy on the subject. ‘But,’ he argues, ‘if Girart did great evil at first, he made full and speedy compensation at last, for he did great penance in a cloister—which he himself built beautifully and at great cost.’ There he is said to have supported amongst other pious personages