“Within six miles, no further, shalt thou light
(Pursued the hermit) “on the bloody seat,
“Where dwells a giant, horrible to sight,
“Exceeding every stature by eight feet.
“From him wayfaring man or errant knight
“Would vainly hope with life to make retreat;
“For some the felon quarters, some he flays,
“And tome he swallows quick, and some he slays.
Stanza xliii.
This episode of Caligorant, we are told, is an odd allegory which relates to a heretic author of the day, who entangled men in his sophistries, as the giant does in his net, and whose defeat and conversion are typified in Caligorant’s capture and subsequent docility.
As in hill-farm or castle, fenced with moat,
The hunter, mindful what his dangers were,
Aye fastens on his door the shaggy coat
And horrid paws and monstrous head of bear;
So showed the giant those of greatest note,
Who, thither brought, had perished in his snare.
The bones of countless others wide were spread,
And every ditch with human blood was red.
Stanza l.
These horrible ornaments of buildings are not unprecedented in the old romances and fabliaux. In Sir Libius Disconnus (le beau desconnu, or beautiful unknown) we have a specimen of them, as well as in the “Mule without a bridle,” the best versified of all the fabliaux translated by Mr. Way.
These works, I have already observed (making a due allowance for exaggeration), reflect the real manners of the times; and some are now alive who can recollect a relique of this custom in the heads exposed over Temple Bar.
Mr. George Ellis would seem to conjecture that the singular capitals of columns which encircle one of the public buildings
