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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30235 ***
+
+Transcriber's Notes: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
+corrected. A complete list follows the text. Words italicized in the
+original are surrounded by _underscores_. Words in bold in the original
+are surrounded by =equal signs=. Characters superscripted in the original
+are inclosed in {} brackets. More Transcriber's Notes follow the text.
+
+
+                       Select English Classics
+
+
+
+
+                       SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH
+                                POETRY
+
+                         TENNYSON TO CHAUCER
+
+                  _TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM THE GREAT
+                                POETS_
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                         JAMES BALDWIN, PH.D.
+
+                      AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK LOVER"
+                              ETC., ETC.
+
+
+                      SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
+                 NEW YORK . . . BOSTON . . . CHICAGO
+
+
+                           COPYRIGHT 1892,
+                    BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
+
+
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
+
+
+This is the first volume of a series of SELECT ENGLISH CLASSICS which
+the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an
+extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of
+English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in
+schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens
+from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose;
+selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; choice extracts from the writings
+of the great essayists; selections from famous English allegories; a
+volume of elegies and elegiacal poetry; studies of English prose
+fiction, with illustrative specimens, etc. Each volume will contain
+copious notes, critical, explanatory, and biographical, besides the
+necessary vocabularies, glossaries, and indexes; and the series when
+complete will present a varied and comprehensive view of all that is
+best in English literature. For supplementary reading, as well as for
+systematic class instruction, the books will possess many peculiarly
+valuable as well as novel features; while their attractive appearance,
+combined with the sterling quality of their contents, will commend them
+for general reading and make them desirable acquisitions for every
+library.
+
+
+
+
+TO TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.
+
+
+There is but one study more interesting than the history of literature,
+and that is the study of literature itself. That the former should often
+be mistaken for the latter is scarcely to be wondered at when we
+consider the intimate and almost indivisible relationship existing
+between them. Yet, in truth, they are as capable of separate
+consideration as are music and the history of music.
+
+[Sidenote: Anglo-Saxon Poetry.]
+
+[Sidenote: The Transition Period.]
+
+Any careful investigation of the history of English poetry would
+naturally begin at a point of time some six or seven hundred years
+earlier than that of Chaucer. From such investigation we should learn
+that even as early as the ninth century--perhaps, indeed, the
+eighth--there were in England some composers of verse in the Anglo-Saxon
+tongue; that the songs of these poets were chiefly of religion or of
+war, and that being written in a language very different from our modern
+English they can scarcely be considered as belonging properly to our
+literature; that among them, however, is a noble poem, "Beowulf," the
+oldest epic of any modern people, which was probably sung or recited by
+pagan minstrels long before it was written down in permanent form; that,
+after the conquest of England by the Normans, the early language of the
+English people underwent a long and tedious process of transition,--a
+blending, in a certain sense, with the Latinized and more polished
+tongue of their conquerors,--and that the result was the language which
+we now call English and are proud to claim as our own; that it was about
+three hundred years after the Norman Conquest, namely, in 1362, that
+this new tongue was officially recognized and authorized to be used in
+the courts at law throughout the land; and that about the same time
+Geoffrey Chaucer composed and wrote his first poems. We should learn,
+moreover, that, during the transition period mentioned above, there were
+many attempts at writing poetry, resulting in the production of tedious
+metrical romances (chiefly translated from the French) and interminable
+rhyming chronicles, pleasing, of course, to the people of that time, but
+wholly devoid of poetic excellence and unspeakably dull to modern
+readers; that these poems, so called, were little better than rhymed
+doggerels, written in couplets of eight-syllabled lines and having for
+their subjects the miraculous deeds of saints and heroes and the
+occurrence of supernatural or impossible phenomena; that the composers
+of these metrical romances and chronicles, although giving free rein to
+the imagination, were utterly destitute of poetic fancy and hence
+produced no true poetry; that, nevertheless, some writer was now and
+then inspired by a flash of real poetic fire, producing a few lines of
+remarkable freshness and beauty,--little lyrics shining forth like gems
+in the great mass of verbiage and rubbish and foretelling the glorious
+possibilities which were to be realized in the future.
+
+[Sidenote: Piers Ploughman.]
+
+Continuing this most interesting study, we should learn that just at the
+time that Chaucer was beginning the composition of his immortal works,
+there appeared an allegorical poem of considerable length, so earnest in
+tone, so richly imaginative, so full of picturesque descriptions, that
+it seemed rather a fulfilment than a prophecy; that this poem--called
+"The Vision of William concerning Piers Ploughman," and written by an
+obscure monk whose name was probably William Langland--was the greatest
+poem and the most popular that had ever been written in England, and yet
+that it failed in many ways of being true English poetry: its metre was
+irregular, and its rhythm was imperfect; its verses instead of rhyming
+were constructed in accordance with certain rules of alliteration; its
+subjects, while interesting, no doubt, to those for whom it was written,
+were not such as bring into play the highest powers of the imagination
+or incite the poetic fancy to its noblest flights. Then we should learn
+that while the ink from good Langland's pen was yet scarcely dry after
+his third revision of "Piers Ploughman," Geoffrey Chaucer came forward
+with his sweet imaginings bodied in immortal verse, his tuneful numbers,
+his "well of English undefiled,"--and English poetry, which now for more
+than five centuries has been the chief glory of our literature, had its
+true beginning.
+
+[Sidenote: Three Schools of Poetry.]
+
+Pursuing the study on lines which would now be more distinctly marked,
+we should observe that Chaucer's best poetry, as well as that of the
+poets who followed him in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was
+distinguished by its truthfulness to nature, by its expression in hearty
+and harmonious words of the finer emotions of the soul, and by the
+freedom and elasticity of its versification. We should learn that in the
+seventeenth century this style of poetry--sometimes called the
+romantic--was succeeded by another and very different fashion in poetic
+composition, introduced into England in imitation of continental and
+classical models: that this new style of versification--ignoring nature
+and making everything subservient to art--was purely artificial,
+characterized by "an oratorical pomp, a classical correctness, a
+theatrical dressing, abundance of moralizing"; and that, with Waller for
+its sponsor and Dryden and Pope for its high priests, it remained for a
+century and a half the favorite of the literary world, the model of
+poetic diction, the standard of poetic taste. We should learn that,
+towards the end of the eighteenth century, certain writers began to
+perceive that although attention to artistic rules in composition may be
+necessary to the best poetry, yet natural feeling, a cultivated
+imagination, and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations
+are even more indispensable; that these writers, rebelling against the
+established order of things, taught that there are elements of true
+poetry in the popular ballads of earlier times, that even the wearisome
+metrical romances of the Middle Ages are rich in suggestiveness and in
+materials for a nobler poetry, and that, instead of going to the
+classics and to society for subjects and models, the poet may find them
+in nature, in the life which is about him, and in a thousand sources
+never before suspected. Finally, we should learn that, at the very time
+when great revolutions in politics and philosophy were being
+inaugurated, a new spirit thus began to manifest itself in our
+literature,--a spirit of revolt against artificial restrictions and
+traditional methods,--which produced a glorious revival in English
+poetic composition and ushered in a third great school of poetry,
+distinguished for its breadth and freedom, as that which it superseded
+had been known for its elegance and precision.[6:1]
+
+[Sidenote: The History of English Poetry.]
+
+A study of the development of English poetry such as we have outlined
+above would involve a knowledge of the history of the English people and
+of the various circumstances and events which from time to time
+influenced our language and literature. It would also embrace many other
+topics, biographical, philological, rhetorical, and speculative, which
+have only a secondary relationship to the central idea of poetry. In
+fact, it would be a study not of poetry, but about poetry,--of the
+circumstances which suggested it, of the men who produced it, and of the
+origin of the word-forms and methods of versification which distinguish
+it. Such a study, altogether interesting and eminently profitable though
+it be, should not be undertaken by any student until he has acquired an
+extensive personal acquaintance with poetry itself. We may enjoy the
+beautiful creations of Tennyson, of Shelley, of Burns, even of Chaucer,
+without knowing one word of the history of poetry, without so much as
+knowing the names of the writers or the circumstances under which they
+wrote. But, on the other hand, to him who knows nothing of the
+masterpieces of our literature, save at second hand, the history of
+English letters must of necessity be dull, uninteresting, and often
+unintelligible. While to him who has prepared himself for its study by
+fitting himself for an appreciation of these noble creations and
+becoming thoroughly imbued with their spirit, what a field of delightful
+study does it offer!
+
+[Sidenote: Object of this Book.]
+
+[Sidenote: Methods of Study.]
+
+The object of the present compilation is to aid in this preparatory
+work,--that is, to offer a plan for promoting the study OF poetry before
+the broader but less important study ABOUT poetry is undertaken. To this
+end we present for the student's consideration a few representative
+poems written at different times and by men of widely different tastes
+and talents during the six centuries which may be said to have elapsed
+since the formation of the modern English tongue. Our chief aim is to
+lead to such a study of these selections as shall help the reader to
+perceive and appreciate their true poetic qualities and enter into full
+sympathy with the thoughts and feelings which their writers intended to
+express. The first object to be sought in the study of these poems is
+the perception of those characteristic excellences which have made them
+universally admired and placed them among the classics of our language.
+To accomplish this object rationally and successfully, it is best to
+begin with those productions which are nearest to us in point of time
+and which are more in harmony with our own thoughts, and therefore
+easiest to understand and enjoy. An attempt to pursue these studies in
+chronological order, beginning with the works of Chaucer and the older
+poets, would oblige the student to encounter at the outset so many
+purely mechanical difficulties that he would fail to discern the
+spiritual qualities of truth, beauty, and goodness, which are the very
+essence of all genuine poetry. He would very naturally acquire a
+distaste for poetry long before he was able to understand it, and while
+he might attain to some considerable knowledge of the history of
+poetical literature, that literature itself would remain to him
+practically a sealed book. Hence, in the study of this subject, as in
+that of other branches, the true method is to present first that which
+is the least difficult, to "proceed from the known to the unknown," to
+begin with that which is near at hand and from it to proceed to the
+consideration of things more remote. Not only are the most of Tennyson's
+poems easily understood, but their beauty is readily apparent even to
+the most superficial readers. By the time we have read and extracted all
+the sweets from three or four of these, we shall be prepared to go a
+step farther and undertake the study of Wordsworth's immortal
+productions,--productions but little more difficult and but little less
+poetic. Thus, step by step, we may review the six centuries of English
+poetry which lie behind, and when at last we reach the time of Chaucer
+we shall be able to take hold of his works with understanding and with
+the zest which is begotten of true sympathy and appreciation. After the
+book has been thus completed, it may be well to run through it again,
+reversing the order of the lessons and this time considering the
+subjects in strict chronological order. Our first study of the book will
+have introduced us to English poetry, our second study of it will have
+given us some insight into the history of its development.
+
+It is well to remember, while pursuing this course, that a taste for
+poetry is not acquired or fostered by an analysis of grammatical forms
+or by any study of words merely as such. To analyze a puzzling sentence
+or to trace the derivation of an interesting word to its roots sometimes
+helps one to understand a difficult expression or to perceive in it a
+meaning hitherto unsuspected; but to make the study of any selection
+consist largely of exercises of this kind is to substitute grammar or
+philology for literature. So, also, should it be borne in mind that
+while it is often interesting and sometimes necessary to become
+acquainted with certain details relative to the life of an author--the
+date of his birth, the character of his education, the influences which
+shaped his life and his work--yet such knowledge belongs to biography
+and is in no sense literature. The study of authors should never be
+substituted for the study of their works, and is usually profitable only
+so far as it helps the student to understand the peculiarities which
+distinguish those works and which are the result of certain personal
+characteristics. And yet it is no uncommon thing to find students
+acquainted with the minutest particulars in the lives of the great
+writers, while of the masterpieces of thought and expression, which are
+the glory of our literature, they betray a deplorable ignorance. Nor is
+this the case with pupils at school alone. "For once that we take down a
+Milton, and read a book of that 'voice,' as Wordsworth says, 'whose
+sound is like the sea,' we take up fifty times a magazine with something
+about Milton, or about Milton's grandmother, or a book stuffed with
+curious facts about the houses in which he lived, and the juvenile
+ailments of his first wife."[9:1]
+
+[Sidenote: Practical Suggestions.]
+
+In the study of the selections contained in this volume, the following
+method is recommended:--
+
+1. The piece should be thoroughly committed to memory.
+
+2. It should be recited or read by each member of the class in such
+manner as to bring out, if possible, his understanding of the meaning of
+every passage.
+
+3. Study the poem as a whole, and let each pupil point out the beauties
+of thought or expression which distinguish it as a poetical composition.
+
+4. Now study each stanza, or each independent thought, in its order, and
+endeavor to understand each word or expression just as the poet intended
+that it should be understood. The Notes appended to most of the
+selections are intended rather to suggest the line of study in this
+regard than to serve as exhaustive aids. The pupil should, so far as
+possible, investigate for himself and make his own discoveries.
+Questions concerning the derivation of words and the syntax of sentences
+are to be discussed only so far as they will aid in the understanding of
+some passage or of the piece as a whole.
+
+5. Learn some of the most important facts connected with the author's
+life. What were the conditions under which he wrote this piece? What was
+the character of his education and of the other influences which shaped
+his life and distinguished his works? Learn what some of the leading
+critics have said concerning his works as a poet.
+
+6. Finally, read the poem again, as a whole, and discuss its qualities
+as a work of literary art, and again point out its distinctive beauties
+and characteristic excellences.
+
+The extracts given at the beginning of each Century will serve to keep
+in mind the leading peculiarities which distinguished the poetry of each
+period; and the lists of poets and their works will be found valuable
+for purposes of reference. Before beginning the study of the selections
+both teacher and pupils should read this Introduction carefully.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[6:1] See the quotation from Taine, page 15.
+
+[9:1] Frederic Harrison: _On the Choice of Books_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+     PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS.
+
+                                                        PAGE
+     INTRODUCTION                                          5
+     THE NINETEENTH CENTURY                               15
+     THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                               95
+     THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY                             157
+     THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY                               215
+     THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY                               267
+     THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY                              285
+     INDEX                                               303
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+     BY ALFRED TENNYSON:--
+         The Lady of Shalott                              17
+         The Brook                                        25
+         The Lotus Eaters                                 28
+
+     BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH:--
+         Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
+            Early Childhood                               37
+         The Two April Mornings                           49
+         The Solitary Reaper                              51
+
+     BY S. T. COLERIDGE:--
+         Christabel. Part I                               55
+
+     BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY:--
+         To a Skylark                                     67
+         Hymn of Pan                                      71
+         From Epipsychidion                               74
+
+     BY JOHN KEATS:--
+         Ode to a Nightingale                             83
+         From The Eve of St. Agnes                        87
+
+     BY ROBERT BURNS:--
+         The Cotter's Saturday Night                      97
+         To a Mountain Daisy                             107
+         For a' that and a' that                         109
+
+     BY WILLIAM COWPER:--
+         Boadicea                                        113
+         On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture           115
+         Epitaph on a Hare                               120
+
+     BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH:--
+         The Village Parson                              124
+         The Village Schoolmaster                        125
+
+     BY THOMAS GRAY:--
+         The Bard                                        129
+
+     BY ALEXANDER POPE:--
+         From the Essay on Criticism                     141
+         Ode on St. Cecilia's Day                        147
+
+     BY JOHN DRYDEN:--
+         Alexander's Feast                               159
+         The Fire of London                              169
+         Reason and Religion                             174
+
+     BY JOHN MILTON:--
+         On the Morning of Christ's Nativity             177
+         Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton                   196
+
+     BY ROBERT HERRICK:--
+         To Phillis                                      197
+         The Mad Maid's Song                             199
+         A Thanksgiving to God                           200
+
+     BY EDMUND WALLER:--
+         Song: Go, lovely Rose                           203
+         Of English Verse                                204
+         On a Girdle                                     205
+
+     BY BEN JONSON:--
+         An Ode to Himself                               207
+         To Cynthia                                      209
+         To the Memory of William Shakespeare            210
+         Herrick's Ode for Ben Jonson                    214
+
+     BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:--
+         Venus's Advice to Adonis on Hunting             217
+         A Morning Song for Imogen                       219
+         Sigh no more, Ladies                            220
+         Sunshine and Cloud (Sonnet xxxiii.)             220
+         The World's Way (Sonnet lxvi.)                  221
+
+     BY EDMUND SPENSER:--
+         The Cave of Mammon                              223
+         Prothalamion; or, a Spousall Verse              235
+
+     BY THOMAS WYATT:--
+         A Love Song                                     247
+         The Courtier's Life                             248
+
+     BY THE EARL OF SURREY:--
+         From Virgil's Æneid                             249
+         Sonnet: Geraldine                               250
+         On the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt                251
+
+     BALLADS:--
+         Waly, waly                                      253
+         Sir Patrick Spens                               255
+         The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington             259
+         Robin Hood and the Widow's three Sons           261
+
+     BY JOHN SKELTON:--
+         To Maystress Margaret Hussey                    269
+         Cardinal Wolsey                                 270
+
+     BY JOHN LYDGATE:--
+         A Visit to London                               273
+         The Golden Age                                  275
+
+     BY ROBERT HENRYSON:--
+         The Garmond of Fair Ladies                      277
+
+     BY WILLIAM DUNBAR:--
+         A May Morning                                   279
+
+     BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS:--
+         In Praise of Honour                             281
+
+     BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER:--
+         From the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales       287
+
+
+
+
+SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY.
+
+
+
+
+The Nineteenth Century.
+
+
+"_Now appeared the English romantic school, a sect of 'dissenters in
+poetry,' who spoke out aloud, kept themselves close together, and
+repelled settled minds by the audacity and novelty of their theories.
+They had violently broken with tradition, and leaped over all classical
+culture, to take their models from the Renaissance and the middle-age.
+They sought, in the old national ballads and ancient poetry of foreign
+lands, the fresh and primitive accent which had been wanting in
+classical literature, and whose presence seemed to them to be a sign of
+truth and beauty. They proposed to adapt to poetry the ordinary language
+of conversation, such as is spoken in the middle and lower classes, and
+to replace studied phrases and a lofty vocabulary by natural tones and
+plebeian words. In place of the classic mould, they tried stanzas,
+sonnets, ballads, blank verse, with the roughness and subdivisions of
+the primitive poets. . . . Some had culled gigantic legends, piled up
+dreams, ransacked the East, Greece, Arabia, the Middle Ages, and
+overloaded the human imagination with hues and fancies from every clime.
+Others had buried themselves in metaphysics and moral philosophy, had
+mused indefatigably on the condition of man, and spent their lives on
+the sublime and the monotonous. Others, making a medley of crime and
+heroism, had conducted, through darkness and flashes of lightning, a
+train of contorted and terrible figures, desperate with remorse,
+relieved by their grandeur. Men wanted to rest after so many efforts and
+so much success. On the going out of the imaginative, sentimental, and
+Satanic school, Tennyson appeared exquisite. All the forms and ideas
+which had pleased them were found in him, but purified, modulated, set
+in a splendid style. He completed an age._"--TAINE.
+
+
+_Poets of the Nineteenth Century._
+
+=William Wordsworth= (1770-1850). See biographical note, page 52.
+
+=Sir Walter Scott= (1771-1832). "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"; "The Lady
+of the Lake"; "Marmion"; "The Lord of the Isles"; short poems.
+
+=Samuel Taylor Coleridge= (1772-1834). See biographical note, page 65.
+
+=Robert Southey= (1774-1843). "Thalaba"; "Roderick, the last of the
+Goths"; "Joan of Arc"; "Madoc"; "The Curse of Kehama"; numerous short
+poems.
+
+=Charles Lamb= (1775-1834). Chiefly short poems.
+
+=Walter Savage Landor= (1775-1864). "Gebir"; and other poems.
+
+=Thomas Campbell= (1777-1844). "Gertrude of Wyoming"; "The Pleasures of
+Hope"; short poems.
+
+=Thomas Moore= (1779-1852). "Irish Melodies"; "Lalla Rookh"; "Rhymes on
+the Road"; "The Loves of the Angels," etc.
+
+=Leigh Hunt= (1784-1859). "Francesca Rimini"; "A Legend of Florence";
+"Stories in Verse," etc.
+
+=Bryan Waller Procter= ("Barry Cornwall") (1787-1874). "A Sicilian Story";
+"English Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Byron= (George Gordon Noel) (1788-1824). "Childe Harold"; "The
+Giaour"; "Bride of Abydos"; "The Corsair"; "Lara"; "Hebrew Melodies";
+"Siege of Corinth"; "Parisina"; "Manfred"; "Don Juan," etc.
+
+=Percy Bysshe Shelley= (1792-1822). See biographical note, page 81.
+
+=John Keats= (1795-1821). See biographical note, page 93.
+
+=Thomas Hood= (1799-1845). Numerous short poems, chiefly humorous.
+
+=Lord Macaulay= (1800-1859). "Lays of Ancient Rome."
+
+=Elizabeth Barrett Browning= (1809-1861). "Prometheus Bound"; "Casa Guidi
+Windows"; "Sonnets from the Portuguese"; "Aurora Leigh"; "Poems before
+Congress"; "Last Poems."
+
+=Alfred Tennyson= (Lord Tennyson) (1809-). See biographical note, page 35.
+
+=Richard Monckton Milnes= (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885). "Historical Poems";
+"Poetry for the People"; "Poems of Many Years."
+
+=Robert Browning= (1812-1889). "Christmas Eve and Easter Day"; "Men and
+Women"; "The Ring and the Book"; "Balaustion's Adventure"; "Fifine at
+the Fair"; "Aristophanes' Apology," etc.
+
+=William Edmondstoune Aytoun= (1813-1865). "Lays of the Scottish
+Cavaliers"; "Ballads of Scotland," etc.
+
+=Arthur Hugh Clough= (1819-1861). "The Bothie"; "Ambarvalia," etc.
+
+=Charles Kingsley= (1819-1875). "Andromeda"; many short poems.
+
+=Matthew Arnold= (1822-1889). "The Strayed Reveller and other Poems";
+"Balder."
+
+=Adelaide Anne Procter= (1825-1864). "Legends and Lyrics"; "A Chaplet of
+Verses."
+
+=Robert Bulwer-Lytton= ("Owen Meredith") (1831-1892). "Lucile"; "Marah,"
+etc.
+
+
+
+
+Alfred Tennyson.
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF SHALOTT.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     On either side the river lie
+     Long fields of barley and of rye,
+     That clothe the wold{1} and meet the sky:
+     And through the fields the road runs by
+         To many-towered Camelot{2};
+     And up and down the people go,
+     Gazing where the lilies blow
+     Round an island there below,
+         The island of Shalott.
+
+     Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
+     Little breezes dusk{3} and shiver
+     Through the wave that runs forever
+     By the island in the river
+         Flowing down to Camelot;
+     Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
+     Overlook a space of flowers,
+     And the silent isle imbowers
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     By the margin, willow-veiled,
+     Slide the heavy barges, trailed{4}
+     By slow horses; and unhailed
+     The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,
+         Skimming down to Camelot:
+     But who hath seen her wave her hand?
+     Or at the casement seen her stand?
+     Or is she known in all the land,
+         The lady of Shalott?
+
+     Only reapers, reaping early
+     In among the bearded barley,
+     Hear a song that echoes cheerly
+     From the river winding clearly,
+         Down to towered Camelot:
+     And by the moon the reaper weary,
+     Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
+     Listening, whispers, "'Tis the fairy
+         Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+PART II.
+
+     There she weaves by night and day
+     A magic web{5} with colors gay.
+     She has heard a whisper say,
+     A curse is on her if she stay
+         To look down to Camelot.
+     She knows not what the curse may be,
+     And so she weaveth steadily,
+     And little other care hath she,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     And moving through a mirror clear
+     That hangs before her all the year,
+     Shadows of the world appear.
+     There she sees the highway near
+         Winding down to Camelot:
+     There the river-eddy whirls,
+     And there the surly village-churls,
+     And the red cloaks of market girls
+         Pass onward from Shalott.
+
+     Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
+     An abbott on an ambling pad,{6}
+     Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad
+     Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
+         Goes by to towered Camelot;
+     And sometimes through the mirror blue,
+     The knights come riding two and two:
+     She hath no loyal knight and true,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     But in her web she still delights
+     To weave the mirrored magic sights,
+     For often through the silent nights
+     A funeral, with plumes and lights,
+         And music, went to Camelot;
+     Or, when the moon was overhead,
+     Came two young lovers lately wed.
+     "I am half-sick of shadows," said
+         The Lady of Shalott.{7}
+
+
+PART III.
+
+     A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
+     He rode between the barley-sheaves,
+     The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
+     And flamed upon the brazen greaves
+         Of bold Sir Lancelot.
+     A red-cross{8} knight forever kneeled
+     To a lady in his shield
+     That sparkled on the yellow field,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     The gemmy bridle glittered free,
+     Like to some branch of stars we see
+     Hung in the golden Galaxy.{9}
+     The bridle-bells rang merrily
+         As he rode down to Camelot:
+     And from his blazoned baldric{10} slung
+     A mighty silver bugle hung,
+     And as he rode his armor rung,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     All in the blue unclouded weather
+     Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
+     The helmet and the helmet-feather
+     Burned like one burning flame together,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     As often through the purple night,
+     Below the starry clusters bright,
+     Some bearded meteor,{11} trailing light,
+         Moves over still Shalott.
+
+     His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;
+     On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
+     From underneath his helmet flowed
+     His coal-black curls as on he rode,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     From the bank and from the river
+     He flashed{12} into the crystal mirror,
+     "Tirra lirra," by the river{13}
+         Sang Sir Lancelot.
+
+     She left the web, she left the loom,
+     She made three paces through the room,
+     She saw the water-lily bloom,
+     She saw the helmet and the plume,
+         She looked down to Camelot.
+     Out flew the web and floated wide;
+     The mirror cracked from side to side;
+     "The curse is come upon me," cried
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+     In the stormy east-wind straining,
+     The pale yellow woods were waning,
+     The broad stream in his banks complaining,
+     Heavily the low sky raining
+         Over towered Camelot;
+     Down she came and found a boat
+     Beneath a willow left afloat,
+     And round about the prow she wrote,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     And down the river's dim expanse--
+     Like some bold seër in a trance,
+     Seeing all his own mischance--
+     With a glassy countenance
+         Did she look to Camelot.
+     And at the closing of the day
+     She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
+     The broad stream bore her far away,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Lying, robed in snowy white
+     That loosely flew to left and right--
+     The leaves upon her falling light--
+     Through the noises of the night
+         She floated down to Camelot:
+     And as the boat-head wound along
+     The willowy hills and fields among,
+     They heard her singing her last song,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
+     Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
+     Till her blood was frozen slowly,
+     And her eyes were darkened wholly,
+         Turned to towered Camelot;
+     For ere she reached upon the tide
+     The first house by the water-side,
+     Singing in her song she died,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Under tower and balcony,
+     By garden-wall and gallery,
+     A gleaming shape she floated by,
+     A corse between the houses high,
+         Silent into Camelot.
+     Out upon the wharfs they came,
+     Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
+     And round the prow they read her name,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     Who is this? and what is here?
+     And in the lighted palace near
+     Died the sound of royal cheer;
+     And they crossed themselves for fear,
+         All the knights at Camelot;
+     But Lancelot mused a little space;
+     He said, "She has a lovely face;
+     God in his mercy lend her grace,
+         The Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1832. Considered as a picture, or as a series
+of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The story which is here so
+briefly told is founded upon a touching legend connected with the
+romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tennyson
+afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the _Idyll_ called "Elaine,"
+wherein he followed more closely the original narrative as related by
+Sir Thomas Malory.
+
+Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the Round
+Table, and for him Elaine, "the fair maid of Astolat," conceived a
+hopeless passion. "Her love was platonic and pure as that of a child,
+but it was masterful in its strength." Having learned that Lancelot was
+pledged to celibacy, she pined away and died. But before her death she
+called her brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write,
+she spake thus:
+
+"'While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand, and
+my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be put in
+a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have about me, and so let
+my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot to the next
+place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a barge, and but
+one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barge
+be covered with black samite over and over.' . . . So when she was dead,
+the corpse and the bed and all was led the next way unto the Thames, and
+there all were put in a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the
+barge to Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or
+any man espied."[23:A] At length the King and his Knights, coming down
+to the waterside, and seeing the boat and the lily maid of Astolat, they
+uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.
+
+     "But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,
+      Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all:
+      'Most noble Lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,
+      I, sometime called the maid of Astolat,
+      Come, for you left me taking no farewell,
+      Hither, to take my last farewell of you.
+      I loved you, and my love had no return,
+      And therefore my true love has been my death. . . .
+      Pray for my soul and yield me burial.
+      Pray for my soul thou too Sir Lancelot,
+      As thou art a knight peerless.'"[24:A]
+
+And so the maid was buried, "not as one unknown, nor meanly, but with
+gorgeous obsequies, and mass and rolling music, like a queen. And the
+story of her dolorous voyage was blazoned on her tomb in letters gold
+and azure."
+
+
+1. =wold.= An open tract of hilly country, where but few trees are left.
+This word is more frequently used, however, to designate a forest or
+thick wood.
+
+2. =Camelot.= It is supposed that this Camelot was Winchester. It was the
+seat of King Arthur's court, and visitors are still shown the remains of
+what appear to have been certain kinds of intrenchments, which the
+inhabitants call "King Arthur's Palace." Sir Thomas Malory says: "Sir
+Ballin's sword was put into marble stone, standing it upright as a great
+millstone, and it swam down the stream to the city of Camelot, that is,
+in English, Wincheste." There was another Camelot, also King Arthur's
+capital, on the river Camel, in Cornwall, to which Shakespeare makes
+reference in _King Lear_, II, ii. Tennyson, in "Gareth and Lynette,"
+describes the appearance of the city when approached in the early
+morning:
+
+     "Far off they saw the silver-misty morn
+      Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,
+      That rose between the forest and the field.
+      At times the summit of the high city flash'd;
+      At times the spires and turrets half-way down
+      Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great gate shone
+      Only, that open'd on the field below:
+      Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd."
+
+3. =dusk.= Produce a ruffled surface. A very rare use of this word. The
+river referred to is probably the Thames.
+
+4. =trailed.= Lat. _traho_, to draw; Dutch _treilen_, to tow. What picture
+is presented to the imagination in the first five lines of this stanza?
+How do the barges differ in appearance and movement from the shallop
+mentioned two lines below?
+
+5. =web.= Anything woven. =stay.= Stop.
+
+6. =pad.= An easy-going saddle-horse; a palfrey. Describe the picture
+which is presented in this stanza.
+
+7. Explain the meaning of the Lady's exclamation.
+
+8. =red-cross knight.= A Knight wearing a red cross. One of King Arthur's
+Knights. The red-cross Knight in Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ symbolizes
+holiness.
+
+     "And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
+      The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
+      For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
+      And dead, as living ever, him ador'd;
+      Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
+      For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
+      Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;
+      But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
+      Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."
+
+9. =Galaxy.= The milky-way. Gr. _gala_, _galaktos_, milk.
+
+10. =baldric.= A belt thrown over the shoulder. From Lat. _balteus_.
+
+11. =bearded meteor.= A shooting-star emitting rays of light in the
+direction in which it moves. The beard of a comet is the light which it
+throws out in front of it, in distinction from the tail or rays behind.
+
+12. =He flashed.= His image was thrown upon and reflected from.
+
+13. "=Tirra lirra.=" French _tire lire_. Probably intended to imitate the
+note of the lark.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[23:A] Malory's King Arthur, Part III.
+
+[24:A] Tennyson's Elaine.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+     I come from haunts of coot{1} and hern,{2}
+       I make a sudden sally,
+     And sparkle out among the fern,
+       To bicker{3} down a valley.
+
+     By thirty hills I hurry down,
+       Or slip between the ridges,
+     By twenty thorps,{4} a little town,
+       And half a hundred bridges.
+
+     Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I chatter over stony ways,
+       In little sharps and trebles,
+     I bubble into eddying bays,
+       I babble on the pebbles.
+
+     With many a curve my banks I fret
+       By many a field and fallow,
+     And many a fairy foreland{5} set
+       With willow-weed and mallow.
+
+     I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I wind about, and in and out,
+       With here a blossom sailing,
+     And here and there a lusty trout,
+       And here and there a grayling,
+
+     And here and there a foamy flake
+       Upon me, as I travel,
+     With many a silvery waterbreak
+       Above the golden gravel,
+
+     And draw them all along, and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+       I slide by hazel{6} covers;
+     I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+       That grow for happy lovers.
+
+     I slip, I slide, I gloom,{7} I glance,
+       Among my skimming swallows;
+     I make the netted sunbeams dance
+       Against my shady shallows.
+
+     I murmur under moon and stars
+       In brambly wildernesses;
+     I linger by my shingly{8} bars;
+       I loiter round my cresses;
+
+     And out again I curve and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This little lyric forms a part of "an idyl" of the same title, published
+in 1855. The poet introduces it in the following manner:
+
+     "Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East
+      And he to Italy--too late--too late:
+      . . . . . . . . . Yet the brook he loved
+      . . . . . . . seems, as I re-listen to it,
+      Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,
+      To me that loved him; for, 'O brook,' he says,
+      'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
+      'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies:
+        'I come from haunts of coot and hern,'" etc.
+
+In reading this poem, observe how strikingly the sound is made to
+correspond to the sense.
+
+
+1. =coot.= A wild water-fowl, resembling the duck.
+
+2. =hern.= Heron.
+
+3. =bicker.= To move unsteadily.
+
+4. =thorps.= Small villages. A. S. _thorpe_. From Ger. _trupp_, a troop.
+
+5. =foreland.= A promontory.
+
+6. =hazel covers.= Hazel thickets.
+
+7. =gloom.= Glimmer, shine obscurely.
+
+8. =shingly.= Gravelly.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOTOS-EATERS.
+
+
+     "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;
+     "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
+     In the afternoon they came unto a land,
+     In which it seemed always afternoon.
+     All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
+     Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
+     Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
+     And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
+     Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
+
+     A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
+     Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
+     And some through wavering lights and shadows broke
+     Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
+     They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
+     From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
+     Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
+     Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
+     Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
+
+     The charmed sunset lingered low adown
+     In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale
+     Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
+     Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
+     And meadow, set with slender galingale;
+     A land where all things always seemed the same!
+     And round about the keel with faces pale,
+     Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
+     The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
+
+     Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
+     Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
+     To each, but whoso did receive of them,
+     And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
+     Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave
+     On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
+     His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
+     And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
+     And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
+
+     They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
+     Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
+     And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
+     Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore
+     Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
+     Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
+     Then some one said, "We will return no more;"
+     And all at once they sang, "Our island home
+     Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."
+
+
+
+
+CHORIC SONG.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There is sweet music here that softer falls
+     Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
+     Or night-dews on still waters between walls
+     Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
+     Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
+     Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
+     Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
+     Here are cool mosses deep.
+     And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
+     And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
+     And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.
+
+
+II.
+
+     Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
+     And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
+     While all things else have rest from weariness?
+     All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
+     We only toil, who are the first of things,
+     And make perpetual moan,
+     Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
+     Nor ever fold our wings,
+     And cease from wanderings,
+     Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
+     Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
+     "There is no joy but calm!"
+     Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?
+
+
+III.
+
+     Lo! in the middle of the wood,
+     The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud
+     With winds upon the branch, and there
+     Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
+     Sun-steeped at noon, and in the moon
+     Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
+     Falls, and floats adown the air.
+     Lo! sweetened with the summer light,
+     The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
+     Drops in a silent autumn night.
+     All its allotted length of days,
+     The flower ripens in its place,
+     Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
+     Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
+     Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
+     Death is the end of life; ah, why
+     Should life all labour be?
+     Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
+     And in a little while our lips are dumb.
+     Let us alone. What is it that will last?
+     All things are taken from us, and become
+     Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
+     Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
+     To war with evil? Is there any peace
+     In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
+     All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
+     In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:
+     Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
+
+
+V.
+
+     How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
+     With half-shut eyes ever to seem
+     Falling asleep in a half-dream!
+     To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
+     Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
+     To hear each other's whispered speech;
+     Eating the Lotos day by day,
+     To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
+     And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
+     To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
+     To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
+     To muse and brood and live again in memory,
+     With those old faces of our infancy
+     Heaped over with a mound of grass,
+     Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
+     And dear the last embraces of our wives
+     And their warm tears: but all hath suffered change;
+     For surely now our household hearths are cold:
+     Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
+     And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
+     Or else the island-princes over-bold
+     Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
+     Before them of the ten-years' war in Troy,
+     And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
+     Is there confusion in the little isle?
+     Let what is broken so remain.
+     The gods are hard to reconcile:
+     'Tis hard to settle order once again.
+     There _is_ confusion worse than death,
+     Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
+     Long labour unto aged breath,
+     Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars,
+     And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     But, propped on beds of amaranth and moly,
+     How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
+     With half-dropped eyelids still,
+     Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
+     To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
+     His waters from the purple hill--
+     To hear the dewy echoes calling
+     From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine--
+     To watch the emerald-coloured water falling
+     Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
+     Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
+     Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
+     The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
+     All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
+     Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone
+     Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
+     We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
+     Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was
+         seething free,
+     Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
+     Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
+     In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
+     On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.
+     For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled
+     Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled
+     Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
+     Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
+     Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery
+         sands,
+     Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying
+         hands.
+     But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
+     Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
+     Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;
+     Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
+     Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
+     Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
+     Till they perish and they suffer--some, 'tis whispered, down in hell
+     Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
+     Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
+     Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
+     Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
+     Oh, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
+teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the
+lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew
+water, and straightway my company took their mid-day meal by the swift
+ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink, I sent forth certain of my
+company to go and make search of what manner of men they were who here
+live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and
+sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed
+with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters
+devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste.
+Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no
+more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide
+with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of
+his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and
+sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound
+them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved
+company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any
+should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning."--_Homer's
+Odyssey_, ix, 80.
+
+"In this poem, 'The Lotos-Eaters,' the artistic ideal of the young poet
+(it was written in 1830) found its most finished expression and its
+culminating point. Here he seems to have attained a consciousness that
+beyond the ideal which he had adopted there is another, larger, grander,
+and more satisfying. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the range of poetry, is
+the trance of a listless life so harmoniously married to appropriate
+melodies and appropriate accompaniments."--_North British Review._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1809.
+His early education was received at home from his father, who was rector
+of Somersby and vicar of Bennington and Grimsby. He was afterwards sent
+to Trinity College, Cambridge, where, at the age of twenty, he received
+the chancellor's medal for a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo."
+In 1830 he published a small volume of "Poems chiefly Lyrical." A
+revised edition of this volume, published in 1833, contained "The Lady
+of Shalott," "The Lotos-Eaters," and others of his best-known short
+poems. In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed
+poet-laureate. In the same year he was married to Emily, daughter of
+Henry Sellwood, Esq., and niece of Sir John Franklin. Since 1851,
+Tennyson has resided for the greater part of the time at Farringford,
+Freshwater, Isle of Wight. In December, 1883, he was made Baron Tennyson
+of Aldworth and Freshwater.
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says R. H. Hutton, "was an artist even before he was a
+poet; in other words, the eye for beauty, grace, and harmony of effect
+was even more emphatically one of his original gifts than the voice for
+poetic utterance itself. This, probably, it is which makes his very
+earliest pieces appear so full of effort, and sometimes even so full of
+affectation. They were elaborate attempts to embody what he saw, before
+the natural voice of the poet had come to him. I think it possible to
+trace not only a pre-poetic period in his art, but to date the period at
+which the soul was 'infused' into his poetry, and the brilliant external
+figures became the dwelling-places of germinating poetic thoughts
+creating their own music. Curiously enough, the first poem where there
+is any trace of those musings of the Round Table to which he has
+directed so much of his maturest genius, is also a confession that the
+poet was sick of the magic mirror of fancy and its picture-shadows, and
+was turning away from them to the poetry of human life. Whenever Mr.
+Tennyson's pictorial fancy has had it in any degree in its power to run
+away with the guiding and controlling mind, the richness and the
+workmanship have to some extent overgrown the spiritual principle of his
+poems. It is obvious, for instance, that even in relation to natural
+scenery, what his poetical faculty delights in most are rich, luxuriant
+landscapes, in which either nature or man has accumulated a lavish
+variety of effects. It is in the scenery of the mill, the garden, the
+chase, the down, the rich pastures, the harvest-field, the palace
+pleasure-grounds, the Lord of Burleigh's fair domains, the luxuriant
+sylvan beauty, bearing testimony to the careful hand of man, 'the summer
+crisp with shining woods,' that Mr. Tennyson most delights. If he strays
+to rarer scenes, it is almost in search of richer and more luxuriant
+loveliness, like the tropical splendors of 'Enoch Arden' and the
+enervating skies which cheated the Lotos-Eaters of their longing for
+home."
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says a writer in the _North British Review_, "deserves
+an especial study, not only as a poet, but as a leader and a landmark of
+popular thought and feeling. As a poet, he belongs to the highest
+category of English writers; for poetry is the strongest and most
+vigorous branch of English literature. In this literature his works are
+evidently destined to secure a permanent place; for they express in
+language refined and artistic, but not unfamiliar, a large segment of
+the popular thought of the period over which they range. He has,
+moreover, a clearly marked if not strongly individualized style, which
+has served as a model for imitators, and as a starting-point for poets
+who have sought to improve upon it."
+
+
+=Principal Poems of Tennyson:= Charge of the Light Brigade, written in
+1854; Dora, 1842; The Dying Swan, 1830; Enoch Arden, 1864; Idylls of the
+King, 1859-1873,--to be read in the following order: The Coming of
+Arthur; Gareth and Lynette; Geraint and Enid; Merlin and Vivien;
+Lancelot and Elaine; The Holy Grail; Pelleas and Ettarre; The Last
+Tournament; Guinevere; The Passing of Arthur;--In Memoriam, 1850 (131
+parts); Locksley Hall, 1842; Locksley Hall Sixty Years Afterwards, 1886;
+Maud, 1855 (3 parts); The Princess, 1847 (7 parts); Ode on the Death of
+the Duke of Wellington, 1852.
+
+
+DRAMATIC PIECES: Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876; The Cup, 1881; The
+Falcon, 1882; Becket, 1884; The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
+1892.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Stedman's _Victorian Poets_; Van Dyke's _The Poetry of
+Tennyson_; Taine's _History of English Literature_, vol. IV; Kingsley's
+_Miscellanies_; Elsdale's _Studies in the Idylls_; Buchanan's _Master
+Spirits_; Tainsh's _Studies in Tennyson_; Hutton's _Essays_; Chapman's
+_Companion to In Memoriam_; Walters's _In Tennyson Land_.
+
+
+
+
+William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+ODE.
+
+INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.
+
+     The Child is father{1} of the Man;
+     And I could wish my days to be
+     Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
+     The earth, and every common sight,
+             To me did seem
+           Apparelled{2} in celestial light,
+     The glory and the freshness of a dream.
+     It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
+           Turn wheresoe'er I may,
+             By night or day,
+     The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
+
+
+II.
+
+           The rainbow comes and goes,
+           And lovely is the rose;
+           The moon doth with delight
+       Look round her when the heavens are bare;
+           Waters on a starry night
+           Are beautiful and fair;
+       The sunshine is a glorious birth;
+       But yet I know, where'er I go,
+     That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
+
+
+III.
+
+     Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
+       And while the young lambs bound
+         As to the tabor's{3} sound,
+     To me alone there came a thought of grief:
+     A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
+         And I again am strong.
+     The cataracts{4} blow their trumpets from the steep;
+     No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
+     I hear the echoes{5} through the mountains throng;
+     The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,{6}
+         And all the earth is gay;
+           Land and sea
+       Give themselves up to jollity,{7}
+         And with the heart of May{8}
+       Doth every beast keep holiday.
+         Thou child of joy,
+     Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd-boy!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call
+       Ye to each other make; I see
+     The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
+       My heart is at your festival.
+         My head hath its coronal,{9}
+     The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
+           Oh evil day if I were sullen
+           While Earth herself is adorning
+             This sweet May morning,
+           And the children are culling
+             On every side,
+           In a thousand valleys far and wide,
+           Fresh flowers, while the sun shines warm,
+     And the babe leaps up{10} on his mother's arm:
+           I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
+           --But there's a tree,{11} of many, one,
+     A single field which I have looked upon,
+     Both of them speak of something that is gone:
+             The pansy{12} at my feet
+             Doth the same tale repeat.
+     Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
+     Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
+
+
+V.
+
+     Our birth is but a sleep{13} and a forgetting:
+     The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
+           Hath had elsewhere its setting,
+             And cometh from afar;
+           Not in entire forgetfulness,
+           And not in utter nakedness,
+     But trailing clouds of glory do we come
+           From God, who is our home.
+     Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
+     Shades of the prison-house begin to close
+           Upon the growing boy,
+     But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
+           He sees it in his joy;
+     The youth, who daily farther from the East
+           Must travel, still is nature's priest,
+           And by the vision splendid
+           Is on his way attended;
+     At length the man perceives it die away,
+     And fade into the light of common day.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
+     Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
+     And even with something of a mother's mind,
+           And no unworthy aim,
+           The homely nurse doth all she can
+     To make her foster-child, her inmate man,
+           Forget the glories he hath known,
+     And that imperial palace whence he came.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Behold the child{14} among his new-born blisses,
+     A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
+     See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
+     Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
+     With light upon him from his father's eyes!
+     See at his feet some little plan or chart,
+     Some fragment from his dream of human life,
+     Shaped by himself with newly-learned art--
+           A wedding or a festival,
+           A mourning or a funeral;
+             And this hath now his heart,
+           And unto this he frames his song.
+             Then will he fit his tongue
+     To dialogues of business, love, or strife:
+           But it will not be long
+           Ere this be thrown aside,
+           And with new joy and pride
+     The little actor cons another part,
+     Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'{15}
+     With all the persons, down to palsied age,
+     That Life brings with her in her equipage,
+           As if his whole vocation
+           Were endless imitation.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
+           Thy soul's immensity;
+     Thou, best philosopher, who yet dost keep
+     Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
+     That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
+     Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
+           Mighty prophet! seer blest!{16}
+           On whom those truths do rest,
+     Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
+     In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
+     Thou, over whom thy immortality
+     Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
+     A presence which is not to be put by;
+     Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
+     Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
+     Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
+     The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
+     Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
+     Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
+     And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
+     Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
+
+
+IX.
+
+           O joy, that in our embers
+           Is something that doth live,
+           That nature yet remembers
+           What was so fugitive!
+     The thought of our past years in me doth breed
+     Perpetual benediction: not indeed
+     For that which is most worthy to be blest--
+     Delight and liberty, the simple creed
+     Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
+     With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
+           Not for these I raise
+           The song of thanks and praise;
+         But for those obstinate questionings
+         Of sense and outward things,
+         Fallings from us, vanishings;{17}
+         Blank misgivings{18} of a creature
+     Moving about in worlds not realized,
+     High instincts before which our mortal nature
+     Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
+           But for those first affections,
+           Those shadowy recollections,
+         Which, be they what they may,
+     Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
+     Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
+       Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
+     Our noisy years seem moments in the being
+     Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,
+           To perish never;
+     Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,
+           Nor man nor boy,
+     Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
+     Can utterly abolish or destroy!
+           Hence in a season of calm weather,
+           Though inland far we be,
+     Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
+         Which brought us hither,
+           Can in a moment travel thither,
+     And see the children sport upon the shore,
+     And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
+
+
+X.
+
+     Then sing, ye birds! sing, sing a joyous song!
+           And let the young lambs bound
+           As to the tabor's sound!
+     We in thought will join your throng,
+           Ye that pipe and ye that play,
+           Ye that through your hearts to-day
+           Feel the gladness of the May!
+     What though the radiance which was once so bright
+     Be now forever taken from my sight,
+       Though nothing can bring back the hour
+     Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower?
+           We will grieve not, rather find
+           Strength in what remains behind;
+           In the primal sympathy
+           Which, having been, must ever be;
+           In the soothing thoughts that spring
+           Out of human suffering;
+           In the faith that looks through death,
+     In years that bring the philosophic mind.
+
+
+XI.
+
+     And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
+     Forebode not any severing of our loves!
+     Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
+     I only have relinquished one delight
+     To live beneath your more habitual sway.
+     I love the brooks, which down their channels fret,
+     Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
+     The innocent brightness of a new-born day
+             Is lovely yet:
+     The clouds that gather round the setting sun{19}
+     Do take a sober coloring from an eye
+     That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
+     Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
+     Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
+     Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
+     To me the meanest flower that blows can give
+     Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This was composed," says Wordsworth, "during my residence at Town-End,
+Grasmere (1803-1806). Two years at least passed between the writing of
+the first four stanzas and the remaining part. To the attentive and
+competent reader the whole sufficiently explains itself, but there may
+be no harm in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my
+own mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was
+more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as
+a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere:
+
+                    'A simple child
+     That lightly draws its breath,
+     And feels its life in every limb,
+     What should it know of death?'[44:A]
+
+"But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that _my_
+difficulty came, as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
+within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
+almost persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should
+be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a feeling
+congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external things as
+having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as
+something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
+Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
+recall myself from this abyss of idealism to reality. At that time I was
+afraid of mere processes. In later periods of life I have deplored, as
+we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and
+have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
+_Obstinate questionings_, etc. To that dream-like vividness and splendor
+which invests objects of sight in childhood every one, I believe, if he
+could look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
+here; but having in the poem regarded it as a presumptive evidence of a
+prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
+conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
+meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
+recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
+immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
+advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
+fall of man presents an analogy in its favor. Accordingly, a
+pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
+and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
+ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
+the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
+felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his mind? Having to
+wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on the
+'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as
+having sufficient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for
+my purpose the best use of it I could as a poet."
+
+Lord Houghton says of this poem: "If I am asked what is the greatest
+poem in the English language, I never for a moment hesitate to say,
+Wordsworth's 'Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.'"
+
+Principal Shairp says: "'The Ode on Immortality' marks the highest limit
+which the tide of poetic inspiration has reached in England within this
+century, or indeed since the days of Milton."
+
+The idea of the pre-existence of the soul had already been treated by
+Henry Vaughan in "Silex Scintillans" (1655).
+
+     "Happy those infant days, when I
+      Shined in my angel-infancy!
+      Before I understood this place
+      Appointed for my second race,
+      Or taught my soul to fancy aught
+      But a white, celestial thought;
+      When yet I had not walked above
+      A mile or two from my first Love,
+      And looking back at that short space
+      Could see a glimpse of his bright face."
+
+Shelley, in "A Lament," hints at the same thought:
+
+     "O world! O life! O time!
+      On whose last steps I climb,
+          Trembling at that where I had stood before,
+      When will return the glory of your prime?
+          No more--oh, never more!
+
+     "Out of the day and night
+      A joy has taken flight;
+          Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
+      Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
+          No more--oh, never more!"
+
+
+1. =The child is father, etc.= These lines are from a short poem by
+Wordsworth, entitled "My Heart leaps up":
+
+     "My heart leaps up when I behold
+          A rainbow in the sky.
+      So was it when my life began;
+      So is it now I am a man;
+      So be it when I shall grow old,
+          Or let me die!
+      The child is father of the man;
+      And I could wish my days to be
+      Bound each to each by natural piety."
+
+Compare with Milton's lines in 'Paradise Regained,' Bk. IV:
+
+       "The childhood shows the man
+     As morning shows the day."
+
+2. =apparelled.= From Fr. _pareil_, Lat. _parilis_. Other English words as
+_pair_, _compare_, etc., are similarly derived. To _apparel_ is strictly
+to pair, to suit, to put like to like.
+
+3. =tabor.= From Old Fr. _tabour_, Fr. _tambour_. Compare Eng.
+_tambourine_. Originally from the root _tap_, Gr. _tup_, to strike
+lightly. An ancient musical instrument,--a small one-ended drum having a
+handle projecting from the frame, by which it was held in the left hand,
+while it was beaten with a stick held in the right hand.
+
+4. =the cataracts.= The poet has probably in mind the "ghills" or falls of
+his own lake country. The metaphor which he uses is a bold one.
+
+5. =the echoes.= Compare with a similar line by Shelley:
+
+     "Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains."
+                                                --_Adonais_, 127.
+
+6. =the fields of sleep.= "The yet reposeful, slumbering country
+side."--_Hales._ "The fields that were dark during the hours of
+sleep."--_Knight._
+
+7. =jollity.= Merriment. From Lat. _jovialis_. See Milton's 'L'Allegro,'
+26:
+
+     "Haste thee nymph and bring with thee
+      Jest and youthful jollity."
+
+8. =May.= May, with the poets, is the month of gayety. The older poetry
+especially is full of May raptures. Chaucer says:
+
+     "For May will have no sluggardy a-night:
+      The season pricketh every gentle heart,
+      And maketh him out of his sleep to start."
+
+9. =coronal.= A crown of flowers, a chaplet. As at the Roman banquets. On
+such occasions it was usual for the host to give chaplets to his guests.
+Festoons of flowers were also sometimes hung over their necks and
+breasts. The chaplet, or coronal, was regarded as a cheerful ornament
+and symbol of festivity.
+
+10. =the babe leaps up.= That is for joy. See the poem, "My heart leaps
+up," on page 46.
+
+11. =there's a tree.= Compare this thought with that contained in the
+following lines:
+
+     "Only, one little sight, one plant,
+      . . . whene'er the leaf grows there
+      Its drop comes from my heart, that's all."
+                                    --_Browning's May and Death._
+
+12. =pansy.= The flower of thought. From Fr. _pensée_, thought; _penser_,
+to think. "It probably derived its name, thought or fancy, from its
+fanciful appearance."--_Nares._ Another derivation of the word is from
+_panacea_, meaning _all-heal_, a name given by the Greeks to a plant
+which was popularly supposed to cure diseases and dispel sorrow. The
+notion that the pansy is a cure for grief is shown in its common English
+name, _heart's-ease_.
+
+13. =Our birth is but a sleep.= The idea of pre-existence was a favorite
+one of the ancient philosophers. The doctrine of metempsychosis, a form
+of the same idea, was held by the ancient Egyptians and is still
+maintained by the Buddhists. Tennyson says:
+
+     "As old mythologies relate,
+      Some draught of Lethe might await
+      The slipping through from state to state.
+
+     "And if I lapsed from nobler place,
+      Some legend of a fallen race
+      Alone might hint of my disgrace."--_Two Voices._
+
+14. =Behold the child.= Pope gives a similar picture:
+
+     "Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
+      Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
+      Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
+      A little louder, but as empty quite."--_Essay on Man._
+
+When Wordsworth wrote of
+
+     "A six years' darling of a pigmy size,"
+
+he probably had in mind Hartley Coleridge, who was then a child of that
+age. See his poem "To Hartley Coleridge, Six Years Old."
+
+15. =humorous stage.= See Shakespeare's lines beginning "All the world's
+a stage," "As You like It," Act ii, sc. 7. The word _humorous_ has here
+a special sense, such as is used by Ben Jonson in his "Every Man in his
+Humor."
+
+16. =best philosopher . . . mighty prophet! seer blest!= Stopford Brooke
+says: "These expressions taken separately have scarcely any recognizable
+meaning. By taking them all together, we feel rather than see that
+Wordsworth intended to say that the child, having lately come from a
+perfect existence, in which he saw truth directly, and was at home with
+God, retains, unknown to us, that vision;--and, because he does, is the
+best philosopher, since he sees at once that which we through philosophy
+are endeavoring to reach; is the mighty prophet, because in his actions
+and speech he tells unconsciously the truths he sees, but the sight of
+which we have lost; is more closely haunted by God, more near to the
+immortal life, more purely and brightly free because he half shares in
+the pre-existent life and glory out of which he has come."--_Theology in
+the English Poets._
+
+17. =Fallings from us, vanishings.= "Fits of utter dreaminess and
+abstraction, when nothing material seems solid, but everything mere mist
+and shadow."--_Hales._
+
+18. =Blank misgivings.= Compare Tennyson, "Two Voices":
+
+     "Moreover, something is or seems,
+      That touches me with mystic gleams,
+      Like glimpses of forgotten dreams;
+
+     "Of something felt, like something here;
+      Of something done, I know not where;
+      Such as no language may declare."
+
+19. =The clouds that gather.= Compare these lines with the following from
+Wordsworth's "Excursion":
+
+                     "Ah! why in age
+     Do we revert so fondly to the walks
+     Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
+     The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
+     Of her own native vigor, thence can hear
+     Reverberations and a choral song,
+     Commingling with the incense that ascends
+     Undaunted toward the imperishable heavens,
+     From her own lonely altar?"
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[44:A] The first stanza of We are Seven, said to have been written by
+Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.
+
+
+     We walked along, while bright and red
+     Uprose the morning sun;
+     And Matthew{1} stopped, he looked, and said,
+     'The will of God be done!'
+
+     A village schoolmaster was he,
+     With hair of glittering gray;
+     As blithe a man as you could see
+     On a spring holiday.
+
+     And on that morning, through the grass,
+     And by the steaming rills,
+     We travelled merrily, to pass
+     A day among the hills.
+
+     'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun:
+     Then, from thy breast what thought,
+     Beneath so beautiful a sun,
+     So sad a sigh has brought?'
+
+     A second time did Matthew stop,
+     And fixing still his eye
+     Upon the eastern mountain-top,
+     To me he made reply:
+
+     'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
+     Brings fresh into my mind
+     A day like this which I have left
+     Full thirty years behind.
+
+     And just above yon slope of corn
+     Such colors, and no other,
+     Were in the sky, that April morn,
+     Of this the very brother.
+
+     With rod and line I sued the sport
+     Which that sweet season gave,
+     And, to the church-yard come, stopped short
+     Beside my daughter's grave.
+
+     Nine summers had she scarcely seen,
+     The pride of all the vale:
+     And then she sang;--she would have been
+     A very nightingale.
+
+     Six feet in earth my Emma lay;
+     And yet I loved her more,
+     For so it seemed, than till that day
+     I e'er had loved before.
+
+     And, turning from her grave, I met,
+     Beside the churchyard yew,
+     A blooming girl, whose hair was wet
+     With points of morning dew.
+
+     A basket on her head she bare;
+     Her brow was smooth and white:
+     To see a child so very fair,
+     It was a pure delight!
+
+     No fountain from its rocky cave
+     E'er tripped with foot so free;
+     She seemed as happy as a wave
+     That dances on the sea.
+
+     There came from me a sigh of pain
+     Which I could ill confine;
+     I looked at her, and looked again:
+     And did not wish her mine!'
+
+     Matthew is in his grave, yet now,
+     Methinks, I see him stand,
+     As at that moment, with a bough
+     Of wilding{2} in his hand.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1799, and published the following year.
+
+1. =Matthew.= This old schoolmaster is described elsewhere by Wordsworth
+as being "made up of several, both of his class and men of other
+occupations."
+
+2. =wilding.= A twig from a wild apple tree.
+
+     "Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found."--_Dryden._
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLITARY REAPER.
+
+
+     Behold her, single in the field,
+     Yon solitary highland lass!
+     Reaping and singing by herself;
+     Stop here, or gently pass!
+     Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
+     And sings a melancholy strain;
+     O listen! for the vale profound
+     Is overflowing with the sound.
+
+     No nightingale did ever chaunt
+     More welcome notes to weary bands
+     Of travellers in some shady haunt
+     Among Arabian sands:
+     A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
+     In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird,
+     Breaking the silence of the seas
+     Among the farthest Hebrides.
+
+     Will no one tell me what she sings?--
+     Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+     For old, unhappy, far-off things,
+     And battles long ago:
+     Or is it some more humble lay,
+     Familiar matter of to-day?
+     Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
+     That has been, or may be again?
+
+     Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
+     As if her song could have no ending;
+     I saw her singing at her work,
+     And o'er the sickle bending;--
+     I listened, motionless and still;
+     And, as I mounted up the hill,
+     The music in my heart I bore,
+     Long after it was heard no more.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth, a town in Cumberland,
+England, April 7, 1770. He went to school at Hawkshead, Lancashire,
+whence in his seventeenth year he was sent to St. John's College,
+Cambridge. In January, 1791, he took his degree at the University, but
+without having distinguished himself in any way. The next fifteen or
+sixteen months were spent in France, just then in the first wild hopes
+of the Revolution. "In the aspirations and hopes of the revolutionists
+he was an ardent sharer; he thought that the world's great age was
+beginning anew; and with all his soul he hailed so splendid an era. The
+ultimate degradation of that great movement by wild lawlessness, and
+then by most selfish ambition, alienated his sympathy for it." Towards
+the close of 1792 he returned to England, and passed the subsequent time
+among his friends in London and elsewhere till he settled with his
+sister at Racedown, Dorsetshire, in 1796. In the following year they
+removed to Alfoxden. It was during this period that he made the
+acquaintance of Coleridge. Wordsworth had already published (1793) two
+little volumes of poetry, entitled _Descriptive Sketches_ and _The
+Evening Walk_; but they showed little promise of the triumphs which were
+to crown his later life. In 1798 the first volume of the _Lyrical
+Ballads_ was published at Bristol, which purported to be the joint work
+of himself and Mr. Coleridge, but to which the latter contributed only
+"The Ancient Mariner" and two or three shorter poems. After some months
+spent in Germany, Wordsworth and his sister established themselves at
+Grasmere, in the lake country. In 1800 he published the second volume of
+the _Lyrical Ballads_, and in 1802 he married Mary Hutchinson. From 1799
+to 1814 he was mainly busy with his great philosophical poem, to be
+called "The Recluse," "containing views of Man, Nature, and Society," of
+which "The Prelude" was to be the introduction and "The Excursion" the
+Second and main Part. He designed that his minor pieces should be so
+arranged in connection with this work as to "give them claim to be
+likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses,
+ordinarily included in Gothic churches." This plan, however, was never
+carried out, as of the First and Third Parts only one book was written,
+and it has never been published. From 1814 until his death Wordsworth
+lived serenely and quietly at Rydal Mount, making occasional excursions
+into Scotland and Wales, and a tour upon the continent. In 1843, upon
+the death of Southey, he was appointed Poet-Laureate. His life was a
+long one, of steady work and much happiness. He died April 23, 1850.
+
+The distinguishing feature of Wordsworth's poetry is well set forth in
+his own words:
+
+     "The moving accident is not my trade,
+        To freeze the blood I have no ready arts;
+      'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,
+        To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts."
+                                     --_Hart-Leap Well, Part II._
+
+"Every great poet," he said, "is a teacher; I wish either to be
+considered as a teacher or as nothing."
+
+And he avowed that the purpose of his poetry was "to console the
+afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier; to
+teach the young and the gracious of every age _to see, to think and
+feel_, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous."
+
+     "Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,
+        His daily teachings had been woods and rills,
+      The silence that is in the starry sky,
+        The sleep that is among the lonely hills."
+
+"Wordsworth," says John Campbell Shairp, "was the first who, both in
+theory and practice, shook off the trammels of the so-called poetic
+diction which had tyrannized over English poetry for more than a
+century. This diction of course exactly represented the half-courtly,
+half-classical mode of thinking and feeling. As Wordsworth rebelled
+against this conventionality of spirit, so against the outward
+expression of it. The whole of the stock phrases and used-up metaphors
+he discarded, and returned to living language of natural feeling, as it
+is used by men, instead of the dead form of it which had got stereotyped
+in books. And just as in his subjects he had taken in from the waste
+much virgin soil, so in his diction he appropriated for poetic use a
+large amount of words, idioms, metaphors, till then by the poets
+disallowed. His shorter poems, both the earlier and the later, are, for
+the most part, very models of natural, powerful, and yet sensitive
+English; the language being, like a garment, woven out of, and
+transparent with, the thought."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= We are Seven; The Pet Lamb; To a Highland Girl;
+Laodamia; Matthew; The Fountain; The Wishing Gate; To the Small
+Celandine; "Three Years She Grew"; "She was a Phantom of Delight"; At
+the Grave of Burns.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Shairp's _Studies in Poetry and Philosophy_; Hazlitt's
+_English Poets_; De Quincey's _Miscellaneous Works_; _Literature and
+Life_, by E. P. Whipple; _Wordsworth_ (English Men of Letters), by
+Goldwin Smith; _Yesterdays with Authors_, by James T. Fields; _Among My
+Books_, Second Series, by J. R. Lowell; Matthew Arnold's Introduction to
+the Poems of William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTABEL.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
+     And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock,
+     Tu--whit!----Tu--whoo!
+     And hark, again! the crowing cock,
+     How drowsily it crew.
+
+     Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
+     Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;
+     From her kennel beneath the rock
+     She maketh answer to the clock,
+     Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
+     Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
+     Sixteen short howls, not over loud;
+     Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.
+
+     Is the night chilly and dark?
+     The night is chilly, but not dark.
+     The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
+     It covers but not hides the sky.
+     The moon is behind, and at the full;
+     And yet she looks both small and dull.
+     The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
+     'Tis a month before the month of May,
+     And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
+
+     The lovely lady, Christabel,
+     Whom her father loves so well,
+     What makes her in the wood so late,
+     A furlong from the castle gate?
+     She had dreams all yesternight
+     Of her own betrothed knight;
+     Dreams that made her moan and leap
+     As on her bed she lay in sleep;
+     And she in the midnight wood will pray
+     For the weal of her lover that's far away.
+
+     She stole along, she nothing spoke,
+     The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
+     And naught was green upon the oak
+     But moss and rarest mistletoe:
+     She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
+     And in silence prayeth she.
+
+     The lady sprang up suddenly,
+     The lovely lady, Christabel!
+     It moaned as near as near can be,
+     But what it is she cannot tell.--
+     On the other side it seems to be
+     Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.
+
+     The night is chill; the forest bare;
+     Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
+     There is not wind enough in the air
+     To move away the ringlet curl
+     From the lovely lady's cheek--
+     There is not wind enough to twirl
+     The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
+     That dances as often as dance it can,
+     Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
+     On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
+
+     Hush, beating heart of Christabel!
+     Jesu, Maria, shield her well!
+     She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
+     And stole to the other side of the oak.
+         What sees she there?
+
+     There she sees a damsel bright,
+     Drest in a silken robe of white,
+     That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
+     The neck that made that white robe wan,
+     Her stately neck and arms were bare;
+     Her blue-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,
+     And wildly glitter'd here and there,
+     The gems entangled in her hair.
+     I guess, 'twas frightful there to see
+     A lady so richly clad as she--
+     Beautiful exceedingly!
+
+     "Mary, mother, save me now!"
+     (Said Christabel,) "And who art thou?"
+
+     The lady strange made answer meet,
+     And her voice was faint and sweet:--
+     "Have pity on my sore distress,
+     I scarce can speak for weariness:
+     Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!"
+     Said Christabel, "How camest thou here?"
+     And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,
+     Did thus pursue her answer meet:--
+     "My sire is of a noble line,
+     And my name is Geraldine:
+     Five warriors seized me yestermorn,
+     Me, even me, a maid forlorn:
+     They choked my cries with force and fright,
+     And tied me on a palfrey white.
+     The palfrey was as fleet as wind,
+     And they rode furiously behind.
+     They spurred amain, their steeds were white:
+     And once we cross'd the shade of night.
+     As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,
+     I have no thought what men they be;
+     Nor do I know how long it is
+     (For I have lain entranced I wis)
+     Since one, the tallest of the five,
+     Took me from the palfrey's back,
+     A weary woman, scarce alive.
+     Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke:
+     He placed me underneath this oak;
+     He swore they would return with haste;
+     Whither they went I cannot tell--
+     I thought I heard, some minutes past,
+     Sounds as of a castle bell.
+     Stretch forth thy hand" (thus ended she),
+     "And help a wretched maid to flee."
+
+     Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand
+     And comforted fair Geraldine;
+     "O well, bright dame! may you command
+     The service of Sir Leoline;
+     And gladly our stout chivalry
+     Will he send forth and friends withal
+     To guide and guard you safe and free
+     Home to your noble father's hall."
+
+     She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd
+     That strove to be, and were not, fast.
+     Her gracious stars the lady blest,
+     And thus spake on sweet Christabel:
+     "All our household are at rest,
+     The hall is silent as the cell;
+     Sir Leoline is weak in health,
+     And may not well awaken'd be,
+     But we will move as if in stealth,
+     And I beseech your courtesy,
+     This night, to share your couch with me."
+
+     They cross'd the moat, and Christabel
+     Took the key that fitted well;
+     A little door she open'd straight,
+     All in the middle of the gate;
+     The gate that was iron'd within and without,
+     Where an army in battle array had march'd out.
+     The lady sank, belike through pain,
+     And Christabel with might and main
+     Lifted her up, a weary weight,
+     Over the threshold of the gate:
+     Then the lady rose again,
+     And moved, as she were not in pain.
+
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+     And Christabel devoutly cried
+     To the lady by her side;
+     "Praise we the Virgin all divine
+     Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!"
+     "Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,
+     "I cannot speak for weariness."
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+
+     Outside her kennel the mastiff old
+     Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.
+     The mastiff old did not awake,
+     Yet she an angry moan did make!
+     And what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+     Never till now she utter'd yell
+     Beneath the eye of Christabel.
+     Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:
+     For what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+
+     They pass'd the hall, that echoes still,
+     Pass as lightly as you will!
+     The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
+     Amid their own white ashes lying;
+     But when the lady pass'd, there came
+     A tongue of light, a fit of flame;
+     And Christabel saw the lady's eye,
+     And nothing else saw she thereby,
+     Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,
+     Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.
+     "O softly tread," said Christabel,
+     "My father seldom sleepeth well."
+
+     Sweet Christabel her feet both bare,
+     And, jealous of the listening air,
+     They steal their way from stair to stair,
+     Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
+     And now they pass the Baron's room,
+     And still as death, with stifled breath!
+     And now have reach'd her chamber door;
+     And now doth Geraldine press down
+     The rushes of the chamber floor.
+
+     The moon shines dim in the open air,
+     And not a moonbeam enters here.
+     But they without its light can see
+     The chamber carved so curiously,
+     Carved with figures strange and sweet,
+     All made out of the carver's brain,
+     For a lady's chamber meet:
+     The lamp with twofold silver chain
+     Is fasten'd to an angel's feet.
+
+     The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
+     But Christabel the lamp will trim.
+     She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,
+     And left it swinging to and fro,
+     While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
+     Sank down upon the floor below.
+
+     "O weary lady, Geraldine,
+     I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
+     It is a wine of virtuous powers;
+     My mother made it of wild flowers."
+
+     "And will your mother pity me,
+     Who am a maiden most forlorn?"
+     Christabel answered--"Woe is me!
+     She died the hour that I was born.
+     I have heard the gray-hair'd friar tell,
+     How on her death-bed she did say,
+     That she should hear the castle-bell
+     Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.
+     O mother dear! that thou wert here!"
+     "I would," said Geraldine, "she were!"
+
+     But soon with altered voice, said she--
+     "Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!
+     I have power to bid thee flee."
+     Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?
+     Why stares she with unsettled eye?
+     Can she the bodiless dead espy?
+     And why with hollow voice cries she,
+     "Off, woman, off! this hour is mine--
+     Though thou her guardian spirit be,
+     Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."
+
+     Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
+     And raised to heaven her eyes so blue--
+     "Alas!" said she, "this ghastly ride--
+     Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!"
+     The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
+     And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"
+
+     Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
+     Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
+     And from the floor whereon she sank,
+     The lofty lady stood upright:
+     She was most beautiful to see,
+     Like a lady of a far countrée.
+
+     And thus the lofty lady spake--
+     "All they who live in the upper sky,
+     Do love you, holy Christabel!
+     And you love them, and for their sake
+     And for the good which me befell,
+     Even I in my degree will try,
+     Fair maiden, to requite you well.
+     But now unrobe yourself; for I
+     Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."
+
+     Quoth Christabel, "So let it be!"
+     And as the lady bade, did she.
+     Her gentle limbs did she undress,
+     And lay down in her loveliness.
+
+     But through her brain of weal and woe
+     So many thoughts move to and fro,
+     That vain it were her lids to close;
+     So half-way from the bed she rose,
+     And on her elbow did recline
+     To look at the lady Geraldine.
+
+     Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,
+     And slowly roll'd her eyes around;
+     Then drawing in her breath aloud
+     Like one that shudder'd, she unbound
+     The cincture from beneath her breast;
+     Her silken robe and inner vest,
+     Dropt to her feet, and full in view,
+     Behold! her bosom and half her side--
+     A sight to dream of, not to tell!
+     O shield her! shield sweet Christabel.
+
+     Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;
+     Ah! what a stricken look was hers!
+     Deep from within seems half-way
+     To lift some weight with sick assay,
+     And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
+     Then suddenly as one defied
+     Collects herself in scorn and pride,
+     And lay down by the maiden's side!--
+     And in her arms the maid she took,
+         Ah, well-a-day!
+     And with low voice and doleful look
+         These words did say:
+     "In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell
+     Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!
+     Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow
+     This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;
+             But vainly thou warrest,
+               For this is alone in
+             Thy power to declare,
+               That in the dim forest
+             Thou heardest a low moaning,
+     And foundest a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
+     And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,
+     To shield her and shelter her from the damp air."
+
+
+NOTES
+
+The first part of the unfinished poem, "Christabel," was written in
+1797, the second part which, however, left the story apparently as
+incomplete as before, in 1808. The two parts were first published in
+1816. The poem is a picture of white innocence, purity, and truth,
+pursued and persecuted by the powers of evil. Its incompleteness seems
+to enhance its interest. "Completion could scarcely have failed to
+lessen its reality, for the reader could not have endured, neither could
+the poet's own theory have endured, the sacrifice of Christabel, the
+triumph of evil over good; and had she triumphed, there is a vulgar
+well-being in victory which has nothing to do with such a strain."
+
+"Such is the unfinished and unfinishable tale of Christabel--a poem
+which, despite its broken notes and over-brevity, has raised its author
+to the highest rank of poets, and which in itself is at once one of
+the sweetest, loftiest, most spiritual utterances that has ever
+been framed in English words. We know of no existing poem in any
+language to which we can compare it. It stands by itself exquisite,
+celestial, ethereal,--a song of the spheres,--yet full of such
+pathos and tenderness and sorrowful beauty as only humanity can
+give."--_Blackwood's Magazine_, 1871.
+
+It is worthy of note that "Christabel" was the immediate inspiration of
+Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel." "It is to Mr. Coleridge," says Sir
+Walter, "that I am bound to make the acknowledgment due from the pupil
+to his master." "But certainly," says Hales, "Scott himself never
+succeeded in surrounding any one of his works with so fine an atmosphere
+of glamour and romance."
+
+The language and metrical arrangement of this poem are not only peculiar
+but are in full accord with the weird and fantastic conception of the
+piece as a whole. The versification is based upon a principle not
+commonly practised--that of counting the number of accentuated words in
+a line instead of the number of syllables. Though the latter varies from
+seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents never exceed four. The
+result is an irregular, but strangely beautiful harmony of a kind that
+can hardly be attained through the ordinary methods of versification.
+
+This poem is to be studied for its exquisite beauty, for the true poetic
+qualities which it possesses and which distinguish it from mere verse.
+Hence, no explanatory notes are given with reference to any particular
+passage, nor is it desirable that it should be analyzed with a view to
+grammatical or philological study. It should be read and reread until
+the student is thoroughly in accord with the poetic spirit which
+breathes in and vivifies the entire production. "It was indolence, no
+doubt, that left the tale half told--indolence and misery--and a poetic
+instinct higher than all the better impulses of industry and virtuous
+gain. The subject by its very nature was incomplete; it had to be left a
+lovely, weird suggestion--a vision for every eye that could see."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery Saint Mary, October 21, 1772.
+He was educated at Christ's Hospital and at Jesus College, Cambridge. At
+the age of twenty-two he left the University without having taken a
+degree. He was an intimate friend of Charles Lamb and Southey, and with
+the latter formed a wild scheme for the founding of a "Pantisocratic
+State" in America, which, however, was soon abandoned. His first book of
+poetry was published in 1794. In 1796 he and Charles Lamb published a
+volume of poems together. He soon afterwards became acquainted with
+Wordsworth, and in 1798 the two brought out their famous volume of
+_Lyrical Ballads_, containing some of Wordsworth's best pieces and
+Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." "Christabel," after lying in manuscript
+for several years, was published in 1816, three editions being issued
+within twelve months. Coleridge's chief poems were published in 1817 in
+a collection entitled _Sibylline Leaves_, so called, he says, "in
+allusion to the fragmentary and wildly scattered state in which they had
+long been suffered to remain." At about the same time he was received
+into the house of Mr. Gillman, a surgeon residing at Highgate, in order
+to be cured if possible of his excessive use of opium. Here he produced
+his more important prose works, _Aids to Reflection_, and _On the
+Constitution of Church and State_; and here he died, July 25, 1834.
+
+Coleridge was forever planning and designing,--beginning a work and
+leaving its completion until to-morrow--which never came. He devoted his
+attention only sparingly to poetry--and that chiefly during his youth.
+Later in life he was occupied with political, social, and religious
+questions. "He was a living Hamlet, full of the most splendid thoughts
+and the noblest purposes, but a most incompetent doer." "His mind,"
+wrote Southey, "is a perpetual St. Vitus's dance--eternal activity
+without action."
+
+"Of Coleridge's best verses," says Swinburne, "I venture to affirm that
+the world has nothing like them, and can never have; that they are of
+the highest kind, and of their own. They are jewels of the diamond's
+price, flowers of the rose's rank, but unlike any rose or diamond
+known."
+
+"His best work is but little," says Stopford Brooke, "but of its kind it
+is perfect and unique. . . . All that he did excellently might be bound
+up in twenty pages, but it should be bound in pure gold."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Hymn before
+Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni; Ode to France; Genevieve.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Swinburne's _Studies and Essays_; Shairp's _Studies in
+Poetry_; Carlyle's _Reminiscences_; Coleridge's _Biographia Literaria_;
+De Quincey's _Essays_; _Coleridge_ (English Men of Letters), by H. D.
+Traill; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Hunt's _Imagination and Fancy_;
+Chorley's _Authors of England_; Walter Pater's _Apprecia_.
+
+
+
+
+Percy Bysshe Shelley.
+
+
+
+
+TO A SKYLARK
+
+
+               Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
+                 Bird thou never wert,
+               That from heaven, or near it,
+                 Pourest thy full heart
+     In profuse{1} strains of unpremeditated art.
+
+               Higher still, and higher,
+                 From the earth thou springest
+               Like a cloud of fire;
+                 The deep blue thou wingest,{2}
+     And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
+
+               In the golden lightning
+                 Of the sunken sun,{3}
+               O'er which clouds are brightening,
+                 Thou dost float and run,
+     Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
+
+               The pale purple even
+                 Melts around thy flight;
+               Like a star of heaven,
+                 In the broad daylight
+     Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
+
+               Keen as are the arrows
+                 Of that silver sphere,
+               Whose intense lamp narrows
+                 In the white dawn clear,
+     Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
+
+               All the earth and air
+                 With thy voice is loud,
+               As, when night is bare,
+                 From one lonely cloud
+     The moon rains{4} out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
+
+               What thou art we know not;--
+                 What is most like thee?
+               From rainbow clouds there flow not
+                 Drops so bright to see,
+     As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
+
+               Like a poet hidden
+                 In the light of thought,
+               Singing hymns unbidden,
+                 Till the world is wrought{5}
+     To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
+
+               Like a high-born maiden
+                 In a palace tower,
+               Soothing her love-laden
+                 Soul in secret hour
+     With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:
+
+               Like a glow-worm golden
+                 In a dell of dew,
+               Scattering unbeholden
+                 Its aërial hue
+     Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:
+
+               Like a rose embowered
+                 In its own green leaves,
+               By warm winds deflowered,
+                 Till the scent it gives
+     Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.
+
+               Sound of vernal showers
+                 On the twinkling grass,
+               Rain-awakened flowers,
+                 All that ever was
+     Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
+
+               Teach us, sprite{6} or bird,
+                 What sweet thoughts are thine:
+               I have never heard
+                 Praise of love or wine
+     That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
+
+               Chorus hymeneal,{7}
+                 Or triumphal chaunt,
+               Matched with thine would be all
+                 But an empty vaunt--
+     A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
+
+               What objects are the fountains
+                 Of thy happy strain?
+               What fields, or waves, or mountains?
+                 What shapes of sky or plain?
+     What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
+
+               With thy clear keen joyance
+                 Langour cannot be:
+               Shadow of annoyance
+                 Never came near thee:
+     Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
+
+               Waking or asleep;
+                 Thou of death must deem
+               Things more true and deep
+                 Than we mortals dream--
+     Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
+
+               We look before and after,
+                 And pine for what is not:{8}
+               Our sincerest laughter
+                 With some pain is fraught:
+     Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
+
+               Yet if we could scorn
+                 Hate, and pride, and fear;
+               If we were things born
+                 Not to shed a tear,
+     I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
+
+               Better than all measures
+                 Of delight and sound,
+               Better than all treasures
+                 That in books are found,
+     Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
+
+               Teach me half the gladness
+                 That thy brain must know,
+               Such harmonious madness
+                 From my lips would flow,
+     The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is perhaps the most perfect lyric of its kind in the English
+language. Every verse is worthy of careful study, and it should be read
+and reread until its exquisite melody is felt and the subtle thoughts
+which it embodies fully understood. Yet there is little in the poem
+which requires annotation--the lark's song itself admits of no
+explanation.
+
+"For sweetness the 'Ode to a Skylark' is inferior only to
+Coleridge, in rapturous passion to no man. It is like the bird
+it sings,--enthusiastic, enchanting, profuse, continuous, and
+alone,--small, but filling the heavens."--_Leigh Hunt._
+
+"Has any one, since Shakespeare and Spenser, lighted on such tender and
+such grand ecstasies?"--_Taine._
+
+The skylark is very generally distributed over the northern portions of
+the Old World, but is not found in America. Its song in the morning may
+often be heard when the bird is so high as to be entirely out of sight,
+and although not finely modulated is remarkably cheerful and prolonged.
+A person who is accustomed to the song can tell by its variations
+whether it be ascending, stationary, or descending.
+
+
+1. =profuse.= Accent here on the first syllable. From Lat. _profundo_, to
+pour forth.
+
+2. Explain the figures of rhetoric employed in this line. The meaning of
+=blue=; of =wingest=.
+
+3. =sunken sun.= The sun is not yet above the horizon, but the bird has
+risen so high that it is visible to him, and he "floats and runs" in its
+golden light.
+
+4. What is the meaning of =rains=? of =rain= in the next stanza?
+
+5. =wrought.= Influenced. A.-S. _worhte_, _wyrcan_, to work.
+
+6. =sprite.= Spirit. In the first stanza he calls the lark a spirit and
+says it never was a bird; here he calls it "bird or sprite."
+
+7. =Chorus hymeneal.= See note on "Prothalamion," page 241.
+
+8. Compare this thought with the ideas contained in Wordsworth's "Ode on
+the Intimations of Immortality."
+
+=pine.= From A.-S. _pinan_, to pain. Our word _pain_ is derived from the
+same root.
+
+
+
+
+HYMN OF PAN.
+
+
+           From the forests and highlands
+             We come, we come;
+           From the river-girt islands,
+             Where loud waves are dumb
+     Listening to my sweet pipings.
+           The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
+             The bees on the bells of thyme,
+           The birds on the myrtle-bushes,
+             The cicale above in the lime,
+           And the lizards below in the grass,
+     Were as silent as ever old Tmolus{1} was,
+         Listening to my sweet pipings.
+
+         Liquid Peneus{2} was flowing,
+           And all dark Tempe lay
+         In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
+           The light of the dying day,
+         Speeded by my sweet pipings.
+           The Sileni{3} and Sylvans and Fauns,
+             And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
+           To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
+             And the brink of the dewy caves,
+     And all that did then attend and follow,
+     Were silent with love,--as you now, Apollo,{4}
+         With envy of my sweet pipings.
+
+         I sang of the dancing stars,
+           I sang of the dædal{5} earth,
+         And of heaven, and the Giant wars,{6}
+           And love, and death, and birth,
+         And then I changed my pipings,--
+         Singing how down the vale of Mænalus
+           I pursued a maiden,{7} and clasped a reed:
+         Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;
+           It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
+         All wept--as I think both ye now would,
+         If envy or age had not frozen your blood--
+             At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pan, as described in the Homeric hymns, is "lord of all the hills and
+dales": sometimes he ranges along the tops of the mountains; sometimes
+pursues the game in the valleys, roams through the woods, or floats
+along the streams; or drives his sheep into a cave, and there plays on
+his reeds music not to be excelled by that of the sweetest singing
+birds; and
+
+        "With him the clear-singing mountain-nymphs
+      Move quick their feet, by the dark-watered spring
+      In the soft mead, where crocus, hyacinths,
+      Fragrant and blooming, mingle with the grass
+      Confused, and sing, while echo peals around
+      The mountain's top."
+
+Keats, in "Endymion," thus apostrophizes Pan:
+
+     "O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,
+      While ever and anon to his shorn peers
+      A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
+      When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn
+      Anger our huntsmen: Breather round our farms,
+      To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:
+      Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,
+      That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,
+      And wither drearily on barren moors:
+      Dread opener of the mysterious doors
+      Leading to universal knowledge--see,
+      Great son of Dryope,
+      The many that are come to pay their vows
+      With leaves about their brows!"
+
+
+1. =Tmolus.= It was Tmolus who acted as umpire in the musical contest
+between Pan and Apollo. This contest is directly referred to throughout
+this poem.
+
+2. =Peneus.= The chief river of Thessaly. It flows through the Vale of
+Tempe, and between the mountains Ossa and Pelion, emptying finally into
+the Ægean Sea. (See map of ancient Greece.)
+
+3. =Sileni.= A name applied to the older satyrs. They were fond of wine
+and of every kind of sensual pleasure, and hence represented the
+luxuriant powers of nature, and were connected with the worship of
+Bacchus.
+
+=Sylvans.= Deities of the fields and forests.
+
+=Fauns.= Gods of the shepherds, flocks, and fields. A faun was usually
+represented as half man and half goat.
+
+4. =Apollo.= One of the chief divinities of the Greeks; the god of music
+and song, of prophecy, of the flocks and herds, of the founding of
+towns, and of the sun. He was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born on
+the island of Delos. His favorite oracle was at Delphi.
+
+5. =dædal.= Labyrinthine, wonderful. From Dædalus, a famous Athenian
+architect, who designed the labyrinth at Crete in which the Minotaur was
+kept.
+
+6. =Giant wars.= The wars of the Titans,--the contest in which Zeus
+overcame and deposed his father, Chronos, and made himself supreme ruler
+of the universe. The Titans, who were opposed to him, were overcome, and
+hurled into the lowest depths of Tartarus.
+
+=Mænalus.= A mountain in Arcadia, celebrated as the favorite haunt of Pan.
+
+7. =maiden.= Syrinx, a nymph of Arcadia, devoted to the service of
+Artemis. "As she was returning one day from the chase, Pan saw and loved
+her; but when he would address her, she fled. The god pursued. She
+reached the river Ladon, and, unable to cross it, implored the aid of
+her sister nymphs; and when Pan thought to grasp the object of his
+pursuit, he found his arms filled with reeds. At that moment the wind
+began to agitate the reeds and produced a low musical sound. The god
+took the hint, cut seven of the twigs, and formed from them his
+_syrinx_, or pastoral pipe." See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_.
+
+
+
+
+FROM "EPIPSYCHIDION."
+
+
+                                     Emily,
+     A ship is floating in the harbor now;
+     A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;
+     There is a path on the sea's azure floor,--
+     No keel has ever ploughed that path before;
+     The halcyons{1} brood around the foamless isles;
+     The treacherous ocean has forsworn its wiles;
+     The merry mariners are bold and free:
+     Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?
+     Our bark is as an albatross whose nest
+     Is a far Eden of the purple east;
+     And we between her wings will sit, while Night
+     And Day and Storm and Calm pursue their flight,
+     Our ministers, along the boundless sea,
+     Treading each other's heels, unheededly.
+     It is an isle under Ionian{2} skies,
+     Beautiful as a wreck of paradise;
+     And, for{3} the harbors are not safe and good,
+     This land would have remained a solitude
+     But for some pastoral people native there,
+     Who from the elysian, clear, and golden air
+     Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,{4}--
+     Simple and spirited, innocent and bold.
+     The blue Ægean girds this chosen home,
+     With ever-changing sound and light and foam
+     Kissing the sifted sands and caverns hoar;
+     And all the winds wandering along the shore
+     Undulate with the undulating tide.
+     There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;
+     And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond,
+     As clear as elemental diamond,
+     Or serene morning air. And far beyond,
+     The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer
+     (Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)
+     Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls
+     Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls
+     Illumining, with sound that never fails,
+     Accompany the noonday nightingales.
+     And all the place is peopled with sweet airs.{5}
+     The light clear element which the isle wears
+     Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,
+     Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,
+     And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;
+     And from the moss violets and jonquils peep,
+     And dart their arrowy odor through the brain,
+     Till you might faint with that delicious pain.
+     And every motion, odor, beam, and tone,
+     With that deep music is in unison:
+     Which is a soul within the soul,--they seem
+     Like echoes of an antenatal dream.{6}
+     It is an isle 'twixt heaven, air, earth, and sea,
+     Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity;
+     Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer,{7}
+     Washed by the soft blue oceans of young air.{8}
+     It is a favored place. Famine or blight,
+     Pestilence, war, and earthquake, never light
+     Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they
+     Sail onward far upon their fatal way.
+     The wingèd storms, chaunting their thunder-psalm
+     To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm
+     Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,
+     From which its fields and woods ever renew
+     Their green and golden immortality.
+     And from the sea there rise, and from the sky
+     There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,
+     Veil after veil, each hiding some delight:
+     Which sun or moon or zephyr draw aside,
+     Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride
+     Glowing at once with love and loveliness,
+     Blushes and trembles at its own excess.
+     Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less
+     Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,
+     An atom of the Eternal, whose own smile
+     Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen
+     O'er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green,
+     Filling their bare and void interstices.
+     This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed
+     Thee to be lady of the solitude.
+     And I have fitted up some chambers there
+     Looking towards the golden eastern air,
+     And level with the living winds which flow
+     Like waves above the living waves below.
+     I have sent books and music there, and all
+     Those instruments with which high spirits call
+     The future from its cradle, and the past
+     Out of its grave, and make the present last
+     In thoughts and joys which sleep but cannot die,
+     Folded within their own eternity.
+     Our simple life wants little, and true taste
+     Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste
+     The scene it would adorn; and therefore still
+     Nature with all her children haunts the hill.
+     The ringdove in the embowering ivy yet
+     Keeps up her love-lament; and the owls flit
+     Round the evening tower; and the young stars glance
+     Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;
+     The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight
+     Before our gate; and the slow silent night
+     Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep.
+     Be this our home in life; and, when years heap
+     Their withered hours like leaves on our decay,
+     Let us become the overhanging day,
+     The living soul, of this elysian isle--
+     Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile
+     We two will rise and sit and walk together
+     Under the roof of blue Ionian weather;
+     And wander in the meadows; or ascend
+     The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend
+     With lightest winds to touch their paramour;{9}
+     Or linger where the pebble-paven shore
+     Under the quick faint kisses of the sea
+     Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy;--
+     Possessing and possessed by all that is
+     Within that calm circumference of bliss,
+     And by each other, till to love and live
+     Be one. . . .
+     We shall become the same, we shall be one
+     Spirit within two frames, oh wherefore two?
+     One passion in twin hearts, which grows and grew
+     Till, like two meteors of expanding flame,
+     Those spheres instinct with it become the same,
+     Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still
+     Burning, yet ever inconsumable;
+     In one another's substance finding food,
+     Light flames too pure and light and unimbued
+     To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,
+     Which point to heaven and cannot pass away:
+     One hope within two wills, one will beneath
+     Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,
+     One heaven, one hell, one immortality,
+     And one annihilation!
+
+                           Woe is me!
+     The wingèd words on which my soul would pierce
+     Into the height of Love's rare universe
+     Are chains of lead around its flight of fire--
+     I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"A clever but disreputable professor at Pisa one day related to Shelley
+the sad story of a beautiful and noble lady, the Contessina Emilia
+Viviani, who had been confined by her father in a dismal convent of the
+suburbs, to await her marriage with a distasteful husband." Shelley,
+fired as ever by a tale of tyranny, was eager to visit the fair captive.
+The professor accompanied him and Medwin to the convent parlor, where
+they found her more lovely than even the most glowing descriptions had
+led them to expect. Nor was she only beautiful. Shelley soon discovered
+that she had "cultivated her mind beyond what I have ever met with in
+Italian women"; and a rhapsody composed by her upon the subject of
+Uranian Love--"Il Vero Amore"--justifies the belief that she possessed
+an intellect of more than ordinary elevation. He took Mrs. Shelley to
+see her; and both did all they could to make her convent prison less
+irksome by frequent visits, by letters, by presents of flowers and
+books. It was not long before Shelley's sympathy for this unfortunate
+lady took the form of love, which, however spiritual and Platonic, was
+not the less passionate. The result was the composition of
+"Epipsychidion," the most unintelligible of all his poems to those who
+have not assimilated the spirit of Plato's _Symposium_ and Dante's _Vita
+Nuova_.--_J. A. Symonds._
+
+W. M. Rossetti characterizes this poem as "a pure outpouring of poetry;
+a brimming and bubbling fountain of freshness and music, magical with
+its own spray rainbows."
+
+A year after its composition, Shelley wrote: "The 'Epipsychidion' I
+cannot look at. If you are curious, however, to hear what I am and have
+been, it will tell you something thereof. It is an idealized history of
+my life and feelings."
+
+
+=Epipsychidion.= From Gr. _epi_, upon, and _psyche_, the soul. This poem
+is addressed "to the noble and unfortunate Lady Emilia Viviani, now
+imprisoned in the Convent of St. Anne, Pisa," and was written in 1821.
+
+1. =halcyons.= Kingfishers. Halcyone was the daughter of Æolus and wife of
+Ceyx. When her husband died she was changed into a bird,--the
+kingfisher,--and, floating over the sea, she still calls for the lost
+Ceyx in tones full of plaining and tears. And "whensoever she makes her
+nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
+weather--days distinguishable among all others for their serenity."
+
+2. =Ionian.= Greek. See the expression "Under the roof of blue Ionian
+weather," below. Explain its meaning.
+
+3. =for.= Since, because.
+
+=elysian.= Heavenly. Pertaining to Elysium, the islands of the blest, the
+Elysian fields.
+
+4. =age of gold.= Compare Milton, "Hymn on the Nativity" (see note 36,
+page 192. See, also, poem by John Lydgate, page 275).
+
+5. =peopled with sweet airs.= Filled with sweet music.
+
+6. =antenatal dream.= See Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of
+Immortality" (also, note 13, page 47).
+
+     "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting."
+
+7. =Lucifer.= Venus when seen in the morning, rising before the sun is
+called Lucifer, the light-bearer. From Lat. _lux_, light, and _fero_, to
+bear (see note 18, page 189). The same star when seen in the evening,
+following the sun, is called Hesperus.
+
+8. =blue oceans of young air.= Explain.
+
+9. =paramour.= See Milton's "Ode on the Nativity," stanza i.
+
+     "It was no reason then for her
+      To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour."
+
+Milton makes the sun the paramour of the earth; Shelley, the earth the
+paramour of the sky.
+
+
+
+
+A LAMENT.
+
+
+     Swifter far than summer's flight,
+     Swifter far than youth's delight,
+     Swifter far than happy night,
+           Art thou come and gone:
+     As the earth when leaves are dead,
+     As the night when sleep is sped,
+     As the heart when joy is fled,
+           I am left alone, alone.
+
+     The swallow Summer comes again,
+     The owlet Night resumes her reign,
+     But the wild swan Youth is fain
+           To fly with thee, false as thou.
+     My heart each day desires the morrow,
+     Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,
+     Vainly would my winter borrow
+           Sunny leaves from any bough.
+
+     Lilies for a bridal bed,
+     Roses for a matron's head,
+     Violets for a maiden dead,
+           Pansies let my flowers be:
+     On the living grave I bear,
+     Scatter them without a tear,
+     Let no friend, however dear,
+           Waste one hope, one fear, for me.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex,
+August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eton and at Oxford. While a student
+at the latter place, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled _The Necessity of
+Atheism_, which caused his expulsion from college. This occurred in
+1811, and in the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, from whom,
+three years later, he separated. In 1816 he married Mary Godwin. In 1818
+he left England for Italy, where he remained until his death by drowning
+in the gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. His first considerable poem, "Queen
+Mab," was published in 1813; "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," in
+1816; "The Revolt of Islam," in 1818; and "Epipsychidion" and "Adonais"
+in 1821. His two dramas, the "Cenci" and "Prometheus Unbound," were
+issued, the former in 1819, the latter in 1821.
+
+"Shelley's early rupture with the English world," says Hales, "lost him
+all the advantages which a fuller experience of it and a longer
+intercourse with it might have given. That world was no less estranged
+from him than he from it. It misunderstood and misinterpreted him
+throughout his career. It covered him with its opprobrium. Assuredly, he
+was not the man that world painted. It by no means follows that because
+Shelley did not repeat the ordinary creeds, and even mocked at them,
+that he believed nothing. Shelley was never in his soul an atheist: it
+was simply impossible with his nature that he should be; what he did
+deny and defy was a deity whose worship seemed, as he saw the world,
+consistent with the reign of selfishness and bigotry."
+
+Lord Macaulay says: "We doubt whether any modern poet has possessed in
+an equal degree some of the highest qualities of the great ancient
+masters. The words _bard_ and _inspiration_, which seem so cold and
+affected when applied to other modern writers, have a perfect propriety
+when applied to him. He was not an author, but a bard. His poetry seems
+not to have been an art, but an inspiration. Had he lived to the full
+age of man, he might not improbably, have given to the world some great
+work of the very highest rank in design and execution."
+
+Leigh Hunt says: "Assuredly, had he lived, he would have been the
+greatest dramatic writer since the days of Elizabeth. In general, if
+Coleridge is the sweetest of our poets, Shelley is at once the most
+ethereal and most gorgeous--the one who has clothed his thoughts in
+draperies of the most evanescent and most magnificent words and imagery.
+His poetry is as full of mountains, seas, and skies, of light, and
+darkness, and the seasons, and all the elements of our being, as if
+Nature herself had written it, with the Creation and its hopes newly
+cast around her, not, it must be confessed, without too indiscriminate a
+mixture of great and small, and a want of sufficient shade--a certain
+chaotic brilliancy, 'dark with excess of light.'"
+
+Another English poet says: "Shelley outsang all poets on record but some
+two or three throughout all time; his depths and heights of inner and
+outer music are as divine as nature's, and not sooner exhaustible. He
+was alone the perfect singing-god; his thoughts, words, deeds, all sang
+together."
+
+"The poet who creates a new ideal, and fills men's hearts with the flame
+of a divine desire, is a practical force in the stream of human
+development--and this Shelley has done. So much of his poetry is full of
+the tender melancholy of the moonlight he loved, that the world is still
+half blind to his highest bardic character, as the poet of a spiritual
+dawn, the eager spirit who flies forward--
+
+     "Calling the lapsèd soul,
+     And weeping in the morning dew."
+
+Even his moonlight seems to reflect the beams of some unrisen sun; and
+his sunlight has all the ethereal exhilaration of that of the first
+hours of a glorious day."--_John Todhunter._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Adonais; The Sensitive Plant; The Cloud; Mount
+Blanc; To Wordsworth; The Euganean Hills; Liberty; Alastor; Prometheus
+Unbound.
+
+
+REFERENCES: De Quincey's _Essays_; Jeaffreson's _The Real Shelley_;
+_Shelley_ (English Men of Letters), by J. A. Symonds; Leigh Hunt's
+_Imagination and Fancy_; Rossetti's _Memoir of Shelley_; Dowden's _Life
+of P. B. Shelley_; Moore's _Life of Lord Byron_; Middleton's _Shelley
+and his Writings_; Medwin's _Life of Shelley_; Trelawney's
+_Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron_; Todhunter's
+_Shelley: A Study_.
+
+
+
+
+John Keats.
+
+
+
+
+ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE.
+
+
+I
+
+     My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
+       My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
+     Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
+       One minute past, and Lethe-wards{1} had sunk:
+     'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
+       But being too happy in thy happiness,--
+         That thou, light-winged Dryad{2} of the trees,
+               In some melodious plot
+       Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
+         Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
+
+
+II.
+
+     O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
+       Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
+     Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
+       Dance, and Provençal song,{3} and sun-burnt mirth!
+     O for a beaker full of the warm South,
+       Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,{4}
+         With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
+               And purple-stained mouth;
+       That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
+         And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
+
+
+III.
+
+     Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
+       What thou among the leaves hast never known,
+     The weariness, the fever, and the fret
+       Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
+     Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
+       Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
+         Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
+               And leaden-eyed despairs;
+       Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
+         Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
+       Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,{5}
+     But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
+       Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
+     Already with thee! tender is the night,
+       And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
+         Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
+               But here there is no light,
+     Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
+       Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
+
+
+V.
+
+     I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
+       Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
+     But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
+       Wherewith the seasonable month endows
+     The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
+       White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;{6}
+       Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
+               And mid-May's eldest child,
+     The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
+       The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Darkling{7} I listen; and for many a time
+       I have been half in love with easeful Death,
+     Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
+       To take into the air my quiet breath;
+     Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
+       To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
+         While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
+               In such an ecstasy!
+     Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
+       To thy high requiem{8} become a sod.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
+       No hungry generations tread thee down;
+     The voice I hear this passing night was heard
+       In ancient days by emperor and clown:
+     Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
+       Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
+         She stood in tears amid the alien corn{9};
+               The same that oft-times hath
+     Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
+       Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
+       To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
+     Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
+       As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
+     Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
+       Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
+         Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
+               In the next valley-glades:
+       Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
+         Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This poem," says Leigh Hunt, "was written in a house at the foot of
+Highgate Hill, on the border of the fields looking towards Hampstead.
+The poet had then his mortal illness upon him, and knew it; never was
+the voice of death sweeter."
+
+
+1. =Lethe-wards.= That is, towards Lethe. Lethe was one of the rivers of
+Hell. Its name means "forgetfulness." Milton describes it thus:
+
+                      "A slow and silent stream,
+      Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
+      Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks
+      Forthwith his former state and being forgets--
+      Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."
+
+--_Paradise Lost_, ii, 583.
+
+2. =Dryad.= A wood-nymph. From Gr. _drus_, an oak tree. The life of the
+Dryad was supposed to be bound up with that of her tree.
+
+"The quickening power of the soul, like Martha, is 'busy about many
+things,' or, like a Dryad, living in a tree."--_Sir John Davis._
+
+3. =Provençal song.= Song of the troubadours, a school of lyric poets that
+flourished in Provence, in the south of France, from the eleventh to the
+thirteenth century. A love song.
+
+4. =Hippocrene.= The "Fountain of the Horse" (_Fons Caballinus_). A
+fountain on Mount Helicon, Boeotia, sacred to the Muses. It was said
+to have been produced by the horse Pegasus striking the ground with his
+feet. Its waters were supposed to be a source of poetical inspiration.
+
+Longfellow, in "The Goblet of Life," says:
+
+     "No purple flowers--no garlands green,
+      Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,
+      Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,
+      Like gleams of sunshine, flash between
+            Thick leaves of mistletoe."
+
+5. =Bacchus and his pards.= Bacchus was frequently represented as riding
+on the back of a leopard, a tiger, or a lion, or in a chariot drawn by
+panthers.
+
+=pards.= Spotted beasts.
+
+See Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," third stanza, page 160.
+
+6. Compare with Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act ii, sc.
+i:
+
+     "I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
+      Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
+      Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
+      With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."
+
+7. =darkling.= In the dark. The word is very rarely used.
+
+8. =requiem.= A dirge, or funeral song. "So called from the first word in
+the Catholic mass for the dead, _Requiem æternum dona iis Domine_ (Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord)."--_Brand._
+
+=become a sod.= Compare with Ecclesiastes, xii, 7: "Then shall the dust
+return to the earth as it was."
+
+9. =alien corn.= See Ruth, ii. Why _alien_ corn? Longfellow, in his poem
+on "Flowers," says:
+
+     "Everywhere about us they are glowing--
+        Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;
+      Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
+        Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."
+
+
+
+
+FROM "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES."
+
+
+       Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
+       And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
+       As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
+       Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
+       And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
+       And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
+       She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
+       Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint:
+     She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
+
+       Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
+       Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
+       Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
+       Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
+       Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
+       Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
+       Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
+       In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
+     But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
+
+       Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
+       In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay,
+       Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed
+       Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
+       Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
+       Blissfully havened both from joy and pain;
+       Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray:
+       Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
+     As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
+
+       Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,
+       Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
+       And listened to her breathing, if it chanced
+       To wake into a slumberous tenderness;
+       Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
+       And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,
+       Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
+       And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept,
+     And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!--how fast she slept.
+
+       Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
+       Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
+       A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon
+       A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:--
+       O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
+       The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
+       The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,
+       Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:--
+     The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.
+
+       And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
+       In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,
+       While he from forth the closet brought a heap
+       Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
+       With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
+       And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;
+       Manna and dates, in argosy transferred
+       From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
+     From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
+
+       These delicates he heaped with glowing hand
+       On golden dishes and in baskets bright
+       Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
+       In the retired quiet of the night,
+       Filling the chilly room with perfume light.--
+       "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
+       Thou art mine heaven, and I thine eremite:
+       Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,
+     Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."
+
+       Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
+       Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
+       By the dusk curtains:--'twas a midnight charm
+       Impossible to melt as iced stream:
+       The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
+       Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
+       It seemed he never, never could redeem
+       From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;
+     So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.
+
+       Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,--
+       Tumultuous,--and, in chords that tenderest be,
+       He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
+       In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy":
+       Close to her ear touching the melody;--
+       Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan:
+       He ceased--she panted quick--and suddenly
+       Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
+     Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.
+
+       Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
+       Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
+       There was a painful change, that nigh expelled
+       The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.
+       At which fair Madeline began to weep,
+       And moan forth witless words with many a sigh
+       While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
+       Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
+     Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.
+
+       "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
+       Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
+       Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
+       And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
+       How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
+       Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
+       Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
+       Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,
+     For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."
+
+       Beyond a mortal man impassioned far
+       At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
+       Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star
+       Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
+       Into her dream he melted, as the rose
+       Blendeth its odor with the violet,--
+       Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
+       Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
+     Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.
+
+       'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
+       "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
+       'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
+       "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!
+       Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.--
+       Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
+       I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,
+       Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;--
+     A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."
+
+       "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
+       Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
+       Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?
+       Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
+       After so many hours of toil and quest,
+       A famished pilgrim,--saved by miracle.
+       Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest,
+       Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
+     To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."
+
+       "Hark!'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
+       Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
+       Arise--arise! the morning is at hand;--
+       The bloated wassailers will never heed:--
+       Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
+       There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,--
+       Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
+       Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
+     For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."
+
+       She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
+       For there were sleeping dragons all around,
+       At glaring watch, perhaps with ready spears--
+       Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,
+       In all the house was heard no human sound.
+       A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;
+       The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
+       Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;
+     And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
+
+       They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall!
+       Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,
+       Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
+       With a huge empty flagon by his side:
+       The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
+       But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
+       By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:--
+       The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;
+     The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.
+
+       And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
+       These lovers fled away into the storm.
+       That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
+       And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
+       Of witch and demon and large coffin-worm,
+       Were long be-nightmared. Angela, the old,
+       Died palsy-twitch'd with meagre face deform;
+       The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
+       For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"The Eve of St. Agnes" is one of the finest of Keats's shorter poems.
+Leigh Hunt describes it as "the most complete specimen of his genius;
+exquisitely loving; young, but full-grown poetry of the rarest
+description; graceful as the beardless Apollo; glowing and gorgeous with
+the colors of romance." The stanzas here quoted, while comprising the
+main portion of the story, are not quite half of the entire poem.
+
+Madeline, the beautiful daughter of a rude and rich old baron, is
+secretly betrothed to Porphyro, a young man whom her father has sworn to
+slay. On the eve of St. Agnes a great feast is in progress in the
+baron's castle. Porphyro, at the risk of his life, "comes across the
+moors, with heart on fire for Madeline." With the aid of the old nurse,
+Angela, he gains admission into the castle and is concealed in a closet,
+where he conceives the plan for their elopement. In the meanwhile,
+Madeline, having danced with her father's guests, retires to her room,
+her mind full of the thought of Porphyro, and intent upon testing the
+truth of the belief, then current, that on this evening, maidens might,
+if they performed certain ceremonies and forms, be vouchsafed a sight of
+their future husbands.
+
+St. Agnes was a young virgin of Palermo, who is said to have suffered
+martyrdom at the age of thirteen, in the Diocletian persecution, about
+A.D. 304. Her feast was celebrated on the 21st of January.
+
+With reference to the versification of this poem, see what is said of
+the Spenserian stanza, page 232. There are many imitations of Spenser in
+these verses.
+
+The student is desired to discover for himself the peculiarities of
+thought, of feeling, of expression, which give interest and beauty to
+this production. The following are a few of the words and expressions
+whose meaning he should study: "Gules"; "taint"; "vespers"; "poppied";
+"Swart Paynims"; "Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness"; "Morphean
+amulet"; "affray"; "azure-lidded sleep"; "argosy"; "missal"; "tinct";
+"Fez"; "Samarcand"; "Lebanon"; "eremite"; "witless"; "alarum"; "entoiled
+in woofed phantasies"; "La belle dame sans mercy"; "heart-shaped and
+vermeil dyed"; "Of haggard seeming"; "arras."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN KEATS was born October 29, 1795, in Moorfields, London. He was sent
+to school at Enfield, where he gained the rudiments of a classical
+education; but, his father having died when John was a mere child, he
+was apprenticed at an early age to a surgeon in Edmonton. When seventeen
+years old a copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene" fell into his hands, and
+the perusal of that great poem was the beginning, for him, of a new
+life. He felt the poetic instinct within him, and resolved that he too
+would be a poet. In 1817 he published a small volume of poems, which
+attracted but little attention; and in 1818 his more ambitious effort,
+"Endymion," was presented to the world. The latter poem was unkindly
+received by the great reviews. The author was advised to "go back to his
+gallipots," and told that "a starved apothecary was better than a
+starved poet." A story was long current that these severe criticisms
+induced Keats's early death, but this is entirely improbable. He
+continued writing, although consumption, a hereditary disease in his
+family, had already begun its work upon him. He published "The Eve of
+St. Agnes" in 1820, and had made some progress with a noble poem,
+entitled "Hyperion," which Lord Byron declared to be "actually inspired
+by the Titans, and as sublime as Æschylus." In September of that year he
+sailed for Italy, but the hope of prolonging life by a change of climate
+proved to be vain. On the 27th of February, 1821, he died at Rome.
+
+"We can hardly be wrong in believing," says Masson, "that had Keats
+lived to the ordinary age of man, he would have been one of the greatest
+of all our poets. As it is, I believe we shall all be disposed to place
+him very near indeed to our very best."
+
+"That which was deepest in his mind," says Stopford Brooke, "was the
+love of loveliness for its own sake, the sense of its rightful and
+pre-eminent power; and, in the singleness of worship which he gave to
+Beauty, Keats is especially the artist, and the true father of the
+latest modern school of poetry."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Endymion; Ode on a Grecian Urn; Lamia; Hyperion;
+To Autumn; Hymn to Apollo; Isabella.
+
+
+REFERENCES: _Keats_ (English Men of Letters), by Sidney Colvin; _Keats_,
+by W. M. Rossetti; Matthew Arnold's Essay on Keats, in Ward's _English
+Poets_; Shairp's _Studies in Poetry_.
+
+
+
+
+The Eighteenth Century.
+
+
+"_The influence of the poetry of the past lasted; new elements were
+added to poetry, and new forms of it took shape. The study of the Greek
+and Latin classics revived, and with it a more artistic poetry. Not only
+correct form, for which Pope sought, but beautiful form was sought
+after. Men like Thomas Gray and William Collins strove to pour into
+their work that simplicity of beauty which the Greek poets and Italians
+like Petrarca had reached as the last result of genius restrained by
+art. . . . Two things had been learned. First, that artistic rules were
+necessary, and, secondly, that natural feeling was necessary in order
+that poetry should have a style fitted to express nobly the emotions and
+thoughts of man. The way was therefore now made ready for a style in
+which the Art should itself be Nature, and it sprang at once into being
+in the work of the poets of this time. The style of Gray is polished to
+the finest point, and yet it is instinct with natural feeling. Goldsmith
+is natural even to simplicity, and yet his verse is even more accurate
+than Pope's. Cowper's style, in such poems as the 'Lines to my Mother's
+Picture,' arises out of the simplest pathos, and yet it is as pure in
+expression as Greek poetry._"--STOPFORD BROOKE.
+
+"_At last there started up an unfortunate Scotch peasant (Burns),
+rebelling against the world, and in love, with the yearnings, lusts,
+greatness, and irrationality of modern genius. Now and then behind his
+plough, he lighted on genuine verses, verses such as Heine and Alfred de
+Musset have written in our own days. In those few words, combined after
+a new fashion, there was a revolution._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Eighteenth Century.
+
+=Alexander Pope= (1688-1744). See biographical note, page 155.
+
+=Thomas Parnell= (1679-1718). "The Hermit"; short poems.
+
+=Edward Young= (1684-1765), "Night Thoughts"; "The Last Day";
+"Resignation."
+
+=Allan Ramsay= (1686-1758). "The Gentle Shepherd": "Scots Songs"; "Fables
+and Tales."
+
+=John Gay= (1688-1732). "The Beggar's Opera"; "The Shepherd's Week";
+"Trivia"; "Rural Sports"; fables, and other short poems.
+
+=Matthew Green= (1696-1737). "The Grotto"; "The Spleen."
+
+=John Dyer= (1698-1758). "Grongar Hill"; "The Fleece."
+
+=Robert Blair= (1699-1746). "The Grave."
+
+=James Thomson= (1700-1748). "The Seasons"; "The Castle of Indolence."
+
+=Samuel Johnson= (1709-1784), "The Vanity of Human Wishes"; "London."
+
+=Richard Glover= (1712-1785). "Leonidas"; "Admiral Hosier's Ghost"; "The
+Athenaid."
+
+=William Shenstone= (1714-1763). "The Schoolmistress"; "Pastoral Ballads."
+
+=Thomas Gray= (1716-1771). See biographical note, page 139.
+
+=William Collins= (1721-1759). Odes and other short poems.
+
+=Mark Akenside= (1721-1770). "The Pleasures of the Imagination."
+
+=Oliver Goldsmith= (1728-1774). See biographical note, page 128.
+
+=Thomas Warton= (1728-1790). "The Pleasures of Melancholy"; "The Triumph
+of Isis"; short poems.
+
+=William Cowper= (1731-1800). See biographical note, page 122.
+
+=Charles Churchill= (1731-1764). "The Prophecy of Famine"; "The Rosciad."
+
+=James Beattie= (1735-1803). "The Minstrel."
+
+=Robert Fergusson= (1750-1774). Short Scottish poems.
+
+=Thomas Chatterton= (1752-1770). "Poems of Thomas Rowlie"; short poems.
+
+=George Crabbe= (1754-1832). "Tales of the Hall"; "The Village"; "The
+Parish Register"; "Tales in Verse."
+
+=William Blake= (1757-1827). "Songs of Innocence"; "Songs of Experience";
+"Poetical Sketches."
+
+=Robert Burns= (1759-1796). See biographical note, page 111.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Burns.
+
+
+
+
+THE COTTER'S{1} SATURDAY NIGHT.
+
+INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.{2}
+
+     Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+       Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+     Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+       The short but simple annals of the Poor.{3}--_Gray._
+
+
+     My loved, my honored, much respected friend!
+     No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+     With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
+     My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+     To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,{4}
+     The lowly train{5} in life's sequestered scene;
+     The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+     What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+     Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there I ween.
+
+     November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;{6}
+     The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+     The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
+     The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose;
+     The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,--
+     This night his weekly moil is at an end,--
+     Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+     Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
+     And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.{7}
+
+     At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+     Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+     Th' expectant wee things toddlin', stacher thro'
+     To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
+     His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,
+     His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wine's smile,
+     The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+     Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
+     An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.{8}
+
+     Belyve, the elder bairns{9} come drapping in,
+     At service out, amang the farmers roun';
+     Some ca'{10} the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
+     A cannie errand to a neibor{11} town:
+     Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+     In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+     Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,
+     Or deposit{12} her sair-won penny-fee,{13}
+     To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+     Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,
+     An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:
+     The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;
+     Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;
+     The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years,
+     Anticipation forward points the view.
+     The mother wi' her needle an' her shears,
+     Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+     The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+     Their master's and their mistress's command,
+     The younkers a' are warned to obey;
+     And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand,
+     And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:
+     "And, oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,
+     And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
+     Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+     Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+     They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"{14}
+
+     But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+     Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+     Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor,
+     To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+     The wily mother sees the conscious flame
+     Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;
+     Wi' heart-struck anxious care inquires his name,
+     While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
+     Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake.
+
+     Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;{15}
+     A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye;
+     Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+     The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.{16}
+     The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+     But, blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave;
+     The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+     What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;
+     Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.
+
+     O happy love! where love like this is found!
+     O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
+     I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
+     And sage experience bids me this declare:--
+     If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+     One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+     'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+     In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
+     Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!
+
+     Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
+     A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,
+     That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+     Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+     Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!
+     Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?
+     Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+     Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+     Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!
+
+     But now the supper crowns their simple board,--
+     The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:
+     The sowpe their only hawkie{17} does afford,
+     That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;
+     The dame brings forth in complimental mood,
+     To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell,
+     An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;
+     The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
+     How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.{18}
+
+     The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+     They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+     The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
+     The big ha'-Bible,{19} ance his father's pride;
+     His bonnet{20} rev'rently is laid aside,
+     His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
+     Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+     He wales a portion with judicious care;
+     And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
+
+     They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+     They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+     Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,
+     Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name,
+     Or noble "Elgin" beets{21} the heavenward flame,
+     The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+     Compared with these, Italian trills are tame,
+     The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
+     Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+     The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
+     How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+     Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+     With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+     Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+     Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+     Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+     Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+     Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+     Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,
+     How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+     How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+     Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:
+     How His first followers and servants sped;
+     The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
+     How he, who lone in Patmos banished,
+     Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+     And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
+
+     Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
+     The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
+     Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"{22}
+     That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+     There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+     No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
+     Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+     In such society, yet still more dear;
+     While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+     Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+     In all the pomp of method and of art,
+     When men display to congregations wide
+     Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
+     The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert,
+     The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole{23};
+     But, haply, in some cottage far apart,
+     May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;
+     And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
+
+     Then homeward all take off their several way;
+     The youngling cottagers retire to rest:
+     The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+     And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
+     That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
+     And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
+     Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+     For them and for their little ones provide;
+     But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+     From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+     That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
+     Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
+     "An honest man's the noblest work of God:"{24}
+     And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
+     The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+     What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous load,
+     Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+     Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!
+
+     O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+     For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,
+     Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+     Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+     And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
+     From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+     Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+     A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+     And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.
+
+     O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide
+     That streamed thro' Wallace's{25} undaunted heart,
+     Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+     Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+     (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,
+     His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+     O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+     But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
+     In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem, composed in 1785, is written partly in the Scottish dialect,
+partly in English. The livelier passages are in the poet's vernacular;
+the loftier or more solemn parts in the language of books. This
+distinction was doubtless made because Burns disliked to treat his
+higher themes in a merely colloquial manner, fearing to belittle them by
+so doing. The household described was probably that of the poet's own
+father; it was at least a typical Scotch peasant's household, with which
+no one was more familiar. Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Dr. Currie,
+says: "Although the 'Cotter' in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of
+my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet
+the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of
+us ever went 'At service out amang the neibors roun'.' Instead of our
+depositing our 'sair-won penny-fee' with our parents, my father labored
+hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to
+keep his children at home."
+
+The influence of Gray and Goldsmith is very apparent in more than one
+passage in this poem.
+
+"Robert had frequently remarked to me," said his brother, "that there
+was something particularly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God,' used by a decent, sober head of a family introducing family
+worship. To this sentiment of the author, the world is indebted for 'The
+Cotter's Saturday Night.' The hint of the plan and title of the poem is
+taken from Ferguson's 'Farmer's Ingle.'"
+
+
+1. =Cotter.= "One who inhabits a cot, or cottage, dependent on a
+farm."--_Jamieson._
+
+2. =R. Aiken.= A friend with whom Burns had been brought into contact
+during the Old and New Light Controversy.
+
+3. See Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," eighth stanza.
+
+4. =lays.= Songs; probably from the same root as the German _lied_. The
+word was originally applied to a form of elegiac French poetry, much
+imitated by the English.
+
+5. =train.= A favorite word with the poets at this time. Goldsmith uses it
+no fewer than six times in the "Deserted Village." The original meaning
+is something drawn along; from Lat. _traho_, to draw.
+
+6. =sugh.= Also spelled _sough_. Whistling sound, murmur. Derived from the
+same root as sigh, for which word it is used by Burns in his lines, "On
+the Battle of Sherriffmuir":
+
+     "My heart for fear gae sough for sough
+       To hear the thuds," etc.
+
+7. Compare with Gray's "Elegy," line 3:
+
+     "The ploughman homeward plods his weary way."
+
+8. Toil was perhaps pronounced _tile_, thus properly rhyming with
+_beguile_. Johnson, in "London," says:
+
+     "On all thy hours security shall smile,
+      And bless thine evening walk and morning toil."
+
+9. =bairns.= From A.-S. _bearns_, children.
+
+10. =ca'.= Drive, follow. Probably not from the same root as our common
+word _call_. Kingsley uses it in this sense in the line:
+
+     "Go, Mary, go, and call the cattle home."
+
+11. =neibor.= Neighboring. Milton, in "Comus," uses the expressions: "Some
+neighbor woodman," "some neighbor villager"; and Shakespeare says: "A
+neighbor thicket" ("Love's Labour Lost"), and "neighbor room"
+("Hamlet").
+
+12. =deposit.= Pronounced here _dep´o-zit_.
+
+13. =penny-fee.= Fee, wages, from A.-S. _feoh_, cattle. "Cattle," says
+Bosworth, "was the first kind of property; and, by bartering, this word
+came to signify money in general." So, too, the word _penny_ is from
+A.-S. _penig_, Icelandic _peningr_, cattle. The word _penny_, as in this
+country the word _dollar_, is used indefinitely for _money_.
+
+14. Observe that in quoting the words of the Cotter the poet partially
+drops the Ayrshire dialect and uses a purer English.
+
+15. =ben.= Within. The inner part of the house; from O. E. _binnan_,
+within. Its opposite is _but_, the outside of the house.
+
+16. =kye.= Cattle, from O.-E. _cu_, or _kie_. _Kine_ is derived from the
+same root, and probably _cow_.
+
+17. =hawkie.= This word, says Hales, "denotes, properly, a cow with a
+white face. So, in Northumberland, _bawsand_ was used of an animal with
+a white spot on its forehead, and _crummie_ of a cow with crooked
+horns."
+
+18. =sin' lint was i' the bell.= Since flax was in bloom. That is, the
+cheese was a year old last flax-blossoming time.
+
+19. =ha'-Bible.= The hall Bible--the Bible kept in the best room.
+
+20. =bonnet.= This word in Scotch denotes a man's head-covering. In early
+English it was used in the same sense.
+
+21. =beets.= Feeds,--that is, gives fuel to the flame.
+
+     "It warms me, it charms me,
+        To mention but her name;
+      It heats me, it beets me,
+        And sets me a' on flame."
+                    --_Burns's Epistle to Davie, a brother poet._
+
+The word is probably from A.-S. _betan_, to better, to mend; from which,
+also, we have the words _beat_, to excel, _better_, _best_, etc.
+
+22. Burns refers the reader to Pope's "Windsor Forest" for this
+quotation. He probably had in mind the line in the "Essay on Man":
+
+     "Hope springs eternal in the human breast."
+
+23. =sacerdotal stole.= A long, narrow scarf with fringed ends, and
+richly embroidered, worn by the clergy upon special occasions.
+=Sacerdotal=, from Lat. _sacerdos_, a priest. =Stole=, from Lat. _stola_, a
+long dress worn by Roman women over their tunic and fastened with a
+girdle.
+
+24. Pope's "Essay on Man," Epistle iv, line 247.
+
+25. William Wallace (1270-1305), the Scotch national hero was, like
+Burns, a native of Ayrshire.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =aft=, often.
+     =amaist=, almost.
+     =amang=, among.
+     =ance=, once.
+     =auld=, old.
+     =belyve=, by and by.
+     =blate=, bashful.
+     =blinkin=, gleaming.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =braw=, brave, fine.
+     =cannie=, easy.
+     =carking=, fretting.
+     =certes=, certain.
+     =chows=, chews.
+     =claes=, clothes.
+     =convoy=, accompany.
+     =cracks=, talks.
+     =craws=, crows.
+     =drapping=, dropping.
+     =eydent=, diligent.
+     =fell=, tasty.
+     =flichterin=, fluttering.
+     =frae=, from.
+     =gang=, go.
+     =gars=, makes.
+     =guid=, good.
+     =hae=, have.
+     =haffets=, temples.
+     =hafflins=, half.
+     =halesome=, wholesome.
+     =hallan=, partition wall.
+     =hameward=, homeward.
+     =ingle=, fire.
+     =jauk=, trifle.
+     =kebbuck=, cheese.
+     =kens=, understands.
+     =lathefu'=, shy.
+     =lave=, the rest.
+     =lyart=, gray.
+     =miry=, muddy, dusty.
+     =moil=, labor.
+     =nae=, no.
+     =parritch=, porridge.
+     =pleugh=, plough.
+     =rin=, run.
+     =sair-won=, hard-earned.
+     =sowpe=, milk.
+     =spiers=, inquires.
+     =stacher=, stagger.
+     =strappin'=, strapping, stout.
+     =tentie=, attentively.
+     =towmond=, twelvemonth.
+     =uncos=, unknown things, new.
+     =wales=, chooses.
+     =wee bit=, little.
+     =weel=, well.
+     =wee things=, little folks.
+     =weel-hained=, well-kept.
+     =wiles=, knowledge.
+     =wily=, knowing.
+     =youngling=, youthful.
+     =younkers=, youngsters, children.
+     ='yont=, on the other side of.
+
+
+
+
+TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.
+
+ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786.
+
+
+     Wee, modest, crimson-tippéd flow'r,
+     Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+     For I maun crush amang the stoure
+               Thy slender stem.
+     To spare thee now is past my power,
+               Thou bonnie gem.
+
+     Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
+     The bonnie lark, companion meet!
+     Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
+               Wi' spreckled breast,
+     When upward springing, blythe to greet
+               The purpling east.
+
+     Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
+     Upon thy early humble birth;
+     Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
+               Amid the storm,
+     Scarce reared above the parent earth
+               Thy tender form.
+
+     The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
+     High sheltering woods an' wa's maun shield;
+     But thou, beneath the random bield
+               O' clod or stane,
+     Adorns the histie stibble-field,
+               Unseen, alane.
+
+     There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
+     Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
+     Thou lifts thy unassuming head
+               In humble guise:
+     But now the share uptears thy bed,
+               And low thou lies!
+
+     Such is the fate of artless maid,
+     Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
+     By love's simplicity betrayed,
+               And guileless trust,
+     Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
+               Low i' the dust.
+
+     Such is the fate of simple bard,
+     On life's rough ocean luckless starred!
+     Unskilful he to note the card
+               Of prudent lore,
+     Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
+               And whelm him o'er!
+
+     Such fate to suffering worth is given,
+     Who long with wants and woes has striven,
+     By human pride or cunning driven
+               To misery's brink,
+     Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,
+               He, ruined, sink!
+
+     Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
+     That fate is thine--no distant date;
+     Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
+               Full on thy bloom,
+     Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,
+               Shall be thy doom.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =bield=, protection.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =bonnie=, pretty.
+     =card=, compass.
+     =glinted=, passed quickly.
+     =histie=, barren.
+     =maun=, must.
+     =spreckled=, speckled.
+     =stibble=, stubble.
+     =stoure=, dust.
+     =weet=, wetness.
+     =wrenched=, deprived.
+
+
+
+
+FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
+
+
+     Is there, for honest poverty,
+       That hangs his head, and a' that?{1}
+     The coward slave, we pass him by,
+       We dare be poor for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+           The rank is but the guinea's stamp,{2}
+             The man's the gowd{3} for a' that!
+
+     What though on hamely fare we dine,
+       Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+     Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+       A man's a man for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+           The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+             Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+     Ye see yon birkie,{4} ca'd a lord,
+       Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
+     Though hundreds worship at his word,
+       He's but a coof{5} for a' that;
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             His riband, star, and a' that;
+           The man of independent mind,
+             He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+     A prince can mak a belted knight,
+       A marquis, duke, and a' that;
+     But an honest man's aboon{6} his might,
+       Guid faith, he maunna fa'{7} that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their dignities, and a' that;
+           The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+             Are higher ranks than a' that!
+
+     Then let us pray that come it may--
+       As come it will for a' that--
+     That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+       May bear the gree,{8} and a' that.
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             It's coming yet, for a' that,
+           That man to man, the warld o'er,
+             Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. Is there anything in honest poverty to cause one to hang his head,
+etc.?
+
+2. Explain lines 7 and 8 fully.
+
+3. =gowd=, gold.
+
+4. =birkie=, fellow.
+
+5. =coof=, fool.
+
+6. =aboon his might=, above his power.
+
+7. =maunna fa'=, may not get.
+
+8. =gree=, palm, supremacy.
+
+"Burns was not only the poet of love, but also of the new excitement
+about man. Himself poor, he sang the poor. Neither poverty nor low birth
+made a man the worse--the man was 'a man for a' that.'"--_Stopford
+Brooke._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT BURNS was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His childhood and
+youth were spent in poverty on his father's farm, where he learned to
+plough, reap, mow, and thresh in the barn, but where opportunities for
+education were such only as Scottish peasants know. In 1784 his father
+died, and he attempted to manage a farm of his own at Mossgiel. The
+experiment proving to be a failure, he resolved to leave Scotland, and
+secured an appointment to a clerkship in Jamaica. Just before the time
+set for his departure, he learned of the success of a volume of his
+poems which had just been published at Kilmarnock; and, instead of
+departing for the West Indies, he made a visit to Edinburgh. He was
+welcomed by the best society, and received at once into the literary
+circles of the Scottish capital. "His name and fame flashed like
+sunshine over the land: the shepherd on the hill, the maiden at her
+wheel, learned his songs by heart, and the first scholars of Scotland
+courted his acquaintance." A second edition of his poems was published
+in 1787, and with the proceeds--about $2500--he took a farm at
+Ellisland, in Nithsdale. But his habits were such that he made sad
+failure a second time in the experiment of farming; and, after two years
+of mismanagement, to eke out his scanty income he accepted an
+appointment as exciseman. In 1791, "unfortunately both for his health
+and for his reputation," he removed to Dumfries, where, five years
+later, he died.
+
+"While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through
+the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous
+pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa Fountain will also
+arrest our eye; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning
+workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full gushing
+current, into the light of day; and often will the traveller turn aside
+to drink of its clear waters, and muse among its rocks and
+pines."--_Carlyle._
+
+"Burns is not the poet's poet, which Shelley no doubt meant to be, or
+the philosopher's poet, which Wordsworth, in spite of himself, is. He is
+the poet of homely human nature, not half so homely or prosaic as it
+seems. His genius, in a manner all its own, associates itself with the
+fortunes, experiences, memorable moments, of human beings whose
+humanity is their sole patrimony; to whom 'liberty and whatever, like
+liberty, has the power
+
+     To raise a man above the brute,
+     And mak him ken himsel,'
+
+is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and
+never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned
+by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the
+great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human
+beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy
+relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy
+out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength
+of which it cannot but grow strong."--_John Service._
+
+"Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive
+power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of
+personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as
+healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,--no
+more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor,
+are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it."--_Hazlitt._
+
+     "His is that language of the heart
+        In which the answering heart would speak,
+      Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,
+        Or the smile light the cheek.
+
+     "And his that music to whose tone
+        The common pulse of man keeps time,
+      In cot or castle's mirth or moan,
+        In cold or sunny clime."
+                                         --_Fitz-Greene Halleck._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To
+a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland
+Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Carlyle's Essay on _Robert Burns_; _Burns_ (English Men of
+Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+William Cowper.
+
+
+
+
+BOADICEA.
+
+
+     When the British warrior queen,
+       Bleeding from the Roman rods,
+     Sought, with an indignant mien,
+       Counsel from her country's gods,
+
+     Sage beneath the spreading oak
+       Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
+     Every burning word he spoke
+       Full of rage, and full of grief.
+
+     "Princess! if our aged eyes
+       Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
+     'Tis because resentment ties
+       All the terrors of our tongues.
+
+     "Rome shall perish--write that word
+       In the blood that she has spilt;
+     Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd,
+       Deep in ruin as in guilt.
+
+     "Rome, for empire far renown'd,
+       Tramples on a thousand states;
+     Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,--
+       Hark, the Gaul is at her gates!
+
+     "Other Romans shall arise,
+       Heedless of a soldier's name;
+     Sounds, not arms,{1} shall win the prize;
+       Harmony the path to fame.
+
+     "Then the progeny that springs
+       From the forests of our land,
+     Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,{2}
+       Shall a wider world command.
+
+     "Regions Cæsar never knew
+       Thy posterity shall sway;
+     Where his eagles never flew
+       None invincible as they."{3}
+
+     Such the bard's prophetic words,
+       Pregnant with celestial fire,
+     Bending as he swept the chords
+       Of his sweet but awful lyre.
+
+     She, with all the monarch's pride,
+       Felt them in her bosom glow,
+     Rush'd to battle, fought and died;
+       Dying, hurled them{4} at the foe.
+
+     Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
+       Heaven awards the vengeance due;
+     Empire is on us bestowed,
+       Shame and ruin wait for you.{5}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, a powerful and warlike tribe of
+Britons, about the middle of the first century. Upon the death of her
+husband, Prasutagus, her kingdom was seized by the Romans, and she
+herself, for some real or imaginary offence, was publicly scourged.
+During the absence of the Roman governor from that part of England,
+Boadicea raised an immense army, burned the city of London, and put
+70,000 Romans to the sword. She afterwards, with 230,000 troops, met the
+Roman army, under Suetonius, in the field, and although the Romans could
+muster only 10,000 soldiers, the British army was defeated, and the
+queen, in despair, ended her own life by taking poison.
+
+In this poem, Cowper represents the queen as, soon after her shameful
+treatment by the Romans, seeking counsel from one of the native priests.
+The Druid prophesies the destruction of Rome and the future greatness of
+Britain.
+
+1. =Sounds, not arms.= Does the poet allude to the cultivation of oratory
+and poetry among the Romans and the neglect of military affairs?
+
+2. =Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings.= What do these expressions mean?
+To what do they refer?
+
+3. Explain the prophecy included in this stanza.
+
+4. =hurled them.= Hurled what?
+
+5. This stanza, evidently a part of the imprecation which Boadicea
+"hurled" at her enemies, ought to be enclosed with quotation marks, but
+in most versions of the poem it appears without them.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE.
+
+
+     Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed
+     With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
+     Those lips are thine--thy own sweet smile I see,
+     The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
+     Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
+     "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
+     The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
+     (Blessed be the art that can immortalize,
+     The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
+     To quench it) here shines on me still the same.
+       Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
+     O welcome guest, though unexpected here!
+     Who bidst me honor with an artless song,
+     Affectionate, a mother lost so long,
+     I will obey, not willingly alone,
+     But gladly, as the precept were her own:
+     And, while that face renews my filial grief,
+     Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
+     Shall steep{1} me in Elysian reverie,{2}
+     A momentary dream that thou art she.
+       My mother! when I learnt{3} that thou wast dead,
+     Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?
+     Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
+     Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?
+     Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss;
+     Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
+     Ah! that maternal smile! It answers--Yes.
+     I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,
+     I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
+     And, turning from my nursery window, drew
+     A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!
+     But was it such?--It was.--Where thou art gone
+     Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
+     May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,
+     The parting word shall pass my lips no more!
+     The maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,{4}
+     Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
+     What ardently I wished I long believed,
+     And, disappointed still, was still deceived.
+     By expectation every day beguiled,
+     Dupe of _to-morrow_ even from a child.
+     Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,
+     Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
+     I learned at last submission to my lot;
+     But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.
+       Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,
+     Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;
+     And where the gardener Robin, day by day,
+     Drew me to school along the public way,
+     Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped
+     In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,
+     'Tis now become a history little known,
+     That once we called the pastoral house our own.
+     Short-lived possession! but the record fair
+     That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,
+     Still outlives many a storm that has effaced
+     A thousand other themes less deeply traced.{5}
+     Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,
+     That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;
+     Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
+     The biscuit, or confectionary plum;{6}
+     The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed
+     By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;
+     All this, and more endearing still than all,
+     Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
+     Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes
+     That humor interposed too often makes;{7}
+     All this still legible in memory's page,
+     And still to be so to my latest age,
+     Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
+     Such honors to thee as my numbers may;
+     Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
+     Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
+       Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,
+     When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,
+     The violet, the pink, and jessamine,
+     I pricked them into paper with a pin
+     (And thou wast happier than myself the while,
+     Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile),
+     Could those few pleasant days again appear,
+     Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?
+     I would not trust my heart--the dear delight
+     Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.--
+     But no--what here we call our life is such
+     So little to be loved, and thou so much,
+     That I should ill requite thee to constrain
+     Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
+       Thou, as a gallant bark{8} from Albion's coast
+     (The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)
+     Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
+     Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,
+     There sits quiescent on the floods that show
+     Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
+     While airs impregnated with incense play
+     Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;
+     So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,
+     "Where tempests never beat nor billows roar."{9}
+     And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide
+     Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
+     But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
+     Always from port withheld, always distressed--
+     Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost,
+     Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,
+     And day by day some current's thwarting force,
+     Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
+     Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he!
+     That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
+     My boast is not, that I deduce my birth
+     From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;
+     But higher far my proud pretensions rise--
+     The son of parents passed into the skies!
+     And now, farewell--Time unrevoked has run
+     His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.
+     By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
+     I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;
+     To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
+     Without the sin of violating thine:
+     And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,
+     And I can view this mimic show of thee,{10}
+     Time has but half succeeded in his theft--
+     Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This, one of the most exquisite poems in the language, was written by
+Cowper in "the last glimmering of the evening light," before his mind
+was wholly overwhelmed by the final attack of insanity. "Every line is
+instinct with a profound and chastened feeling, to which it would be
+difficult to find a parallel. There is not a phrase, not a word, which
+jars upon the most susceptible ear, not a tinge of exaggeration, not a
+touch that is excessive. The fact that he who gave forth these supreme
+utterances of filial love was old himself when he did it, brings into
+the relationship a strange, tender equality which is marvellously
+touching."
+
+1. =steep.= Imbue. From Ger. _stippen_. From the same root as _dip_, with
+the letter _s_ prefixed.
+
+2. =Elysian reverie.= Heavenly meditation. See note on Elysium, page 79.
+
+3. =when I learnt.= Cowper was only six years old when his mother died.
+
+4. =concern.= Distress, anxiety.
+
+5. Nearly fifty years after his mother's death, Cowper wrote: "I can
+truly say that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal veracity
+say a day) in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her
+tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she had for showing it
+was so short."
+
+6. =plum.= Perhaps the gravest fault in this poem is the frequent
+intermixture, as in these two lines, of trivial thoughts and
+circumstances with those of a more noble character.
+
+7. Explain the metaphor which the poet attempts to carry through these
+three lines. =Brakes= = _breaks_, interruptions. What is the meaning of
+_humor_?
+
+8. =as a gallant bark.= Observe the beauty of the simile in these twelve
+lines, also of the simile which follows.
+
+9. Probably misquoted from "The Dispensary," by Samuel Garth
+(1670-1719):
+
+     "To die is landing on some silent shore,
+     Where billows never break nor tempests roar."
+
+10. =this mimic show.= Explain the meaning of this expression.
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON A HARE.
+
+
+     Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
+       Nor swifter greyhound follow,
+     Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
+       Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;
+
+     Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
+       Who, nursed with tender care,
+     And to domestic bounds confined,
+       Was still a wild Jack hare.
+
+     Though duly from my hand he took
+       His pittance every night,
+     He did it with a jealous look,
+       And, when he could, would bite.
+
+     His diet was of wheaten bread,
+       And milk, and oats, and straw;
+     Thistles, or lettuces instead,
+       With sand to scour his maw.
+
+     On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
+       On pippins' russet peel,
+     And, when his juicy salads failed,
+       Sliced carrot pleased him well.
+
+     A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
+       Whereon he loved to bound,
+     To skip and gambol like a fawn,
+       And swing his rump around.
+
+     His frisking was at evening hours,
+       For then he lost his fear,
+     But most before approaching showers,
+       Or when a storm drew near.
+
+     Eight years and five round-rolling moons
+       He thus saw steal away,
+     Dozing out all his idle noons,
+       And every night at play.
+
+     I kept him for his humor's sake,
+       For he would oft beguile
+     My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
+       And force me to a smile.
+
+     But now beneath this walnut shade
+       He finds his long last home,
+     And waits, in snug concealment laid,
+       Till gentler Puss shall come.
+
+     He, still more agèd, feels the shocks
+       From which no care can save,
+     And, partner once of Tiney's box,
+       Must soon partake his grave.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM COWPER was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His
+father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the
+family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school
+and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the
+profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at
+Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a
+solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle,
+Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords.
+The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy
+love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for
+more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity,
+which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his
+fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume
+was published in 1782, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces,
+the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement," and "Table Talk." His
+second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium,"
+and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through
+the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of
+Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his
+death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as
+an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast.
+
+Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the
+mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial
+poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that
+he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a
+depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted
+him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of
+the Royal George.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Southey's _Life of William Cowper_; _Cowper_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Macaulay's Essay
+on _Moore's Life of Byron_; _Life of Cowper_, in the "Globe Edition" of
+his works.
+
+
+
+
+Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+
+
+
+THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."
+
+
+       Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
+     Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
+     There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,
+     The mingling notes came soften'd from below:
+     The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+     The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
+     The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
+     The playful children just let loose from school,
+     The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
+     And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind--
+     These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+     And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
+     But now the sounds of population fail,
+     No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
+     No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
+     For all the bloomy flush of life is fled--
+     All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,
+     That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
+     She, wretched matron--forc'd in age, for bread,
+     To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
+     To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,
+     To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn--
+     She only left of all the harmless train,
+     The sad historian of the pensive plain!
+
+       Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
+     And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;
+     There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
+     The village preacher's{1} modest mansion rose.
+     A man he was to all the country dear,
+     And passing{2} rich with forty pounds{3} a year;
+     Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
+     Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;
+     Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,
+     By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
+     Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
+     More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
+     His house was known to all the vagrant train;
+     He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain:
+     The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
+     Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
+     The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
+     Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
+     The broken soldier,{4} kindly bade to stay,
+     Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,
+     Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done,
+     Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
+     Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
+     And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
+     Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
+     His pity gave ere charity began.
+       Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
+     And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;
+     But in his duty prompt at every call,
+     He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all;
+     And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
+     To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+     He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+     Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
+       Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
+     And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
+     The reverend champion stood. At his control
+     Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
+     Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
+     And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
+       At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
+     His looks adorned the venerable place:
+     Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
+     And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
+     The service past, around the pious man,
+     With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
+     Even children followed with endearing wile,
+     And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile.
+     His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed;
+     Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
+     To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
+     But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
+     As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
+     Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
+     Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
+     Eternal sunshine settles on its head.{5}
+
+       Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
+     With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
+     There in his noisy mansion,{6} skilled to rule,
+     The village master taught his little school.
+     A man severe he was, and stern to view;
+     I knew him well, and every truant knew;
+     Well had the boding{7} tremblers learned to trace
+     The day's disasters in his morning face;
+     Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
+     At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
+     Full well the busy whisper circling round
+     Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
+     Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
+     The love he bore to learning was in fault;
+     The village{8} all declared how much he knew;
+     'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
+     Lands he could measure, terms and tides{9} presage,
+     And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:{10}
+     In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;
+     For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
+     While words of learned length and thundering sound
+     Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
+     And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
+     That one small head could carry all he knew.
+       But past is all his fame. The very spot
+     Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =The village preacher.=--"This picture of the village pastor," says
+Irving, "which was taken in part from the character of his father,
+embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the
+natures of the father and son seem to have been identical. . . . To us
+the whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as
+if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble
+himself at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to
+practise."
+
+2. =passing rich.= Exceedingly rich. The word is a common one among the
+poets. "Is she not passing fair?" (Shakespeare, "Two Gentlemen of
+Verona," Act iv, sc. 4); "How passing sweet is solitude" (Cowper,
+"Retirement").
+
+3. =forty pounds.= In his dedication of "The Traveller," Goldsmith refers
+to his brother Henry as "a man who, despising fame and fortune, has
+retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of forty pounds
+a year."
+
+4. =broken soldier.= See "The Soldier's Dream," Campbell.
+
+     "And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay!"
+
+5. The simile included in these four lines, says Lord Lytton, is
+translated almost literally from a poem by the Abbé de Chaulieu, who
+died in 1720. "Every one must own," adds he, "that, in copying,
+Goldsmith wonderfully improved the original."
+
+6. =The village master.=--The portrait here drawn of the village
+schoolmaster is from Goldsmith's own teacher, Thomas Byrne, with whom he
+was placed when six years old. "Byrne had been educated for a
+pedagogue," says Irving, "but had enlisted in the army, served abroad
+during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen to the rank of
+quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no
+longer exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled the
+urchin populace of Lissoy.
+
+"There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given
+in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond
+wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a
+world of campaigning stories of which he was generally the hero, and
+which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to
+have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a
+powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an
+unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.
+
+"Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious.
+He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland,
+all which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition
+Goldsmith soon became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore."
+
+=noisy mansion.= The old-time school-room was a noisy place, the pupils
+studying their lessons aloud, and but little care being taken to secure
+quietness at any time.
+
+7. =boding.= Foreboding; seeing that which is about to happen. From A.-S.
+_bodian_, to announce, to foretell.
+
+8. =village.= Villagers.
+
+9. =terms and tides.= Times and seasons. =presage.= Foreknow. From Lat.
+_pre_, before, and _sagio_, to perceive.
+
+10. =gauge.= Measure liquids. The humor in this and in some other
+expressions in these verses is too apparent to require comment.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH was born at Pallas, county of Longford, Ireland, on the
+10th of November, 1728. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and
+afterwards studied medicine at Edinburgh and at Leyden. After travelling
+on foot through portions of Western Europe, he made his way to London,
+where he was in turn assistant to a chemist, usher in a school at
+Peckham, and literary hack for one of the leading monthly publications.
+He afterwards contributed many articles, both in prose and poetry, to
+the leading periodicals of the time. He wrote "The Traveller" in 1764,
+and "The Deserted Village" and _The Vicar of Wakefield_ in 1770. He died
+in his chambers in Brick Court, London, April 4, 1774. For a full
+account of his life, read Macaulay's Essay on Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+"The naturalness and ease of Goldsmith's poetry," says Edward Dowden,
+"are those of an accomplished craftsman. His verse, which flows towards
+the close of the period with such a gentle yet steady advance, is not
+less elaborated than that of Pope; and Goldsmith conceived his verse
+more in paragraphs than in couplets. His artless words were, each one,
+delicately chosen; his simple constructions were studiously sought." And
+Sir Walter Scott said of him: "It would be difficult to point out one
+among the English poets less likely to be excelled in his own style.
+Possessing much of Pope's versification without the monotonous structure
+of his lines; rising sometimes to the swell and fulness of Dryden,
+without his inflections; delicate and masterly in his descriptions;
+graceful in one of the greatest graces of poetry, its transitions; alike
+successful in his sportive or grave, his playful or melancholy mood; he
+may long bid defiance to the numerous competitors whom the friendship or
+flattery of the present age is so hastily arraying against him."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Traveller; the rest of The Deserted Village;
+Retaliation.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Irving's _Life of Goldsmith_; Forster's _Life and Times of
+Oliver Goldsmith_; Macaulay's Essay on _Goldsmith_; Thackeray's _English
+Humorists of the Eighteenth Century_; De Quincey's _Eighteenth Century_;
+Hazlitt's _English Poets_; _Goldsmith_ (English Men of Letters), by
+William Black.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Gray.
+
+
+
+
+THE BARD.
+
+
+I. 1.
+
+       "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+         Confusion on thy banners wait;
+       Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,{1}
+         They mock the air with idle state.{2}
+       Helm, nor hauberk's{3} twisted mail,
+       Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+       To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
+       From Cambria's{4} curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+     Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+       Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
+     As down the steep of Snowdon's{5} shaggy side
+       He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+     Stout Gloster{6} stood aghast in speechless trance:
+     "To arms!" cried Mortimer,{7} and couched his quivering lance.
+
+
+I. 2.
+
+       On a rock{8} whose haughty brow
+     Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,
+       Robed in the sable garb of woe,
+     With haggard eyes the poet stood,
+     (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+     Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air{9})
+     And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
+     Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.{10}
+       "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
+     Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+     O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
+       Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+     Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+     To high-born Hoel's{11} harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+
+I. 3.
+
+       "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+       That hushed the stormy main:{12}
+     Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
+       Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+       Modred, whose magic song
+     Made huge Plinlimmon{13} bow his cloud-topt head.
+       On dreary Arvon's shore{14} they lie,
+     Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:
+     Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;
+       The famished eagle{15} screams, and passes by.
+     Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+       Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+     Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,{16}
+       Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
+     No more I weep. They do not sleep.
+       On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
+     I see them sit,{17} they linger yet,
+       Avengers of their native land:
+     With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+     And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+
+II. 1.
+
+       "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,{18}
+     The winding sheet of Edward's race.
+       Give ample room, and verge enough
+     The characters of hell to trace.
+     Mark the year, and mark the night,
+     When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+     The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,
+     Shrieks of an agonizing king!{19}
+       She-wolf of France,{20} with unrelenting fangs,
+     That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+       From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+     The scourge of heaven.{21} What terrors round him wait!
+     Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
+     And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+
+II. 2.
+
+       "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+     Low on his funeral couch he lies!{22}
+       No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+     A tear to grace his obsequies.
+       Is the sable warrior{23} fled?
+     Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+     The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,
+     Gone to salute the rising morn.
+     Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,{24}
+       While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+     In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
+       Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+     Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
+     That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+
+II. 3.
+
+       "Fill high the sparkling bowl,
+     The rich repast prepare;
+       Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+     Close by the regal chair
+       Fell Thirst and Famine scowl{25}
+       A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+     Heard ye the din of battle{26} bray,
+       Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+       Long years of havoc urge their destined course,
+     And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+       Ye towers of Julius,{27} London's lasting shame,
+     With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+       Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+     And spare the meek usurper's{28} holy head.
+     Above, below, the rose of snow,
+       Twined with her blushing foe,{29} we spread:
+     The bristled boar{30} in infant-gore
+       Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+     Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+     Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+
+III. 1.
+
+       "Edward,{31} lo! to sudden fate
+     (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+       Half of thy heart{32} we consecrate.
+     (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+     Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
+     Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
+     In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
+     They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+     But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+       Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+     Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!{33}
+       Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+     No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+     All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+
+III. 2.
+
+       "Girt with many a baron bold
+     Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+       And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
+     In bearded majesty, appear.
+     In the midst a form divine!{34}
+     Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
+     Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,{35}
+     Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.
+     What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
+       What strains of vocal transport round her play.
+     Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,{36} hear;
+       They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+     Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
+     Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
+
+
+III. 3.
+
+     "The verse adorn again
+       Fierce War, and faithful Love,{37}
+     And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
+       In buskined measures{38} move
+     Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+     With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+       A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
+     Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+     And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+       That lost in long futurity expire.
+     Fond,{39} impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
+       Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
+     To-morrow he repairs{40} the golden flood,
+       And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+     Enough for me; with joy I see
+       The different doom our fates assign.
+     Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+       To triumph, and to die, are mine."
+     He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+     Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a
+tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the
+conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands
+to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I.,
+as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are
+suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the
+summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human,
+reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had
+brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race,
+and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never
+extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men
+shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal
+strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure
+tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the
+mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."
+
+The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had
+any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer
+Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the
+Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence
+had not been diminished.
+
+This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after
+Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniform
+stanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three
+stanzas. The first of these parts is called the _Strophe_, or Turn; the
+second, the _Antistrophe_, or Counter-turn; the third, the _Epode_, or
+After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the
+ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient
+Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side
+of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed
+movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned
+to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the
+relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which
+enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown
+among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English
+language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our
+odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and
+divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such
+are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and
+Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are
+odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype
+and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so
+thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be
+given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English
+composition.
+
+1. =crimson wing.= Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+2. Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:
+
+     "Mocking the air with colors idly spread."
+
+3. =hauberk.= From A.-S. _heals_, the neck, and _beorgan_, to protect.
+"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven,
+forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to
+every motion."--_Gray._
+
+4. =Cambria.= Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber,
+the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions
+among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England),
+which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania;
+and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.
+
+5. =Snowdon.= "Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous
+tract which the Welsh themselves call _Cragium-eryri_. It included all
+the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the
+river Conway."--_Gray._ It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of
+Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.
+
+=shaggy.= See "Lycidas," 54:
+
+     "Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."
+
+6. =Gloster.= "Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and
+Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."--_Gray._
+
+7. =Mortimer.= Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of
+King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the
+Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.
+
+8. =rock.= One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the
+extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the
+Conway River.
+
+9. "The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael,
+representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two
+of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other
+in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."--_Gray._
+
+10. Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+11. =Hoel.= A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still
+extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards.
+The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers
+to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of
+Taliessin--the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony."
+It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a
+bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war
+with King Edward. (See note 7, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of
+mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?
+
+12. =hushed the stormy main.= Shakespeare says:
+
+         "The rude sea grew civil at her song,
+     And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
+     To hear the sea-maid's music."
+                      --_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+13. =Plinlimmon.= A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is
+probably a corruption of _Pum-lumon_, "the fire-beacons," so-called
+because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the
+group.
+
+14. =Arvon's shore.= Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in
+Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland,
+opposite the island of Anglesey.
+
+15. =eagle.= "Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build
+their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some
+think) were named by the Welsh, _Craigian-eryri_, or the crags of the
+eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called
+'the Eagle's Nest.'"--_Gray._
+
+16. =Dear as the ruddy drops.= Shakespeare has it:
+
+     "As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
+      That visit my sad heart."
+                                 --_Julius Cæsar_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+17. =I see them sit.= See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:
+
+                "On the steep
+     Where your old bards, the Druids lie."
+
+=griesly.= Grisly. From the A.-S. _grisli_, dreadful.
+
+18. =Weave the warp=, etc. As the _Fates_ were represented by the ancient
+Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so the _Norns_ in the Norse
+mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in
+battle.
+
+     "Glittering lances are the loom,
+        Where the dusky warp we strain,--
+      Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
+        Shoot the trembling cords along;
+      Swords that once a monarch bore,
+        Keep the tissue close and strong."
+                       --_The Fatal Sisters_, translated by Gray,
+                                                  from the Norse.
+
+19. "Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."--_Gray._
+The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327.
+Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley,
+about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before
+the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its
+founders.
+
+20. =She-wolf of France.= Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II.
+Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:
+
+     "She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."
+                                   --_3 Henry VI._, Act i, sc. 4.
+
+21. Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge
+to France.
+
+22. "Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and
+even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his
+mistress."--_Gray._
+
+23. =sable warrior.= "Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
+father."--_Gray._
+
+24. The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is
+figured in this and the following lines.
+
+25. =Thirst and Famine scowl.= When Richard II. died in prison, his body
+was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet
+rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But
+the older writers assert that he was starved to death.
+
+26. =din of battle.= "Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."--_Gray._
+
+=bray.= From Gr. _bracho_, to clash.
+
+27. =towers of Julius.= "The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of
+London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar."--_Gray._
+
+28. =meek usurper.= "Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line
+of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."--_Gray._ The
+references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen
+Margaret, and his father, Henry V.
+
+29. =The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.= The reference is to
+the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the
+Roses.
+
+30. =bristled boar.= Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver
+boar. So Shakespeare:
+
+     "In the sty of the most deadly boar."
+                                 --_Richard III._, Act iv, sc. 5.
+
+     "The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar
+      That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,
+      Swills your warm blood like wash."
+                                          --_Ibid._ Act v, sc. 2.
+
+31. The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again
+addresses the king.
+
+32. =Half of thy heart.= "Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the
+conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her
+lord is well known."--_Gray._
+
+Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as
+
+     "Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,
+        Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,
+      Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,
+        Sweet as new buds in spring."
+
+33. The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were
+ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal
+grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother
+was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied
+that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which
+seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."--_Gray._
+
+34. =a form divine.= Elizabeth.
+
+35. =awe-commanding face.= "Speed, relating an audience given by Queen
+Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she,
+lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately
+port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie
+cheekes.'"--_Gray._
+
+36. Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth
+century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his
+countrymen.
+
+37. See "Faerie Queene," 1:
+
+     "Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."
+
+38. =buskined measures.= The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare.
+So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The
+buskin was the Greek _cothurnus_, a boot with high heels, designed to
+add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.
+
+39. =Fond.= Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so
+used by the older poets.
+
+40. =he repairs.= So Milton:
+
+     "Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
+      And yet anon repairs his drooping head."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+THOMAS GRAY was born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through
+the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that
+famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735
+entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University
+without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple.
+Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour
+through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in
+Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself
+possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and
+devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and
+gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first
+of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of
+Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country
+Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written
+and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of
+Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber;
+but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern
+History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was
+never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of
+fifty-four.
+
+"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales,
+"and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not
+only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps too fastidious, was pure and
+thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were
+of the truest and sincerest. . . . His poems are works of refinement
+rather than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine
+sentiment. They are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of
+their author's reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with
+difficulty escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a
+genuine poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and
+truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed
+and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."
+
+Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could
+not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true
+in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost
+alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was
+'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.'
+Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of
+poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray
+may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he
+aimed."
+
+Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only
+poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."
+
+Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea,
+scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the
+best sense, one of the classics of English literature."
+
+And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most
+finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which
+poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the
+comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since
+Milton."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a
+Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of English Poets_; _Gray_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt's _Lectures on the English Poets_;
+Roscoe's _Essays_.
+
+
+
+
+Alexander Pope.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "ESSAY ON CRITICISM."
+
+
+     Some to Conceit{1} alone their taste confine,
+     And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;
+     Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;{2}
+     One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.{3}
+     Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
+     The naked nature and the living grace,
+     With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,
+     And hide with ornaments their want of art.
+     True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;
+     What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;{4}
+     Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
+     That gives us back the image of our mind.
+     As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
+     So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
+     For works may have more wit than does 'em good,
+     As bodies perish through excess of blood.
+       Others for Language all their care express,
+     And value books, as women men,{5} for dress:
+     Their praise is still,--the style is excellent;
+     The sense, they humbly take upon content.{6}
+     Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
+     Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:
+     False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
+     In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;
+     The face of nature we no more survey,
+     All glares alike, without distinction gay:
+     But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
+     Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
+     It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
+     Expression is the dress of thought, and still
+     Appears more decent, as more suitable;
+     A vile conceit in pompous words express'd
+     Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:
+     For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,{7}
+     As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.
+     Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
+     Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;
+     Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,
+     Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,
+     Unlucky, as Fungoso{8} in the play,
+     These sparks{9} with awkward vanity display
+     What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
+     And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
+     As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.
+     In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;
+     Alike fantastic, if too new or old:
+     Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
+     Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
+       But most by numbers judge a poet's song,
+     And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:
+     In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,
+     Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;
+     Who haunt Parnassus{10} but to please their ear,
+     Not mend{11} their minds, as some to church repair,
+     Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
+     These equal syllables alone require,
+     Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;{12}
+     While expletives their feeble aid do join;
+     And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
+     While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
+     With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
+     Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"
+     In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":{13}
+     If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"
+     The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":
+     Then, at the last and only couplet fraught
+     With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
+     A needless Alexandrine ends the song,{14}
+     That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.{15}
+     Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
+     What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
+     And praise the easy vigor of a line,
+     Where Denham's strength and Waller's{16} sweetness join.
+     True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
+     As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
+     'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
+     The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
+     Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
+     And the smooth stream in smoother numbers{17} flows;
+     But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
+     The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:
+     When Ajax{18} strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
+     The line too labors, and the words move slow:
+     Not so, when swift Camilla{19} scours the plain,
+     Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
+     Hear how Timotheus'{20} vary'd lays surprise,
+     And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
+     While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove{21}
+     Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
+     Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
+     Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
+     Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
+     And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!
+     The power of music all our hearts allow,
+     And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
+       Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,
+     Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
+     At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,
+     That always shows great pride, or little sense:
+     Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,
+     Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
+     Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;
+     For fools admire, but men of sense approve:
+     As things seem large which we through mists descry;
+     Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
+       Some foreign writers, some our own despise;
+     The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
+     Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd
+     To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.
+     Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
+     And force that sun but on a part to shine,
+     Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,
+     But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
+     Which from the first has shone on ages past,
+     Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
+     Tho' each may feel increases and decays,
+     And see now clearer and now darker days.
+     Regard not, then, if wit be old or new,
+     But blame the false, and value still the true.
+       Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
+     But catch the spreading notion of the Town;
+     They reason and conclude by precedent,
+     And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
+     Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then
+     Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
+     Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
+     That in proud dulness joins with Quality.{22}
+     A constant critic at the great man's board,
+     To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.
+     What woful stuff this madrigal would be,
+     In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?
+     But let a Lord once own the happy lines,
+     How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
+     Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,
+     And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724
+lines, and is written in heroic couplets--that style of poetic
+composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound
+critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in
+a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of
+the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by
+Boileau's "Art Poétique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica,"
+and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the
+classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of
+independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but
+having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to
+mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by
+no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this
+poem."
+
+1. =Conceit.= Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty;
+it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."--_Pope._
+
+2. =fit.= Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise
+Lost," V, 7).
+
+3. =wit.= This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to
+indicate a variety of ideas,--such as thought, knowledge, imagination,
+expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer
+than twelve couplets rhyming to it.
+
+4. "It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the
+maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed
+them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that
+these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate
+as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their
+truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so
+well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best
+critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever
+trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended
+upon how to say it."--_Pattison._
+
+5. =as women men.= "As women value men," or "as women by men are
+valued"--which?
+
+6. =humbly take upon content.= Are satisfied to take in faith.
+
+7. =sort.= Agree.
+
+8. =Fungoso.= A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his
+Humour."
+
+9. =sparks.= Fops; vain, showy men.
+
+10. =Parnassus.= A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the
+Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.
+
+11. =mend.= Improve, make better, amend.
+
+          "Mend your speech a little
+      Lest it may mar your fortunes."
+
+--_Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i, sc. i.
+
+12. "The gaping of the vowels in this line, the expletive _do_ in the
+next, and the ten monosyllables in that which follows, give such a
+beauty to this passage as would have been very much admired in an
+ancient poet."--_Addison._
+
+13. Pope himself is not disinclined to make use of these rhymes. See
+"Essay on Man," 271.
+
+     "Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
+      Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees."
+
+14. Referring to the Spenserian stanza which is composed of nine lines,
+eight of which are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter or
+Alexandrine. The name Alexandrine is said to have been derived from an
+old French poem on Alexander the Great, written about the twelfth or
+thirteenth century, and composed entirely of hexameter verses. See note
+on the versification of the "Faerie Queene," page 234.
+
+15. Observe the skill with which, both in this line and in several which
+precede and follow, the poet has made "the sound to seem an echo to the
+sense."
+
+16. Waller had been regarded as the greatest poet of the seventeenth
+century (see page 205), and Denham, in the time of Pope, was more
+esteemed than Milton or Spenser. Dryden called Denham
+
+                         "That limping old bard
+     Whose fame on 'The Sophy' and 'Cooper's Hill' stands."
+
+17. =numbers.= Poetical metre.
+
+     "As yet a child nor yet a fool to fame,
+      I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came."
+                              --_Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot._
+
+18. =Ajax.= "The beautiful distich upon Ajax puts me in mind of a
+description in Homer's 'Odyssey,' which none of the critics have taken
+notice of. It is where Sisyphus is represented lifting his stone up the
+hill which is no sooner carried to the top of it, but it immediately
+tumbles to the bottom. This double motion of the stone is admirably
+described in the numbers of these verses; as in the four first it is
+heaved up by several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places,
+and at last trundles down in a continual line of dactyls."--_Addison._
+
+19. =Camilla.= The virgin queen of the Volsci. She aided Turnus against
+Æneas, and was famed for her fleetness of foot.
+
+20. =Timotheus.= See notes on "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden.
+
+21. =son of Libyan Jove.= Alexander. See note 5, page 166.
+
+22. =Quality.= Persons of high rank.
+
+
+
+
+ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+MDCCVIII.
+
+
+I.
+
+     Descend, ye Nine!{1} descend and sing;
+     The breathing instruments inspire,
+     Wake into voice each silent string,
+     And sweep the sounding lyre!
+       In a sadly pleasing strain,{2}
+       Let the warbling lute complain:
+           Let the loud trumpet sound,
+           Till the roofs all around
+           The shrill echoes rebound;
+     While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
+     The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
+         Hark! the numbers soft and clear
+         Gently steal upon the ear;
+         Now louder, and yet louder rise,
+         And fill with spreading sounds the skies:
+     Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
+     In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats,
+         Till, by degrees, remote and small,
+           The strains decay,
+           And melt away,
+         In a dying, dying fall.
+
+
+II.
+
+     By music, minds an equal temper know,{3}
+     Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
+     If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
+     Music her soft, assuasive{4} voice applies;
+       Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
+       Exalts her in enlivening airs.
+     Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
+     Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
+         Melancholy lifts her head,
+         Morpheus rouses from his bed,
+         Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
+         Listening Envy drops her snakes;
+     Intestine war no more our passions wage,
+     And giddy factions hear away their rage.
+
+
+III.
+
+     But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
+     How martial music every bosom warms!
+     So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,
+     High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,{5}
+         While Argo saw her kindred trees
+           Descend from Pelion to the main.
+       Transported demi-gods{6} stood round,
+       And men grew heroes at the sound,
+         Inflamed with glory's charms;
+     Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
+     And half unsheathed the shining blade:
+       And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound,
+         To arms! to arms! to arms!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     But when, through all the infernal bounds{7}
+     Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,
+         Love, strong as death,{8} the poet led
+         To the pale nations of the dead,
+       What sounds were heard,
+       What scenes appear'd,
+         O'er all the dreary coast!
+         Dreadful gleams,
+         Dismal screams,
+         Fires that glow,
+         Shrieks of woe,
+         Sullen moans,
+         Hollow groans,
+       And cries of tortured ghosts!
+         But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
+         And see! the tortured ghosts respire,
+         See, shady forms{9} advance!
+       Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,{10}
+       Ixion rests upon his wheel,
+         And the pale spectres dance;
+     The Furies sink upon their iron beds,
+     And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.
+
+
+V.
+
+         By the streams that ever flow,
+         By the fragrant winds that blow
+           O'er the Elysian flowers;
+         By those happy souls who dwell
+         In yellow meads of asphodel,
+           Or amaranthine bowers;
+         By the heroes' armed shades,
+         Glittering through the gloomy glades,
+         By the youths that died for love,
+         Wandering in the myrtle grove,
+     Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
+     Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
+
+         He sung, and hell{11} consented
+           To hear the poet's prayer;
+         Stern Proserpine relented,
+           And gave him back the fair.
+             Thus song could prevail
+             O'er death and o'er hell,
+     A conquest how hard and how glorious!
+         Though fate had fast bound her
+         With Styx nine times round her,
+     Yet music and love were victorious.{12}
+
+
+VI.
+
+     But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:
+     Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
+     How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
+     No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
+       Now under hanging mountains,
+       Beside the falls of fountains,
+       Or where Hebrus wanders,
+       Rolling in meanders,
+         All alone,
+         Unheard, unknown,
+         He makes his moan;
+         And calls her ghost,
+       For ever, ever, ever lost!
+       Now with furies surrounded,{13}
+       Despairing, confounded,
+       He trembles, he glows,
+       Amidst Rhodope's{14} snows:
+     See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;
+     Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries--
+                           Ah see, he dies!
+       Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
+     Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,
+         Eurydice the woods,
+         Eurydice the floods,
+     Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         Music{15} the fiercest grief can charm,
+         And fate's severest rage disarm;
+         Music can soften pain to ease,
+         And make despair and madness please:
+             Our joys below it can improve,
+             And antedate the bliss above.
+         This the divine Cecilia found,
+         And to her Maker's praise confined the sound.
+         When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,
+           The immortal powers incline their ear;
+         Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
+         While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;
+           And angels lean from heaven to hear.
+         Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
+           To bright Cecilia greater power is given;
+         His numbers raised a shade from hell,
+           Hers lift the soul to heaven.{16}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1708 at the suggestion of Sir Richard Steele;
+it was set to music by Maurice Greene, and in 1730 was performed at the
+public commemoration at Cambridge. Its model is Dryden's famous ode,
+"Alexander's Feast," of which Pope was a warm admirer (see page 159).
+Dr. Johnson says; "In his 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day' Pope is generally
+confessed to have miscarried; yet he has miscarried only as compared
+with Dryden, for he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is
+better chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the passions
+than fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains
+of real life; the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is
+read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs
+upon the ear, Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the odes want
+the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated
+recurrence of settled numbers. . . . If Pope's ode be particularly
+inspected, it will be found that the first stanza consists of sounds,
+well chosen, indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of
+hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and, perhaps, without
+much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, however, there
+are numbers, images, harmony, and vigor not unworthy the antagonist of
+Dryden. Had all been like this--but every part cannot be the best. The
+next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
+mythology; . . . we have all that can be performed by elegance of
+diction or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without
+better matter? The last stanza again refers to commonplaces. The
+conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be
+remarked that both end with the same fault--the comparison of each is
+literal on one side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do not always
+express their own thoughts. Pope, with all this labor in the praise of
+music, was ignorant of its principles and insensible of its effects."
+
+St. Cecilia, the Christian Polyhymnia and patron saint of sacred music,
+is said to have suffered martyrdom about the year 230. In Chaucer's
+"Seconde Nonnes Tale"--which is an almost literal translation of the
+"Legenda Aurea," written in the thirteenth century--it is related that,
+on account of Cecilia's spotless purity, an angel came down from heaven
+to be her guardian. Her husband, Valerian, was also the recipient of
+angelic favors, for
+
+     "This angel had of roses and lilie
+      Corones two, the which he bare in honde,
+      And first to Cecile, as I understonde,
+      He yaf that on, and after gan he take
+      That other to Valerian hire make."
+
+How and when Cecilia was first recognized as the patron saint of music
+does not appear. The legend only says, that
+
+         "While the organs maden melodie,
+     To God alone thus in hire hert song she;
+     'O Lord, my soule and eke my body gie
+     Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'"
+
+There is also a tradition in the church that St. Cecilia was the
+inventor of the organ. Dryden calls her "inventress of the vocal frame"
+(see page 164). The origin of this musical instrument is not known, but
+the first organs used in Italy are said to have been brought thither
+from Greece. Some of the Roman churches are known to have had them in
+use in the seventh century, but they were not common until several
+hundred years later. The festival of St. Cecilia occurs on the 22d of
+November.
+
+1. =ye Nine.= The nine Muses: (1) Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry; (2)
+Clio, the Muse of history; (3) Euterpe, the Muse of lyric poetry; (4)
+Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy; (5) Terpsichore, the Muse of choral
+dance and song; (6) Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry; (7) Polyhymnia,
+the Muse of the sublime hymn; (8) Urania, the Muse of astronomy; (9)
+Thalia, the Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. The custom of invoking
+the Muses, at the beginning of poems, is derived from Homer:
+
+     "Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse."
+                                                 --_Iliad_, I, 1.
+
+     "Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man
+      Who, having overthrown the sacred town
+      Of Ilium, wandered far," etc.
+                                               --_Odyssey_, I, 1.
+
+Milton invokes the
+
+          "heavenly Muse that on the secret top
+      Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
+      That shepherd," etc.
+                                         --_Paradise Lost_, I, 1.
+
+2. Observe how, in the sixteen lines following, the sound is made in
+some measure to be "an echo to the sense."
+
+3. =equal temper know.= Evenness of disposition acquire. The music of
+Timotheus had an opposite effect on Alexander. See "Alexander's Feast."
+
+4. =assuasive.= Moderating.
+
+5. =the Thracian raised his strain.= Orpheus was a Thracian, the son of
+Oeagrus and the Muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a lyre, and the Muses
+instructed him in its use; and so sweet was the music which he drew from
+it that the wild beasts were enchanted and the trees and rocks moved
+from their places to follow the sound. When Jason and his followers, the
+Argonauts, were unable to launch their ship Argo, Orpheus played his
+lyre, and the vessel glided into the sea, while her "kindred trees
+descended" from the slopes of the mountain (Pelion) and followed her
+into "the main."
+
+6. =demi-gods.= Half-gods; heroes. Among the Argonauts were Hercules,
+Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Peleus, Nestor, and others similarly
+renowned.
+
+7. =infernal bounds.= Boundaries of hell. The wife of Orpheus was a nymph
+named Eurydice. She having died from the bite of a serpent, the sweet
+musician followed her into the infernal regions. He begged of Pluto that
+his wife might return with him to the earth, but his prayer was granted
+only upon condition that he should not look back upon her until both had
+safely passed the gates between Hades and the upper world. The poet
+tells the rest of the story.
+
+=Phlegethon.= A river of hell in which flowed fire instead of water.
+
+8. See Song of Solomon viii. 6: "Love is strong as death."
+
+9. =shady forms.= Departed spirits were called "shades," because they were
+supposed to be perceptible sometimes to the sight but never to the
+touch. See "heroes' armed shades," below.
+
+10. =Sisyphus.= See note 18, page 147.
+
+=Ixion.= King of the Lapithæ. As a punishment for ingratitude to Zeus, his
+hands and feet were chained to a wheel which was always in motion.
+
+=Furies.= See note 20, page 167.
+
+11. =hell.= The powers of hell--or, as he explains below, Proserpine, the
+queen of the infernal regions. =Styx.= The principal river of hell, around
+which it flows seven--not nine--times.
+
+12. See Milton's "L'Allegro," 135:
+
+     "Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
+      Married to immortal verse, . . .
+      That Orpheus' self may heave his head
+      From golden slumber on a bed
+      Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear
+      Such strains as would have won the ear
+      Of Pluto to have quite set free
+      His half-regain'd Eurydice."
+
+13. Orpheus's grief for the loss of Eurydice caused him to treat with
+contempt the Thracian women among whom he dwelt, and they in revenge
+tore him to pieces, under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies.
+His head was given by the Hebrus to the sea, and finally carried to the
+island of Lesbos, where it was buried. See Milton's "Lycidas," 58:
+
+     "What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
+      The Muse herself for her enchanting son,
+      Whom universal nature did lament,
+      When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
+      His gory visage down the stream was sent,
+      Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?"
+
+See, also, "Paradise Lost," VII, 32:
+
+               "The barbarous dissonance
+      Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
+      Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
+      In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
+      To rapture, till the savage clamor drown'd
+      Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
+      Her son."
+
+14. =Rhodope.= A range of mountains in Thrace, sacred to Bacchus. =Hæmus=
+was another range extending from Rhodope, on the west, to the Black Sea,
+on the east.
+
+15. =Music.= Compare what Pope says of music with:
+
+     "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast."
+                              --_Congreve_, _The Mourning Bride_.
+
+     "O Music! sphere-descended maid,
+      Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!"
+                                     --_Collins_, _The Passions_.
+
+     "Soft is the music that would charm forever."
+                                       --_Wordsworth_, _Sonnets_.
+
+16. Compare these lines with the four which end Dryden's "Alexander's
+Feast."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALEXANDER POPE was born in London in 1688. He had some instruction at
+home, and was afterwards sent, first to a Roman Catholic seminary near
+Winchester, then to another in London. "This," he said, "was all the
+teaching I ever had, and God knows it extended a very little way. When I
+had done with my priests, I took to reading by myself, for which I had a
+very great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry: and in a few
+years I had dipped into a very great number of the English, Italian,
+Latin, and Greek poets." He was small of stature and deformed, and his
+ill health made him peevish, irritable, and selfish. Yet his rare
+intellectual abilities and the deserved success of his earlier poetry
+secured for him the friendship of many of the most influential men of
+the time. Bolingbroke declared that he never knew a man more tenderly
+devoted to his friends; and Warburton said, "He is as good a companion
+as poet, and, what is more, appears to be a good man."
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711; the "Rape of the
+Lock" in 1714; his translation of Homer's "Iliad" in 1715-18, and of the
+"Odyssey" in 1726; the "Dunciad" in 1728; the "Essay on Man" in 1732. A
+revised and enlarged version of the "Dunciad" was published in 1742. The
+latter part of Pope's life was spent at his country-seat of Twickenham,
+which he enlarged and beautified from the proceeds of his translation of
+Homer. He died in 1744.
+
+"Pope is our greatest master in didactic poetry," says Stopford Brooke,
+"not so much because of the worth of the thoughts as because of the
+masterly form in which they are put."
+
+"In two directions," says Mark Pattison, "in that of condensing and
+pointing his meaning, and in that of drawing the utmost harmony of sound
+out of the couplet, Pope carried versification far beyond the point at
+which it was when he took it up. The matter which he worked up into his
+verse has a permanent value, and is indeed one of the most precious
+heirlooms which the eighteenth century has bequeathed us."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rape of the Lock; The Dying Christian to his
+Soul; The Universal Prayer; Pastorals; Windsor Forest.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Stephen's _Hours in a
+Library_; De Quincey's _Literature of the Eighteenth Century_; Lowell's
+_My Study Window_; _Pope_ (English Men of Letters), by Leslie Stephen.
+
+
+
+
+The Seventeenth Century.
+
+
+"_The people of the seventeenth century were weary of liberty, weary of
+the unmitigated rage of the dramatists, cloyed with the roses and the
+spices and the kisses of the lyrists, tired of being carried over the
+universe and up and down the avenues of history at the freak of every
+irresponsible rhymester. Literature had been set open to all the breezes
+of heaven by the blustering and glittering Elizabethans, and in the
+hands of their less gifted successors it was fast declining into a mere
+Cave of the Winds. . . . We know the poets of the early Caroline period
+almost entirely by extracts, and their ardor, quaintness, and sudden
+flashes of inspiration give them a singular advantage in this form. The
+sustained elevation which had characterized Shakespeare and Spenser, and
+even in some degree several of the chief of their contemporaries, had
+passed away, but still the poets were most brilliant, most delectable in
+their purple patches. . . . As the last waves of the Renaissance died
+away, a deathly calm settled down upon the pools of thought. Man
+returned from the particular to the general, from romantic examples to
+those disquisitions on the norm which were thought to display a
+classical taste. The seer disappeared, and the artificer took his place.
+For a whole century the singer that only sang because he must, and as
+the linnets do, was entirely absent from English literature. He came
+back at the close of the eighteenth century, with Burns in Scotland, and
+with Blake in England._"--EDMUND GOSSE.
+
+"_At the same time, amid the classical coldness which then dried up
+English literature, and the social excess which then corrupted English
+morals . . . appeared a mighty and superb mind (Milton), prepared by
+logic and enthusiasm for eloquence and the epic style; the heir of a
+poetical age, the precursor of an austere age, holding his place
+between the epoch of unselfish dreaming and the epoch of practical
+action._"--TAINE.
+
+
+=Poets of the Seventeenth Century.=
+
+=Ben Jonson= (1573-1637). See biographical note, page 213.
+
+=William Drummond of Hawthornden= (1585-1649). Short poems; "Poems:
+Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
+Madrigals"; "Floures of Sion."
+
+=William Browne= (1588-1643). "Britannia's Pastorals"; "The Shepherd's
+Pipe"; "The Inner Temple Masque."
+
+=George Wither= (1588-1667). Short poems; "Collection of Emblems"; "Nature
+of Man"; "The Shepheard's Hunting"; "Fidelia."
+
+=Phineas Fletcher= (1582-1650). "The Locustes"; "The Purple Island."
+
+=Giles Fletcher= (1588-1623). "Christ's Victory and Triumph."
+
+=Thomas Carew= (1589-1639). Short poems; "Cælum Britannicum."
+
+=Francis Quarles= (1592-1644). "Divine Poems"; "Emblems, Divine and
+Moral."
+
+=Robert Herrick= (1594-1674). See biographical note, page 202.
+
+=Sir John Suckling= (1608-1642). Love poems.
+
+=Richard Lovelace= (1618-1658). Short poems; "Lucasta: Odes, Sonnets,
+Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Herbert of Cherbury= (1581-1648). Odes and short poems.
+
+=George Herbert= (1592-1634). "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private
+Ejaculations"; short poems.
+
+=George Sandys= (1577-1643). "Christ's Passion."
+
+=Richard Crashaw= (1615-1650). "Steps to the Altar."
+
+=Henry Vaughan= (1621-1695). "Silex Scintillans"; "The Mount of Olives."
+
+=Abraham Cowley= (1618-1667). "Poetical Blossomes"; "The Mistress."
+
+=Edmund Waller= (1605-1687). See biographical note, page 205.
+
+=Sir John Denham= (1615-1668). "Cooper's Hill."
+
+=Sir William Davenant= (1605-1668). "Gondibert"; "Madagascar and Other
+Poems."
+
+=John Milton= (1608-1674). See biographical note, page 195.
+
+=Andrew Marvell= (1621-1678). Lyric and satiric poems.
+
+=Samuel Butler= (1612-1680). "Hudibras."
+
+=Thomas Otway= (1651-1685). "The Poet's Complaint of his Muse"; "Windsor
+Castle."
+
+=John Dryden= (1631-1700). See biographical note, page 175.
+
+
+
+
+John Dryden.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC:
+
+AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+
+     'Twas at the royal feast,{1} for Persia won
+           By Philip's warlike son:
+         Aloft in awful state
+         The godlike hero sate
+           On his imperial throne:
+         His valiant peers were placed around;
+     Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound:{2}
+         (So should desert in arms be crowned.)
+       The lovely Thais,{3} by his side,
+       Sate like a blooming Eastern bride
+       In flower of youth and beauty's pride.
+           Happy, happy, happy pair!
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Happy, happy, happy pair!
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+       Timotheus,{4} placed on high
+         Amid the tuneful quire,
+         With flying fingers touched the lyre:
+       The trembling notes ascend the sky,
+                 And heavenly joys inspire.
+       The song began from Jove,{5}
+       Who left his blissful seats above,
+       (Such is the power of mighty love.)
+       A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
+       Sublime on radiant spires he rode.
+     The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,
+     A present deity,{6} they shout around;
+     A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:
+             With ravish'd ears
+             The monarch hears,
+             Assumes the god,
+             Affects to nod,{7}
+         And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                   With ravish'd ears
+                   The monarch hears,
+                   Assumes the god,
+                   Affects to nod,
+               And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+     The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung,
+         Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
+           The jolly god in triumph comes;
+           Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
+             Flush'd with a purple grace,
+             He shows his honest face:
+     Now give the hautboys{8} breath; he comes! he comes!
+         Bacchus, ever fair and young,
+           Drinking joys did first ordain;
+         Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+         Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+             Rich the treasure,
+             Sweet the pleasure;
+         Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+               Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+                   Rich the treasure,
+                   Sweet the pleasure;
+                   Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+         Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
+         Fought all his battles o'er again;
+     And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.{9}
+         The master saw the madness rise;
+         His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
+         And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,
+         Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.
+           He chose a mournful muse,
+           Soft pity to infuse:
+         He sung Darius{10} great and good,
+               By too severe a fate,
+             Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
+         Fallen from his high estate,
+           And welt'ring in his blood;
+         Deserted at his utmost need,
+         By those his former bounty fed:
+       On the bare earth expos'd he lies,{11}
+       With not a friend to close his eyes.{12}
+     With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
+     Revolving in his alter'd soul
+       The various turns of chance below;
+     And, now and then, a sigh he stole,{13}
+       And tears began to flow.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Revolving in his alter'd soul
+                 The various turns of chance below;
+               And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
+                 And tears began to flow.
+
+     The mighty master smil'd to see
+     That love was in the next degree:
+     'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
+     For pity melts the mind to love.{14}
+       Softly sweet, in Lydian{15} measures,
+       Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
+     War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
+     Honor, but an empty bubble;{16}
+       Never ending, still beginning,
+     Fighting still, and still destroying;
+       If the world be worth thy winning,
+     Think, oh think it worth enjoying!
+       Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
+       Take the good the gods provide thee.
+     The many{17} rend the air with loud applause;
+     So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.
+       The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+         Gaz'd on the fair
+         Who caus'd his care,
+       And sigh'd and look'd,{18} sigh'd and look'd,
+       Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+     At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+     The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                 The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+                   Gaz'd on the fair
+                   Who caus'd his care,
+                 And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
+                 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+               At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+               The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+     Now strike the golden lyre again;
+     A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
+     Break his bands of sleep{19} asunder,
+     And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
+           Hark, hark, the horrid sound
+             Has raised up his head!
+             As awaked from the dead,
+           And amaz'd he stares around.
+         Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries,
+           See the Furies{20} arise:
+           See the snakes that they rear,
+           How they hiss in their hair,
+         And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
+           Behold a ghastly band,
+           Each a torch in his hand!
+     Those are Grecian ghosts,{21} that in battle were slain,
+           And unburied remain
+           Inglorious on the plain:
+         Give the vengeance due
+         To the valiant crew.{22}
+     Behold how they toss their torches on high,
+     How they point to the Persian abodes,
+     And glittering temples of their hostile gods!
+     The princes applaud with a furious joy;
+     And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+         Thais led the way,{23}
+         To light him to his prey,
+     And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+                   Thais led the way,
+                   To light him to his prey,
+               And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+             Thus, long ago,
+         Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
+         While organs{24} yet were mute;
+         Timotheus to his breathing flute,
+           And sounding lyre,
+     Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
+       At last divine Cecilia came,
+       Inventress of the vocal frame;{25}
+     The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+         Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+         And added length to solemn sounds,
+     With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+         Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+           Or both divide the crown:
+         He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
+           She drew an angel down.{26}
+
+               _Grand Chorus._
+
+                   At last divine Cecilia came,
+                   Inventress of the vocal frame;
+               The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+                   Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+                   And added length to solemn sounds,
+               With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+                   Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+                     Or both divide the crown:
+                   He rais'd a mortal to the skies
+                     She drew an angel down.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This song was written in 1697. Lord Bolingbroke relates that, calling
+upon the poet one morning, Dryden said to him: "I have been up all
+night; my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for their
+Feast of St. Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which
+occurred to me that I could not leave it till I had completed it: here
+it is, finished at one sitting."
+
+The poem was first set to music by one Jeremiah Clarke, a steward of the
+Musical Society, whose members had solicited Dryden to write it. In 1736
+it was rearranged by the great composer Handel, and again presented at a
+public performance.
+
+M. Taine says, "His 'Alexander's Feast' is an admirable trumpet-blast,
+in which metre and sound impress upon the nerves the emotions of the
+mind, a master-piece of rapture and of art, which Victor Hugo alone has
+come up to."
+
+"As a piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or recited in
+alternate strophe and anti-strophe," says Hazlitt, "nothing can be
+better."
+
+"This ode is Dryden's greatest and best work."--_Macaulay._
+
+1. =royal feast.= About the year B.C. 331, Alexander the Great, having
+overthrown the Persian Empire, held a great feast at Persepolis in
+celebration of his victories. At the close of the revelries, instigated,
+it is said, by Thais, his Athenian mistress, he set fire with his own
+hand to the great palace of Persepolis; and a general massacre of the
+inhabitants ensued. The ruins of the city and palace are still to be
+seen in a beautiful valley watered by the river Araxes--now called
+Bendemir--not far from the border of the Carmanian Desert.
+
+2. =with roses and with myrtles.= At the banquets of the Greeks it was the
+custom of the guests to wear garlands of roses and myrtles.
+
+3. =Thais.= "Her name is best known from the story of her having
+stimulated the Conqueror, during a great festival at Persepolis, to set
+fire to the palace of the Persian kings; but this anecdote, immortalized
+as it has been by Dryden's famous ode, appears to rest on the sole
+authority of Cleitarchus, one of the least trustworthy of the historians
+of Alexander, and is in all probability a mere fable." After the death
+of Alexander, Thais became the wife of Ptolemy Lagus.
+
+4. =Timotheus.= A famous flute-player from Thebes. Another and more
+celebrated Timotheus, "the poet of the later Athenian dithyramb," was a
+native of Miletus and died about the time of Alexander's birth.
+
+5. Alexander claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon; and when he visited
+the temple of that god, in the Libyan Desert, he was received by the
+priests and honored as such. See Plutarch's _Life of Alexander_.
+
+6. =present deity.= See Psalm xlvi. 1.
+
+7. =affects to nod.= See Homer's "Iliad." I, 528-530: "Jove spake, and
+nodded his dark brow, and the ambrosial locks waved from his immortal
+head; and he made great Olympus quake."
+
+8. =hautboys.= Oboes. French _hautbois_. Wind instruments resembling the
+clarionet.
+
+=Bacchus.= Compare Shakespeare:
+
+     "Come, thou monarch of the vine,
+      Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne."
+                         --_Antony and Cleopatra_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+9. =thrice he slew the slain.= How could he slay the slain?
+
+10. =Darius.= At the time of this feast at Persepolis, Darius, the
+vanquished king of Persia, was still living, although a fugitive. In the
+following year Alexander pursued him into the Parthian Desert, where he
+was murdered by the satrap of Bactria. By order of Alexander, the body
+of the unfortunate king was sent to Persepolis, to be buried in the
+tombs of the kings.
+
+11. =expos'd he lies.= Dryden seems to have written this under the
+impression that Darius had been killed before the time of the great
+feast at Persepolis.
+
+12. =close his eyes.= Compare this with the lines from Pope ("Elegy on an
+Unfortunate Lady"):
+
+     "By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;
+      By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed."
+
+13. =a sigh he stole.= Sighed silently. His sighs when the result of pity
+were not very distinctly uttered. Compare Shakespeare:
+
+              "And then the lover,
+      Sighing like a furnace."
+                               --_As You Like It_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+And then read, in the next stanza, how Alexander sighed when moved by
+love.
+
+14. =pity melts the mind to love.= Compare:
+
+     "Pity swells the tide of love."
+                            --_Young's Night Thoughts_, III, 106.
+
+     "Pity's akin to love."
+                                  --_Southern's Oroonoko_, II, 1.
+
+15. =Lydian measures.= The people of Lydia were noted for the effeminacy
+of their manners. And Lydian music was peculiarly soft and voluptuous.
+
+     "And ever against eating cares,
+      Lap me in soft Lydian airs."
+                                     --_Milton's L'Allegro_, 135.
+
+     "And all the while sweet Musicke did divide
+      Her looser notes with Lydian harmony."
+                             --_Spenser's Faerie Queene_, III, 1.
+
+Observe the change in metre in the ten lines beginning "Softly sweet."
+What does the word _sweet_ modify?
+
+16. =Honor, but an empty bubble.= So Shakespeare:
+
+     "Honor is a mere scutcheon."
+                                   --_1 Henry IV._, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+17. =The many.= The multitude.
+
+18. =sigh'd and look'd.= He no longer _steals_ a sigh, as he did when
+pitying Darius. See note 13, above.
+
+19. =Break his bands of sleep.= The music now is very different from the
+Lydian measures which "soothed his soul to pleasures." "Suidas," says
+Dr. Warton, "mentions the Orthian style in music, in which Timotheus is
+said to have played to Alexander; and one Antigenidas inflamed this
+prince still more by striking into what were called Harmatian measures.
+Quintus Curtius gives a minute description of the burning of the palace
+at Persepolis, when Alexander was accompanied by Thais. But it does not
+appear in the accurate Arrian that Thais had any share in this
+transaction. Arrian, but more so Aristobulus, endeavored to exculpate
+Alexander from the charge of frequent ebriety; but Menander plainly
+mentions the drunkenness of Alexander as proverbial."
+
+20. =Furies.= The Eumenides, or avengers of evil. They are variously
+represented by the poets. Æschylus describes them as having black
+bodies, hair composed of twining snakes, and eyes dripping with blood.
+
+21. =Grecian ghosts.= The spirits of the Greek warriors in Alexander's
+army who had been slain by the Persians.
+
+22. =crew.= This word was formerly used to designate any associated
+multitude or assemblage of persons. It is now restricted to a ship's
+company, except when occasionally used in a bad sense. From A.-S.
+_cread_ or _cruth_, a crowd.
+
+23. =Thais led the way, etc.= See note 19, above. Neither Thais nor Helen
+actually fired any city. What the poet means to say is that, as Helen
+was the cause of the destruction of Troy, so Thais instigated the
+burning of Persepolis.
+
+24. =organs.= The word _organ_ originally denoted but a single pipe, and
+hence the older English writers, when referring to the complete
+instrument, generally used the word in the plural number. "Father
+Schmidt and other famous organ-builders flourished in the latter part of
+the seventeenth century. The organ in Temple Church, London, was built
+by Schmidt in Charles II.'s time."
+
+25. =vocal frame.= The organ--the grand instrument of church music--so
+perfect that it may literally be said to speak. See introductory note to
+Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," page 153.
+
+26. St. Cecilia, according to the story in the "Golden Legend," was
+under the immediate protection of an angel. But it was not her sweet
+playing, but her spotless purity, that brought the angel to earth, not
+to listen, but to be "a heavenly guard."
+
+Compare these last four lines with those at the close of Pope's Ode.
+
+Dr. Warton says of "Alexander's Feast": "If Dryden had never written
+anything but this ode, his name would have been immortal, as would that
+of Gray, if he had never written anything but his 'Bard.' It is
+difficult to find new terms to express our admiration of the variety,
+richness, and melody of its numbers; the force, beauty, and distinctness
+of its images; the succession of so many different passions and
+feelings; and the matchless perspicuity of its diction. No particle of
+it can be wished away, but the epigrammatic turn of the four concluding
+lines."
+
+Hallam says: "This ode has a few lines mingled with a far greater number
+ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit
+which Dryden hardly ever wanted, but it is too faulty for high praise.
+It used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the
+language. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level
+of a common drinking song. It has the defects as well as the merits of
+that poetry which is written for musical accompaniment."
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE OF LONDON.
+
+[FROM "ANNUS MIRABILIS."]
+
+
+     Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,{1}
+       Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
+     From thence did soon to open streets aspire,
+       And straight to palaces and temples spread.
+
+     The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain,
+       And luxury, more late, asleep were laid;
+     All was the Night's, and in her silent reign
+       No sound the rest of Nature did invade.
+
+     In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,{2}
+       Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;
+     And first few scattering sparks about were blown,
+       Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
+
+     Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
+       And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
+     Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,
+       Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.
+
+     Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,
+       Too great for prison which he breaks with gold,
+     Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
+       And dares the world to tax him with the old,
+
+     So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,
+       And makes small outlets into open air;
+     There the fierce winds his tender force assail,
+       And beat him downward to his first repair.
+
+     The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld
+       His flames from burning but to blow them more:
+     And, every fresh attempt, he is repell'd
+       With faint denials, weaker than before.
+
+     And now, no longer letted{3} of his prey,
+       He leaps up at it with enraged desire,
+     O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,
+       And nods at every house his threatening fire.
+
+     The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge{4} descend,
+       With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;
+     About the fire into a dance they bend,
+       And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.
+
+     Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,
+       Above the palace of our slumbering King;
+     He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,
+       And drooping oft look'd back upon the wing.
+
+     At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze
+       Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
+     And long it was ere he the rest could raise,
+       Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.
+
+     The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,
+       Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire;
+     And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late
+       For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
+
+     Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;
+       Now murmuring noises rise in every street;
+     The more remote run stumbling with their fear,
+       And in the dark men justle as they meet.
+
+     So weary bees in little cells repose;
+       But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive,
+     An humming through their waxen city grows,
+       And out upon each other's wings they drive.{5}
+
+     Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day;
+       Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire;
+     Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,
+       And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.
+
+     In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind
+       His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;
+     The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,
+       And forward with a wanton fury went.
+
+     A key{6} of fire ran all along the shore,
+       And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;
+     The waken'd tides began again to roar,
+       And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.
+
+     Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
+       But fear'd the fate of Simois{7} would return;
+     Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,
+       And shrank his waters back into his urn.
+
+     The fire meantime walks in a broader gross;{8}
+       To either hand his wings he opens wide;
+     He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,
+       And plays his longing flames on the other side.
+
+     At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;
+       Now with long necks from side to side they feed;
+     At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,
+       And a new colony of flames succeed.
+
+     To every nobler portion of the town
+       The curling billows roll their restless tide;
+     In parties now they straggle up and down,
+       As armies unopposed for prey divide.
+
+     One mighty squadron, with a sidewind sped,
+       Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,
+     By powerful charms of gold and silver led
+       The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.
+
+     Another backward to the Tower would go,
+       And slowly eats his way against the wind;
+     But the main body of the marching foe
+       Against the imperial palace is design'd.
+
+     Now day appears; and with the day the King,
+       Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;
+     Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,
+       And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.
+
+     Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke
+       With gloomy pillars cover all the place;
+     Whose little intervals of night are broke
+       By sparks that drive against his sacred face.
+
+     More than his guards his sorrows made him known,
+       And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower;
+     The wretched in his grief forgot their own;
+       So much the pity of a king has power.
+
+     He wept the flames of what he lov'd so well,
+       And what so well had merited his love;
+     For never prince in grace did more excel,
+       Or royal city more in duty strove.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This selection from Dryden's long and very tedious poem, "Annus
+Mirabilis, the year of Wonders, 1666," is given here as a specimen of
+that kind of mechanical versification so popular in the latter half of
+the seventeenth century. "That part of my poem which describes the
+Fire," says Dryden, "I owe first to the piety and fatherly affection of
+our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the
+courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both of which were so
+conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve.
+And I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in
+alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of
+greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in
+use amongst us." This opinion, however, was certainly not long
+maintained by the poet, for he never afterward practised that form of
+versification which he has here praised.
+
+1. =this prodigious fire.= A half sheet published immediately after the
+Great Fire contains this account of the catastrophe which Dryden
+describes in his verses:
+
+"On Sunday, the second of September, this present year 1666, about one
+o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in
+_Pudding-lane_ near _New Fish-street_; which, falling out in a part of
+the city so close built with wooden houses . . . in a short time became
+too big to be mastered by any engines or working near it. . . . It
+continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it consumed
+houses and churches all the way to _St. Dunstan's Church_, in
+_Fleet-street_; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened;
+and that night, by the vigilancy, industry, and indefatigable pains of
+his Majesty and his Royal Highness, calling upon all people, and
+encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the
+fire in Fleet-street, etc. But on Wednesday night it suddenly broke out
+afresh in the _Inner Temple_. His Royal Highness in person fortunately
+watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and
+seasonable commands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said
+buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished."
+
+2. =source unknown.= "It was ascribed by the rage of the people either to
+the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription
+on the monument, intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion, was
+erased by James II., but restored at the Revolution."--_Warton._
+
+3. =letted.= Hindered. This use of the word _let_ is now obsolete, except
+in the phrase, "Without let or hindrance." It was frequently employed
+by the older writers.
+
+     "What lets but one may enter?"--_Shakespeare._
+
+4. =the Bridge.= The heads of traitors were displayed on London Bridge.
+"How inferior is this passage," says Dr. Dodd, "to Milton's animated
+description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however,
+seems to have here had in mind." See "Ode on the Nativity," stanza
+xxiii.
+
+5. The simile in this stanza was doubtless intended to be very
+effective.
+
+6. =key.= Quay. A bank, or ledge.
+
+7. =Simois.= See Homer's "Iliad," Bk. XXI.
+
+8. =gross.= Bulk.
+
+
+
+
+REASON AND RELIGION.
+
+[FROM "RELIGIO LAICI."]
+
+
+     Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
+     To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
+     Is Reason to the soul: and as on high,
+     Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
+     Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
+     Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
+     But guide us upward to a better day.
+     And as those nightly tapers disappear,
+     When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
+     So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
+     So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
+     Some few whose light shone brighter, have been led
+     From cause to cause, to nature's secret head;
+     And found that one first principle must be,
+     But what, or who, that Universal HE;
+     Whether some soul incompassing this ball,
+     Unmade, unmov'd, yet making, moving all,
+     Or various atoms' interfering dance
+     Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance,
+     Or this great All was from eternity--
+     Not even the Stagirite himself could see,
+     And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;
+     As blindly groped they for a future state,
+     As rashly judged of providence and fate.
+     In this wild maze their vain endeavors end:
+     How can the less the greater comprehend?
+     Or finite Reason reach Infinity?
+     For what could fathom God were more than He.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN DRYDEN was born on the 9th of August, 1631, at Aldwincle All
+Saints, near Oundle in Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster
+School, under the famous Dr. Busby, and at Trinity College, Cambridge.
+At the age of twenty-six he went up to London with the intention of
+devoting himself to literature and politics. During the brief remaining
+years of the Commonwealth (1657-1660) he was nominally a friend to the
+Puritan party; and one of the first poems written by him was a series of
+"Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell." At the Restoration he
+at once espoused the cause of the Royalists; and his recent panegyric on
+the Protector did not prevent him from writing a poem, "Astræa Redux,"
+in honor of the return of Charles the Second. In 1663 he married the
+Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, a Royalist
+nobleman. For several years he devoted himself chiefly to the writing of
+plays,--comedies, tragedies, and tragi-comedies. The comedies he wrote
+in prose; the earliest tragedies in blank verse, followed by several in
+rhyme, and, after these, others in blank verse. In 1670 he was appointed
+Poet-Laureate. In 1681, when nearly fifty years old, by the publication
+of "Absalom and Achitophel," he suddenly became famous as a satirical
+poet. He soon afterwards wrote "The Medal," another satire, directed
+against the Earl of Shaftesbury, and "Mac Flecknoe," aimed at Shadwell,
+the chief poet of the Opposition. At about the same time he produced
+"Religio Laici," a didactic poem explaining his religious opinions and
+defending the Church of England against dissenters, atheists, and
+Catholics. Not long after the accession of James II., Dryden, true to
+his policy of being always on the side of the ruling party, became a
+Catholic, and wrote "The Hind and the Panther," in which he eulogized
+many things that, in the former poem, he had ridiculed. His political
+career ended with the overthrow of James II., in 1688; but his literary
+activity continued unabated. The last years of his life were occupied in
+translating the works of Persius and Juvenal and the Æneid of Virgil. In
+1697 he wrote "Alexander's Feast"; and his "modernizations" of some of
+Chaucer's poems appeared in 1700, the year of his death.
+
+"If there is grandeur in the pomp of kings and the march of hosts," says
+A. W. Ward, "in the 'trumpet's loud clangor' and in tapestries and
+carpetings of velvet and gold, Dryden is to be ranked with the grandest
+of English poets. The irresistible impetus of an invective which never
+falls short or flat, and the savor of a satire which never seems dull or
+stale, give him an undisputed place among the most glorious of English
+wits."
+
+"His descriptive power was of the highest," says Hales. "Our literature
+has in it no more vigorous portrait-gallery than that he has bequeathed
+it. His power of expression is beyond praise. There is always a singular
+_fitness_ in his language: he uses always the right word. He is one of
+our greatest masters of metre: metre was, in fact, no restraint to him,
+but rather it seems to have given him freedom. It has been observed that
+he argues better in verse than in prose; verse was the natural costume
+of his thoughts."
+
+Professor Masson says: "Not only is Dryden the largest figure in one era
+of our literature: he is a very considerable figure also in our
+literature as a whole. Of all that he wrote, however, there is but a
+comparatively small portion that has won for itself a permanent place in
+our literature."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Absalom and Achitophel; Mac Flecknoe; Religio
+Laici; Threnodia Augustalis.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_;
+Lowell's _Among My Books_; Macaulay's _Essay on John Dryden_; Taine's
+_English Literature_; Masson's _Three Devils and Other Essays_;
+Thackeray's _English Humorists_.
+
+
+
+
+John Milton.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+
+I.
+
+     This is the month, and this the happy morn,
+     Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
+     Of wedded Maid and Virgin mother born,
+     Our great redemption from above did bring:
+     For so the holy Sages once did sing:
+       That he our deadly forfeit should release,{1}
+     And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
+
+
+II.
+
+     The glorious form, that light unsufferable,
+     And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,
+     Wherewith he wont{2} at Heav'ns high council-table
+     To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
+     He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
+       Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
+     And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.{3}
+
+
+III.
+
+     Say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein
+     Afford a present to the Infant God?
+     Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein
+     To welcome him to this his new abode
+     Now while the Heav'n by the suns team untrod
+       Hath took no print of the approaching light,
+     And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
+
+
+IV.
+
+     See how from far upon the eastern rode
+     The star-led Wisards{4} haste with odours sweet;
+     O run, prevent{5} them with thy humble ode,
+     And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
+     Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,
+       And join thy voice unto the angel quire,{6}
+     From out his secret altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
+
+
+
+
+THE HYMN.
+
+
+I.
+
+         It was the winter wilde
+         While the Heav'n-born childe
+     All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
+         Nature in aw of him
+         Had doff't her gaudy trim,
+     With her great Master so to sympathize:
+         It was no season then for her
+         To wanton with the sun her lusty paramour.{7}
+
+
+II.
+
+         Onely with speeches fair
+         She woo's the gentle air
+     To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,
+         And on her naked shame,
+         Pollute with sinfull blame,
+     The saintly veil of maiden{8} white to throw:
+         Confounded that her Makers eyes
+         Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
+
+
+III.
+
+         But he, her fears to cease,
+         Sent down the meek-eyed Peace,
+     She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
+         Down through the turning sphear,{9}
+         His ready harbinger,{10}
+     With turtle{11} wing the amorous clouds dividing,
+         And, waving wide her mirtle wand,
+         She strikes a universall peace{12} through sea and land.
+
+
+IV.
+
+         No war, or battails sound,
+         Was heard the world around;
+     The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+         The hooked chariot{13} stood
+         Unstain'd with hostile blood;
+     The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
+         And kings sate still with awfull eye,{14}
+         As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+
+V.
+
+         But peacefull was the night
+         Wherein the Prince of Light
+     His raign of peace upon the earth began;
+         The windes, with wonder whist,{15}
+         Smoothly the waters kist,
+     Whispering new joyes to the milde ocean,
+         Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+         While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
+
+
+VI.
+
+         The stars, with deep amaze,
+         Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,
+     Bending one way their precious influence,{16}
+         And will not take their flight
+         For{17} all the morning light
+     Or Lucifer{18} that often warn'd them thence;
+         But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
+         Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         And, though the shady Gloom
+         Had given day her room,
+     The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,
+         And hid his head for shame,
+         As his inferiour flame
+     The new-enlightn'd world no more should need;
+         He saw a greater sun appear
+         Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree{19} could bear.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+         The shepherds on the lawn{20}
+         Or ere{21} the point of dawn
+     Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;
+         Full little thought they than
+         That the mighty Pan{22}
+     Was kindly com to live with them below;
+         Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
+         Was all that did their silly{23} thoughts so busie keep.
+
+
+IX.
+
+         When such musick sweet
+         Their hearts and ears did greet
+     As never was by mortall finger strook,{24}
+         Divinely warbled voice
+         Answering the stringed noise{25}
+     As all their souls in blissfull rapture took;
+         The air, such pleasure loth to lose,
+         With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.{26}
+
+
+X.
+
+         Nature that heard such sound
+         Beneath the hollow round{27}
+     Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling,
+         Now was almost won
+         To think her part was don,
+     And that her raign had here its{28} last fulfilling;
+         She knew such harmony alone
+         Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
+
+
+XI.
+
+         At last surrounds their sight
+         A globe of circular light,
+     That with long beams the shame-fac't Night array'd;
+         The helmed Cherubim,{29}
+         The sworded Seraphim
+     Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaied,
+         Harping in loud and solemn quire
+         With unexpressive{30} notes to Heav'n's new-born Heir.
+
+
+XII.
+
+         Such musick (as 'tis said)
+         Before was never made
+     But when of old the sons of Morning sung,{31}
+         While the Creator great
+         His constellation set,
+     And the well-ballanc't world on hinges{32} hung,
+         And cast the dark foundations deep,
+         And bid the weltring{33} waves their oozy channel keep.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+         Ring out, ye crystall sphears;{34}
+         Once bless our humane ears
+     (If ye have power to touch our senses so),
+         And let your silver chime
+         Move in melodious time,
+     And let the base of Heav'ns deep organ blow,
+         And with your ninefold harmony
+         Make up full consort{35} to th' angelike symphony.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+         For, if such holy song
+         Enwrap our fancy long,
+     Time will run back and fetch the age of Gold;{36}
+         And speckl'd Vanity
+         Will sicken soon and die,
+     And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;{37}
+         And Hell itself will pass away,
+         And leave her{38} dolorous mansions to the peering day.
+
+
+XV.
+
+         Yea, Truth and Justice then
+         Will down return to men,
+     Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+         Mercy will set between,
+         Thron'd in celestiall sheen,
+     With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing;
+         And Heav'n, as at som festivall,
+         Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.{39}
+
+
+XVI.
+
+         But wisest Fate sayes no;
+         This must not yet be so;
+     The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
+         That on the bitter cross{40}
+         Must redeem our loss,
+     So both himself and us to glorifie;
+         Yet first to those ychain'd{41} in sleep
+         The wakefull trump{42} of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+
+XVII.
+
+         With such a horrid clang
+         As on Mount Sinai rang,{43}
+     While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake;
+         The aged Earth, agast,
+         With terrour of that blast,
+     Shall from the surface to the center shake;
+         When at the worlds last session{44}
+         The dreadfull Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+         And then at last our bliss
+         Full and perfect is,
+     But now begins; for from this happy day,
+         Th' old Dragon{45} under ground,
+         In straiter limits bound,
+     Not half so far casts his usurped sway;
+         And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
+         Swindges{46} the scaly horrour of his foulded tail.
+
+
+XIX.
+
+         The oracles are dumm;{47}
+         No voice or hideous humm
+     Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
+         Apollo from his shrine
+         Can no more divine,
+     With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos{48} leaving.
+         No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
+         Inspires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+
+XX.
+
+         The lonely mountains o'er
+         And the resounding shore
+     A voice of weeping{49} heard and loud lament;
+         From haunted spring and dale
+         Edged with poplar pale
+     The parting{50} Genius is with sighing sent;
+         With floure-inwov'n tresses torn
+         The nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+
+XXI.
+
+         In consecrated earth,
+         And on the holy hearth{51}
+     The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint
+         In urns and altars round,
+         A drear and dying sound
+     Affrights the Flamins{52} at their service quaint
+         And the chill marble seems to sweat,
+         While each peculiar power forgoes{53} his wonted seat.
+
+
+XXII.
+
+         Peor and Baälim{54}
+         Forsake their temples dim,
+     With that twise batter'd god{55} of Palestine;
+         And mooned Ashtaroth,
+         Heav'ns queen and mother both,
+     Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine;
+         The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;
+         In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn;{56}
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+         And sullen Moloch, fled,
+         Hath left in shadows dred{57}
+     His burning idol all of blackest hue;
+         In vain with cymbals ring
+         They call the grisly{58} King
+     In dismall dance about the furnace blue;
+         The brutish{59} gods of Nile as fast,
+         Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis last.
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+         Nor is Osiris seen
+         In Memphian grove or green
+     Trampling the unshowr'd grass{60} with lowings loud,
+         Nor can he be at rest
+         Within his sacred chest;
+     Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;
+         In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
+         The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.
+
+
+XXV.
+
+         He feels from Judas land
+         The dredded Infants hand;
+     The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;{61}
+         Nor all the gods beside
+         Longer dare abide,
+     Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
+         Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
+         Can in his swaddling bands controul the damned crew.
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+         So, when the Sun in bed,{62}
+         Curtain'd with cloudy red
+     Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
+         The flocking shadows pale
+         Troop to th' infernal jail;
+     Each fetter'd ghost slips to his severall grave;
+         And the yellow-skirted Fayes
+         Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+         But see the Virgin blest
+         Hath laid her Babe to rest;
+     Time is our tedious song should here have ending;
+         Heav'ns youngest teemed{63} star
+         Hath fixt her polish'd car,
+     Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
+         And all about the courtly stable
+         Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.{64}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was begun by Milton on Christmas day, 1629. He had then just
+completed his twenty-first year, and was still an undergraduate at
+Christ's College, Cambridge. From certain fragments and other evidence,
+it is believed that he contemplated writing a series of poems on great
+Christian events in a similar way. This is the first poem of importance
+which he wrote. Hallam speaks of it as perhaps the finest lyric of its
+kind in the English language. "A grandeur, a simplicity, a breadth of
+manner, an imagination at once elevated and restrained by the subject,
+reign throughout it. If Pindar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be
+hard to name any other ode so truly Pindaric; but more has naturally
+been derived from the Scriptures."
+
+1. =our deadly forfeit should release.= Should remit the penalty of death
+pronounced against us. Shakespeare has a similar use of the word
+"forfeit."
+
+     "Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal
+      Remit thy other forfeits."
+                           --_Measure for Measure_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+2. =wont.= The past tense of the A.-S. verb _wunian_, to persist, to
+continue, to be accustomed. Now used only in connection with some form
+of the auxiliary verb _be_.
+
+3. Explain the meaning of each word in this line, and of the whole line.
+The next two stanzas comprise an invocation to the Muse of Poetry. See
+note 1, page 153.
+
+4. =Wisards.= Wizards. Wise men. The word was originally used in this
+sense, and not with the depreciatory meaning of "magician," as at
+present. Spenser says:
+
+     "Therefore the antique wizards well invented
+      That Venus of the fomy sea was bred,"
+
+meaning by "antique wizards" ancient philosophers.
+
+5. =prevent.= Go before; the original meaning of the word, from Lat.
+_præ_, before, and _venio_, to go or come.
+
+     "I prevented the dawning of the morning."--_Psalm_ cxix. 147.
+
+     "I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning, for I will
+     prevent the sun rising."--_Izaak Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+6. =angel quire.= "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
+the heavenly host praising God."--_Luke_ ii, 13.
+
+7. =paramour.= See note 9, page 80.
+
+8. =maiden.= Pure, innocent, unpolluted. Compare
+
+     "When I am dead, strew me o'er
+      With maiden flowers."
+                    --_Shakespeare_, _Henry VIII_, Act iv, sc. 2.
+
+9. =turning sphear.= The Ptolemaic system of astronomy taught that the
+earth was the centre of the universe, and that all the heavenly bodies
+revolved about it, being fixed in a complicated framework, or series of
+hollow crystalline spheres moving one within the other. The "turning
+sphear" is here this entire system of revolving spheres. See note 34,
+below.
+
+10. =harbinger.= One who provides a resting-place for a superior person.
+It was the duty of the king's harbinger, when the court removed from one
+place to another, to provide lodgings for the king's retinue. Derived
+from _harbor_, _harborage_. The word "harbor" is from A.-S. _here_,
+army, and _beorg_, a refuge. Others derive the word from _har_, a
+message, and _bringer_--hence, one who brings a message, a herald.
+
+Parkes's _Topography of Hampstead_, 1818, contains the following:
+
+"The office of harbinger still exists in the Royal Household, the
+nominal duty of the officer being to ride one stage onward before the
+king on his progress, to provide lodging and provision for the court."
+
+The last knight-harbinger was Sir Henry Rycroft (appointed in 1816, died
+October, 1846, aged eighty). The office became extinct at his death.
+
+11. =turtle.= Commonly _turtle-dove_. For history of the word as now
+applied to the tortoise, see Worcester's Dictionary.
+
+12. =universall peace.= About the time of the birth of Christ there was
+peace throughout the Roman Empire, and the temple of Janus was shut.
+
+13. =hooked chariot.= The war-chariot armed with scythes, a Celtic
+invention adopted by the Romans.
+
+14. =awfull eye.= We would say, "awe-filled eyes."
+
+=sovran.= Old French _souverain_. Some derive it from Lat. _supra_, above,
+and _regno_, to reign.
+
+15. =whist.= Hushed. This word, now used as a sort of interjection
+commanding silence, seems to have had in earlier English more of a
+verbal meaning, as Spenser in "The Faerie Queene," VII, vii, 59:
+
+     "So was the Titaness put downe and whist."
+
+It also meant _to keep silent_, as in Surrey's "Virgil":
+
+     "They whisted all, with fixed face intent."
+
+A game of cards in which the players are supposed to keep silent is
+called whist.
+
+=birds of calm.= Halcyons. See note 1, page 78.
+
+16. =influence.= From Lat. _in_, into, and _fluo_, to flow. This word,
+until a comparatively modern date, was always used with respect to the
+supposed mysterious rays or aspects flowing from the stars to the earth,
+and thus having a strange power over the fortunes of men. "Canst thou
+bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades?"--_Job_ xxviii. 31.
+
+     "Happy constellations on that hour
+      Shed their selectest influences."
+                                    --_Paradise Lost_, VIII, 512.
+
+17. =For.= Notwithstanding.
+
+18. =Lucifer.= The morning star. The idea of Lucifer appearing to warn the
+stars of the approach of the sun is a happy figure. See note 7, page 80.
+
+19. =axle-tree.= Axis. _Tree_ in O. E. is used to signify beam. We still
+have _single-tree_, _double-tree_, _whiffle-tree_, etc. Compare "Comus,"
+95:
+
+     "The gilded car of day
+      His glowing axle doth allay."
+
+20. =lawn.= Used in its original sense of a pasture, or open, grassy
+space. Formerly _laund_. Similarly we have _lane_, an open passage
+between houses or fields.
+
+21. =Or ere.= _Or_ is here used in its old sense, meaning _before_, from
+A.-S. _ær_. _Ere_ = e'er, ever. Compare Ecclesiastes xii. 6: "Or ever
+the silver cord be loosed." Also "King Lear," Act ii, sc. 4:
+
+                       "But this heart
+      Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
+      Or ere I'll weep."
+
+22. =Pan.= See note, page 72. The application of the name _Pan_ to Christ
+is evidently derived from Spenser. See "Shepheards Calendar," July:
+
+     "And such, I ween, the brethren were
+        That came from Canaän,
+      The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere
+        The flocks of mightie Pan."
+
+In the Glosse to the Calendar for May it is said that "Great Pan is
+Christ, the very God of all shepheards, which calleth himselfe the great
+and good shepheard. The name is most rightly (methinks) applied to him;
+for Pan signifieth all, or omnipotent, which is only the Lord Iesus. And
+by that name (as I remember) he is called of Eusebius in his fifth
+booke, _De Preparat. Evange._"
+
+23. =silly.= From A.-S. _saelig_, blessed, happy. Spenser uses the word in
+the sense of innocent, as in "Faerie Queene," III, viii, 27:
+
+     "The silly virgin strove him to withstand."
+
+Chaucer, in the "Reves Tale," uses it in the more modern sense of
+simple, or foolish:
+
+     "These sely clerkes han ful fast yronne."
+
+But in the "Legend of Good Women" it has another meaning:
+
+     "O sely woman, full of innocence."
+
+The meaning of this word has completely changed.
+
+24. =strook.= Caused to sound as on a stringed instrument. Compare Dryden
+in "Alexander's Feast":
+
+     "Now strike the golden lyre again."
+
+25. =noise.= A company of musicians under a leader. Used in this sense by
+both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+26. =close.= Cadence. See Dryden, "Fables":
+
+     "At every _close_ she made, th' attending throng
+      Replied, and bore the burden of the song."
+
+27. =hollow round.= The sphere in which the moon has its motion. See notes
+9 and 34.
+
+=Cynthia.= The moon. In the ancient mythology applied to Artemis, from
+Mount Cynthus in the island of Delos, her birthplace.
+
+28. =its.= In all his poetry, Milton uses this word only three times. The
+other examples are in "Paradise Lost," I, 254, and IV, 814. This
+possessive form of the pronoun it was never used until the time of
+Shakespeare, who employs it five times in "A Winter's Tale," and once in
+"Measure for Measure"; it does not occur anywhere in the authorized
+version of the Bible.
+
+29. Why are the Cherubim "helmed," while the Seraphim are "sworded"?
+Addison says, "Some of the rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set
+of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love
+most." Observe that the plural of cherub or of seraph may be formed in
+three ways: viz. cherubs, cherubim, cherubims; seraphs, seraphim,
+seraphims.
+
+30. =unexpressive.= Inexpressible. See Shakespeare, "As You Like It":
+
+     "The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she."
+
+Also Milton, "Lycidas," 176:
+
+     "And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song."
+
+31. =the sons of Morning sung.= See Job xxxviii. 4-7, the oldest reference
+to the "music of the spheres." See note 34, below.
+
+32. =hinges.= Literally, a hinge is anything for hanging something upon.
+From A.-S. _hangian_.
+
+33. =weltring.= Rolling, wallowing. See "Lycidas," 13.
+
+34. =Ring out.= An allusion to the music of the spheres. See note 27,
+above. The theory of Pythagoras was that the distances between the
+heavenly bodies were determined by the laws of musical concord. "These
+orbs in their motion could not but produce a certain sound or note,
+depending upon their distances and velocities; and as these were
+regulated by harmonic laws, they necessarily formed as a whole a
+complete musical scale." "In the whorl of the distaff of necessity there
+are eight concentric whorls. These whorls represent respectively the sun
+and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars. On each whorl sits a
+siren singing. Their eight tones make one exquisite harmony." Milton
+added a ninth whorl,--"that swift nocturnal and diurnal rhomb,"--and
+then spoke of the "ninefold harmony," as just below. This was a favorite
+idea with the poets.
+
+     "Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,
+      Listening the lordly music flowing from
+      The illimitable years."
+                                   --_Tennyson_, _Ode to Memory_.
+
+     "The music of the spheres! list, my Mariana!"
+                       --_Shakespeare_, _Pericles_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
+      But in his motion like an angel sings
+      Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims."
+             --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears,
+      And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,
+      How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
+      The whispering zephyr and the purling rill!"
+                                     --_Pope_, _Essay on Man_, I.
+
+     "Her voice, the music of the spheres,
+      So loud, it deafens mortals' ears,
+      As wise philosophers have thought,
+      And that's the cause we hear it not."
+                               --_Butler's Hudibras_, II, i, 617.
+
+See, also, Montaigne, _Essays_, I, xxii; Sir Thomas Browne's _Religio
+Medici_, II, 9; Plato's _Republic_, VI; Dryden's "Ode to Mrs. Anne
+Killigrew," etc.
+
+35. =consort.= Accompaniment. This word, so written until Milton's time,
+has now given place to _concert_, whenever used as here.
+
+36. =age of Gold.= The fabled primeval age of universal happiness.
+
+     "A blisful lyfe, a peseable, and so swete,
+      Ledde the peplis in the former age."--_Chaucer._
+
+37. =mould.= Matter, substance. The word is used in the old Romances to
+denote the earth itself. Milton elsewhere says:
+
+     "Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
+      Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?"
+
+38. =her.= Observe what has already been said (note 28, above) about the
+pronoun _its_. _Hell_, in the Anglo-Saxon language, is feminine. But,
+just above, observe the expression _it self_. See, in the last line of
+stanza xv, the pronoun _her_ with _heaven_ as its antecedent. _Heofon_,
+in the Anglo-Saxon, is also feminine.
+
+39. This stanza is a fine example of word-painting. What idea is
+conveyed to your mind by the expressions, "orb'd in a rainbow," "like
+glories wearing," "thron'd in celestiall sheen," "the tissued clouds
+down stearing," etc.? What kind of glories will Mercy wear? Where will
+she sit? How will she be enthroned? What are _radiant_ feet? Why are
+Mercy's feet radiant? Does she steer the tissued clouds "with radiant
+feet," or does she steer herself down the tissued clouds? Why will the
+opening of Heaven's high palace wall be "as at some festivall"?
+
+40. =bitter cross.= Compare Shakespeare, "1 Henry IV," Act i, sc. 1, 27:
+
+                             "Those blessed feet
+      Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
+      For our advantage, on the bitter cross."
+
+41. =ychain'd.= The _y_ is a corruption of the prefix _ge_, anciently used
+in connection with the past participle, and still retained in many
+German words. Often used by Chaucer and Spenser, as in yblessed,
+yburied, ybrent, yfonden, ygeten, yclad, yfraught, etc.
+
+42. =trump.= "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
+with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead
+in Christ shall rise first."--_1 Thessalonians_ iv. 16.
+
+=wakefull.= Awakening.
+
+43. =rang.= See Exodus xix.
+
+44. =session.= Assize. Both words were originally from the same root, Lat.
+_sedeo_, _sessum_.
+
+=spread.= Prepare, make ready. A similar use of the word survives in the
+idiom "to spread the table."
+
+45. =Dragon.= See Revelation xii. 9.
+
+46. =Swindges.= Swings about violently. This is the only case in which
+Milton uses this word. It is used several times by Shakespeare in the
+sense of _to whip_, _to scourge_.
+
+47. =oracles are dumm.= Keightly says: "This was a frequent assertion of
+the Fathers, who ascribed to the coming of Christ what was the effect of
+time. They regarded the ancient oracles as having been the inspiration
+of the devil."
+
+Spenser, quoting the story which Plutarch relates in "his Booke of the
+ceasing of miracles," says, "For at that time, as hee sayth, all Oracles
+surceased, and enchaunted spirites that were woont to delude the people
+thenceforth held their peace."--_Glosse to Shepheards Calendar, May._
+
+48. =Delphos.= The mediæval form of the word _Delphi_. The temple where
+was the chief oracle of Apollo was at Delphi, built at the foot of a
+precipitous cliff two thousand feet high. This oracle was suppressed by
+the Emperor Theodosius.
+
+49. =weeping.= Compare Matthew ii. 19, and Jeremiah xxxi. 15.
+
+Spenser, in the same _Glosse_, quoted from above, says, "About the same
+time that our Lorde suffered his most bitter passion for the redemption
+of man, certaine persons sailing from Italie to Cyprus and passing by
+certaine iles called Paxæ, heard a voice calling aloud Thamus, Thamus,
+(now Thamus was the name of an Egyptian which was pylote of the ship),
+who, giving ear to the crie, was bidden, when he came to Palodes to tell
+that great Pan was dead: which hee doubting to doe, yet for that when
+hee came to Palodes, there suddenly was such a calme of winde that the
+ship stoode still in the sea unmooved, he was forced to crie aloude that
+Pan was dead: wherewithall there was heard such piteous outcries, and
+dreadfull shriking as hath not beene the like."
+
+50. =parting.= Departing. Frequently used in Old English.
+
+=Genius.= Spirit. See "Lycidas," 182:
+
+     "Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore."
+
+51. =consecrated earth--holy hearth.= Referring to the places specially
+haunted by the Lars and Lemures. The Lemures were the spirits of the
+dead, and were said to wander about at night, frightening the living.
+The Lares were the household gods, sometimes referred to as the spirits
+of good men. The former frequented the graveyards; the latter, the
+hearths.
+
+52. =Flamins.= Priests.
+
+53. =forgoes.= Goes from, gives up, abandons.
+
+54. =Peor and Baälim.= Compare the proper names which occur in this and
+the following stanzas with those in "Paradise Lost," I, 316-352.
+
+=Peor.= The name of a mountain of Palestine is here used as one of the
+titles of Baal, who was worshipped there.
+
+=Baälim.= Plural of Baal, meaning that god in his various modifications.
+
+=Ashtaroth.= The Syrian goddess Astarte. But her worship was identified
+rather with the planet Venus than with the moon.
+
+=Hammon.= A Libyan deity, represented as a ram or as a man with ram's
+horns.
+
+55. =twise batter'd god.= Dagon. See 1 Samuel v.
+
+56. =mourn.= In Phoenicia, in the ancient city of Byblos, a festival of
+two days was held every year in honor of Adonis, or Thammuz, as the
+Phoenicians called him. The first day was observed as a day of
+mourning for the death of the god; the second, as a day of rejoicing
+because of his return to the earth. The principal participants were
+young women. The prophet Ezekiel alludes to this subject: "Then he
+brought me to the door of the gate of the Lord's house which was toward
+the north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz."--_Ezekiel_
+viii. 14.
+
+Milton, in "Paradise Lost," says:
+
+        "Thammuz came next behind,
+      Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd
+      The Syrian damsels to lament his fate
+      In amorous ditties all a summer's day."
+
+57. Compare with "Paradise Lost," I, 392-405. In _Sandys's Travels_,
+published in 1615, and a popular book in Milton's time, the following
+description is given of the sacrifices made to Moloch: "Therein the
+Hebrews sacrificed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having
+the head of a calf, the rest of a kingly figure, with arms extended to
+receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death with his burning
+embracements. For the idol was hollow within and filled with fire."
+
+58. =grisly.= Frightful, hideous. Probably from A.-S. _agrisan_, to dread.
+
+59. =brutish.= Shaped like a brute; animal.
+
+=Isis.= The Egyptian earth-goddess, afterwards worshipped as the goddess
+of the moon.
+
+=Orus.= The Egyptian god of the sun.
+
+the dog =Anubis=. Juvenal says, "Whole towns worship the dog."--_Sat._,
+XV, 8.
+
+60. =unshowr'd.= A reference to the general, though erroneous, idea that
+it does not rain in Egypt.
+
+=Osiris=, or Apis, one of the chief gods of the Egyptians, was represented
+by a bull.
+
+=sacred chest= = =worshipt ark=, below.
+
+61. =eyn.= The old plural form of eyes. This form of the plural survives
+in _oxen_, _children_, _brethren_, _kine_, _swine_.
+
+=Typhon.= A monster among the gods, variously described by the poets. He
+was a terror to all the other deities.
+
+62. =in bed.= The sun has not yet risen.
+
+63. =youngest teemed.= Referring to the Star of Bethlehem.
+
+64. Compare Milton's "Sonnet on his Blindness":
+
+     "They also serve who only stand and wait."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN MILTON was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London, in the year
+1608, eight years before the death of Shakespeare. From his boyhood he
+showed the possession of more than ordinary powers of mind. He was
+educated first under private tutors, and at St. Paul's School, and
+finally at Christ's College, Cambridge, where in 1632 he received the
+degree of "Master of Arts." His first considerable work was the "Hymn on
+the Morning of the Nativity," written in 1629. Within the next seven
+years he wrote the most noteworthy of his shorter poems: the masque,
+"Comus"; the pastoral piece entitled "Arcades"; the beautiful
+descriptive poems, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso"; and the elegy,
+"Lycidas." In 1639 he made a tour upon the Continent, visited the famous
+seats of learning in France and Italy, and made the acquaintance of many
+of the great poets and scholars of his time. Upon hearing, however, that
+civil war was about to break out in England, he hastened home, resolved
+to devote himself to what he regarded as his country's best interests.
+Poetry was abandoned for politics, and for the next twenty years he
+wrote little except prose--political tracts and controversial essays.
+When Cromwell became Lord Protector of England, Milton was appointed
+Latin Secretary of State, a position which he continued to hold until
+towards the downfall of the Commonwealth. But after the Restoration he
+quietly withdrew into retirement, resolved to devote the remainder of
+his life to the writing of the great poem which he had been
+contemplating for many years. Through unceasing study he had lost his
+sight; the friends of his youth had deserted him; the fortune which he
+had received from his father was gone. And so it was in darkness, and
+disappointment, and poverty, that in 1667 he gave to the world the great
+English epic, "Paradise Lost." It was in that same year that Dryden
+published his "Annus Mirabilis." Milton shortly afterward wrote
+"Paradise Regained"; and, in 1671, he produced "Samson Agonistes," a
+tragedy modelled after the masterpieces of the Greek drama. On the 8th
+of November, 1674, at the age of sixty-six years, his strangely eventful
+life came to a close.
+
+
+WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.
+
+     Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
+     England hath need of thee; she is a fen
+     Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
+     Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
+     Have forfeited their ancient English dower
+     Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
+     Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
+     And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
+     Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
+     Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
+     Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
+     So didst thou travel on life's common way,
+     In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
+     The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas;
+selections from Paradise Lost.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Masson's _Life and Times of John Milton_; _Milton_
+(Classical Writers), by Stopford Brooke; _Milton_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Mark Pattison; Macaulay's Essay on _Milton_; De Quincey,
+_Milton vs. Southey and Landor_; Coleridge's _Literary Remains_;
+Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Herrick.
+
+
+
+
+TO PHILLIS.
+
+
+     Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
+     The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
+     What sweets the country can afford
+     Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
+     The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
+     With crawling woodbine over-spread:
+     By which the silver-shedding streams
+     Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
+     Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
+     Made of the fleeces' purest down.
+     The tongue of kids shall be thy meat;
+     Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
+     The paste of filberts for thy bread
+     With cream of cowslips butterèd:
+     Thy feasting-table shall be hills
+     With daisies spread, and daffadils;
+     Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
+     For meat, shall give thee melody.
+     I'll give thee chains and carcanets
+     Of primroses and violets.
+     A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
+     That richly wrought, and this as brave;
+     So that as either shall express
+     The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
+     At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
+     When Themilis his pastime makes,
+     There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
+     Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
+     On holydays, when virgins meet
+     To dance the heys with nimble feet,
+     Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
+     The Queen of Roses for that year.
+     And having danced ('bove all the best)
+     Carry the garland from the rest.
+     In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
+     To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
+     The blushing apple, bashful pear,
+     And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
+     Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
+     The name of Phillis in the rind
+     Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
+     Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
+     To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
+     Be-prank'd with ribbons, to this end,
+     This, this alluring hook might be
+     Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
+     Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
+     Not made of ale, but spicèd wine;
+     To make thy maids and self free mirth,
+     All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
+     Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
+     Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
+     Of winning colors that shall move
+     Others to lust, but me to love.
+     --These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
+     If thou wilt love, and live with me.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAD MAID'S SONG.
+
+
+     Good morrow to the day so fair;
+       Good morning, sir, to you;
+     Good morrow to mine own torn hair,
+       Bedabbled with the dew.
+
+     Good morning to this primrose too;
+       Good morrow to each maid;
+     That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
+       Wherein my Love is laid.
+
+     Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,
+       Alack and well-a-day!
+     For pity, sir, find out that bee,
+       Which bore my Love away.
+
+     I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;
+       I'll seek him in your eyes;
+     Nay, now I think they've made his grave
+       I' th' bed of strawberries.
+
+     I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,
+       The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
+     But I will go, or send a kiss
+       By you, sir, to awake him.
+
+     Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
+       He knows well who do love him;
+     And who with green turfs rear his head,
+       And who do rudely move him.
+
+     He's soft and tender, pray take heed,
+       With bands of cowslips bind him,
+     And bring him home;--but 'tis decreed
+       That I shall never find him.
+
+
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING TO GOD.
+
+
+     Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
+               Wherein to dwell;
+     A little house, whose humble roof
+               Is weather proof;
+     Under the spars of which I lie
+               Both soft and dry;
+     Where thou, my chamber for to ward,
+               Hast set a guard
+     Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
+               Me, while I sleep.
+     Low is my porch, as is my fate;
+               Both void of state;
+     And yet the threshold of my door
+               Is worn by th' poor,
+     Who thither come, and freely get
+               Good words, or meat.
+     Like as my parlor, so my hall
+               And kitchen's small;
+     A little buttery, and therein
+               A little bin,
+     Which keeps my little loaf of bread
+               Unchipt, unflead;
+     Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
+               Make me a fire,
+     Close by whose living coal I sit,
+               And glow like it.
+     Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
+               The pulse is thine,
+     And all those other bits that be
+               There placed by thee;
+     The worts, the purslain, and the mess
+               Of water-cress,
+     Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;
+               And my content
+     Makes those, and my belovèd beet,
+               To be more sweet.
+     'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
+               With guiltless mirth,
+     And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,
+               Spiced to the brink.
+     Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
+               That soils my land,
+     And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
+               Twice ten for one;
+     Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
+               Her egg each day;
+     Besides, my healthful ewes to bear
+               Me twins each year;
+     The while the conduits of my kine
+               Run cream, for wine:
+     All these, and better, thou dost send
+               Me, to this end,--
+     That I should render, for my part,
+               A thankful heart;
+     Which, fired with incense, I resign,
+               As wholly thine;
+     --But the acceptance, that must be,
+               My Christ, by Thee.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT HERRICK was born in Cheapside, London, August 20, 1591. He was
+educated at Cambridge, and in 1629, having taken orders, was presented
+to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire. From this living he was
+ejected by the Long Parliament in 1648, and, going up to London, he
+united himself with some of his former associates and entered upon a
+career not altogether creditable to his profession of parson. At the
+restoration of Charles II. he was returned to his vicarage, where he
+remained until his death in 1674. His best poems are included in the
+collection entitled "Hesperides, or Works Humane and Divine," published
+in 1648, and dedicated to "the most illustrious and most hopeful Prince
+Charles." The "Argument" prefixed to this collection very prettily
+describes the character of the pieces which it contains:
+
+     "I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
+      Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;
+      I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
+      Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.
+      I write of Youth, of Love;--and have access
+      By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;
+      I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,
+      Of balm, of oil, of spice, of ambergris.
+      I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write
+      How roses first came red, and lilies white.
+      I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
+      The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King;
+      I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall
+      Of Heaven,--and hope to have it after all."
+
+"Herrick's best things," says Robert Buchanan, "are his poems in praise
+of the country life, and his worst things are his epigrams. His
+gladsome, mercurial temper had a great deal to do with the composition
+of his best lyrics; for the parson of Dean Prior was no philosopher, and
+his lightest, airiest verses are the best. His was a happy, careless
+nature, throwing off verses out of the fulness of a joyous heart,
+rioting in a pleasant, sunny element."
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Waller.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+     Go, lovely Rose,
+     Tell her that wastes her time and me,
+     That now she knows
+     When I resemble her to thee
+     How sweet and fair she seems to be.
+
+     Tell her that's young,
+     And shuns to have her graces spied,
+     That had'st thou sprung
+     In deserts where no men abide,
+     Thou must have uncommended died.
+
+     Small is the worth
+     Of beauty from the light retired;
+     Bid her come forth,
+     Suffer herself to be desired,
+     And not blush so to be admired.
+
+     Then die, that she
+     The common fate of all things rare
+     May read in thee,
+     How small a part of time they share
+     Who are so wondrous sweet and fair.
+
+
+
+
+OF ENGLISH VERSE.
+
+
+     Poets may boast, as safely vain,
+     Their works shall with the world remain:
+     Both bound together, live or die,
+     The verses and the prophecy.
+
+     But who can hope his line should long
+     Last, in a daily-changing tongue?
+     While they are new, envy prevails;
+     And as that dies our language fails.
+
+     When architects have done their part,
+     The matter may betray their art:
+     Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,
+     Soon brings a well-built palace down.
+
+     Poets, that lasting marble seek,
+     Must carve in Latin or in Greek:
+     We write in sand, our language grows,
+     And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.
+
+     Chaucer his sense can only boast,
+     The glory of his numbers lost!
+     Years have defac't his matchless strain,
+     And yet he did not sing in vain.
+
+     The beauties which adorn'd that age,
+     The shining subjects of his rage,
+     Hoping they should immortal prove,
+     Rewarded with success his love.
+
+     This was the gen'rous poet's scope,
+     And all an English pen can hope;
+     To make the fair approve his flame,
+     That can so far extend their fame.
+
+     Verse thus design'd has no ill fate,
+     If it arrive but at the date
+     Of fading beauty, if it prove
+     But as long-liv'd as present love.
+
+
+
+
+ON A GIRDLE.
+
+
+     That which her slender waist confin'd
+     Shall now my joyful temples bind;
+     No monarch but would give his crown
+     His arms might do what this has done.
+
+     It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
+     The pale which held that lovely deer:
+     My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
+     Did all within this circle move!
+
+     A narrow compass! and yet there
+     Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:
+     Give me but what this riband bound,
+     Take all the rest the sun goes round.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND WALLER, whose poetry is noticeable because he was the first
+English versifier to adopt the French fashion of writing in couplets,
+was born in Warwickshire in 1605. He was elected to Parliament at the
+age of seventeen, and was a member of that body during the greater part
+of his life. At the beginning of the difficulties between the king and
+the Parliament, he gained some notoriety by his opposition to the
+former, but when the Civil War broke out he attached himself to the
+Royalist cause. In 1643, being convicted of complicity in a plot against
+Parliament, he was fined £10,000 and imprisoned for twelve months. After
+his release he went to France; but in 1653 he returned to England and
+became reconciled to the new government, writing, soon afterward, "A
+Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the present Greatness and joint
+Interest of his Highness and this Nation." At the Restoration he eagerly
+declared allegiance to Charles II., and wrote a congratulatory ode on
+that monarch's return. He became a court favorite, noted for his wit,
+was made provost of Eton, and returned to his old place in Parliament.
+He died October 21, 1687. The first edition of his poems was published
+in 1645, and from that time to the close of the seventeenth century he
+was quite generally regarded as the greatest of English poets. At the
+present time there are few writers so little considered as he.
+
+Waller may be regarded as the founder of the classical school of English
+poetry, in which Dryden and Pope excelled, and which remained in the
+ascendency for more than a century after his death. "The excellence and
+dignity of rhyme," says Dryden, "were never fully known till Mr. Waller
+taught it; he first made writing easily an art, first showed us to
+conclude the sense, most commonly, in distichs, which in the verse of
+those before him runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is
+out of breath to overtake it."
+
+And Dr. Johnson says: "He certainly very much excelled in smoothness
+most of the writers who were living when his poetry commenced. But he
+was rather smooth than strong: of the 'full resounding line' which Pope
+attributes to Dryden, he has given very few examples. The general
+character of his poetry is elegance and gaiety. He seems neither to have
+had a mind much elevated by nature, nor amplified by learning. His
+thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
+life would easily supply."
+
+
+
+
+Ben Jonson.
+
+
+
+
+AN ODE TO HIMSELF.
+
+
+     Where dost Thou careless lie
+         Buried in ease and sloth?
+     Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;
+     And this security,
+         It is the common moth
+     That eats on wits and arts, and [so] destroys them both.
+
+     Are all the Aonian{1} springs
+         Dried up? lies Thespia waste?
+     Doth Clarius'{2} harp want strings,
+     That not a nymph now sings;
+         Or droop they as disgrac'd,
+     To see their seats and bowers by chattering pies{3} defac'd?
+
+     If hence{4} thy silence be,
+         As 'tis too just a cause,
+     Let this thought quicken thee:
+     Minds that are great and free
+         Should not on fortune pause;
+     'Tis crown enough to virtue{5} still, her own applause.
+
+     What though the greedy fry
+         Be taken with false baits
+     Of worded balladry,
+     And think it poesy?
+         They die with their conceits,
+     And only piteous scorn upon their folly waits.
+
+     Then take in hand thy lyre;
+         Strike in thy proper strain;
+     With Japhet's line,{6} aspire
+     Sol's chariot for new fire,
+         To give the world again:
+     Who aided him, will thee, the issue of Jove's brain.{7}
+
+     And, since our dainty age
+         Cannot endure reproof,
+     Make not thyself a page
+     To that strumpet the stage;
+         But sing high and aloof,
+     Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.{8}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem is found in the collection of miscellaneous pieces, by Ben
+Jonson, entitled "Underwoods." The poet reproaches himself for his own
+indolence.
+
+1. =Aonian springs.= The fountain Aganippe, situated in Aonia, was much
+frequented by the Muses, who were therefore sometimes called "Aonides."
+They were also called _Thespiades_, because Mount Helicon, one of their
+favored resorts, was in the vicinity of Thespia, and was itself named
+"Thespia rupes."
+
+2. =Clarius.= The name applied to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at
+Clarus, on the Ionian coast.
+
+3. =pies.= Magpies, "who make sound without sense."
+
+4. =hence.= For this reason.
+
+5. =virtue . . . her own applause.= Compare:
+
+     "Virtue is her own reward."--_Dryden_, _Tyrannic Love_.
+
+     "Virtue, a reward to itself."--_Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+     "Virtue is its own reward."--_Prior_, _Imitations of Horace_.
+
+6. =Japhet's line.= The line of Iapetus, the father of Prometheus, who
+stole fire from the chariot of the sun.
+
+7. =issue of Jove's brain.= Athene, or Minerva.
+
+8. "Safe from the slanderer and the fool."
+
+
+
+
+TO CYNTHIA.
+
+
+     Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
+       Now the sun is laid to sleep;
+     Seated in thy silver chair,
+       State in wonted manner keep;
+     Hesperus entreats thy light,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Earth, let not thy envious shade
+       Dare itself to interpose;
+     Cynthia's shining orb was made
+       Heaven to clear, when day did close;
+     Bless us then with wished sight,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
+       And thy crystal-shining quiver;
+     Give unto the flying heart
+       Space to breathe, how short soever;
+     Thou that mak'st a day of night,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE
+HATH LEFT US.
+
+
+     To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
+     Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;{1}
+     While I confess thy writings to be such,
+     As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
+     'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
+     Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
+     For seeliest{2} ignorance on these may light,
+     Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
+     Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
+     The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
+     Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
+     And think to ruin where it seemed to praise.
+     But thou art proof against them and, indeed,
+     Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.
+     I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!
+     The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
+     My SHAKESPEARE rise! I will not lodge thee by
+     Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
+     A little further, to make thee a room:{3}
+     Thou art a monument without a tomb,
+     And art alive still while thy book doth live,
+     And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
+     That I not mix thee so my brain excuses,--
+     I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
+     For if I thought my judgment were of years,
+     I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
+     And tell how far thou didst our Lyly{4} outshine,
+     Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.
+     And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
+     From thence to honor thee I would not seek
+     For names, but call forth thund'ring Æschylus,{5}
+     Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
+     Pacuvius, Accius,{6} him of Cordova dead,
+     To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,
+     And shake a stage; or when thy socks{7} were on,
+     Leave thee alone for a comparison
+     Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
+     Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
+     Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,
+     To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
+     He was not of an age, but for all time!
+     And all the Muses still were in their prime,
+     When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
+     Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
+     Nature herself was proud of his designs,
+     And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,
+     Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
+     As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
+     The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
+     Neat Terence, witty Plautus,{8} now not please;
+     But antiquated and deserted lie,
+     As they were not of Nature's family.
+     Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art,
+     My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
+     For though the poet's matter nature be,
+     His art doth give the fashion; and that he{9}
+     Who casts to write a living line, must sweat
+     (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
+     Upon the Muses' anvil, turn the same,
+     And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
+     Or for the laurel he may gain to scorn;
+     For a good poet's made, as well as born.
+     And such wert thou! Look, how the father's face
+     Lives in his issue, even so the race
+     Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines
+     In his well-turnèd and true filèd lines,
+     In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
+     As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
+     Sweet Swan of Avon!{10} what a sight it were
+     To see thee in our waters yet appear,
+     And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
+     That so did take Eliza and our James!
+     But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere{11}
+     Advanced, and made a constellation there!
+     Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage
+     Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage,
+     Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,
+     And despairs day but for thy volume's light.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was prefixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, 1623,
+and is also printed in Ben Jonson's "Underwoods."
+
+1. The meaning of these two lines would seem to be: "To show that I am
+not envious, Shakespeare, of thy name, I thus write fully of thy works
+and fame."
+
+2. =seeliest.= Silliest, simplest. From A.-S. _saelig_, foolish. See note
+23, page 190.
+
+3. In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakespeare, beginning:
+
+     "Renownèd Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
+      To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lie
+      A little nearer Spenser, to make room
+      For Shakespear in your threefold, fourfold tomb."
+
+4. =Lyly, Kyd, Marlowe.= Contemporaries of Shakespeare. See Biographical
+Dictionary.
+
+5. =Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles.= The founders of the Greek
+tragical drama.
+
+6. =Pacuvius, Accius.= Celebrated Roman tragic poets.
+
+=him of Cordova.= Seneca, the great rhetorician, was born at Cordova, in
+Spain, B.C. 61.
+
+7. =socks were on.= The socks indicated comedy, and the buskins tragedy.
+Compare Milton's "L'Allegro," 131:
+
+     "Then to the well-trod stage anon,
+      If Jonson's learned sock be on,
+      Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
+      Warble his native wood-note wild."
+
+Also, "Il Penseroso," 97. See note on _buskin_, page 139.
+
+8. =Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus.= Ancient writers of comedy.
+
+9. =that he.= That man.
+
+10. =Swan of Avon.= So Cowper calls Virgil "the Mantuan swan."
+
+11. =hemisphere.= The celestial hemisphere.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+BEN JONSON was born in Westminster, in 1573. His early life was full of
+hard and varied experiences. He was educated at Westminster School, and
+entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Being obliged to leave his
+university course unfinished, he worked for a time with his step-father
+as a brick-layer. At the age of eighteen he enlisted as a volunteer in
+the Low Countries; but in 1596 he settled in London, as a playwright.
+His first comedy, "Every Man in his Humour," did not meet with immediate
+success. It was remodelled, at Shakespeare's suggestion, and when
+afterwards presented was received with marked favor. His first tragedy,
+"Sejanus," was acted in 1603. His masques, of which there are
+thirty-six, were written during the reign of James I. His miscellaneous
+works, embracing a variety of odes, elegies, epigrams, and other lyrics
+and epistles, are included in two collections, the first of which,
+called _The Forest_, was published in 1616, and the second posthumously,
+in 1641. He died in London, August 6, 1637.
+
+One of the last and most beautiful of Jonson's dramas is the unfinished
+pastoral comedy, "The Sad Shepherd." It was written while in the
+sick-chamber, with a keen sense and remembrance of the disappointments
+which had followed him through life; and to these he touchingly refers
+in the prologue:
+
+     "He that hath feasted you these forty years,
+      And fitted fables for your finer ears,
+      Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;
+      Yet you, with patience, hearkening more and more,
+      At length have grown up to him, and made known
+      The working of his pen is now your own:
+      He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,
+      To hear him this once more, but sit awake.
+      And though he now present you with such wool
+      As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,
+      He hopes when it is made up into cloth,
+      Not the most curious head here will be loth
+      To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,
+      To match or those of Sicily or Greece.
+      His scene is Sherwood, and his play a tale
+      Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale
+      Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast;
+      Where, by the casual absence of one guest,
+      The mirth is troubled much, and in one man
+      As much of sadness shown as passion can."
+
+Robert Herrick wrote of him thus:
+
+                 "Ah Ben!
+               Say how or when
+               Shall we, thy guests,
+           Meet at those lyric feasts,
+               Made at the Sun,
+           The Dog, the Triple Tun;
+           Where we such clusters had,
+         As made us nobly wild, not mad?
+           And yet each verse of thine
+     Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
+
+                 "My Ben!
+               Or come again,
+               Or send to us
+           Thy wit's great overplus;
+               But teach us yet
+           Wisely to husband it,
+           Lest we that talent spend;
+         And having once brought to an end
+           That precious stock,--the store
+     Of such a wit the world should have no more."
+
+
+
+
+The Sixteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In fifty-two years, without counting the drama, two hundred and
+thirty-three poets are enumerated, of whom forty have genius or
+talent. . . . What is this condition which gives rise to so universal a
+taste for poetry? What is it breathes life into their books? How happens
+it, that amongst the least, in spite of pedantrie, awkwardnesses, we
+meet with brilliant pictures and genuine love-cries? How happens it,
+that when this generation was exhausted, true poetry ended in England,
+as true painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the
+mind came and passed away,--that, namely, of instinctive and creative
+conception. These men had new senses, and no theories in their
+heads. . . . They are happy in contemplating beautiful things, and wish
+only that they should be the most beautiful possible. They do not excite
+themselves to express moral or philosophical ideas. They wish to enjoy
+through the imagination, through the eyes, like those Italian nobles,
+who, at the same time, were so captivated by fine colors and forms, that
+they covered with paintings not only their rooms and their churches, but
+the lids of their chests and the saddles of their horses. . . . Think
+what poetry was likely to spring from them, how superior to common
+events, how free from literal imitation, how smitten with ideal beauty,
+how capable of creating a world beyond our sad world._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Sixteenth Century.
+
+=Sir Thomas Wyatt= (1503-1542). See biographical note, page 252.
+
+=Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey= (1517-1547). See biographical note, page
+252.
+
+=George Gascoigne= (1536-1577). "The Steel Glass"; "The Tragedy of
+Iocaste."
+
+=Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst= (1536-1608). "The Induction to the
+Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc."
+
+=Edmund Spenser= (1552-1598). See biographical note, page 245.
+
+=Sir Philip Sidney= (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short
+poems.
+
+=Thomas Watson= (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of
+Love"; "Meliboeus"; "The Tears of Fancie."
+
+=John Lyly= (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's
+Metamorphosis."
+
+=Robert Greene= (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Christopher Marlowe= (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Thomas Lodge= (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=William Warner= (1550-1609). "Albion's England"; "Pan, his Syrinx or
+Pipe."
+
+=William Shakespeare= (1564-1616). See note, page 221.
+
+=Samuel Daniel= (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the two
+Houses of York and Lancaster."
+
+=Sir Walter Raleigh= (1552-1618). Short poems.
+
+=George Chapman= (1559-1634). Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and "Homer's
+Odyssey."
+
+=Michael Drayton= (1563-1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars"; "The
+Battle of Agincourt."
+
+=Joseph Hall= (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.
+
+=Sir John Davies= (    -1626). "Nosce Teipsum."
+
+=John Donne= (1573-1631). Short poems.
+
+
+
+
+William Shakespeare.
+
+
+
+
+VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.
+
+[FROM "VENUS AND ADONIS."]
+
+
+     "Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,
+     But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
+     O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is
+     With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
+       Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
+       Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.
+
+     "On his bow-back he hath a battle set
+     Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
+     His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
+     His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
+       Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
+       And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.
+
+     "His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
+     Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
+     His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
+     Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
+       The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
+       As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.
+
+     "Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
+     To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
+     Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
+     Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
+       But having thee at vantage,--wondrous dread!
+       Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.
+
+     "O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
+     Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
+     Come not within his danger by thy will;
+     They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
+       When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
+       I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.
+
+     "But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;
+     Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
+     Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,
+     Or at the roe which no encounter dare:
+       Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
+       And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.
+
+     "And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
+     Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
+     How he outruns the wind and with what care
+     He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
+       The many musets through the which he goes
+       Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
+
+     "Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
+     To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
+     And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
+     To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,
+       And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:
+       Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:
+
+     "For there his smell with others being mingled,
+     The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
+     Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
+     With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
+       Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
+       As if another chase were in the skies.
+
+     "By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
+     Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
+     To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
+     Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
+       And now his grief may be compared well
+       To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.
+
+     "Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
+     Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
+     Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,
+     Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
+       For misery is trodden on by many,
+       And being low never relieved by any."
+
+
+
+
+A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.
+
+[FROM "CYMBELINE."]
+
+
+     Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
+       And Phoebus 'gins arise,
+     His steeds to water at those springs
+       On chaliced flowers that lies;
+     And winking Mary-buds begin
+       To ope their golden eyes:
+     With everything that pretty is,
+       My lady sweet, arise:
+         Arise, arise.
+
+
+
+
+SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.
+
+[FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]
+
+
+     Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
+       Men were deceivers ever,
+     One foot in sea and one on shore,
+       To one thing constant never:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+     Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
+       Of dumps so dull and heavy;
+     The fraud of men was ever so,
+       Since summer first was leafy:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+
+
+
+SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.
+
+[SONNET XXXIII.]
+
+
+     Full many a glorious morning have I seen
+       Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
+     Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
+       Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
+     Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
+       With ugly rack on his celestial face,
+     And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
+       Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
+     Even so my sun one early morn did shine
+       With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;
+     But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
+       The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
+     Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
+     Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.
+
+
+
+
+THE WORLD'S WAY.
+
+[SONNET LXVI.]
+
+
+     Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,--
+       As, to behold desert a beggar born,
+     And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
+       And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
+     And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,
+       And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
+     And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
+       And strength by limping sway disabled,
+     And art made tongue-tied by authority,
+       And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
+     And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
+       And captive Good attending captain Ill:
+     Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,--
+     Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and
+died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic
+compositions. His two narrative poems, "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape
+of Lucrece," were published in 1593 and 1594, before any of his plays
+had been printed. They may be regarded as companion pieces, written in
+the same style and distinguished by similar characteristics.
+
+"A couple of ice-houses," says Dowden, "these two poems of Shakespeare
+have been called by Hazlitt; 'they are,' he says, 'as hard, as
+glittering, as cold.' Cold indeed they will seem to any one who listens
+to hear in them the natural cry of human passion. But the paradox is
+true, that for a young poet of Elizabeth's age to be natural, direct,
+simple, would have been indeed unnatural. He was most happy when most
+fantastical; he spun a shining web to catch conceits inevitably as a
+spider casts his thread; the quick-building wit was itself warm while
+erecting its ice-houses." Coleridge says of the "Venus and Adonis" that
+its most obvious excellence "is the perfect sweetness of the
+versification; its adaptation to the subject; and the power displayed in
+varying the march of the words without passing into a loftier and more
+majestic rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the
+propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant."
+
+Shakespeare's "Sonnets" were published in 1609. Concerning the origin,
+purpose, and interpretation of these poems, many widely different
+theories have been proposed, "Some have looked on them as one poem."
+says Fleay; "some as several poems--of groups of sonnets; some as
+containing a separate poem in each sonnet. They have been supposed to be
+written in Shakespeare's own person, or in the character of another, or
+of several others; to be autobiographical or heterobiographical or
+allegorical; to have been addressed to Lord Southampton, to Sir William
+Herbert, to his own wife, to Lady Rich, to his child, to himself, to his
+Muse." The safest and wisest course seems to be, first to regard each of
+the one hundred and fifty-four sonnets as a poem complete in itself, and
+after studying whatever it may contain of art, or beauty, or truth, then
+to discover, if possible, its relationship to those which precede or
+follow it in the series.
+
+Of the other poems written by Shakespeare, mention should be made of
+"The Passionate Pilgrim" (1559), "The Phoenix and the Turtle" (1601), "A
+Lover's Complaint," published in the same volume with the "Sonnets," and
+the few exquisite little songs scattered through his plays.
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Spenser.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAVE OF MAMMON.
+
+     Guyon findes Mammon in a delve{1}
+       Sunning his threasure hore{2};
+     Is by him tempted, and led downe
+       To see his secrete store.
+
+
+       As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,
+     That to a stedfast starre{3} his course hath bent,
+     When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have
+     The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,{4}
+     And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,{5}
+     Upon his card and compas firmes{6} his eye,
+     The maysters of his long experiment,
+     And to them does the steddy helme apply,
+     Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:
+
+       So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,
+     Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
+     Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;
+     And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes
+     Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.
+     So, long he yode,{7} yet no adventure found,
+     Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes{8};
+     For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,
+     That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.
+
+       At last he came unto a gloomy glade,
+     Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
+     Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
+     An uncouth, salvage,{9} and uncivile wight,
+     Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;
+     His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,
+     His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,{10}
+     His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard
+     In smythes fire-spitting{11} forge, and nayles like clawes appear.
+
+       His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
+     Was underneath enveloped with gold;
+     Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
+     Well yet appeared to have beene of old
+     A worke of rich entayle{12} and curious mould,
+     Woven with antickes{13} and wyld ymagery;
+     And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
+     And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
+     And covetous desire with his huge threasury.
+
+       And round about him lay on every side
+     Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;
+     Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
+     Of Mulcibers{14} devouring element;
+     Some others were new driven, and distent
+     Into great Ingowes and to wedges square;
+     Some in round plates withouten moniment{15};
+     But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
+     The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.
+
+       Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
+     And haste he rose for to remove aside
+     Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,
+     And downe them poured through an hole full wide
+     Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.
+     But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
+     His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;
+     And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,
+     Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:
+
+       "What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)
+     That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
+     And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart
+     From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"
+     Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,
+     In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,
+     That darest view my direfull countenaunce,
+     I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,
+     To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.
+
+       "God of the world and worldlings I me call,
+     Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
+     That of my plenty poure out unto all,
+     And unto none my graces do envye:
+     Riches, renowme, and principality,
+     Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,
+     For which men swinck{16} and sweat incessantly,
+     Fro me do flow into an ample flood,
+     And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.
+
+       "Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,{17}
+     At thy commaund lo! all these mountaines bee:
+     Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,
+     All these may not suffise, there shall to thee
+     Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."
+     "Mammon," (said he) "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,
+     And idle offers of thy golden fee;
+     To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine
+     Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.
+
+       "Me ill besits,{18} that in derdoing, armes
+     And honours suit my vowd daies do spend,
+     Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,
+     With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;
+     Regard of worldly mucke{19} doth fowly blend,
+     And low abase the high heroicke spright,{20}
+     That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend:
+     Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight;
+     Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."
+
+       "Vaine glorious Elfe," (saide he) "doest not thou weet,{21}
+     That money can thy wantes at will supply?
+     Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet,
+     It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;
+     And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
+     Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne
+     Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,
+     And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,
+     And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?"
+
+       "All otherwise" (saide he) "I riches read,
+     And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;
+     First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,
+     And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,
+     Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse:
+     Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,
+     Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,
+     Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize,
+     That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize.
+
+       "Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;
+     But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,
+     And loyall truth to treason doest incline:
+     Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,
+     The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround;
+     The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,
+     And purple robe gored with many a wound,
+     Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent;
+     So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.
+
+       "Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse
+     The private state, and make the life unsweet:
+     Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,
+     And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,
+     Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet."
+     Then Mammon wexing wroth: "And why then," sayd,
+     "Are mortall men so fond{22} and undiscreet
+     So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,
+     And having not complaine, and having it upbrayd?"
+
+       "Indeede," (quoth he) "through fowle intemperaunce
+     Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise;
+     But would they thinke with how small allowaunce
+     Untroubled Nature doth herselfe suffise,
+     Such superfluities they would despise,
+     Which with sad cares empeach{23} our native joyes.
+     At the well-head the purest streames arise;
+     But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,
+     And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.{24}
+
+       "The antique world, in his first flowring youth,
+     Fownd no defect in his Creators grace;
+     But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,{25}
+     The gifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:
+     Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;
+     But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,
+     Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace
+     To all licentious lust, and gan exceed
+     The measure of her meane and naturall first need.
+
+       "Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe
+     Of his great Grandmother{26} with steele to wound,
+     And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe
+     With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd
+     Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,
+     Of which the matter of his huge desire
+     And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;
+     Then avarice gan through his veines inspire
+     His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."
+
+       "Sonne," (said he then) "lett be{27} thy bitter scorne,
+     And leave the rudenesse of that antique age
+     To them that liv'd therein, in state forlorne:
+     Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage{28}
+     Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
+     If then thee list my offred grace to use,
+     Take what thou please of all this surplusage;
+     If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:
+     But refused doe not afterward accuse."
+
+       "Me list{29} not" (said the Elfin knight) "receave
+     Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;
+     Ne wote but thou didst these goods bereave
+     From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,
+     Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott."
+     "Perdy,"{30} (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew,
+     Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;
+     But safe I have them kept in secret mew
+     From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.
+
+       "What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold
+     So huge a masse, and hide from heaven's eie?
+     Or where hast thou thy wonne,{31} that so much gold
+     Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"
+     "Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by
+     Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd
+     A darkesome way, which no man could descry,
+     That deep descended through the hollow grownd,
+     And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.
+
+       At length they came into a larger space,
+     That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne;
+     Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
+     That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne.{32}
+     By that wayes side there sate internall Payne,
+     And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:
+     The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,
+     The other brandished a bloody knife;
+     And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.
+
+       On thother side in one consort there sate
+     Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,
+     Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;
+     But gnawing Gealousy, out of their sight
+     Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;
+     And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,
+     And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:
+     Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye,
+     And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.
+
+       And over them sad Horror with grim hew
+     Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;
+     And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew,
+     The hatefull messengers of heavy things,
+     Of death and dolor telling sad tidings,
+     Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,
+     A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,
+     That hart of flint asonder could have rifte;
+     Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.
+
+       All these before the gates of Pluto lay,
+     By whom they passing spake unto them nought;
+     But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way
+     Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.
+     At last him to a little dore he brought,
+     That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,
+     Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:
+     Betwixt them both was but a little stride,
+     That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.
+
+       Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,
+     Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
+     For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware
+     Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:
+     Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward
+     Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;
+     For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;{33}
+     Therefore his house is unto his annext:
+     Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext.
+
+       So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore
+     To him did open and affoorded way:
+     Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,
+     Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay.
+     Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way
+     Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept
+     An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,
+     The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,
+     And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.
+
+       Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,
+     If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,
+     Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,
+     Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye,
+     Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye
+     He over him did hold his cruell clawes,
+     Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,
+     And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,
+     If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes.
+
+       That houses forme within was rude and strong,
+     Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,
+     From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong
+     Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte,
+     And with rich metall loaded every rifte,
+     That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;
+     And over them Arachne high did lifte
+     Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,
+     Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett.
+
+       Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,
+     But overgrowne with dust and old decay,
+     And hid in darkenes, that none could behold
+     The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day
+     Did never in that house it selfe display,
+     But a faint shadow of uncertain light:
+     Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away,
+     Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night,
+     Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.
+
+       In all that rowme was nothing to be seene
+     But huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,
+     All bard with double bends, that none could weene
+     Them to efforce by violence or wrong:
+     On every side they placed were along;
+     But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,
+     And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;
+     Whose lives, it seemed, whilome{34} there were shed,
+     And their vile carcases now left unburied.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is a selection from Spenser's great poem, "The Faerie Queene,"
+being a part of the seventh canto of book second. "The Faerie Queene"
+was published in 1590, and comprises six books of twelve cantos each.
+The first book is the Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the
+second, of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, or
+Chastity; the fourth, of Cambel and Triamond, or Friendship; the fifth,
+of Artegall, or Justice; the sixth, of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. It was
+Spenser's design that the complete work should contain twelve books, but
+of the remaining part only a fragment of one book, the "Legend of
+Constance," is in existence.
+
+The versification of the "Faerie Queene" is based upon the _ottava
+rima_, made so popular in Italian poetry by Tasso and Ariosto. Instead
+of eight lines to a stanza, however, there are nine. The first eight
+lines are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter, the stanza thus
+closing with a lingering cadence which adds greatly to the melody of the
+verse. This is the "Spenserian stanza," a form of versification very
+popular with many of our later poets.
+
+"If you love poetry well enough to enjoy it for its own sake," says
+Leigh Hunt, "let no evil reports of his _allegory_ deter you from an
+acquaintance with Spenser, for great will be your loss. His allegory
+itself is but one part allegory and nine parts beauty and enjoyment;
+sometimes an excess of flesh and blood. His wholesale poetical belief,
+mixing up all creeds and mythologies, but with less violence, resembles
+that of Dante and Boccaccio. His versification is almost perpetual
+honey."
+
+1. =delve.= Dell. From A.-S. _delfan_, delve, to dig. Each canto of the
+"Faerie Queene" is introduced by a four-line doggerel like this,
+containing the argument, or a brief summary of the narrative,--in
+imitation, probably, of Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso."
+
+2. =hore.= Sordid, miserly. Probably from A.-S. _harian_, to become mouldy
+or musty. The word _hoard_ may be traced to a similar root.
+
+3. =stedfast starre.= The pole-star. See "Faerie Queene," I, ii, 1:
+
+     "By this the northerne wagoner had set
+      His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre
+      That was in ocean waves yet never wet,
+      But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
+      To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre."
+
+4. =yblent.= Blinded.
+
+5. =dreriment.= Darkness.
+
+6. =firmes.= Fixes, makes firm.
+
+7. =yode.= Went. The past participle of the old verb _yede_, from A.-S.
+_gangead_, to go, to proceed.
+
+8. =reedes.= Considers. From A.-S. _ræd_, counsel, advice; O. E. _rede_.
+
+9. =salvage.= Savage, wild. Fr. _sauvage_. From Lat. _silva_, forest. See
+"Faerie Queene," IV, v, 19:
+
+     "For all his armour was like salvage weed
+      With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed
+      With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit
+      For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed
+      His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,
+      _Salvagesse sans finesse_,[233:1] shewing secret wit."
+
+=wight.= Person. From A.-S. _wiht_.
+
+     "For every wight that loved chevalrie."
+                           --_Chaucer_, _Canterbury Tales_, 2105.
+
+=griesly.= Dreadful. From A.-S. _grislic_; _agrisan_, to dread. Grisly.
+
+10. =bedight.= Covered. From _dight_, to dress, to deck. A.-S. _dihtan_.
+
+11. =fire-spitting.= "_Spett_ seems anciently to have more simply
+signified _disperse_, without the low idea which we at present affix to
+it."--_Warton._
+
+12. =entayle.= Sculpture, carving. Compare _intaglio_.
+
+13. =antickes.= Odd, or fantastic, forms. From Lat, _antiquus_, ancient.
+
+14. =of Mulcibers devouring element.= By fire. Mulciber is a surname of
+Vulcan, "which seems to have been given him as an euphemism, that he
+might not consume the habitations and property of men, but kindly aid
+them in their pursuits."
+
+15. =withouten moniment.= Without superscription.
+
+16. =swinck.= Labor, drudge. A.-S. _swincan_, to toil.
+
+17. =sew.= Follow. From Fr. _suivre_.
+
+=deigne.= From Fr. _daigner_, to consider worthy. Opposed to _disdain_.
+
+18. =Me ill besits.= It ill becomes me.
+
+=derdoing.= Dare-doing; doing daring deeds.
+
+19. =worldly mucke.= "Filthy lucre."
+
+20. =spright.= Spirit.
+
+21. =weet.= Understand. From A.-S. _witan_, to know.
+
+22. =fond.= Foolish.
+
+23. =empeach.= Hinder. Fr. _empêcher_.
+
+24. =accloyes.= Chokes or clogs up. Observe how the poet carries out his
+metaphor of the "well-head," "the purest streames," "his braunching
+armes," and "the gentle wave."
+
+25. =unreproved truth.= Sincerity.
+
+26. =great Grandmother.= Mother Earth.
+
+27. =lett be.= Leave off; make an end of.
+
+28. =wage.= Pledge. Observe the relationship between this word and both
+_wager_ and _wages_.
+
+29. =Me list.= I wish. Compare _methinks_, _meseems_. From A.-S. _lystan_,
+to choose.
+
+     "The wind bloweth where it listeth."--_John_ iii. 8.
+
+=wote.= Understood. See note 21 above.
+
+30. =Perdy.= An old oath used to give emphasis to an assertion. From Fr.
+_par dieu_.
+
+31. =wonne.= Habitation. From A.-S. _wunian_, to dwell.
+
+32. =rayne.= Reign. The word is frequently used in the older poets for
+_realm_, or _region_.
+
+33. =next to Death is Sleepe.=
+
+     "How wonderful is Death!
+      Death and his brother Sleep!"
+                                     --_Shelley_, _Queen Mab_, I.
+
+34. =whilome.= At some time.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[233:1] Wildness without art.
+
+
+
+
+PROTHALAMION; OR, A SPOUSALL VERSE.
+
+IN HONOUR OF THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE OF THE TWO HONORABLE AND VERTUOUS
+LADIES, THE LADY ELIZABETH AND THE LADY KATHERINE SOMERSET, DAUGHTERS TO
+THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARLE OF WORCESTER, AND ESPOUSED TO THE TWO
+WORTHIE GENTLEMEN, M. HENRY GILFORD AND M. WILLIAM PETER, ESQUYERS.
+
+
+     Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre
+     Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play
+     A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
+     Hot Titans{1} beames, which then did glyster fayre;
+     When I, (whom sullein care,
+     Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
+     In princes court,{2} and expectation vayne
+     Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away
+     Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)
+     Walkt forth to ease my payne
+     Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes{3};
+     Whose rutty{4} bank, the which his river hemmes,
+     Was paynted all with variable flowers,
+     And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes
+     Fit to decke maydens bowres,
+     And crown their paramours
+     Against{5} the brydale-day, which is not long;
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,
+     A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,
+     All lovely daughters of the Flood{6} thereby,
+     With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,{7}
+     As each had been a bryde;
+     And each one had a little wicker basket,
+     Made of fine twigs, entrayled{8} curiously,
+     In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,{9}
+     And with fine fingers cropt{10} full feateously
+     The tender stalkes on hye.{11}
+     Of every sort which in that meadow grew,
+     They gathered some; the violet, pallid{12} blew,
+     The little dazie that at evening closes,
+     The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew,{13}
+     With store{14} of vermeil roses,
+     To deck their bridegroomes posies{15}
+     Against the brydale-day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     With that{16} I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
+     Come softly swimming downe along the lee{17};
+     Two fairer birds I yet did never see;
+     The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,
+     Did never whiter shew,
+     Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be
+     For love of Leda, whiter did appeare.
+     Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
+     Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near{18}:
+     So purely white they were,
+     That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
+     Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
+     To wet their silken feathers, least they might
+     Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,
+     And marre their beauties bright,
+     That shone as heavens light,
+     Against their brydale day which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Eftsoones{19} the Nymphes, which now had flowers their fill,
+     Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
+     As they came floating on the cristal flood;
+     Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still,
+     Their wondring eyes to fill;
+     Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,
+     Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme
+     Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
+     Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme;
+     For sure they did not seeme
+     To be begot of any earthly seede,
+     But rather angels, or of angels breede;
+     Yet were they bred of Somers-heat,{20} they say,
+     In sweetest season, when each flower and weede
+     The earth did fresh array;
+     So fresh they seem'd as day,
+     Even as their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
+     Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
+     That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild,
+     All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
+     And all the waves did strew,
+     That like old Peneus{21} waters they did seeme,
+     When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,
+     Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,
+     That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store,
+     Like a brydes chambre flore.
+     Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound
+     Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,
+     The which presenting all in trim array,
+     Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd
+     Whilst one did sing this lay,
+     Prepar'd against that day,
+     Against their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament
+     "And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower
+     "Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower,
+     "Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content
+     "Of your loves couplement;{22}
+     "And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love,
+     "With her heart-quelling Sonne{23} upon you smile,
+     "Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove
+     "All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile
+     "Forever to assoile.{24}
+     "Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord,
+     "And blessed plentie wait upon your bord{25};
+     "And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
+     "That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
+     "Which may your foes confound
+     "And make your ioyes redound
+     "Upon your brydale day, which is not long."
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     So ended she; and all the rest around
+     To her redoubled{26} that her undersong,
+     Which said, their brydale day should not be long:
+     And gentle Eccho from the neighbour{27} ground
+     Their accents did resound.
+     So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along
+     Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low,
+     As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,
+     Yet did by signes his glad affection show,
+     Making his streame run slow.
+     And all the foule which in his flood did dwell
+     Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell
+     The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend{28}
+     The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,
+     Did on those two attend,
+     And their best service lend
+     Against their wedding day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     At length they all to mery London came,
+     To mery London, my most kyndly nurse,{29}
+     That to me gave this lifes first native sourse,
+     Though from another place I take my name,
+     An house of auncient fame;
+     There when they came, whereas those bricky towres
+     The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde,
+     Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,{30}
+     There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,
+     Till they decayd through pride;
+     Next whereunto there standes a stately place,{31}
+     Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
+     Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
+     Whose want too well now feels my freendles case;{32}
+     But ah! here fits not well{33}
+     Old woes, but ioyes, to tell
+     Against the brydale daye, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer,{34}
+     Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder,
+     Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine{35} did thunder,
+     And Hercules two Pillors{36} standing neere
+     Did make to quake and feare:
+     Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie!
+     That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,
+     Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie,
+     And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
+     That promiseth the same;
+     That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,
+     Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes,
+     And great Elisaes glorious name may ring
+     Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,
+     Which some brave muse may sing
+     To ages following,
+     Upon the brydale day which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     From those high towers this noble lord issuing,
+     Like radiant Hesper,{37} when his golden hare
+     In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,
+     Descended to the rivers open vewing,
+     With a great train ensuing.
+     Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
+     Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
+     Beseeming well the bower of any queene,
+     With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
+     Fit for so goodly stature,
+     That like the Twins of Iove{38} they seem'd in sight,
+     Which decke the bauldricke{39} of the heavens bright;
+     They two forth pacing to the rivers side,
+     Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight;
+     Which,{40} at th' appointed tyde,
+     Each one did make his Bryde
+     Against their brydale day, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595.
+The word _prothalamium_ is from Gr. _pro_, for, and _thalamos_, a
+bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song
+than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written--earlier in the
+same year--the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing
+of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very
+ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad,"
+XVIII, 493:
+
+     "And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;
+      In one were marriage pomp and revelry,
+      And brides, in gay procession, through the streets
+      With blazing torches from their chambers borne,
+      While frequent rose the hymeneal song."
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38.
+
+1. =Titans.= The word is used for Helios, the son of the Titans, Hyperion
+and Thea. Observe that the apostrophe, as the sign of the possessive
+case, is never used by Spenser.
+
+=glyster.= Glisten, shine. From A.-S. _glisnian_, glow, or shine with a
+soft light.
+
+     "All that glisters is not gold."
+          --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act ii, sc. vii.
+
+     "Know one false step is ne'er retrieved . . .
+      Nor all that glisters gold."
+                             --_Gray_, _On a Favourite Cat, etc._
+
+=fayre.= Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage,
+but not current in Spenser's time.
+
+2. =princes court.= Spenser had had experience of the many bitter
+disappointments which befall him who seeks the favor of royalty. In
+"Mother Hubbard's Tale" he complains in this wise:
+
+     "Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
+      What hell it is in suing long to bide:
+      To lose good dayes that might be better spent;
+      To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
+      To speed today, to be put back tomorrow;
+      To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
+      To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;
+      To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;
+      To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
+      To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
+      To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne;
+      To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne."
+
+3. =silver streaming Themmes.= Sir John Denham's apostrophe to the Thames
+is well known:
+
+     "Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
+      My great example, as it is my theme!
+      Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
+      Strong without rage; without overflowing full."
+                                          --_Cooper's Hill_, 189.
+
+And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms:
+
+     "No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
+      No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear."
+                                         --_Windsor Forest_, 227.
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi.
+
+4. =rutty.= Rooty.
+
+5. =Against.= For, or in preparation for; to provide for. Compare Genesis
+xliii. 25: "And they made ready the present against Joseph came at
+noon." And Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act iii, sc. ii:
+
+     "I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."
+
+6. =Flood.= This word was often used, as here, to denote simply a river.
+Pope addresses the river Thames:
+
+     "Thou, too, great father of the British floods!"
+
+7. =all loose untyde.= Steevens says: "Brides formerly walked to church
+with their hair hanging loose behind."
+
+8. =entrayled.= Twisted, interlaced.
+
+9. =flasket.= A long, shallow basket. Not used here as the diminutive of
+_flask_. Hales says it is the name given by the fishermen of Cornwall to
+the vessel in which the fish are transferred from the seine to the
+"tuck-net."
+
+10. =cropt.= Gathered, Dutch _krappen_, to cut off.
+
+=feateously.= Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer:
+
+     "And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly."
+                                       --_Canterbury Tales_, 124.
+
+     "A chambre had he in that hostelrie
+      Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote."
+                                                 --_Ibid._, 3205.
+
+11. =on hye.= In haste. Probably the same as _hie_, haste.
+
+12. =pallid.= Pale.
+
+13. =primrose trew.= Compare Milton's "Lycidas," 142:
+
+     "The rathe primrose that forsaken dies."
+
+And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii;
+
+     "Pale primroses that die unmarried."
+
+14. =store.= Abundance.
+
+=vermeil.= Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun.
+
+15. =posies.= "Posy originally meant verses presented with a nosegay or a
+bunch of flowers, and hence the term came to be applied to the flowers
+themselves."
+
+16. =With that.= At the same time.
+
+=Swannes.= "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says:
+'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and
+their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their
+course.'"--_Knight's Cyclopedia of London._
+
+17. =lee.= Water, or river. See "Faerie Queene," V, ii, 19:
+
+     "His corps was carried downe along the lee,
+      Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned."
+
+Also, _Ibid._, IV, ii, 16:
+
+     "As when two warlike brigandines at sea,
+      With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,
+      Do meete together on the watry lea."
+
+The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in
+England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe.
+
+18. =nor nothing near.= In early English two negatives did not destroy
+each other, as now, but made the negation more emphatic.
+
+19. =Eftsoones.= Soon after. From A.-S. _eft_, after, and _sona_, soon.
+
+20. =Somers-heat.= The two ladies celebrated in this poem, it will be
+remembered, were Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset.
+
+21. The Peneus river, the most important stream in Thessaly, forces its
+way through the Vale of Tempe, between Mounts Ossa and Olympus, into the
+sea.
+
+22. =loves couplement.= Marriage.
+
+23. =heart-quelling Sonne.= Cupid.
+
+24. =assoile.= Free from, put off.
+
+     "Through long watch, and late daies weary toile,
+      She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile."
+                                   --_Faerie Queene_, III, i, 58.
+
+25. =bord.= "Bed" and "board" are two associated terms, very frequently
+so used, which imply the performance of the two acts necessary for the
+maintenance of life--sleeping and eating. See Shakespeare's "Comedy of
+Errors," Act v, sc. i:
+
+     "In bed he slept not for my urging it,
+      At board he fed not for my urging it."
+
+Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv:
+
+     "Wedding is great Juno's crown--
+      O blessed bond of board and bed!"
+
+26. =redoubled.= Repeated.
+
+=undersong.= Refrain, burden.
+
+27. =neighbour.= See note 10, on Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night."
+
+28. =shend.= Outshine, shame, disgrace. From A.-S. _scendan_.
+
+29. =my most kyndly nurse.= Although born in London, the poet was
+"descended from the ancient and honourable family of Spencer, of
+Althorpe in Northamptonshire."
+
+30. "When the order of the Knights Templar was suppressed in Edward the
+Second's reign, their London estate on the bank of the Thames was given
+over to the Knights of St. John; by these it was leased to the students
+of the Common Law, who, not finding a home at Cambridge or Oxford, were
+at that time in want of a habitation."--_Hales._
+
+31. =stately place.= This stood in the gardens where the Outer Temple
+should have been. In 1580 it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, and
+here Spenser was for a time entertained, as he asserts in the following
+line. The great lord whom he mentions was Leicester.
+
+32. "The want of whom I feel too well in my present friendless
+condition."
+
+33. =fits not well.= It is not proper.
+
+34. =nobler peer.= The Earl of Essex.
+
+35. Macaulay says of Lord Essex's expedition against Spain, in 1596,
+that it was "the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on
+the Continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed
+between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim."
+
+36. =Hercules two Pillors.= The rocky capes on either side of the Strait
+of Gibraltar. It was said that Hercules erected them to mark the western
+limit of his wanderings.
+
+37. =Hesper.= Hesperus was the evening star, also sometimes regarded as
+the morning star, and hence called by Homer the bringer of light. See
+note on Lucifer, page 80 and page 189.
+
+38. =Twins of Iove.= Castor and Pollux. Two heroic brothers who as a
+reward of their devotion to each other were placed among the stars in
+the constellation Gemini.
+
+39. =bauldricke.= Belt, girdle, or sash. The "bauldricke of the heavens"
+is the zodiac.
+
+40. =Which.= In early English this pronoun was very commonly used instead
+of _who_ when referring to persons.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND SPENSER was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated
+at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University,
+where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first
+poetical performances--translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay--were
+published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author.
+At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and
+Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students
+who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney
+at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the
+house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published,
+but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards
+Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as
+secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the
+exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his
+life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a
+grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he
+wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they
+were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh,
+who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he
+married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English
+settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and
+published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the
+same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his
+"Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and
+marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the
+half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely interrupted by the
+breaking out of an insurrection among the Irish. In 1598 Spenser's house
+was sacked and burned by the rebels, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that he and his family escaped with their lives. Indeed, it
+is stated, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that one little child
+perished in the flames. Spenser returned to London in poverty and great
+distress, and on the 16th of January, 1599, he died in King Street,
+Westminster. He was buried in the Abbey.
+
+Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says
+Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren
+than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton,
+Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as
+the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling
+him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to
+think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he
+became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said
+he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young.
+Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior
+writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made
+use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him."
+
+Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And
+Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he.
+
+With reference to the peculiar forms of language--comparatively obsolete
+even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed--which are so marked a
+characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose
+for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry,
+and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older
+forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as
+to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and
+dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his
+vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly,
+the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus
+of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language
+may have seemed the one language of English poetry."
+
+
+REFERENCES: Warton's _History of English Poetry_; Hazlitt's _Lectures on
+the English Poets_; Craik's _Spenser and his Poetry_; Morley's _English
+Writers_.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Wyatt.
+
+
+
+
+A LOVE SONG.
+
+THE LOVER COMPLAINETH OF THE UNKINDNESS OF HIS LOVE.
+
+
+     My lute, awake! perform the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And end that I have now begun:
+     And when this song is sung and past,
+     My lute! be still, for I have done.
+
+     As to be heard where ear is none;
+     As lead to grave in marble stone,
+     My song may pierce her heart as soon;
+     Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
+     No, no, my lute! for I have done.
+
+     The rock doth not so cruelly,
+     Repulse the waves continually,
+     As she my suit and affection:
+     So that I am past remedy;
+     Whereby my lute and I have done.
+
+     Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
+     Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
+     By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;
+     Think not he hath his bow forgot,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
+     That makest but game of earnest pain;
+     Trow not alone under the sun
+     Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     May chance thee lie withered and old
+     In winter nights, that are so cold,
+     Plaining in vain unto the moon;
+     Thy wishes then dare not be told:
+     Care then who list, for I have done.
+
+     And then may chance thee to repent
+     The time that thou hast lost and spent,
+     To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:
+     Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
+     And wish and want, as I have done.
+
+     Now cease, my lute! This is the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And ended is that we begun:
+     Now is thy song both sung and past;
+     My lute, be still, for I have done.
+
+
+
+
+THE COURTIER'S LIFE.
+
+
+     In court to serve, decked with fresh array,
+     Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast;
+     The life in banquets and sundry kinds of play,
+     Amid the press of worldly looks to waste:
+     Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste,
+       That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,
+       In prison joyes, fettered with chains of gold.
+
+
+
+
+The Earl of Surrey.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S "ÆNEID."
+
+
+     --At the threshold of her chamber door
+     The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend:
+     The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapped,
+     Chewing the foaming bit there fiercely stood.
+     Then issued she, awaited with great train,
+     Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroidered rich.
+     Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress
+     Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke
+     Buttoned with gold. The Trojans of her train
+     Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.
+     Æneas eke, the goodliest of the rout,
+     Makes one of them, and joineth close the throng.
+     Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,
+     His wint'ring place, and Xanthus, stood likewise,
+     To visit Delos his mother's mansion,
+     Repairing eft and furnishing her quire.
+     The Candians and the folk of Driopes,
+     With painted Agathyrsi shout and cry,
+     Environing the altars round about,
+     When that he walks upon Mount Cynthus' top,
+     His sparkled tress repressed with garlands soft
+     Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold,
+     His quiver and darts clattering behind his back--
+     So fresh and lusty did Æneas seem.
+     But to the hills and wild holts when they came
+     From the rock's top the driven savage rose.
+     So, from the hills above on the other side,
+     Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.
+     The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight,
+     Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.
+     The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed
+     Amids the plain, now pricks by them, by these;
+     And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind,
+     The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts,
+     Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written
+in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.
+
+
+
+
+A SONNET.
+
+DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE GERALDINE.
+
+
+     From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race;
+       Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat;
+     The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face
+       Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat:
+     Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast;
+       Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood:
+     From tender years, in Britain she doth rest
+       With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.
+     Hunsdon did first present her to my een:
+       Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight:
+     Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:
+       And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.
+     Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above;
+     Happy is he that can obtain her love.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.
+
+
+     Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest:
+       Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
+     And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
+       Such profit he by envy could obtain.
+
+     A head where wisdom mysteries did frame,
+       Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain,
+     As on a stithe where that some work of fame
+       Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.
+
+     A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;
+       That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
+     A mark, the which (unperfected for time)
+       Some may approach, but never none shall hit.
+
+     An eye whose judgment none effect could blind,
+       Friends to allure and foes to reconcile,
+     Whose piercing look did represent a mind
+       With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.
+
+     A heart where dread was never so imprest
+       To hide the thought that might the truth advance;
+     In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,
+       To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.
+
+     A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met,
+       Happy alas, too happy but for foes,
+     Lived, and ran the race that nature set
+       Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.
+
+     Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost;
+     The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.
+
+WYATT and SURREY are usually named together as the most illustrious
+poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins
+calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"
+he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of
+Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers--the period
+which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and
+Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they
+were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller,
+Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's
+translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "Æneid" (1552) is
+the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THOMAS WYATT was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was
+a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was
+knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of
+the same year he was sent as ambassador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was
+with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England
+he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in
+1542.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY, was born about 1517, and, like his friend
+Wyatt, passed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France
+in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its
+governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he
+was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of
+the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of
+high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal
+arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.
+
+
+
+
+Ballads.
+
+
+
+
+WALY, WALY.
+
+
+     O waly,{1} waly, up the bank,
+       O waly, waly, doun the brae,{2}
+     And waly, waly, yon burn-side,{3}
+       Where I and my love were wont to gae!
+     I lean'd my back unto an aik,
+       I thocht it was a trustie tree,
+     But first it bow'd and syne{4} it brak',--
+       Sae my true love did lichtlie{5} me.
+
+     O waly, waly, but love be bonnie
+       A little time while it is new!
+     But when it's auld it waxeth cauld,
+       And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.
+     O wherefore should I busk{6} my heid,
+       Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
+     For my true love has me forsook,
+       And says he'll never lo'e me mair.
+
+     Noo Arthur's Seat{7} sall be my bed,
+       The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me;
+     Saint Anton's well sall be my drink;
+       Since my true love's forsaken me.
+     Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
+       And shake the green leaves off the tree?
+     O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
+       For of my life I am wearie.
+
+     'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
+       Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,
+     'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;
+       But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
+     When we cam' in by Glasgow toun,
+       We were a comely sicht to see;
+     My love was clad in the black velvet,
+       And I mysel' in cramasie.
+
+     But had I wist before I kiss'd
+       That love had been so ill to win,
+     I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud,
+       And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.
+     Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
+       And set upon the nurse's knee;
+     An' I mysel' were dead and gane,
+       And the green grass growing over me!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give
+it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating
+to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The
+lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with
+those of Lord Douglas.
+
+1. =waly.= An interjection denoting grief.
+
+2. =brae.= Hillside.
+
+3. =burn-side.= Brook-side.
+
+4. =syne.= Then.
+
+5. =lichtlie.= Slight, undervalue.
+
+6. =busk.= Dress.
+
+7. =Arthur's Seat.= A hill near Edinburgh, at the foot of which is St.
+Anthony's well.
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATRICK SPENS.
+
+A SCOTTISH BALLAD.
+
+[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should
+have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland about 1285.]
+
+
+     The king sits in Dunfermline town,
+       Drinking the blude-red wine;
+     "O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
+       To sail this new ship of mine!"
+
+     O up and spake an eldern knight,
+       Sat at the king's right knee,--
+     "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
+       That ever sail'd the sea."
+
+     Our king has written a braid letter,
+       And seal'd it with his hand,
+     And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Was walking on the strand.
+
+     "To Noroway, to Noroway,
+       To Noroway o'er the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
+
+     The first word that Sir Patrick read,
+       Sae loud, loud laughed he;
+     The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
+       The tear blinded his e'e.
+
+     "O wha is this has done this deed,
+       And tauld the king o' me,
+     To send us out, at this time of the year,
+       To sail upon the sea?
+
+     "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
+       Our ship must sail the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis we must fetch her hame."
+
+     They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
+       Wi' a' the speed they may;
+     They hae landed in Noroway,
+       Upon a Wodensday.
+
+     They hadna been a week, a week,
+       In Noroway, but twae,
+     When that the lords o' Noroway
+       Began aloud to say,--
+
+     "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
+       And a' our queenis fee."
+     "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
+       Fu' loud I hear ye lie.
+
+     "For I brought as much white monie,
+       As gane my men and me,
+     And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,
+       Out o'er the sea wi' me.
+
+     "Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
+       Our gude ship sails the morn."
+     "Now, ever alake, my master dear,
+       I fear a deadly storm!
+
+     "I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
+       Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
+     And, if we gang to sea, master,
+       I fear we'll come to harm."
+
+     They had not sailed a league, a league,
+       A league but barely three,
+     When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
+       And gurly grew the sea.
+
+     The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
+       It was sic a deadly storm;
+     And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,
+       Till a' her sides were torn.
+
+     "O where will I get a gude sailor,
+       To take my helm in hand,
+     Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
+       To see if I can spy land?"
+
+     "O here am I, a sailor gude,
+       To take the helm in hand,
+     Till you go up to the tall top-mast;
+       But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
+
+     He hadna gane a step, a step,
+       A step but barely ane,
+     When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
+       And the salt sea it came in.
+
+     "Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another o' the twine,
+     And wap them into our ship's side,
+       And let na the sea come in."
+
+     They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another of the twine,
+     And wapped them round that gude ship's side,
+       But still the sea came in.
+
+     O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
+       To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!
+     But lang or a' the play was play'd,
+       They wat their hats aboon.
+
+     And mony was the feather-bed,
+       That flattered on the faem;
+     And mony was the gude lord's son,
+       That never mair cam hame.
+
+     The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
+       The maidens tore their hair,
+     A' for the sake of their true loves;
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,
+       Wi' their fans into their hand,
+     Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
+       Come sailing to the strand!
+
+     And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
+       Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
+     A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O forty miles off Aberdeen,
+       'Tis fifty fathoms deep,
+     And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
+
+
+NOTES AND GLOSSARY.
+
+This ballad in its original form is a very old one, and was probably at
+first a metrical story of the Scotch expedition which was sent to bring
+the Maid of Norway to Scotland (about the year 1285). In its
+sixteenth-century form it shows many changes and additions, some of
+which are not in harmony with the original tale. The _cork-heel'd
+shoon_, for example, were unknown until some hundreds of years later
+than the occurrence of the events here narrated.
+
+     =skeely=, skilful.
+     =skipper=, captain.
+     =braid=, open, not private.
+     =goud=, gold.
+     =fee= (see note 13, page 105).
+     =gane=, suffice.
+     =half-fou=, a quart, dry measure.
+     =alake=, alack.
+     =lift=, sky. (Still used in Scotland.)
+     =shoon=, shoes.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.
+
+
+     There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
+       And he was a squires son;
+     He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
+       That lived in Islington.
+
+     Yet she was coye, and would not believe
+       That he did love her soe,
+     Noe nor at any time would she
+       Any countenance to him showe.
+
+     But when his friendes did understand
+       His fond and foolish minde,
+     They sent him up to faire London,
+       An apprentice for to binde.
+
+     And when he had been seven long yeares,
+       And never his love could see,--
+     "Many a teare have I shed for her sake,
+       When she little thought of mee."
+
+     Then all the maids of Islington
+       Went forth to sport and playe,
+     All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
+       She secretly stole awaye.
+
+     She pulled off her gowne of greene,
+       And put on ragged attire,
+     And to faire London she would go
+       Her true love to enquire.
+
+     And as she went along the high road,
+       The weather being hot and drye,
+     She sat her downe upon a green bank,
+       And her true love came riding bye.
+
+     She started up, with a colour soe redd,
+       Catching hold of his bridle-reine;
+     "One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,
+       "Will ease me of much paine."
+
+     "Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
+       Praye tell me where you were borne."
+     "At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,
+       "Where I have had many a scorne."
+
+     "I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
+       O tell me, whether you knowe
+     The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
+       "She is dead, sir, long agoe."
+
+     "If she be dead, then take my horse,
+       My saddle and bridle also;
+     For I will into some farr countrye,
+       Where noe man shall me knowe."
+
+     "O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,
+       She standeth by thy side;
+     She is here alive, she is not dead,
+       And readye to be thy bride."
+
+     "O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
+       Ten thousand times therefore;
+     For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
+       Whom I thought I should never see more."
+
+
+
+
+ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS.
+
+
+     There are twelve months in all the year,
+       As I hear many say,
+     But the merriest month in all the year
+       Is the merry month of May.
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met a silly old woman,
+       Was weeping on the way.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old woman,
+       What news hast thou for me?"
+     Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town
+       To-day condemned to die."
+
+     "O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,
+       "Or have they ministers slain?
+     Or have they robbed any virgin?
+       Or other men's wives have ta'en?"
+
+     "They have no parishes burnt, good sir,
+       Nor yet have ministers slain,
+     Nor have they robbed any virgin,
+       Nor other men's wives have ta'en."
+
+     "O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,
+       "I pray thee tell to me."
+     "It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer,
+       Bearing their long bows with thee."
+
+     "Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,
+       "How thou madest me sup and dine?
+     By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,
+       "You could not tell it in better time."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met with a silly old palmer,
+       Was walking along the highway.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old man,
+       What news, I do thee pray?"
+     Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town
+       Are condemn'd to die this day."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old man,
+       Come change thy apparel for mine;
+     Here is ten shillings in good silvèr,
+       Go drink it in beer or wine."
+
+     "O, thine apparel is good," he said,
+       "And mine is ragged and torn;
+     Wherever you go, wherever you ride,
+       Laugh not an old man to scorn."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,
+       Come change thy apparel with mine;
+     Here is a piece of good broad gold,
+       Go feast thy brethren with wine."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hat,
+       It stood full high on the crown:
+     "The first bold bargain that I come at,
+       It shall make thee come down."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's cloak,
+       Was patch'd black, blue, and red;
+     He thought it no shame, all the day long,
+       To wear the bags of bread.
+
+     Then he put on the old man's breeks,
+       Was patch'd from leg to side:
+     "By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,
+       "This man loved little pride."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hose,
+       Were patch'd from knee to wrist:
+     "By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,
+       "I'd laugh if I had any list."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's shoes,
+       Were patch'd both beneath and aboon;
+     Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,
+       "It's good habit that makes a man."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down and a down_,
+     And there he met with the proud sheriff,
+       Was walking along the town.
+
+     "Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said;
+       "Now heaven you save and see!
+     And what will you give to a silly old man
+       To-day will your hangman be?"
+
+     "Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,
+       "Some suits I'll give to thee;
+     Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,
+       To-day's a hangman's fee."
+
+     Then Robin he turns him round about,
+       And jumps from stock to stone:
+     "By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,
+       "That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."
+
+     "I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,
+       Nor yet intends to trade;
+     But curst be he," said bold Robin,
+       "That first a hangman was made!
+
+     "I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,
+       And a bag for barley and corn;
+     And a bag for bread, and a bag for beef,
+       And a bag for my little small horn.
+
+     "I have a horn in my pockèt,
+       I got it from Robin Hood,
+     And still when I set it to my mouth,
+       For thee it blows little good."
+
+     "O, wind thy horn, thou proud fellòw!
+       Of thee I have no doubt.
+     I wish that thou give such a blast,
+       Till both thy eyes fall out."
+
+     The first loud blast that he did blow,
+       He blew both loud and shrill;
+     A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came riding over the hill.
+
+     The next loud blast that he did give,
+       He blew both loud and amain,
+     And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came shining over the plain.
+
+     "O, who are these," the sheriff he said,
+       "Come tripping over the lee?"
+     "They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;
+      "They'll pay a visit to thee."
+
+     They took the gallows from the slack,
+       They set it in the glen,
+     They hanged the proud sherìff on that,
+       Released their own three men.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Among the earliest and most popular of English ballads are those
+relating to Robin Hood. This noted, half-mythical outlaw was the
+impersonation of popular rights as they were understood by Englishmen of
+the lower orders in the days of the Plantagenets. Hence the memory of
+him and his reputed deeds was preserved in the songs of the people. "It
+is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to
+celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers,
+interests them more than any other." Even so late as the reign of Edward
+VI., "Robyn Hoode's Daye" was very generally observed in the country
+parishes as a day of feasting and amusement.
+
+The ballads were originally the production of wandering minstrels or
+gleemen, a class of men very popular in the Middle Ages, who followed
+the profession of poetry and music. These rude poets were held in the
+highest esteem and veneration by the people among whom they lived; they
+were received and welcomed wherever they went, and even kings delighted
+to honor them. In short, their art was supposed, by the Anglo-Saxons,
+to be of divine origin, having been invented by Odin, the great
+All-Father, and perfected by Bragi, the musician of the gods. As,
+however, civilization advanced and Christianity became established, this
+admiration for the minstrel and his art became modified in a degree. He
+was no longer regarded as a poet, but only as a singer, a sweet
+musician. Poetry was cultivated by men of leisure and refinement; but
+lyrical ballads remained the peculiar inheritance of the minstrel. For a
+long time after the Norman conquest, minstrels continued to gain their
+livelihood by singing in the houses of the great, and at festive
+occasions, which were never considered complete unless graced by the
+presence of these honored descendants of Bragi; nor did they cease to
+compose and sing their inimitable pieces until near the close of
+Elizabeth's reign. The greater number of the ballads now in existence
+were probably produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and
+the best of them originated in the "North Country," or the border region
+between England and Scotland. They were not at first reduced to writing,
+but were handed down from one generation to another merely by oral
+tradition. As regards their metre and versification, the ballads were
+commonly composed of iambic hexameters or heptameters rhyming in
+couplets. These couplets are readily broken into stanzas of four lines,
+in which form they are usually printed.
+
+The first collection of English ballads ever published was probably that
+of John Dryden, in 1684. The collection was included in a volume
+entitled _Miscellany Poems_. In 1723 a work called _A Collection of Old
+Ballads_ was published anonymously. In 1724 Allan Ramsay issued _The
+Evergreen_, "being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious
+before 1600." This work included many popular songs and ballads. It was
+reprinted in 1875.
+
+We owe the preservation of a large number of the most interesting and
+beautiful ballads to Bishop Percy, who, in 1765, published the first
+really valuable collection of such works in his _Reliques of Ancient
+English Poetry_. Previous to that time most of these songs had existed
+only in manuscript, or, if printed at all, in the cheapest style of
+typography, on sheets designed for circulation among the poor. Bishop
+Percy's work first called the attention of scholars to the value and
+beauty of these neglected and half-forgotten relics, and did much to
+bring about that revolution in literature which took place in the latter
+part of the last century. And it is to these old ballads, thus rescued
+from oblivion, that we owe very many of the noblest literary productions
+of the present century. We know that they were the immediate inspiration
+of Sir Walter Scott, and that they exerted a wonderful influence in
+modifying and directing the taste and style of many other distinguished
+writers.
+
+
+
+
+The Fifteenth Century.
+
+
+"_When we pass from Chaucer's age, we have to overleap nearly a hundred
+and eighty years before we alight upon a period presenting anything like
+an adequate show of literary continuation. A few smaller names are all
+that can be cited as poetical representatives of this sterile interval
+in the literary history of England: whatever of Chaucer's genius still
+lingered in the island seeming to have travelled northward and taken
+refuge in a series of Scotch poets, excelling any of their English
+contemporaries. We are driven to suppose that there was something in the
+social circumstances of England during the long period in question which
+prevented such talent as there was from assuming the particular form of
+literature. Fully to make out what this 'something' was may baffle us;
+but, when we remember that this was the period of the Civil Wars of the
+Roses, we have reason to believe that the dearth of pure literature may
+have been owing, in part, to the engrossing nature of the practical
+questions which then disturbed English society. . . . Accordingly,
+though printing was introduced during this period, and thus Englishmen
+had greater temptations to write, what they did write was almost
+exclusively plain grave prose, intended for practical or polemical
+occasions, and making no figure in a historical retrospect._"--DAVID
+MASSON.
+
+"_Must we quote all these good people who have nothing to say? . . .
+dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming
+chroniclers, most commonplace of men; spinners and spinsters of didactic
+poems who pile up verses on the training of falcons, on heraldry, on
+chemistry, . . . invent the same dream over again for the hundredth
+time, and get themselves taught universal history by the goddess
+Sapience. . . . It is the scholastic phase of poetry._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Fifteenth Century.
+
+=John Lydgate= (1370-1440). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Thomas Occleve= (1365-1450). "De Regimine Principum"; short poems.
+
+=Robert Henryson= (1425-1480). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=William Dunbar= (1450-1513). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Gawain Douglas= (1474-1522). See biographical note, page 284.
+
+=Stephen Hawes= (    -1530), "The Pastime of Pleasure"; "Graunde Amour
+and la Belle Pucel."
+
+=John Skelton= (1460-1529). See biographical note, page 272.
+
+
+
+
+John Skelton.
+
+
+
+
+TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
+
+
+       Mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre;
+       Jentill as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+     With solace and gladnes,
+     Moche mirthe and no madness,
+     All good and no badness,
+       So joyously,
+       So maydenly,
+       So womanly,
+       Her demenyng
+       In every thynge,
+       Far, far passynge
+       That I can endyght,
+       Or suffyce to wryghte,
+       Of mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+       As pacient and as styll,
+       And as full of good wyll
+       As faire Isaphill;
+       Colyaunder,
+       Swete pomaunder,
+       Goode Cassaunder;
+       Stedfast of thought,
+       Wele made, wele wrought;
+       Far may be sought,
+       Erst that ye can fynde
+       So corteise, so kynde,
+       As mirry Margaret,
+       This mydsomer floure,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre.
+
+
+
+
+CARDINAL WOLSEY.
+
+[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?"]
+
+
+     He is set so hye
+     In his ierarchye
+     Of frantike frenesy,
+     And folish fantasy,
+     That in chambre of stars{1}
+     Al maters ther he mars,
+     Clapping his rod on the borde,
+     No man dare speake a worde:
+     For he hath al the saying
+     Without any renaying.
+     He rolleth in his Recordes;
+     He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?
+     Is not my reason good?"
+     Good!--even good--_Robin Hood_!--
+     Borne up on every syde
+     With pompe and with pryde,
+     With trump up alleluya,{2}
+     For dame Philargyria{3}
+     Hath so his hart in hold.
+     Adew, Philosophia!
+     Adew, Theologia!
+     Welcome, dame Simonia,{4}
+     With dame Castamergia,{5}
+     To drink and for to eate,
+     Sweete ipocras{6} and sweete meate.
+     To keep his fleshe chaste
+     In Lente, for his repaste
+     He eateth capons stewed,
+     Fesaunt and partriche mewed--
+     Spareth neither mayd ne wife--
+     This is a postel's{7} life!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =chambre of stars.= The Star Chamber, a court of civil and criminal
+jurisdiction for the punishment of offences for which the law made no
+provision. It was so called because the ceiling of the room in which it
+was held was decorated with gilt stars.
+
+2. =alleluya.= In allusion to the pomp with which Wolsey celebrated divine
+service.
+
+3. =Philargyria.= Love of money; covetousness.
+
+4. =Simonia.= Simony; buying and selling church livings.
+
+5. =Castamergia.= Gluttony. Greek _kastrimargia_. A not uncommon word
+among the monks of the Middle Ages, one of whose prayers was, "From the
+spirit of castrimargia, O Lord, deliver us!"
+
+6. =ipocras.= Hippocras, or spiced wine, a drink formerly very popular in
+England. It was made by mixing Canary and Lisbon wines, in equal parts,
+with various kinds of sweet spices, and allowing the whole to stand for
+a few days, after which the wine was poured off and sweetened with
+sugar.
+
+7. =postel.= Apostle--here ironically applied to Wolsey.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN SKELTON was born about the year 1460. In his earlier life he was
+the friend of Caxton, the first English printer, and of Percy, Earl of
+Northumberland. He was poet-laureate under Henry VII., and tutor of the
+young prince (afterwards Henry VIII.), and was described by Erasmus as
+_litterarum Anglicarum lumen et decus_. Later in life he was promoted to
+the rectory of Diss in Norfolk, but was severely censured by his bishop
+for his buffooneries in the pulpit and his satirical ballads against the
+mendicants. He finally became a hanger-on about the court of Henry
+VIII.; and, daring to write a rhyming libel on Cardinal Wolsey, was
+driven to take refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. There he
+was kindly entertained and protected by Abbot Islip until his death in
+1529. Some of his poems were printed in 1512, and others in 1568.
+
+Taine calls Skelton "a virulent pamphleteer, who jumbles together
+French, English, Latin phrases, with slang and fashionable words,
+invented words, intermingled with short rhymes. Style, metre, rhyme,
+language, art of every kind, at an end; beneath the vain parade of
+official style there is only a heap of rubbish. Yet, as he says,
+
+     'Though my rhyme be ragged,
+      Tatter'd and jagged,
+      Rudely rain-beaten,
+      Rusty, moth-eaten,
+      Yf ye take welle therewithe,
+      It hath in it some pithe.'"
+
+As to the coarseness which characterizes his verses, it cannot be
+explained by saying that it is a reflection of the manners of the times
+in which he lived. For, as Warton says, Skelton "would have been a
+writer without decorum at any period." Yet, notwithstanding his faults,
+he is deserving of our notice, if for nothing else, on account of the
+complete originality of his style--a style unknown and unattempted by
+any former writer. His bold departure from the accepted rules of
+versification showed to those who followed him some of the possibilities
+in English poetical composition, and helped to open the way to the great
+outburst of song which followed.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from Four Minor Poets.
+
+
+
+
+A VISIT TO LONDON.
+
+BY JOHN LYDGATE.
+
+
+     Then unto London I dyd me hye,
+     Of all the land it beareth the pryse:
+     "Hot pescodes," one began to crye,
+     "Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse";
+     One bade me come nere and by some spyce,
+     Peper and safforne they gan me bede,
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,
+     Where mutch people I saw for to stand;
+     One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,
+     An other he taketh me by the hande,
+     "Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land";
+     I never was used to such thyngs indede,
+     And wanting mony, I might not spede.
+
+     Then went I forth by London stone,
+     Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;
+     Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;
+     Then comes me one, cryed, "Hot shepes feete";
+     One cryde "makerell," "ryshes grene," an other gan greete;
+     One bad me by a hood to cover my head,
+     But for want of mony I myght not be sped.
+
+     Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;
+     One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:
+     Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;
+     There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.
+     "Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye;
+     Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,
+     Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;
+     I saw where honge myne owne hoode,
+     That I had lost amonge the thronge;
+     To by my own hood I thought it wronge,
+     I knew it well as I dyd my crede,
+     But for lack of mony I could not spede.
+
+     The taverner tooke me by the sleve,
+     "Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay"?
+     I answered, "That can not mutch me greve:
+     A peny can do no more than it may";
+     I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;
+     Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,
+     And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.
+
+     Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;
+     And one cryed, "Hoo! go we hence!"
+     I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,
+     That he wold spare me my expence.
+     "Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under two pence;
+     I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede."
+     Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.
+
+     Then I convayd me into Kent;
+     For of the law wold I meddle no more;
+     Because no man to me tooke entent,
+     I dyght me to do as I dyd before.
+     Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,
+     Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!
+     For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.
+
+--_From "London Lickpenny."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =anone=, at once.
+     =assay=, try.
+     =bede=, offer.
+     =Chepe=, the market. Cheapside, still a famous street in London.
+     =dyght=, disposed.
+     =gere=, apparel.
+     =greete=, cry out.
+     =hyed=, hurried.
+     =lyst=, wish.
+     =mede=, reward, wages.
+     =pescodes=, pease.
+     =ryse=, bough or twig.
+     =ryshes=, rushes.
+     =spede=, proceed, do.
+     =yede=, went.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN AGE.
+
+
+     Rightwisenes chastised al robbours,
+     By egall balaunce of execucion,
+     Fraud, falsë mede, put backward fro jurours,
+     True promes holde, made no delacioun;
+     Forswearing shamed durst enter in no toun,
+     Nor lesingmongers, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     That golden world could lovë God and drede,
+     All the seven dedes of mercy for to use,
+     The rich was ready to do almës dede,
+     Who asked harbour, men did him not refuse;
+     No man of malice would other tho accuse,
+     Defame his neighbour, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     The true marchant by measure bought and sold,
+     Deceipt was none in the artificer,
+     Making no balkes, the plough was truely hold,
+     Abacke stode Idlenes, farre from labourer,
+     Discrecion marcial at diner and supper,
+     Content with measure, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     Of wast in clothing was that time none excesse;
+     Men might the lord from his subjectës know;
+     A difference made twene povertie and richesse,
+     Twene a princesse and other statës lowe;
+     Of horned boastës no boast was tho blowe,
+     Nor counterfeit feining, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     This golden world long whylë dyd endure,
+     Was none allay in that metall sene,
+     Tyll Saturne ceased, by record of scripture,
+     Jupiter reygned, put out his father clene,
+     Chaunged obrison into silver shene,
+     Al up so downe, because Attemperaunce
+     Was set asyde, and loste her governaunce.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"The Falls of Princes," from which this is an extract, was printed in
+folio in 1558. Its complete title is, "The Tragedies gathered by Jhon
+Bochas of all such Princes as fell from theyr Estates throughe the
+Mutability of Fortune since the creation of Adam until his time; wherin
+may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable
+warninges howe the like may be avoyded. Translated into English by John
+Lidgate, Monke of Burye."
+
+
+
+
+THE GARMOND OF FAIR LADIES.
+
+BY ROBERT HENRYSON.
+
+
+     Wald my gud lady lufe me best,
+       And wirk eftir my will,
+     I suld ane Garmond gudliest
+       Gar mak hir body till.
+
+     Off hie honour suld be hir hud,
+       Upoun hir heid to weir,
+     Garneist with governance so gud,
+       Na demyng suld hir deir.
+
+     Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,
+       Of chestetie so quhyt,
+     With schame and dreid togidder mixt,
+       The same suld be perfyt.
+
+     Hir kirtill suld be of clene constance,
+       Lasit with lesum lufe,
+     The mailyheis of continuance
+       For nevir to remufe.
+
+     Hir gown suld be of gudliness
+       Weill ribband with renowne,
+     Purfillit with plesour in ilk place,
+       Furrit with fyne fassoun.
+
+     Hir belt suld be of benignitie,
+       About hir middill meit;
+     Hir mantill of humilitie,
+       To tholl bayth wind and weit.
+
+     Hir hat suld be of fair having
+       And her tepat of trewth,
+     Hir patelet of gude pansing,
+       Hir hals-ribbane of rewth.
+
+     Hir slevis suld be of esperance,
+       To keip hir fra dispair;
+     Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance,
+       To hyd hir fyngearis fair.
+
+     Hir schone suld be of sickernes,
+       In syne that scho nocht slyd;
+     Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges,
+       I suld for hir provyd.
+
+     Wald scho put on this Garmond gay,
+       I durst sweir by my seill,
+     That scho woir nevir grene nor gray
+       That set hir half so weill.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =esperance=, hope.
+     =fassoun=, manners.
+     =garmond=, garment, costume.
+     =governance=, discretion.
+     =hals-ribbane=, neck-ribbon.
+     =hoiss=, hose.
+     =hud=, hood.
+     =kirtill=, skirt.
+     =lasit=, fastened.
+     =lesum=, lawful.
+     =lufe=, love.
+     =mailyheis=, eyelet-holes.
+     =pansing=, thought.
+     =patelet=, ruffet.
+     =quhyt=, white.
+     =rewth=, pity.
+     =sark=, shirt, chemise.
+     =scho=, she.
+     =schone=, shoes.
+     =seill=, knowledge.
+     =set=, suited.
+     =sickernes=, security.
+     =suld=, should.
+     =tepat=, tippet.
+     =tholl=, withstand.
+     =weit=, rain.
+
+
+
+
+A MAY MORNING.
+
+BY WILLIAM DUNBAR.
+
+
+     Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past
+       And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,
+     Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,
+       And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
+       Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
+     Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
+     Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:
+
+     In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
+       Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene
+     In at the window lukit by the day,
+       And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;
+       On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,
+     Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering
+     Sé hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.
+
+     Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,
+       In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,
+     Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude
+       In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new
+       Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,
+     Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;
+     Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.
+
+     Slugird, scho said, awalk annone for schame,
+       And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;
+     The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,
+       To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt;
+       Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
+     Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
+     Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.
+
+     Then callit scho all flouris that grew on feild
+       Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris
+     Upone the awfull Thrissil scho beheld
+       And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;
+       Considering him so able for the weiris
+     A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,
+     And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:
+
+     And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;
+       Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce
+     As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;
+       And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,
+       Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;
+     Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
+     Compair hir to the lilleis nobilness.
+
+     Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty
+       As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:
+     For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;
+       Considring that no flour is so perfyt,
+       So full of vertew, pleasans, and delyt,
+     So full of blisful angeilik bewty,
+     Imperiall birth, honour and dignité.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This is a selection from the long allegorical poem, "The Thistle and the
+Rose." The thistle represents Scotland, of which country that plant is
+the national emblem. The fleur-de-lis, or lily, represents France; and
+the rose, England. The poem was written in celebration of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret of England, and the
+friendly relations thus established for a time between those two
+countries.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =denty=, favor.
+     =effeiris=, affairs.
+     =ene=, eyes.
+     =fallow=, betroth.
+     =forgit=, made, created.
+     =gife=, if.
+     =halsit=, hailed.
+     =houris=, morning orisons.
+     =laif=, rest.
+     =lemys=, rays.
+     =lukit=, looked.
+     =mansuetude=, gentleness.
+     =morrow=, morning.
+     =muddir=, mother.
+     =orient=, eastern.
+     =quhen=, when.
+     =quhois=, whose.
+     =quhyll=, while.
+     =rois=, rose.
+     =sic=, such.
+     =speiris=, spears.
+     =splene=, heart.
+     =thrissil=, thistle.
+     =udir=, other.
+     =weid=, garments.
+     =weiris=, wars.
+
+
+
+
+IN PRAISE OF HONOUR.
+
+BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS.
+
+
+       O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour degest,
+     Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest.
+     For hie renoun thow art guerdoun conding,
+     Of worschip kend the glorious end and rest,
+     But quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest.
+     Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing,
+     And pouerall to mekill auaill sone bring.
+     I the require sen thow but peir art best,
+     That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.
+
+       Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis,
+     That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis,
+     Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.
+     He docht richt nocht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis;
+     Thy name but blame, and royal fame diuine is;
+     Thow port at schort of our comfort and reid,
+     Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid,
+     All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,
+     O schene I mene, nane may sustene thy feid.
+
+       Haill rois maist chois till clois thy fois greit micht,
+     Haill stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht,
+     Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice,
+     Was ay ilk day gar say the way of licht;
+     Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt.
+     Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise,
+     Till be supplie, and the high gre of price.
+     Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,
+     For I apply schortlie to thy deuise.
+                                 --_From "The Palice of Honour."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =afoir=, before.
+     =auance=, advance.
+     =ay=, ever, always.
+     =but=, without.
+     =conding=, condign, worthy.
+     =crynis=, diminishes.
+     =deid=, death.
+     =degest=, grave.
+     =dicht=, relieve.
+     =docht=, avails.
+     =feid=, hatred.
+     =fois=, time.
+     =glaiding=, happiness.
+     =gloir=, glory.
+     =grant=, giving.
+     =gre=, degree.
+     =guerdoun=, reward.
+     =ilk=, any.
+     =mekill=, much, mickle.
+     =peir=, peer.
+     =poureall=, the poor.
+     =puissance=, power.
+     =quhilk=, who, which.
+     =quhome=, without whom.
+     =reid=, advice.
+     =rois=, king.
+     =sanct=, saint.
+     =site=, shame.
+     =till=, to.
+     =tite=, quickly.
+     =tynis=, loses.
+     =wicht=, person, wight.
+
+
+
+
+FOUR POETS OF THIS CENTURY.
+
+
+JOHN LYDGATE was born at the village of Lydgate, near Newmarket, about
+1370. He was a Benedictine monk attached to the monastery of Bury St.
+Edmunds, and is remembered as the author of three poems, which, in their
+time, attracted much attention. These are "The Storie of Thebes,"
+written in ten-syllable rhyming couplets, and founded upon the "Teseide"
+of Boccaccio; the "Troye Book," finished about 1420, and relating the
+story of the Trojan war as recounted by Guido di Colonna in his Latin
+prose history of Troy; and "The Falls of Princes," founded on a French
+version of Boccaccio's "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium." In 1433, Lydgate
+wrote a wearisome but somewhat amusing poem, "Pur le Roy," describing a
+visit to London, and the pageants, processions, and other rejoicings, on
+the occasion of the entrance of Henry VI. into the city after his
+coronation. The date of the poet's death is not exactly known, but it
+was probably not later than 1440.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT HENRYSON, "an accomplished man and a good and genuine poet," was
+born about the year 1425, and died near the close of the century. He was
+for a time a schoolmaster and notary public at Dunfermline, in Scotland,
+and was connected, in some capacity, with the University of Glasgow. He
+was probably, like Lydgate, a Benedictine monk. His principal works are
+"The Testament of Cresseid," a sequel to Chaucer's "Troilus and
+Cresseide," and a collection of thirteen fables. He wrote also many
+shorter poems, of which the ballad of "Robin and Makyne" (published in
+Percy's _Reliques_) is the best known.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WILLIAM DUNBAR was born in East Lothian, Scotland, about the year 1450.
+He was educated at the University of St. Andrews, and in early life
+travelled somewhat extensively as a novitiate of the order of St.
+Francis. He visited England in 1501, upon the occasion of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry
+VII. One of his best poems, "The Thistle and the Rose," was written in
+commemoration of that event. He accompanied the queen to Aberdeen in
+1511, and for some time, both before and after, was in attendance and
+favor at the Scotch court. Nothing is known of his death, but it has
+been conjectured that he fell in the battle of Flodden, in 1513.
+Besides the poem just mentioned, he wrote "The Golden Targe," "The Dance
+of the Deadly Sins," and many shorter poems, most of which are
+allegories. The "Thistle and the Rose" has been pronounced "the happiest
+political allegory in our language. Heraldry has never been more
+skilfully handled, nor compliments more gracefully paid, nor fidelity
+more persuasively preached to a monarch than in this poem."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GAWAIN DOUGLAS was a son of the famous Earl of Angus, and was born in
+Brechin, Scotland, about 1474. He was educated partly at the University
+of St. Andrews, and partly in Paris. His first considerable poem, "The
+Palice of Honour," was published in 1501, and dedicated to King James
+IV. It is an allegory, such as was at that time the staple of poetical
+composition, and contains but little that is particularly original.
+Another allegory, printed after his death, is entitled "King Hart," and
+has for its subject the heart of man. His greatest work is his
+translation of Virgil's "Æneid" into Scottish verse. In 1509, Douglas
+was appointed provost of St. Giles, Edinburgh, and after the battle of
+Flodden he was made abbot of Aberbrothwick. In 1515 he was consecrated
+Bishop of Dunkeld, but was unable to gain possession of the cathedral
+except by force. Becoming involved in the feud between the rival
+families of Angus and Hamilton, he was obliged to escape into England in
+1521, where towards the end of the same year he died.
+
+
+
+
+The Fourteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In the fourteenth century there comes an Englishman nourished on this
+[the romance] poetry, taught his trade by this poetry, getting words,
+rhyme, metre from this poetry; for even of that stanza which the
+Italians used, and which Chaucer derived immediately from the Italians,
+the basis and suggestion was probably given in France. . . . If we ask
+ourselves wherein consists the immense superiority of Chaucer's poetry
+over the [earlier] romance-poetry, why it is that in passing from this
+to Chaucer we suddenly feel ourselves to be in another world, we shall
+find that his superiority is both in the substance of his poetry and in
+the style of his poetry. His superiority in substance is given by his
+large, free, simple, clear yet kindly view of human life. . . . We have
+only to call to mind the Prologue to 'The Canterbury Tales.' The right
+comment upon it is Dryden's: 'It is sufficient to say, according to the
+proverb, that _here is God's plenty_.' And again: 'He is a perpetual
+fountain of good sense.' It is by a large, free, sound representation of
+things, that poetry, this high criticism of life, has truth of
+substance; and Chaucer's poetry has truth of substance. If we think of
+Chaucer's divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity of movement,
+it is difficult to speak temperately. They are irresistible, and justify
+all the rapture with which his successors speak of his gold 'dew-drops
+of speech.' . . . Chaucer is the father of our splendid English poetry,
+he is our 'well of English undefiled,' because by the lovely charm of
+his diction, the lovely charm of his movement, he makes an epoch and
+founds a tradition. In Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, we can
+follow the tradition of the liquid diction, the fluid movement, of
+Chaucer; at one time it is his liquid diction of which in these poets we
+feel the virtue, and at another it is his fluid movement. And the virtue
+is irresistible._"--MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+
+Poets of the Fourteenth Century.
+
+=Geoffrey Chaucer= (1328-1400). See biographical note, page 301.
+
+=William Langland= (1332-    ). "The Vision of William concerning Piers the
+Ploughman."
+
+=John Gower= (1330-1408). "Confessio Amantis."
+
+
+
+
+Geoffrey Chaucer.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES."
+
+
+     Whan that Aprille with his schowrës swoote
+     The drought of Marche had perced to the roote,
+     And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
+     Of which vertue engendred is the flour;
+     Whan Zephirus eek with his swetë breethe
+     Enspired hath in every holte and heethe
+     The tendre croppës, and the yongë sonne
+     Hath in the Ram{1} his halfë cours i-ronne,{2}
+     And smalë fowlës maken melodie,
+     That slepen al the night with open eye,
+     So priketh hem nature in here corages:--
+     Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
+     And palmers for to seeken{3} straungë strondes,
+     To fernë halwes, kouthe in sondry londes;
+     And specially, from every schirës ende
+     Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
+     The holy blisful martir{4} for to seeke,
+     That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.{5}
+       Byfel that, in that sesoun on a day,
+     In Southwerk at the Tabard{6} as I lay,
+     Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
+     To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,
+     At night was come into that hostelrye
+     Wel nyne and twenty in a compainye,
+     Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle
+     In felaweschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle,
+     That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;
+     The chambres and the stables{7} weren wyde,
+     And wel we werën esed attë beste.
+     And schortly, whan the sonnë was to reste,
+     So hadde I spoken with hem everychon,
+     That I was of here felaweschipe anon,
+     And madë forward erly for to ryse,
+     To take our wey ther as I yow devyse.
+     But nathëles, whil I have tyme and space,
+     Or{8} that I forther in this talë pace,
+     Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,
+     To tellë yow al the condicioun{9}
+     Of eche of hem, so as it semede me,
+     And whiche they weren, and of what degre;
+     And eek in what array that they were inne:
+     And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.
+       A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,
+     That from the tymë that he first bigan
+     To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,{10}
+     Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.
+     Ful worthy was he in his lordës werre,
+     And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,
+     As wel in Cristendom as in hethënesse,{11}
+     And evere honoured for his worthinesse.
+     At Alisaundre{12} he was whan it was wonne,
+     Ful oftë tyme he hadde the bord bygonne{13}
+     Aboven allë naciouns in Pruce.{14}
+     In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,
+     No cristen man so ofte of his degre.
+     In Gernade{15} attë siegë hadde he be
+     Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.
+     At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,
+     Whan they were wonne; and in the Greetë see{16}
+     At many a noble arive hadde he be.
+     At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,
+     And foughten for our feith at Tramassene
+     In lystës thriës, and ay slayn his foo.
+     This ilkë worthy knight hadde ben also
+     Somtymë with the lord of Palatye,{17}
+     Ageyn another hethen in Turkye:
+     And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.
+     And though that he was worthy, he was wys,
+     And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
+     He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde
+     In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.{18}
+     He was a verray perfight gentil knight.
+     But for to tellen you of his array,
+     His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.
+     Of fustyan he werede a gepoun
+     Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.
+     For he was late ycome from his viage,
+     And wentë for to doon his pilgrimage.
+       With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER,
+     A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,{19}
+     With lokkës crulle as they were leyd in presse.
+     Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.
+     Of his stature he was of even lengthe,
+     And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.
+     And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye,
+     In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye,
+     And born him wel, as of so litel space,
+     In hope to stonden in his lady grace.
+     Embrowded was he, as it were a mede
+     Al ful of fresshë floures, white and reede.
+     Syngynge he was, or floytynge,{20} al the day;
+     He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.
+     Schort was his goune, with sleevës longe and wyde.
+     Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and fairë ryde.
+     He cowdë songës make and wel endite,
+     Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.
+     So hote he lovedë, that by nightertale
+     He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.
+     Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable,
+     And carf byforn his fader at the table.
+       A YEMAN hadde he,{21} and servaunts nomoo
+     At that tyme, for him lustë rydë soo;
+     And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.
+     A shef of pocok arwës{22} brighte and kene
+     Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.
+     Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly;
+     His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.
+     And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe
+     A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.
+     Of woodë-craft wel cowde he al the usage.
+     Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer{23}
+     And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,
+     And on that other side a gay daggere,
+     Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere;
+     A Cristofre{24} on his brest of silver schene.
+     An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;
+     A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.
+       Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,
+     That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;
+     Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy{25};
+     And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.
+     Ful wel sche sang the servisë divyne,
+     Entuned in hire nose ful semëly;
+     And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly,
+     After the scole of Stratford attë Bowe,
+     For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.
+     At metë wel i-taught was sche withalle;
+     Sche leet no morsel from hire lippës falle,
+     Ne wette hire fyngres in hire saucë deepe.
+     Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe,
+     That no dropë ne fille upon hire breste.
+     In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
+     Hire overlippë wypede sche so clene,
+     That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
+     Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
+     Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
+     And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26}
+     And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
+     And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
+     Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,
+     And to ben holden digne of reverence.
+     But for to speken of hir conscience,
+     Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
+     Sche woldë weepe if that sche saw a mous
+     Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
+     Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
+     With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.
+     But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
+     Or if men{27} smot it with a yerdë smerte:
+     And al was conscience and tendre herte.
+     Ful semëly hire wympel i-pynched was;
+     Hir nose tretys; hir eyën greye as glas;
+     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed
+     But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
+     It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
+     For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
+     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
+     Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar
+     A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
+     And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,
+     On which was first i-write a crownëd A,
+     And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28}
+     Another NONNE with hir haddë sche,
+     That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.
+       A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistryë,{30}
+     An out-rydere, that lovedë veneryë;
+     A manly man, to ben an abbot able.
+     Ful many a deynté hors hadde he in stable:
+     And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere
+     Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,
+     And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.
+     Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,
+     The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,
+     Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,
+     This ilkë monk leet oldë thingës pace,
+     And held after the newë world the space.
+     He yaf nat of that text a pullëd hen,{31}
+     That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;
+     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchëles
+     Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32};
+     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
+     But thilkë text held he not worth an oystre.
+     And I seide his opinioun was good.
+     What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34}
+     Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.
+     Or swynkë with his handës, and laboure,
+     As Austyn bit? How schal the world be servëd?
+     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reservëd.
+     Therfor he was a pricasour aright;
+     Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;
+     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
+     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.{35}
+     I saugh his slevës purfiled attë honde
+     With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.
+     And for to festne his hood under his chynne
+     He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne:
+     A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.
+     His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas,
+     And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.
+     He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;
+     His eyën steepe, and rollyng in his heede,
+     That stemëde as a forneys of a leede;{36}
+     His bootës souple, his hors in gret estat.
+     Now certeinly he was a fair prelat;
+     He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.
+     A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.
+     His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.
+       A FRERE there was, a wantown and a merye,
+     A lymytour,{37} a ful solempnë man.
+     In alle the ordres foure{38} is noon that can
+     So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.
+     He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage
+     Of yongë wymmen, at his owën cost.
+     Unto his ordre he was a noble post.{39}
+     Ful wel biloved and famulier was he
+     With frankeleyns{40} over-al in his cuntre,
+     And eek with worthy wommen of the toun:
+     For he hadde power of confessioun,
+     As seyde himself, morë than a curat,
+     For of his ordre he was licentiat.{41}
+     Ful swetëly herde he confessioun,
+     And plesaunt was his absolucioun;
+     He was an esy man to yeve penaunce
+     Ther as he wistë han{42} a good pitaunce;
+     For unto a poure ordre for to yive
+     Is signë that a man is wel i-schrive.
+     For if he yaf, he dorstë make avaunt,
+     He wistë that a man was repentaunt.
+     For many a man so hard is of his herte,
+     He may not wepe although him sorë smerte.
+     Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres,
+     Men{43} moot yive silver to the pourë freres.
+     His typet was ay farsëd ful of knyfes
+     And pynnës, for to yivë fairë wyfes.
+     And certeynly he hadde a mery note;
+     Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.
+     Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.
+     His nekkë whit was as the flour-de-lys.
+     Therto he strong was as a champioun.
+     He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,
+     And everych hostiler and tappestere,
+     Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere,
+     For unto such a worthy man as he
+     Acorded not, as by his faculté,
+     To han with sikë lazars aqueyntaunce.
+     It is not honest, it may not avaunce,
+     For to delen with no such poraille,
+     But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.{44}
+     And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise,
+     Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.
+     Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.
+     He was the bestë beggere in his hous,
+     For though a widewe haddë noght oo schoo,
+     So plesaunt was his _In principio_,{45}
+     Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.
+     His purchas{46} was wel better than his rente.
+     And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe,
+     In lovë-dayës{47} couthe he mochel helpe.
+     For ther he was not lik a cloysterer,
+     With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler,
+     But he was lik a maister or a pope.
+     Of double worsted was his semy-cope,
+     That rounded as a belle out of the presse.
+     Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse,
+     To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge;
+     And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge
+     His eyën twynkled in his heed aright,
+     As don the sterrës in the frosty night.
+     This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.
+       A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forkëd berd,
+     In mottëleye, and hign on hors he sat,
+     Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat;
+     His botës clapsed faire and fetysly.
+     His resons he spak ful solempnëly,
+     Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.
+     He wolde the see were kept for{48} eny thinge
+     Betwixë Middelburgh and Orëwelle.
+     Wel couthe he in eschaungë scheeldës{49} selle.
+     This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette;
+     Ther wistë no wight that he was in dette,
+     So estatly was he of governaunce,
+     With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce
+     For sothe he was a worthy man withalle,
+     But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.
+       A CLERK ther was of Oxenford{50} also,
+     That unto logik haddë longe i-go.
+     As lenë was his hors as is a rake,
+     And he was not right{51} fat, I undertake;
+     But lokëde holwe, and therto soberly.
+     Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.
+     For he hadde geten him yit no benefice,
+     Ne was so worldly for to have office.
+     For him was levere have at his beddës heede
+     Twenty bookës, clad in blak or reede,
+     Of Aristotle and his philosophyë,
+     Then robës riche, or fithel, or gay sawtryë.{52}
+     But al be that he was a philosophre,
+     Yet haddë he but litel gold in cofre;
+     But al that he mighte of his frendës hente,
+     On bookës and on lernyng he it spente,
+     And busily gan for the soulës preye
+     Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye;
+     Of studie took he most cure and most heede.
+     Not oo word spak he morë than was neede,
+     And that was seid in forme and reverence
+     And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.
+     Sownynge{53} in moral vertu was his speche,
+     And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =ageyn=, against.
+     =arive=, disembarkment.
+     =aventure=, chance.
+     =ay=, always.
+     =bar=, bore.
+     =bawdrick=, baldric.
+     =ben=, to be.
+     =bit=, biddeth.
+     =byfel=, it happened.
+     =bysmotered=, smutted.
+     =carf=, carved.
+     =cheere=, manner.
+     =chevysaunce=, loans, bargains.
+     =chivachye=, military expedition.
+     =clapsed=, clasped.
+     =cleped=, called.
+     =clerk=, a scholar.
+     =corage=, heart.
+     =courtepy=, cloak.
+     =cowde=, knew.
+     =crulle=, curled.
+     =cure=, care.
+     =delyver=, active.
+     =devyse=, speak of.
+     =digne=, worthy.
+     =don=, do.
+     =eek=, also.
+     =embrowded=, embroidered.
+     =encres=, increase.
+     =everychon=, every one, all.
+     =farsed=, stuffed.
+     =ferne=, distant, foreign.
+     =ferre=, farther.
+     =ferthing=, small portion.
+     =fetysly=, neatly, well.
+     =fithel=, fiddle.
+     =Flaundrische=, Flemish.
+     =flotynge=, fluting, playing.
+     =flour-de-lys=, fleur-de-lis.
+     =for-pyned=, much wasted.
+     =forster=, forester.
+     =frere=, friar.
+     =gawded=, having gawds.
+     =gepoun=, short cassock.
+     =goost=, ghost.
+     =grys=, fur.
+     =gynglen=, jingling.
+     =habergeoun=, hawberk.
+     =halwes=, shrines (holies).
+     =heethe=, heath, meadow.
+     =hem=, them.
+     =here=, their.
+     =heute=, borrow.
+     =holpen=, helped.
+     =holte=, wood.
+     =i-falle=, fallen.
+     =ilke=, same.
+     =i-ronne=, ran.
+     =juste=, joust.
+     =kouthe=, known.
+     =leede=, cauldron.
+     =leste=, pleasure.
+     =levere=, rather.
+     =lipsede=, lisped.
+     =luste=, pleased.
+     =maistrye=, mastery.
+     =maner=, kind.
+     =mede=, meadow.
+     =mete=, meals, eating.
+     =motteleye=, mixed colors.
+     =nightertale=, night-time.
+     =noon=, not one, not at all.
+     =not-heed=, shorn-head.
+     =pace=, pass.
+     =peyned=, took pains.
+     =pitous=, full of pity.
+     =pocok=, peacock.
+     =poraille=, poor folks.
+     =pricasour=, hard rider.
+     =priketh=, incites, spurs.
+     =prys=, reputation, worth.
+     =purfiled=, embroidered.
+     =purtreye=, paint.
+     =raughte=, reached.
+     =reccheles=, reckless.
+     =reysed=, ridden.
+     =rote=, a musical instrument.
+     =sawtreye=, psaltery.
+     =schene=, bright.
+     =scoleye=, attend school.
+     =seeke=, sick.
+     =semely=, becomingly.
+     =sikerly=, surely.
+     =somdel=, somewhat.
+     =sondry=, different kinds.
+     =sothly=, truly.
+     =souple=, pliant.
+     =sovereyn=, excellent.
+     =sowning=, boasting.
+     =steepe=, bright.
+     =streit=, strict.
+     =swich=, such.
+     =swynke=, toil.
+     =thilke=, this.
+     =tretys=, slender.
+     =venerye=, hunting.
+     =viage=, journey.
+     =wastel breed=, cake bread.
+     =wenden=, go.
+     =werre=, war.
+     =wight=, person.
+     =wiste=, knew.
+     =wood=, mad, foolish.
+     =wympel=, wimple.
+     =yaf=, gave.
+     =yeddynges=, gleemen's songs.
+     =yemanly=, yeoman-like.
+     =yerde=, stick.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =in the Ram.= In the constellation Aries. "There is a difference, in
+astronomy, between the _sign_ Aries and the _constellation_ Aries. In
+April the sun is theoretically in the sign Taurus, but visibly in the
+constellation Aries."--_Morris._
+
+2. =i-ronne.= Run. The prefix _i-_ or _y-_ is equivalent to the A.-S. or
+German _ge_, and usually denotes the past participle.
+
+3. =seeken.= The infinitive in early English ended in _n_, usually in
+_en_.
+
+4. =martir.= Thomas à Becket, who was slain at Canterbury in 1170. He was
+canonized by Pope Alexander III. as St. Thomas of Canterbury.
+
+5. =seeke.= Sick, ill. At the present time the English restrict the use of
+the word "sick" to nausea, and regard it in its original and broader
+signification as an "Americanism."
+
+6. =Tabard.= A tabard is "a jaquet or slevelesse coat worne in times past
+by noblemen in the warres, but now only by heraults. It is the signe of
+an inne in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the
+Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This is the hostelrie where Chaucer and the
+other pilgrims mett together and accorded about the manner of their
+journey to Canterbury."--_Speght._
+
+7. =stables.= Standing-places (Lat. _sto_, to stand); meaning here the
+public rooms of the inn.
+
+8. =Or.= Before, ere (A.-S. _aer_, ere). Compare Psalm xc. 2.
+
+9. =condicioun.= A word of four syllables, accented on the last.
+
+10. =chyvalrye.= The profession of a knight.
+
+11. =hethënesse.= Heathen countries. From _heath_, the open country. "The
+word _heathen_ acquired its meaning from the fact that, at the
+introduction of Christianity into Germany, the wild dwellers on the
+heaths longest resisted the truth."--_Trench._
+
+12. =Alisaundre.= Alexandria was taken in 1365 by Pierre de Lusignan,
+king of Cyprus, but was very soon abandoned.
+
+13. =he hadde the bord bygonne.= "He had been placed at the head of the
+table, the usual compliment to extraordinary merit."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+14. =Pruce.= Prussia. "When our military men wanted employment it was
+usual for them to go and serve in _Pruce_, or Prussia, with the Knights
+of the Teutonic order, who were in a state of constant warfare with
+their heathen neighbours in Lettow (Lithuania) and Ruse
+(Russia)."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+15. =Gernade.= Grenada, probably at the siege of Algezir, in that country,
+in 1344. Belmarie was probably a Moorish town in Africa, as also was
+Tramassene, mentioned below. Lieys was in Armenia. Both it and Satalie
+(Attalia) were conquered by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367.
+
+16. =Greetë see.= That part of the Mediterranean which washes the coast of
+Palestine.
+
+17. =lord of Palatye.= A Christian knight who kept possession of his lands
+by paying tribute to the Turks.
+
+18. =no maner wight.= No sort of person. In early English the preposition
+was often omitted after _manner_. Observe the double negatives in these
+two lines.
+
+19. =bacheler.= "A soldier not old or rich enough to lead his relations
+into battle with a banner. The original sense of the word is _little_,
+_small_, _young_, from Welsh _bach_."--_Webster._
+
+20. =floytynge.= Fluting. So, in Chaucer's "House of Fame," he says:
+
+     "And many a floyte and litlyng horne,
+     And pipes made of grene corne."
+
+21. =he.= That is, the knight. The word _yeman_, or _yeoman_, is an
+abbreviation of _yeongeman_. As used by Chaucer, it means a servant of a
+rank above that of groom, but below that of squire. The present use of
+the word to signify a small landholder is of more modern origin.
+
+22. =pocok arwës.= Arrows tipped with peacock feathers.
+
+23. =bracer.= A kind of close sleeve laced upon the arm. "A bracer serveth
+for two causes, one to save his arme from the strype of the stringe, and
+his doublet from wearing; and the other is, that the stringe glidinge
+sharplye and quicklye off the bracer, maye make the sharper
+shoote."--_Roger Ascham's Toxophilus_, page 129.
+
+24. =Cristofre.= An image of St. Christopher, which was thought to protect
+its wearer from hidden danger.
+
+25. =seynt Loy.= St. Eloy, or Eligius.
+
+26. =of gret disport.= Fond of gayety.
+
+27. =men.= This word as here used is an indefinite pronoun equivalent to
+_one_, or _any one_.
+
+28. "Love conquers all things."
+
+29. =chapeleyne.= Probably _assistant_.
+
+30. =a fair for the maistryë.= A fair one for the chief place.
+
+31. "He would not give a pulled hen for that text"; that is, "he cared
+not a straw for it." Pulled = pylled = pilled = plucked.
+
+32. =waterles.= Out of water.
+
+33. =what.= Why, wherefore.
+
+34. =wood.= Mad. Scotch _wud_, wild.
+
+     "An' just as wud as wud can be."--_Burns._
+
+35. =no cost wolde he spare.= For this pleasure he spared no expense.
+
+36. "That shone like the fire under a cauldron."
+
+37. =lymytour.= One who was licensed to beg within a limited territory.
+
+38. =ordres foure.= The Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and
+the Augustine Friars.
+
+39. =post.= Pillar, support. Compare with the modern expression, "A pillar
+of the church."
+
+40. =frankeleyns.= Country gentlemen; wealthy landholders.
+
+41. =licentiat.= He had license from the pope to grant absolution in all
+cases. A curate's powers did not extend so far.
+
+42. "Where he knew he would have."
+
+43. See note 27, above.
+
+44. =sellers of vitaille.= Givers of food, or a livelihood. The original
+meaning of the word _sell_ was to _give_. From A.-S. _syllan_, to give.
+
+45. "In the beginning." The first words of St. John's Gospel in the
+Vulgate.
+
+46. =purchas.= Income from begging.
+
+47. =lovë-dayës.= Days appointed for the amicable settlement of
+differences, without recourse to law.
+
+48. "He wished the sea were guarded." =Middelburgh=, a port in the
+Netherlands. =Orëwelle=, a port in Essex.
+
+49. =scheeldës.= French crowns marked with a shield. Shillings.
+
+50. =Oxenford.= Not the "ford of the ox," but the "ford of the river."
+_Ox_, from Celtic _esk_, _ouse_, water.
+
+51. The word _right_ used, as here, in the sense of _very_ is now
+considered a vulgarism. "A Southerner would say, 'It rains right
+hard.'"--_Bartlett._
+
+52. =sawtryë.= Psaltery, a Greek instrument of music.
+
+53. =sownynge.= Sounding; that is, in consonance with. =Sentence=
+= sense. So, also, construe =forme= and =reverence=, above, as meaning
+_propriety and modesty_.
+
+
+ON READING CHAUCER.
+
+"'How few there are who can read Chaucer so as to understand him
+perfectly,' says Dryden, apologizing for 'translating' him. In our day,
+with the wider spread of historical study, with the numerous helps to
+Old English that the care of scholars has produced for us, with the
+purification that Chaucer's text has undergone, this saying of Dryden's
+ought not to be true. It ought to be not only possible, but easy, for an
+educated reader to learn the few essentials of Chaucerian grammar, and
+for an ear at all trained to poetry to tune itself to the unfamiliar
+harmonies. For those who make the attempt the reward is certain. They
+will gain the knowledge, not only of the great poet and creative genius,
+but of the master who uses our language with a power, a freedom, a
+variety, a rhythmic beauty, that, in five centuries, not ten of his
+successors have been found able to rival."--_T. H. Ward._
+
+The peculiarities of diction and grammar which distinguish Chaucer's
+poetry seem to make its reading and comprehension difficult and often
+discourage the student at the outset. A very little study, however, will
+show that the difficulties in the way are not nearly so great as they at
+first appear, and, after a little patient practice in reading, they will
+disappear entirely. By observing the following rules you will soon
+acquire the ability to read with a fluency which will be highly pleasing
+to you:
+
+1. Final _e_ should be pronounced as a separate syllable whenever the
+metre demands it.
+
+2. In all words of French origin, such as viságe, coráge, maniér, the
+final syllable is accented.
+
+The greatest difficulty in reading Chaucer arises from the antiquated
+manner in which the words are spelled; but if the reader will change an
+occasional _y_ to _i_, and drop a final _e_ or a final _n_, here and
+there, the words which seemed at first so strange will appear more
+familiar to the eye and the understanding.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+GEOFFREY CHAUCER, "the morning-star of English poetry," was born in
+London in 1328,--according to some authorities, in 1340. He was the son
+of a vintner, and at an early age became acquainted with many persons of
+distinction. He was a page in the household of Prince Lionel, and
+afterwards valet and squire to Edward III. In 1372 he was sent abroad as
+a royal envoy, and on his return he was made Controller of the Customs
+In London. In the meantime he had married Philippa Rouet, one of the
+queen's maids of honor, a sister to the wife of John of Gaunt. Being
+thus closely related to one of the most powerful members of the royal
+family, he was often employed in important and honorable commissions
+connected with the government. In 1386 he was member of Parliament for
+Kent, and in 1389 was appointed Clerk of the King's Works, at Windsor.
+He died in 1400, and was buried in Westminster Abbey,--"the first of the
+long line of poets whose ashes make that edifice illustrious." His
+poetical history has been divided by Mr. Furnivall into four periods:
+(1) up to 1371, during which he wrote the "A B C" the "Compleynte to
+Pité," the "Boke of the Duchesse," and the "Compleynte of Mars"; (2)
+from 1372 to 1381, which saw the production of "Troylus and Criseyde,"
+"Anelida," and the "Former Age"; (3) from 1381 to 1389, during which his
+best works appeared, the "Parlament of Foules," the "House of Fame," the
+"Legende of Goode Women," and some of the "Canterbury Tales"; (4) from
+1389 to the close of his life, in which period the remainder of the
+"Canterbury Tales" and some short poems were written.
+
+M. Taine says, "Chaucer is like a jeweller with his hands full; pearls
+and glass beads, sparkling diamonds and common agates, black jet and
+ruby roses, all that history and imagination had been able to gather and
+fashion during three centuries in the East, in France, in Wales, in
+Provence, in Italy, all that had rolled his way, clashed together,
+broken or polished by the stream of centuries, and by the grand jumble
+of human memory, he holds in his hand, arranges it, composes therefrom a
+long sparkling ornament, with twenty pendants, a thousand facets, which
+by its splendor, variety, contrasts, may attract and satisfy the eyes of
+those most greedy for amusement and novelty."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Knight's Tale; The Clerk's Tale; The Man of
+Law's Tale; The Legende of Goode Women; The Parlament of Foules; The
+House of Fame; Chaucer's A B C.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Lowell's _My Study Windows_; Marsh's _Origin and History of
+the English Language_; Charles Cowden Clarke's _The Riches of Chaucer_;
+Morley's _English Writers_, vol. v; Carpenter's _English of the XIV
+Century_; Taine's _English Literature_; Lounsbury's _Studies in
+Chaucer_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX TO NOTES.
+
+
+     accloyes, 234.
+
+     afoir, 282.
+
+     aft, 106.
+
+     Age of Gold, 79, 192.
+
+     Ajax, 147.
+
+     Akenside, Mark, 96.
+
+     amaist, 106.
+
+     ance, 106.
+
+     "Annus Mirabilis," 173.
+
+     antickes, 234.
+
+     Aonian, 208.
+
+     Apollo, 74.
+
+     apparelled, 46.
+
+     Arnold, Matthew, 16.
+
+     Arthur's Seat, 254.
+
+     Arvon, 136.
+
+     Ashtaroth, 194.
+
+     assay, 275.
+
+     assuasive, 154.
+
+     awfull, 189.
+
+     axle-tree, 189.
+
+     ay, 282.
+
+     Aytoun, William Edmondstoune, 16.
+
+
+     Baalim, 194.
+
+     Bacchus, 87, 166.
+
+     bairns, 105.
+
+     baldric, 25.
+
+     Ballads, 265.
+
+     Beattie, James, 96.
+
+     bede, 275.
+
+     bedight, 233.
+
+     beets, 105.
+
+     belyve, 106.
+
+     ben, 105.
+
+     bield, 109.
+
+     birkie, 110.
+
+     Blair, Robert, 96.
+
+     Blake, William, 96.
+
+     blate, 106.
+
+     blinkin, 106.
+
+     Boadicea, 114.
+
+     boding, 127.
+
+     bonnet, 105.
+
+     bracer, 299.
+
+     brae, 254.
+
+     braw, 106.
+
+     bray, 137.
+
+     Browne, William, 158.
+
+     Browning, Robert, 16.
+
+     Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 16.
+
+     brutish, 194.
+
+     Bulwer-Lytton, Robert, 16.
+
+     burn-side, 254.
+
+     Burns, Robert, 111.
+
+     busk, 254.
+
+     buskin, 139.
+
+     Butler, Samuel, 158.
+
+     Byron, Lord, 16.
+
+
+     ca', 105.
+
+     Cambria, 135.
+
+     Camelot, 24.
+
+     Camilla, 147.
+
+     Campbell, Thomas, 16.
+
+     cannie, 106.
+
+     Carew, Thomas, 158.
+
+     carking, 106.
+
+     castamergia, 271.
+
+     cataracts, 46.
+
+     Chapman, George, 216.
+
+     Chatterton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Chaucer, Geoffrey, 301.
+
+     Chepe, 275.
+
+     Christabel, 64.
+
+     Churchill, Charles, 96.
+
+     chyvalrye, 298.
+
+     claes, 106.
+
+     Clarius, 208.
+
+     close, 190.
+
+     Clough, Arthur Hugh, 16.
+
+     Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 65.
+
+     Collins, William, 96.
+
+     conceit, 145.
+
+     concern, 119.
+
+     consort, 192.
+
+     convoy, 106.
+
+     coof, 110.
+
+     coot, 27.
+
+     coronal, 47.
+
+     cotter, 104.
+
+     Cowley, Abraham, 158.
+
+     Cowper, William, 122.
+
+     Crabbe, George, 96.
+
+     cracks, 106.
+
+     Crashaw, Richard, 158.
+
+     craws, 106.
+
+     crew, 168.
+
+     Cristofre, 299.
+
+     crynis, 282.
+
+     Cynthia, 190.
+
+
+     dædal, 74.
+
+     Daniel, Samuel, 216.
+
+     Darius, 166.
+
+     darkling, 87.
+
+     Davenant, Sir William, 158.
+
+     Davies, Sir John, 216.
+
+     deid, 282.
+
+     Delphos, 193.
+
+     demi-gods, 154.
+
+     Denham, Sir John, 158.
+
+     denty, 281.
+
+     deposit, 105.
+
+     dicht, 282.
+
+     docht, 282.
+
+     Donne, John, 216.
+
+     Douglas, Gawain, 284.
+
+     dragon, 193.
+
+     Drayton, Michael, 216.
+
+     Drummond, William, 158.
+
+     dryad, 86.
+
+     Dryden, John, 175.
+
+     Dunbar, William, 283.
+
+     dusk, 24.
+
+     Dyer, John, 96.
+
+     dyght, 275.
+
+
+     effeires, 281.
+
+     Elysian, 79.
+
+     ene, 281.
+
+     Epipsychidion, 79.
+
+     ere, 189.
+
+     esperance, 278.
+
+     eydent, 106.
+
+     eyn, 195.
+
+
+     fallow, 281.
+
+     fassoun, 278.
+
+     Fates, 137.
+
+     Fauns, 73.
+
+     feid, 282.
+
+     fell, 106.
+
+     Fergusson, Robert, 96.
+
+     fit, 145.
+
+     Flamins, 194.
+
+     Fletcher, Giles, 158.
+
+     flichterin, 106.
+
+     floytynge, 299.
+
+     fois, 282.
+
+     fond, 139.
+
+     foreland, 27.
+
+     forgit, 281.
+
+     forgoes, 194.
+
+     frankeleyns, 300.
+
+     Fungoso, 146.
+
+     Furies, 167.
+
+
+     galaxy, 25.
+
+     garmond, 278.
+
+     gars, 106.
+
+     Garth, Samuel, 120.
+
+     Gascoigne, George, 216.
+
+     gauge, 127.
+
+     Gay, John, 96.
+
+     genius, 193.
+
+     gere, 275.
+
+     Gernadé, 299.
+
+     gife, 281.
+
+     glaiding, 282.
+
+     glinted, 109.
+
+     gloir, 282.
+
+     Gloster, 136.
+
+     Glover, Richard, 96.
+
+     Goldsmith, Oliver, 128.
+
+     governance, 278.
+
+     gowd, 110.
+
+     Gower, John, 286.
+
+     grant, 282.
+
+     Gray, Thomas, 139.
+
+     gree, 110, 282.
+
+     Green, Matthew, 96.
+
+     Greene, Robert, 216.
+
+     greete, 275.
+
+     griesly, 137.
+
+     grisly, 194.
+
+     gross, 174.
+
+     guerdoun, 282.
+
+
+     ha'-bible, 105.
+
+     haffets, 106.
+
+     hafflins, 106.
+
+     halcyons, 79.
+
+     Hall, Joseph, 216.
+
+     hals-ribbane, 278.
+
+     halsit, 281.
+
+     Hammon, 194.
+
+     harbinger, 188.
+
+     hauberk, 135.
+
+     haut-boys, 166.
+
+     Hawes, Stephen, 268.
+
+     hawkie, 105.
+
+     Henryson, Robert, 283.
+
+     Herbert, George, 158.
+
+     Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, 158.
+
+     hern, 27.
+
+     Herrick, Robert, 202.
+
+     Hesperus, 80.
+
+     hethenesse, 298.
+
+     hinges, 191.
+
+     Hippocrene, 86.
+
+     histie, 109.
+
+     Hoel, 136.
+
+     hoiss, 278.
+
+     Hood, Thomas, 16.
+
+     Howard, Henry, 252.
+
+     hud, 278.
+
+     Hunt, Leigh, 16.
+
+     hyed, 275.
+
+     hymeneal, 71.
+
+
+     ilk, 282.
+
+     influence, 189.
+
+     ingle, 106.
+
+     Ionian, 79.
+
+     ipocras, 271.
+
+     i-ronne, 298.
+
+     Isis, 194.
+
+     its, 190.
+
+     Ixion, 154.
+
+
+     Japhet, 209.
+
+     Johnson, Samuel, 96.
+
+     jollity, 46.
+
+     Jonson, Ben, 213.
+
+
+     Keats, John, 93.
+
+     kebbuck, 106.
+
+     key, 174.
+
+     Kingsley, Charles, 16.
+
+     kirtill, 278.
+
+     kye, 105.
+
+
+     laif, 281.
+
+     Lamb, Charles, 16.
+
+     Landor, Walter Savage, 16.
+
+     Langland, William, 286.
+
+     lasit, 278.
+
+     lathefu', 106.
+
+     lave, 106.
+
+     lawn, 189.
+
+     lays, 104.
+
+     lemys, 281.
+
+     lesum, 278.
+
+     Lethe, 86.
+
+     letted, 173.
+
+     licentiate, 300.
+
+     lichtlie, 254.
+
+     Lodge, Thomas, 216.
+
+     love-days, 300.
+
+     Lovelace, Richard, 158.
+
+     Lucifer, 80, 189.
+
+     lufe, 278.
+
+     lukit, 281.
+
+     lyart, 106.
+
+     Lydgate, John, 283.
+
+     Lydian, 167.
+
+     Lyly, John, 216.
+
+     lymytour, 300.
+
+     lyst, 275.
+
+
+     Macaulay, Thomas B., 16.
+
+     Mænalus, 74.
+
+     maiden (_adj._), 188.
+
+     mailyheis, 278.
+
+     mansuetude, 281.
+
+     Marlowe, Christopher, 216.
+
+     martir, 298.
+
+     Marvell, Andrew, 158.
+
+     May, 47.
+
+     mede, 275.
+
+     mekill, 282.
+
+     mend, 146.
+
+     "Meredith, Owen," 16.
+
+     Milnes, Richard Monckton, 16.
+
+     Milton, John, 195.
+
+     moil, 106.
+
+     Moore, Thomas, 16.
+
+     morrow, 281.
+
+     Mortimer, 136.
+
+     mould, 192.
+
+     muddir, 281.
+
+     Mulciber, 234.
+
+     Muses, 153.
+
+
+     neibor, 105.
+
+     noise, 190.
+
+     numbers, 147.
+
+
+     Occleve, Thomas, 268.
+
+     or, 189, 298.
+
+     oracles, 193.
+
+     organs, 168.
+
+     Orpheus, 154.
+
+     Orus, 194.
+
+     Oxenford, 300.
+
+     Osiris, 195.
+
+
+     pad, 24.
+
+     Palatye, 299.
+
+     Pan, 190.
+
+     pansy, 47.
+
+     pansing, 278.
+
+     paramour, 80, 188.
+
+     pards, 87.
+
+     Parnassus, 146.
+
+     Parnell, Thomas, 96.
+
+     passing, 126.
+
+     patelet, 278.
+
+     peir, 282.
+
+     Peneus, 73, 243.
+
+     penny-fee, 105.
+
+     Peor, 194.
+
+     pescodes, 275.
+
+     philargyria, 271.
+
+     Phlegethon, 154.
+
+     pies, 208.
+
+     pine (_v._), 71.
+
+     Plinlimmon, 136.
+
+     plum, 120.
+
+     Pope, Alexander, 155.
+
+     pourall, 282.
+
+     prevent, 188.
+
+     Procter, Adelaide, 16.
+
+     Procter, Bryan Waller, 16.
+
+     profuse, 71.
+
+     Prothalamion, 241.
+
+     Provençal, 86.
+
+     Pruce, 299.
+
+     puissance, 282.
+
+
+     quality, 147.
+
+     quhen, 281.
+
+     quhois, 281.
+
+     quhome, 282.
+
+     quhyll, 281.
+
+
+     Raleigh, Sir Walter, 216.
+
+     Ramsay, Allan, 96.
+
+     reedes (_v._), 233.
+
+     reid, 282.
+
+     requiem, 87.
+
+     rewth, 278.
+
+     Rhodope, 155.
+
+     Robin Hood, 265.
+
+     rois, 281, 282.
+
+     rutty, 242.
+
+     ryshes, 275.
+
+
+     sacerdotal, 106.
+
+     Sackville, Thomas, 216.
+
+     Saint Agnes, 93.
+
+     Saint Cecilia, 168.
+
+     salvage, 233.
+
+     sanct, 282.
+
+     Sandys, George, 158.
+
+     sark, 278.
+
+     sawtrye, 300.
+
+     scho, 278.
+
+     schone, 278.
+
+     Scott, Sir Walter, 16.
+
+     seeke, 298.
+
+     seeken, 298.
+
+     seeliest, 212.
+
+     seill, 278.
+
+     seraphim, 191.
+
+     session, 193.
+
+     set, 278.
+
+     Shakespeare, William, 221.
+
+     Shelley, Percy B., 81.
+
+     shend, 244.
+
+     Shenstone, William, 96.
+
+     sic, 281.
+
+     sickerness, 278.
+
+     Sidney, Philip, 216.
+
+     Sileni, 73.
+
+     silly, 190.
+
+     Simoïs, 174.
+
+     simonia, 271.
+
+     Sisyphus, 154.
+
+     site, 282.
+
+     Skelton, John, 272.
+
+     skylark, 71.
+
+     Snowdon, 135.
+
+     socks, 213.
+
+     sort, 146.
+
+     Southey, Robert, 16.
+
+     sovran, 189.
+
+     sowninge, 300.
+
+     sowpe, 106.
+
+     sparks, 146.
+
+     spede, 275.
+
+     speiris, 281.
+
+     Spenser, Edmund, 245.
+
+     sphear, 188.
+
+     spiers, 106.
+
+     splene, 281.
+
+     spread, 193.
+
+     sprite, 71.
+
+     stables, 298.
+
+     stacher, 106.
+
+     stage, 48.
+
+     Star Chamber, 271.
+
+     steep, 119.
+
+     store, 243.
+
+     stoure, 109.
+
+     strook, 190.
+
+     Styx, 154.
+
+     Suckling, Sir John, 158.
+
+     sugh, 104.
+
+     Surrey, Earl of, 252.
+
+     Swan of Avon, 213.
+
+     swindges, 193.
+
+     Sylvans, 73.
+
+     Syrinx, 74.
+
+
+     Tabard, 298.
+
+     tabor, 46.
+
+     Taliessin, 138.
+
+     Tennyson, Alfred, 35.
+
+     tentie, 106.
+
+     tepat, 278.
+
+     terms, 127.
+
+     Thais, 166.
+
+     Thammuz, 194.
+
+     tholl, 278.
+
+     Thomson, James, 96.
+
+     thorps, 27.
+
+     thrissil, 281.
+
+     till, 282.
+
+     Timotheus, 147, 166.
+
+     "tirra lirra," 25.
+
+     Titans, 241.
+
+     Tmolus, 73.
+
+     toil, 104.
+
+     trailed, 24.
+
+     train, 104.
+
+     trump, 192.
+
+     turtle, 188.
+
+     tynis, 282.
+
+     Typhon, 195.
+
+
+     udir, 281.
+
+     uncos, 106.
+
+     undersong, 244.
+
+     unexpressive, 191.
+
+
+     Vaughan, Henry, 158.
+
+     vermeil, 243.
+
+
+     wales, 106.
+
+     Waller, Edmund, 205.
+
+     Warner, William, 216.
+
+     warp, 137.
+
+     Warton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Watson, Thomas, 216.
+
+     weet, 109.
+
+     weid, 281.
+
+     weiris, 281.
+
+     weit, 278.
+
+     weltering, 191.
+
+     which, 245.
+
+     whilome, 234.
+
+     whist, 189.
+
+     wicht, 282.
+
+     wight, 233.
+
+     wilding, 51.
+
+     wiles, 106.
+
+     wisards, 188.
+
+     wit, 145.
+
+     Wither, George, 158.
+
+     wold, 24.
+
+     wonne, 234.
+
+     wont, 187.
+
+     wood, 300.
+
+     Wordsworth, William, 52.
+
+     wrought, 71.
+
+     Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 252.
+
+
+     ychain'd, 192.
+
+     yede, 275.
+
+     yode, 233.
+
+     Young, Edward, 96.
+
+     youngling, 106.
+
+     'yont, 106.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+Ellipses match the original.
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the orginal.
+
+The following words use an oe ligature in the original:
+
+     Boeotia       Phoenicia
+     Meliboeus     Phoenicians
+     Oeagrus
+
+The following corrections have been made to the text:
+
+     Page 79: Dante's _Vita Nuova_.[original has extraneous
+     quotation mark]
+
+     Page 81: full age of man, he might not[original has extraneous
+     comma] improbably
+
+     Page 124: Near yonder copse, where once the garden
+     smiled,[original has superscripted 1 at the end of the line]
+
+     Page 146: _Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i[original has ii]
+     sc. i.
+
+     Page 146: versification of the "Faerie Queene," page
+     232[original has 234]
+
+     Page 303: chyvalrye[original has chyvalyre], 298.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30235 ***
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+Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Six Centuries of English Poetry
+       Tennyson to Chaucer
+
+Author: James Baldwin
+
+Release Date: October 11, 2009 [EBook #30235]
+
+Language: EN
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Lisa Reigel, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
+corrected. A complete list follows the text. Words italicized in the
+original are surrounded by _underscores_. Words in bold in the original
+are surrounded by =equal signs=. Characters superscripted in the original
+are inclosed in {} brackets. More Transcriber's Notes follow the text.
+
+
+                       Select English Classics
+
+
+
+
+                       SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH
+                                POETRY
+
+                         TENNYSON TO CHAUCER
+
+                  _TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM THE GREAT
+                                POETS_
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                         JAMES BALDWIN, PH.D.
+
+                      AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK LOVER"
+                              ETC., ETC.
+
+
+                      SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
+                 NEW YORK . . . BOSTON . . . CHICAGO
+
+
+                           COPYRIGHT 1892,
+                    BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
+
+
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
+
+
+This is the first volume of a series of SELECT ENGLISH CLASSICS which
+the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an
+extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of
+English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in
+schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens
+from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose;
+selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; choice extracts from the writings
+of the great essayists; selections from famous English allegories; a
+volume of elegies and elegiacal poetry; studies of English prose
+fiction, with illustrative specimens, etc. Each volume will contain
+copious notes, critical, explanatory, and biographical, besides the
+necessary vocabularies, glossaries, and indexes; and the series when
+complete will present a varied and comprehensive view of all that is
+best in English literature. For supplementary reading, as well as for
+systematic class instruction, the books will possess many peculiarly
+valuable as well as novel features; while their attractive appearance,
+combined with the sterling quality of their contents, will commend them
+for general reading and make them desirable acquisitions for every
+library.
+
+
+
+
+TO TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.
+
+
+There is but one study more interesting than the history of literature,
+and that is the study of literature itself. That the former should often
+be mistaken for the latter is scarcely to be wondered at when we
+consider the intimate and almost indivisible relationship existing
+between them. Yet, in truth, they are as capable of separate
+consideration as are music and the history of music.
+
+[Sidenote: Anglo-Saxon Poetry.]
+
+[Sidenote: The Transition Period.]
+
+Any careful investigation of the history of English poetry would
+naturally begin at a point of time some six or seven hundred years
+earlier than that of Chaucer. From such investigation we should learn
+that even as early as the ninth century--perhaps, indeed, the
+eighth--there were in England some composers of verse in the Anglo-Saxon
+tongue; that the songs of these poets were chiefly of religion or of
+war, and that being written in a language very different from our modern
+English they can scarcely be considered as belonging properly to our
+literature; that among them, however, is a noble poem, "Beowulf," the
+oldest epic of any modern people, which was probably sung or recited by
+pagan minstrels long before it was written down in permanent form; that,
+after the conquest of England by the Normans, the early language of the
+English people underwent a long and tedious process of transition,--a
+blending, in a certain sense, with the Latinized and more polished
+tongue of their conquerors,--and that the result was the language which
+we now call English and are proud to claim as our own; that it was about
+three hundred years after the Norman Conquest, namely, in 1362, that
+this new tongue was officially recognized and authorized to be used in
+the courts at law throughout the land; and that about the same time
+Geoffrey Chaucer composed and wrote his first poems. We should learn,
+moreover, that, during the transition period mentioned above, there were
+many attempts at writing poetry, resulting in the production of tedious
+metrical romances (chiefly translated from the French) and interminable
+rhyming chronicles, pleasing, of course, to the people of that time, but
+wholly devoid of poetic excellence and unspeakably dull to modern
+readers; that these poems, so called, were little better than rhymed
+doggerels, written in couplets of eight-syllabled lines and having for
+their subjects the miraculous deeds of saints and heroes and the
+occurrence of supernatural or impossible phenomena; that the composers
+of these metrical romances and chronicles, although giving free rein to
+the imagination, were utterly destitute of poetic fancy and hence
+produced no true poetry; that, nevertheless, some writer was now and
+then inspired by a flash of real poetic fire, producing a few lines of
+remarkable freshness and beauty,--little lyrics shining forth like gems
+in the great mass of verbiage and rubbish and foretelling the glorious
+possibilities which were to be realized in the future.
+
+[Sidenote: Piers Ploughman.]
+
+Continuing this most interesting study, we should learn that just at the
+time that Chaucer was beginning the composition of his immortal works,
+there appeared an allegorical poem of considerable length, so earnest in
+tone, so richly imaginative, so full of picturesque descriptions, that
+it seemed rather a fulfilment than a prophecy; that this poem--called
+"The Vision of William concerning Piers Ploughman," and written by an
+obscure monk whose name was probably William Langland--was the greatest
+poem and the most popular that had ever been written in England, and yet
+that it failed in many ways of being true English poetry: its metre was
+irregular, and its rhythm was imperfect; its verses instead of rhyming
+were constructed in accordance with certain rules of alliteration; its
+subjects, while interesting, no doubt, to those for whom it was written,
+were not such as bring into play the highest powers of the imagination
+or incite the poetic fancy to its noblest flights. Then we should learn
+that while the ink from good Langland's pen was yet scarcely dry after
+his third revision of "Piers Ploughman," Geoffrey Chaucer came forward
+with his sweet imaginings bodied in immortal verse, his tuneful numbers,
+his "well of English undefiled,"--and English poetry, which now for more
+than five centuries has been the chief glory of our literature, had its
+true beginning.
+
+[Sidenote: Three Schools of Poetry.]
+
+Pursuing the study on lines which would now be more distinctly marked,
+we should observe that Chaucer's best poetry, as well as that of the
+poets who followed him in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was
+distinguished by its truthfulness to nature, by its expression in hearty
+and harmonious words of the finer emotions of the soul, and by the
+freedom and elasticity of its versification. We should learn that in the
+seventeenth century this style of poetry--sometimes called the
+romantic--was succeeded by another and very different fashion in poetic
+composition, introduced into England in imitation of continental and
+classical models: that this new style of versification--ignoring nature
+and making everything subservient to art--was purely artificial,
+characterized by "an oratorical pomp, a classical correctness, a
+theatrical dressing, abundance of moralizing"; and that, with Waller for
+its sponsor and Dryden and Pope for its high priests, it remained for a
+century and a half the favorite of the literary world, the model of
+poetic diction, the standard of poetic taste. We should learn that,
+towards the end of the eighteenth century, certain writers began to
+perceive that although attention to artistic rules in composition may be
+necessary to the best poetry, yet natural feeling, a cultivated
+imagination, and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations
+are even more indispensable; that these writers, rebelling against the
+established order of things, taught that there are elements of true
+poetry in the popular ballads of earlier times, that even the wearisome
+metrical romances of the Middle Ages are rich in suggestiveness and in
+materials for a nobler poetry, and that, instead of going to the
+classics and to society for subjects and models, the poet may find them
+in nature, in the life which is about him, and in a thousand sources
+never before suspected. Finally, we should learn that, at the very time
+when great revolutions in politics and philosophy were being
+inaugurated, a new spirit thus began to manifest itself in our
+literature,--a spirit of revolt against artificial restrictions and
+traditional methods,--which produced a glorious revival in English
+poetic composition and ushered in a third great school of poetry,
+distinguished for its breadth and freedom, as that which it superseded
+had been known for its elegance and precision.[6:1]
+
+[Sidenote: The History of English Poetry.]
+
+A study of the development of English poetry such as we have outlined
+above would involve a knowledge of the history of the English people and
+of the various circumstances and events which from time to time
+influenced our language and literature. It would also embrace many other
+topics, biographical, philological, rhetorical, and speculative, which
+have only a secondary relationship to the central idea of poetry. In
+fact, it would be a study not of poetry, but about poetry,--of the
+circumstances which suggested it, of the men who produced it, and of the
+origin of the word-forms and methods of versification which distinguish
+it. Such a study, altogether interesting and eminently profitable though
+it be, should not be undertaken by any student until he has acquired an
+extensive personal acquaintance with poetry itself. We may enjoy the
+beautiful creations of Tennyson, of Shelley, of Burns, even of Chaucer,
+without knowing one word of the history of poetry, without so much as
+knowing the names of the writers or the circumstances under which they
+wrote. But, on the other hand, to him who knows nothing of the
+masterpieces of our literature, save at second hand, the history of
+English letters must of necessity be dull, uninteresting, and often
+unintelligible. While to him who has prepared himself for its study by
+fitting himself for an appreciation of these noble creations and
+becoming thoroughly imbued with their spirit, what a field of delightful
+study does it offer!
+
+[Sidenote: Object of this Book.]
+
+[Sidenote: Methods of Study.]
+
+The object of the present compilation is to aid in this preparatory
+work,--that is, to offer a plan for promoting the study OF poetry before
+the broader but less important study ABOUT poetry is undertaken. To this
+end we present for the student's consideration a few representative
+poems written at different times and by men of widely different tastes
+and talents during the six centuries which may be said to have elapsed
+since the formation of the modern English tongue. Our chief aim is to
+lead to such a study of these selections as shall help the reader to
+perceive and appreciate their true poetic qualities and enter into full
+sympathy with the thoughts and feelings which their writers intended to
+express. The first object to be sought in the study of these poems is
+the perception of those characteristic excellences which have made them
+universally admired and placed them among the classics of our language.
+To accomplish this object rationally and successfully, it is best to
+begin with those productions which are nearest to us in point of time
+and which are more in harmony with our own thoughts, and therefore
+easiest to understand and enjoy. An attempt to pursue these studies in
+chronological order, beginning with the works of Chaucer and the older
+poets, would oblige the student to encounter at the outset so many
+purely mechanical difficulties that he would fail to discern the
+spiritual qualities of truth, beauty, and goodness, which are the very
+essence of all genuine poetry. He would very naturally acquire a
+distaste for poetry long before he was able to understand it, and while
+he might attain to some considerable knowledge of the history of
+poetical literature, that literature itself would remain to him
+practically a sealed book. Hence, in the study of this subject, as in
+that of other branches, the true method is to present first that which
+is the least difficult, to "proceed from the known to the unknown," to
+begin with that which is near at hand and from it to proceed to the
+consideration of things more remote. Not only are the most of Tennyson's
+poems easily understood, but their beauty is readily apparent even to
+the most superficial readers. By the time we have read and extracted all
+the sweets from three or four of these, we shall be prepared to go a
+step farther and undertake the study of Wordsworth's immortal
+productions,--productions but little more difficult and but little less
+poetic. Thus, step by step, we may review the six centuries of English
+poetry which lie behind, and when at last we reach the time of Chaucer
+we shall be able to take hold of his works with understanding and with
+the zest which is begotten of true sympathy and appreciation. After the
+book has been thus completed, it may be well to run through it again,
+reversing the order of the lessons and this time considering the
+subjects in strict chronological order. Our first study of the book will
+have introduced us to English poetry, our second study of it will have
+given us some insight into the history of its development.
+
+It is well to remember, while pursuing this course, that a taste for
+poetry is not acquired or fostered by an analysis of grammatical forms
+or by any study of words merely as such. To analyze a puzzling sentence
+or to trace the derivation of an interesting word to its roots sometimes
+helps one to understand a difficult expression or to perceive in it a
+meaning hitherto unsuspected; but to make the study of any selection
+consist largely of exercises of this kind is to substitute grammar or
+philology for literature. So, also, should it be borne in mind that
+while it is often interesting and sometimes necessary to become
+acquainted with certain details relative to the life of an author--the
+date of his birth, the character of his education, the influences which
+shaped his life and his work--yet such knowledge belongs to biography
+and is in no sense literature. The study of authors should never be
+substituted for the study of their works, and is usually profitable only
+so far as it helps the student to understand the peculiarities which
+distinguish those works and which are the result of certain personal
+characteristics. And yet it is no uncommon thing to find students
+acquainted with the minutest particulars in the lives of the great
+writers, while of the masterpieces of thought and expression, which are
+the glory of our literature, they betray a deplorable ignorance. Nor is
+this the case with pupils at school alone. "For once that we take down a
+Milton, and read a book of that 'voice,' as Wordsworth says, 'whose
+sound is like the sea,' we take up fifty times a magazine with something
+about Milton, or about Milton's grandmother, or a book stuffed with
+curious facts about the houses in which he lived, and the juvenile
+ailments of his first wife."[9:1]
+
+[Sidenote: Practical Suggestions.]
+
+In the study of the selections contained in this volume, the following
+method is recommended:--
+
+1. The piece should be thoroughly committed to memory.
+
+2. It should be recited or read by each member of the class in such
+manner as to bring out, if possible, his understanding of the meaning of
+every passage.
+
+3. Study the poem as a whole, and let each pupil point out the beauties
+of thought or expression which distinguish it as a poetical composition.
+
+4. Now study each stanza, or each independent thought, in its order, and
+endeavor to understand each word or expression just as the poet intended
+that it should be understood. The Notes appended to most of the
+selections are intended rather to suggest the line of study in this
+regard than to serve as exhaustive aids. The pupil should, so far as
+possible, investigate for himself and make his own discoveries.
+Questions concerning the derivation of words and the syntax of sentences
+are to be discussed only so far as they will aid in the understanding of
+some passage or of the piece as a whole.
+
+5. Learn some of the most important facts connected with the author's
+life. What were the conditions under which he wrote this piece? What was
+the character of his education and of the other influences which shaped
+his life and distinguished his works? Learn what some of the leading
+critics have said concerning his works as a poet.
+
+6. Finally, read the poem again, as a whole, and discuss its qualities
+as a work of literary art, and again point out its distinctive beauties
+and characteristic excellences.
+
+The extracts given at the beginning of each Century will serve to keep
+in mind the leading peculiarities which distinguished the poetry of each
+period; and the lists of poets and their works will be found valuable
+for purposes of reference. Before beginning the study of the selections
+both teacher and pupils should read this Introduction carefully.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[6:1] See the quotation from Taine, page 15.
+
+[9:1] Frederic Harrison: _On the Choice of Books_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+     PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS.
+
+                                                        PAGE
+     INTRODUCTION                                          5
+     THE NINETEENTH CENTURY                               15
+     THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                               95
+     THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY                             157
+     THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY                               215
+     THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY                               267
+     THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY                              285
+     INDEX                                               303
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+     BY ALFRED TENNYSON:--
+         The Lady of Shalott                              17
+         The Brook                                        25
+         The Lotus Eaters                                 28
+
+     BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH:--
+         Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
+            Early Childhood                               37
+         The Two April Mornings                           49
+         The Solitary Reaper                              51
+
+     BY S. T. COLERIDGE:--
+         Christabel. Part I                               55
+
+     BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY:--
+         To a Skylark                                     67
+         Hymn of Pan                                      71
+         From Epipsychidion                               74
+
+     BY JOHN KEATS:--
+         Ode to a Nightingale                             83
+         From The Eve of St. Agnes                        87
+
+     BY ROBERT BURNS:--
+         The Cotter's Saturday Night                      97
+         To a Mountain Daisy                             107
+         For a' that and a' that                         109
+
+     BY WILLIAM COWPER:--
+         Boadicea                                        113
+         On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture           115
+         Epitaph on a Hare                               120
+
+     BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH:--
+         The Village Parson                              124
+         The Village Schoolmaster                        125
+
+     BY THOMAS GRAY:--
+         The Bard                                        129
+
+     BY ALEXANDER POPE:--
+         From the Essay on Criticism                     141
+         Ode on St. Cecilia's Day                        147
+
+     BY JOHN DRYDEN:--
+         Alexander's Feast                               159
+         The Fire of London                              169
+         Reason and Religion                             174
+
+     BY JOHN MILTON:--
+         On the Morning of Christ's Nativity             177
+         Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton                   196
+
+     BY ROBERT HERRICK:--
+         To Phillis                                      197
+         The Mad Maid's Song                             199
+         A Thanksgiving to God                           200
+
+     BY EDMUND WALLER:--
+         Song: Go, lovely Rose                           203
+         Of English Verse                                204
+         On a Girdle                                     205
+
+     BY BEN JONSON:--
+         An Ode to Himself                               207
+         To Cynthia                                      209
+         To the Memory of William Shakespeare            210
+         Herrick's Ode for Ben Jonson                    214
+
+     BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:--
+         Venus's Advice to Adonis on Hunting             217
+         A Morning Song for Imogen                       219
+         Sigh no more, Ladies                            220
+         Sunshine and Cloud (Sonnet xxxiii.)             220
+         The World's Way (Sonnet lxvi.)                  221
+
+     BY EDMUND SPENSER:--
+         The Cave of Mammon                              223
+         Prothalamion; or, a Spousall Verse              235
+
+     BY THOMAS WYATT:--
+         A Love Song                                     247
+         The Courtier's Life                             248
+
+     BY THE EARL OF SURREY:--
+         From Virgil's Æneid                             249
+         Sonnet: Geraldine                               250
+         On the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt                251
+
+     BALLADS:--
+         Waly, waly                                      253
+         Sir Patrick Spens                               255
+         The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington             259
+         Robin Hood and the Widow's three Sons           261
+
+     BY JOHN SKELTON:--
+         To Maystress Margaret Hussey                    269
+         Cardinal Wolsey                                 270
+
+     BY JOHN LYDGATE:--
+         A Visit to London                               273
+         The Golden Age                                  275
+
+     BY ROBERT HENRYSON:--
+         The Garmond of Fair Ladies                      277
+
+     BY WILLIAM DUNBAR:--
+         A May Morning                                   279
+
+     BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS:--
+         In Praise of Honour                             281
+
+     BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER:--
+         From the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales       287
+
+
+
+
+SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY.
+
+
+
+
+The Nineteenth Century.
+
+
+"_Now appeared the English romantic school, a sect of 'dissenters in
+poetry,' who spoke out aloud, kept themselves close together, and
+repelled settled minds by the audacity and novelty of their theories.
+They had violently broken with tradition, and leaped over all classical
+culture, to take their models from the Renaissance and the middle-age.
+They sought, in the old national ballads and ancient poetry of foreign
+lands, the fresh and primitive accent which had been wanting in
+classical literature, and whose presence seemed to them to be a sign of
+truth and beauty. They proposed to adapt to poetry the ordinary language
+of conversation, such as is spoken in the middle and lower classes, and
+to replace studied phrases and a lofty vocabulary by natural tones and
+plebeian words. In place of the classic mould, they tried stanzas,
+sonnets, ballads, blank verse, with the roughness and subdivisions of
+the primitive poets. . . . Some had culled gigantic legends, piled up
+dreams, ransacked the East, Greece, Arabia, the Middle Ages, and
+overloaded the human imagination with hues and fancies from every clime.
+Others had buried themselves in metaphysics and moral philosophy, had
+mused indefatigably on the condition of man, and spent their lives on
+the sublime and the monotonous. Others, making a medley of crime and
+heroism, had conducted, through darkness and flashes of lightning, a
+train of contorted and terrible figures, desperate with remorse,
+relieved by their grandeur. Men wanted to rest after so many efforts and
+so much success. On the going out of the imaginative, sentimental, and
+Satanic school, Tennyson appeared exquisite. All the forms and ideas
+which had pleased them were found in him, but purified, modulated, set
+in a splendid style. He completed an age._"--TAINE.
+
+
+_Poets of the Nineteenth Century._
+
+=William Wordsworth= (1770-1850). See biographical note, page 52.
+
+=Sir Walter Scott= (1771-1832). "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"; "The Lady
+of the Lake"; "Marmion"; "The Lord of the Isles"; short poems.
+
+=Samuel Taylor Coleridge= (1772-1834). See biographical note, page 65.
+
+=Robert Southey= (1774-1843). "Thalaba"; "Roderick, the last of the
+Goths"; "Joan of Arc"; "Madoc"; "The Curse of Kehama"; numerous short
+poems.
+
+=Charles Lamb= (1775-1834). Chiefly short poems.
+
+=Walter Savage Landor= (1775-1864). "Gebir"; and other poems.
+
+=Thomas Campbell= (1777-1844). "Gertrude of Wyoming"; "The Pleasures of
+Hope"; short poems.
+
+=Thomas Moore= (1779-1852). "Irish Melodies"; "Lalla Rookh"; "Rhymes on
+the Road"; "The Loves of the Angels," etc.
+
+=Leigh Hunt= (1784-1859). "Francesca Rimini"; "A Legend of Florence";
+"Stories in Verse," etc.
+
+=Bryan Waller Procter= ("Barry Cornwall") (1787-1874). "A Sicilian Story";
+"English Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Byron= (George Gordon Noel) (1788-1824). "Childe Harold"; "The
+Giaour"; "Bride of Abydos"; "The Corsair"; "Lara"; "Hebrew Melodies";
+"Siege of Corinth"; "Parisina"; "Manfred"; "Don Juan," etc.
+
+=Percy Bysshe Shelley= (1792-1822). See biographical note, page 81.
+
+=John Keats= (1795-1821). See biographical note, page 93.
+
+=Thomas Hood= (1799-1845). Numerous short poems, chiefly humorous.
+
+=Lord Macaulay= (1800-1859). "Lays of Ancient Rome."
+
+=Elizabeth Barrett Browning= (1809-1861). "Prometheus Bound"; "Casa Guidi
+Windows"; "Sonnets from the Portuguese"; "Aurora Leigh"; "Poems before
+Congress"; "Last Poems."
+
+=Alfred Tennyson= (Lord Tennyson) (1809-). See biographical note, page 35.
+
+=Richard Monckton Milnes= (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885). "Historical Poems";
+"Poetry for the People"; "Poems of Many Years."
+
+=Robert Browning= (1812-1889). "Christmas Eve and Easter Day"; "Men and
+Women"; "The Ring and the Book"; "Balaustion's Adventure"; "Fifine at
+the Fair"; "Aristophanes' Apology," etc.
+
+=William Edmondstoune Aytoun= (1813-1865). "Lays of the Scottish
+Cavaliers"; "Ballads of Scotland," etc.
+
+=Arthur Hugh Clough= (1819-1861). "The Bothie"; "Ambarvalia," etc.
+
+=Charles Kingsley= (1819-1875). "Andromeda"; many short poems.
+
+=Matthew Arnold= (1822-1889). "The Strayed Reveller and other Poems";
+"Balder."
+
+=Adelaide Anne Procter= (1825-1864). "Legends and Lyrics"; "A Chaplet of
+Verses."
+
+=Robert Bulwer-Lytton= ("Owen Meredith") (1831-1892). "Lucile"; "Marah,"
+etc.
+
+
+
+
+Alfred Tennyson.
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF SHALOTT.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     On either side the river lie
+     Long fields of barley and of rye,
+     That clothe the wold{1} and meet the sky:
+     And through the fields the road runs by
+         To many-towered Camelot{2};
+     And up and down the people go,
+     Gazing where the lilies blow
+     Round an island there below,
+         The island of Shalott.
+
+     Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
+     Little breezes dusk{3} and shiver
+     Through the wave that runs forever
+     By the island in the river
+         Flowing down to Camelot;
+     Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
+     Overlook a space of flowers,
+     And the silent isle imbowers
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     By the margin, willow-veiled,
+     Slide the heavy barges, trailed{4}
+     By slow horses; and unhailed
+     The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,
+         Skimming down to Camelot:
+     But who hath seen her wave her hand?
+     Or at the casement seen her stand?
+     Or is she known in all the land,
+         The lady of Shalott?
+
+     Only reapers, reaping early
+     In among the bearded barley,
+     Hear a song that echoes cheerly
+     From the river winding clearly,
+         Down to towered Camelot:
+     And by the moon the reaper weary,
+     Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
+     Listening, whispers, "'Tis the fairy
+         Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+PART II.
+
+     There she weaves by night and day
+     A magic web{5} with colors gay.
+     She has heard a whisper say,
+     A curse is on her if she stay
+         To look down to Camelot.
+     She knows not what the curse may be,
+     And so she weaveth steadily,
+     And little other care hath she,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     And moving through a mirror clear
+     That hangs before her all the year,
+     Shadows of the world appear.
+     There she sees the highway near
+         Winding down to Camelot:
+     There the river-eddy whirls,
+     And there the surly village-churls,
+     And the red cloaks of market girls
+         Pass onward from Shalott.
+
+     Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
+     An abbott on an ambling pad,{6}
+     Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad
+     Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
+         Goes by to towered Camelot;
+     And sometimes through the mirror blue,
+     The knights come riding two and two:
+     She hath no loyal knight and true,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     But in her web she still delights
+     To weave the mirrored magic sights,
+     For often through the silent nights
+     A funeral, with plumes and lights,
+         And music, went to Camelot;
+     Or, when the moon was overhead,
+     Came two young lovers lately wed.
+     "I am half-sick of shadows," said
+         The Lady of Shalott.{7}
+
+
+PART III.
+
+     A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
+     He rode between the barley-sheaves,
+     The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
+     And flamed upon the brazen greaves
+         Of bold Sir Lancelot.
+     A red-cross{8} knight forever kneeled
+     To a lady in his shield
+     That sparkled on the yellow field,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     The gemmy bridle glittered free,
+     Like to some branch of stars we see
+     Hung in the golden Galaxy.{9}
+     The bridle-bells rang merrily
+         As he rode down to Camelot:
+     And from his blazoned baldric{10} slung
+     A mighty silver bugle hung,
+     And as he rode his armor rung,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     All in the blue unclouded weather
+     Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
+     The helmet and the helmet-feather
+     Burned like one burning flame together,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     As often through the purple night,
+     Below the starry clusters bright,
+     Some bearded meteor,{11} trailing light,
+         Moves over still Shalott.
+
+     His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;
+     On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
+     From underneath his helmet flowed
+     His coal-black curls as on he rode,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     From the bank and from the river
+     He flashed{12} into the crystal mirror,
+     "Tirra lirra," by the river{13}
+         Sang Sir Lancelot.
+
+     She left the web, she left the loom,
+     She made three paces through the room,
+     She saw the water-lily bloom,
+     She saw the helmet and the plume,
+         She looked down to Camelot.
+     Out flew the web and floated wide;
+     The mirror cracked from side to side;
+     "The curse is come upon me," cried
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+     In the stormy east-wind straining,
+     The pale yellow woods were waning,
+     The broad stream in his banks complaining,
+     Heavily the low sky raining
+         Over towered Camelot;
+     Down she came and found a boat
+     Beneath a willow left afloat,
+     And round about the prow she wrote,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     And down the river's dim expanse--
+     Like some bold seër in a trance,
+     Seeing all his own mischance--
+     With a glassy countenance
+         Did she look to Camelot.
+     And at the closing of the day
+     She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
+     The broad stream bore her far away,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Lying, robed in snowy white
+     That loosely flew to left and right--
+     The leaves upon her falling light--
+     Through the noises of the night
+         She floated down to Camelot:
+     And as the boat-head wound along
+     The willowy hills and fields among,
+     They heard her singing her last song,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
+     Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
+     Till her blood was frozen slowly,
+     And her eyes were darkened wholly,
+         Turned to towered Camelot;
+     For ere she reached upon the tide
+     The first house by the water-side,
+     Singing in her song she died,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Under tower and balcony,
+     By garden-wall and gallery,
+     A gleaming shape she floated by,
+     A corse between the houses high,
+         Silent into Camelot.
+     Out upon the wharfs they came,
+     Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
+     And round the prow they read her name,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     Who is this? and what is here?
+     And in the lighted palace near
+     Died the sound of royal cheer;
+     And they crossed themselves for fear,
+         All the knights at Camelot;
+     But Lancelot mused a little space;
+     He said, "She has a lovely face;
+     God in his mercy lend her grace,
+         The Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1832. Considered as a picture, or as a series
+of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The story which is here so
+briefly told is founded upon a touching legend connected with the
+romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tennyson
+afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the _Idyll_ called "Elaine,"
+wherein he followed more closely the original narrative as related by
+Sir Thomas Malory.
+
+Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the Round
+Table, and for him Elaine, "the fair maid of Astolat," conceived a
+hopeless passion. "Her love was platonic and pure as that of a child,
+but it was masterful in its strength." Having learned that Lancelot was
+pledged to celibacy, she pined away and died. But before her death she
+called her brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write,
+she spake thus:
+
+"'While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand, and
+my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be put in
+a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have about me, and so let
+my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot to the next
+place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a barge, and but
+one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barge
+be covered with black samite over and over.' . . . So when she was dead,
+the corpse and the bed and all was led the next way unto the Thames, and
+there all were put in a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the
+barge to Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or
+any man espied."[23:A] At length the King and his Knights, coming down
+to the waterside, and seeing the boat and the lily maid of Astolat, they
+uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.
+
+     "But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,
+      Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all:
+      'Most noble Lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,
+      I, sometime called the maid of Astolat,
+      Come, for you left me taking no farewell,
+      Hither, to take my last farewell of you.
+      I loved you, and my love had no return,
+      And therefore my true love has been my death. . . .
+      Pray for my soul and yield me burial.
+      Pray for my soul thou too Sir Lancelot,
+      As thou art a knight peerless.'"[24:A]
+
+And so the maid was buried, "not as one unknown, nor meanly, but with
+gorgeous obsequies, and mass and rolling music, like a queen. And the
+story of her dolorous voyage was blazoned on her tomb in letters gold
+and azure."
+
+
+1. =wold.= An open tract of hilly country, where but few trees are left.
+This word is more frequently used, however, to designate a forest or
+thick wood.
+
+2. =Camelot.= It is supposed that this Camelot was Winchester. It was the
+seat of King Arthur's court, and visitors are still shown the remains of
+what appear to have been certain kinds of intrenchments, which the
+inhabitants call "King Arthur's Palace." Sir Thomas Malory says: "Sir
+Ballin's sword was put into marble stone, standing it upright as a great
+millstone, and it swam down the stream to the city of Camelot, that is,
+in English, Wincheste." There was another Camelot, also King Arthur's
+capital, on the river Camel, in Cornwall, to which Shakespeare makes
+reference in _King Lear_, II, ii. Tennyson, in "Gareth and Lynette,"
+describes the appearance of the city when approached in the early
+morning:
+
+     "Far off they saw the silver-misty morn
+      Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,
+      That rose between the forest and the field.
+      At times the summit of the high city flash'd;
+      At times the spires and turrets half-way down
+      Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great gate shone
+      Only, that open'd on the field below:
+      Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd."
+
+3. =dusk.= Produce a ruffled surface. A very rare use of this word. The
+river referred to is probably the Thames.
+
+4. =trailed.= Lat. _traho_, to draw; Dutch _treilen_, to tow. What picture
+is presented to the imagination in the first five lines of this stanza?
+How do the barges differ in appearance and movement from the shallop
+mentioned two lines below?
+
+5. =web.= Anything woven. =stay.= Stop.
+
+6. =pad.= An easy-going saddle-horse; a palfrey. Describe the picture
+which is presented in this stanza.
+
+7. Explain the meaning of the Lady's exclamation.
+
+8. =red-cross knight.= A Knight wearing a red cross. One of King Arthur's
+Knights. The red-cross Knight in Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ symbolizes
+holiness.
+
+     "And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
+      The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
+      For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
+      And dead, as living ever, him ador'd;
+      Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
+      For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
+      Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;
+      But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
+      Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."
+
+9. =Galaxy.= The milky-way. Gr. _gala_, _galaktos_, milk.
+
+10. =baldric.= A belt thrown over the shoulder. From Lat. _balteus_.
+
+11. =bearded meteor.= A shooting-star emitting rays of light in the
+direction in which it moves. The beard of a comet is the light which it
+throws out in front of it, in distinction from the tail or rays behind.
+
+12. =He flashed.= His image was thrown upon and reflected from.
+
+13. "=Tirra lirra.=" French _tire lire_. Probably intended to imitate the
+note of the lark.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[23:A] Malory's King Arthur, Part III.
+
+[24:A] Tennyson's Elaine.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+     I come from haunts of coot{1} and hern,{2}
+       I make a sudden sally,
+     And sparkle out among the fern,
+       To bicker{3} down a valley.
+
+     By thirty hills I hurry down,
+       Or slip between the ridges,
+     By twenty thorps,{4} a little town,
+       And half a hundred bridges.
+
+     Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I chatter over stony ways,
+       In little sharps and trebles,
+     I bubble into eddying bays,
+       I babble on the pebbles.
+
+     With many a curve my banks I fret
+       By many a field and fallow,
+     And many a fairy foreland{5} set
+       With willow-weed and mallow.
+
+     I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I wind about, and in and out,
+       With here a blossom sailing,
+     And here and there a lusty trout,
+       And here and there a grayling,
+
+     And here and there a foamy flake
+       Upon me, as I travel,
+     With many a silvery waterbreak
+       Above the golden gravel,
+
+     And draw them all along, and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+       I slide by hazel{6} covers;
+     I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+       That grow for happy lovers.
+
+     I slip, I slide, I gloom,{7} I glance,
+       Among my skimming swallows;
+     I make the netted sunbeams dance
+       Against my shady shallows.
+
+     I murmur under moon and stars
+       In brambly wildernesses;
+     I linger by my shingly{8} bars;
+       I loiter round my cresses;
+
+     And out again I curve and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This little lyric forms a part of "an idyl" of the same title, published
+in 1855. The poet introduces it in the following manner:
+
+     "Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East
+      And he to Italy--too late--too late:
+      . . . . . . . . . Yet the brook he loved
+      . . . . . . . seems, as I re-listen to it,
+      Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,
+      To me that loved him; for, 'O brook,' he says,
+      'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
+      'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies:
+        'I come from haunts of coot and hern,'" etc.
+
+In reading this poem, observe how strikingly the sound is made to
+correspond to the sense.
+
+
+1. =coot.= A wild water-fowl, resembling the duck.
+
+2. =hern.= Heron.
+
+3. =bicker.= To move unsteadily.
+
+4. =thorps.= Small villages. A. S. _thorpe_. From Ger. _trupp_, a troop.
+
+5. =foreland.= A promontory.
+
+6. =hazel covers.= Hazel thickets.
+
+7. =gloom.= Glimmer, shine obscurely.
+
+8. =shingly.= Gravelly.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOTOS-EATERS.
+
+
+     "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;
+     "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
+     In the afternoon they came unto a land,
+     In which it seemed always afternoon.
+     All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
+     Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
+     Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
+     And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
+     Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
+
+     A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
+     Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
+     And some through wavering lights and shadows broke
+     Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
+     They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
+     From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
+     Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
+     Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
+     Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
+
+     The charmed sunset lingered low adown
+     In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale
+     Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
+     Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
+     And meadow, set with slender galingale;
+     A land where all things always seemed the same!
+     And round about the keel with faces pale,
+     Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
+     The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
+
+     Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
+     Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
+     To each, but whoso did receive of them,
+     And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
+     Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave
+     On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
+     His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
+     And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
+     And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
+
+     They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
+     Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
+     And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
+     Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore
+     Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
+     Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
+     Then some one said, "We will return no more;"
+     And all at once they sang, "Our island home
+     Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."
+
+
+
+
+CHORIC SONG.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There is sweet music here that softer falls
+     Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
+     Or night-dews on still waters between walls
+     Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
+     Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
+     Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
+     Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
+     Here are cool mosses deep.
+     And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
+     And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
+     And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.
+
+
+II.
+
+     Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
+     And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
+     While all things else have rest from weariness?
+     All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
+     We only toil, who are the first of things,
+     And make perpetual moan,
+     Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
+     Nor ever fold our wings,
+     And cease from wanderings,
+     Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
+     Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
+     "There is no joy but calm!"
+     Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?
+
+
+III.
+
+     Lo! in the middle of the wood,
+     The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud
+     With winds upon the branch, and there
+     Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
+     Sun-steeped at noon, and in the moon
+     Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
+     Falls, and floats adown the air.
+     Lo! sweetened with the summer light,
+     The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
+     Drops in a silent autumn night.
+     All its allotted length of days,
+     The flower ripens in its place,
+     Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
+     Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
+     Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
+     Death is the end of life; ah, why
+     Should life all labour be?
+     Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
+     And in a little while our lips are dumb.
+     Let us alone. What is it that will last?
+     All things are taken from us, and become
+     Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
+     Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
+     To war with evil? Is there any peace
+     In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
+     All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
+     In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:
+     Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
+
+
+V.
+
+     How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
+     With half-shut eyes ever to seem
+     Falling asleep in a half-dream!
+     To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
+     Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
+     To hear each other's whispered speech;
+     Eating the Lotos day by day,
+     To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
+     And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
+     To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
+     To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
+     To muse and brood and live again in memory,
+     With those old faces of our infancy
+     Heaped over with a mound of grass,
+     Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
+     And dear the last embraces of our wives
+     And their warm tears: but all hath suffered change;
+     For surely now our household hearths are cold:
+     Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
+     And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
+     Or else the island-princes over-bold
+     Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
+     Before them of the ten-years' war in Troy,
+     And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
+     Is there confusion in the little isle?
+     Let what is broken so remain.
+     The gods are hard to reconcile:
+     'Tis hard to settle order once again.
+     There _is_ confusion worse than death,
+     Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
+     Long labour unto aged breath,
+     Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars,
+     And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     But, propped on beds of amaranth and moly,
+     How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
+     With half-dropped eyelids still,
+     Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
+     To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
+     His waters from the purple hill--
+     To hear the dewy echoes calling
+     From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine--
+     To watch the emerald-coloured water falling
+     Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
+     Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
+     Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
+     The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
+     All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
+     Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone
+     Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
+     We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
+     Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was
+         seething free,
+     Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
+     Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
+     In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
+     On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.
+     For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled
+     Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled
+     Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
+     Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
+     Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery
+         sands,
+     Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying
+         hands.
+     But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
+     Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
+     Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;
+     Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
+     Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
+     Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
+     Till they perish and they suffer--some, 'tis whispered, down in hell
+     Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
+     Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
+     Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
+     Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
+     Oh, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
+teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the
+lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew
+water, and straightway my company took their mid-day meal by the swift
+ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink, I sent forth certain of my
+company to go and make search of what manner of men they were who here
+live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and
+sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed
+with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters
+devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste.
+Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no
+more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide
+with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of
+his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and
+sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound
+them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved
+company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any
+should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning."--_Homer's
+Odyssey_, ix, 80.
+
+"In this poem, 'The Lotos-Eaters,' the artistic ideal of the young poet
+(it was written in 1830) found its most finished expression and its
+culminating point. Here he seems to have attained a consciousness that
+beyond the ideal which he had adopted there is another, larger, grander,
+and more satisfying. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the range of poetry, is
+the trance of a listless life so harmoniously married to appropriate
+melodies and appropriate accompaniments."--_North British Review._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1809.
+His early education was received at home from his father, who was rector
+of Somersby and vicar of Bennington and Grimsby. He was afterwards sent
+to Trinity College, Cambridge, where, at the age of twenty, he received
+the chancellor's medal for a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo."
+In 1830 he published a small volume of "Poems chiefly Lyrical." A
+revised edition of this volume, published in 1833, contained "The Lady
+of Shalott," "The Lotos-Eaters," and others of his best-known short
+poems. In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed
+poet-laureate. In the same year he was married to Emily, daughter of
+Henry Sellwood, Esq., and niece of Sir John Franklin. Since 1851,
+Tennyson has resided for the greater part of the time at Farringford,
+Freshwater, Isle of Wight. In December, 1883, he was made Baron Tennyson
+of Aldworth and Freshwater.
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says R. H. Hutton, "was an artist even before he was a
+poet; in other words, the eye for beauty, grace, and harmony of effect
+was even more emphatically one of his original gifts than the voice for
+poetic utterance itself. This, probably, it is which makes his very
+earliest pieces appear so full of effort, and sometimes even so full of
+affectation. They were elaborate attempts to embody what he saw, before
+the natural voice of the poet had come to him. I think it possible to
+trace not only a pre-poetic period in his art, but to date the period at
+which the soul was 'infused' into his poetry, and the brilliant external
+figures became the dwelling-places of germinating poetic thoughts
+creating their own music. Curiously enough, the first poem where there
+is any trace of those musings of the Round Table to which he has
+directed so much of his maturest genius, is also a confession that the
+poet was sick of the magic mirror of fancy and its picture-shadows, and
+was turning away from them to the poetry of human life. Whenever Mr.
+Tennyson's pictorial fancy has had it in any degree in its power to run
+away with the guiding and controlling mind, the richness and the
+workmanship have to some extent overgrown the spiritual principle of his
+poems. It is obvious, for instance, that even in relation to natural
+scenery, what his poetical faculty delights in most are rich, luxuriant
+landscapes, in which either nature or man has accumulated a lavish
+variety of effects. It is in the scenery of the mill, the garden, the
+chase, the down, the rich pastures, the harvest-field, the palace
+pleasure-grounds, the Lord of Burleigh's fair domains, the luxuriant
+sylvan beauty, bearing testimony to the careful hand of man, 'the summer
+crisp with shining woods,' that Mr. Tennyson most delights. If he strays
+to rarer scenes, it is almost in search of richer and more luxuriant
+loveliness, like the tropical splendors of 'Enoch Arden' and the
+enervating skies which cheated the Lotos-Eaters of their longing for
+home."
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says a writer in the _North British Review_, "deserves
+an especial study, not only as a poet, but as a leader and a landmark of
+popular thought and feeling. As a poet, he belongs to the highest
+category of English writers; for poetry is the strongest and most
+vigorous branch of English literature. In this literature his works are
+evidently destined to secure a permanent place; for they express in
+language refined and artistic, but not unfamiliar, a large segment of
+the popular thought of the period over which they range. He has,
+moreover, a clearly marked if not strongly individualized style, which
+has served as a model for imitators, and as a starting-point for poets
+who have sought to improve upon it."
+
+
+=Principal Poems of Tennyson:= Charge of the Light Brigade, written in
+1854; Dora, 1842; The Dying Swan, 1830; Enoch Arden, 1864; Idylls of the
+King, 1859-1873,--to be read in the following order: The Coming of
+Arthur; Gareth and Lynette; Geraint and Enid; Merlin and Vivien;
+Lancelot and Elaine; The Holy Grail; Pelleas and Ettarre; The Last
+Tournament; Guinevere; The Passing of Arthur;--In Memoriam, 1850 (131
+parts); Locksley Hall, 1842; Locksley Hall Sixty Years Afterwards, 1886;
+Maud, 1855 (3 parts); The Princess, 1847 (7 parts); Ode on the Death of
+the Duke of Wellington, 1852.
+
+
+DRAMATIC PIECES: Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876; The Cup, 1881; The
+Falcon, 1882; Becket, 1884; The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
+1892.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Stedman's _Victorian Poets_; Van Dyke's _The Poetry of
+Tennyson_; Taine's _History of English Literature_, vol. IV; Kingsley's
+_Miscellanies_; Elsdale's _Studies in the Idylls_; Buchanan's _Master
+Spirits_; Tainsh's _Studies in Tennyson_; Hutton's _Essays_; Chapman's
+_Companion to In Memoriam_; Walters's _In Tennyson Land_.
+
+
+
+
+William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+ODE.
+
+INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.
+
+     The Child is father{1} of the Man;
+     And I could wish my days to be
+     Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
+     The earth, and every common sight,
+             To me did seem
+           Apparelled{2} in celestial light,
+     The glory and the freshness of a dream.
+     It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
+           Turn wheresoe'er I may,
+             By night or day,
+     The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
+
+
+II.
+
+           The rainbow comes and goes,
+           And lovely is the rose;
+           The moon doth with delight
+       Look round her when the heavens are bare;
+           Waters on a starry night
+           Are beautiful and fair;
+       The sunshine is a glorious birth;
+       But yet I know, where'er I go,
+     That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
+
+
+III.
+
+     Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
+       And while the young lambs bound
+         As to the tabor's{3} sound,
+     To me alone there came a thought of grief:
+     A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
+         And I again am strong.
+     The cataracts{4} blow their trumpets from the steep;
+     No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
+     I hear the echoes{5} through the mountains throng;
+     The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,{6}
+         And all the earth is gay;
+           Land and sea
+       Give themselves up to jollity,{7}
+         And with the heart of May{8}
+       Doth every beast keep holiday.
+         Thou child of joy,
+     Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd-boy!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call
+       Ye to each other make; I see
+     The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
+       My heart is at your festival.
+         My head hath its coronal,{9}
+     The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
+           Oh evil day if I were sullen
+           While Earth herself is adorning
+             This sweet May morning,
+           And the children are culling
+             On every side,
+           In a thousand valleys far and wide,
+           Fresh flowers, while the sun shines warm,
+     And the babe leaps up{10} on his mother's arm:
+           I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
+           --But there's a tree,{11} of many, one,
+     A single field which I have looked upon,
+     Both of them speak of something that is gone:
+             The pansy{12} at my feet
+             Doth the same tale repeat.
+     Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
+     Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
+
+
+V.
+
+     Our birth is but a sleep{13} and a forgetting:
+     The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
+           Hath had elsewhere its setting,
+             And cometh from afar;
+           Not in entire forgetfulness,
+           And not in utter nakedness,
+     But trailing clouds of glory do we come
+           From God, who is our home.
+     Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
+     Shades of the prison-house begin to close
+           Upon the growing boy,
+     But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
+           He sees it in his joy;
+     The youth, who daily farther from the East
+           Must travel, still is nature's priest,
+           And by the vision splendid
+           Is on his way attended;
+     At length the man perceives it die away,
+     And fade into the light of common day.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
+     Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
+     And even with something of a mother's mind,
+           And no unworthy aim,
+           The homely nurse doth all she can
+     To make her foster-child, her inmate man,
+           Forget the glories he hath known,
+     And that imperial palace whence he came.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Behold the child{14} among his new-born blisses,
+     A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
+     See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
+     Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
+     With light upon him from his father's eyes!
+     See at his feet some little plan or chart,
+     Some fragment from his dream of human life,
+     Shaped by himself with newly-learned art--
+           A wedding or a festival,
+           A mourning or a funeral;
+             And this hath now his heart,
+           And unto this he frames his song.
+             Then will he fit his tongue
+     To dialogues of business, love, or strife:
+           But it will not be long
+           Ere this be thrown aside,
+           And with new joy and pride
+     The little actor cons another part,
+     Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'{15}
+     With all the persons, down to palsied age,
+     That Life brings with her in her equipage,
+           As if his whole vocation
+           Were endless imitation.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
+           Thy soul's immensity;
+     Thou, best philosopher, who yet dost keep
+     Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
+     That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
+     Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
+           Mighty prophet! seer blest!{16}
+           On whom those truths do rest,
+     Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
+     In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
+     Thou, over whom thy immortality
+     Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
+     A presence which is not to be put by;
+     Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
+     Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
+     Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
+     The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
+     Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
+     Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
+     And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
+     Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
+
+
+IX.
+
+           O joy, that in our embers
+           Is something that doth live,
+           That nature yet remembers
+           What was so fugitive!
+     The thought of our past years in me doth breed
+     Perpetual benediction: not indeed
+     For that which is most worthy to be blest--
+     Delight and liberty, the simple creed
+     Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
+     With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
+           Not for these I raise
+           The song of thanks and praise;
+         But for those obstinate questionings
+         Of sense and outward things,
+         Fallings from us, vanishings;{17}
+         Blank misgivings{18} of a creature
+     Moving about in worlds not realized,
+     High instincts before which our mortal nature
+     Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
+           But for those first affections,
+           Those shadowy recollections,
+         Which, be they what they may,
+     Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
+     Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
+       Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
+     Our noisy years seem moments in the being
+     Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,
+           To perish never;
+     Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,
+           Nor man nor boy,
+     Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
+     Can utterly abolish or destroy!
+           Hence in a season of calm weather,
+           Though inland far we be,
+     Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
+         Which brought us hither,
+           Can in a moment travel thither,
+     And see the children sport upon the shore,
+     And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
+
+
+X.
+
+     Then sing, ye birds! sing, sing a joyous song!
+           And let the young lambs bound
+           As to the tabor's sound!
+     We in thought will join your throng,
+           Ye that pipe and ye that play,
+           Ye that through your hearts to-day
+           Feel the gladness of the May!
+     What though the radiance which was once so bright
+     Be now forever taken from my sight,
+       Though nothing can bring back the hour
+     Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower?
+           We will grieve not, rather find
+           Strength in what remains behind;
+           In the primal sympathy
+           Which, having been, must ever be;
+           In the soothing thoughts that spring
+           Out of human suffering;
+           In the faith that looks through death,
+     In years that bring the philosophic mind.
+
+
+XI.
+
+     And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
+     Forebode not any severing of our loves!
+     Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
+     I only have relinquished one delight
+     To live beneath your more habitual sway.
+     I love the brooks, which down their channels fret,
+     Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
+     The innocent brightness of a new-born day
+             Is lovely yet:
+     The clouds that gather round the setting sun{19}
+     Do take a sober coloring from an eye
+     That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
+     Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
+     Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
+     Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
+     To me the meanest flower that blows can give
+     Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This was composed," says Wordsworth, "during my residence at Town-End,
+Grasmere (1803-1806). Two years at least passed between the writing of
+the first four stanzas and the remaining part. To the attentive and
+competent reader the whole sufficiently explains itself, but there may
+be no harm in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my
+own mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was
+more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as
+a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere:
+
+                    'A simple child
+     That lightly draws its breath,
+     And feels its life in every limb,
+     What should it know of death?'[44:A]
+
+"But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that _my_
+difficulty came, as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
+within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
+almost persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should
+be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a feeling
+congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external things as
+having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as
+something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
+Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
+recall myself from this abyss of idealism to reality. At that time I was
+afraid of mere processes. In later periods of life I have deplored, as
+we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and
+have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
+_Obstinate questionings_, etc. To that dream-like vividness and splendor
+which invests objects of sight in childhood every one, I believe, if he
+could look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
+here; but having in the poem regarded it as a presumptive evidence of a
+prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
+conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
+meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
+recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
+immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
+advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
+fall of man presents an analogy in its favor. Accordingly, a
+pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
+and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
+ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
+the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
+felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his mind? Having to
+wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on the
+'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as
+having sufficient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for
+my purpose the best use of it I could as a poet."
+
+Lord Houghton says of this poem: "If I am asked what is the greatest
+poem in the English language, I never for a moment hesitate to say,
+Wordsworth's 'Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.'"
+
+Principal Shairp says: "'The Ode on Immortality' marks the highest limit
+which the tide of poetic inspiration has reached in England within this
+century, or indeed since the days of Milton."
+
+The idea of the pre-existence of the soul had already been treated by
+Henry Vaughan in "Silex Scintillans" (1655).
+
+     "Happy those infant days, when I
+      Shined in my angel-infancy!
+      Before I understood this place
+      Appointed for my second race,
+      Or taught my soul to fancy aught
+      But a white, celestial thought;
+      When yet I had not walked above
+      A mile or two from my first Love,
+      And looking back at that short space
+      Could see a glimpse of his bright face."
+
+Shelley, in "A Lament," hints at the same thought:
+
+     "O world! O life! O time!
+      On whose last steps I climb,
+          Trembling at that where I had stood before,
+      When will return the glory of your prime?
+          No more--oh, never more!
+
+     "Out of the day and night
+      A joy has taken flight;
+          Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
+      Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
+          No more--oh, never more!"
+
+
+1. =The child is father, etc.= These lines are from a short poem by
+Wordsworth, entitled "My Heart leaps up":
+
+     "My heart leaps up when I behold
+          A rainbow in the sky.
+      So was it when my life began;
+      So is it now I am a man;
+      So be it when I shall grow old,
+          Or let me die!
+      The child is father of the man;
+      And I could wish my days to be
+      Bound each to each by natural piety."
+
+Compare with Milton's lines in 'Paradise Regained,' Bk. IV:
+
+       "The childhood shows the man
+     As morning shows the day."
+
+2. =apparelled.= From Fr. _pareil_, Lat. _parilis_. Other English words as
+_pair_, _compare_, etc., are similarly derived. To _apparel_ is strictly
+to pair, to suit, to put like to like.
+
+3. =tabor.= From Old Fr. _tabour_, Fr. _tambour_. Compare Eng.
+_tambourine_. Originally from the root _tap_, Gr. _tup_, to strike
+lightly. An ancient musical instrument,--a small one-ended drum having a
+handle projecting from the frame, by which it was held in the left hand,
+while it was beaten with a stick held in the right hand.
+
+4. =the cataracts.= The poet has probably in mind the "ghills" or falls of
+his own lake country. The metaphor which he uses is a bold one.
+
+5. =the echoes.= Compare with a similar line by Shelley:
+
+     "Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains."
+                                                --_Adonais_, 127.
+
+6. =the fields of sleep.= "The yet reposeful, slumbering country
+side."--_Hales._ "The fields that were dark during the hours of
+sleep."--_Knight._
+
+7. =jollity.= Merriment. From Lat. _jovialis_. See Milton's 'L'Allegro,'
+26:
+
+     "Haste thee nymph and bring with thee
+      Jest and youthful jollity."
+
+8. =May.= May, with the poets, is the month of gayety. The older poetry
+especially is full of May raptures. Chaucer says:
+
+     "For May will have no sluggardy a-night:
+      The season pricketh every gentle heart,
+      And maketh him out of his sleep to start."
+
+9. =coronal.= A crown of flowers, a chaplet. As at the Roman banquets. On
+such occasions it was usual for the host to give chaplets to his guests.
+Festoons of flowers were also sometimes hung over their necks and
+breasts. The chaplet, or coronal, was regarded as a cheerful ornament
+and symbol of festivity.
+
+10. =the babe leaps up.= That is for joy. See the poem, "My heart leaps
+up," on page 46.
+
+11. =there's a tree.= Compare this thought with that contained in the
+following lines:
+
+     "Only, one little sight, one plant,
+      . . . whene'er the leaf grows there
+      Its drop comes from my heart, that's all."
+                                    --_Browning's May and Death._
+
+12. =pansy.= The flower of thought. From Fr. _pensée_, thought; _penser_,
+to think. "It probably derived its name, thought or fancy, from its
+fanciful appearance."--_Nares._ Another derivation of the word is from
+_panacea_, meaning _all-heal_, a name given by the Greeks to a plant
+which was popularly supposed to cure diseases and dispel sorrow. The
+notion that the pansy is a cure for grief is shown in its common English
+name, _heart's-ease_.
+
+13. =Our birth is but a sleep.= The idea of pre-existence was a favorite
+one of the ancient philosophers. The doctrine of metempsychosis, a form
+of the same idea, was held by the ancient Egyptians and is still
+maintained by the Buddhists. Tennyson says:
+
+     "As old mythologies relate,
+      Some draught of Lethe might await
+      The slipping through from state to state.
+
+     "And if I lapsed from nobler place,
+      Some legend of a fallen race
+      Alone might hint of my disgrace."--_Two Voices._
+
+14. =Behold the child.= Pope gives a similar picture:
+
+     "Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
+      Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
+      Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
+      A little louder, but as empty quite."--_Essay on Man._
+
+When Wordsworth wrote of
+
+     "A six years' darling of a pigmy size,"
+
+he probably had in mind Hartley Coleridge, who was then a child of that
+age. See his poem "To Hartley Coleridge, Six Years Old."
+
+15. =humorous stage.= See Shakespeare's lines beginning "All the world's
+a stage," "As You like It," Act ii, sc. 7. The word _humorous_ has here
+a special sense, such as is used by Ben Jonson in his "Every Man in his
+Humor."
+
+16. =best philosopher . . . mighty prophet! seer blest!= Stopford Brooke
+says: "These expressions taken separately have scarcely any recognizable
+meaning. By taking them all together, we feel rather than see that
+Wordsworth intended to say that the child, having lately come from a
+perfect existence, in which he saw truth directly, and was at home with
+God, retains, unknown to us, that vision;--and, because he does, is the
+best philosopher, since he sees at once that which we through philosophy
+are endeavoring to reach; is the mighty prophet, because in his actions
+and speech he tells unconsciously the truths he sees, but the sight of
+which we have lost; is more closely haunted by God, more near to the
+immortal life, more purely and brightly free because he half shares in
+the pre-existent life and glory out of which he has come."--_Theology in
+the English Poets._
+
+17. =Fallings from us, vanishings.= "Fits of utter dreaminess and
+abstraction, when nothing material seems solid, but everything mere mist
+and shadow."--_Hales._
+
+18. =Blank misgivings.= Compare Tennyson, "Two Voices":
+
+     "Moreover, something is or seems,
+      That touches me with mystic gleams,
+      Like glimpses of forgotten dreams;
+
+     "Of something felt, like something here;
+      Of something done, I know not where;
+      Such as no language may declare."
+
+19. =The clouds that gather.= Compare these lines with the following from
+Wordsworth's "Excursion":
+
+                     "Ah! why in age
+     Do we revert so fondly to the walks
+     Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
+     The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
+     Of her own native vigor, thence can hear
+     Reverberations and a choral song,
+     Commingling with the incense that ascends
+     Undaunted toward the imperishable heavens,
+     From her own lonely altar?"
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[44:A] The first stanza of We are Seven, said to have been written by
+Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.
+
+
+     We walked along, while bright and red
+     Uprose the morning sun;
+     And Matthew{1} stopped, he looked, and said,
+     'The will of God be done!'
+
+     A village schoolmaster was he,
+     With hair of glittering gray;
+     As blithe a man as you could see
+     On a spring holiday.
+
+     And on that morning, through the grass,
+     And by the steaming rills,
+     We travelled merrily, to pass
+     A day among the hills.
+
+     'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun:
+     Then, from thy breast what thought,
+     Beneath so beautiful a sun,
+     So sad a sigh has brought?'
+
+     A second time did Matthew stop,
+     And fixing still his eye
+     Upon the eastern mountain-top,
+     To me he made reply:
+
+     'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
+     Brings fresh into my mind
+     A day like this which I have left
+     Full thirty years behind.
+
+     And just above yon slope of corn
+     Such colors, and no other,
+     Were in the sky, that April morn,
+     Of this the very brother.
+
+     With rod and line I sued the sport
+     Which that sweet season gave,
+     And, to the church-yard come, stopped short
+     Beside my daughter's grave.
+
+     Nine summers had she scarcely seen,
+     The pride of all the vale:
+     And then she sang;--she would have been
+     A very nightingale.
+
+     Six feet in earth my Emma lay;
+     And yet I loved her more,
+     For so it seemed, than till that day
+     I e'er had loved before.
+
+     And, turning from her grave, I met,
+     Beside the churchyard yew,
+     A blooming girl, whose hair was wet
+     With points of morning dew.
+
+     A basket on her head she bare;
+     Her brow was smooth and white:
+     To see a child so very fair,
+     It was a pure delight!
+
+     No fountain from its rocky cave
+     E'er tripped with foot so free;
+     She seemed as happy as a wave
+     That dances on the sea.
+
+     There came from me a sigh of pain
+     Which I could ill confine;
+     I looked at her, and looked again:
+     And did not wish her mine!'
+
+     Matthew is in his grave, yet now,
+     Methinks, I see him stand,
+     As at that moment, with a bough
+     Of wilding{2} in his hand.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1799, and published the following year.
+
+1. =Matthew.= This old schoolmaster is described elsewhere by Wordsworth
+as being "made up of several, both of his class and men of other
+occupations."
+
+2. =wilding.= A twig from a wild apple tree.
+
+     "Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found."--_Dryden._
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLITARY REAPER.
+
+
+     Behold her, single in the field,
+     Yon solitary highland lass!
+     Reaping and singing by herself;
+     Stop here, or gently pass!
+     Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
+     And sings a melancholy strain;
+     O listen! for the vale profound
+     Is overflowing with the sound.
+
+     No nightingale did ever chaunt
+     More welcome notes to weary bands
+     Of travellers in some shady haunt
+     Among Arabian sands:
+     A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
+     In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird,
+     Breaking the silence of the seas
+     Among the farthest Hebrides.
+
+     Will no one tell me what she sings?--
+     Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+     For old, unhappy, far-off things,
+     And battles long ago:
+     Or is it some more humble lay,
+     Familiar matter of to-day?
+     Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
+     That has been, or may be again?
+
+     Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
+     As if her song could have no ending;
+     I saw her singing at her work,
+     And o'er the sickle bending;--
+     I listened, motionless and still;
+     And, as I mounted up the hill,
+     The music in my heart I bore,
+     Long after it was heard no more.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth, a town in Cumberland,
+England, April 7, 1770. He went to school at Hawkshead, Lancashire,
+whence in his seventeenth year he was sent to St. John's College,
+Cambridge. In January, 1791, he took his degree at the University, but
+without having distinguished himself in any way. The next fifteen or
+sixteen months were spent in France, just then in the first wild hopes
+of the Revolution. "In the aspirations and hopes of the revolutionists
+he was an ardent sharer; he thought that the world's great age was
+beginning anew; and with all his soul he hailed so splendid an era. The
+ultimate degradation of that great movement by wild lawlessness, and
+then by most selfish ambition, alienated his sympathy for it." Towards
+the close of 1792 he returned to England, and passed the subsequent time
+among his friends in London and elsewhere till he settled with his
+sister at Racedown, Dorsetshire, in 1796. In the following year they
+removed to Alfoxden. It was during this period that he made the
+acquaintance of Coleridge. Wordsworth had already published (1793) two
+little volumes of poetry, entitled _Descriptive Sketches_ and _The
+Evening Walk_; but they showed little promise of the triumphs which were
+to crown his later life. In 1798 the first volume of the _Lyrical
+Ballads_ was published at Bristol, which purported to be the joint work
+of himself and Mr. Coleridge, but to which the latter contributed only
+"The Ancient Mariner" and two or three shorter poems. After some months
+spent in Germany, Wordsworth and his sister established themselves at
+Grasmere, in the lake country. In 1800 he published the second volume of
+the _Lyrical Ballads_, and in 1802 he married Mary Hutchinson. From 1799
+to 1814 he was mainly busy with his great philosophical poem, to be
+called "The Recluse," "containing views of Man, Nature, and Society," of
+which "The Prelude" was to be the introduction and "The Excursion" the
+Second and main Part. He designed that his minor pieces should be so
+arranged in connection with this work as to "give them claim to be
+likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses,
+ordinarily included in Gothic churches." This plan, however, was never
+carried out, as of the First and Third Parts only one book was written,
+and it has never been published. From 1814 until his death Wordsworth
+lived serenely and quietly at Rydal Mount, making occasional excursions
+into Scotland and Wales, and a tour upon the continent. In 1843, upon
+the death of Southey, he was appointed Poet-Laureate. His life was a
+long one, of steady work and much happiness. He died April 23, 1850.
+
+The distinguishing feature of Wordsworth's poetry is well set forth in
+his own words:
+
+     "The moving accident is not my trade,
+        To freeze the blood I have no ready arts;
+      'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,
+        To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts."
+                                     --_Hart-Leap Well, Part II._
+
+"Every great poet," he said, "is a teacher; I wish either to be
+considered as a teacher or as nothing."
+
+And he avowed that the purpose of his poetry was "to console the
+afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier; to
+teach the young and the gracious of every age _to see, to think and
+feel_, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous."
+
+     "Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,
+        His daily teachings had been woods and rills,
+      The silence that is in the starry sky,
+        The sleep that is among the lonely hills."
+
+"Wordsworth," says John Campbell Shairp, "was the first who, both in
+theory and practice, shook off the trammels of the so-called poetic
+diction which had tyrannized over English poetry for more than a
+century. This diction of course exactly represented the half-courtly,
+half-classical mode of thinking and feeling. As Wordsworth rebelled
+against this conventionality of spirit, so against the outward
+expression of it. The whole of the stock phrases and used-up metaphors
+he discarded, and returned to living language of natural feeling, as it
+is used by men, instead of the dead form of it which had got stereotyped
+in books. And just as in his subjects he had taken in from the waste
+much virgin soil, so in his diction he appropriated for poetic use a
+large amount of words, idioms, metaphors, till then by the poets
+disallowed. His shorter poems, both the earlier and the later, are, for
+the most part, very models of natural, powerful, and yet sensitive
+English; the language being, like a garment, woven out of, and
+transparent with, the thought."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= We are Seven; The Pet Lamb; To a Highland Girl;
+Laodamia; Matthew; The Fountain; The Wishing Gate; To the Small
+Celandine; "Three Years She Grew"; "She was a Phantom of Delight"; At
+the Grave of Burns.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Shairp's _Studies in Poetry and Philosophy_; Hazlitt's
+_English Poets_; De Quincey's _Miscellaneous Works_; _Literature and
+Life_, by E. P. Whipple; _Wordsworth_ (English Men of Letters), by
+Goldwin Smith; _Yesterdays with Authors_, by James T. Fields; _Among My
+Books_, Second Series, by J. R. Lowell; Matthew Arnold's Introduction to
+the Poems of William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTABEL.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
+     And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock,
+     Tu--whit!----Tu--whoo!
+     And hark, again! the crowing cock,
+     How drowsily it crew.
+
+     Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
+     Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;
+     From her kennel beneath the rock
+     She maketh answer to the clock,
+     Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
+     Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
+     Sixteen short howls, not over loud;
+     Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.
+
+     Is the night chilly and dark?
+     The night is chilly, but not dark.
+     The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
+     It covers but not hides the sky.
+     The moon is behind, and at the full;
+     And yet she looks both small and dull.
+     The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
+     'Tis a month before the month of May,
+     And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
+
+     The lovely lady, Christabel,
+     Whom her father loves so well,
+     What makes her in the wood so late,
+     A furlong from the castle gate?
+     She had dreams all yesternight
+     Of her own betrothed knight;
+     Dreams that made her moan and leap
+     As on her bed she lay in sleep;
+     And she in the midnight wood will pray
+     For the weal of her lover that's far away.
+
+     She stole along, she nothing spoke,
+     The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
+     And naught was green upon the oak
+     But moss and rarest mistletoe:
+     She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
+     And in silence prayeth she.
+
+     The lady sprang up suddenly,
+     The lovely lady, Christabel!
+     It moaned as near as near can be,
+     But what it is she cannot tell.--
+     On the other side it seems to be
+     Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.
+
+     The night is chill; the forest bare;
+     Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
+     There is not wind enough in the air
+     To move away the ringlet curl
+     From the lovely lady's cheek--
+     There is not wind enough to twirl
+     The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
+     That dances as often as dance it can,
+     Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
+     On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
+
+     Hush, beating heart of Christabel!
+     Jesu, Maria, shield her well!
+     She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
+     And stole to the other side of the oak.
+         What sees she there?
+
+     There she sees a damsel bright,
+     Drest in a silken robe of white,
+     That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
+     The neck that made that white robe wan,
+     Her stately neck and arms were bare;
+     Her blue-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,
+     And wildly glitter'd here and there,
+     The gems entangled in her hair.
+     I guess, 'twas frightful there to see
+     A lady so richly clad as she--
+     Beautiful exceedingly!
+
+     "Mary, mother, save me now!"
+     (Said Christabel,) "And who art thou?"
+
+     The lady strange made answer meet,
+     And her voice was faint and sweet:--
+     "Have pity on my sore distress,
+     I scarce can speak for weariness:
+     Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!"
+     Said Christabel, "How camest thou here?"
+     And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,
+     Did thus pursue her answer meet:--
+     "My sire is of a noble line,
+     And my name is Geraldine:
+     Five warriors seized me yestermorn,
+     Me, even me, a maid forlorn:
+     They choked my cries with force and fright,
+     And tied me on a palfrey white.
+     The palfrey was as fleet as wind,
+     And they rode furiously behind.
+     They spurred amain, their steeds were white:
+     And once we cross'd the shade of night.
+     As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,
+     I have no thought what men they be;
+     Nor do I know how long it is
+     (For I have lain entranced I wis)
+     Since one, the tallest of the five,
+     Took me from the palfrey's back,
+     A weary woman, scarce alive.
+     Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke:
+     He placed me underneath this oak;
+     He swore they would return with haste;
+     Whither they went I cannot tell--
+     I thought I heard, some minutes past,
+     Sounds as of a castle bell.
+     Stretch forth thy hand" (thus ended she),
+     "And help a wretched maid to flee."
+
+     Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand
+     And comforted fair Geraldine;
+     "O well, bright dame! may you command
+     The service of Sir Leoline;
+     And gladly our stout chivalry
+     Will he send forth and friends withal
+     To guide and guard you safe and free
+     Home to your noble father's hall."
+
+     She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd
+     That strove to be, and were not, fast.
+     Her gracious stars the lady blest,
+     And thus spake on sweet Christabel:
+     "All our household are at rest,
+     The hall is silent as the cell;
+     Sir Leoline is weak in health,
+     And may not well awaken'd be,
+     But we will move as if in stealth,
+     And I beseech your courtesy,
+     This night, to share your couch with me."
+
+     They cross'd the moat, and Christabel
+     Took the key that fitted well;
+     A little door she open'd straight,
+     All in the middle of the gate;
+     The gate that was iron'd within and without,
+     Where an army in battle array had march'd out.
+     The lady sank, belike through pain,
+     And Christabel with might and main
+     Lifted her up, a weary weight,
+     Over the threshold of the gate:
+     Then the lady rose again,
+     And moved, as she were not in pain.
+
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+     And Christabel devoutly cried
+     To the lady by her side;
+     "Praise we the Virgin all divine
+     Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!"
+     "Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,
+     "I cannot speak for weariness."
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+
+     Outside her kennel the mastiff old
+     Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.
+     The mastiff old did not awake,
+     Yet she an angry moan did make!
+     And what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+     Never till now she utter'd yell
+     Beneath the eye of Christabel.
+     Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:
+     For what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+
+     They pass'd the hall, that echoes still,
+     Pass as lightly as you will!
+     The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
+     Amid their own white ashes lying;
+     But when the lady pass'd, there came
+     A tongue of light, a fit of flame;
+     And Christabel saw the lady's eye,
+     And nothing else saw she thereby,
+     Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,
+     Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.
+     "O softly tread," said Christabel,
+     "My father seldom sleepeth well."
+
+     Sweet Christabel her feet both bare,
+     And, jealous of the listening air,
+     They steal their way from stair to stair,
+     Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
+     And now they pass the Baron's room,
+     And still as death, with stifled breath!
+     And now have reach'd her chamber door;
+     And now doth Geraldine press down
+     The rushes of the chamber floor.
+
+     The moon shines dim in the open air,
+     And not a moonbeam enters here.
+     But they without its light can see
+     The chamber carved so curiously,
+     Carved with figures strange and sweet,
+     All made out of the carver's brain,
+     For a lady's chamber meet:
+     The lamp with twofold silver chain
+     Is fasten'd to an angel's feet.
+
+     The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
+     But Christabel the lamp will trim.
+     She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,
+     And left it swinging to and fro,
+     While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
+     Sank down upon the floor below.
+
+     "O weary lady, Geraldine,
+     I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
+     It is a wine of virtuous powers;
+     My mother made it of wild flowers."
+
+     "And will your mother pity me,
+     Who am a maiden most forlorn?"
+     Christabel answered--"Woe is me!
+     She died the hour that I was born.
+     I have heard the gray-hair'd friar tell,
+     How on her death-bed she did say,
+     That she should hear the castle-bell
+     Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.
+     O mother dear! that thou wert here!"
+     "I would," said Geraldine, "she were!"
+
+     But soon with altered voice, said she--
+     "Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!
+     I have power to bid thee flee."
+     Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?
+     Why stares she with unsettled eye?
+     Can she the bodiless dead espy?
+     And why with hollow voice cries she,
+     "Off, woman, off! this hour is mine--
+     Though thou her guardian spirit be,
+     Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."
+
+     Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
+     And raised to heaven her eyes so blue--
+     "Alas!" said she, "this ghastly ride--
+     Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!"
+     The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
+     And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"
+
+     Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
+     Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
+     And from the floor whereon she sank,
+     The lofty lady stood upright:
+     She was most beautiful to see,
+     Like a lady of a far countrée.
+
+     And thus the lofty lady spake--
+     "All they who live in the upper sky,
+     Do love you, holy Christabel!
+     And you love them, and for their sake
+     And for the good which me befell,
+     Even I in my degree will try,
+     Fair maiden, to requite you well.
+     But now unrobe yourself; for I
+     Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."
+
+     Quoth Christabel, "So let it be!"
+     And as the lady bade, did she.
+     Her gentle limbs did she undress,
+     And lay down in her loveliness.
+
+     But through her brain of weal and woe
+     So many thoughts move to and fro,
+     That vain it were her lids to close;
+     So half-way from the bed she rose,
+     And on her elbow did recline
+     To look at the lady Geraldine.
+
+     Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,
+     And slowly roll'd her eyes around;
+     Then drawing in her breath aloud
+     Like one that shudder'd, she unbound
+     The cincture from beneath her breast;
+     Her silken robe and inner vest,
+     Dropt to her feet, and full in view,
+     Behold! her bosom and half her side--
+     A sight to dream of, not to tell!
+     O shield her! shield sweet Christabel.
+
+     Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;
+     Ah! what a stricken look was hers!
+     Deep from within seems half-way
+     To lift some weight with sick assay,
+     And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
+     Then suddenly as one defied
+     Collects herself in scorn and pride,
+     And lay down by the maiden's side!--
+     And in her arms the maid she took,
+         Ah, well-a-day!
+     And with low voice and doleful look
+         These words did say:
+     "In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell
+     Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!
+     Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow
+     This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;
+             But vainly thou warrest,
+               For this is alone in
+             Thy power to declare,
+               That in the dim forest
+             Thou heardest a low moaning,
+     And foundest a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
+     And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,
+     To shield her and shelter her from the damp air."
+
+
+NOTES
+
+The first part of the unfinished poem, "Christabel," was written in
+1797, the second part which, however, left the story apparently as
+incomplete as before, in 1808. The two parts were first published in
+1816. The poem is a picture of white innocence, purity, and truth,
+pursued and persecuted by the powers of evil. Its incompleteness seems
+to enhance its interest. "Completion could scarcely have failed to
+lessen its reality, for the reader could not have endured, neither could
+the poet's own theory have endured, the sacrifice of Christabel, the
+triumph of evil over good; and had she triumphed, there is a vulgar
+well-being in victory which has nothing to do with such a strain."
+
+"Such is the unfinished and unfinishable tale of Christabel--a poem
+which, despite its broken notes and over-brevity, has raised its author
+to the highest rank of poets, and which in itself is at once one of
+the sweetest, loftiest, most spiritual utterances that has ever
+been framed in English words. We know of no existing poem in any
+language to which we can compare it. It stands by itself exquisite,
+celestial, ethereal,--a song of the spheres,--yet full of such
+pathos and tenderness and sorrowful beauty as only humanity can
+give."--_Blackwood's Magazine_, 1871.
+
+It is worthy of note that "Christabel" was the immediate inspiration of
+Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel." "It is to Mr. Coleridge," says Sir
+Walter, "that I am bound to make the acknowledgment due from the pupil
+to his master." "But certainly," says Hales, "Scott himself never
+succeeded in surrounding any one of his works with so fine an atmosphere
+of glamour and romance."
+
+The language and metrical arrangement of this poem are not only peculiar
+but are in full accord with the weird and fantastic conception of the
+piece as a whole. The versification is based upon a principle not
+commonly practised--that of counting the number of accentuated words in
+a line instead of the number of syllables. Though the latter varies from
+seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents never exceed four. The
+result is an irregular, but strangely beautiful harmony of a kind that
+can hardly be attained through the ordinary methods of versification.
+
+This poem is to be studied for its exquisite beauty, for the true poetic
+qualities which it possesses and which distinguish it from mere verse.
+Hence, no explanatory notes are given with reference to any particular
+passage, nor is it desirable that it should be analyzed with a view to
+grammatical or philological study. It should be read and reread until
+the student is thoroughly in accord with the poetic spirit which
+breathes in and vivifies the entire production. "It was indolence, no
+doubt, that left the tale half told--indolence and misery--and a poetic
+instinct higher than all the better impulses of industry and virtuous
+gain. The subject by its very nature was incomplete; it had to be left a
+lovely, weird suggestion--a vision for every eye that could see."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery Saint Mary, October 21, 1772.
+He was educated at Christ's Hospital and at Jesus College, Cambridge. At
+the age of twenty-two he left the University without having taken a
+degree. He was an intimate friend of Charles Lamb and Southey, and with
+the latter formed a wild scheme for the founding of a "Pantisocratic
+State" in America, which, however, was soon abandoned. His first book of
+poetry was published in 1794. In 1796 he and Charles Lamb published a
+volume of poems together. He soon afterwards became acquainted with
+Wordsworth, and in 1798 the two brought out their famous volume of
+_Lyrical Ballads_, containing some of Wordsworth's best pieces and
+Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." "Christabel," after lying in manuscript
+for several years, was published in 1816, three editions being issued
+within twelve months. Coleridge's chief poems were published in 1817 in
+a collection entitled _Sibylline Leaves_, so called, he says, "in
+allusion to the fragmentary and wildly scattered state in which they had
+long been suffered to remain." At about the same time he was received
+into the house of Mr. Gillman, a surgeon residing at Highgate, in order
+to be cured if possible of his excessive use of opium. Here he produced
+his more important prose works, _Aids to Reflection_, and _On the
+Constitution of Church and State_; and here he died, July 25, 1834.
+
+Coleridge was forever planning and designing,--beginning a work and
+leaving its completion until to-morrow--which never came. He devoted his
+attention only sparingly to poetry--and that chiefly during his youth.
+Later in life he was occupied with political, social, and religious
+questions. "He was a living Hamlet, full of the most splendid thoughts
+and the noblest purposes, but a most incompetent doer." "His mind,"
+wrote Southey, "is a perpetual St. Vitus's dance--eternal activity
+without action."
+
+"Of Coleridge's best verses," says Swinburne, "I venture to affirm that
+the world has nothing like them, and can never have; that they are of
+the highest kind, and of their own. They are jewels of the diamond's
+price, flowers of the rose's rank, but unlike any rose or diamond
+known."
+
+"His best work is but little," says Stopford Brooke, "but of its kind it
+is perfect and unique. . . . All that he did excellently might be bound
+up in twenty pages, but it should be bound in pure gold."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Hymn before
+Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni; Ode to France; Genevieve.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Swinburne's _Studies and Essays_; Shairp's _Studies in
+Poetry_; Carlyle's _Reminiscences_; Coleridge's _Biographia Literaria_;
+De Quincey's _Essays_; _Coleridge_ (English Men of Letters), by H. D.
+Traill; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Hunt's _Imagination and Fancy_;
+Chorley's _Authors of England_; Walter Pater's _Apprecia_.
+
+
+
+
+Percy Bysshe Shelley.
+
+
+
+
+TO A SKYLARK
+
+
+               Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
+                 Bird thou never wert,
+               That from heaven, or near it,
+                 Pourest thy full heart
+     In profuse{1} strains of unpremeditated art.
+
+               Higher still, and higher,
+                 From the earth thou springest
+               Like a cloud of fire;
+                 The deep blue thou wingest,{2}
+     And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
+
+               In the golden lightning
+                 Of the sunken sun,{3}
+               O'er which clouds are brightening,
+                 Thou dost float and run,
+     Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
+
+               The pale purple even
+                 Melts around thy flight;
+               Like a star of heaven,
+                 In the broad daylight
+     Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
+
+               Keen as are the arrows
+                 Of that silver sphere,
+               Whose intense lamp narrows
+                 In the white dawn clear,
+     Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
+
+               All the earth and air
+                 With thy voice is loud,
+               As, when night is bare,
+                 From one lonely cloud
+     The moon rains{4} out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
+
+               What thou art we know not;--
+                 What is most like thee?
+               From rainbow clouds there flow not
+                 Drops so bright to see,
+     As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
+
+               Like a poet hidden
+                 In the light of thought,
+               Singing hymns unbidden,
+                 Till the world is wrought{5}
+     To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
+
+               Like a high-born maiden
+                 In a palace tower,
+               Soothing her love-laden
+                 Soul in secret hour
+     With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:
+
+               Like a glow-worm golden
+                 In a dell of dew,
+               Scattering unbeholden
+                 Its aërial hue
+     Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:
+
+               Like a rose embowered
+                 In its own green leaves,
+               By warm winds deflowered,
+                 Till the scent it gives
+     Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.
+
+               Sound of vernal showers
+                 On the twinkling grass,
+               Rain-awakened flowers,
+                 All that ever was
+     Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
+
+               Teach us, sprite{6} or bird,
+                 What sweet thoughts are thine:
+               I have never heard
+                 Praise of love or wine
+     That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
+
+               Chorus hymeneal,{7}
+                 Or triumphal chaunt,
+               Matched with thine would be all
+                 But an empty vaunt--
+     A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
+
+               What objects are the fountains
+                 Of thy happy strain?
+               What fields, or waves, or mountains?
+                 What shapes of sky or plain?
+     What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
+
+               With thy clear keen joyance
+                 Langour cannot be:
+               Shadow of annoyance
+                 Never came near thee:
+     Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
+
+               Waking or asleep;
+                 Thou of death must deem
+               Things more true and deep
+                 Than we mortals dream--
+     Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
+
+               We look before and after,
+                 And pine for what is not:{8}
+               Our sincerest laughter
+                 With some pain is fraught:
+     Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
+
+               Yet if we could scorn
+                 Hate, and pride, and fear;
+               If we were things born
+                 Not to shed a tear,
+     I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
+
+               Better than all measures
+                 Of delight and sound,
+               Better than all treasures
+                 That in books are found,
+     Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
+
+               Teach me half the gladness
+                 That thy brain must know,
+               Such harmonious madness
+                 From my lips would flow,
+     The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is perhaps the most perfect lyric of its kind in the English
+language. Every verse is worthy of careful study, and it should be read
+and reread until its exquisite melody is felt and the subtle thoughts
+which it embodies fully understood. Yet there is little in the poem
+which requires annotation--the lark's song itself admits of no
+explanation.
+
+"For sweetness the 'Ode to a Skylark' is inferior only to
+Coleridge, in rapturous passion to no man. It is like the bird
+it sings,--enthusiastic, enchanting, profuse, continuous, and
+alone,--small, but filling the heavens."--_Leigh Hunt._
+
+"Has any one, since Shakespeare and Spenser, lighted on such tender and
+such grand ecstasies?"--_Taine._
+
+The skylark is very generally distributed over the northern portions of
+the Old World, but is not found in America. Its song in the morning may
+often be heard when the bird is so high as to be entirely out of sight,
+and although not finely modulated is remarkably cheerful and prolonged.
+A person who is accustomed to the song can tell by its variations
+whether it be ascending, stationary, or descending.
+
+
+1. =profuse.= Accent here on the first syllable. From Lat. _profundo_, to
+pour forth.
+
+2. Explain the figures of rhetoric employed in this line. The meaning of
+=blue=; of =wingest=.
+
+3. =sunken sun.= The sun is not yet above the horizon, but the bird has
+risen so high that it is visible to him, and he "floats and runs" in its
+golden light.
+
+4. What is the meaning of =rains=? of =rain= in the next stanza?
+
+5. =wrought.= Influenced. A.-S. _worhte_, _wyrcan_, to work.
+
+6. =sprite.= Spirit. In the first stanza he calls the lark a spirit and
+says it never was a bird; here he calls it "bird or sprite."
+
+7. =Chorus hymeneal.= See note on "Prothalamion," page 241.
+
+8. Compare this thought with the ideas contained in Wordsworth's "Ode on
+the Intimations of Immortality."
+
+=pine.= From A.-S. _pinan_, to pain. Our word _pain_ is derived from the
+same root.
+
+
+
+
+HYMN OF PAN.
+
+
+           From the forests and highlands
+             We come, we come;
+           From the river-girt islands,
+             Where loud waves are dumb
+     Listening to my sweet pipings.
+           The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
+             The bees on the bells of thyme,
+           The birds on the myrtle-bushes,
+             The cicale above in the lime,
+           And the lizards below in the grass,
+     Were as silent as ever old Tmolus{1} was,
+         Listening to my sweet pipings.
+
+         Liquid Peneus{2} was flowing,
+           And all dark Tempe lay
+         In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
+           The light of the dying day,
+         Speeded by my sweet pipings.
+           The Sileni{3} and Sylvans and Fauns,
+             And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
+           To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
+             And the brink of the dewy caves,
+     And all that did then attend and follow,
+     Were silent with love,--as you now, Apollo,{4}
+         With envy of my sweet pipings.
+
+         I sang of the dancing stars,
+           I sang of the dædal{5} earth,
+         And of heaven, and the Giant wars,{6}
+           And love, and death, and birth,
+         And then I changed my pipings,--
+         Singing how down the vale of Mænalus
+           I pursued a maiden,{7} and clasped a reed:
+         Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;
+           It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
+         All wept--as I think both ye now would,
+         If envy or age had not frozen your blood--
+             At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pan, as described in the Homeric hymns, is "lord of all the hills and
+dales": sometimes he ranges along the tops of the mountains; sometimes
+pursues the game in the valleys, roams through the woods, or floats
+along the streams; or drives his sheep into a cave, and there plays on
+his reeds music not to be excelled by that of the sweetest singing
+birds; and
+
+        "With him the clear-singing mountain-nymphs
+      Move quick their feet, by the dark-watered spring
+      In the soft mead, where crocus, hyacinths,
+      Fragrant and blooming, mingle with the grass
+      Confused, and sing, while echo peals around
+      The mountain's top."
+
+Keats, in "Endymion," thus apostrophizes Pan:
+
+     "O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,
+      While ever and anon to his shorn peers
+      A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
+      When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn
+      Anger our huntsmen: Breather round our farms,
+      To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:
+      Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,
+      That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,
+      And wither drearily on barren moors:
+      Dread opener of the mysterious doors
+      Leading to universal knowledge--see,
+      Great son of Dryope,
+      The many that are come to pay their vows
+      With leaves about their brows!"
+
+
+1. =Tmolus.= It was Tmolus who acted as umpire in the musical contest
+between Pan and Apollo. This contest is directly referred to throughout
+this poem.
+
+2. =Peneus.= The chief river of Thessaly. It flows through the Vale of
+Tempe, and between the mountains Ossa and Pelion, emptying finally into
+the Ægean Sea. (See map of ancient Greece.)
+
+3. =Sileni.= A name applied to the older satyrs. They were fond of wine
+and of every kind of sensual pleasure, and hence represented the
+luxuriant powers of nature, and were connected with the worship of
+Bacchus.
+
+=Sylvans.= Deities of the fields and forests.
+
+=Fauns.= Gods of the shepherds, flocks, and fields. A faun was usually
+represented as half man and half goat.
+
+4. =Apollo.= One of the chief divinities of the Greeks; the god of music
+and song, of prophecy, of the flocks and herds, of the founding of
+towns, and of the sun. He was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born on
+the island of Delos. His favorite oracle was at Delphi.
+
+5. =dædal.= Labyrinthine, wonderful. From Dædalus, a famous Athenian
+architect, who designed the labyrinth at Crete in which the Minotaur was
+kept.
+
+6. =Giant wars.= The wars of the Titans,--the contest in which Zeus
+overcame and deposed his father, Chronos, and made himself supreme ruler
+of the universe. The Titans, who were opposed to him, were overcome, and
+hurled into the lowest depths of Tartarus.
+
+=Mænalus.= A mountain in Arcadia, celebrated as the favorite haunt of Pan.
+
+7. =maiden.= Syrinx, a nymph of Arcadia, devoted to the service of
+Artemis. "As she was returning one day from the chase, Pan saw and loved
+her; but when he would address her, she fled. The god pursued. She
+reached the river Ladon, and, unable to cross it, implored the aid of
+her sister nymphs; and when Pan thought to grasp the object of his
+pursuit, he found his arms filled with reeds. At that moment the wind
+began to agitate the reeds and produced a low musical sound. The god
+took the hint, cut seven of the twigs, and formed from them his
+_syrinx_, or pastoral pipe." See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_.
+
+
+
+
+FROM "EPIPSYCHIDION."
+
+
+                                     Emily,
+     A ship is floating in the harbor now;
+     A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;
+     There is a path on the sea's azure floor,--
+     No keel has ever ploughed that path before;
+     The halcyons{1} brood around the foamless isles;
+     The treacherous ocean has forsworn its wiles;
+     The merry mariners are bold and free:
+     Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?
+     Our bark is as an albatross whose nest
+     Is a far Eden of the purple east;
+     And we between her wings will sit, while Night
+     And Day and Storm and Calm pursue their flight,
+     Our ministers, along the boundless sea,
+     Treading each other's heels, unheededly.
+     It is an isle under Ionian{2} skies,
+     Beautiful as a wreck of paradise;
+     And, for{3} the harbors are not safe and good,
+     This land would have remained a solitude
+     But for some pastoral people native there,
+     Who from the elysian, clear, and golden air
+     Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,{4}--
+     Simple and spirited, innocent and bold.
+     The blue Ægean girds this chosen home,
+     With ever-changing sound and light and foam
+     Kissing the sifted sands and caverns hoar;
+     And all the winds wandering along the shore
+     Undulate with the undulating tide.
+     There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;
+     And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond,
+     As clear as elemental diamond,
+     Or serene morning air. And far beyond,
+     The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer
+     (Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)
+     Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls
+     Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls
+     Illumining, with sound that never fails,
+     Accompany the noonday nightingales.
+     And all the place is peopled with sweet airs.{5}
+     The light clear element which the isle wears
+     Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,
+     Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,
+     And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;
+     And from the moss violets and jonquils peep,
+     And dart their arrowy odor through the brain,
+     Till you might faint with that delicious pain.
+     And every motion, odor, beam, and tone,
+     With that deep music is in unison:
+     Which is a soul within the soul,--they seem
+     Like echoes of an antenatal dream.{6}
+     It is an isle 'twixt heaven, air, earth, and sea,
+     Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity;
+     Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer,{7}
+     Washed by the soft blue oceans of young air.{8}
+     It is a favored place. Famine or blight,
+     Pestilence, war, and earthquake, never light
+     Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they
+     Sail onward far upon their fatal way.
+     The wingèd storms, chaunting their thunder-psalm
+     To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm
+     Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,
+     From which its fields and woods ever renew
+     Their green and golden immortality.
+     And from the sea there rise, and from the sky
+     There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,
+     Veil after veil, each hiding some delight:
+     Which sun or moon or zephyr draw aside,
+     Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride
+     Glowing at once with love and loveliness,
+     Blushes and trembles at its own excess.
+     Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less
+     Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,
+     An atom of the Eternal, whose own smile
+     Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen
+     O'er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green,
+     Filling their bare and void interstices.
+     This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed
+     Thee to be lady of the solitude.
+     And I have fitted up some chambers there
+     Looking towards the golden eastern air,
+     And level with the living winds which flow
+     Like waves above the living waves below.
+     I have sent books and music there, and all
+     Those instruments with which high spirits call
+     The future from its cradle, and the past
+     Out of its grave, and make the present last
+     In thoughts and joys which sleep but cannot die,
+     Folded within their own eternity.
+     Our simple life wants little, and true taste
+     Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste
+     The scene it would adorn; and therefore still
+     Nature with all her children haunts the hill.
+     The ringdove in the embowering ivy yet
+     Keeps up her love-lament; and the owls flit
+     Round the evening tower; and the young stars glance
+     Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;
+     The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight
+     Before our gate; and the slow silent night
+     Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep.
+     Be this our home in life; and, when years heap
+     Their withered hours like leaves on our decay,
+     Let us become the overhanging day,
+     The living soul, of this elysian isle--
+     Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile
+     We two will rise and sit and walk together
+     Under the roof of blue Ionian weather;
+     And wander in the meadows; or ascend
+     The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend
+     With lightest winds to touch their paramour;{9}
+     Or linger where the pebble-paven shore
+     Under the quick faint kisses of the sea
+     Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy;--
+     Possessing and possessed by all that is
+     Within that calm circumference of bliss,
+     And by each other, till to love and live
+     Be one. . . .
+     We shall become the same, we shall be one
+     Spirit within two frames, oh wherefore two?
+     One passion in twin hearts, which grows and grew
+     Till, like two meteors of expanding flame,
+     Those spheres instinct with it become the same,
+     Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still
+     Burning, yet ever inconsumable;
+     In one another's substance finding food,
+     Light flames too pure and light and unimbued
+     To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,
+     Which point to heaven and cannot pass away:
+     One hope within two wills, one will beneath
+     Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,
+     One heaven, one hell, one immortality,
+     And one annihilation!
+
+                           Woe is me!
+     The wingèd words on which my soul would pierce
+     Into the height of Love's rare universe
+     Are chains of lead around its flight of fire--
+     I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"A clever but disreputable professor at Pisa one day related to Shelley
+the sad story of a beautiful and noble lady, the Contessina Emilia
+Viviani, who had been confined by her father in a dismal convent of the
+suburbs, to await her marriage with a distasteful husband." Shelley,
+fired as ever by a tale of tyranny, was eager to visit the fair captive.
+The professor accompanied him and Medwin to the convent parlor, where
+they found her more lovely than even the most glowing descriptions had
+led them to expect. Nor was she only beautiful. Shelley soon discovered
+that she had "cultivated her mind beyond what I have ever met with in
+Italian women"; and a rhapsody composed by her upon the subject of
+Uranian Love--"Il Vero Amore"--justifies the belief that she possessed
+an intellect of more than ordinary elevation. He took Mrs. Shelley to
+see her; and both did all they could to make her convent prison less
+irksome by frequent visits, by letters, by presents of flowers and
+books. It was not long before Shelley's sympathy for this unfortunate
+lady took the form of love, which, however spiritual and Platonic, was
+not the less passionate. The result was the composition of
+"Epipsychidion," the most unintelligible of all his poems to those who
+have not assimilated the spirit of Plato's _Symposium_ and Dante's _Vita
+Nuova_.--_J. A. Symonds._
+
+W. M. Rossetti characterizes this poem as "a pure outpouring of poetry;
+a brimming and bubbling fountain of freshness and music, magical with
+its own spray rainbows."
+
+A year after its composition, Shelley wrote: "The 'Epipsychidion' I
+cannot look at. If you are curious, however, to hear what I am and have
+been, it will tell you something thereof. It is an idealized history of
+my life and feelings."
+
+
+=Epipsychidion.= From Gr. _epi_, upon, and _psyche_, the soul. This poem
+is addressed "to the noble and unfortunate Lady Emilia Viviani, now
+imprisoned in the Convent of St. Anne, Pisa," and was written in 1821.
+
+1. =halcyons.= Kingfishers. Halcyone was the daughter of Æolus and wife of
+Ceyx. When her husband died she was changed into a bird,--the
+kingfisher,--and, floating over the sea, she still calls for the lost
+Ceyx in tones full of plaining and tears. And "whensoever she makes her
+nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
+weather--days distinguishable among all others for their serenity."
+
+2. =Ionian.= Greek. See the expression "Under the roof of blue Ionian
+weather," below. Explain its meaning.
+
+3. =for.= Since, because.
+
+=elysian.= Heavenly. Pertaining to Elysium, the islands of the blest, the
+Elysian fields.
+
+4. =age of gold.= Compare Milton, "Hymn on the Nativity" (see note 36,
+page 192. See, also, poem by John Lydgate, page 275).
+
+5. =peopled with sweet airs.= Filled with sweet music.
+
+6. =antenatal dream.= See Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of
+Immortality" (also, note 13, page 47).
+
+     "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting."
+
+7. =Lucifer.= Venus when seen in the morning, rising before the sun is
+called Lucifer, the light-bearer. From Lat. _lux_, light, and _fero_, to
+bear (see note 18, page 189). The same star when seen in the evening,
+following the sun, is called Hesperus.
+
+8. =blue oceans of young air.= Explain.
+
+9. =paramour.= See Milton's "Ode on the Nativity," stanza i.
+
+     "It was no reason then for her
+      To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour."
+
+Milton makes the sun the paramour of the earth; Shelley, the earth the
+paramour of the sky.
+
+
+
+
+A LAMENT.
+
+
+     Swifter far than summer's flight,
+     Swifter far than youth's delight,
+     Swifter far than happy night,
+           Art thou come and gone:
+     As the earth when leaves are dead,
+     As the night when sleep is sped,
+     As the heart when joy is fled,
+           I am left alone, alone.
+
+     The swallow Summer comes again,
+     The owlet Night resumes her reign,
+     But the wild swan Youth is fain
+           To fly with thee, false as thou.
+     My heart each day desires the morrow,
+     Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,
+     Vainly would my winter borrow
+           Sunny leaves from any bough.
+
+     Lilies for a bridal bed,
+     Roses for a matron's head,
+     Violets for a maiden dead,
+           Pansies let my flowers be:
+     On the living grave I bear,
+     Scatter them without a tear,
+     Let no friend, however dear,
+           Waste one hope, one fear, for me.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex,
+August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eton and at Oxford. While a student
+at the latter place, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled _The Necessity of
+Atheism_, which caused his expulsion from college. This occurred in
+1811, and in the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, from whom,
+three years later, he separated. In 1816 he married Mary Godwin. In 1818
+he left England for Italy, where he remained until his death by drowning
+in the gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. His first considerable poem, "Queen
+Mab," was published in 1813; "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," in
+1816; "The Revolt of Islam," in 1818; and "Epipsychidion" and "Adonais"
+in 1821. His two dramas, the "Cenci" and "Prometheus Unbound," were
+issued, the former in 1819, the latter in 1821.
+
+"Shelley's early rupture with the English world," says Hales, "lost him
+all the advantages which a fuller experience of it and a longer
+intercourse with it might have given. That world was no less estranged
+from him than he from it. It misunderstood and misinterpreted him
+throughout his career. It covered him with its opprobrium. Assuredly, he
+was not the man that world painted. It by no means follows that because
+Shelley did not repeat the ordinary creeds, and even mocked at them,
+that he believed nothing. Shelley was never in his soul an atheist: it
+was simply impossible with his nature that he should be; what he did
+deny and defy was a deity whose worship seemed, as he saw the world,
+consistent with the reign of selfishness and bigotry."
+
+Lord Macaulay says: "We doubt whether any modern poet has possessed in
+an equal degree some of the highest qualities of the great ancient
+masters. The words _bard_ and _inspiration_, which seem so cold and
+affected when applied to other modern writers, have a perfect propriety
+when applied to him. He was not an author, but a bard. His poetry seems
+not to have been an art, but an inspiration. Had he lived to the full
+age of man, he might not improbably, have given to the world some great
+work of the very highest rank in design and execution."
+
+Leigh Hunt says: "Assuredly, had he lived, he would have been the
+greatest dramatic writer since the days of Elizabeth. In general, if
+Coleridge is the sweetest of our poets, Shelley is at once the most
+ethereal and most gorgeous--the one who has clothed his thoughts in
+draperies of the most evanescent and most magnificent words and imagery.
+His poetry is as full of mountains, seas, and skies, of light, and
+darkness, and the seasons, and all the elements of our being, as if
+Nature herself had written it, with the Creation and its hopes newly
+cast around her, not, it must be confessed, without too indiscriminate a
+mixture of great and small, and a want of sufficient shade--a certain
+chaotic brilliancy, 'dark with excess of light.'"
+
+Another English poet says: "Shelley outsang all poets on record but some
+two or three throughout all time; his depths and heights of inner and
+outer music are as divine as nature's, and not sooner exhaustible. He
+was alone the perfect singing-god; his thoughts, words, deeds, all sang
+together."
+
+"The poet who creates a new ideal, and fills men's hearts with the flame
+of a divine desire, is a practical force in the stream of human
+development--and this Shelley has done. So much of his poetry is full of
+the tender melancholy of the moonlight he loved, that the world is still
+half blind to his highest bardic character, as the poet of a spiritual
+dawn, the eager spirit who flies forward--
+
+     "Calling the lapsèd soul,
+     And weeping in the morning dew."
+
+Even his moonlight seems to reflect the beams of some unrisen sun; and
+his sunlight has all the ethereal exhilaration of that of the first
+hours of a glorious day."--_John Todhunter._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Adonais; The Sensitive Plant; The Cloud; Mount
+Blanc; To Wordsworth; The Euganean Hills; Liberty; Alastor; Prometheus
+Unbound.
+
+
+REFERENCES: De Quincey's _Essays_; Jeaffreson's _The Real Shelley_;
+_Shelley_ (English Men of Letters), by J. A. Symonds; Leigh Hunt's
+_Imagination and Fancy_; Rossetti's _Memoir of Shelley_; Dowden's _Life
+of P. B. Shelley_; Moore's _Life of Lord Byron_; Middleton's _Shelley
+and his Writings_; Medwin's _Life of Shelley_; Trelawney's
+_Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron_; Todhunter's
+_Shelley: A Study_.
+
+
+
+
+John Keats.
+
+
+
+
+ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE.
+
+
+I
+
+     My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
+       My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
+     Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
+       One minute past, and Lethe-wards{1} had sunk:
+     'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
+       But being too happy in thy happiness,--
+         That thou, light-winged Dryad{2} of the trees,
+               In some melodious plot
+       Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
+         Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
+
+
+II.
+
+     O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
+       Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
+     Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
+       Dance, and Provençal song,{3} and sun-burnt mirth!
+     O for a beaker full of the warm South,
+       Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,{4}
+         With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
+               And purple-stained mouth;
+       That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
+         And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
+
+
+III.
+
+     Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
+       What thou among the leaves hast never known,
+     The weariness, the fever, and the fret
+       Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
+     Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
+       Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
+         Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
+               And leaden-eyed despairs;
+       Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
+         Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
+       Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,{5}
+     But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
+       Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
+     Already with thee! tender is the night,
+       And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
+         Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
+               But here there is no light,
+     Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
+       Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
+
+
+V.
+
+     I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
+       Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
+     But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
+       Wherewith the seasonable month endows
+     The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
+       White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;{6}
+       Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
+               And mid-May's eldest child,
+     The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
+       The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Darkling{7} I listen; and for many a time
+       I have been half in love with easeful Death,
+     Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
+       To take into the air my quiet breath;
+     Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
+       To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
+         While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
+               In such an ecstasy!
+     Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
+       To thy high requiem{8} become a sod.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
+       No hungry generations tread thee down;
+     The voice I hear this passing night was heard
+       In ancient days by emperor and clown:
+     Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
+       Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
+         She stood in tears amid the alien corn{9};
+               The same that oft-times hath
+     Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
+       Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
+       To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
+     Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
+       As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
+     Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
+       Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
+         Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
+               In the next valley-glades:
+       Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
+         Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This poem," says Leigh Hunt, "was written in a house at the foot of
+Highgate Hill, on the border of the fields looking towards Hampstead.
+The poet had then his mortal illness upon him, and knew it; never was
+the voice of death sweeter."
+
+
+1. =Lethe-wards.= That is, towards Lethe. Lethe was one of the rivers of
+Hell. Its name means "forgetfulness." Milton describes it thus:
+
+                      "A slow and silent stream,
+      Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
+      Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks
+      Forthwith his former state and being forgets--
+      Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."
+
+--_Paradise Lost_, ii, 583.
+
+2. =Dryad.= A wood-nymph. From Gr. _drus_, an oak tree. The life of the
+Dryad was supposed to be bound up with that of her tree.
+
+"The quickening power of the soul, like Martha, is 'busy about many
+things,' or, like a Dryad, living in a tree."--_Sir John Davis._
+
+3. =Provençal song.= Song of the troubadours, a school of lyric poets that
+flourished in Provence, in the south of France, from the eleventh to the
+thirteenth century. A love song.
+
+4. =Hippocrene.= The "Fountain of the Horse" (_Fons Caballinus_). A
+fountain on Mount Helicon, Boeotia, sacred to the Muses. It was said
+to have been produced by the horse Pegasus striking the ground with his
+feet. Its waters were supposed to be a source of poetical inspiration.
+
+Longfellow, in "The Goblet of Life," says:
+
+     "No purple flowers--no garlands green,
+      Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,
+      Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,
+      Like gleams of sunshine, flash between
+            Thick leaves of mistletoe."
+
+5. =Bacchus and his pards.= Bacchus was frequently represented as riding
+on the back of a leopard, a tiger, or a lion, or in a chariot drawn by
+panthers.
+
+=pards.= Spotted beasts.
+
+See Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," third stanza, page 160.
+
+6. Compare with Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act ii, sc.
+i:
+
+     "I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
+      Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
+      Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
+      With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."
+
+7. =darkling.= In the dark. The word is very rarely used.
+
+8. =requiem.= A dirge, or funeral song. "So called from the first word in
+the Catholic mass for the dead, _Requiem æternum dona iis Domine_ (Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord)."--_Brand._
+
+=become a sod.= Compare with Ecclesiastes, xii, 7: "Then shall the dust
+return to the earth as it was."
+
+9. =alien corn.= See Ruth, ii. Why _alien_ corn? Longfellow, in his poem
+on "Flowers," says:
+
+     "Everywhere about us they are glowing--
+        Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;
+      Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
+        Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."
+
+
+
+
+FROM "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES."
+
+
+       Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
+       And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
+       As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
+       Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
+       And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
+       And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
+       She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
+       Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint:
+     She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
+
+       Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
+       Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
+       Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
+       Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
+       Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
+       Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
+       Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
+       In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
+     But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
+
+       Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
+       In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay,
+       Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed
+       Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
+       Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
+       Blissfully havened both from joy and pain;
+       Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray:
+       Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
+     As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
+
+       Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,
+       Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
+       And listened to her breathing, if it chanced
+       To wake into a slumberous tenderness;
+       Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
+       And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,
+       Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
+       And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept,
+     And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!--how fast she slept.
+
+       Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
+       Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
+       A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon
+       A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:--
+       O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
+       The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
+       The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,
+       Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:--
+     The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.
+
+       And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
+       In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,
+       While he from forth the closet brought a heap
+       Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
+       With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
+       And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;
+       Manna and dates, in argosy transferred
+       From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
+     From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
+
+       These delicates he heaped with glowing hand
+       On golden dishes and in baskets bright
+       Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
+       In the retired quiet of the night,
+       Filling the chilly room with perfume light.--
+       "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
+       Thou art mine heaven, and I thine eremite:
+       Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,
+     Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."
+
+       Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
+       Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
+       By the dusk curtains:--'twas a midnight charm
+       Impossible to melt as iced stream:
+       The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
+       Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
+       It seemed he never, never could redeem
+       From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;
+     So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.
+
+       Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,--
+       Tumultuous,--and, in chords that tenderest be,
+       He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
+       In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy":
+       Close to her ear touching the melody;--
+       Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan:
+       He ceased--she panted quick--and suddenly
+       Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
+     Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.
+
+       Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
+       Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
+       There was a painful change, that nigh expelled
+       The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.
+       At which fair Madeline began to weep,
+       And moan forth witless words with many a sigh
+       While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
+       Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
+     Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.
+
+       "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
+       Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
+       Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
+       And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
+       How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
+       Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
+       Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
+       Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,
+     For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."
+
+       Beyond a mortal man impassioned far
+       At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
+       Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star
+       Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
+       Into her dream he melted, as the rose
+       Blendeth its odor with the violet,--
+       Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
+       Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
+     Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.
+
+       'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
+       "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
+       'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
+       "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!
+       Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.--
+       Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
+       I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,
+       Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;--
+     A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."
+
+       "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
+       Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
+       Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?
+       Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
+       After so many hours of toil and quest,
+       A famished pilgrim,--saved by miracle.
+       Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest,
+       Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
+     To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."
+
+       "Hark!'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
+       Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
+       Arise--arise! the morning is at hand;--
+       The bloated wassailers will never heed:--
+       Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
+       There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,--
+       Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
+       Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
+     For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."
+
+       She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
+       For there were sleeping dragons all around,
+       At glaring watch, perhaps with ready spears--
+       Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,
+       In all the house was heard no human sound.
+       A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;
+       The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
+       Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;
+     And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
+
+       They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall!
+       Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,
+       Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
+       With a huge empty flagon by his side:
+       The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
+       But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
+       By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:--
+       The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;
+     The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.
+
+       And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
+       These lovers fled away into the storm.
+       That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
+       And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
+       Of witch and demon and large coffin-worm,
+       Were long be-nightmared. Angela, the old,
+       Died palsy-twitch'd with meagre face deform;
+       The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
+       For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"The Eve of St. Agnes" is one of the finest of Keats's shorter poems.
+Leigh Hunt describes it as "the most complete specimen of his genius;
+exquisitely loving; young, but full-grown poetry of the rarest
+description; graceful as the beardless Apollo; glowing and gorgeous with
+the colors of romance." The stanzas here quoted, while comprising the
+main portion of the story, are not quite half of the entire poem.
+
+Madeline, the beautiful daughter of a rude and rich old baron, is
+secretly betrothed to Porphyro, a young man whom her father has sworn to
+slay. On the eve of St. Agnes a great feast is in progress in the
+baron's castle. Porphyro, at the risk of his life, "comes across the
+moors, with heart on fire for Madeline." With the aid of the old nurse,
+Angela, he gains admission into the castle and is concealed in a closet,
+where he conceives the plan for their elopement. In the meanwhile,
+Madeline, having danced with her father's guests, retires to her room,
+her mind full of the thought of Porphyro, and intent upon testing the
+truth of the belief, then current, that on this evening, maidens might,
+if they performed certain ceremonies and forms, be vouchsafed a sight of
+their future husbands.
+
+St. Agnes was a young virgin of Palermo, who is said to have suffered
+martyrdom at the age of thirteen, in the Diocletian persecution, about
+A.D. 304. Her feast was celebrated on the 21st of January.
+
+With reference to the versification of this poem, see what is said of
+the Spenserian stanza, page 232. There are many imitations of Spenser in
+these verses.
+
+The student is desired to discover for himself the peculiarities of
+thought, of feeling, of expression, which give interest and beauty to
+this production. The following are a few of the words and expressions
+whose meaning he should study: "Gules"; "taint"; "vespers"; "poppied";
+"Swart Paynims"; "Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness"; "Morphean
+amulet"; "affray"; "azure-lidded sleep"; "argosy"; "missal"; "tinct";
+"Fez"; "Samarcand"; "Lebanon"; "eremite"; "witless"; "alarum"; "entoiled
+in woofed phantasies"; "La belle dame sans mercy"; "heart-shaped and
+vermeil dyed"; "Of haggard seeming"; "arras."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN KEATS was born October 29, 1795, in Moorfields, London. He was sent
+to school at Enfield, where he gained the rudiments of a classical
+education; but, his father having died when John was a mere child, he
+was apprenticed at an early age to a surgeon in Edmonton. When seventeen
+years old a copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene" fell into his hands, and
+the perusal of that great poem was the beginning, for him, of a new
+life. He felt the poetic instinct within him, and resolved that he too
+would be a poet. In 1817 he published a small volume of poems, which
+attracted but little attention; and in 1818 his more ambitious effort,
+"Endymion," was presented to the world. The latter poem was unkindly
+received by the great reviews. The author was advised to "go back to his
+gallipots," and told that "a starved apothecary was better than a
+starved poet." A story was long current that these severe criticisms
+induced Keats's early death, but this is entirely improbable. He
+continued writing, although consumption, a hereditary disease in his
+family, had already begun its work upon him. He published "The Eve of
+St. Agnes" in 1820, and had made some progress with a noble poem,
+entitled "Hyperion," which Lord Byron declared to be "actually inspired
+by the Titans, and as sublime as Æschylus." In September of that year he
+sailed for Italy, but the hope of prolonging life by a change of climate
+proved to be vain. On the 27th of February, 1821, he died at Rome.
+
+"We can hardly be wrong in believing," says Masson, "that had Keats
+lived to the ordinary age of man, he would have been one of the greatest
+of all our poets. As it is, I believe we shall all be disposed to place
+him very near indeed to our very best."
+
+"That which was deepest in his mind," says Stopford Brooke, "was the
+love of loveliness for its own sake, the sense of its rightful and
+pre-eminent power; and, in the singleness of worship which he gave to
+Beauty, Keats is especially the artist, and the true father of the
+latest modern school of poetry."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Endymion; Ode on a Grecian Urn; Lamia; Hyperion;
+To Autumn; Hymn to Apollo; Isabella.
+
+
+REFERENCES: _Keats_ (English Men of Letters), by Sidney Colvin; _Keats_,
+by W. M. Rossetti; Matthew Arnold's Essay on Keats, in Ward's _English
+Poets_; Shairp's _Studies in Poetry_.
+
+
+
+
+The Eighteenth Century.
+
+
+"_The influence of the poetry of the past lasted; new elements were
+added to poetry, and new forms of it took shape. The study of the Greek
+and Latin classics revived, and with it a more artistic poetry. Not only
+correct form, for which Pope sought, but beautiful form was sought
+after. Men like Thomas Gray and William Collins strove to pour into
+their work that simplicity of beauty which the Greek poets and Italians
+like Petrarca had reached as the last result of genius restrained by
+art. . . . Two things had been learned. First, that artistic rules were
+necessary, and, secondly, that natural feeling was necessary in order
+that poetry should have a style fitted to express nobly the emotions and
+thoughts of man. The way was therefore now made ready for a style in
+which the Art should itself be Nature, and it sprang at once into being
+in the work of the poets of this time. The style of Gray is polished to
+the finest point, and yet it is instinct with natural feeling. Goldsmith
+is natural even to simplicity, and yet his verse is even more accurate
+than Pope's. Cowper's style, in such poems as the 'Lines to my Mother's
+Picture,' arises out of the simplest pathos, and yet it is as pure in
+expression as Greek poetry._"--STOPFORD BROOKE.
+
+"_At last there started up an unfortunate Scotch peasant (Burns),
+rebelling against the world, and in love, with the yearnings, lusts,
+greatness, and irrationality of modern genius. Now and then behind his
+plough, he lighted on genuine verses, verses such as Heine and Alfred de
+Musset have written in our own days. In those few words, combined after
+a new fashion, there was a revolution._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Eighteenth Century.
+
+=Alexander Pope= (1688-1744). See biographical note, page 155.
+
+=Thomas Parnell= (1679-1718). "The Hermit"; short poems.
+
+=Edward Young= (1684-1765), "Night Thoughts"; "The Last Day";
+"Resignation."
+
+=Allan Ramsay= (1686-1758). "The Gentle Shepherd": "Scots Songs"; "Fables
+and Tales."
+
+=John Gay= (1688-1732). "The Beggar's Opera"; "The Shepherd's Week";
+"Trivia"; "Rural Sports"; fables, and other short poems.
+
+=Matthew Green= (1696-1737). "The Grotto"; "The Spleen."
+
+=John Dyer= (1698-1758). "Grongar Hill"; "The Fleece."
+
+=Robert Blair= (1699-1746). "The Grave."
+
+=James Thomson= (1700-1748). "The Seasons"; "The Castle of Indolence."
+
+=Samuel Johnson= (1709-1784), "The Vanity of Human Wishes"; "London."
+
+=Richard Glover= (1712-1785). "Leonidas"; "Admiral Hosier's Ghost"; "The
+Athenaid."
+
+=William Shenstone= (1714-1763). "The Schoolmistress"; "Pastoral Ballads."
+
+=Thomas Gray= (1716-1771). See biographical note, page 139.
+
+=William Collins= (1721-1759). Odes and other short poems.
+
+=Mark Akenside= (1721-1770). "The Pleasures of the Imagination."
+
+=Oliver Goldsmith= (1728-1774). See biographical note, page 128.
+
+=Thomas Warton= (1728-1790). "The Pleasures of Melancholy"; "The Triumph
+of Isis"; short poems.
+
+=William Cowper= (1731-1800). See biographical note, page 122.
+
+=Charles Churchill= (1731-1764). "The Prophecy of Famine"; "The Rosciad."
+
+=James Beattie= (1735-1803). "The Minstrel."
+
+=Robert Fergusson= (1750-1774). Short Scottish poems.
+
+=Thomas Chatterton= (1752-1770). "Poems of Thomas Rowlie"; short poems.
+
+=George Crabbe= (1754-1832). "Tales of the Hall"; "The Village"; "The
+Parish Register"; "Tales in Verse."
+
+=William Blake= (1757-1827). "Songs of Innocence"; "Songs of Experience";
+"Poetical Sketches."
+
+=Robert Burns= (1759-1796). See biographical note, page 111.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Burns.
+
+
+
+
+THE COTTER'S{1} SATURDAY NIGHT.
+
+INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.{2}
+
+     Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+       Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+     Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+       The short but simple annals of the Poor.{3}--_Gray._
+
+
+     My loved, my honored, much respected friend!
+     No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+     With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
+     My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+     To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,{4}
+     The lowly train{5} in life's sequestered scene;
+     The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+     What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+     Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there I ween.
+
+     November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;{6}
+     The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+     The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
+     The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose;
+     The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,--
+     This night his weekly moil is at an end,--
+     Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+     Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
+     And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.{7}
+
+     At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+     Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+     Th' expectant wee things toddlin', stacher thro'
+     To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
+     His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,
+     His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wine's smile,
+     The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+     Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
+     An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.{8}
+
+     Belyve, the elder bairns{9} come drapping in,
+     At service out, amang the farmers roun';
+     Some ca'{10} the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
+     A cannie errand to a neibor{11} town:
+     Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+     In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+     Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,
+     Or deposit{12} her sair-won penny-fee,{13}
+     To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+     Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,
+     An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:
+     The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;
+     Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;
+     The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years,
+     Anticipation forward points the view.
+     The mother wi' her needle an' her shears,
+     Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+     The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+     Their master's and their mistress's command,
+     The younkers a' are warned to obey;
+     And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand,
+     And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:
+     "And, oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,
+     And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
+     Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+     Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+     They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"{14}
+
+     But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+     Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+     Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor,
+     To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+     The wily mother sees the conscious flame
+     Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;
+     Wi' heart-struck anxious care inquires his name,
+     While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
+     Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake.
+
+     Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;{15}
+     A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye;
+     Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+     The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.{16}
+     The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+     But, blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave;
+     The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+     What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;
+     Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.
+
+     O happy love! where love like this is found!
+     O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
+     I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
+     And sage experience bids me this declare:--
+     If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+     One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+     'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+     In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
+     Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!
+
+     Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
+     A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,
+     That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+     Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+     Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!
+     Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?
+     Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+     Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+     Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!
+
+     But now the supper crowns their simple board,--
+     The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:
+     The sowpe their only hawkie{17} does afford,
+     That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;
+     The dame brings forth in complimental mood,
+     To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell,
+     An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;
+     The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
+     How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.{18}
+
+     The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+     They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+     The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
+     The big ha'-Bible,{19} ance his father's pride;
+     His bonnet{20} rev'rently is laid aside,
+     His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
+     Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+     He wales a portion with judicious care;
+     And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
+
+     They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+     They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+     Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,
+     Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name,
+     Or noble "Elgin" beets{21} the heavenward flame,
+     The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+     Compared with these, Italian trills are tame,
+     The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
+     Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+     The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
+     How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+     Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+     With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+     Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+     Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+     Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+     Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+     Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+     Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,
+     How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+     How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+     Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:
+     How His first followers and servants sped;
+     The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
+     How he, who lone in Patmos banished,
+     Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+     And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
+
+     Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
+     The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
+     Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"{22}
+     That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+     There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+     No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
+     Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+     In such society, yet still more dear;
+     While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+     Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+     In all the pomp of method and of art,
+     When men display to congregations wide
+     Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
+     The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert,
+     The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole{23};
+     But, haply, in some cottage far apart,
+     May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;
+     And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
+
+     Then homeward all take off their several way;
+     The youngling cottagers retire to rest:
+     The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+     And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
+     That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
+     And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
+     Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+     For them and for their little ones provide;
+     But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+     From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+     That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
+     Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
+     "An honest man's the noblest work of God:"{24}
+     And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
+     The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+     What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous load,
+     Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+     Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!
+
+     O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+     For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,
+     Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+     Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+     And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
+     From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+     Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+     A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+     And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.
+
+     O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide
+     That streamed thro' Wallace's{25} undaunted heart,
+     Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+     Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+     (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,
+     His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+     O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+     But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
+     In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem, composed in 1785, is written partly in the Scottish dialect,
+partly in English. The livelier passages are in the poet's vernacular;
+the loftier or more solemn parts in the language of books. This
+distinction was doubtless made because Burns disliked to treat his
+higher themes in a merely colloquial manner, fearing to belittle them by
+so doing. The household described was probably that of the poet's own
+father; it was at least a typical Scotch peasant's household, with which
+no one was more familiar. Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Dr. Currie,
+says: "Although the 'Cotter' in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of
+my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet
+the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of
+us ever went 'At service out amang the neibors roun'.' Instead of our
+depositing our 'sair-won penny-fee' with our parents, my father labored
+hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to
+keep his children at home."
+
+The influence of Gray and Goldsmith is very apparent in more than one
+passage in this poem.
+
+"Robert had frequently remarked to me," said his brother, "that there
+was something particularly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God,' used by a decent, sober head of a family introducing family
+worship. To this sentiment of the author, the world is indebted for 'The
+Cotter's Saturday Night.' The hint of the plan and title of the poem is
+taken from Ferguson's 'Farmer's Ingle.'"
+
+
+1. =Cotter.= "One who inhabits a cot, or cottage, dependent on a
+farm."--_Jamieson._
+
+2. =R. Aiken.= A friend with whom Burns had been brought into contact
+during the Old and New Light Controversy.
+
+3. See Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," eighth stanza.
+
+4. =lays.= Songs; probably from the same root as the German _lied_. The
+word was originally applied to a form of elegiac French poetry, much
+imitated by the English.
+
+5. =train.= A favorite word with the poets at this time. Goldsmith uses it
+no fewer than six times in the "Deserted Village." The original meaning
+is something drawn along; from Lat. _traho_, to draw.
+
+6. =sugh.= Also spelled _sough_. Whistling sound, murmur. Derived from the
+same root as sigh, for which word it is used by Burns in his lines, "On
+the Battle of Sherriffmuir":
+
+     "My heart for fear gae sough for sough
+       To hear the thuds," etc.
+
+7. Compare with Gray's "Elegy," line 3:
+
+     "The ploughman homeward plods his weary way."
+
+8. Toil was perhaps pronounced _tile_, thus properly rhyming with
+_beguile_. Johnson, in "London," says:
+
+     "On all thy hours security shall smile,
+      And bless thine evening walk and morning toil."
+
+9. =bairns.= From A.-S. _bearns_, children.
+
+10. =ca'.= Drive, follow. Probably not from the same root as our common
+word _call_. Kingsley uses it in this sense in the line:
+
+     "Go, Mary, go, and call the cattle home."
+
+11. =neibor.= Neighboring. Milton, in "Comus," uses the expressions: "Some
+neighbor woodman," "some neighbor villager"; and Shakespeare says: "A
+neighbor thicket" ("Love's Labour Lost"), and "neighbor room"
+("Hamlet").
+
+12. =deposit.= Pronounced here _dep´o-zit_.
+
+13. =penny-fee.= Fee, wages, from A.-S. _feoh_, cattle. "Cattle," says
+Bosworth, "was the first kind of property; and, by bartering, this word
+came to signify money in general." So, too, the word _penny_ is from
+A.-S. _penig_, Icelandic _peningr_, cattle. The word _penny_, as in this
+country the word _dollar_, is used indefinitely for _money_.
+
+14. Observe that in quoting the words of the Cotter the poet partially
+drops the Ayrshire dialect and uses a purer English.
+
+15. =ben.= Within. The inner part of the house; from O. E. _binnan_,
+within. Its opposite is _but_, the outside of the house.
+
+16. =kye.= Cattle, from O.-E. _cu_, or _kie_. _Kine_ is derived from the
+same root, and probably _cow_.
+
+17. =hawkie.= This word, says Hales, "denotes, properly, a cow with a
+white face. So, in Northumberland, _bawsand_ was used of an animal with
+a white spot on its forehead, and _crummie_ of a cow with crooked
+horns."
+
+18. =sin' lint was i' the bell.= Since flax was in bloom. That is, the
+cheese was a year old last flax-blossoming time.
+
+19. =ha'-Bible.= The hall Bible--the Bible kept in the best room.
+
+20. =bonnet.= This word in Scotch denotes a man's head-covering. In early
+English it was used in the same sense.
+
+21. =beets.= Feeds,--that is, gives fuel to the flame.
+
+     "It warms me, it charms me,
+        To mention but her name;
+      It heats me, it beets me,
+        And sets me a' on flame."
+                    --_Burns's Epistle to Davie, a brother poet._
+
+The word is probably from A.-S. _betan_, to better, to mend; from which,
+also, we have the words _beat_, to excel, _better_, _best_, etc.
+
+22. Burns refers the reader to Pope's "Windsor Forest" for this
+quotation. He probably had in mind the line in the "Essay on Man":
+
+     "Hope springs eternal in the human breast."
+
+23. =sacerdotal stole.= A long, narrow scarf with fringed ends, and
+richly embroidered, worn by the clergy upon special occasions.
+=Sacerdotal=, from Lat. _sacerdos_, a priest. =Stole=, from Lat. _stola_, a
+long dress worn by Roman women over their tunic and fastened with a
+girdle.
+
+24. Pope's "Essay on Man," Epistle iv, line 247.
+
+25. William Wallace (1270-1305), the Scotch national hero was, like
+Burns, a native of Ayrshire.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =aft=, often.
+     =amaist=, almost.
+     =amang=, among.
+     =ance=, once.
+     =auld=, old.
+     =belyve=, by and by.
+     =blate=, bashful.
+     =blinkin=, gleaming.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =braw=, brave, fine.
+     =cannie=, easy.
+     =carking=, fretting.
+     =certes=, certain.
+     =chows=, chews.
+     =claes=, clothes.
+     =convoy=, accompany.
+     =cracks=, talks.
+     =craws=, crows.
+     =drapping=, dropping.
+     =eydent=, diligent.
+     =fell=, tasty.
+     =flichterin=, fluttering.
+     =frae=, from.
+     =gang=, go.
+     =gars=, makes.
+     =guid=, good.
+     =hae=, have.
+     =haffets=, temples.
+     =hafflins=, half.
+     =halesome=, wholesome.
+     =hallan=, partition wall.
+     =hameward=, homeward.
+     =ingle=, fire.
+     =jauk=, trifle.
+     =kebbuck=, cheese.
+     =kens=, understands.
+     =lathefu'=, shy.
+     =lave=, the rest.
+     =lyart=, gray.
+     =miry=, muddy, dusty.
+     =moil=, labor.
+     =nae=, no.
+     =parritch=, porridge.
+     =pleugh=, plough.
+     =rin=, run.
+     =sair-won=, hard-earned.
+     =sowpe=, milk.
+     =spiers=, inquires.
+     =stacher=, stagger.
+     =strappin'=, strapping, stout.
+     =tentie=, attentively.
+     =towmond=, twelvemonth.
+     =uncos=, unknown things, new.
+     =wales=, chooses.
+     =wee bit=, little.
+     =weel=, well.
+     =wee things=, little folks.
+     =weel-hained=, well-kept.
+     =wiles=, knowledge.
+     =wily=, knowing.
+     =youngling=, youthful.
+     =younkers=, youngsters, children.
+     ='yont=, on the other side of.
+
+
+
+
+TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.
+
+ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786.
+
+
+     Wee, modest, crimson-tippéd flow'r,
+     Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+     For I maun crush amang the stoure
+               Thy slender stem.
+     To spare thee now is past my power,
+               Thou bonnie gem.
+
+     Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
+     The bonnie lark, companion meet!
+     Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
+               Wi' spreckled breast,
+     When upward springing, blythe to greet
+               The purpling east.
+
+     Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
+     Upon thy early humble birth;
+     Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
+               Amid the storm,
+     Scarce reared above the parent earth
+               Thy tender form.
+
+     The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
+     High sheltering woods an' wa's maun shield;
+     But thou, beneath the random bield
+               O' clod or stane,
+     Adorns the histie stibble-field,
+               Unseen, alane.
+
+     There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
+     Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
+     Thou lifts thy unassuming head
+               In humble guise:
+     But now the share uptears thy bed,
+               And low thou lies!
+
+     Such is the fate of artless maid,
+     Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
+     By love's simplicity betrayed,
+               And guileless trust,
+     Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
+               Low i' the dust.
+
+     Such is the fate of simple bard,
+     On life's rough ocean luckless starred!
+     Unskilful he to note the card
+               Of prudent lore,
+     Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
+               And whelm him o'er!
+
+     Such fate to suffering worth is given,
+     Who long with wants and woes has striven,
+     By human pride or cunning driven
+               To misery's brink,
+     Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,
+               He, ruined, sink!
+
+     Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
+     That fate is thine--no distant date;
+     Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
+               Full on thy bloom,
+     Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,
+               Shall be thy doom.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =bield=, protection.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =bonnie=, pretty.
+     =card=, compass.
+     =glinted=, passed quickly.
+     =histie=, barren.
+     =maun=, must.
+     =spreckled=, speckled.
+     =stibble=, stubble.
+     =stoure=, dust.
+     =weet=, wetness.
+     =wrenched=, deprived.
+
+
+
+
+FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
+
+
+     Is there, for honest poverty,
+       That hangs his head, and a' that?{1}
+     The coward slave, we pass him by,
+       We dare be poor for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+           The rank is but the guinea's stamp,{2}
+             The man's the gowd{3} for a' that!
+
+     What though on hamely fare we dine,
+       Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+     Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+       A man's a man for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+           The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+             Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+     Ye see yon birkie,{4} ca'd a lord,
+       Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
+     Though hundreds worship at his word,
+       He's but a coof{5} for a' that;
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             His riband, star, and a' that;
+           The man of independent mind,
+             He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+     A prince can mak a belted knight,
+       A marquis, duke, and a' that;
+     But an honest man's aboon{6} his might,
+       Guid faith, he maunna fa'{7} that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their dignities, and a' that;
+           The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+             Are higher ranks than a' that!
+
+     Then let us pray that come it may--
+       As come it will for a' that--
+     That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+       May bear the gree,{8} and a' that.
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             It's coming yet, for a' that,
+           That man to man, the warld o'er,
+             Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. Is there anything in honest poverty to cause one to hang his head,
+etc.?
+
+2. Explain lines 7 and 8 fully.
+
+3. =gowd=, gold.
+
+4. =birkie=, fellow.
+
+5. =coof=, fool.
+
+6. =aboon his might=, above his power.
+
+7. =maunna fa'=, may not get.
+
+8. =gree=, palm, supremacy.
+
+"Burns was not only the poet of love, but also of the new excitement
+about man. Himself poor, he sang the poor. Neither poverty nor low birth
+made a man the worse--the man was 'a man for a' that.'"--_Stopford
+Brooke._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT BURNS was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His childhood and
+youth were spent in poverty on his father's farm, where he learned to
+plough, reap, mow, and thresh in the barn, but where opportunities for
+education were such only as Scottish peasants know. In 1784 his father
+died, and he attempted to manage a farm of his own at Mossgiel. The
+experiment proving to be a failure, he resolved to leave Scotland, and
+secured an appointment to a clerkship in Jamaica. Just before the time
+set for his departure, he learned of the success of a volume of his
+poems which had just been published at Kilmarnock; and, instead of
+departing for the West Indies, he made a visit to Edinburgh. He was
+welcomed by the best society, and received at once into the literary
+circles of the Scottish capital. "His name and fame flashed like
+sunshine over the land: the shepherd on the hill, the maiden at her
+wheel, learned his songs by heart, and the first scholars of Scotland
+courted his acquaintance." A second edition of his poems was published
+in 1787, and with the proceeds--about $2500--he took a farm at
+Ellisland, in Nithsdale. But his habits were such that he made sad
+failure a second time in the experiment of farming; and, after two years
+of mismanagement, to eke out his scanty income he accepted an
+appointment as exciseman. In 1791, "unfortunately both for his health
+and for his reputation," he removed to Dumfries, where, five years
+later, he died.
+
+"While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through
+the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous
+pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa Fountain will also
+arrest our eye; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning
+workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full gushing
+current, into the light of day; and often will the traveller turn aside
+to drink of its clear waters, and muse among its rocks and
+pines."--_Carlyle._
+
+"Burns is not the poet's poet, which Shelley no doubt meant to be, or
+the philosopher's poet, which Wordsworth, in spite of himself, is. He is
+the poet of homely human nature, not half so homely or prosaic as it
+seems. His genius, in a manner all its own, associates itself with the
+fortunes, experiences, memorable moments, of human beings whose
+humanity is their sole patrimony; to whom 'liberty and whatever, like
+liberty, has the power
+
+     To raise a man above the brute,
+     And mak him ken himsel,'
+
+is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and
+never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned
+by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the
+great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human
+beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy
+relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy
+out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength
+of which it cannot but grow strong."--_John Service._
+
+"Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive
+power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of
+personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as
+healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,--no
+more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor,
+are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it."--_Hazlitt._
+
+     "His is that language of the heart
+        In which the answering heart would speak,
+      Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,
+        Or the smile light the cheek.
+
+     "And his that music to whose tone
+        The common pulse of man keeps time,
+      In cot or castle's mirth or moan,
+        In cold or sunny clime."
+                                         --_Fitz-Greene Halleck._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To
+a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland
+Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Carlyle's Essay on _Robert Burns_; _Burns_ (English Men of
+Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+William Cowper.
+
+
+
+
+BOADICEA.
+
+
+     When the British warrior queen,
+       Bleeding from the Roman rods,
+     Sought, with an indignant mien,
+       Counsel from her country's gods,
+
+     Sage beneath the spreading oak
+       Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
+     Every burning word he spoke
+       Full of rage, and full of grief.
+
+     "Princess! if our aged eyes
+       Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
+     'Tis because resentment ties
+       All the terrors of our tongues.
+
+     "Rome shall perish--write that word
+       In the blood that she has spilt;
+     Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd,
+       Deep in ruin as in guilt.
+
+     "Rome, for empire far renown'd,
+       Tramples on a thousand states;
+     Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,--
+       Hark, the Gaul is at her gates!
+
+     "Other Romans shall arise,
+       Heedless of a soldier's name;
+     Sounds, not arms,{1} shall win the prize;
+       Harmony the path to fame.
+
+     "Then the progeny that springs
+       From the forests of our land,
+     Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,{2}
+       Shall a wider world command.
+
+     "Regions Cæsar never knew
+       Thy posterity shall sway;
+     Where his eagles never flew
+       None invincible as they."{3}
+
+     Such the bard's prophetic words,
+       Pregnant with celestial fire,
+     Bending as he swept the chords
+       Of his sweet but awful lyre.
+
+     She, with all the monarch's pride,
+       Felt them in her bosom glow,
+     Rush'd to battle, fought and died;
+       Dying, hurled them{4} at the foe.
+
+     Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
+       Heaven awards the vengeance due;
+     Empire is on us bestowed,
+       Shame and ruin wait for you.{5}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, a powerful and warlike tribe of
+Britons, about the middle of the first century. Upon the death of her
+husband, Prasutagus, her kingdom was seized by the Romans, and she
+herself, for some real or imaginary offence, was publicly scourged.
+During the absence of the Roman governor from that part of England,
+Boadicea raised an immense army, burned the city of London, and put
+70,000 Romans to the sword. She afterwards, with 230,000 troops, met the
+Roman army, under Suetonius, in the field, and although the Romans could
+muster only 10,000 soldiers, the British army was defeated, and the
+queen, in despair, ended her own life by taking poison.
+
+In this poem, Cowper represents the queen as, soon after her shameful
+treatment by the Romans, seeking counsel from one of the native priests.
+The Druid prophesies the destruction of Rome and the future greatness of
+Britain.
+
+1. =Sounds, not arms.= Does the poet allude to the cultivation of oratory
+and poetry among the Romans and the neglect of military affairs?
+
+2. =Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings.= What do these expressions mean?
+To what do they refer?
+
+3. Explain the prophecy included in this stanza.
+
+4. =hurled them.= Hurled what?
+
+5. This stanza, evidently a part of the imprecation which Boadicea
+"hurled" at her enemies, ought to be enclosed with quotation marks, but
+in most versions of the poem it appears without them.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE.
+
+
+     Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed
+     With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
+     Those lips are thine--thy own sweet smile I see,
+     The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
+     Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
+     "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
+     The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
+     (Blessed be the art that can immortalize,
+     The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
+     To quench it) here shines on me still the same.
+       Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
+     O welcome guest, though unexpected here!
+     Who bidst me honor with an artless song,
+     Affectionate, a mother lost so long,
+     I will obey, not willingly alone,
+     But gladly, as the precept were her own:
+     And, while that face renews my filial grief,
+     Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
+     Shall steep{1} me in Elysian reverie,{2}
+     A momentary dream that thou art she.
+       My mother! when I learnt{3} that thou wast dead,
+     Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?
+     Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
+     Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?
+     Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss;
+     Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
+     Ah! that maternal smile! It answers--Yes.
+     I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,
+     I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
+     And, turning from my nursery window, drew
+     A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!
+     But was it such?--It was.--Where thou art gone
+     Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
+     May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,
+     The parting word shall pass my lips no more!
+     The maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,{4}
+     Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
+     What ardently I wished I long believed,
+     And, disappointed still, was still deceived.
+     By expectation every day beguiled,
+     Dupe of _to-morrow_ even from a child.
+     Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,
+     Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
+     I learned at last submission to my lot;
+     But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.
+       Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,
+     Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;
+     And where the gardener Robin, day by day,
+     Drew me to school along the public way,
+     Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped
+     In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,
+     'Tis now become a history little known,
+     That once we called the pastoral house our own.
+     Short-lived possession! but the record fair
+     That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,
+     Still outlives many a storm that has effaced
+     A thousand other themes less deeply traced.{5}
+     Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,
+     That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;
+     Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
+     The biscuit, or confectionary plum;{6}
+     The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed
+     By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;
+     All this, and more endearing still than all,
+     Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
+     Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes
+     That humor interposed too often makes;{7}
+     All this still legible in memory's page,
+     And still to be so to my latest age,
+     Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
+     Such honors to thee as my numbers may;
+     Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
+     Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
+       Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,
+     When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,
+     The violet, the pink, and jessamine,
+     I pricked them into paper with a pin
+     (And thou wast happier than myself the while,
+     Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile),
+     Could those few pleasant days again appear,
+     Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?
+     I would not trust my heart--the dear delight
+     Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.--
+     But no--what here we call our life is such
+     So little to be loved, and thou so much,
+     That I should ill requite thee to constrain
+     Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
+       Thou, as a gallant bark{8} from Albion's coast
+     (The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)
+     Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
+     Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,
+     There sits quiescent on the floods that show
+     Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
+     While airs impregnated with incense play
+     Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;
+     So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,
+     "Where tempests never beat nor billows roar."{9}
+     And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide
+     Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
+     But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
+     Always from port withheld, always distressed--
+     Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost,
+     Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,
+     And day by day some current's thwarting force,
+     Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
+     Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he!
+     That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
+     My boast is not, that I deduce my birth
+     From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;
+     But higher far my proud pretensions rise--
+     The son of parents passed into the skies!
+     And now, farewell--Time unrevoked has run
+     His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.
+     By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
+     I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;
+     To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
+     Without the sin of violating thine:
+     And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,
+     And I can view this mimic show of thee,{10}
+     Time has but half succeeded in his theft--
+     Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This, one of the most exquisite poems in the language, was written by
+Cowper in "the last glimmering of the evening light," before his mind
+was wholly overwhelmed by the final attack of insanity. "Every line is
+instinct with a profound and chastened feeling, to which it would be
+difficult to find a parallel. There is not a phrase, not a word, which
+jars upon the most susceptible ear, not a tinge of exaggeration, not a
+touch that is excessive. The fact that he who gave forth these supreme
+utterances of filial love was old himself when he did it, brings into
+the relationship a strange, tender equality which is marvellously
+touching."
+
+1. =steep.= Imbue. From Ger. _stippen_. From the same root as _dip_, with
+the letter _s_ prefixed.
+
+2. =Elysian reverie.= Heavenly meditation. See note on Elysium, page 79.
+
+3. =when I learnt.= Cowper was only six years old when his mother died.
+
+4. =concern.= Distress, anxiety.
+
+5. Nearly fifty years after his mother's death, Cowper wrote: "I can
+truly say that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal veracity
+say a day) in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her
+tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she had for showing it
+was so short."
+
+6. =plum.= Perhaps the gravest fault in this poem is the frequent
+intermixture, as in these two lines, of trivial thoughts and
+circumstances with those of a more noble character.
+
+7. Explain the metaphor which the poet attempts to carry through these
+three lines. =Brakes= = _breaks_, interruptions. What is the meaning of
+_humor_?
+
+8. =as a gallant bark.= Observe the beauty of the simile in these twelve
+lines, also of the simile which follows.
+
+9. Probably misquoted from "The Dispensary," by Samuel Garth
+(1670-1719):
+
+     "To die is landing on some silent shore,
+     Where billows never break nor tempests roar."
+
+10. =this mimic show.= Explain the meaning of this expression.
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON A HARE.
+
+
+     Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
+       Nor swifter greyhound follow,
+     Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
+       Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;
+
+     Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
+       Who, nursed with tender care,
+     And to domestic bounds confined,
+       Was still a wild Jack hare.
+
+     Though duly from my hand he took
+       His pittance every night,
+     He did it with a jealous look,
+       And, when he could, would bite.
+
+     His diet was of wheaten bread,
+       And milk, and oats, and straw;
+     Thistles, or lettuces instead,
+       With sand to scour his maw.
+
+     On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
+       On pippins' russet peel,
+     And, when his juicy salads failed,
+       Sliced carrot pleased him well.
+
+     A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
+       Whereon he loved to bound,
+     To skip and gambol like a fawn,
+       And swing his rump around.
+
+     His frisking was at evening hours,
+       For then he lost his fear,
+     But most before approaching showers,
+       Or when a storm drew near.
+
+     Eight years and five round-rolling moons
+       He thus saw steal away,
+     Dozing out all his idle noons,
+       And every night at play.
+
+     I kept him for his humor's sake,
+       For he would oft beguile
+     My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
+       And force me to a smile.
+
+     But now beneath this walnut shade
+       He finds his long last home,
+     And waits, in snug concealment laid,
+       Till gentler Puss shall come.
+
+     He, still more agèd, feels the shocks
+       From which no care can save,
+     And, partner once of Tiney's box,
+       Must soon partake his grave.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM COWPER was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His
+father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the
+family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school
+and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the
+profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at
+Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a
+solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle,
+Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords.
+The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy
+love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for
+more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity,
+which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his
+fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume
+was published in 1782, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces,
+the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement," and "Table Talk." His
+second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium,"
+and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through
+the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of
+Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his
+death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as
+an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast.
+
+Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the
+mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial
+poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that
+he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a
+depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted
+him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of
+the Royal George.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Southey's _Life of William Cowper_; _Cowper_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Macaulay's Essay
+on _Moore's Life of Byron_; _Life of Cowper_, in the "Globe Edition" of
+his works.
+
+
+
+
+Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+
+
+
+THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."
+
+
+       Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
+     Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
+     There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,
+     The mingling notes came soften'd from below:
+     The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+     The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
+     The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
+     The playful children just let loose from school,
+     The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
+     And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind--
+     These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+     And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
+     But now the sounds of population fail,
+     No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
+     No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
+     For all the bloomy flush of life is fled--
+     All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,
+     That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
+     She, wretched matron--forc'd in age, for bread,
+     To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
+     To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,
+     To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn--
+     She only left of all the harmless train,
+     The sad historian of the pensive plain!
+
+       Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
+     And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;
+     There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
+     The village preacher's{1} modest mansion rose.
+     A man he was to all the country dear,
+     And passing{2} rich with forty pounds{3} a year;
+     Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
+     Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;
+     Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,
+     By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
+     Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
+     More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
+     His house was known to all the vagrant train;
+     He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain:
+     The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
+     Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
+     The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
+     Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
+     The broken soldier,{4} kindly bade to stay,
+     Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,
+     Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done,
+     Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
+     Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
+     And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
+     Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
+     His pity gave ere charity began.
+       Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
+     And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;
+     But in his duty prompt at every call,
+     He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all;
+     And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
+     To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+     He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+     Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
+       Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
+     And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
+     The reverend champion stood. At his control
+     Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
+     Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
+     And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
+       At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
+     His looks adorned the venerable place:
+     Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
+     And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
+     The service past, around the pious man,
+     With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
+     Even children followed with endearing wile,
+     And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile.
+     His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed;
+     Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
+     To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
+     But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
+     As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
+     Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
+     Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
+     Eternal sunshine settles on its head.{5}
+
+       Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
+     With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
+     There in his noisy mansion,{6} skilled to rule,
+     The village master taught his little school.
+     A man severe he was, and stern to view;
+     I knew him well, and every truant knew;
+     Well had the boding{7} tremblers learned to trace
+     The day's disasters in his morning face;
+     Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
+     At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
+     Full well the busy whisper circling round
+     Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
+     Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
+     The love he bore to learning was in fault;
+     The village{8} all declared how much he knew;
+     'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
+     Lands he could measure, terms and tides{9} presage,
+     And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:{10}
+     In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;
+     For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
+     While words of learned length and thundering sound
+     Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
+     And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
+     That one small head could carry all he knew.
+       But past is all his fame. The very spot
+     Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =The village preacher.=--"This picture of the village pastor," says
+Irving, "which was taken in part from the character of his father,
+embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the
+natures of the father and son seem to have been identical. . . . To us
+the whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as
+if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble
+himself at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to
+practise."
+
+2. =passing rich.= Exceedingly rich. The word is a common one among the
+poets. "Is she not passing fair?" (Shakespeare, "Two Gentlemen of
+Verona," Act iv, sc. 4); "How passing sweet is solitude" (Cowper,
+"Retirement").
+
+3. =forty pounds.= In his dedication of "The Traveller," Goldsmith refers
+to his brother Henry as "a man who, despising fame and fortune, has
+retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of forty pounds
+a year."
+
+4. =broken soldier.= See "The Soldier's Dream," Campbell.
+
+     "And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay!"
+
+5. The simile included in these four lines, says Lord Lytton, is
+translated almost literally from a poem by the Abbé de Chaulieu, who
+died in 1720. "Every one must own," adds he, "that, in copying,
+Goldsmith wonderfully improved the original."
+
+6. =The village master.=--The portrait here drawn of the village
+schoolmaster is from Goldsmith's own teacher, Thomas Byrne, with whom he
+was placed when six years old. "Byrne had been educated for a
+pedagogue," says Irving, "but had enlisted in the army, served abroad
+during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen to the rank of
+quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no
+longer exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled the
+urchin populace of Lissoy.
+
+"There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given
+in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond
+wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a
+world of campaigning stories of which he was generally the hero, and
+which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to
+have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a
+powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an
+unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.
+
+"Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious.
+He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland,
+all which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition
+Goldsmith soon became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore."
+
+=noisy mansion.= The old-time school-room was a noisy place, the pupils
+studying their lessons aloud, and but little care being taken to secure
+quietness at any time.
+
+7. =boding.= Foreboding; seeing that which is about to happen. From A.-S.
+_bodian_, to announce, to foretell.
+
+8. =village.= Villagers.
+
+9. =terms and tides.= Times and seasons. =presage.= Foreknow. From Lat.
+_pre_, before, and _sagio_, to perceive.
+
+10. =gauge.= Measure liquids. The humor in this and in some other
+expressions in these verses is too apparent to require comment.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH was born at Pallas, county of Longford, Ireland, on the
+10th of November, 1728. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and
+afterwards studied medicine at Edinburgh and at Leyden. After travelling
+on foot through portions of Western Europe, he made his way to London,
+where he was in turn assistant to a chemist, usher in a school at
+Peckham, and literary hack for one of the leading monthly publications.
+He afterwards contributed many articles, both in prose and poetry, to
+the leading periodicals of the time. He wrote "The Traveller" in 1764,
+and "The Deserted Village" and _The Vicar of Wakefield_ in 1770. He died
+in his chambers in Brick Court, London, April 4, 1774. For a full
+account of his life, read Macaulay's Essay on Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+"The naturalness and ease of Goldsmith's poetry," says Edward Dowden,
+"are those of an accomplished craftsman. His verse, which flows towards
+the close of the period with such a gentle yet steady advance, is not
+less elaborated than that of Pope; and Goldsmith conceived his verse
+more in paragraphs than in couplets. His artless words were, each one,
+delicately chosen; his simple constructions were studiously sought." And
+Sir Walter Scott said of him: "It would be difficult to point out one
+among the English poets less likely to be excelled in his own style.
+Possessing much of Pope's versification without the monotonous structure
+of his lines; rising sometimes to the swell and fulness of Dryden,
+without his inflections; delicate and masterly in his descriptions;
+graceful in one of the greatest graces of poetry, its transitions; alike
+successful in his sportive or grave, his playful or melancholy mood; he
+may long bid defiance to the numerous competitors whom the friendship or
+flattery of the present age is so hastily arraying against him."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Traveller; the rest of The Deserted Village;
+Retaliation.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Irving's _Life of Goldsmith_; Forster's _Life and Times of
+Oliver Goldsmith_; Macaulay's Essay on _Goldsmith_; Thackeray's _English
+Humorists of the Eighteenth Century_; De Quincey's _Eighteenth Century_;
+Hazlitt's _English Poets_; _Goldsmith_ (English Men of Letters), by
+William Black.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Gray.
+
+
+
+
+THE BARD.
+
+
+I. 1.
+
+       "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+         Confusion on thy banners wait;
+       Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,{1}
+         They mock the air with idle state.{2}
+       Helm, nor hauberk's{3} twisted mail,
+       Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+       To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
+       From Cambria's{4} curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+     Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+       Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
+     As down the steep of Snowdon's{5} shaggy side
+       He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+     Stout Gloster{6} stood aghast in speechless trance:
+     "To arms!" cried Mortimer,{7} and couched his quivering lance.
+
+
+I. 2.
+
+       On a rock{8} whose haughty brow
+     Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,
+       Robed in the sable garb of woe,
+     With haggard eyes the poet stood,
+     (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+     Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air{9})
+     And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
+     Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.{10}
+       "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
+     Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+     O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
+       Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+     Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+     To high-born Hoel's{11} harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+
+I. 3.
+
+       "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+       That hushed the stormy main:{12}
+     Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
+       Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+       Modred, whose magic song
+     Made huge Plinlimmon{13} bow his cloud-topt head.
+       On dreary Arvon's shore{14} they lie,
+     Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:
+     Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;
+       The famished eagle{15} screams, and passes by.
+     Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+       Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+     Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,{16}
+       Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
+     No more I weep. They do not sleep.
+       On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
+     I see them sit,{17} they linger yet,
+       Avengers of their native land:
+     With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+     And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+
+II. 1.
+
+       "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,{18}
+     The winding sheet of Edward's race.
+       Give ample room, and verge enough
+     The characters of hell to trace.
+     Mark the year, and mark the night,
+     When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+     The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,
+     Shrieks of an agonizing king!{19}
+       She-wolf of France,{20} with unrelenting fangs,
+     That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+       From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+     The scourge of heaven.{21} What terrors round him wait!
+     Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
+     And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+
+II. 2.
+
+       "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+     Low on his funeral couch he lies!{22}
+       No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+     A tear to grace his obsequies.
+       Is the sable warrior{23} fled?
+     Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+     The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,
+     Gone to salute the rising morn.
+     Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,{24}
+       While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+     In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
+       Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+     Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
+     That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+
+II. 3.
+
+       "Fill high the sparkling bowl,
+     The rich repast prepare;
+       Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+     Close by the regal chair
+       Fell Thirst and Famine scowl{25}
+       A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+     Heard ye the din of battle{26} bray,
+       Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+       Long years of havoc urge their destined course,
+     And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+       Ye towers of Julius,{27} London's lasting shame,
+     With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+       Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+     And spare the meek usurper's{28} holy head.
+     Above, below, the rose of snow,
+       Twined with her blushing foe,{29} we spread:
+     The bristled boar{30} in infant-gore
+       Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+     Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+     Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+
+III. 1.
+
+       "Edward,{31} lo! to sudden fate
+     (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+       Half of thy heart{32} we consecrate.
+     (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+     Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
+     Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
+     In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
+     They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+     But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+       Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+     Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!{33}
+       Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+     No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+     All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+
+III. 2.
+
+       "Girt with many a baron bold
+     Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+       And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
+     In bearded majesty, appear.
+     In the midst a form divine!{34}
+     Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
+     Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,{35}
+     Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.
+     What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
+       What strains of vocal transport round her play.
+     Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,{36} hear;
+       They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+     Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
+     Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
+
+
+III. 3.
+
+     "The verse adorn again
+       Fierce War, and faithful Love,{37}
+     And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
+       In buskined measures{38} move
+     Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+     With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+       A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
+     Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+     And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+       That lost in long futurity expire.
+     Fond,{39} impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
+       Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
+     To-morrow he repairs{40} the golden flood,
+       And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+     Enough for me; with joy I see
+       The different doom our fates assign.
+     Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+       To triumph, and to die, are mine."
+     He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+     Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a
+tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the
+conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands
+to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I.,
+as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are
+suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the
+summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human,
+reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had
+brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race,
+and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never
+extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men
+shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal
+strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure
+tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the
+mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."
+
+The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had
+any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer
+Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the
+Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence
+had not been diminished.
+
+This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after
+Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniform
+stanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three
+stanzas. The first of these parts is called the _Strophe_, or Turn; the
+second, the _Antistrophe_, or Counter-turn; the third, the _Epode_, or
+After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the
+ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient
+Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side
+of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed
+movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned
+to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the
+relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which
+enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown
+among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English
+language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our
+odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and
+divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such
+are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and
+Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are
+odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype
+and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so
+thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be
+given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English
+composition.
+
+1. =crimson wing.= Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+2. Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:
+
+     "Mocking the air with colors idly spread."
+
+3. =hauberk.= From A.-S. _heals_, the neck, and _beorgan_, to protect.
+"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven,
+forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to
+every motion."--_Gray._
+
+4. =Cambria.= Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber,
+the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions
+among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England),
+which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania;
+and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.
+
+5. =Snowdon.= "Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous
+tract which the Welsh themselves call _Cragium-eryri_. It included all
+the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the
+river Conway."--_Gray._ It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of
+Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.
+
+=shaggy.= See "Lycidas," 54:
+
+     "Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."
+
+6. =Gloster.= "Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and
+Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."--_Gray._
+
+7. =Mortimer.= Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of
+King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the
+Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.
+
+8. =rock.= One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the
+extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the
+Conway River.
+
+9. "The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael,
+representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two
+of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other
+in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."--_Gray._
+
+10. Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+11. =Hoel.= A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still
+extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards.
+The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers
+to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of
+Taliessin--the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony."
+It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a
+bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war
+with King Edward. (See note 7, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of
+mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?
+
+12. =hushed the stormy main.= Shakespeare says:
+
+         "The rude sea grew civil at her song,
+     And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
+     To hear the sea-maid's music."
+                      --_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+13. =Plinlimmon.= A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is
+probably a corruption of _Pum-lumon_, "the fire-beacons," so-called
+because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the
+group.
+
+14. =Arvon's shore.= Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in
+Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland,
+opposite the island of Anglesey.
+
+15. =eagle.= "Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build
+their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some
+think) were named by the Welsh, _Craigian-eryri_, or the crags of the
+eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called
+'the Eagle's Nest.'"--_Gray._
+
+16. =Dear as the ruddy drops.= Shakespeare has it:
+
+     "As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
+      That visit my sad heart."
+                                 --_Julius Cæsar_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+17. =I see them sit.= See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:
+
+                "On the steep
+     Where your old bards, the Druids lie."
+
+=griesly.= Grisly. From the A.-S. _grisli_, dreadful.
+
+18. =Weave the warp=, etc. As the _Fates_ were represented by the ancient
+Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so the _Norns_ in the Norse
+mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in
+battle.
+
+     "Glittering lances are the loom,
+        Where the dusky warp we strain,--
+      Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
+        Shoot the trembling cords along;
+      Swords that once a monarch bore,
+        Keep the tissue close and strong."
+                       --_The Fatal Sisters_, translated by Gray,
+                                                  from the Norse.
+
+19. "Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."--_Gray._
+The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327.
+Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley,
+about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before
+the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its
+founders.
+
+20. =She-wolf of France.= Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II.
+Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:
+
+     "She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."
+                                   --_3 Henry VI._, Act i, sc. 4.
+
+21. Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge
+to France.
+
+22. "Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and
+even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his
+mistress."--_Gray._
+
+23. =sable warrior.= "Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
+father."--_Gray._
+
+24. The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is
+figured in this and the following lines.
+
+25. =Thirst and Famine scowl.= When Richard II. died in prison, his body
+was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet
+rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But
+the older writers assert that he was starved to death.
+
+26. =din of battle.= "Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."--_Gray._
+
+=bray.= From Gr. _bracho_, to clash.
+
+27. =towers of Julius.= "The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of
+London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar."--_Gray._
+
+28. =meek usurper.= "Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line
+of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."--_Gray._ The
+references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen
+Margaret, and his father, Henry V.
+
+29. =The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.= The reference is to
+the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the
+Roses.
+
+30. =bristled boar.= Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver
+boar. So Shakespeare:
+
+     "In the sty of the most deadly boar."
+                                 --_Richard III._, Act iv, sc. 5.
+
+     "The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar
+      That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,
+      Swills your warm blood like wash."
+                                          --_Ibid._ Act v, sc. 2.
+
+31. The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again
+addresses the king.
+
+32. =Half of thy heart.= "Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the
+conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her
+lord is well known."--_Gray._
+
+Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as
+
+     "Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,
+        Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,
+      Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,
+        Sweet as new buds in spring."
+
+33. The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were
+ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal
+grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother
+was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied
+that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which
+seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."--_Gray._
+
+34. =a form divine.= Elizabeth.
+
+35. =awe-commanding face.= "Speed, relating an audience given by Queen
+Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she,
+lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately
+port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie
+cheekes.'"--_Gray._
+
+36. Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth
+century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his
+countrymen.
+
+37. See "Faerie Queene," 1:
+
+     "Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."
+
+38. =buskined measures.= The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare.
+So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The
+buskin was the Greek _cothurnus_, a boot with high heels, designed to
+add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.
+
+39. =Fond.= Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so
+used by the older poets.
+
+40. =he repairs.= So Milton:
+
+     "Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
+      And yet anon repairs his drooping head."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+THOMAS GRAY was born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through
+the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that
+famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735
+entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University
+without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple.
+Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour
+through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in
+Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself
+possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and
+devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and
+gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first
+of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of
+Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country
+Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written
+and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of
+Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber;
+but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern
+History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was
+never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of
+fifty-four.
+
+"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales,
+"and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not
+only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps too fastidious, was pure and
+thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were
+of the truest and sincerest. . . . His poems are works of refinement
+rather than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine
+sentiment. They are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of
+their author's reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with
+difficulty escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a
+genuine poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and
+truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed
+and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."
+
+Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could
+not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true
+in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost
+alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was
+'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.'
+Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of
+poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray
+may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he
+aimed."
+
+Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only
+poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."
+
+Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea,
+scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the
+best sense, one of the classics of English literature."
+
+And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most
+finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which
+poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the
+comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since
+Milton."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a
+Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of English Poets_; _Gray_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt's _Lectures on the English Poets_;
+Roscoe's _Essays_.
+
+
+
+
+Alexander Pope.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "ESSAY ON CRITICISM."
+
+
+     Some to Conceit{1} alone their taste confine,
+     And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;
+     Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;{2}
+     One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.{3}
+     Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
+     The naked nature and the living grace,
+     With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,
+     And hide with ornaments their want of art.
+     True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;
+     What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;{4}
+     Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
+     That gives us back the image of our mind.
+     As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
+     So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
+     For works may have more wit than does 'em good,
+     As bodies perish through excess of blood.
+       Others for Language all their care express,
+     And value books, as women men,{5} for dress:
+     Their praise is still,--the style is excellent;
+     The sense, they humbly take upon content.{6}
+     Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
+     Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:
+     False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
+     In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;
+     The face of nature we no more survey,
+     All glares alike, without distinction gay:
+     But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
+     Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
+     It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
+     Expression is the dress of thought, and still
+     Appears more decent, as more suitable;
+     A vile conceit in pompous words express'd
+     Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:
+     For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,{7}
+     As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.
+     Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
+     Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;
+     Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,
+     Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,
+     Unlucky, as Fungoso{8} in the play,
+     These sparks{9} with awkward vanity display
+     What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
+     And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
+     As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.
+     In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;
+     Alike fantastic, if too new or old:
+     Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
+     Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
+       But most by numbers judge a poet's song,
+     And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:
+     In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,
+     Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;
+     Who haunt Parnassus{10} but to please their ear,
+     Not mend{11} their minds, as some to church repair,
+     Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
+     These equal syllables alone require,
+     Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;{12}
+     While expletives their feeble aid do join;
+     And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
+     While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
+     With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
+     Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"
+     In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":{13}
+     If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"
+     The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":
+     Then, at the last and only couplet fraught
+     With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
+     A needless Alexandrine ends the song,{14}
+     That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.{15}
+     Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
+     What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
+     And praise the easy vigor of a line,
+     Where Denham's strength and Waller's{16} sweetness join.
+     True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
+     As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
+     'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
+     The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
+     Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
+     And the smooth stream in smoother numbers{17} flows;
+     But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
+     The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:
+     When Ajax{18} strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
+     The line too labors, and the words move slow:
+     Not so, when swift Camilla{19} scours the plain,
+     Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
+     Hear how Timotheus'{20} vary'd lays surprise,
+     And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
+     While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove{21}
+     Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
+     Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
+     Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
+     Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
+     And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!
+     The power of music all our hearts allow,
+     And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
+       Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,
+     Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
+     At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,
+     That always shows great pride, or little sense:
+     Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,
+     Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
+     Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;
+     For fools admire, but men of sense approve:
+     As things seem large which we through mists descry;
+     Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
+       Some foreign writers, some our own despise;
+     The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
+     Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd
+     To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.
+     Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
+     And force that sun but on a part to shine,
+     Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,
+     But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
+     Which from the first has shone on ages past,
+     Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
+     Tho' each may feel increases and decays,
+     And see now clearer and now darker days.
+     Regard not, then, if wit be old or new,
+     But blame the false, and value still the true.
+       Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
+     But catch the spreading notion of the Town;
+     They reason and conclude by precedent,
+     And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
+     Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then
+     Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
+     Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
+     That in proud dulness joins with Quality.{22}
+     A constant critic at the great man's board,
+     To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.
+     What woful stuff this madrigal would be,
+     In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?
+     But let a Lord once own the happy lines,
+     How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
+     Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,
+     And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724
+lines, and is written in heroic couplets--that style of poetic
+composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound
+critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in
+a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of
+the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by
+Boileau's "Art Poétique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica,"
+and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the
+classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of
+independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but
+having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to
+mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by
+no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this
+poem."
+
+1. =Conceit.= Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty;
+it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."--_Pope._
+
+2. =fit.= Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise
+Lost," V, 7).
+
+3. =wit.= This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to
+indicate a variety of ideas,--such as thought, knowledge, imagination,
+expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer
+than twelve couplets rhyming to it.
+
+4. "It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the
+maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed
+them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that
+these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate
+as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their
+truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so
+well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best
+critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever
+trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended
+upon how to say it."--_Pattison._
+
+5. =as women men.= "As women value men," or "as women by men are
+valued"--which?
+
+6. =humbly take upon content.= Are satisfied to take in faith.
+
+7. =sort.= Agree.
+
+8. =Fungoso.= A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his
+Humour."
+
+9. =sparks.= Fops; vain, showy men.
+
+10. =Parnassus.= A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the
+Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.
+
+11. =mend.= Improve, make better, amend.
+
+          "Mend your speech a little
+      Lest it may mar your fortunes."
+
+--_Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i, sc. i.
+
+12. "The gaping of the vowels in this line, the expletive _do_ in the
+next, and the ten monosyllables in that which follows, give such a
+beauty to this passage as would have been very much admired in an
+ancient poet."--_Addison._
+
+13. Pope himself is not disinclined to make use of these rhymes. See
+"Essay on Man," 271.
+
+     "Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
+      Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees."
+
+14. Referring to the Spenserian stanza which is composed of nine lines,
+eight of which are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter or
+Alexandrine. The name Alexandrine is said to have been derived from an
+old French poem on Alexander the Great, written about the twelfth or
+thirteenth century, and composed entirely of hexameter verses. See note
+on the versification of the "Faerie Queene," page 234.
+
+15. Observe the skill with which, both in this line and in several which
+precede and follow, the poet has made "the sound to seem an echo to the
+sense."
+
+16. Waller had been regarded as the greatest poet of the seventeenth
+century (see page 205), and Denham, in the time of Pope, was more
+esteemed than Milton or Spenser. Dryden called Denham
+
+                         "That limping old bard
+     Whose fame on 'The Sophy' and 'Cooper's Hill' stands."
+
+17. =numbers.= Poetical metre.
+
+     "As yet a child nor yet a fool to fame,
+      I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came."
+                              --_Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot._
+
+18. =Ajax.= "The beautiful distich upon Ajax puts me in mind of a
+description in Homer's 'Odyssey,' which none of the critics have taken
+notice of. It is where Sisyphus is represented lifting his stone up the
+hill which is no sooner carried to the top of it, but it immediately
+tumbles to the bottom. This double motion of the stone is admirably
+described in the numbers of these verses; as in the four first it is
+heaved up by several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places,
+and at last trundles down in a continual line of dactyls."--_Addison._
+
+19. =Camilla.= The virgin queen of the Volsci. She aided Turnus against
+Æneas, and was famed for her fleetness of foot.
+
+20. =Timotheus.= See notes on "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden.
+
+21. =son of Libyan Jove.= Alexander. See note 5, page 166.
+
+22. =Quality.= Persons of high rank.
+
+
+
+
+ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+MDCCVIII.
+
+
+I.
+
+     Descend, ye Nine!{1} descend and sing;
+     The breathing instruments inspire,
+     Wake into voice each silent string,
+     And sweep the sounding lyre!
+       In a sadly pleasing strain,{2}
+       Let the warbling lute complain:
+           Let the loud trumpet sound,
+           Till the roofs all around
+           The shrill echoes rebound;
+     While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
+     The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
+         Hark! the numbers soft and clear
+         Gently steal upon the ear;
+         Now louder, and yet louder rise,
+         And fill with spreading sounds the skies:
+     Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
+     In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats,
+         Till, by degrees, remote and small,
+           The strains decay,
+           And melt away,
+         In a dying, dying fall.
+
+
+II.
+
+     By music, minds an equal temper know,{3}
+     Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
+     If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
+     Music her soft, assuasive{4} voice applies;
+       Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
+       Exalts her in enlivening airs.
+     Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
+     Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
+         Melancholy lifts her head,
+         Morpheus rouses from his bed,
+         Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
+         Listening Envy drops her snakes;
+     Intestine war no more our passions wage,
+     And giddy factions hear away their rage.
+
+
+III.
+
+     But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
+     How martial music every bosom warms!
+     So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,
+     High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,{5}
+         While Argo saw her kindred trees
+           Descend from Pelion to the main.
+       Transported demi-gods{6} stood round,
+       And men grew heroes at the sound,
+         Inflamed with glory's charms;
+     Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
+     And half unsheathed the shining blade:
+       And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound,
+         To arms! to arms! to arms!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     But when, through all the infernal bounds{7}
+     Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,
+         Love, strong as death,{8} the poet led
+         To the pale nations of the dead,
+       What sounds were heard,
+       What scenes appear'd,
+         O'er all the dreary coast!
+         Dreadful gleams,
+         Dismal screams,
+         Fires that glow,
+         Shrieks of woe,
+         Sullen moans,
+         Hollow groans,
+       And cries of tortured ghosts!
+         But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
+         And see! the tortured ghosts respire,
+         See, shady forms{9} advance!
+       Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,{10}
+       Ixion rests upon his wheel,
+         And the pale spectres dance;
+     The Furies sink upon their iron beds,
+     And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.
+
+
+V.
+
+         By the streams that ever flow,
+         By the fragrant winds that blow
+           O'er the Elysian flowers;
+         By those happy souls who dwell
+         In yellow meads of asphodel,
+           Or amaranthine bowers;
+         By the heroes' armed shades,
+         Glittering through the gloomy glades,
+         By the youths that died for love,
+         Wandering in the myrtle grove,
+     Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
+     Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
+
+         He sung, and hell{11} consented
+           To hear the poet's prayer;
+         Stern Proserpine relented,
+           And gave him back the fair.
+             Thus song could prevail
+             O'er death and o'er hell,
+     A conquest how hard and how glorious!
+         Though fate had fast bound her
+         With Styx nine times round her,
+     Yet music and love were victorious.{12}
+
+
+VI.
+
+     But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:
+     Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
+     How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
+     No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
+       Now under hanging mountains,
+       Beside the falls of fountains,
+       Or where Hebrus wanders,
+       Rolling in meanders,
+         All alone,
+         Unheard, unknown,
+         He makes his moan;
+         And calls her ghost,
+       For ever, ever, ever lost!
+       Now with furies surrounded,{13}
+       Despairing, confounded,
+       He trembles, he glows,
+       Amidst Rhodope's{14} snows:
+     See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;
+     Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries--
+                           Ah see, he dies!
+       Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
+     Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,
+         Eurydice the woods,
+         Eurydice the floods,
+     Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         Music{15} the fiercest grief can charm,
+         And fate's severest rage disarm;
+         Music can soften pain to ease,
+         And make despair and madness please:
+             Our joys below it can improve,
+             And antedate the bliss above.
+         This the divine Cecilia found,
+         And to her Maker's praise confined the sound.
+         When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,
+           The immortal powers incline their ear;
+         Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
+         While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;
+           And angels lean from heaven to hear.
+         Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
+           To bright Cecilia greater power is given;
+         His numbers raised a shade from hell,
+           Hers lift the soul to heaven.{16}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1708 at the suggestion of Sir Richard Steele;
+it was set to music by Maurice Greene, and in 1730 was performed at the
+public commemoration at Cambridge. Its model is Dryden's famous ode,
+"Alexander's Feast," of which Pope was a warm admirer (see page 159).
+Dr. Johnson says; "In his 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day' Pope is generally
+confessed to have miscarried; yet he has miscarried only as compared
+with Dryden, for he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is
+better chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the passions
+than fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains
+of real life; the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is
+read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs
+upon the ear, Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the odes want
+the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated
+recurrence of settled numbers. . . . If Pope's ode be particularly
+inspected, it will be found that the first stanza consists of sounds,
+well chosen, indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of
+hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and, perhaps, without
+much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, however, there
+are numbers, images, harmony, and vigor not unworthy the antagonist of
+Dryden. Had all been like this--but every part cannot be the best. The
+next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
+mythology; . . . we have all that can be performed by elegance of
+diction or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without
+better matter? The last stanza again refers to commonplaces. The
+conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be
+remarked that both end with the same fault--the comparison of each is
+literal on one side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do not always
+express their own thoughts. Pope, with all this labor in the praise of
+music, was ignorant of its principles and insensible of its effects."
+
+St. Cecilia, the Christian Polyhymnia and patron saint of sacred music,
+is said to have suffered martyrdom about the year 230. In Chaucer's
+"Seconde Nonnes Tale"--which is an almost literal translation of the
+"Legenda Aurea," written in the thirteenth century--it is related that,
+on account of Cecilia's spotless purity, an angel came down from heaven
+to be her guardian. Her husband, Valerian, was also the recipient of
+angelic favors, for
+
+     "This angel had of roses and lilie
+      Corones two, the which he bare in honde,
+      And first to Cecile, as I understonde,
+      He yaf that on, and after gan he take
+      That other to Valerian hire make."
+
+How and when Cecilia was first recognized as the patron saint of music
+does not appear. The legend only says, that
+
+         "While the organs maden melodie,
+     To God alone thus in hire hert song she;
+     'O Lord, my soule and eke my body gie
+     Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'"
+
+There is also a tradition in the church that St. Cecilia was the
+inventor of the organ. Dryden calls her "inventress of the vocal frame"
+(see page 164). The origin of this musical instrument is not known, but
+the first organs used in Italy are said to have been brought thither
+from Greece. Some of the Roman churches are known to have had them in
+use in the seventh century, but they were not common until several
+hundred years later. The festival of St. Cecilia occurs on the 22d of
+November.
+
+1. =ye Nine.= The nine Muses: (1) Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry; (2)
+Clio, the Muse of history; (3) Euterpe, the Muse of lyric poetry; (4)
+Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy; (5) Terpsichore, the Muse of choral
+dance and song; (6) Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry; (7) Polyhymnia,
+the Muse of the sublime hymn; (8) Urania, the Muse of astronomy; (9)
+Thalia, the Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. The custom of invoking
+the Muses, at the beginning of poems, is derived from Homer:
+
+     "Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse."
+                                                 --_Iliad_, I, 1.
+
+     "Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man
+      Who, having overthrown the sacred town
+      Of Ilium, wandered far," etc.
+                                               --_Odyssey_, I, 1.
+
+Milton invokes the
+
+          "heavenly Muse that on the secret top
+      Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
+      That shepherd," etc.
+                                         --_Paradise Lost_, I, 1.
+
+2. Observe how, in the sixteen lines following, the sound is made in
+some measure to be "an echo to the sense."
+
+3. =equal temper know.= Evenness of disposition acquire. The music of
+Timotheus had an opposite effect on Alexander. See "Alexander's Feast."
+
+4. =assuasive.= Moderating.
+
+5. =the Thracian raised his strain.= Orpheus was a Thracian, the son of
+Oeagrus and the Muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a lyre, and the Muses
+instructed him in its use; and so sweet was the music which he drew from
+it that the wild beasts were enchanted and the trees and rocks moved
+from their places to follow the sound. When Jason and his followers, the
+Argonauts, were unable to launch their ship Argo, Orpheus played his
+lyre, and the vessel glided into the sea, while her "kindred trees
+descended" from the slopes of the mountain (Pelion) and followed her
+into "the main."
+
+6. =demi-gods.= Half-gods; heroes. Among the Argonauts were Hercules,
+Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Peleus, Nestor, and others similarly
+renowned.
+
+7. =infernal bounds.= Boundaries of hell. The wife of Orpheus was a nymph
+named Eurydice. She having died from the bite of a serpent, the sweet
+musician followed her into the infernal regions. He begged of Pluto that
+his wife might return with him to the earth, but his prayer was granted
+only upon condition that he should not look back upon her until both had
+safely passed the gates between Hades and the upper world. The poet
+tells the rest of the story.
+
+=Phlegethon.= A river of hell in which flowed fire instead of water.
+
+8. See Song of Solomon viii. 6: "Love is strong as death."
+
+9. =shady forms.= Departed spirits were called "shades," because they were
+supposed to be perceptible sometimes to the sight but never to the
+touch. See "heroes' armed shades," below.
+
+10. =Sisyphus.= See note 18, page 147.
+
+=Ixion.= King of the Lapithæ. As a punishment for ingratitude to Zeus, his
+hands and feet were chained to a wheel which was always in motion.
+
+=Furies.= See note 20, page 167.
+
+11. =hell.= The powers of hell--or, as he explains below, Proserpine, the
+queen of the infernal regions. =Styx.= The principal river of hell, around
+which it flows seven--not nine--times.
+
+12. See Milton's "L'Allegro," 135:
+
+     "Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
+      Married to immortal verse, . . .
+      That Orpheus' self may heave his head
+      From golden slumber on a bed
+      Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear
+      Such strains as would have won the ear
+      Of Pluto to have quite set free
+      His half-regain'd Eurydice."
+
+13. Orpheus's grief for the loss of Eurydice caused him to treat with
+contempt the Thracian women among whom he dwelt, and they in revenge
+tore him to pieces, under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies.
+His head was given by the Hebrus to the sea, and finally carried to the
+island of Lesbos, where it was buried. See Milton's "Lycidas," 58:
+
+     "What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
+      The Muse herself for her enchanting son,
+      Whom universal nature did lament,
+      When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
+      His gory visage down the stream was sent,
+      Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?"
+
+See, also, "Paradise Lost," VII, 32:
+
+               "The barbarous dissonance
+      Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
+      Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
+      In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
+      To rapture, till the savage clamor drown'd
+      Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
+      Her son."
+
+14. =Rhodope.= A range of mountains in Thrace, sacred to Bacchus. =Hæmus=
+was another range extending from Rhodope, on the west, to the Black Sea,
+on the east.
+
+15. =Music.= Compare what Pope says of music with:
+
+     "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast."
+                              --_Congreve_, _The Mourning Bride_.
+
+     "O Music! sphere-descended maid,
+      Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!"
+                                     --_Collins_, _The Passions_.
+
+     "Soft is the music that would charm forever."
+                                       --_Wordsworth_, _Sonnets_.
+
+16. Compare these lines with the four which end Dryden's "Alexander's
+Feast."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALEXANDER POPE was born in London in 1688. He had some instruction at
+home, and was afterwards sent, first to a Roman Catholic seminary near
+Winchester, then to another in London. "This," he said, "was all the
+teaching I ever had, and God knows it extended a very little way. When I
+had done with my priests, I took to reading by myself, for which I had a
+very great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry: and in a few
+years I had dipped into a very great number of the English, Italian,
+Latin, and Greek poets." He was small of stature and deformed, and his
+ill health made him peevish, irritable, and selfish. Yet his rare
+intellectual abilities and the deserved success of his earlier poetry
+secured for him the friendship of many of the most influential men of
+the time. Bolingbroke declared that he never knew a man more tenderly
+devoted to his friends; and Warburton said, "He is as good a companion
+as poet, and, what is more, appears to be a good man."
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711; the "Rape of the
+Lock" in 1714; his translation of Homer's "Iliad" in 1715-18, and of the
+"Odyssey" in 1726; the "Dunciad" in 1728; the "Essay on Man" in 1732. A
+revised and enlarged version of the "Dunciad" was published in 1742. The
+latter part of Pope's life was spent at his country-seat of Twickenham,
+which he enlarged and beautified from the proceeds of his translation of
+Homer. He died in 1744.
+
+"Pope is our greatest master in didactic poetry," says Stopford Brooke,
+"not so much because of the worth of the thoughts as because of the
+masterly form in which they are put."
+
+"In two directions," says Mark Pattison, "in that of condensing and
+pointing his meaning, and in that of drawing the utmost harmony of sound
+out of the couplet, Pope carried versification far beyond the point at
+which it was when he took it up. The matter which he worked up into his
+verse has a permanent value, and is indeed one of the most precious
+heirlooms which the eighteenth century has bequeathed us."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rape of the Lock; The Dying Christian to his
+Soul; The Universal Prayer; Pastorals; Windsor Forest.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Stephen's _Hours in a
+Library_; De Quincey's _Literature of the Eighteenth Century_; Lowell's
+_My Study Window_; _Pope_ (English Men of Letters), by Leslie Stephen.
+
+
+
+
+The Seventeenth Century.
+
+
+"_The people of the seventeenth century were weary of liberty, weary of
+the unmitigated rage of the dramatists, cloyed with the roses and the
+spices and the kisses of the lyrists, tired of being carried over the
+universe and up and down the avenues of history at the freak of every
+irresponsible rhymester. Literature had been set open to all the breezes
+of heaven by the blustering and glittering Elizabethans, and in the
+hands of their less gifted successors it was fast declining into a mere
+Cave of the Winds. . . . We know the poets of the early Caroline period
+almost entirely by extracts, and their ardor, quaintness, and sudden
+flashes of inspiration give them a singular advantage in this form. The
+sustained elevation which had characterized Shakespeare and Spenser, and
+even in some degree several of the chief of their contemporaries, had
+passed away, but still the poets were most brilliant, most delectable in
+their purple patches. . . . As the last waves of the Renaissance died
+away, a deathly calm settled down upon the pools of thought. Man
+returned from the particular to the general, from romantic examples to
+those disquisitions on the norm which were thought to display a
+classical taste. The seer disappeared, and the artificer took his place.
+For a whole century the singer that only sang because he must, and as
+the linnets do, was entirely absent from English literature. He came
+back at the close of the eighteenth century, with Burns in Scotland, and
+with Blake in England._"--EDMUND GOSSE.
+
+"_At the same time, amid the classical coldness which then dried up
+English literature, and the social excess which then corrupted English
+morals . . . appeared a mighty and superb mind (Milton), prepared by
+logic and enthusiasm for eloquence and the epic style; the heir of a
+poetical age, the precursor of an austere age, holding his place
+between the epoch of unselfish dreaming and the epoch of practical
+action._"--TAINE.
+
+
+=Poets of the Seventeenth Century.=
+
+=Ben Jonson= (1573-1637). See biographical note, page 213.
+
+=William Drummond of Hawthornden= (1585-1649). Short poems; "Poems:
+Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
+Madrigals"; "Floures of Sion."
+
+=William Browne= (1588-1643). "Britannia's Pastorals"; "The Shepherd's
+Pipe"; "The Inner Temple Masque."
+
+=George Wither= (1588-1667). Short poems; "Collection of Emblems"; "Nature
+of Man"; "The Shepheard's Hunting"; "Fidelia."
+
+=Phineas Fletcher= (1582-1650). "The Locustes"; "The Purple Island."
+
+=Giles Fletcher= (1588-1623). "Christ's Victory and Triumph."
+
+=Thomas Carew= (1589-1639). Short poems; "Cælum Britannicum."
+
+=Francis Quarles= (1592-1644). "Divine Poems"; "Emblems, Divine and
+Moral."
+
+=Robert Herrick= (1594-1674). See biographical note, page 202.
+
+=Sir John Suckling= (1608-1642). Love poems.
+
+=Richard Lovelace= (1618-1658). Short poems; "Lucasta: Odes, Sonnets,
+Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Herbert of Cherbury= (1581-1648). Odes and short poems.
+
+=George Herbert= (1592-1634). "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private
+Ejaculations"; short poems.
+
+=George Sandys= (1577-1643). "Christ's Passion."
+
+=Richard Crashaw= (1615-1650). "Steps to the Altar."
+
+=Henry Vaughan= (1621-1695). "Silex Scintillans"; "The Mount of Olives."
+
+=Abraham Cowley= (1618-1667). "Poetical Blossomes"; "The Mistress."
+
+=Edmund Waller= (1605-1687). See biographical note, page 205.
+
+=Sir John Denham= (1615-1668). "Cooper's Hill."
+
+=Sir William Davenant= (1605-1668). "Gondibert"; "Madagascar and Other
+Poems."
+
+=John Milton= (1608-1674). See biographical note, page 195.
+
+=Andrew Marvell= (1621-1678). Lyric and satiric poems.
+
+=Samuel Butler= (1612-1680). "Hudibras."
+
+=Thomas Otway= (1651-1685). "The Poet's Complaint of his Muse"; "Windsor
+Castle."
+
+=John Dryden= (1631-1700). See biographical note, page 175.
+
+
+
+
+John Dryden.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC:
+
+AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+
+     'Twas at the royal feast,{1} for Persia won
+           By Philip's warlike son:
+         Aloft in awful state
+         The godlike hero sate
+           On his imperial throne:
+         His valiant peers were placed around;
+     Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound:{2}
+         (So should desert in arms be crowned.)
+       The lovely Thais,{3} by his side,
+       Sate like a blooming Eastern bride
+       In flower of youth and beauty's pride.
+           Happy, happy, happy pair!
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Happy, happy, happy pair!
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+       Timotheus,{4} placed on high
+         Amid the tuneful quire,
+         With flying fingers touched the lyre:
+       The trembling notes ascend the sky,
+                 And heavenly joys inspire.
+       The song began from Jove,{5}
+       Who left his blissful seats above,
+       (Such is the power of mighty love.)
+       A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
+       Sublime on radiant spires he rode.
+     The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,
+     A present deity,{6} they shout around;
+     A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:
+             With ravish'd ears
+             The monarch hears,
+             Assumes the god,
+             Affects to nod,{7}
+         And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                   With ravish'd ears
+                   The monarch hears,
+                   Assumes the god,
+                   Affects to nod,
+               And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+     The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung,
+         Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
+           The jolly god in triumph comes;
+           Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
+             Flush'd with a purple grace,
+             He shows his honest face:
+     Now give the hautboys{8} breath; he comes! he comes!
+         Bacchus, ever fair and young,
+           Drinking joys did first ordain;
+         Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+         Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+             Rich the treasure,
+             Sweet the pleasure;
+         Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+               Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+                   Rich the treasure,
+                   Sweet the pleasure;
+                   Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+         Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
+         Fought all his battles o'er again;
+     And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.{9}
+         The master saw the madness rise;
+         His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
+         And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,
+         Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.
+           He chose a mournful muse,
+           Soft pity to infuse:
+         He sung Darius{10} great and good,
+               By too severe a fate,
+             Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
+         Fallen from his high estate,
+           And welt'ring in his blood;
+         Deserted at his utmost need,
+         By those his former bounty fed:
+       On the bare earth expos'd he lies,{11}
+       With not a friend to close his eyes.{12}
+     With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
+     Revolving in his alter'd soul
+       The various turns of chance below;
+     And, now and then, a sigh he stole,{13}
+       And tears began to flow.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Revolving in his alter'd soul
+                 The various turns of chance below;
+               And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
+                 And tears began to flow.
+
+     The mighty master smil'd to see
+     That love was in the next degree:
+     'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
+     For pity melts the mind to love.{14}
+       Softly sweet, in Lydian{15} measures,
+       Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
+     War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
+     Honor, but an empty bubble;{16}
+       Never ending, still beginning,
+     Fighting still, and still destroying;
+       If the world be worth thy winning,
+     Think, oh think it worth enjoying!
+       Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
+       Take the good the gods provide thee.
+     The many{17} rend the air with loud applause;
+     So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.
+       The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+         Gaz'd on the fair
+         Who caus'd his care,
+       And sigh'd and look'd,{18} sigh'd and look'd,
+       Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+     At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+     The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                 The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+                   Gaz'd on the fair
+                   Who caus'd his care,
+                 And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
+                 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+               At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+               The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+     Now strike the golden lyre again;
+     A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
+     Break his bands of sleep{19} asunder,
+     And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
+           Hark, hark, the horrid sound
+             Has raised up his head!
+             As awaked from the dead,
+           And amaz'd he stares around.
+         Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries,
+           See the Furies{20} arise:
+           See the snakes that they rear,
+           How they hiss in their hair,
+         And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
+           Behold a ghastly band,
+           Each a torch in his hand!
+     Those are Grecian ghosts,{21} that in battle were slain,
+           And unburied remain
+           Inglorious on the plain:
+         Give the vengeance due
+         To the valiant crew.{22}
+     Behold how they toss their torches on high,
+     How they point to the Persian abodes,
+     And glittering temples of their hostile gods!
+     The princes applaud with a furious joy;
+     And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+         Thais led the way,{23}
+         To light him to his prey,
+     And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+                   Thais led the way,
+                   To light him to his prey,
+               And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+             Thus, long ago,
+         Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
+         While organs{24} yet were mute;
+         Timotheus to his breathing flute,
+           And sounding lyre,
+     Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
+       At last divine Cecilia came,
+       Inventress of the vocal frame;{25}
+     The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+         Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+         And added length to solemn sounds,
+     With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+         Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+           Or both divide the crown:
+         He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
+           She drew an angel down.{26}
+
+               _Grand Chorus._
+
+                   At last divine Cecilia came,
+                   Inventress of the vocal frame;
+               The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+                   Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+                   And added length to solemn sounds,
+               With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+                   Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+                     Or both divide the crown:
+                   He rais'd a mortal to the skies
+                     She drew an angel down.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This song was written in 1697. Lord Bolingbroke relates that, calling
+upon the poet one morning, Dryden said to him: "I have been up all
+night; my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for their
+Feast of St. Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which
+occurred to me that I could not leave it till I had completed it: here
+it is, finished at one sitting."
+
+The poem was first set to music by one Jeremiah Clarke, a steward of the
+Musical Society, whose members had solicited Dryden to write it. In 1736
+it was rearranged by the great composer Handel, and again presented at a
+public performance.
+
+M. Taine says, "His 'Alexander's Feast' is an admirable trumpet-blast,
+in which metre and sound impress upon the nerves the emotions of the
+mind, a master-piece of rapture and of art, which Victor Hugo alone has
+come up to."
+
+"As a piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or recited in
+alternate strophe and anti-strophe," says Hazlitt, "nothing can be
+better."
+
+"This ode is Dryden's greatest and best work."--_Macaulay._
+
+1. =royal feast.= About the year B.C. 331, Alexander the Great, having
+overthrown the Persian Empire, held a great feast at Persepolis in
+celebration of his victories. At the close of the revelries, instigated,
+it is said, by Thais, his Athenian mistress, he set fire with his own
+hand to the great palace of Persepolis; and a general massacre of the
+inhabitants ensued. The ruins of the city and palace are still to be
+seen in a beautiful valley watered by the river Araxes--now called
+Bendemir--not far from the border of the Carmanian Desert.
+
+2. =with roses and with myrtles.= At the banquets of the Greeks it was the
+custom of the guests to wear garlands of roses and myrtles.
+
+3. =Thais.= "Her name is best known from the story of her having
+stimulated the Conqueror, during a great festival at Persepolis, to set
+fire to the palace of the Persian kings; but this anecdote, immortalized
+as it has been by Dryden's famous ode, appears to rest on the sole
+authority of Cleitarchus, one of the least trustworthy of the historians
+of Alexander, and is in all probability a mere fable." After the death
+of Alexander, Thais became the wife of Ptolemy Lagus.
+
+4. =Timotheus.= A famous flute-player from Thebes. Another and more
+celebrated Timotheus, "the poet of the later Athenian dithyramb," was a
+native of Miletus and died about the time of Alexander's birth.
+
+5. Alexander claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon; and when he visited
+the temple of that god, in the Libyan Desert, he was received by the
+priests and honored as such. See Plutarch's _Life of Alexander_.
+
+6. =present deity.= See Psalm xlvi. 1.
+
+7. =affects to nod.= See Homer's "Iliad." I, 528-530: "Jove spake, and
+nodded his dark brow, and the ambrosial locks waved from his immortal
+head; and he made great Olympus quake."
+
+8. =hautboys.= Oboes. French _hautbois_. Wind instruments resembling the
+clarionet.
+
+=Bacchus.= Compare Shakespeare:
+
+     "Come, thou monarch of the vine,
+      Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne."
+                         --_Antony and Cleopatra_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+9. =thrice he slew the slain.= How could he slay the slain?
+
+10. =Darius.= At the time of this feast at Persepolis, Darius, the
+vanquished king of Persia, was still living, although a fugitive. In the
+following year Alexander pursued him into the Parthian Desert, where he
+was murdered by the satrap of Bactria. By order of Alexander, the body
+of the unfortunate king was sent to Persepolis, to be buried in the
+tombs of the kings.
+
+11. =expos'd he lies.= Dryden seems to have written this under the
+impression that Darius had been killed before the time of the great
+feast at Persepolis.
+
+12. =close his eyes.= Compare this with the lines from Pope ("Elegy on an
+Unfortunate Lady"):
+
+     "By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;
+      By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed."
+
+13. =a sigh he stole.= Sighed silently. His sighs when the result of pity
+were not very distinctly uttered. Compare Shakespeare:
+
+              "And then the lover,
+      Sighing like a furnace."
+                               --_As You Like It_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+And then read, in the next stanza, how Alexander sighed when moved by
+love.
+
+14. =pity melts the mind to love.= Compare:
+
+     "Pity swells the tide of love."
+                            --_Young's Night Thoughts_, III, 106.
+
+     "Pity's akin to love."
+                                  --_Southern's Oroonoko_, II, 1.
+
+15. =Lydian measures.= The people of Lydia were noted for the effeminacy
+of their manners. And Lydian music was peculiarly soft and voluptuous.
+
+     "And ever against eating cares,
+      Lap me in soft Lydian airs."
+                                     --_Milton's L'Allegro_, 135.
+
+     "And all the while sweet Musicke did divide
+      Her looser notes with Lydian harmony."
+                             --_Spenser's Faerie Queene_, III, 1.
+
+Observe the change in metre in the ten lines beginning "Softly sweet."
+What does the word _sweet_ modify?
+
+16. =Honor, but an empty bubble.= So Shakespeare:
+
+     "Honor is a mere scutcheon."
+                                   --_1 Henry IV._, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+17. =The many.= The multitude.
+
+18. =sigh'd and look'd.= He no longer _steals_ a sigh, as he did when
+pitying Darius. See note 13, above.
+
+19. =Break his bands of sleep.= The music now is very different from the
+Lydian measures which "soothed his soul to pleasures." "Suidas," says
+Dr. Warton, "mentions the Orthian style in music, in which Timotheus is
+said to have played to Alexander; and one Antigenidas inflamed this
+prince still more by striking into what were called Harmatian measures.
+Quintus Curtius gives a minute description of the burning of the palace
+at Persepolis, when Alexander was accompanied by Thais. But it does not
+appear in the accurate Arrian that Thais had any share in this
+transaction. Arrian, but more so Aristobulus, endeavored to exculpate
+Alexander from the charge of frequent ebriety; but Menander plainly
+mentions the drunkenness of Alexander as proverbial."
+
+20. =Furies.= The Eumenides, or avengers of evil. They are variously
+represented by the poets. Æschylus describes them as having black
+bodies, hair composed of twining snakes, and eyes dripping with blood.
+
+21. =Grecian ghosts.= The spirits of the Greek warriors in Alexander's
+army who had been slain by the Persians.
+
+22. =crew.= This word was formerly used to designate any associated
+multitude or assemblage of persons. It is now restricted to a ship's
+company, except when occasionally used in a bad sense. From A.-S.
+_cread_ or _cruth_, a crowd.
+
+23. =Thais led the way, etc.= See note 19, above. Neither Thais nor Helen
+actually fired any city. What the poet means to say is that, as Helen
+was the cause of the destruction of Troy, so Thais instigated the
+burning of Persepolis.
+
+24. =organs.= The word _organ_ originally denoted but a single pipe, and
+hence the older English writers, when referring to the complete
+instrument, generally used the word in the plural number. "Father
+Schmidt and other famous organ-builders flourished in the latter part of
+the seventeenth century. The organ in Temple Church, London, was built
+by Schmidt in Charles II.'s time."
+
+25. =vocal frame.= The organ--the grand instrument of church music--so
+perfect that it may literally be said to speak. See introductory note to
+Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," page 153.
+
+26. St. Cecilia, according to the story in the "Golden Legend," was
+under the immediate protection of an angel. But it was not her sweet
+playing, but her spotless purity, that brought the angel to earth, not
+to listen, but to be "a heavenly guard."
+
+Compare these last four lines with those at the close of Pope's Ode.
+
+Dr. Warton says of "Alexander's Feast": "If Dryden had never written
+anything but this ode, his name would have been immortal, as would that
+of Gray, if he had never written anything but his 'Bard.' It is
+difficult to find new terms to express our admiration of the variety,
+richness, and melody of its numbers; the force, beauty, and distinctness
+of its images; the succession of so many different passions and
+feelings; and the matchless perspicuity of its diction. No particle of
+it can be wished away, but the epigrammatic turn of the four concluding
+lines."
+
+Hallam says: "This ode has a few lines mingled with a far greater number
+ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit
+which Dryden hardly ever wanted, but it is too faulty for high praise.
+It used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the
+language. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level
+of a common drinking song. It has the defects as well as the merits of
+that poetry which is written for musical accompaniment."
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE OF LONDON.
+
+[FROM "ANNUS MIRABILIS."]
+
+
+     Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,{1}
+       Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
+     From thence did soon to open streets aspire,
+       And straight to palaces and temples spread.
+
+     The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain,
+       And luxury, more late, asleep were laid;
+     All was the Night's, and in her silent reign
+       No sound the rest of Nature did invade.
+
+     In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,{2}
+       Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;
+     And first few scattering sparks about were blown,
+       Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
+
+     Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
+       And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
+     Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,
+       Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.
+
+     Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,
+       Too great for prison which he breaks with gold,
+     Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
+       And dares the world to tax him with the old,
+
+     So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,
+       And makes small outlets into open air;
+     There the fierce winds his tender force assail,
+       And beat him downward to his first repair.
+
+     The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld
+       His flames from burning but to blow them more:
+     And, every fresh attempt, he is repell'd
+       With faint denials, weaker than before.
+
+     And now, no longer letted{3} of his prey,
+       He leaps up at it with enraged desire,
+     O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,
+       And nods at every house his threatening fire.
+
+     The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge{4} descend,
+       With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;
+     About the fire into a dance they bend,
+       And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.
+
+     Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,
+       Above the palace of our slumbering King;
+     He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,
+       And drooping oft look'd back upon the wing.
+
+     At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze
+       Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
+     And long it was ere he the rest could raise,
+       Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.
+
+     The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,
+       Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire;
+     And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late
+       For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
+
+     Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;
+       Now murmuring noises rise in every street;
+     The more remote run stumbling with their fear,
+       And in the dark men justle as they meet.
+
+     So weary bees in little cells repose;
+       But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive,
+     An humming through their waxen city grows,
+       And out upon each other's wings they drive.{5}
+
+     Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day;
+       Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire;
+     Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,
+       And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.
+
+     In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind
+       His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;
+     The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,
+       And forward with a wanton fury went.
+
+     A key{6} of fire ran all along the shore,
+       And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;
+     The waken'd tides began again to roar,
+       And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.
+
+     Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
+       But fear'd the fate of Simois{7} would return;
+     Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,
+       And shrank his waters back into his urn.
+
+     The fire meantime walks in a broader gross;{8}
+       To either hand his wings he opens wide;
+     He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,
+       And plays his longing flames on the other side.
+
+     At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;
+       Now with long necks from side to side they feed;
+     At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,
+       And a new colony of flames succeed.
+
+     To every nobler portion of the town
+       The curling billows roll their restless tide;
+     In parties now they straggle up and down,
+       As armies unopposed for prey divide.
+
+     One mighty squadron, with a sidewind sped,
+       Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,
+     By powerful charms of gold and silver led
+       The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.
+
+     Another backward to the Tower would go,
+       And slowly eats his way against the wind;
+     But the main body of the marching foe
+       Against the imperial palace is design'd.
+
+     Now day appears; and with the day the King,
+       Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;
+     Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,
+       And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.
+
+     Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke
+       With gloomy pillars cover all the place;
+     Whose little intervals of night are broke
+       By sparks that drive against his sacred face.
+
+     More than his guards his sorrows made him known,
+       And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower;
+     The wretched in his grief forgot their own;
+       So much the pity of a king has power.
+
+     He wept the flames of what he lov'd so well,
+       And what so well had merited his love;
+     For never prince in grace did more excel,
+       Or royal city more in duty strove.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This selection from Dryden's long and very tedious poem, "Annus
+Mirabilis, the year of Wonders, 1666," is given here as a specimen of
+that kind of mechanical versification so popular in the latter half of
+the seventeenth century. "That part of my poem which describes the
+Fire," says Dryden, "I owe first to the piety and fatherly affection of
+our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the
+courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both of which were so
+conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve.
+And I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in
+alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of
+greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in
+use amongst us." This opinion, however, was certainly not long
+maintained by the poet, for he never afterward practised that form of
+versification which he has here praised.
+
+1. =this prodigious fire.= A half sheet published immediately after the
+Great Fire contains this account of the catastrophe which Dryden
+describes in his verses:
+
+"On Sunday, the second of September, this present year 1666, about one
+o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in
+_Pudding-lane_ near _New Fish-street_; which, falling out in a part of
+the city so close built with wooden houses . . . in a short time became
+too big to be mastered by any engines or working near it. . . . It
+continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it consumed
+houses and churches all the way to _St. Dunstan's Church_, in
+_Fleet-street_; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened;
+and that night, by the vigilancy, industry, and indefatigable pains of
+his Majesty and his Royal Highness, calling upon all people, and
+encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the
+fire in Fleet-street, etc. But on Wednesday night it suddenly broke out
+afresh in the _Inner Temple_. His Royal Highness in person fortunately
+watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and
+seasonable commands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said
+buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished."
+
+2. =source unknown.= "It was ascribed by the rage of the people either to
+the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription
+on the monument, intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion, was
+erased by James II., but restored at the Revolution."--_Warton._
+
+3. =letted.= Hindered. This use of the word _let_ is now obsolete, except
+in the phrase, "Without let or hindrance." It was frequently employed
+by the older writers.
+
+     "What lets but one may enter?"--_Shakespeare._
+
+4. =the Bridge.= The heads of traitors were displayed on London Bridge.
+"How inferior is this passage," says Dr. Dodd, "to Milton's animated
+description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however,
+seems to have here had in mind." See "Ode on the Nativity," stanza
+xxiii.
+
+5. The simile in this stanza was doubtless intended to be very
+effective.
+
+6. =key.= Quay. A bank, or ledge.
+
+7. =Simois.= See Homer's "Iliad," Bk. XXI.
+
+8. =gross.= Bulk.
+
+
+
+
+REASON AND RELIGION.
+
+[FROM "RELIGIO LAICI."]
+
+
+     Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
+     To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
+     Is Reason to the soul: and as on high,
+     Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
+     Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
+     Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
+     But guide us upward to a better day.
+     And as those nightly tapers disappear,
+     When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
+     So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
+     So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
+     Some few whose light shone brighter, have been led
+     From cause to cause, to nature's secret head;
+     And found that one first principle must be,
+     But what, or who, that Universal HE;
+     Whether some soul incompassing this ball,
+     Unmade, unmov'd, yet making, moving all,
+     Or various atoms' interfering dance
+     Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance,
+     Or this great All was from eternity--
+     Not even the Stagirite himself could see,
+     And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;
+     As blindly groped they for a future state,
+     As rashly judged of providence and fate.
+     In this wild maze their vain endeavors end:
+     How can the less the greater comprehend?
+     Or finite Reason reach Infinity?
+     For what could fathom God were more than He.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN DRYDEN was born on the 9th of August, 1631, at Aldwincle All
+Saints, near Oundle in Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster
+School, under the famous Dr. Busby, and at Trinity College, Cambridge.
+At the age of twenty-six he went up to London with the intention of
+devoting himself to literature and politics. During the brief remaining
+years of the Commonwealth (1657-1660) he was nominally a friend to the
+Puritan party; and one of the first poems written by him was a series of
+"Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell." At the Restoration he
+at once espoused the cause of the Royalists; and his recent panegyric on
+the Protector did not prevent him from writing a poem, "Astræa Redux,"
+in honor of the return of Charles the Second. In 1663 he married the
+Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, a Royalist
+nobleman. For several years he devoted himself chiefly to the writing of
+plays,--comedies, tragedies, and tragi-comedies. The comedies he wrote
+in prose; the earliest tragedies in blank verse, followed by several in
+rhyme, and, after these, others in blank verse. In 1670 he was appointed
+Poet-Laureate. In 1681, when nearly fifty years old, by the publication
+of "Absalom and Achitophel," he suddenly became famous as a satirical
+poet. He soon afterwards wrote "The Medal," another satire, directed
+against the Earl of Shaftesbury, and "Mac Flecknoe," aimed at Shadwell,
+the chief poet of the Opposition. At about the same time he produced
+"Religio Laici," a didactic poem explaining his religious opinions and
+defending the Church of England against dissenters, atheists, and
+Catholics. Not long after the accession of James II., Dryden, true to
+his policy of being always on the side of the ruling party, became a
+Catholic, and wrote "The Hind and the Panther," in which he eulogized
+many things that, in the former poem, he had ridiculed. His political
+career ended with the overthrow of James II., in 1688; but his literary
+activity continued unabated. The last years of his life were occupied in
+translating the works of Persius and Juvenal and the Æneid of Virgil. In
+1697 he wrote "Alexander's Feast"; and his "modernizations" of some of
+Chaucer's poems appeared in 1700, the year of his death.
+
+"If there is grandeur in the pomp of kings and the march of hosts," says
+A. W. Ward, "in the 'trumpet's loud clangor' and in tapestries and
+carpetings of velvet and gold, Dryden is to be ranked with the grandest
+of English poets. The irresistible impetus of an invective which never
+falls short or flat, and the savor of a satire which never seems dull or
+stale, give him an undisputed place among the most glorious of English
+wits."
+
+"His descriptive power was of the highest," says Hales. "Our literature
+has in it no more vigorous portrait-gallery than that he has bequeathed
+it. His power of expression is beyond praise. There is always a singular
+_fitness_ in his language: he uses always the right word. He is one of
+our greatest masters of metre: metre was, in fact, no restraint to him,
+but rather it seems to have given him freedom. It has been observed that
+he argues better in verse than in prose; verse was the natural costume
+of his thoughts."
+
+Professor Masson says: "Not only is Dryden the largest figure in one era
+of our literature: he is a very considerable figure also in our
+literature as a whole. Of all that he wrote, however, there is but a
+comparatively small portion that has won for itself a permanent place in
+our literature."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Absalom and Achitophel; Mac Flecknoe; Religio
+Laici; Threnodia Augustalis.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_;
+Lowell's _Among My Books_; Macaulay's _Essay on John Dryden_; Taine's
+_English Literature_; Masson's _Three Devils and Other Essays_;
+Thackeray's _English Humorists_.
+
+
+
+
+John Milton.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+
+I.
+
+     This is the month, and this the happy morn,
+     Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
+     Of wedded Maid and Virgin mother born,
+     Our great redemption from above did bring:
+     For so the holy Sages once did sing:
+       That he our deadly forfeit should release,{1}
+     And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
+
+
+II.
+
+     The glorious form, that light unsufferable,
+     And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,
+     Wherewith he wont{2} at Heav'ns high council-table
+     To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
+     He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
+       Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
+     And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.{3}
+
+
+III.
+
+     Say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein
+     Afford a present to the Infant God?
+     Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein
+     To welcome him to this his new abode
+     Now while the Heav'n by the suns team untrod
+       Hath took no print of the approaching light,
+     And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
+
+
+IV.
+
+     See how from far upon the eastern rode
+     The star-led Wisards{4} haste with odours sweet;
+     O run, prevent{5} them with thy humble ode,
+     And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
+     Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,
+       And join thy voice unto the angel quire,{6}
+     From out his secret altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
+
+
+
+
+THE HYMN.
+
+
+I.
+
+         It was the winter wilde
+         While the Heav'n-born childe
+     All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
+         Nature in aw of him
+         Had doff't her gaudy trim,
+     With her great Master so to sympathize:
+         It was no season then for her
+         To wanton with the sun her lusty paramour.{7}
+
+
+II.
+
+         Onely with speeches fair
+         She woo's the gentle air
+     To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,
+         And on her naked shame,
+         Pollute with sinfull blame,
+     The saintly veil of maiden{8} white to throw:
+         Confounded that her Makers eyes
+         Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
+
+
+III.
+
+         But he, her fears to cease,
+         Sent down the meek-eyed Peace,
+     She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
+         Down through the turning sphear,{9}
+         His ready harbinger,{10}
+     With turtle{11} wing the amorous clouds dividing,
+         And, waving wide her mirtle wand,
+         She strikes a universall peace{12} through sea and land.
+
+
+IV.
+
+         No war, or battails sound,
+         Was heard the world around;
+     The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+         The hooked chariot{13} stood
+         Unstain'd with hostile blood;
+     The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
+         And kings sate still with awfull eye,{14}
+         As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+
+V.
+
+         But peacefull was the night
+         Wherein the Prince of Light
+     His raign of peace upon the earth began;
+         The windes, with wonder whist,{15}
+         Smoothly the waters kist,
+     Whispering new joyes to the milde ocean,
+         Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+         While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
+
+
+VI.
+
+         The stars, with deep amaze,
+         Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,
+     Bending one way their precious influence,{16}
+         And will not take their flight
+         For{17} all the morning light
+     Or Lucifer{18} that often warn'd them thence;
+         But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
+         Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         And, though the shady Gloom
+         Had given day her room,
+     The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,
+         And hid his head for shame,
+         As his inferiour flame
+     The new-enlightn'd world no more should need;
+         He saw a greater sun appear
+         Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree{19} could bear.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+         The shepherds on the lawn{20}
+         Or ere{21} the point of dawn
+     Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;
+         Full little thought they than
+         That the mighty Pan{22}
+     Was kindly com to live with them below;
+         Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
+         Was all that did their silly{23} thoughts so busie keep.
+
+
+IX.
+
+         When such musick sweet
+         Their hearts and ears did greet
+     As never was by mortall finger strook,{24}
+         Divinely warbled voice
+         Answering the stringed noise{25}
+     As all their souls in blissfull rapture took;
+         The air, such pleasure loth to lose,
+         With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.{26}
+
+
+X.
+
+         Nature that heard such sound
+         Beneath the hollow round{27}
+     Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling,
+         Now was almost won
+         To think her part was don,
+     And that her raign had here its{28} last fulfilling;
+         She knew such harmony alone
+         Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
+
+
+XI.
+
+         At last surrounds their sight
+         A globe of circular light,
+     That with long beams the shame-fac't Night array'd;
+         The helmed Cherubim,{29}
+         The sworded Seraphim
+     Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaied,
+         Harping in loud and solemn quire
+         With unexpressive{30} notes to Heav'n's new-born Heir.
+
+
+XII.
+
+         Such musick (as 'tis said)
+         Before was never made
+     But when of old the sons of Morning sung,{31}
+         While the Creator great
+         His constellation set,
+     And the well-ballanc't world on hinges{32} hung,
+         And cast the dark foundations deep,
+         And bid the weltring{33} waves their oozy channel keep.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+         Ring out, ye crystall sphears;{34}
+         Once bless our humane ears
+     (If ye have power to touch our senses so),
+         And let your silver chime
+         Move in melodious time,
+     And let the base of Heav'ns deep organ blow,
+         And with your ninefold harmony
+         Make up full consort{35} to th' angelike symphony.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+         For, if such holy song
+         Enwrap our fancy long,
+     Time will run back and fetch the age of Gold;{36}
+         And speckl'd Vanity
+         Will sicken soon and die,
+     And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;{37}
+         And Hell itself will pass away,
+         And leave her{38} dolorous mansions to the peering day.
+
+
+XV.
+
+         Yea, Truth and Justice then
+         Will down return to men,
+     Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+         Mercy will set between,
+         Thron'd in celestiall sheen,
+     With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing;
+         And Heav'n, as at som festivall,
+         Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.{39}
+
+
+XVI.
+
+         But wisest Fate sayes no;
+         This must not yet be so;
+     The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
+         That on the bitter cross{40}
+         Must redeem our loss,
+     So both himself and us to glorifie;
+         Yet first to those ychain'd{41} in sleep
+         The wakefull trump{42} of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+
+XVII.
+
+         With such a horrid clang
+         As on Mount Sinai rang,{43}
+     While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake;
+         The aged Earth, agast,
+         With terrour of that blast,
+     Shall from the surface to the center shake;
+         When at the worlds last session{44}
+         The dreadfull Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+         And then at last our bliss
+         Full and perfect is,
+     But now begins; for from this happy day,
+         Th' old Dragon{45} under ground,
+         In straiter limits bound,
+     Not half so far casts his usurped sway;
+         And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
+         Swindges{46} the scaly horrour of his foulded tail.
+
+
+XIX.
+
+         The oracles are dumm;{47}
+         No voice or hideous humm
+     Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
+         Apollo from his shrine
+         Can no more divine,
+     With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos{48} leaving.
+         No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
+         Inspires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+
+XX.
+
+         The lonely mountains o'er
+         And the resounding shore
+     A voice of weeping{49} heard and loud lament;
+         From haunted spring and dale
+         Edged with poplar pale
+     The parting{50} Genius is with sighing sent;
+         With floure-inwov'n tresses torn
+         The nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+
+XXI.
+
+         In consecrated earth,
+         And on the holy hearth{51}
+     The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint
+         In urns and altars round,
+         A drear and dying sound
+     Affrights the Flamins{52} at their service quaint
+         And the chill marble seems to sweat,
+         While each peculiar power forgoes{53} his wonted seat.
+
+
+XXII.
+
+         Peor and Baälim{54}
+         Forsake their temples dim,
+     With that twise batter'd god{55} of Palestine;
+         And mooned Ashtaroth,
+         Heav'ns queen and mother both,
+     Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine;
+         The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;
+         In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn;{56}
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+         And sullen Moloch, fled,
+         Hath left in shadows dred{57}
+     His burning idol all of blackest hue;
+         In vain with cymbals ring
+         They call the grisly{58} King
+     In dismall dance about the furnace blue;
+         The brutish{59} gods of Nile as fast,
+         Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis last.
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+         Nor is Osiris seen
+         In Memphian grove or green
+     Trampling the unshowr'd grass{60} with lowings loud,
+         Nor can he be at rest
+         Within his sacred chest;
+     Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;
+         In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
+         The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.
+
+
+XXV.
+
+         He feels from Judas land
+         The dredded Infants hand;
+     The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;{61}
+         Nor all the gods beside
+         Longer dare abide,
+     Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
+         Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
+         Can in his swaddling bands controul the damned crew.
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+         So, when the Sun in bed,{62}
+         Curtain'd with cloudy red
+     Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
+         The flocking shadows pale
+         Troop to th' infernal jail;
+     Each fetter'd ghost slips to his severall grave;
+         And the yellow-skirted Fayes
+         Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+         But see the Virgin blest
+         Hath laid her Babe to rest;
+     Time is our tedious song should here have ending;
+         Heav'ns youngest teemed{63} star
+         Hath fixt her polish'd car,
+     Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
+         And all about the courtly stable
+         Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.{64}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was begun by Milton on Christmas day, 1629. He had then just
+completed his twenty-first year, and was still an undergraduate at
+Christ's College, Cambridge. From certain fragments and other evidence,
+it is believed that he contemplated writing a series of poems on great
+Christian events in a similar way. This is the first poem of importance
+which he wrote. Hallam speaks of it as perhaps the finest lyric of its
+kind in the English language. "A grandeur, a simplicity, a breadth of
+manner, an imagination at once elevated and restrained by the subject,
+reign throughout it. If Pindar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be
+hard to name any other ode so truly Pindaric; but more has naturally
+been derived from the Scriptures."
+
+1. =our deadly forfeit should release.= Should remit the penalty of death
+pronounced against us. Shakespeare has a similar use of the word
+"forfeit."
+
+     "Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal
+      Remit thy other forfeits."
+                           --_Measure for Measure_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+2. =wont.= The past tense of the A.-S. verb _wunian_, to persist, to
+continue, to be accustomed. Now used only in connection with some form
+of the auxiliary verb _be_.
+
+3. Explain the meaning of each word in this line, and of the whole line.
+The next two stanzas comprise an invocation to the Muse of Poetry. See
+note 1, page 153.
+
+4. =Wisards.= Wizards. Wise men. The word was originally used in this
+sense, and not with the depreciatory meaning of "magician," as at
+present. Spenser says:
+
+     "Therefore the antique wizards well invented
+      That Venus of the fomy sea was bred,"
+
+meaning by "antique wizards" ancient philosophers.
+
+5. =prevent.= Go before; the original meaning of the word, from Lat.
+_præ_, before, and _venio_, to go or come.
+
+     "I prevented the dawning of the morning."--_Psalm_ cxix. 147.
+
+     "I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning, for I will
+     prevent the sun rising."--_Izaak Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+6. =angel quire.= "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
+the heavenly host praising God."--_Luke_ ii, 13.
+
+7. =paramour.= See note 9, page 80.
+
+8. =maiden.= Pure, innocent, unpolluted. Compare
+
+     "When I am dead, strew me o'er
+      With maiden flowers."
+                    --_Shakespeare_, _Henry VIII_, Act iv, sc. 2.
+
+9. =turning sphear.= The Ptolemaic system of astronomy taught that the
+earth was the centre of the universe, and that all the heavenly bodies
+revolved about it, being fixed in a complicated framework, or series of
+hollow crystalline spheres moving one within the other. The "turning
+sphear" is here this entire system of revolving spheres. See note 34,
+below.
+
+10. =harbinger.= One who provides a resting-place for a superior person.
+It was the duty of the king's harbinger, when the court removed from one
+place to another, to provide lodgings for the king's retinue. Derived
+from _harbor_, _harborage_. The word "harbor" is from A.-S. _here_,
+army, and _beorg_, a refuge. Others derive the word from _har_, a
+message, and _bringer_--hence, one who brings a message, a herald.
+
+Parkes's _Topography of Hampstead_, 1818, contains the following:
+
+"The office of harbinger still exists in the Royal Household, the
+nominal duty of the officer being to ride one stage onward before the
+king on his progress, to provide lodging and provision for the court."
+
+The last knight-harbinger was Sir Henry Rycroft (appointed in 1816, died
+October, 1846, aged eighty). The office became extinct at his death.
+
+11. =turtle.= Commonly _turtle-dove_. For history of the word as now
+applied to the tortoise, see Worcester's Dictionary.
+
+12. =universall peace.= About the time of the birth of Christ there was
+peace throughout the Roman Empire, and the temple of Janus was shut.
+
+13. =hooked chariot.= The war-chariot armed with scythes, a Celtic
+invention adopted by the Romans.
+
+14. =awfull eye.= We would say, "awe-filled eyes."
+
+=sovran.= Old French _souverain_. Some derive it from Lat. _supra_, above,
+and _regno_, to reign.
+
+15. =whist.= Hushed. This word, now used as a sort of interjection
+commanding silence, seems to have had in earlier English more of a
+verbal meaning, as Spenser in "The Faerie Queene," VII, vii, 59:
+
+     "So was the Titaness put downe and whist."
+
+It also meant _to keep silent_, as in Surrey's "Virgil":
+
+     "They whisted all, with fixed face intent."
+
+A game of cards in which the players are supposed to keep silent is
+called whist.
+
+=birds of calm.= Halcyons. See note 1, page 78.
+
+16. =influence.= From Lat. _in_, into, and _fluo_, to flow. This word,
+until a comparatively modern date, was always used with respect to the
+supposed mysterious rays or aspects flowing from the stars to the earth,
+and thus having a strange power over the fortunes of men. "Canst thou
+bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades?"--_Job_ xxviii. 31.
+
+     "Happy constellations on that hour
+      Shed their selectest influences."
+                                    --_Paradise Lost_, VIII, 512.
+
+17. =For.= Notwithstanding.
+
+18. =Lucifer.= The morning star. The idea of Lucifer appearing to warn the
+stars of the approach of the sun is a happy figure. See note 7, page 80.
+
+19. =axle-tree.= Axis. _Tree_ in O. E. is used to signify beam. We still
+have _single-tree_, _double-tree_, _whiffle-tree_, etc. Compare "Comus,"
+95:
+
+     "The gilded car of day
+      His glowing axle doth allay."
+
+20. =lawn.= Used in its original sense of a pasture, or open, grassy
+space. Formerly _laund_. Similarly we have _lane_, an open passage
+between houses or fields.
+
+21. =Or ere.= _Or_ is here used in its old sense, meaning _before_, from
+A.-S. _ær_. _Ere_ = e'er, ever. Compare Ecclesiastes xii. 6: "Or ever
+the silver cord be loosed." Also "King Lear," Act ii, sc. 4:
+
+                       "But this heart
+      Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
+      Or ere I'll weep."
+
+22. =Pan.= See note, page 72. The application of the name _Pan_ to Christ
+is evidently derived from Spenser. See "Shepheards Calendar," July:
+
+     "And such, I ween, the brethren were
+        That came from Canaän,
+      The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere
+        The flocks of mightie Pan."
+
+In the Glosse to the Calendar for May it is said that "Great Pan is
+Christ, the very God of all shepheards, which calleth himselfe the great
+and good shepheard. The name is most rightly (methinks) applied to him;
+for Pan signifieth all, or omnipotent, which is only the Lord Iesus. And
+by that name (as I remember) he is called of Eusebius in his fifth
+booke, _De Preparat. Evange._"
+
+23. =silly.= From A.-S. _saelig_, blessed, happy. Spenser uses the word in
+the sense of innocent, as in "Faerie Queene," III, viii, 27:
+
+     "The silly virgin strove him to withstand."
+
+Chaucer, in the "Reves Tale," uses it in the more modern sense of
+simple, or foolish:
+
+     "These sely clerkes han ful fast yronne."
+
+But in the "Legend of Good Women" it has another meaning:
+
+     "O sely woman, full of innocence."
+
+The meaning of this word has completely changed.
+
+24. =strook.= Caused to sound as on a stringed instrument. Compare Dryden
+in "Alexander's Feast":
+
+     "Now strike the golden lyre again."
+
+25. =noise.= A company of musicians under a leader. Used in this sense by
+both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+26. =close.= Cadence. See Dryden, "Fables":
+
+     "At every _close_ she made, th' attending throng
+      Replied, and bore the burden of the song."
+
+27. =hollow round.= The sphere in which the moon has its motion. See notes
+9 and 34.
+
+=Cynthia.= The moon. In the ancient mythology applied to Artemis, from
+Mount Cynthus in the island of Delos, her birthplace.
+
+28. =its.= In all his poetry, Milton uses this word only three times. The
+other examples are in "Paradise Lost," I, 254, and IV, 814. This
+possessive form of the pronoun it was never used until the time of
+Shakespeare, who employs it five times in "A Winter's Tale," and once in
+"Measure for Measure"; it does not occur anywhere in the authorized
+version of the Bible.
+
+29. Why are the Cherubim "helmed," while the Seraphim are "sworded"?
+Addison says, "Some of the rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set
+of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love
+most." Observe that the plural of cherub or of seraph may be formed in
+three ways: viz. cherubs, cherubim, cherubims; seraphs, seraphim,
+seraphims.
+
+30. =unexpressive.= Inexpressible. See Shakespeare, "As You Like It":
+
+     "The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she."
+
+Also Milton, "Lycidas," 176:
+
+     "And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song."
+
+31. =the sons of Morning sung.= See Job xxxviii. 4-7, the oldest reference
+to the "music of the spheres." See note 34, below.
+
+32. =hinges.= Literally, a hinge is anything for hanging something upon.
+From A.-S. _hangian_.
+
+33. =weltring.= Rolling, wallowing. See "Lycidas," 13.
+
+34. =Ring out.= An allusion to the music of the spheres. See note 27,
+above. The theory of Pythagoras was that the distances between the
+heavenly bodies were determined by the laws of musical concord. "These
+orbs in their motion could not but produce a certain sound or note,
+depending upon their distances and velocities; and as these were
+regulated by harmonic laws, they necessarily formed as a whole a
+complete musical scale." "In the whorl of the distaff of necessity there
+are eight concentric whorls. These whorls represent respectively the sun
+and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars. On each whorl sits a
+siren singing. Their eight tones make one exquisite harmony." Milton
+added a ninth whorl,--"that swift nocturnal and diurnal rhomb,"--and
+then spoke of the "ninefold harmony," as just below. This was a favorite
+idea with the poets.
+
+     "Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,
+      Listening the lordly music flowing from
+      The illimitable years."
+                                   --_Tennyson_, _Ode to Memory_.
+
+     "The music of the spheres! list, my Mariana!"
+                       --_Shakespeare_, _Pericles_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
+      But in his motion like an angel sings
+      Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims."
+             --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears,
+      And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,
+      How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
+      The whispering zephyr and the purling rill!"
+                                     --_Pope_, _Essay on Man_, I.
+
+     "Her voice, the music of the spheres,
+      So loud, it deafens mortals' ears,
+      As wise philosophers have thought,
+      And that's the cause we hear it not."
+                               --_Butler's Hudibras_, II, i, 617.
+
+See, also, Montaigne, _Essays_, I, xxii; Sir Thomas Browne's _Religio
+Medici_, II, 9; Plato's _Republic_, VI; Dryden's "Ode to Mrs. Anne
+Killigrew," etc.
+
+35. =consort.= Accompaniment. This word, so written until Milton's time,
+has now given place to _concert_, whenever used as here.
+
+36. =age of Gold.= The fabled primeval age of universal happiness.
+
+     "A blisful lyfe, a peseable, and so swete,
+      Ledde the peplis in the former age."--_Chaucer._
+
+37. =mould.= Matter, substance. The word is used in the old Romances to
+denote the earth itself. Milton elsewhere says:
+
+     "Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
+      Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?"
+
+38. =her.= Observe what has already been said (note 28, above) about the
+pronoun _its_. _Hell_, in the Anglo-Saxon language, is feminine. But,
+just above, observe the expression _it self_. See, in the last line of
+stanza xv, the pronoun _her_ with _heaven_ as its antecedent. _Heofon_,
+in the Anglo-Saxon, is also feminine.
+
+39. This stanza is a fine example of word-painting. What idea is
+conveyed to your mind by the expressions, "orb'd in a rainbow," "like
+glories wearing," "thron'd in celestiall sheen," "the tissued clouds
+down stearing," etc.? What kind of glories will Mercy wear? Where will
+she sit? How will she be enthroned? What are _radiant_ feet? Why are
+Mercy's feet radiant? Does she steer the tissued clouds "with radiant
+feet," or does she steer herself down the tissued clouds? Why will the
+opening of Heaven's high palace wall be "as at some festivall"?
+
+40. =bitter cross.= Compare Shakespeare, "1 Henry IV," Act i, sc. 1, 27:
+
+                             "Those blessed feet
+      Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
+      For our advantage, on the bitter cross."
+
+41. =ychain'd.= The _y_ is a corruption of the prefix _ge_, anciently used
+in connection with the past participle, and still retained in many
+German words. Often used by Chaucer and Spenser, as in yblessed,
+yburied, ybrent, yfonden, ygeten, yclad, yfraught, etc.
+
+42. =trump.= "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
+with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead
+in Christ shall rise first."--_1 Thessalonians_ iv. 16.
+
+=wakefull.= Awakening.
+
+43. =rang.= See Exodus xix.
+
+44. =session.= Assize. Both words were originally from the same root, Lat.
+_sedeo_, _sessum_.
+
+=spread.= Prepare, make ready. A similar use of the word survives in the
+idiom "to spread the table."
+
+45. =Dragon.= See Revelation xii. 9.
+
+46. =Swindges.= Swings about violently. This is the only case in which
+Milton uses this word. It is used several times by Shakespeare in the
+sense of _to whip_, _to scourge_.
+
+47. =oracles are dumm.= Keightly says: "This was a frequent assertion of
+the Fathers, who ascribed to the coming of Christ what was the effect of
+time. They regarded the ancient oracles as having been the inspiration
+of the devil."
+
+Spenser, quoting the story which Plutarch relates in "his Booke of the
+ceasing of miracles," says, "For at that time, as hee sayth, all Oracles
+surceased, and enchaunted spirites that were woont to delude the people
+thenceforth held their peace."--_Glosse to Shepheards Calendar, May._
+
+48. =Delphos.= The mediæval form of the word _Delphi_. The temple where
+was the chief oracle of Apollo was at Delphi, built at the foot of a
+precipitous cliff two thousand feet high. This oracle was suppressed by
+the Emperor Theodosius.
+
+49. =weeping.= Compare Matthew ii. 19, and Jeremiah xxxi. 15.
+
+Spenser, in the same _Glosse_, quoted from above, says, "About the same
+time that our Lorde suffered his most bitter passion for the redemption
+of man, certaine persons sailing from Italie to Cyprus and passing by
+certaine iles called Paxæ, heard a voice calling aloud Thamus, Thamus,
+(now Thamus was the name of an Egyptian which was pylote of the ship),
+who, giving ear to the crie, was bidden, when he came to Palodes to tell
+that great Pan was dead: which hee doubting to doe, yet for that when
+hee came to Palodes, there suddenly was such a calme of winde that the
+ship stoode still in the sea unmooved, he was forced to crie aloude that
+Pan was dead: wherewithall there was heard such piteous outcries, and
+dreadfull shriking as hath not beene the like."
+
+50. =parting.= Departing. Frequently used in Old English.
+
+=Genius.= Spirit. See "Lycidas," 182:
+
+     "Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore."
+
+51. =consecrated earth--holy hearth.= Referring to the places specially
+haunted by the Lars and Lemures. The Lemures were the spirits of the
+dead, and were said to wander about at night, frightening the living.
+The Lares were the household gods, sometimes referred to as the spirits
+of good men. The former frequented the graveyards; the latter, the
+hearths.
+
+52. =Flamins.= Priests.
+
+53. =forgoes.= Goes from, gives up, abandons.
+
+54. =Peor and Baälim.= Compare the proper names which occur in this and
+the following stanzas with those in "Paradise Lost," I, 316-352.
+
+=Peor.= The name of a mountain of Palestine is here used as one of the
+titles of Baal, who was worshipped there.
+
+=Baälim.= Plural of Baal, meaning that god in his various modifications.
+
+=Ashtaroth.= The Syrian goddess Astarte. But her worship was identified
+rather with the planet Venus than with the moon.
+
+=Hammon.= A Libyan deity, represented as a ram or as a man with ram's
+horns.
+
+55. =twise batter'd god.= Dagon. See 1 Samuel v.
+
+56. =mourn.= In Phoenicia, in the ancient city of Byblos, a festival of
+two days was held every year in honor of Adonis, or Thammuz, as the
+Phoenicians called him. The first day was observed as a day of
+mourning for the death of the god; the second, as a day of rejoicing
+because of his return to the earth. The principal participants were
+young women. The prophet Ezekiel alludes to this subject: "Then he
+brought me to the door of the gate of the Lord's house which was toward
+the north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz."--_Ezekiel_
+viii. 14.
+
+Milton, in "Paradise Lost," says:
+
+        "Thammuz came next behind,
+      Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd
+      The Syrian damsels to lament his fate
+      In amorous ditties all a summer's day."
+
+57. Compare with "Paradise Lost," I, 392-405. In _Sandys's Travels_,
+published in 1615, and a popular book in Milton's time, the following
+description is given of the sacrifices made to Moloch: "Therein the
+Hebrews sacrificed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having
+the head of a calf, the rest of a kingly figure, with arms extended to
+receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death with his burning
+embracements. For the idol was hollow within and filled with fire."
+
+58. =grisly.= Frightful, hideous. Probably from A.-S. _agrisan_, to dread.
+
+59. =brutish.= Shaped like a brute; animal.
+
+=Isis.= The Egyptian earth-goddess, afterwards worshipped as the goddess
+of the moon.
+
+=Orus.= The Egyptian god of the sun.
+
+the dog =Anubis=. Juvenal says, "Whole towns worship the dog."--_Sat._,
+XV, 8.
+
+60. =unshowr'd.= A reference to the general, though erroneous, idea that
+it does not rain in Egypt.
+
+=Osiris=, or Apis, one of the chief gods of the Egyptians, was represented
+by a bull.
+
+=sacred chest= = =worshipt ark=, below.
+
+61. =eyn.= The old plural form of eyes. This form of the plural survives
+in _oxen_, _children_, _brethren_, _kine_, _swine_.
+
+=Typhon.= A monster among the gods, variously described by the poets. He
+was a terror to all the other deities.
+
+62. =in bed.= The sun has not yet risen.
+
+63. =youngest teemed.= Referring to the Star of Bethlehem.
+
+64. Compare Milton's "Sonnet on his Blindness":
+
+     "They also serve who only stand and wait."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN MILTON was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London, in the year
+1608, eight years before the death of Shakespeare. From his boyhood he
+showed the possession of more than ordinary powers of mind. He was
+educated first under private tutors, and at St. Paul's School, and
+finally at Christ's College, Cambridge, where in 1632 he received the
+degree of "Master of Arts." His first considerable work was the "Hymn on
+the Morning of the Nativity," written in 1629. Within the next seven
+years he wrote the most noteworthy of his shorter poems: the masque,
+"Comus"; the pastoral piece entitled "Arcades"; the beautiful
+descriptive poems, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso"; and the elegy,
+"Lycidas." In 1639 he made a tour upon the Continent, visited the famous
+seats of learning in France and Italy, and made the acquaintance of many
+of the great poets and scholars of his time. Upon hearing, however, that
+civil war was about to break out in England, he hastened home, resolved
+to devote himself to what he regarded as his country's best interests.
+Poetry was abandoned for politics, and for the next twenty years he
+wrote little except prose--political tracts and controversial essays.
+When Cromwell became Lord Protector of England, Milton was appointed
+Latin Secretary of State, a position which he continued to hold until
+towards the downfall of the Commonwealth. But after the Restoration he
+quietly withdrew into retirement, resolved to devote the remainder of
+his life to the writing of the great poem which he had been
+contemplating for many years. Through unceasing study he had lost his
+sight; the friends of his youth had deserted him; the fortune which he
+had received from his father was gone. And so it was in darkness, and
+disappointment, and poverty, that in 1667 he gave to the world the great
+English epic, "Paradise Lost." It was in that same year that Dryden
+published his "Annus Mirabilis." Milton shortly afterward wrote
+"Paradise Regained"; and, in 1671, he produced "Samson Agonistes," a
+tragedy modelled after the masterpieces of the Greek drama. On the 8th
+of November, 1674, at the age of sixty-six years, his strangely eventful
+life came to a close.
+
+
+WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.
+
+     Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
+     England hath need of thee; she is a fen
+     Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
+     Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
+     Have forfeited their ancient English dower
+     Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
+     Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
+     And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
+     Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
+     Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
+     Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
+     So didst thou travel on life's common way,
+     In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
+     The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas;
+selections from Paradise Lost.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Masson's _Life and Times of John Milton_; _Milton_
+(Classical Writers), by Stopford Brooke; _Milton_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Mark Pattison; Macaulay's Essay on _Milton_; De Quincey,
+_Milton vs. Southey and Landor_; Coleridge's _Literary Remains_;
+Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Herrick.
+
+
+
+
+TO PHILLIS.
+
+
+     Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
+     The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
+     What sweets the country can afford
+     Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
+     The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
+     With crawling woodbine over-spread:
+     By which the silver-shedding streams
+     Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
+     Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
+     Made of the fleeces' purest down.
+     The tongue of kids shall be thy meat;
+     Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
+     The paste of filberts for thy bread
+     With cream of cowslips butterèd:
+     Thy feasting-table shall be hills
+     With daisies spread, and daffadils;
+     Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
+     For meat, shall give thee melody.
+     I'll give thee chains and carcanets
+     Of primroses and violets.
+     A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
+     That richly wrought, and this as brave;
+     So that as either shall express
+     The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
+     At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
+     When Themilis his pastime makes,
+     There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
+     Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
+     On holydays, when virgins meet
+     To dance the heys with nimble feet,
+     Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
+     The Queen of Roses for that year.
+     And having danced ('bove all the best)
+     Carry the garland from the rest.
+     In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
+     To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
+     The blushing apple, bashful pear,
+     And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
+     Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
+     The name of Phillis in the rind
+     Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
+     Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
+     To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
+     Be-prank'd with ribbons, to this end,
+     This, this alluring hook might be
+     Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
+     Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
+     Not made of ale, but spicèd wine;
+     To make thy maids and self free mirth,
+     All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
+     Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
+     Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
+     Of winning colors that shall move
+     Others to lust, but me to love.
+     --These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
+     If thou wilt love, and live with me.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAD MAID'S SONG.
+
+
+     Good morrow to the day so fair;
+       Good morning, sir, to you;
+     Good morrow to mine own torn hair,
+       Bedabbled with the dew.
+
+     Good morning to this primrose too;
+       Good morrow to each maid;
+     That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
+       Wherein my Love is laid.
+
+     Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,
+       Alack and well-a-day!
+     For pity, sir, find out that bee,
+       Which bore my Love away.
+
+     I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;
+       I'll seek him in your eyes;
+     Nay, now I think they've made his grave
+       I' th' bed of strawberries.
+
+     I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,
+       The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
+     But I will go, or send a kiss
+       By you, sir, to awake him.
+
+     Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
+       He knows well who do love him;
+     And who with green turfs rear his head,
+       And who do rudely move him.
+
+     He's soft and tender, pray take heed,
+       With bands of cowslips bind him,
+     And bring him home;--but 'tis decreed
+       That I shall never find him.
+
+
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING TO GOD.
+
+
+     Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
+               Wherein to dwell;
+     A little house, whose humble roof
+               Is weather proof;
+     Under the spars of which I lie
+               Both soft and dry;
+     Where thou, my chamber for to ward,
+               Hast set a guard
+     Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
+               Me, while I sleep.
+     Low is my porch, as is my fate;
+               Both void of state;
+     And yet the threshold of my door
+               Is worn by th' poor,
+     Who thither come, and freely get
+               Good words, or meat.
+     Like as my parlor, so my hall
+               And kitchen's small;
+     A little buttery, and therein
+               A little bin,
+     Which keeps my little loaf of bread
+               Unchipt, unflead;
+     Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
+               Make me a fire,
+     Close by whose living coal I sit,
+               And glow like it.
+     Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
+               The pulse is thine,
+     And all those other bits that be
+               There placed by thee;
+     The worts, the purslain, and the mess
+               Of water-cress,
+     Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;
+               And my content
+     Makes those, and my belovèd beet,
+               To be more sweet.
+     'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
+               With guiltless mirth,
+     And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,
+               Spiced to the brink.
+     Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
+               That soils my land,
+     And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
+               Twice ten for one;
+     Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
+               Her egg each day;
+     Besides, my healthful ewes to bear
+               Me twins each year;
+     The while the conduits of my kine
+               Run cream, for wine:
+     All these, and better, thou dost send
+               Me, to this end,--
+     That I should render, for my part,
+               A thankful heart;
+     Which, fired with incense, I resign,
+               As wholly thine;
+     --But the acceptance, that must be,
+               My Christ, by Thee.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT HERRICK was born in Cheapside, London, August 20, 1591. He was
+educated at Cambridge, and in 1629, having taken orders, was presented
+to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire. From this living he was
+ejected by the Long Parliament in 1648, and, going up to London, he
+united himself with some of his former associates and entered upon a
+career not altogether creditable to his profession of parson. At the
+restoration of Charles II. he was returned to his vicarage, where he
+remained until his death in 1674. His best poems are included in the
+collection entitled "Hesperides, or Works Humane and Divine," published
+in 1648, and dedicated to "the most illustrious and most hopeful Prince
+Charles." The "Argument" prefixed to this collection very prettily
+describes the character of the pieces which it contains:
+
+     "I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
+      Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;
+      I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
+      Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.
+      I write of Youth, of Love;--and have access
+      By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;
+      I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,
+      Of balm, of oil, of spice, of ambergris.
+      I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write
+      How roses first came red, and lilies white.
+      I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
+      The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King;
+      I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall
+      Of Heaven,--and hope to have it after all."
+
+"Herrick's best things," says Robert Buchanan, "are his poems in praise
+of the country life, and his worst things are his epigrams. His
+gladsome, mercurial temper had a great deal to do with the composition
+of his best lyrics; for the parson of Dean Prior was no philosopher, and
+his lightest, airiest verses are the best. His was a happy, careless
+nature, throwing off verses out of the fulness of a joyous heart,
+rioting in a pleasant, sunny element."
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Waller.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+     Go, lovely Rose,
+     Tell her that wastes her time and me,
+     That now she knows
+     When I resemble her to thee
+     How sweet and fair she seems to be.
+
+     Tell her that's young,
+     And shuns to have her graces spied,
+     That had'st thou sprung
+     In deserts where no men abide,
+     Thou must have uncommended died.
+
+     Small is the worth
+     Of beauty from the light retired;
+     Bid her come forth,
+     Suffer herself to be desired,
+     And not blush so to be admired.
+
+     Then die, that she
+     The common fate of all things rare
+     May read in thee,
+     How small a part of time they share
+     Who are so wondrous sweet and fair.
+
+
+
+
+OF ENGLISH VERSE.
+
+
+     Poets may boast, as safely vain,
+     Their works shall with the world remain:
+     Both bound together, live or die,
+     The verses and the prophecy.
+
+     But who can hope his line should long
+     Last, in a daily-changing tongue?
+     While they are new, envy prevails;
+     And as that dies our language fails.
+
+     When architects have done their part,
+     The matter may betray their art:
+     Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,
+     Soon brings a well-built palace down.
+
+     Poets, that lasting marble seek,
+     Must carve in Latin or in Greek:
+     We write in sand, our language grows,
+     And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.
+
+     Chaucer his sense can only boast,
+     The glory of his numbers lost!
+     Years have defac't his matchless strain,
+     And yet he did not sing in vain.
+
+     The beauties which adorn'd that age,
+     The shining subjects of his rage,
+     Hoping they should immortal prove,
+     Rewarded with success his love.
+
+     This was the gen'rous poet's scope,
+     And all an English pen can hope;
+     To make the fair approve his flame,
+     That can so far extend their fame.
+
+     Verse thus design'd has no ill fate,
+     If it arrive but at the date
+     Of fading beauty, if it prove
+     But as long-liv'd as present love.
+
+
+
+
+ON A GIRDLE.
+
+
+     That which her slender waist confin'd
+     Shall now my joyful temples bind;
+     No monarch but would give his crown
+     His arms might do what this has done.
+
+     It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
+     The pale which held that lovely deer:
+     My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
+     Did all within this circle move!
+
+     A narrow compass! and yet there
+     Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:
+     Give me but what this riband bound,
+     Take all the rest the sun goes round.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND WALLER, whose poetry is noticeable because he was the first
+English versifier to adopt the French fashion of writing in couplets,
+was born in Warwickshire in 1605. He was elected to Parliament at the
+age of seventeen, and was a member of that body during the greater part
+of his life. At the beginning of the difficulties between the king and
+the Parliament, he gained some notoriety by his opposition to the
+former, but when the Civil War broke out he attached himself to the
+Royalist cause. In 1643, being convicted of complicity in a plot against
+Parliament, he was fined £10,000 and imprisoned for twelve months. After
+his release he went to France; but in 1653 he returned to England and
+became reconciled to the new government, writing, soon afterward, "A
+Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the present Greatness and joint
+Interest of his Highness and this Nation." At the Restoration he eagerly
+declared allegiance to Charles II., and wrote a congratulatory ode on
+that monarch's return. He became a court favorite, noted for his wit,
+was made provost of Eton, and returned to his old place in Parliament.
+He died October 21, 1687. The first edition of his poems was published
+in 1645, and from that time to the close of the seventeenth century he
+was quite generally regarded as the greatest of English poets. At the
+present time there are few writers so little considered as he.
+
+Waller may be regarded as the founder of the classical school of English
+poetry, in which Dryden and Pope excelled, and which remained in the
+ascendency for more than a century after his death. "The excellence and
+dignity of rhyme," says Dryden, "were never fully known till Mr. Waller
+taught it; he first made writing easily an art, first showed us to
+conclude the sense, most commonly, in distichs, which in the verse of
+those before him runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is
+out of breath to overtake it."
+
+And Dr. Johnson says: "He certainly very much excelled in smoothness
+most of the writers who were living when his poetry commenced. But he
+was rather smooth than strong: of the 'full resounding line' which Pope
+attributes to Dryden, he has given very few examples. The general
+character of his poetry is elegance and gaiety. He seems neither to have
+had a mind much elevated by nature, nor amplified by learning. His
+thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
+life would easily supply."
+
+
+
+
+Ben Jonson.
+
+
+
+
+AN ODE TO HIMSELF.
+
+
+     Where dost Thou careless lie
+         Buried in ease and sloth?
+     Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;
+     And this security,
+         It is the common moth
+     That eats on wits and arts, and [so] destroys them both.
+
+     Are all the Aonian{1} springs
+         Dried up? lies Thespia waste?
+     Doth Clarius'{2} harp want strings,
+     That not a nymph now sings;
+         Or droop they as disgrac'd,
+     To see their seats and bowers by chattering pies{3} defac'd?
+
+     If hence{4} thy silence be,
+         As 'tis too just a cause,
+     Let this thought quicken thee:
+     Minds that are great and free
+         Should not on fortune pause;
+     'Tis crown enough to virtue{5} still, her own applause.
+
+     What though the greedy fry
+         Be taken with false baits
+     Of worded balladry,
+     And think it poesy?
+         They die with their conceits,
+     And only piteous scorn upon their folly waits.
+
+     Then take in hand thy lyre;
+         Strike in thy proper strain;
+     With Japhet's line,{6} aspire
+     Sol's chariot for new fire,
+         To give the world again:
+     Who aided him, will thee, the issue of Jove's brain.{7}
+
+     And, since our dainty age
+         Cannot endure reproof,
+     Make not thyself a page
+     To that strumpet the stage;
+         But sing high and aloof,
+     Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.{8}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem is found in the collection of miscellaneous pieces, by Ben
+Jonson, entitled "Underwoods." The poet reproaches himself for his own
+indolence.
+
+1. =Aonian springs.= The fountain Aganippe, situated in Aonia, was much
+frequented by the Muses, who were therefore sometimes called "Aonides."
+They were also called _Thespiades_, because Mount Helicon, one of their
+favored resorts, was in the vicinity of Thespia, and was itself named
+"Thespia rupes."
+
+2. =Clarius.= The name applied to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at
+Clarus, on the Ionian coast.
+
+3. =pies.= Magpies, "who make sound without sense."
+
+4. =hence.= For this reason.
+
+5. =virtue . . . her own applause.= Compare:
+
+     "Virtue is her own reward."--_Dryden_, _Tyrannic Love_.
+
+     "Virtue, a reward to itself."--_Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+     "Virtue is its own reward."--_Prior_, _Imitations of Horace_.
+
+6. =Japhet's line.= The line of Iapetus, the father of Prometheus, who
+stole fire from the chariot of the sun.
+
+7. =issue of Jove's brain.= Athene, or Minerva.
+
+8. "Safe from the slanderer and the fool."
+
+
+
+
+TO CYNTHIA.
+
+
+     Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
+       Now the sun is laid to sleep;
+     Seated in thy silver chair,
+       State in wonted manner keep;
+     Hesperus entreats thy light,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Earth, let not thy envious shade
+       Dare itself to interpose;
+     Cynthia's shining orb was made
+       Heaven to clear, when day did close;
+     Bless us then with wished sight,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
+       And thy crystal-shining quiver;
+     Give unto the flying heart
+       Space to breathe, how short soever;
+     Thou that mak'st a day of night,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE
+HATH LEFT US.
+
+
+     To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
+     Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;{1}
+     While I confess thy writings to be such,
+     As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
+     'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
+     Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
+     For seeliest{2} ignorance on these may light,
+     Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
+     Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
+     The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
+     Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
+     And think to ruin where it seemed to praise.
+     But thou art proof against them and, indeed,
+     Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.
+     I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!
+     The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
+     My SHAKESPEARE rise! I will not lodge thee by
+     Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
+     A little further, to make thee a room:{3}
+     Thou art a monument without a tomb,
+     And art alive still while thy book doth live,
+     And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
+     That I not mix thee so my brain excuses,--
+     I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
+     For if I thought my judgment were of years,
+     I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
+     And tell how far thou didst our Lyly{4} outshine,
+     Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.
+     And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
+     From thence to honor thee I would not seek
+     For names, but call forth thund'ring Æschylus,{5}
+     Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
+     Pacuvius, Accius,{6} him of Cordova dead,
+     To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,
+     And shake a stage; or when thy socks{7} were on,
+     Leave thee alone for a comparison
+     Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
+     Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
+     Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,
+     To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
+     He was not of an age, but for all time!
+     And all the Muses still were in their prime,
+     When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
+     Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
+     Nature herself was proud of his designs,
+     And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,
+     Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
+     As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
+     The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
+     Neat Terence, witty Plautus,{8} now not please;
+     But antiquated and deserted lie,
+     As they were not of Nature's family.
+     Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art,
+     My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
+     For though the poet's matter nature be,
+     His art doth give the fashion; and that he{9}
+     Who casts to write a living line, must sweat
+     (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
+     Upon the Muses' anvil, turn the same,
+     And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
+     Or for the laurel he may gain to scorn;
+     For a good poet's made, as well as born.
+     And such wert thou! Look, how the father's face
+     Lives in his issue, even so the race
+     Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines
+     In his well-turnèd and true filèd lines,
+     In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
+     As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
+     Sweet Swan of Avon!{10} what a sight it were
+     To see thee in our waters yet appear,
+     And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
+     That so did take Eliza and our James!
+     But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere{11}
+     Advanced, and made a constellation there!
+     Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage
+     Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage,
+     Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,
+     And despairs day but for thy volume's light.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was prefixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, 1623,
+and is also printed in Ben Jonson's "Underwoods."
+
+1. The meaning of these two lines would seem to be: "To show that I am
+not envious, Shakespeare, of thy name, I thus write fully of thy works
+and fame."
+
+2. =seeliest.= Silliest, simplest. From A.-S. _saelig_, foolish. See note
+23, page 190.
+
+3. In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakespeare, beginning:
+
+     "Renownèd Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
+      To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lie
+      A little nearer Spenser, to make room
+      For Shakespear in your threefold, fourfold tomb."
+
+4. =Lyly, Kyd, Marlowe.= Contemporaries of Shakespeare. See Biographical
+Dictionary.
+
+5. =Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles.= The founders of the Greek
+tragical drama.
+
+6. =Pacuvius, Accius.= Celebrated Roman tragic poets.
+
+=him of Cordova.= Seneca, the great rhetorician, was born at Cordova, in
+Spain, B.C. 61.
+
+7. =socks were on.= The socks indicated comedy, and the buskins tragedy.
+Compare Milton's "L'Allegro," 131:
+
+     "Then to the well-trod stage anon,
+      If Jonson's learned sock be on,
+      Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
+      Warble his native wood-note wild."
+
+Also, "Il Penseroso," 97. See note on _buskin_, page 139.
+
+8. =Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus.= Ancient writers of comedy.
+
+9. =that he.= That man.
+
+10. =Swan of Avon.= So Cowper calls Virgil "the Mantuan swan."
+
+11. =hemisphere.= The celestial hemisphere.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+BEN JONSON was born in Westminster, in 1573. His early life was full of
+hard and varied experiences. He was educated at Westminster School, and
+entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Being obliged to leave his
+university course unfinished, he worked for a time with his step-father
+as a brick-layer. At the age of eighteen he enlisted as a volunteer in
+the Low Countries; but in 1596 he settled in London, as a playwright.
+His first comedy, "Every Man in his Humour," did not meet with immediate
+success. It was remodelled, at Shakespeare's suggestion, and when
+afterwards presented was received with marked favor. His first tragedy,
+"Sejanus," was acted in 1603. His masques, of which there are
+thirty-six, were written during the reign of James I. His miscellaneous
+works, embracing a variety of odes, elegies, epigrams, and other lyrics
+and epistles, are included in two collections, the first of which,
+called _The Forest_, was published in 1616, and the second posthumously,
+in 1641. He died in London, August 6, 1637.
+
+One of the last and most beautiful of Jonson's dramas is the unfinished
+pastoral comedy, "The Sad Shepherd." It was written while in the
+sick-chamber, with a keen sense and remembrance of the disappointments
+which had followed him through life; and to these he touchingly refers
+in the prologue:
+
+     "He that hath feasted you these forty years,
+      And fitted fables for your finer ears,
+      Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;
+      Yet you, with patience, hearkening more and more,
+      At length have grown up to him, and made known
+      The working of his pen is now your own:
+      He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,
+      To hear him this once more, but sit awake.
+      And though he now present you with such wool
+      As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,
+      He hopes when it is made up into cloth,
+      Not the most curious head here will be loth
+      To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,
+      To match or those of Sicily or Greece.
+      His scene is Sherwood, and his play a tale
+      Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale
+      Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast;
+      Where, by the casual absence of one guest,
+      The mirth is troubled much, and in one man
+      As much of sadness shown as passion can."
+
+Robert Herrick wrote of him thus:
+
+                 "Ah Ben!
+               Say how or when
+               Shall we, thy guests,
+           Meet at those lyric feasts,
+               Made at the Sun,
+           The Dog, the Triple Tun;
+           Where we such clusters had,
+         As made us nobly wild, not mad?
+           And yet each verse of thine
+     Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
+
+                 "My Ben!
+               Or come again,
+               Or send to us
+           Thy wit's great overplus;
+               But teach us yet
+           Wisely to husband it,
+           Lest we that talent spend;
+         And having once brought to an end
+           That precious stock,--the store
+     Of such a wit the world should have no more."
+
+
+
+
+The Sixteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In fifty-two years, without counting the drama, two hundred and
+thirty-three poets are enumerated, of whom forty have genius or
+talent. . . . What is this condition which gives rise to so universal a
+taste for poetry? What is it breathes life into their books? How happens
+it, that amongst the least, in spite of pedantrie, awkwardnesses, we
+meet with brilliant pictures and genuine love-cries? How happens it,
+that when this generation was exhausted, true poetry ended in England,
+as true painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the
+mind came and passed away,--that, namely, of instinctive and creative
+conception. These men had new senses, and no theories in their
+heads. . . . They are happy in contemplating beautiful things, and wish
+only that they should be the most beautiful possible. They do not excite
+themselves to express moral or philosophical ideas. They wish to enjoy
+through the imagination, through the eyes, like those Italian nobles,
+who, at the same time, were so captivated by fine colors and forms, that
+they covered with paintings not only their rooms and their churches, but
+the lids of their chests and the saddles of their horses. . . . Think
+what poetry was likely to spring from them, how superior to common
+events, how free from literal imitation, how smitten with ideal beauty,
+how capable of creating a world beyond our sad world._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Sixteenth Century.
+
+=Sir Thomas Wyatt= (1503-1542). See biographical note, page 252.
+
+=Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey= (1517-1547). See biographical note, page
+252.
+
+=George Gascoigne= (1536-1577). "The Steel Glass"; "The Tragedy of
+Iocaste."
+
+=Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst= (1536-1608). "The Induction to the
+Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc."
+
+=Edmund Spenser= (1552-1598). See biographical note, page 245.
+
+=Sir Philip Sidney= (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short
+poems.
+
+=Thomas Watson= (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of
+Love"; "Meliboeus"; "The Tears of Fancie."
+
+=John Lyly= (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's
+Metamorphosis."
+
+=Robert Greene= (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Christopher Marlowe= (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Thomas Lodge= (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=William Warner= (1550-1609). "Albion's England"; "Pan, his Syrinx or
+Pipe."
+
+=William Shakespeare= (1564-1616). See note, page 221.
+
+=Samuel Daniel= (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the two
+Houses of York and Lancaster."
+
+=Sir Walter Raleigh= (1552-1618). Short poems.
+
+=George Chapman= (1559-1634). Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and "Homer's
+Odyssey."
+
+=Michael Drayton= (1563-1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars"; "The
+Battle of Agincourt."
+
+=Joseph Hall= (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.
+
+=Sir John Davies= (    -1626). "Nosce Teipsum."
+
+=John Donne= (1573-1631). Short poems.
+
+
+
+
+William Shakespeare.
+
+
+
+
+VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.
+
+[FROM "VENUS AND ADONIS."]
+
+
+     "Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,
+     But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
+     O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is
+     With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
+       Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
+       Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.
+
+     "On his bow-back he hath a battle set
+     Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
+     His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
+     His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
+       Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
+       And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.
+
+     "His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
+     Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
+     His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
+     Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
+       The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
+       As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.
+
+     "Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
+     To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
+     Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
+     Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
+       But having thee at vantage,--wondrous dread!
+       Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.
+
+     "O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
+     Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
+     Come not within his danger by thy will;
+     They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
+       When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
+       I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.
+
+     "But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;
+     Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
+     Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,
+     Or at the roe which no encounter dare:
+       Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
+       And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.
+
+     "And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
+     Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
+     How he outruns the wind and with what care
+     He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
+       The many musets through the which he goes
+       Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
+
+     "Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
+     To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
+     And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
+     To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,
+       And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:
+       Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:
+
+     "For there his smell with others being mingled,
+     The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
+     Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
+     With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
+       Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
+       As if another chase were in the skies.
+
+     "By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
+     Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
+     To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
+     Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
+       And now his grief may be compared well
+       To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.
+
+     "Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
+     Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
+     Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,
+     Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
+       For misery is trodden on by many,
+       And being low never relieved by any."
+
+
+
+
+A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.
+
+[FROM "CYMBELINE."]
+
+
+     Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
+       And Phoebus 'gins arise,
+     His steeds to water at those springs
+       On chaliced flowers that lies;
+     And winking Mary-buds begin
+       To ope their golden eyes:
+     With everything that pretty is,
+       My lady sweet, arise:
+         Arise, arise.
+
+
+
+
+SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.
+
+[FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]
+
+
+     Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
+       Men were deceivers ever,
+     One foot in sea and one on shore,
+       To one thing constant never:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+     Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
+       Of dumps so dull and heavy;
+     The fraud of men was ever so,
+       Since summer first was leafy:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+
+
+
+SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.
+
+[SONNET XXXIII.]
+
+
+     Full many a glorious morning have I seen
+       Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
+     Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
+       Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
+     Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
+       With ugly rack on his celestial face,
+     And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
+       Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
+     Even so my sun one early morn did shine
+       With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;
+     But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
+       The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
+     Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
+     Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.
+
+
+
+
+THE WORLD'S WAY.
+
+[SONNET LXVI.]
+
+
+     Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,--
+       As, to behold desert a beggar born,
+     And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
+       And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
+     And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,
+       And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
+     And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
+       And strength by limping sway disabled,
+     And art made tongue-tied by authority,
+       And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
+     And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
+       And captive Good attending captain Ill:
+     Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,--
+     Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and
+died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic
+compositions. His two narrative poems, "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape
+of Lucrece," were published in 1593 and 1594, before any of his plays
+had been printed. They may be regarded as companion pieces, written in
+the same style and distinguished by similar characteristics.
+
+"A couple of ice-houses," says Dowden, "these two poems of Shakespeare
+have been called by Hazlitt; 'they are,' he says, 'as hard, as
+glittering, as cold.' Cold indeed they will seem to any one who listens
+to hear in them the natural cry of human passion. But the paradox is
+true, that for a young poet of Elizabeth's age to be natural, direct,
+simple, would have been indeed unnatural. He was most happy when most
+fantastical; he spun a shining web to catch conceits inevitably as a
+spider casts his thread; the quick-building wit was itself warm while
+erecting its ice-houses." Coleridge says of the "Venus and Adonis" that
+its most obvious excellence "is the perfect sweetness of the
+versification; its adaptation to the subject; and the power displayed in
+varying the march of the words without passing into a loftier and more
+majestic rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the
+propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant."
+
+Shakespeare's "Sonnets" were published in 1609. Concerning the origin,
+purpose, and interpretation of these poems, many widely different
+theories have been proposed, "Some have looked on them as one poem."
+says Fleay; "some as several poems--of groups of sonnets; some as
+containing a separate poem in each sonnet. They have been supposed to be
+written in Shakespeare's own person, or in the character of another, or
+of several others; to be autobiographical or heterobiographical or
+allegorical; to have been addressed to Lord Southampton, to Sir William
+Herbert, to his own wife, to Lady Rich, to his child, to himself, to his
+Muse." The safest and wisest course seems to be, first to regard each of
+the one hundred and fifty-four sonnets as a poem complete in itself, and
+after studying whatever it may contain of art, or beauty, or truth, then
+to discover, if possible, its relationship to those which precede or
+follow it in the series.
+
+Of the other poems written by Shakespeare, mention should be made of
+"The Passionate Pilgrim" (1559), "The Phoenix and the Turtle" (1601), "A
+Lover's Complaint," published in the same volume with the "Sonnets," and
+the few exquisite little songs scattered through his plays.
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Spenser.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAVE OF MAMMON.
+
+     Guyon findes Mammon in a delve{1}
+       Sunning his threasure hore{2};
+     Is by him tempted, and led downe
+       To see his secrete store.
+
+
+       As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,
+     That to a stedfast starre{3} his course hath bent,
+     When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have
+     The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,{4}
+     And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,{5}
+     Upon his card and compas firmes{6} his eye,
+     The maysters of his long experiment,
+     And to them does the steddy helme apply,
+     Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:
+
+       So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,
+     Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
+     Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;
+     And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes
+     Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.
+     So, long he yode,{7} yet no adventure found,
+     Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes{8};
+     For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,
+     That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.
+
+       At last he came unto a gloomy glade,
+     Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
+     Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
+     An uncouth, salvage,{9} and uncivile wight,
+     Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;
+     His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,
+     His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,{10}
+     His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard
+     In smythes fire-spitting{11} forge, and nayles like clawes appear.
+
+       His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
+     Was underneath enveloped with gold;
+     Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
+     Well yet appeared to have beene of old
+     A worke of rich entayle{12} and curious mould,
+     Woven with antickes{13} and wyld ymagery;
+     And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
+     And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
+     And covetous desire with his huge threasury.
+
+       And round about him lay on every side
+     Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;
+     Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
+     Of Mulcibers{14} devouring element;
+     Some others were new driven, and distent
+     Into great Ingowes and to wedges square;
+     Some in round plates withouten moniment{15};
+     But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
+     The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.
+
+       Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
+     And haste he rose for to remove aside
+     Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,
+     And downe them poured through an hole full wide
+     Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.
+     But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
+     His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;
+     And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,
+     Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:
+
+       "What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)
+     That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
+     And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart
+     From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"
+     Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,
+     In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,
+     That darest view my direfull countenaunce,
+     I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,
+     To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.
+
+       "God of the world and worldlings I me call,
+     Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
+     That of my plenty poure out unto all,
+     And unto none my graces do envye:
+     Riches, renowme, and principality,
+     Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,
+     For which men swinck{16} and sweat incessantly,
+     Fro me do flow into an ample flood,
+     And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.
+
+       "Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,{17}
+     At thy commaund lo! all these mountaines bee:
+     Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,
+     All these may not suffise, there shall to thee
+     Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."
+     "Mammon," (said he) "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,
+     And idle offers of thy golden fee;
+     To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine
+     Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.
+
+       "Me ill besits,{18} that in derdoing, armes
+     And honours suit my vowd daies do spend,
+     Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,
+     With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;
+     Regard of worldly mucke{19} doth fowly blend,
+     And low abase the high heroicke spright,{20}
+     That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend:
+     Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight;
+     Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."
+
+       "Vaine glorious Elfe," (saide he) "doest not thou weet,{21}
+     That money can thy wantes at will supply?
+     Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet,
+     It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;
+     And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
+     Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne
+     Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,
+     And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,
+     And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?"
+
+       "All otherwise" (saide he) "I riches read,
+     And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;
+     First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,
+     And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,
+     Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse:
+     Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,
+     Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,
+     Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize,
+     That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize.
+
+       "Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;
+     But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,
+     And loyall truth to treason doest incline:
+     Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,
+     The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround;
+     The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,
+     And purple robe gored with many a wound,
+     Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent;
+     So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.
+
+       "Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse
+     The private state, and make the life unsweet:
+     Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,
+     And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,
+     Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet."
+     Then Mammon wexing wroth: "And why then," sayd,
+     "Are mortall men so fond{22} and undiscreet
+     So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,
+     And having not complaine, and having it upbrayd?"
+
+       "Indeede," (quoth he) "through fowle intemperaunce
+     Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise;
+     But would they thinke with how small allowaunce
+     Untroubled Nature doth herselfe suffise,
+     Such superfluities they would despise,
+     Which with sad cares empeach{23} our native joyes.
+     At the well-head the purest streames arise;
+     But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,
+     And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.{24}
+
+       "The antique world, in his first flowring youth,
+     Fownd no defect in his Creators grace;
+     But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,{25}
+     The gifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:
+     Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;
+     But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,
+     Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace
+     To all licentious lust, and gan exceed
+     The measure of her meane and naturall first need.
+
+       "Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe
+     Of his great Grandmother{26} with steele to wound,
+     And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe
+     With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd
+     Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,
+     Of which the matter of his huge desire
+     And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;
+     Then avarice gan through his veines inspire
+     His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."
+
+       "Sonne," (said he then) "lett be{27} thy bitter scorne,
+     And leave the rudenesse of that antique age
+     To them that liv'd therein, in state forlorne:
+     Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage{28}
+     Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
+     If then thee list my offred grace to use,
+     Take what thou please of all this surplusage;
+     If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:
+     But refused doe not afterward accuse."
+
+       "Me list{29} not" (said the Elfin knight) "receave
+     Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;
+     Ne wote but thou didst these goods bereave
+     From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,
+     Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott."
+     "Perdy,"{30} (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew,
+     Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;
+     But safe I have them kept in secret mew
+     From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.
+
+       "What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold
+     So huge a masse, and hide from heaven's eie?
+     Or where hast thou thy wonne,{31} that so much gold
+     Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"
+     "Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by
+     Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd
+     A darkesome way, which no man could descry,
+     That deep descended through the hollow grownd,
+     And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.
+
+       At length they came into a larger space,
+     That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne;
+     Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
+     That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne.{32}
+     By that wayes side there sate internall Payne,
+     And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:
+     The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,
+     The other brandished a bloody knife;
+     And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.
+
+       On thother side in one consort there sate
+     Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,
+     Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;
+     But gnawing Gealousy, out of their sight
+     Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;
+     And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,
+     And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:
+     Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye,
+     And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.
+
+       And over them sad Horror with grim hew
+     Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;
+     And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew,
+     The hatefull messengers of heavy things,
+     Of death and dolor telling sad tidings,
+     Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,
+     A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,
+     That hart of flint asonder could have rifte;
+     Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.
+
+       All these before the gates of Pluto lay,
+     By whom they passing spake unto them nought;
+     But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way
+     Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.
+     At last him to a little dore he brought,
+     That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,
+     Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:
+     Betwixt them both was but a little stride,
+     That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.
+
+       Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,
+     Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
+     For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware
+     Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:
+     Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward
+     Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;
+     For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;{33}
+     Therefore his house is unto his annext:
+     Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext.
+
+       So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore
+     To him did open and affoorded way:
+     Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,
+     Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay.
+     Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way
+     Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept
+     An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,
+     The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,
+     And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.
+
+       Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,
+     If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,
+     Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,
+     Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye,
+     Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye
+     He over him did hold his cruell clawes,
+     Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,
+     And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,
+     If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes.
+
+       That houses forme within was rude and strong,
+     Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,
+     From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong
+     Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte,
+     And with rich metall loaded every rifte,
+     That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;
+     And over them Arachne high did lifte
+     Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,
+     Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett.
+
+       Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,
+     But overgrowne with dust and old decay,
+     And hid in darkenes, that none could behold
+     The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day
+     Did never in that house it selfe display,
+     But a faint shadow of uncertain light:
+     Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away,
+     Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night,
+     Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.
+
+       In all that rowme was nothing to be seene
+     But huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,
+     All bard with double bends, that none could weene
+     Them to efforce by violence or wrong:
+     On every side they placed were along;
+     But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,
+     And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;
+     Whose lives, it seemed, whilome{34} there were shed,
+     And their vile carcases now left unburied.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is a selection from Spenser's great poem, "The Faerie Queene,"
+being a part of the seventh canto of book second. "The Faerie Queene"
+was published in 1590, and comprises six books of twelve cantos each.
+The first book is the Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the
+second, of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, or
+Chastity; the fourth, of Cambel and Triamond, or Friendship; the fifth,
+of Artegall, or Justice; the sixth, of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. It was
+Spenser's design that the complete work should contain twelve books, but
+of the remaining part only a fragment of one book, the "Legend of
+Constance," is in existence.
+
+The versification of the "Faerie Queene" is based upon the _ottava
+rima_, made so popular in Italian poetry by Tasso and Ariosto. Instead
+of eight lines to a stanza, however, there are nine. The first eight
+lines are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter, the stanza thus
+closing with a lingering cadence which adds greatly to the melody of the
+verse. This is the "Spenserian stanza," a form of versification very
+popular with many of our later poets.
+
+"If you love poetry well enough to enjoy it for its own sake," says
+Leigh Hunt, "let no evil reports of his _allegory_ deter you from an
+acquaintance with Spenser, for great will be your loss. His allegory
+itself is but one part allegory and nine parts beauty and enjoyment;
+sometimes an excess of flesh and blood. His wholesale poetical belief,
+mixing up all creeds and mythologies, but with less violence, resembles
+that of Dante and Boccaccio. His versification is almost perpetual
+honey."
+
+1. =delve.= Dell. From A.-S. _delfan_, delve, to dig. Each canto of the
+"Faerie Queene" is introduced by a four-line doggerel like this,
+containing the argument, or a brief summary of the narrative,--in
+imitation, probably, of Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso."
+
+2. =hore.= Sordid, miserly. Probably from A.-S. _harian_, to become mouldy
+or musty. The word _hoard_ may be traced to a similar root.
+
+3. =stedfast starre.= The pole-star. See "Faerie Queene," I, ii, 1:
+
+     "By this the northerne wagoner had set
+      His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre
+      That was in ocean waves yet never wet,
+      But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
+      To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre."
+
+4. =yblent.= Blinded.
+
+5. =dreriment.= Darkness.
+
+6. =firmes.= Fixes, makes firm.
+
+7. =yode.= Went. The past participle of the old verb _yede_, from A.-S.
+_gangead_, to go, to proceed.
+
+8. =reedes.= Considers. From A.-S. _ræd_, counsel, advice; O. E. _rede_.
+
+9. =salvage.= Savage, wild. Fr. _sauvage_. From Lat. _silva_, forest. See
+"Faerie Queene," IV, v, 19:
+
+     "For all his armour was like salvage weed
+      With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed
+      With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit
+      For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed
+      His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,
+      _Salvagesse sans finesse_,[233:1] shewing secret wit."
+
+=wight.= Person. From A.-S. _wiht_.
+
+     "For every wight that loved chevalrie."
+                           --_Chaucer_, _Canterbury Tales_, 2105.
+
+=griesly.= Dreadful. From A.-S. _grislic_; _agrisan_, to dread. Grisly.
+
+10. =bedight.= Covered. From _dight_, to dress, to deck. A.-S. _dihtan_.
+
+11. =fire-spitting.= "_Spett_ seems anciently to have more simply
+signified _disperse_, without the low idea which we at present affix to
+it."--_Warton._
+
+12. =entayle.= Sculpture, carving. Compare _intaglio_.
+
+13. =antickes.= Odd, or fantastic, forms. From Lat, _antiquus_, ancient.
+
+14. =of Mulcibers devouring element.= By fire. Mulciber is a surname of
+Vulcan, "which seems to have been given him as an euphemism, that he
+might not consume the habitations and property of men, but kindly aid
+them in their pursuits."
+
+15. =withouten moniment.= Without superscription.
+
+16. =swinck.= Labor, drudge. A.-S. _swincan_, to toil.
+
+17. =sew.= Follow. From Fr. _suivre_.
+
+=deigne.= From Fr. _daigner_, to consider worthy. Opposed to _disdain_.
+
+18. =Me ill besits.= It ill becomes me.
+
+=derdoing.= Dare-doing; doing daring deeds.
+
+19. =worldly mucke.= "Filthy lucre."
+
+20. =spright.= Spirit.
+
+21. =weet.= Understand. From A.-S. _witan_, to know.
+
+22. =fond.= Foolish.
+
+23. =empeach.= Hinder. Fr. _empêcher_.
+
+24. =accloyes.= Chokes or clogs up. Observe how the poet carries out his
+metaphor of the "well-head," "the purest streames," "his braunching
+armes," and "the gentle wave."
+
+25. =unreproved truth.= Sincerity.
+
+26. =great Grandmother.= Mother Earth.
+
+27. =lett be.= Leave off; make an end of.
+
+28. =wage.= Pledge. Observe the relationship between this word and both
+_wager_ and _wages_.
+
+29. =Me list.= I wish. Compare _methinks_, _meseems_. From A.-S. _lystan_,
+to choose.
+
+     "The wind bloweth where it listeth."--_John_ iii. 8.
+
+=wote.= Understood. See note 21 above.
+
+30. =Perdy.= An old oath used to give emphasis to an assertion. From Fr.
+_par dieu_.
+
+31. =wonne.= Habitation. From A.-S. _wunian_, to dwell.
+
+32. =rayne.= Reign. The word is frequently used in the older poets for
+_realm_, or _region_.
+
+33. =next to Death is Sleepe.=
+
+     "How wonderful is Death!
+      Death and his brother Sleep!"
+                                     --_Shelley_, _Queen Mab_, I.
+
+34. =whilome.= At some time.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[233:1] Wildness without art.
+
+
+
+
+PROTHALAMION; OR, A SPOUSALL VERSE.
+
+IN HONOUR OF THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE OF THE TWO HONORABLE AND VERTUOUS
+LADIES, THE LADY ELIZABETH AND THE LADY KATHERINE SOMERSET, DAUGHTERS TO
+THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARLE OF WORCESTER, AND ESPOUSED TO THE TWO
+WORTHIE GENTLEMEN, M. HENRY GILFORD AND M. WILLIAM PETER, ESQUYERS.
+
+
+     Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre
+     Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play
+     A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
+     Hot Titans{1} beames, which then did glyster fayre;
+     When I, (whom sullein care,
+     Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
+     In princes court,{2} and expectation vayne
+     Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away
+     Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)
+     Walkt forth to ease my payne
+     Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes{3};
+     Whose rutty{4} bank, the which his river hemmes,
+     Was paynted all with variable flowers,
+     And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes
+     Fit to decke maydens bowres,
+     And crown their paramours
+     Against{5} the brydale-day, which is not long;
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,
+     A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,
+     All lovely daughters of the Flood{6} thereby,
+     With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,{7}
+     As each had been a bryde;
+     And each one had a little wicker basket,
+     Made of fine twigs, entrayled{8} curiously,
+     In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,{9}
+     And with fine fingers cropt{10} full feateously
+     The tender stalkes on hye.{11}
+     Of every sort which in that meadow grew,
+     They gathered some; the violet, pallid{12} blew,
+     The little dazie that at evening closes,
+     The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew,{13}
+     With store{14} of vermeil roses,
+     To deck their bridegroomes posies{15}
+     Against the brydale-day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     With that{16} I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
+     Come softly swimming downe along the lee{17};
+     Two fairer birds I yet did never see;
+     The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,
+     Did never whiter shew,
+     Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be
+     For love of Leda, whiter did appeare.
+     Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
+     Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near{18}:
+     So purely white they were,
+     That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
+     Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
+     To wet their silken feathers, least they might
+     Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,
+     And marre their beauties bright,
+     That shone as heavens light,
+     Against their brydale day which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Eftsoones{19} the Nymphes, which now had flowers their fill,
+     Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
+     As they came floating on the cristal flood;
+     Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still,
+     Their wondring eyes to fill;
+     Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,
+     Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme
+     Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
+     Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme;
+     For sure they did not seeme
+     To be begot of any earthly seede,
+     But rather angels, or of angels breede;
+     Yet were they bred of Somers-heat,{20} they say,
+     In sweetest season, when each flower and weede
+     The earth did fresh array;
+     So fresh they seem'd as day,
+     Even as their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
+     Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
+     That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild,
+     All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
+     And all the waves did strew,
+     That like old Peneus{21} waters they did seeme,
+     When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,
+     Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,
+     That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store,
+     Like a brydes chambre flore.
+     Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound
+     Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,
+     The which presenting all in trim array,
+     Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd
+     Whilst one did sing this lay,
+     Prepar'd against that day,
+     Against their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament
+     "And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower
+     "Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower,
+     "Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content
+     "Of your loves couplement;{22}
+     "And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love,
+     "With her heart-quelling Sonne{23} upon you smile,
+     "Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove
+     "All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile
+     "Forever to assoile.{24}
+     "Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord,
+     "And blessed plentie wait upon your bord{25};
+     "And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
+     "That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
+     "Which may your foes confound
+     "And make your ioyes redound
+     "Upon your brydale day, which is not long."
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     So ended she; and all the rest around
+     To her redoubled{26} that her undersong,
+     Which said, their brydale day should not be long:
+     And gentle Eccho from the neighbour{27} ground
+     Their accents did resound.
+     So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along
+     Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low,
+     As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,
+     Yet did by signes his glad affection show,
+     Making his streame run slow.
+     And all the foule which in his flood did dwell
+     Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell
+     The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend{28}
+     The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,
+     Did on those two attend,
+     And their best service lend
+     Against their wedding day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     At length they all to mery London came,
+     To mery London, my most kyndly nurse,{29}
+     That to me gave this lifes first native sourse,
+     Though from another place I take my name,
+     An house of auncient fame;
+     There when they came, whereas those bricky towres
+     The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde,
+     Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,{30}
+     There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,
+     Till they decayd through pride;
+     Next whereunto there standes a stately place,{31}
+     Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
+     Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
+     Whose want too well now feels my freendles case;{32}
+     But ah! here fits not well{33}
+     Old woes, but ioyes, to tell
+     Against the brydale daye, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer,{34}
+     Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder,
+     Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine{35} did thunder,
+     And Hercules two Pillors{36} standing neere
+     Did make to quake and feare:
+     Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie!
+     That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,
+     Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie,
+     And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
+     That promiseth the same;
+     That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,
+     Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes,
+     And great Elisaes glorious name may ring
+     Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,
+     Which some brave muse may sing
+     To ages following,
+     Upon the brydale day which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     From those high towers this noble lord issuing,
+     Like radiant Hesper,{37} when his golden hare
+     In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,
+     Descended to the rivers open vewing,
+     With a great train ensuing.
+     Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
+     Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
+     Beseeming well the bower of any queene,
+     With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
+     Fit for so goodly stature,
+     That like the Twins of Iove{38} they seem'd in sight,
+     Which decke the bauldricke{39} of the heavens bright;
+     They two forth pacing to the rivers side,
+     Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight;
+     Which,{40} at th' appointed tyde,
+     Each one did make his Bryde
+     Against their brydale day, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595.
+The word _prothalamium_ is from Gr. _pro_, for, and _thalamos_, a
+bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song
+than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written--earlier in the
+same year--the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing
+of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very
+ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad,"
+XVIII, 493:
+
+     "And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;
+      In one were marriage pomp and revelry,
+      And brides, in gay procession, through the streets
+      With blazing torches from their chambers borne,
+      While frequent rose the hymeneal song."
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38.
+
+1. =Titans.= The word is used for Helios, the son of the Titans, Hyperion
+and Thea. Observe that the apostrophe, as the sign of the possessive
+case, is never used by Spenser.
+
+=glyster.= Glisten, shine. From A.-S. _glisnian_, glow, or shine with a
+soft light.
+
+     "All that glisters is not gold."
+          --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act ii, sc. vii.
+
+     "Know one false step is ne'er retrieved . . .
+      Nor all that glisters gold."
+                             --_Gray_, _On a Favourite Cat, etc._
+
+=fayre.= Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage,
+but not current in Spenser's time.
+
+2. =princes court.= Spenser had had experience of the many bitter
+disappointments which befall him who seeks the favor of royalty. In
+"Mother Hubbard's Tale" he complains in this wise:
+
+     "Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
+      What hell it is in suing long to bide:
+      To lose good dayes that might be better spent;
+      To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
+      To speed today, to be put back tomorrow;
+      To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
+      To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;
+      To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;
+      To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
+      To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
+      To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne;
+      To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne."
+
+3. =silver streaming Themmes.= Sir John Denham's apostrophe to the Thames
+is well known:
+
+     "Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
+      My great example, as it is my theme!
+      Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
+      Strong without rage; without overflowing full."
+                                          --_Cooper's Hill_, 189.
+
+And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms:
+
+     "No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
+      No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear."
+                                         --_Windsor Forest_, 227.
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi.
+
+4. =rutty.= Rooty.
+
+5. =Against.= For, or in preparation for; to provide for. Compare Genesis
+xliii. 25: "And they made ready the present against Joseph came at
+noon." And Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act iii, sc. ii:
+
+     "I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."
+
+6. =Flood.= This word was often used, as here, to denote simply a river.
+Pope addresses the river Thames:
+
+     "Thou, too, great father of the British floods!"
+
+7. =all loose untyde.= Steevens says: "Brides formerly walked to church
+with their hair hanging loose behind."
+
+8. =entrayled.= Twisted, interlaced.
+
+9. =flasket.= A long, shallow basket. Not used here as the diminutive of
+_flask_. Hales says it is the name given by the fishermen of Cornwall to
+the vessel in which the fish are transferred from the seine to the
+"tuck-net."
+
+10. =cropt.= Gathered, Dutch _krappen_, to cut off.
+
+=feateously.= Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer:
+
+     "And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly."
+                                       --_Canterbury Tales_, 124.
+
+     "A chambre had he in that hostelrie
+      Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote."
+                                                 --_Ibid._, 3205.
+
+11. =on hye.= In haste. Probably the same as _hie_, haste.
+
+12. =pallid.= Pale.
+
+13. =primrose trew.= Compare Milton's "Lycidas," 142:
+
+     "The rathe primrose that forsaken dies."
+
+And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii;
+
+     "Pale primroses that die unmarried."
+
+14. =store.= Abundance.
+
+=vermeil.= Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun.
+
+15. =posies.= "Posy originally meant verses presented with a nosegay or a
+bunch of flowers, and hence the term came to be applied to the flowers
+themselves."
+
+16. =With that.= At the same time.
+
+=Swannes.= "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says:
+'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and
+their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their
+course.'"--_Knight's Cyclopedia of London._
+
+17. =lee.= Water, or river. See "Faerie Queene," V, ii, 19:
+
+     "His corps was carried downe along the lee,
+      Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned."
+
+Also, _Ibid._, IV, ii, 16:
+
+     "As when two warlike brigandines at sea,
+      With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,
+      Do meete together on the watry lea."
+
+The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in
+England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe.
+
+18. =nor nothing near.= In early English two negatives did not destroy
+each other, as now, but made the negation more emphatic.
+
+19. =Eftsoones.= Soon after. From A.-S. _eft_, after, and _sona_, soon.
+
+20. =Somers-heat.= The two ladies celebrated in this poem, it will be
+remembered, were Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset.
+
+21. The Peneus river, the most important stream in Thessaly, forces its
+way through the Vale of Tempe, between Mounts Ossa and Olympus, into the
+sea.
+
+22. =loves couplement.= Marriage.
+
+23. =heart-quelling Sonne.= Cupid.
+
+24. =assoile.= Free from, put off.
+
+     "Through long watch, and late daies weary toile,
+      She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile."
+                                   --_Faerie Queene_, III, i, 58.
+
+25. =bord.= "Bed" and "board" are two associated terms, very frequently
+so used, which imply the performance of the two acts necessary for the
+maintenance of life--sleeping and eating. See Shakespeare's "Comedy of
+Errors," Act v, sc. i:
+
+     "In bed he slept not for my urging it,
+      At board he fed not for my urging it."
+
+Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv:
+
+     "Wedding is great Juno's crown--
+      O blessed bond of board and bed!"
+
+26. =redoubled.= Repeated.
+
+=undersong.= Refrain, burden.
+
+27. =neighbour.= See note 10, on Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night."
+
+28. =shend.= Outshine, shame, disgrace. From A.-S. _scendan_.
+
+29. =my most kyndly nurse.= Although born in London, the poet was
+"descended from the ancient and honourable family of Spencer, of
+Althorpe in Northamptonshire."
+
+30. "When the order of the Knights Templar was suppressed in Edward the
+Second's reign, their London estate on the bank of the Thames was given
+over to the Knights of St. John; by these it was leased to the students
+of the Common Law, who, not finding a home at Cambridge or Oxford, were
+at that time in want of a habitation."--_Hales._
+
+31. =stately place.= This stood in the gardens where the Outer Temple
+should have been. In 1580 it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, and
+here Spenser was for a time entertained, as he asserts in the following
+line. The great lord whom he mentions was Leicester.
+
+32. "The want of whom I feel too well in my present friendless
+condition."
+
+33. =fits not well.= It is not proper.
+
+34. =nobler peer.= The Earl of Essex.
+
+35. Macaulay says of Lord Essex's expedition against Spain, in 1596,
+that it was "the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on
+the Continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed
+between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim."
+
+36. =Hercules two Pillors.= The rocky capes on either side of the Strait
+of Gibraltar. It was said that Hercules erected them to mark the western
+limit of his wanderings.
+
+37. =Hesper.= Hesperus was the evening star, also sometimes regarded as
+the morning star, and hence called by Homer the bringer of light. See
+note on Lucifer, page 80 and page 189.
+
+38. =Twins of Iove.= Castor and Pollux. Two heroic brothers who as a
+reward of their devotion to each other were placed among the stars in
+the constellation Gemini.
+
+39. =bauldricke.= Belt, girdle, or sash. The "bauldricke of the heavens"
+is the zodiac.
+
+40. =Which.= In early English this pronoun was very commonly used instead
+of _who_ when referring to persons.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND SPENSER was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated
+at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University,
+where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first
+poetical performances--translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay--were
+published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author.
+At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and
+Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students
+who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney
+at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the
+house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published,
+but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards
+Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as
+secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the
+exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his
+life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a
+grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he
+wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they
+were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh,
+who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he
+married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English
+settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and
+published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the
+same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his
+"Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and
+marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the
+half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely interrupted by the
+breaking out of an insurrection among the Irish. In 1598 Spenser's house
+was sacked and burned by the rebels, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that he and his family escaped with their lives. Indeed, it
+is stated, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that one little child
+perished in the flames. Spenser returned to London in poverty and great
+distress, and on the 16th of January, 1599, he died in King Street,
+Westminster. He was buried in the Abbey.
+
+Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says
+Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren
+than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton,
+Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as
+the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling
+him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to
+think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he
+became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said
+he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young.
+Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior
+writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made
+use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him."
+
+Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And
+Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he.
+
+With reference to the peculiar forms of language--comparatively obsolete
+even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed--which are so marked a
+characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose
+for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry,
+and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older
+forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as
+to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and
+dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his
+vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly,
+the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus
+of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language
+may have seemed the one language of English poetry."
+
+
+REFERENCES: Warton's _History of English Poetry_; Hazlitt's _Lectures on
+the English Poets_; Craik's _Spenser and his Poetry_; Morley's _English
+Writers_.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Wyatt.
+
+
+
+
+A LOVE SONG.
+
+THE LOVER COMPLAINETH OF THE UNKINDNESS OF HIS LOVE.
+
+
+     My lute, awake! perform the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And end that I have now begun:
+     And when this song is sung and past,
+     My lute! be still, for I have done.
+
+     As to be heard where ear is none;
+     As lead to grave in marble stone,
+     My song may pierce her heart as soon;
+     Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
+     No, no, my lute! for I have done.
+
+     The rock doth not so cruelly,
+     Repulse the waves continually,
+     As she my suit and affection:
+     So that I am past remedy;
+     Whereby my lute and I have done.
+
+     Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
+     Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
+     By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;
+     Think not he hath his bow forgot,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
+     That makest but game of earnest pain;
+     Trow not alone under the sun
+     Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     May chance thee lie withered and old
+     In winter nights, that are so cold,
+     Plaining in vain unto the moon;
+     Thy wishes then dare not be told:
+     Care then who list, for I have done.
+
+     And then may chance thee to repent
+     The time that thou hast lost and spent,
+     To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:
+     Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
+     And wish and want, as I have done.
+
+     Now cease, my lute! This is the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And ended is that we begun:
+     Now is thy song both sung and past;
+     My lute, be still, for I have done.
+
+
+
+
+THE COURTIER'S LIFE.
+
+
+     In court to serve, decked with fresh array,
+     Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast;
+     The life in banquets and sundry kinds of play,
+     Amid the press of worldly looks to waste:
+     Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste,
+       That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,
+       In prison joyes, fettered with chains of gold.
+
+
+
+
+The Earl of Surrey.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S "ÆNEID."
+
+
+     --At the threshold of her chamber door
+     The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend:
+     The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapped,
+     Chewing the foaming bit there fiercely stood.
+     Then issued she, awaited with great train,
+     Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroidered rich.
+     Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress
+     Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke
+     Buttoned with gold. The Trojans of her train
+     Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.
+     Æneas eke, the goodliest of the rout,
+     Makes one of them, and joineth close the throng.
+     Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,
+     His wint'ring place, and Xanthus, stood likewise,
+     To visit Delos his mother's mansion,
+     Repairing eft and furnishing her quire.
+     The Candians and the folk of Driopes,
+     With painted Agathyrsi shout and cry,
+     Environing the altars round about,
+     When that he walks upon Mount Cynthus' top,
+     His sparkled tress repressed with garlands soft
+     Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold,
+     His quiver and darts clattering behind his back--
+     So fresh and lusty did Æneas seem.
+     But to the hills and wild holts when they came
+     From the rock's top the driven savage rose.
+     So, from the hills above on the other side,
+     Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.
+     The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight,
+     Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.
+     The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed
+     Amids the plain, now pricks by them, by these;
+     And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind,
+     The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts,
+     Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written
+in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.
+
+
+
+
+A SONNET.
+
+DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE GERALDINE.
+
+
+     From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race;
+       Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat;
+     The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face
+       Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat:
+     Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast;
+       Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood:
+     From tender years, in Britain she doth rest
+       With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.
+     Hunsdon did first present her to my een:
+       Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight:
+     Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:
+       And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.
+     Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above;
+     Happy is he that can obtain her love.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.
+
+
+     Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest:
+       Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
+     And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
+       Such profit he by envy could obtain.
+
+     A head where wisdom mysteries did frame,
+       Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain,
+     As on a stithe where that some work of fame
+       Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.
+
+     A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;
+       That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
+     A mark, the which (unperfected for time)
+       Some may approach, but never none shall hit.
+
+     An eye whose judgment none effect could blind,
+       Friends to allure and foes to reconcile,
+     Whose piercing look did represent a mind
+       With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.
+
+     A heart where dread was never so imprest
+       To hide the thought that might the truth advance;
+     In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,
+       To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.
+
+     A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met,
+       Happy alas, too happy but for foes,
+     Lived, and ran the race that nature set
+       Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.
+
+     Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost;
+     The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.
+
+WYATT and SURREY are usually named together as the most illustrious
+poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins
+calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"
+he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of
+Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers--the period
+which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and
+Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they
+were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller,
+Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's
+translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "Æneid" (1552) is
+the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THOMAS WYATT was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was
+a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was
+knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of
+the same year he was sent as ambassador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was
+with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England
+he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in
+1542.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY, was born about 1517, and, like his friend
+Wyatt, passed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France
+in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its
+governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he
+was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of
+the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of
+high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal
+arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.
+
+
+
+
+Ballads.
+
+
+
+
+WALY, WALY.
+
+
+     O waly,{1} waly, up the bank,
+       O waly, waly, doun the brae,{2}
+     And waly, waly, yon burn-side,{3}
+       Where I and my love were wont to gae!
+     I lean'd my back unto an aik,
+       I thocht it was a trustie tree,
+     But first it bow'd and syne{4} it brak',--
+       Sae my true love did lichtlie{5} me.
+
+     O waly, waly, but love be bonnie
+       A little time while it is new!
+     But when it's auld it waxeth cauld,
+       And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.
+     O wherefore should I busk{6} my heid,
+       Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
+     For my true love has me forsook,
+       And says he'll never lo'e me mair.
+
+     Noo Arthur's Seat{7} sall be my bed,
+       The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me;
+     Saint Anton's well sall be my drink;
+       Since my true love's forsaken me.
+     Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
+       And shake the green leaves off the tree?
+     O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
+       For of my life I am wearie.
+
+     'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
+       Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,
+     'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;
+       But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
+     When we cam' in by Glasgow toun,
+       We were a comely sicht to see;
+     My love was clad in the black velvet,
+       And I mysel' in cramasie.
+
+     But had I wist before I kiss'd
+       That love had been so ill to win,
+     I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud,
+       And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.
+     Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
+       And set upon the nurse's knee;
+     An' I mysel' were dead and gane,
+       And the green grass growing over me!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give
+it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating
+to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The
+lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with
+those of Lord Douglas.
+
+1. =waly.= An interjection denoting grief.
+
+2. =brae.= Hillside.
+
+3. =burn-side.= Brook-side.
+
+4. =syne.= Then.
+
+5. =lichtlie.= Slight, undervalue.
+
+6. =busk.= Dress.
+
+7. =Arthur's Seat.= A hill near Edinburgh, at the foot of which is St.
+Anthony's well.
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATRICK SPENS.
+
+A SCOTTISH BALLAD.
+
+[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should
+have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland about 1285.]
+
+
+     The king sits in Dunfermline town,
+       Drinking the blude-red wine;
+     "O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
+       To sail this new ship of mine!"
+
+     O up and spake an eldern knight,
+       Sat at the king's right knee,--
+     "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
+       That ever sail'd the sea."
+
+     Our king has written a braid letter,
+       And seal'd it with his hand,
+     And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Was walking on the strand.
+
+     "To Noroway, to Noroway,
+       To Noroway o'er the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
+
+     The first word that Sir Patrick read,
+       Sae loud, loud laughed he;
+     The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
+       The tear blinded his e'e.
+
+     "O wha is this has done this deed,
+       And tauld the king o' me,
+     To send us out, at this time of the year,
+       To sail upon the sea?
+
+     "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
+       Our ship must sail the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis we must fetch her hame."
+
+     They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
+       Wi' a' the speed they may;
+     They hae landed in Noroway,
+       Upon a Wodensday.
+
+     They hadna been a week, a week,
+       In Noroway, but twae,
+     When that the lords o' Noroway
+       Began aloud to say,--
+
+     "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
+       And a' our queenis fee."
+     "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
+       Fu' loud I hear ye lie.
+
+     "For I brought as much white monie,
+       As gane my men and me,
+     And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,
+       Out o'er the sea wi' me.
+
+     "Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
+       Our gude ship sails the morn."
+     "Now, ever alake, my master dear,
+       I fear a deadly storm!
+
+     "I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
+       Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
+     And, if we gang to sea, master,
+       I fear we'll come to harm."
+
+     They had not sailed a league, a league,
+       A league but barely three,
+     When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
+       And gurly grew the sea.
+
+     The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
+       It was sic a deadly storm;
+     And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,
+       Till a' her sides were torn.
+
+     "O where will I get a gude sailor,
+       To take my helm in hand,
+     Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
+       To see if I can spy land?"
+
+     "O here am I, a sailor gude,
+       To take the helm in hand,
+     Till you go up to the tall top-mast;
+       But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
+
+     He hadna gane a step, a step,
+       A step but barely ane,
+     When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
+       And the salt sea it came in.
+
+     "Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another o' the twine,
+     And wap them into our ship's side,
+       And let na the sea come in."
+
+     They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another of the twine,
+     And wapped them round that gude ship's side,
+       But still the sea came in.
+
+     O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
+       To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!
+     But lang or a' the play was play'd,
+       They wat their hats aboon.
+
+     And mony was the feather-bed,
+       That flattered on the faem;
+     And mony was the gude lord's son,
+       That never mair cam hame.
+
+     The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
+       The maidens tore their hair,
+     A' for the sake of their true loves;
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,
+       Wi' their fans into their hand,
+     Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
+       Come sailing to the strand!
+
+     And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
+       Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
+     A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O forty miles off Aberdeen,
+       'Tis fifty fathoms deep,
+     And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
+
+
+NOTES AND GLOSSARY.
+
+This ballad in its original form is a very old one, and was probably at
+first a metrical story of the Scotch expedition which was sent to bring
+the Maid of Norway to Scotland (about the year 1285). In its
+sixteenth-century form it shows many changes and additions, some of
+which are not in harmony with the original tale. The _cork-heel'd
+shoon_, for example, were unknown until some hundreds of years later
+than the occurrence of the events here narrated.
+
+     =skeely=, skilful.
+     =skipper=, captain.
+     =braid=, open, not private.
+     =goud=, gold.
+     =fee= (see note 13, page 105).
+     =gane=, suffice.
+     =half-fou=, a quart, dry measure.
+     =alake=, alack.
+     =lift=, sky. (Still used in Scotland.)
+     =shoon=, shoes.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.
+
+
+     There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
+       And he was a squires son;
+     He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
+       That lived in Islington.
+
+     Yet she was coye, and would not believe
+       That he did love her soe,
+     Noe nor at any time would she
+       Any countenance to him showe.
+
+     But when his friendes did understand
+       His fond and foolish minde,
+     They sent him up to faire London,
+       An apprentice for to binde.
+
+     And when he had been seven long yeares,
+       And never his love could see,--
+     "Many a teare have I shed for her sake,
+       When she little thought of mee."
+
+     Then all the maids of Islington
+       Went forth to sport and playe,
+     All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
+       She secretly stole awaye.
+
+     She pulled off her gowne of greene,
+       And put on ragged attire,
+     And to faire London she would go
+       Her true love to enquire.
+
+     And as she went along the high road,
+       The weather being hot and drye,
+     She sat her downe upon a green bank,
+       And her true love came riding bye.
+
+     She started up, with a colour soe redd,
+       Catching hold of his bridle-reine;
+     "One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,
+       "Will ease me of much paine."
+
+     "Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
+       Praye tell me where you were borne."
+     "At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,
+       "Where I have had many a scorne."
+
+     "I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
+       O tell me, whether you knowe
+     The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
+       "She is dead, sir, long agoe."
+
+     "If she be dead, then take my horse,
+       My saddle and bridle also;
+     For I will into some farr countrye,
+       Where noe man shall me knowe."
+
+     "O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,
+       She standeth by thy side;
+     She is here alive, she is not dead,
+       And readye to be thy bride."
+
+     "O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
+       Ten thousand times therefore;
+     For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
+       Whom I thought I should never see more."
+
+
+
+
+ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS.
+
+
+     There are twelve months in all the year,
+       As I hear many say,
+     But the merriest month in all the year
+       Is the merry month of May.
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met a silly old woman,
+       Was weeping on the way.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old woman,
+       What news hast thou for me?"
+     Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town
+       To-day condemned to die."
+
+     "O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,
+       "Or have they ministers slain?
+     Or have they robbed any virgin?
+       Or other men's wives have ta'en?"
+
+     "They have no parishes burnt, good sir,
+       Nor yet have ministers slain,
+     Nor have they robbed any virgin,
+       Nor other men's wives have ta'en."
+
+     "O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,
+       "I pray thee tell to me."
+     "It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer,
+       Bearing their long bows with thee."
+
+     "Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,
+       "How thou madest me sup and dine?
+     By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,
+       "You could not tell it in better time."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met with a silly old palmer,
+       Was walking along the highway.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old man,
+       What news, I do thee pray?"
+     Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town
+       Are condemn'd to die this day."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old man,
+       Come change thy apparel for mine;
+     Here is ten shillings in good silvèr,
+       Go drink it in beer or wine."
+
+     "O, thine apparel is good," he said,
+       "And mine is ragged and torn;
+     Wherever you go, wherever you ride,
+       Laugh not an old man to scorn."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,
+       Come change thy apparel with mine;
+     Here is a piece of good broad gold,
+       Go feast thy brethren with wine."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hat,
+       It stood full high on the crown:
+     "The first bold bargain that I come at,
+       It shall make thee come down."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's cloak,
+       Was patch'd black, blue, and red;
+     He thought it no shame, all the day long,
+       To wear the bags of bread.
+
+     Then he put on the old man's breeks,
+       Was patch'd from leg to side:
+     "By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,
+       "This man loved little pride."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hose,
+       Were patch'd from knee to wrist:
+     "By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,
+       "I'd laugh if I had any list."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's shoes,
+       Were patch'd both beneath and aboon;
+     Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,
+       "It's good habit that makes a man."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down and a down_,
+     And there he met with the proud sheriff,
+       Was walking along the town.
+
+     "Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said;
+       "Now heaven you save and see!
+     And what will you give to a silly old man
+       To-day will your hangman be?"
+
+     "Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,
+       "Some suits I'll give to thee;
+     Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,
+       To-day's a hangman's fee."
+
+     Then Robin he turns him round about,
+       And jumps from stock to stone:
+     "By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,
+       "That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."
+
+     "I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,
+       Nor yet intends to trade;
+     But curst be he," said bold Robin,
+       "That first a hangman was made!
+
+     "I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,
+       And a bag for barley and corn;
+     And a bag for bread, and a bag for beef,
+       And a bag for my little small horn.
+
+     "I have a horn in my pockèt,
+       I got it from Robin Hood,
+     And still when I set it to my mouth,
+       For thee it blows little good."
+
+     "O, wind thy horn, thou proud fellòw!
+       Of thee I have no doubt.
+     I wish that thou give such a blast,
+       Till both thy eyes fall out."
+
+     The first loud blast that he did blow,
+       He blew both loud and shrill;
+     A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came riding over the hill.
+
+     The next loud blast that he did give,
+       He blew both loud and amain,
+     And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came shining over the plain.
+
+     "O, who are these," the sheriff he said,
+       "Come tripping over the lee?"
+     "They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;
+      "They'll pay a visit to thee."
+
+     They took the gallows from the slack,
+       They set it in the glen,
+     They hanged the proud sherìff on that,
+       Released their own three men.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Among the earliest and most popular of English ballads are those
+relating to Robin Hood. This noted, half-mythical outlaw was the
+impersonation of popular rights as they were understood by Englishmen of
+the lower orders in the days of the Plantagenets. Hence the memory of
+him and his reputed deeds was preserved in the songs of the people. "It
+is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to
+celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers,
+interests them more than any other." Even so late as the reign of Edward
+VI., "Robyn Hoode's Daye" was very generally observed in the country
+parishes as a day of feasting and amusement.
+
+The ballads were originally the production of wandering minstrels or
+gleemen, a class of men very popular in the Middle Ages, who followed
+the profession of poetry and music. These rude poets were held in the
+highest esteem and veneration by the people among whom they lived; they
+were received and welcomed wherever they went, and even kings delighted
+to honor them. In short, their art was supposed, by the Anglo-Saxons,
+to be of divine origin, having been invented by Odin, the great
+All-Father, and perfected by Bragi, the musician of the gods. As,
+however, civilization advanced and Christianity became established, this
+admiration for the minstrel and his art became modified in a degree. He
+was no longer regarded as a poet, but only as a singer, a sweet
+musician. Poetry was cultivated by men of leisure and refinement; but
+lyrical ballads remained the peculiar inheritance of the minstrel. For a
+long time after the Norman conquest, minstrels continued to gain their
+livelihood by singing in the houses of the great, and at festive
+occasions, which were never considered complete unless graced by the
+presence of these honored descendants of Bragi; nor did they cease to
+compose and sing their inimitable pieces until near the close of
+Elizabeth's reign. The greater number of the ballads now in existence
+were probably produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and
+the best of them originated in the "North Country," or the border region
+between England and Scotland. They were not at first reduced to writing,
+but were handed down from one generation to another merely by oral
+tradition. As regards their metre and versification, the ballads were
+commonly composed of iambic hexameters or heptameters rhyming in
+couplets. These couplets are readily broken into stanzas of four lines,
+in which form they are usually printed.
+
+The first collection of English ballads ever published was probably that
+of John Dryden, in 1684. The collection was included in a volume
+entitled _Miscellany Poems_. In 1723 a work called _A Collection of Old
+Ballads_ was published anonymously. In 1724 Allan Ramsay issued _The
+Evergreen_, "being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious
+before 1600." This work included many popular songs and ballads. It was
+reprinted in 1875.
+
+We owe the preservation of a large number of the most interesting and
+beautiful ballads to Bishop Percy, who, in 1765, published the first
+really valuable collection of such works in his _Reliques of Ancient
+English Poetry_. Previous to that time most of these songs had existed
+only in manuscript, or, if printed at all, in the cheapest style of
+typography, on sheets designed for circulation among the poor. Bishop
+Percy's work first called the attention of scholars to the value and
+beauty of these neglected and half-forgotten relics, and did much to
+bring about that revolution in literature which took place in the latter
+part of the last century. And it is to these old ballads, thus rescued
+from oblivion, that we owe very many of the noblest literary productions
+of the present century. We know that they were the immediate inspiration
+of Sir Walter Scott, and that they exerted a wonderful influence in
+modifying and directing the taste and style of many other distinguished
+writers.
+
+
+
+
+The Fifteenth Century.
+
+
+"_When we pass from Chaucer's age, we have to overleap nearly a hundred
+and eighty years before we alight upon a period presenting anything like
+an adequate show of literary continuation. A few smaller names are all
+that can be cited as poetical representatives of this sterile interval
+in the literary history of England: whatever of Chaucer's genius still
+lingered in the island seeming to have travelled northward and taken
+refuge in a series of Scotch poets, excelling any of their English
+contemporaries. We are driven to suppose that there was something in the
+social circumstances of England during the long period in question which
+prevented such talent as there was from assuming the particular form of
+literature. Fully to make out what this 'something' was may baffle us;
+but, when we remember that this was the period of the Civil Wars of the
+Roses, we have reason to believe that the dearth of pure literature may
+have been owing, in part, to the engrossing nature of the practical
+questions which then disturbed English society. . . . Accordingly,
+though printing was introduced during this period, and thus Englishmen
+had greater temptations to write, what they did write was almost
+exclusively plain grave prose, intended for practical or polemical
+occasions, and making no figure in a historical retrospect._"--DAVID
+MASSON.
+
+"_Must we quote all these good people who have nothing to say? . . .
+dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming
+chroniclers, most commonplace of men; spinners and spinsters of didactic
+poems who pile up verses on the training of falcons, on heraldry, on
+chemistry, . . . invent the same dream over again for the hundredth
+time, and get themselves taught universal history by the goddess
+Sapience. . . . It is the scholastic phase of poetry._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Fifteenth Century.
+
+=John Lydgate= (1370-1440). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Thomas Occleve= (1365-1450). "De Regimine Principum"; short poems.
+
+=Robert Henryson= (1425-1480). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=William Dunbar= (1450-1513). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Gawain Douglas= (1474-1522). See biographical note, page 284.
+
+=Stephen Hawes= (    -1530), "The Pastime of Pleasure"; "Graunde Amour
+and la Belle Pucel."
+
+=John Skelton= (1460-1529). See biographical note, page 272.
+
+
+
+
+John Skelton.
+
+
+
+
+TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
+
+
+       Mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre;
+       Jentill as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+     With solace and gladnes,
+     Moche mirthe and no madness,
+     All good and no badness,
+       So joyously,
+       So maydenly,
+       So womanly,
+       Her demenyng
+       In every thynge,
+       Far, far passynge
+       That I can endyght,
+       Or suffyce to wryghte,
+       Of mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+       As pacient and as styll,
+       And as full of good wyll
+       As faire Isaphill;
+       Colyaunder,
+       Swete pomaunder,
+       Goode Cassaunder;
+       Stedfast of thought,
+       Wele made, wele wrought;
+       Far may be sought,
+       Erst that ye can fynde
+       So corteise, so kynde,
+       As mirry Margaret,
+       This mydsomer floure,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre.
+
+
+
+
+CARDINAL WOLSEY.
+
+[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?"]
+
+
+     He is set so hye
+     In his ierarchye
+     Of frantike frenesy,
+     And folish fantasy,
+     That in chambre of stars{1}
+     Al maters ther he mars,
+     Clapping his rod on the borde,
+     No man dare speake a worde:
+     For he hath al the saying
+     Without any renaying.
+     He rolleth in his Recordes;
+     He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?
+     Is not my reason good?"
+     Good!--even good--_Robin Hood_!--
+     Borne up on every syde
+     With pompe and with pryde,
+     With trump up alleluya,{2}
+     For dame Philargyria{3}
+     Hath so his hart in hold.
+     Adew, Philosophia!
+     Adew, Theologia!
+     Welcome, dame Simonia,{4}
+     With dame Castamergia,{5}
+     To drink and for to eate,
+     Sweete ipocras{6} and sweete meate.
+     To keep his fleshe chaste
+     In Lente, for his repaste
+     He eateth capons stewed,
+     Fesaunt and partriche mewed--
+     Spareth neither mayd ne wife--
+     This is a postel's{7} life!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =chambre of stars.= The Star Chamber, a court of civil and criminal
+jurisdiction for the punishment of offences for which the law made no
+provision. It was so called because the ceiling of the room in which it
+was held was decorated with gilt stars.
+
+2. =alleluya.= In allusion to the pomp with which Wolsey celebrated divine
+service.
+
+3. =Philargyria.= Love of money; covetousness.
+
+4. =Simonia.= Simony; buying and selling church livings.
+
+5. =Castamergia.= Gluttony. Greek _kastrimargia_. A not uncommon word
+among the monks of the Middle Ages, one of whose prayers was, "From the
+spirit of castrimargia, O Lord, deliver us!"
+
+6. =ipocras.= Hippocras, or spiced wine, a drink formerly very popular in
+England. It was made by mixing Canary and Lisbon wines, in equal parts,
+with various kinds of sweet spices, and allowing the whole to stand for
+a few days, after which the wine was poured off and sweetened with
+sugar.
+
+7. =postel.= Apostle--here ironically applied to Wolsey.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN SKELTON was born about the year 1460. In his earlier life he was
+the friend of Caxton, the first English printer, and of Percy, Earl of
+Northumberland. He was poet-laureate under Henry VII., and tutor of the
+young prince (afterwards Henry VIII.), and was described by Erasmus as
+_litterarum Anglicarum lumen et decus_. Later in life he was promoted to
+the rectory of Diss in Norfolk, but was severely censured by his bishop
+for his buffooneries in the pulpit and his satirical ballads against the
+mendicants. He finally became a hanger-on about the court of Henry
+VIII.; and, daring to write a rhyming libel on Cardinal Wolsey, was
+driven to take refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. There he
+was kindly entertained and protected by Abbot Islip until his death in
+1529. Some of his poems were printed in 1512, and others in 1568.
+
+Taine calls Skelton "a virulent pamphleteer, who jumbles together
+French, English, Latin phrases, with slang and fashionable words,
+invented words, intermingled with short rhymes. Style, metre, rhyme,
+language, art of every kind, at an end; beneath the vain parade of
+official style there is only a heap of rubbish. Yet, as he says,
+
+     'Though my rhyme be ragged,
+      Tatter'd and jagged,
+      Rudely rain-beaten,
+      Rusty, moth-eaten,
+      Yf ye take welle therewithe,
+      It hath in it some pithe.'"
+
+As to the coarseness which characterizes his verses, it cannot be
+explained by saying that it is a reflection of the manners of the times
+in which he lived. For, as Warton says, Skelton "would have been a
+writer without decorum at any period." Yet, notwithstanding his faults,
+he is deserving of our notice, if for nothing else, on account of the
+complete originality of his style--a style unknown and unattempted by
+any former writer. His bold departure from the accepted rules of
+versification showed to those who followed him some of the possibilities
+in English poetical composition, and helped to open the way to the great
+outburst of song which followed.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from Four Minor Poets.
+
+
+
+
+A VISIT TO LONDON.
+
+BY JOHN LYDGATE.
+
+
+     Then unto London I dyd me hye,
+     Of all the land it beareth the pryse:
+     "Hot pescodes," one began to crye,
+     "Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse";
+     One bade me come nere and by some spyce,
+     Peper and safforne they gan me bede,
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,
+     Where mutch people I saw for to stand;
+     One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,
+     An other he taketh me by the hande,
+     "Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land";
+     I never was used to such thyngs indede,
+     And wanting mony, I might not spede.
+
+     Then went I forth by London stone,
+     Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;
+     Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;
+     Then comes me one, cryed, "Hot shepes feete";
+     One cryde "makerell," "ryshes grene," an other gan greete;
+     One bad me by a hood to cover my head,
+     But for want of mony I myght not be sped.
+
+     Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;
+     One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:
+     Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;
+     There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.
+     "Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye;
+     Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,
+     Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;
+     I saw where honge myne owne hoode,
+     That I had lost amonge the thronge;
+     To by my own hood I thought it wronge,
+     I knew it well as I dyd my crede,
+     But for lack of mony I could not spede.
+
+     The taverner tooke me by the sleve,
+     "Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay"?
+     I answered, "That can not mutch me greve:
+     A peny can do no more than it may";
+     I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;
+     Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,
+     And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.
+
+     Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;
+     And one cryed, "Hoo! go we hence!"
+     I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,
+     That he wold spare me my expence.
+     "Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under two pence;
+     I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede."
+     Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.
+
+     Then I convayd me into Kent;
+     For of the law wold I meddle no more;
+     Because no man to me tooke entent,
+     I dyght me to do as I dyd before.
+     Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,
+     Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!
+     For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.
+
+--_From "London Lickpenny."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =anone=, at once.
+     =assay=, try.
+     =bede=, offer.
+     =Chepe=, the market. Cheapside, still a famous street in London.
+     =dyght=, disposed.
+     =gere=, apparel.
+     =greete=, cry out.
+     =hyed=, hurried.
+     =lyst=, wish.
+     =mede=, reward, wages.
+     =pescodes=, pease.
+     =ryse=, bough or twig.
+     =ryshes=, rushes.
+     =spede=, proceed, do.
+     =yede=, went.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN AGE.
+
+
+     Rightwisenes chastised al robbours,
+     By egall balaunce of execucion,
+     Fraud, falsë mede, put backward fro jurours,
+     True promes holde, made no delacioun;
+     Forswearing shamed durst enter in no toun,
+     Nor lesingmongers, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     That golden world could lovë God and drede,
+     All the seven dedes of mercy for to use,
+     The rich was ready to do almës dede,
+     Who asked harbour, men did him not refuse;
+     No man of malice would other tho accuse,
+     Defame his neighbour, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     The true marchant by measure bought and sold,
+     Deceipt was none in the artificer,
+     Making no balkes, the plough was truely hold,
+     Abacke stode Idlenes, farre from labourer,
+     Discrecion marcial at diner and supper,
+     Content with measure, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     Of wast in clothing was that time none excesse;
+     Men might the lord from his subjectës know;
+     A difference made twene povertie and richesse,
+     Twene a princesse and other statës lowe;
+     Of horned boastës no boast was tho blowe,
+     Nor counterfeit feining, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     This golden world long whylë dyd endure,
+     Was none allay in that metall sene,
+     Tyll Saturne ceased, by record of scripture,
+     Jupiter reygned, put out his father clene,
+     Chaunged obrison into silver shene,
+     Al up so downe, because Attemperaunce
+     Was set asyde, and loste her governaunce.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"The Falls of Princes," from which this is an extract, was printed in
+folio in 1558. Its complete title is, "The Tragedies gathered by Jhon
+Bochas of all such Princes as fell from theyr Estates throughe the
+Mutability of Fortune since the creation of Adam until his time; wherin
+may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable
+warninges howe the like may be avoyded. Translated into English by John
+Lidgate, Monke of Burye."
+
+
+
+
+THE GARMOND OF FAIR LADIES.
+
+BY ROBERT HENRYSON.
+
+
+     Wald my gud lady lufe me best,
+       And wirk eftir my will,
+     I suld ane Garmond gudliest
+       Gar mak hir body till.
+
+     Off hie honour suld be hir hud,
+       Upoun hir heid to weir,
+     Garneist with governance so gud,
+       Na demyng suld hir deir.
+
+     Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,
+       Of chestetie so quhyt,
+     With schame and dreid togidder mixt,
+       The same suld be perfyt.
+
+     Hir kirtill suld be of clene constance,
+       Lasit with lesum lufe,
+     The mailyheis of continuance
+       For nevir to remufe.
+
+     Hir gown suld be of gudliness
+       Weill ribband with renowne,
+     Purfillit with plesour in ilk place,
+       Furrit with fyne fassoun.
+
+     Hir belt suld be of benignitie,
+       About hir middill meit;
+     Hir mantill of humilitie,
+       To tholl bayth wind and weit.
+
+     Hir hat suld be of fair having
+       And her tepat of trewth,
+     Hir patelet of gude pansing,
+       Hir hals-ribbane of rewth.
+
+     Hir slevis suld be of esperance,
+       To keip hir fra dispair;
+     Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance,
+       To hyd hir fyngearis fair.
+
+     Hir schone suld be of sickernes,
+       In syne that scho nocht slyd;
+     Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges,
+       I suld for hir provyd.
+
+     Wald scho put on this Garmond gay,
+       I durst sweir by my seill,
+     That scho woir nevir grene nor gray
+       That set hir half so weill.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =esperance=, hope.
+     =fassoun=, manners.
+     =garmond=, garment, costume.
+     =governance=, discretion.
+     =hals-ribbane=, neck-ribbon.
+     =hoiss=, hose.
+     =hud=, hood.
+     =kirtill=, skirt.
+     =lasit=, fastened.
+     =lesum=, lawful.
+     =lufe=, love.
+     =mailyheis=, eyelet-holes.
+     =pansing=, thought.
+     =patelet=, ruffet.
+     =quhyt=, white.
+     =rewth=, pity.
+     =sark=, shirt, chemise.
+     =scho=, she.
+     =schone=, shoes.
+     =seill=, knowledge.
+     =set=, suited.
+     =sickernes=, security.
+     =suld=, should.
+     =tepat=, tippet.
+     =tholl=, withstand.
+     =weit=, rain.
+
+
+
+
+A MAY MORNING.
+
+BY WILLIAM DUNBAR.
+
+
+     Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past
+       And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,
+     Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,
+       And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
+       Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
+     Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
+     Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:
+
+     In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
+       Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene
+     In at the window lukit by the day,
+       And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;
+       On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,
+     Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering
+     Sé hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.
+
+     Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,
+       In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,
+     Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude
+       In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new
+       Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,
+     Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;
+     Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.
+
+     Slugird, scho said, awalk annone for schame,
+       And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;
+     The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,
+       To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt;
+       Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
+     Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
+     Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.
+
+     Then callit scho all flouris that grew on feild
+       Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris
+     Upone the awfull Thrissil scho beheld
+       And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;
+       Considering him so able for the weiris
+     A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,
+     And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:
+
+     And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;
+       Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce
+     As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;
+       And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,
+       Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;
+     Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
+     Compair hir to the lilleis nobilness.
+
+     Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty
+       As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:
+     For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;
+       Considring that no flour is so perfyt,
+       So full of vertew, pleasans, and delyt,
+     So full of blisful angeilik bewty,
+     Imperiall birth, honour and dignité.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This is a selection from the long allegorical poem, "The Thistle and the
+Rose." The thistle represents Scotland, of which country that plant is
+the national emblem. The fleur-de-lis, or lily, represents France; and
+the rose, England. The poem was written in celebration of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret of England, and the
+friendly relations thus established for a time between those two
+countries.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =denty=, favor.
+     =effeiris=, affairs.
+     =ene=, eyes.
+     =fallow=, betroth.
+     =forgit=, made, created.
+     =gife=, if.
+     =halsit=, hailed.
+     =houris=, morning orisons.
+     =laif=, rest.
+     =lemys=, rays.
+     =lukit=, looked.
+     =mansuetude=, gentleness.
+     =morrow=, morning.
+     =muddir=, mother.
+     =orient=, eastern.
+     =quhen=, when.
+     =quhois=, whose.
+     =quhyll=, while.
+     =rois=, rose.
+     =sic=, such.
+     =speiris=, spears.
+     =splene=, heart.
+     =thrissil=, thistle.
+     =udir=, other.
+     =weid=, garments.
+     =weiris=, wars.
+
+
+
+
+IN PRAISE OF HONOUR.
+
+BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS.
+
+
+       O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour degest,
+     Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest.
+     For hie renoun thow art guerdoun conding,
+     Of worschip kend the glorious end and rest,
+     But quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest.
+     Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing,
+     And pouerall to mekill auaill sone bring.
+     I the require sen thow but peir art best,
+     That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.
+
+       Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis,
+     That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis,
+     Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.
+     He docht richt nocht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis;
+     Thy name but blame, and royal fame diuine is;
+     Thow port at schort of our comfort and reid,
+     Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid,
+     All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,
+     O schene I mene, nane may sustene thy feid.
+
+       Haill rois maist chois till clois thy fois greit micht,
+     Haill stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht,
+     Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice,
+     Was ay ilk day gar say the way of licht;
+     Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt.
+     Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise,
+     Till be supplie, and the high gre of price.
+     Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,
+     For I apply schortlie to thy deuise.
+                                 --_From "The Palice of Honour."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =afoir=, before.
+     =auance=, advance.
+     =ay=, ever, always.
+     =but=, without.
+     =conding=, condign, worthy.
+     =crynis=, diminishes.
+     =deid=, death.
+     =degest=, grave.
+     =dicht=, relieve.
+     =docht=, avails.
+     =feid=, hatred.
+     =fois=, time.
+     =glaiding=, happiness.
+     =gloir=, glory.
+     =grant=, giving.
+     =gre=, degree.
+     =guerdoun=, reward.
+     =ilk=, any.
+     =mekill=, much, mickle.
+     =peir=, peer.
+     =poureall=, the poor.
+     =puissance=, power.
+     =quhilk=, who, which.
+     =quhome=, without whom.
+     =reid=, advice.
+     =rois=, king.
+     =sanct=, saint.
+     =site=, shame.
+     =till=, to.
+     =tite=, quickly.
+     =tynis=, loses.
+     =wicht=, person, wight.
+
+
+
+
+FOUR POETS OF THIS CENTURY.
+
+
+JOHN LYDGATE was born at the village of Lydgate, near Newmarket, about
+1370. He was a Benedictine monk attached to the monastery of Bury St.
+Edmunds, and is remembered as the author of three poems, which, in their
+time, attracted much attention. These are "The Storie of Thebes,"
+written in ten-syllable rhyming couplets, and founded upon the "Teseide"
+of Boccaccio; the "Troye Book," finished about 1420, and relating the
+story of the Trojan war as recounted by Guido di Colonna in his Latin
+prose history of Troy; and "The Falls of Princes," founded on a French
+version of Boccaccio's "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium." In 1433, Lydgate
+wrote a wearisome but somewhat amusing poem, "Pur le Roy," describing a
+visit to London, and the pageants, processions, and other rejoicings, on
+the occasion of the entrance of Henry VI. into the city after his
+coronation. The date of the poet's death is not exactly known, but it
+was probably not later than 1440.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT HENRYSON, "an accomplished man and a good and genuine poet," was
+born about the year 1425, and died near the close of the century. He was
+for a time a schoolmaster and notary public at Dunfermline, in Scotland,
+and was connected, in some capacity, with the University of Glasgow. He
+was probably, like Lydgate, a Benedictine monk. His principal works are
+"The Testament of Cresseid," a sequel to Chaucer's "Troilus and
+Cresseide," and a collection of thirteen fables. He wrote also many
+shorter poems, of which the ballad of "Robin and Makyne" (published in
+Percy's _Reliques_) is the best known.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WILLIAM DUNBAR was born in East Lothian, Scotland, about the year 1450.
+He was educated at the University of St. Andrews, and in early life
+travelled somewhat extensively as a novitiate of the order of St.
+Francis. He visited England in 1501, upon the occasion of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry
+VII. One of his best poems, "The Thistle and the Rose," was written in
+commemoration of that event. He accompanied the queen to Aberdeen in
+1511, and for some time, both before and after, was in attendance and
+favor at the Scotch court. Nothing is known of his death, but it has
+been conjectured that he fell in the battle of Flodden, in 1513.
+Besides the poem just mentioned, he wrote "The Golden Targe," "The Dance
+of the Deadly Sins," and many shorter poems, most of which are
+allegories. The "Thistle and the Rose" has been pronounced "the happiest
+political allegory in our language. Heraldry has never been more
+skilfully handled, nor compliments more gracefully paid, nor fidelity
+more persuasively preached to a monarch than in this poem."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GAWAIN DOUGLAS was a son of the famous Earl of Angus, and was born in
+Brechin, Scotland, about 1474. He was educated partly at the University
+of St. Andrews, and partly in Paris. His first considerable poem, "The
+Palice of Honour," was published in 1501, and dedicated to King James
+IV. It is an allegory, such as was at that time the staple of poetical
+composition, and contains but little that is particularly original.
+Another allegory, printed after his death, is entitled "King Hart," and
+has for its subject the heart of man. His greatest work is his
+translation of Virgil's "Æneid" into Scottish verse. In 1509, Douglas
+was appointed provost of St. Giles, Edinburgh, and after the battle of
+Flodden he was made abbot of Aberbrothwick. In 1515 he was consecrated
+Bishop of Dunkeld, but was unable to gain possession of the cathedral
+except by force. Becoming involved in the feud between the rival
+families of Angus and Hamilton, he was obliged to escape into England in
+1521, where towards the end of the same year he died.
+
+
+
+
+The Fourteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In the fourteenth century there comes an Englishman nourished on this
+[the romance] poetry, taught his trade by this poetry, getting words,
+rhyme, metre from this poetry; for even of that stanza which the
+Italians used, and which Chaucer derived immediately from the Italians,
+the basis and suggestion was probably given in France. . . . If we ask
+ourselves wherein consists the immense superiority of Chaucer's poetry
+over the [earlier] romance-poetry, why it is that in passing from this
+to Chaucer we suddenly feel ourselves to be in another world, we shall
+find that his superiority is both in the substance of his poetry and in
+the style of his poetry. His superiority in substance is given by his
+large, free, simple, clear yet kindly view of human life. . . . We have
+only to call to mind the Prologue to 'The Canterbury Tales.' The right
+comment upon it is Dryden's: 'It is sufficient to say, according to the
+proverb, that _here is God's plenty_.' And again: 'He is a perpetual
+fountain of good sense.' It is by a large, free, sound representation of
+things, that poetry, this high criticism of life, has truth of
+substance; and Chaucer's poetry has truth of substance. If we think of
+Chaucer's divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity of movement,
+it is difficult to speak temperately. They are irresistible, and justify
+all the rapture with which his successors speak of his gold 'dew-drops
+of speech.' . . . Chaucer is the father of our splendid English poetry,
+he is our 'well of English undefiled,' because by the lovely charm of
+his diction, the lovely charm of his movement, he makes an epoch and
+founds a tradition. In Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, we can
+follow the tradition of the liquid diction, the fluid movement, of
+Chaucer; at one time it is his liquid diction of which in these poets we
+feel the virtue, and at another it is his fluid movement. And the virtue
+is irresistible._"--MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+
+Poets of the Fourteenth Century.
+
+=Geoffrey Chaucer= (1328-1400). See biographical note, page 301.
+
+=William Langland= (1332-    ). "The Vision of William concerning Piers the
+Ploughman."
+
+=John Gower= (1330-1408). "Confessio Amantis."
+
+
+
+
+Geoffrey Chaucer.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES."
+
+
+     Whan that Aprille with his schowrës swoote
+     The drought of Marche had perced to the roote,
+     And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
+     Of which vertue engendred is the flour;
+     Whan Zephirus eek with his swetë breethe
+     Enspired hath in every holte and heethe
+     The tendre croppës, and the yongë sonne
+     Hath in the Ram{1} his halfë cours i-ronne,{2}
+     And smalë fowlës maken melodie,
+     That slepen al the night with open eye,
+     So priketh hem nature in here corages:--
+     Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
+     And palmers for to seeken{3} straungë strondes,
+     To fernë halwes, kouthe in sondry londes;
+     And specially, from every schirës ende
+     Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
+     The holy blisful martir{4} for to seeke,
+     That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.{5}
+       Byfel that, in that sesoun on a day,
+     In Southwerk at the Tabard{6} as I lay,
+     Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
+     To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,
+     At night was come into that hostelrye
+     Wel nyne and twenty in a compainye,
+     Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle
+     In felaweschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle,
+     That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;
+     The chambres and the stables{7} weren wyde,
+     And wel we werën esed attë beste.
+     And schortly, whan the sonnë was to reste,
+     So hadde I spoken with hem everychon,
+     That I was of here felaweschipe anon,
+     And madë forward erly for to ryse,
+     To take our wey ther as I yow devyse.
+     But nathëles, whil I have tyme and space,
+     Or{8} that I forther in this talë pace,
+     Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,
+     To tellë yow al the condicioun{9}
+     Of eche of hem, so as it semede me,
+     And whiche they weren, and of what degre;
+     And eek in what array that they were inne:
+     And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.
+       A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,
+     That from the tymë that he first bigan
+     To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,{10}
+     Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.
+     Ful worthy was he in his lordës werre,
+     And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,
+     As wel in Cristendom as in hethënesse,{11}
+     And evere honoured for his worthinesse.
+     At Alisaundre{12} he was whan it was wonne,
+     Ful oftë tyme he hadde the bord bygonne{13}
+     Aboven allë naciouns in Pruce.{14}
+     In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,
+     No cristen man so ofte of his degre.
+     In Gernade{15} attë siegë hadde he be
+     Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.
+     At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,
+     Whan they were wonne; and in the Greetë see{16}
+     At many a noble arive hadde he be.
+     At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,
+     And foughten for our feith at Tramassene
+     In lystës thriës, and ay slayn his foo.
+     This ilkë worthy knight hadde ben also
+     Somtymë with the lord of Palatye,{17}
+     Ageyn another hethen in Turkye:
+     And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.
+     And though that he was worthy, he was wys,
+     And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
+     He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde
+     In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.{18}
+     He was a verray perfight gentil knight.
+     But for to tellen you of his array,
+     His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.
+     Of fustyan he werede a gepoun
+     Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.
+     For he was late ycome from his viage,
+     And wentë for to doon his pilgrimage.
+       With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER,
+     A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,{19}
+     With lokkës crulle as they were leyd in presse.
+     Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.
+     Of his stature he was of even lengthe,
+     And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.
+     And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye,
+     In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye,
+     And born him wel, as of so litel space,
+     In hope to stonden in his lady grace.
+     Embrowded was he, as it were a mede
+     Al ful of fresshë floures, white and reede.
+     Syngynge he was, or floytynge,{20} al the day;
+     He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.
+     Schort was his goune, with sleevës longe and wyde.
+     Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and fairë ryde.
+     He cowdë songës make and wel endite,
+     Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.
+     So hote he lovedë, that by nightertale
+     He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.
+     Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable,
+     And carf byforn his fader at the table.
+       A YEMAN hadde he,{21} and servaunts nomoo
+     At that tyme, for him lustë rydë soo;
+     And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.
+     A shef of pocok arwës{22} brighte and kene
+     Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.
+     Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly;
+     His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.
+     And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe
+     A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.
+     Of woodë-craft wel cowde he al the usage.
+     Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer{23}
+     And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,
+     And on that other side a gay daggere,
+     Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere;
+     A Cristofre{24} on his brest of silver schene.
+     An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;
+     A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.
+       Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,
+     That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;
+     Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy{25};
+     And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.
+     Ful wel sche sang the servisë divyne,
+     Entuned in hire nose ful semëly;
+     And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly,
+     After the scole of Stratford attë Bowe,
+     For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.
+     At metë wel i-taught was sche withalle;
+     Sche leet no morsel from hire lippës falle,
+     Ne wette hire fyngres in hire saucë deepe.
+     Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe,
+     That no dropë ne fille upon hire breste.
+     In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
+     Hire overlippë wypede sche so clene,
+     That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
+     Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
+     Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
+     And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26}
+     And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
+     And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
+     Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,
+     And to ben holden digne of reverence.
+     But for to speken of hir conscience,
+     Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
+     Sche woldë weepe if that sche saw a mous
+     Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
+     Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
+     With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.
+     But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
+     Or if men{27} smot it with a yerdë smerte:
+     And al was conscience and tendre herte.
+     Ful semëly hire wympel i-pynched was;
+     Hir nose tretys; hir eyën greye as glas;
+     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed
+     But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
+     It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
+     For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
+     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
+     Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar
+     A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
+     And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,
+     On which was first i-write a crownëd A,
+     And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28}
+     Another NONNE with hir haddë sche,
+     That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.
+       A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistryë,{30}
+     An out-rydere, that lovedë veneryë;
+     A manly man, to ben an abbot able.
+     Ful many a deynté hors hadde he in stable:
+     And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere
+     Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,
+     And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.
+     Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,
+     The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,
+     Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,
+     This ilkë monk leet oldë thingës pace,
+     And held after the newë world the space.
+     He yaf nat of that text a pullëd hen,{31}
+     That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;
+     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchëles
+     Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32};
+     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
+     But thilkë text held he not worth an oystre.
+     And I seide his opinioun was good.
+     What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34}
+     Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.
+     Or swynkë with his handës, and laboure,
+     As Austyn bit? How schal the world be servëd?
+     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reservëd.
+     Therfor he was a pricasour aright;
+     Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;
+     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
+     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.{35}
+     I saugh his slevës purfiled attë honde
+     With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.
+     And for to festne his hood under his chynne
+     He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne:
+     A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.
+     His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas,
+     And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.
+     He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;
+     His eyën steepe, and rollyng in his heede,
+     That stemëde as a forneys of a leede;{36}
+     His bootës souple, his hors in gret estat.
+     Now certeinly he was a fair prelat;
+     He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.
+     A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.
+     His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.
+       A FRERE there was, a wantown and a merye,
+     A lymytour,{37} a ful solempnë man.
+     In alle the ordres foure{38} is noon that can
+     So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.
+     He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage
+     Of yongë wymmen, at his owën cost.
+     Unto his ordre he was a noble post.{39}
+     Ful wel biloved and famulier was he
+     With frankeleyns{40} over-al in his cuntre,
+     And eek with worthy wommen of the toun:
+     For he hadde power of confessioun,
+     As seyde himself, morë than a curat,
+     For of his ordre he was licentiat.{41}
+     Ful swetëly herde he confessioun,
+     And plesaunt was his absolucioun;
+     He was an esy man to yeve penaunce
+     Ther as he wistë han{42} a good pitaunce;
+     For unto a poure ordre for to yive
+     Is signë that a man is wel i-schrive.
+     For if he yaf, he dorstë make avaunt,
+     He wistë that a man was repentaunt.
+     For many a man so hard is of his herte,
+     He may not wepe although him sorë smerte.
+     Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres,
+     Men{43} moot yive silver to the pourë freres.
+     His typet was ay farsëd ful of knyfes
+     And pynnës, for to yivë fairë wyfes.
+     And certeynly he hadde a mery note;
+     Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.
+     Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.
+     His nekkë whit was as the flour-de-lys.
+     Therto he strong was as a champioun.
+     He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,
+     And everych hostiler and tappestere,
+     Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere,
+     For unto such a worthy man as he
+     Acorded not, as by his faculté,
+     To han with sikë lazars aqueyntaunce.
+     It is not honest, it may not avaunce,
+     For to delen with no such poraille,
+     But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.{44}
+     And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise,
+     Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.
+     Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.
+     He was the bestë beggere in his hous,
+     For though a widewe haddë noght oo schoo,
+     So plesaunt was his _In principio_,{45}
+     Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.
+     His purchas{46} was wel better than his rente.
+     And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe,
+     In lovë-dayës{47} couthe he mochel helpe.
+     For ther he was not lik a cloysterer,
+     With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler,
+     But he was lik a maister or a pope.
+     Of double worsted was his semy-cope,
+     That rounded as a belle out of the presse.
+     Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse,
+     To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge;
+     And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge
+     His eyën twynkled in his heed aright,
+     As don the sterrës in the frosty night.
+     This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.
+       A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forkëd berd,
+     In mottëleye, and hign on hors he sat,
+     Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat;
+     His botës clapsed faire and fetysly.
+     His resons he spak ful solempnëly,
+     Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.
+     He wolde the see were kept for{48} eny thinge
+     Betwixë Middelburgh and Orëwelle.
+     Wel couthe he in eschaungë scheeldës{49} selle.
+     This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette;
+     Ther wistë no wight that he was in dette,
+     So estatly was he of governaunce,
+     With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce
+     For sothe he was a worthy man withalle,
+     But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.
+       A CLERK ther was of Oxenford{50} also,
+     That unto logik haddë longe i-go.
+     As lenë was his hors as is a rake,
+     And he was not right{51} fat, I undertake;
+     But lokëde holwe, and therto soberly.
+     Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.
+     For he hadde geten him yit no benefice,
+     Ne was so worldly for to have office.
+     For him was levere have at his beddës heede
+     Twenty bookës, clad in blak or reede,
+     Of Aristotle and his philosophyë,
+     Then robës riche, or fithel, or gay sawtryë.{52}
+     But al be that he was a philosophre,
+     Yet haddë he but litel gold in cofre;
+     But al that he mighte of his frendës hente,
+     On bookës and on lernyng he it spente,
+     And busily gan for the soulës preye
+     Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye;
+     Of studie took he most cure and most heede.
+     Not oo word spak he morë than was neede,
+     And that was seid in forme and reverence
+     And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.
+     Sownynge{53} in moral vertu was his speche,
+     And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =ageyn=, against.
+     =arive=, disembarkment.
+     =aventure=, chance.
+     =ay=, always.
+     =bar=, bore.
+     =bawdrick=, baldric.
+     =ben=, to be.
+     =bit=, biddeth.
+     =byfel=, it happened.
+     =bysmotered=, smutted.
+     =carf=, carved.
+     =cheere=, manner.
+     =chevysaunce=, loans, bargains.
+     =chivachye=, military expedition.
+     =clapsed=, clasped.
+     =cleped=, called.
+     =clerk=, a scholar.
+     =corage=, heart.
+     =courtepy=, cloak.
+     =cowde=, knew.
+     =crulle=, curled.
+     =cure=, care.
+     =delyver=, active.
+     =devyse=, speak of.
+     =digne=, worthy.
+     =don=, do.
+     =eek=, also.
+     =embrowded=, embroidered.
+     =encres=, increase.
+     =everychon=, every one, all.
+     =farsed=, stuffed.
+     =ferne=, distant, foreign.
+     =ferre=, farther.
+     =ferthing=, small portion.
+     =fetysly=, neatly, well.
+     =fithel=, fiddle.
+     =Flaundrische=, Flemish.
+     =flotynge=, fluting, playing.
+     =flour-de-lys=, fleur-de-lis.
+     =for-pyned=, much wasted.
+     =forster=, forester.
+     =frere=, friar.
+     =gawded=, having gawds.
+     =gepoun=, short cassock.
+     =goost=, ghost.
+     =grys=, fur.
+     =gynglen=, jingling.
+     =habergeoun=, hawberk.
+     =halwes=, shrines (holies).
+     =heethe=, heath, meadow.
+     =hem=, them.
+     =here=, their.
+     =heute=, borrow.
+     =holpen=, helped.
+     =holte=, wood.
+     =i-falle=, fallen.
+     =ilke=, same.
+     =i-ronne=, ran.
+     =juste=, joust.
+     =kouthe=, known.
+     =leede=, cauldron.
+     =leste=, pleasure.
+     =levere=, rather.
+     =lipsede=, lisped.
+     =luste=, pleased.
+     =maistrye=, mastery.
+     =maner=, kind.
+     =mede=, meadow.
+     =mete=, meals, eating.
+     =motteleye=, mixed colors.
+     =nightertale=, night-time.
+     =noon=, not one, not at all.
+     =not-heed=, shorn-head.
+     =pace=, pass.
+     =peyned=, took pains.
+     =pitous=, full of pity.
+     =pocok=, peacock.
+     =poraille=, poor folks.
+     =pricasour=, hard rider.
+     =priketh=, incites, spurs.
+     =prys=, reputation, worth.
+     =purfiled=, embroidered.
+     =purtreye=, paint.
+     =raughte=, reached.
+     =reccheles=, reckless.
+     =reysed=, ridden.
+     =rote=, a musical instrument.
+     =sawtreye=, psaltery.
+     =schene=, bright.
+     =scoleye=, attend school.
+     =seeke=, sick.
+     =semely=, becomingly.
+     =sikerly=, surely.
+     =somdel=, somewhat.
+     =sondry=, different kinds.
+     =sothly=, truly.
+     =souple=, pliant.
+     =sovereyn=, excellent.
+     =sowning=, boasting.
+     =steepe=, bright.
+     =streit=, strict.
+     =swich=, such.
+     =swynke=, toil.
+     =thilke=, this.
+     =tretys=, slender.
+     =venerye=, hunting.
+     =viage=, journey.
+     =wastel breed=, cake bread.
+     =wenden=, go.
+     =werre=, war.
+     =wight=, person.
+     =wiste=, knew.
+     =wood=, mad, foolish.
+     =wympel=, wimple.
+     =yaf=, gave.
+     =yeddynges=, gleemen's songs.
+     =yemanly=, yeoman-like.
+     =yerde=, stick.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =in the Ram.= In the constellation Aries. "There is a difference, in
+astronomy, between the _sign_ Aries and the _constellation_ Aries. In
+April the sun is theoretically in the sign Taurus, but visibly in the
+constellation Aries."--_Morris._
+
+2. =i-ronne.= Run. The prefix _i-_ or _y-_ is equivalent to the A.-S. or
+German _ge_, and usually denotes the past participle.
+
+3. =seeken.= The infinitive in early English ended in _n_, usually in
+_en_.
+
+4. =martir.= Thomas à Becket, who was slain at Canterbury in 1170. He was
+canonized by Pope Alexander III. as St. Thomas of Canterbury.
+
+5. =seeke.= Sick, ill. At the present time the English restrict the use of
+the word "sick" to nausea, and regard it in its original and broader
+signification as an "Americanism."
+
+6. =Tabard.= A tabard is "a jaquet or slevelesse coat worne in times past
+by noblemen in the warres, but now only by heraults. It is the signe of
+an inne in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the
+Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This is the hostelrie where Chaucer and the
+other pilgrims mett together and accorded about the manner of their
+journey to Canterbury."--_Speght._
+
+7. =stables.= Standing-places (Lat. _sto_, to stand); meaning here the
+public rooms of the inn.
+
+8. =Or.= Before, ere (A.-S. _aer_, ere). Compare Psalm xc. 2.
+
+9. =condicioun.= A word of four syllables, accented on the last.
+
+10. =chyvalrye.= The profession of a knight.
+
+11. =hethënesse.= Heathen countries. From _heath_, the open country. "The
+word _heathen_ acquired its meaning from the fact that, at the
+introduction of Christianity into Germany, the wild dwellers on the
+heaths longest resisted the truth."--_Trench._
+
+12. =Alisaundre.= Alexandria was taken in 1365 by Pierre de Lusignan,
+king of Cyprus, but was very soon abandoned.
+
+13. =he hadde the bord bygonne.= "He had been placed at the head of the
+table, the usual compliment to extraordinary merit."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+14. =Pruce.= Prussia. "When our military men wanted employment it was
+usual for them to go and serve in _Pruce_, or Prussia, with the Knights
+of the Teutonic order, who were in a state of constant warfare with
+their heathen neighbours in Lettow (Lithuania) and Ruse
+(Russia)."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+15. =Gernade.= Grenada, probably at the siege of Algezir, in that country,
+in 1344. Belmarie was probably a Moorish town in Africa, as also was
+Tramassene, mentioned below. Lieys was in Armenia. Both it and Satalie
+(Attalia) were conquered by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367.
+
+16. =Greetë see.= That part of the Mediterranean which washes the coast of
+Palestine.
+
+17. =lord of Palatye.= A Christian knight who kept possession of his lands
+by paying tribute to the Turks.
+
+18. =no maner wight.= No sort of person. In early English the preposition
+was often omitted after _manner_. Observe the double negatives in these
+two lines.
+
+19. =bacheler.= "A soldier not old or rich enough to lead his relations
+into battle with a banner. The original sense of the word is _little_,
+_small_, _young_, from Welsh _bach_."--_Webster._
+
+20. =floytynge.= Fluting. So, in Chaucer's "House of Fame," he says:
+
+     "And many a floyte and litlyng horne,
+     And pipes made of grene corne."
+
+21. =he.= That is, the knight. The word _yeman_, or _yeoman_, is an
+abbreviation of _yeongeman_. As used by Chaucer, it means a servant of a
+rank above that of groom, but below that of squire. The present use of
+the word to signify a small landholder is of more modern origin.
+
+22. =pocok arwës.= Arrows tipped with peacock feathers.
+
+23. =bracer.= A kind of close sleeve laced upon the arm. "A bracer serveth
+for two causes, one to save his arme from the strype of the stringe, and
+his doublet from wearing; and the other is, that the stringe glidinge
+sharplye and quicklye off the bracer, maye make the sharper
+shoote."--_Roger Ascham's Toxophilus_, page 129.
+
+24. =Cristofre.= An image of St. Christopher, which was thought to protect
+its wearer from hidden danger.
+
+25. =seynt Loy.= St. Eloy, or Eligius.
+
+26. =of gret disport.= Fond of gayety.
+
+27. =men.= This word as here used is an indefinite pronoun equivalent to
+_one_, or _any one_.
+
+28. "Love conquers all things."
+
+29. =chapeleyne.= Probably _assistant_.
+
+30. =a fair for the maistryë.= A fair one for the chief place.
+
+31. "He would not give a pulled hen for that text"; that is, "he cared
+not a straw for it." Pulled = pylled = pilled = plucked.
+
+32. =waterles.= Out of water.
+
+33. =what.= Why, wherefore.
+
+34. =wood.= Mad. Scotch _wud_, wild.
+
+     "An' just as wud as wud can be."--_Burns._
+
+35. =no cost wolde he spare.= For this pleasure he spared no expense.
+
+36. "That shone like the fire under a cauldron."
+
+37. =lymytour.= One who was licensed to beg within a limited territory.
+
+38. =ordres foure.= The Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and
+the Augustine Friars.
+
+39. =post.= Pillar, support. Compare with the modern expression, "A pillar
+of the church."
+
+40. =frankeleyns.= Country gentlemen; wealthy landholders.
+
+41. =licentiat.= He had license from the pope to grant absolution in all
+cases. A curate's powers did not extend so far.
+
+42. "Where he knew he would have."
+
+43. See note 27, above.
+
+44. =sellers of vitaille.= Givers of food, or a livelihood. The original
+meaning of the word _sell_ was to _give_. From A.-S. _syllan_, to give.
+
+45. "In the beginning." The first words of St. John's Gospel in the
+Vulgate.
+
+46. =purchas.= Income from begging.
+
+47. =lovë-dayës.= Days appointed for the amicable settlement of
+differences, without recourse to law.
+
+48. "He wished the sea were guarded." =Middelburgh=, a port in the
+Netherlands. =Orëwelle=, a port in Essex.
+
+49. =scheeldës.= French crowns marked with a shield. Shillings.
+
+50. =Oxenford.= Not the "ford of the ox," but the "ford of the river."
+_Ox_, from Celtic _esk_, _ouse_, water.
+
+51. The word _right_ used, as here, in the sense of _very_ is now
+considered a vulgarism. "A Southerner would say, 'It rains right
+hard.'"--_Bartlett._
+
+52. =sawtryë.= Psaltery, a Greek instrument of music.
+
+53. =sownynge.= Sounding; that is, in consonance with. =Sentence=
+= sense. So, also, construe =forme= and =reverence=, above, as meaning
+_propriety and modesty_.
+
+
+ON READING CHAUCER.
+
+"'How few there are who can read Chaucer so as to understand him
+perfectly,' says Dryden, apologizing for 'translating' him. In our day,
+with the wider spread of historical study, with the numerous helps to
+Old English that the care of scholars has produced for us, with the
+purification that Chaucer's text has undergone, this saying of Dryden's
+ought not to be true. It ought to be not only possible, but easy, for an
+educated reader to learn the few essentials of Chaucerian grammar, and
+for an ear at all trained to poetry to tune itself to the unfamiliar
+harmonies. For those who make the attempt the reward is certain. They
+will gain the knowledge, not only of the great poet and creative genius,
+but of the master who uses our language with a power, a freedom, a
+variety, a rhythmic beauty, that, in five centuries, not ten of his
+successors have been found able to rival."--_T. H. Ward._
+
+The peculiarities of diction and grammar which distinguish Chaucer's
+poetry seem to make its reading and comprehension difficult and often
+discourage the student at the outset. A very little study, however, will
+show that the difficulties in the way are not nearly so great as they at
+first appear, and, after a little patient practice in reading, they will
+disappear entirely. By observing the following rules you will soon
+acquire the ability to read with a fluency which will be highly pleasing
+to you:
+
+1. Final _e_ should be pronounced as a separate syllable whenever the
+metre demands it.
+
+2. In all words of French origin, such as viságe, coráge, maniér, the
+final syllable is accented.
+
+The greatest difficulty in reading Chaucer arises from the antiquated
+manner in which the words are spelled; but if the reader will change an
+occasional _y_ to _i_, and drop a final _e_ or a final _n_, here and
+there, the words which seemed at first so strange will appear more
+familiar to the eye and the understanding.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+GEOFFREY CHAUCER, "the morning-star of English poetry," was born in
+London in 1328,--according to some authorities, in 1340. He was the son
+of a vintner, and at an early age became acquainted with many persons of
+distinction. He was a page in the household of Prince Lionel, and
+afterwards valet and squire to Edward III. In 1372 he was sent abroad as
+a royal envoy, and on his return he was made Controller of the Customs
+In London. In the meantime he had married Philippa Rouet, one of the
+queen's maids of honor, a sister to the wife of John of Gaunt. Being
+thus closely related to one of the most powerful members of the royal
+family, he was often employed in important and honorable commissions
+connected with the government. In 1386 he was member of Parliament for
+Kent, and in 1389 was appointed Clerk of the King's Works, at Windsor.
+He died in 1400, and was buried in Westminster Abbey,--"the first of the
+long line of poets whose ashes make that edifice illustrious." His
+poetical history has been divided by Mr. Furnivall into four periods:
+(1) up to 1371, during which he wrote the "A B C" the "Compleynte to
+Pité," the "Boke of the Duchesse," and the "Compleynte of Mars"; (2)
+from 1372 to 1381, which saw the production of "Troylus and Criseyde,"
+"Anelida," and the "Former Age"; (3) from 1381 to 1389, during which his
+best works appeared, the "Parlament of Foules," the "House of Fame," the
+"Legende of Goode Women," and some of the "Canterbury Tales"; (4) from
+1389 to the close of his life, in which period the remainder of the
+"Canterbury Tales" and some short poems were written.
+
+M. Taine says, "Chaucer is like a jeweller with his hands full; pearls
+and glass beads, sparkling diamonds and common agates, black jet and
+ruby roses, all that history and imagination had been able to gather and
+fashion during three centuries in the East, in France, in Wales, in
+Provence, in Italy, all that had rolled his way, clashed together,
+broken or polished by the stream of centuries, and by the grand jumble
+of human memory, he holds in his hand, arranges it, composes therefrom a
+long sparkling ornament, with twenty pendants, a thousand facets, which
+by its splendor, variety, contrasts, may attract and satisfy the eyes of
+those most greedy for amusement and novelty."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Knight's Tale; The Clerk's Tale; The Man of
+Law's Tale; The Legende of Goode Women; The Parlament of Foules; The
+House of Fame; Chaucer's A B C.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Lowell's _My Study Windows_; Marsh's _Origin and History of
+the English Language_; Charles Cowden Clarke's _The Riches of Chaucer_;
+Morley's _English Writers_, vol. v; Carpenter's _English of the XIV
+Century_; Taine's _English Literature_; Lounsbury's _Studies in
+Chaucer_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX TO NOTES.
+
+
+     accloyes, 234.
+
+     afoir, 282.
+
+     aft, 106.
+
+     Age of Gold, 79, 192.
+
+     Ajax, 147.
+
+     Akenside, Mark, 96.
+
+     amaist, 106.
+
+     ance, 106.
+
+     "Annus Mirabilis," 173.
+
+     antickes, 234.
+
+     Aonian, 208.
+
+     Apollo, 74.
+
+     apparelled, 46.
+
+     Arnold, Matthew, 16.
+
+     Arthur's Seat, 254.
+
+     Arvon, 136.
+
+     Ashtaroth, 194.
+
+     assay, 275.
+
+     assuasive, 154.
+
+     awfull, 189.
+
+     axle-tree, 189.
+
+     ay, 282.
+
+     Aytoun, William Edmondstoune, 16.
+
+
+     Baalim, 194.
+
+     Bacchus, 87, 166.
+
+     bairns, 105.
+
+     baldric, 25.
+
+     Ballads, 265.
+
+     Beattie, James, 96.
+
+     bede, 275.
+
+     bedight, 233.
+
+     beets, 105.
+
+     belyve, 106.
+
+     ben, 105.
+
+     bield, 109.
+
+     birkie, 110.
+
+     Blair, Robert, 96.
+
+     Blake, William, 96.
+
+     blate, 106.
+
+     blinkin, 106.
+
+     Boadicea, 114.
+
+     boding, 127.
+
+     bonnet, 105.
+
+     bracer, 299.
+
+     brae, 254.
+
+     braw, 106.
+
+     bray, 137.
+
+     Browne, William, 158.
+
+     Browning, Robert, 16.
+
+     Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 16.
+
+     brutish, 194.
+
+     Bulwer-Lytton, Robert, 16.
+
+     burn-side, 254.
+
+     Burns, Robert, 111.
+
+     busk, 254.
+
+     buskin, 139.
+
+     Butler, Samuel, 158.
+
+     Byron, Lord, 16.
+
+
+     ca', 105.
+
+     Cambria, 135.
+
+     Camelot, 24.
+
+     Camilla, 147.
+
+     Campbell, Thomas, 16.
+
+     cannie, 106.
+
+     Carew, Thomas, 158.
+
+     carking, 106.
+
+     castamergia, 271.
+
+     cataracts, 46.
+
+     Chapman, George, 216.
+
+     Chatterton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Chaucer, Geoffrey, 301.
+
+     Chepe, 275.
+
+     Christabel, 64.
+
+     Churchill, Charles, 96.
+
+     chyvalrye, 298.
+
+     claes, 106.
+
+     Clarius, 208.
+
+     close, 190.
+
+     Clough, Arthur Hugh, 16.
+
+     Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 65.
+
+     Collins, William, 96.
+
+     conceit, 145.
+
+     concern, 119.
+
+     consort, 192.
+
+     convoy, 106.
+
+     coof, 110.
+
+     coot, 27.
+
+     coronal, 47.
+
+     cotter, 104.
+
+     Cowley, Abraham, 158.
+
+     Cowper, William, 122.
+
+     Crabbe, George, 96.
+
+     cracks, 106.
+
+     Crashaw, Richard, 158.
+
+     craws, 106.
+
+     crew, 168.
+
+     Cristofre, 299.
+
+     crynis, 282.
+
+     Cynthia, 190.
+
+
+     dædal, 74.
+
+     Daniel, Samuel, 216.
+
+     Darius, 166.
+
+     darkling, 87.
+
+     Davenant, Sir William, 158.
+
+     Davies, Sir John, 216.
+
+     deid, 282.
+
+     Delphos, 193.
+
+     demi-gods, 154.
+
+     Denham, Sir John, 158.
+
+     denty, 281.
+
+     deposit, 105.
+
+     dicht, 282.
+
+     docht, 282.
+
+     Donne, John, 216.
+
+     Douglas, Gawain, 284.
+
+     dragon, 193.
+
+     Drayton, Michael, 216.
+
+     Drummond, William, 158.
+
+     dryad, 86.
+
+     Dryden, John, 175.
+
+     Dunbar, William, 283.
+
+     dusk, 24.
+
+     Dyer, John, 96.
+
+     dyght, 275.
+
+
+     effeires, 281.
+
+     Elysian, 79.
+
+     ene, 281.
+
+     Epipsychidion, 79.
+
+     ere, 189.
+
+     esperance, 278.
+
+     eydent, 106.
+
+     eyn, 195.
+
+
+     fallow, 281.
+
+     fassoun, 278.
+
+     Fates, 137.
+
+     Fauns, 73.
+
+     feid, 282.
+
+     fell, 106.
+
+     Fergusson, Robert, 96.
+
+     fit, 145.
+
+     Flamins, 194.
+
+     Fletcher, Giles, 158.
+
+     flichterin, 106.
+
+     floytynge, 299.
+
+     fois, 282.
+
+     fond, 139.
+
+     foreland, 27.
+
+     forgit, 281.
+
+     forgoes, 194.
+
+     frankeleyns, 300.
+
+     Fungoso, 146.
+
+     Furies, 167.
+
+
+     galaxy, 25.
+
+     garmond, 278.
+
+     gars, 106.
+
+     Garth, Samuel, 120.
+
+     Gascoigne, George, 216.
+
+     gauge, 127.
+
+     Gay, John, 96.
+
+     genius, 193.
+
+     gere, 275.
+
+     Gernadé, 299.
+
+     gife, 281.
+
+     glaiding, 282.
+
+     glinted, 109.
+
+     gloir, 282.
+
+     Gloster, 136.
+
+     Glover, Richard, 96.
+
+     Goldsmith, Oliver, 128.
+
+     governance, 278.
+
+     gowd, 110.
+
+     Gower, John, 286.
+
+     grant, 282.
+
+     Gray, Thomas, 139.
+
+     gree, 110, 282.
+
+     Green, Matthew, 96.
+
+     Greene, Robert, 216.
+
+     greete, 275.
+
+     griesly, 137.
+
+     grisly, 194.
+
+     gross, 174.
+
+     guerdoun, 282.
+
+
+     ha'-bible, 105.
+
+     haffets, 106.
+
+     hafflins, 106.
+
+     halcyons, 79.
+
+     Hall, Joseph, 216.
+
+     hals-ribbane, 278.
+
+     halsit, 281.
+
+     Hammon, 194.
+
+     harbinger, 188.
+
+     hauberk, 135.
+
+     haut-boys, 166.
+
+     Hawes, Stephen, 268.
+
+     hawkie, 105.
+
+     Henryson, Robert, 283.
+
+     Herbert, George, 158.
+
+     Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, 158.
+
+     hern, 27.
+
+     Herrick, Robert, 202.
+
+     Hesperus, 80.
+
+     hethenesse, 298.
+
+     hinges, 191.
+
+     Hippocrene, 86.
+
+     histie, 109.
+
+     Hoel, 136.
+
+     hoiss, 278.
+
+     Hood, Thomas, 16.
+
+     Howard, Henry, 252.
+
+     hud, 278.
+
+     Hunt, Leigh, 16.
+
+     hyed, 275.
+
+     hymeneal, 71.
+
+
+     ilk, 282.
+
+     influence, 189.
+
+     ingle, 106.
+
+     Ionian, 79.
+
+     ipocras, 271.
+
+     i-ronne, 298.
+
+     Isis, 194.
+
+     its, 190.
+
+     Ixion, 154.
+
+
+     Japhet, 209.
+
+     Johnson, Samuel, 96.
+
+     jollity, 46.
+
+     Jonson, Ben, 213.
+
+
+     Keats, John, 93.
+
+     kebbuck, 106.
+
+     key, 174.
+
+     Kingsley, Charles, 16.
+
+     kirtill, 278.
+
+     kye, 105.
+
+
+     laif, 281.
+
+     Lamb, Charles, 16.
+
+     Landor, Walter Savage, 16.
+
+     Langland, William, 286.
+
+     lasit, 278.
+
+     lathefu', 106.
+
+     lave, 106.
+
+     lawn, 189.
+
+     lays, 104.
+
+     lemys, 281.
+
+     lesum, 278.
+
+     Lethe, 86.
+
+     letted, 173.
+
+     licentiate, 300.
+
+     lichtlie, 254.
+
+     Lodge, Thomas, 216.
+
+     love-days, 300.
+
+     Lovelace, Richard, 158.
+
+     Lucifer, 80, 189.
+
+     lufe, 278.
+
+     lukit, 281.
+
+     lyart, 106.
+
+     Lydgate, John, 283.
+
+     Lydian, 167.
+
+     Lyly, John, 216.
+
+     lymytour, 300.
+
+     lyst, 275.
+
+
+     Macaulay, Thomas B., 16.
+
+     Mænalus, 74.
+
+     maiden (_adj._), 188.
+
+     mailyheis, 278.
+
+     mansuetude, 281.
+
+     Marlowe, Christopher, 216.
+
+     martir, 298.
+
+     Marvell, Andrew, 158.
+
+     May, 47.
+
+     mede, 275.
+
+     mekill, 282.
+
+     mend, 146.
+
+     "Meredith, Owen," 16.
+
+     Milnes, Richard Monckton, 16.
+
+     Milton, John, 195.
+
+     moil, 106.
+
+     Moore, Thomas, 16.
+
+     morrow, 281.
+
+     Mortimer, 136.
+
+     mould, 192.
+
+     muddir, 281.
+
+     Mulciber, 234.
+
+     Muses, 153.
+
+
+     neibor, 105.
+
+     noise, 190.
+
+     numbers, 147.
+
+
+     Occleve, Thomas, 268.
+
+     or, 189, 298.
+
+     oracles, 193.
+
+     organs, 168.
+
+     Orpheus, 154.
+
+     Orus, 194.
+
+     Oxenford, 300.
+
+     Osiris, 195.
+
+
+     pad, 24.
+
+     Palatye, 299.
+
+     Pan, 190.
+
+     pansy, 47.
+
+     pansing, 278.
+
+     paramour, 80, 188.
+
+     pards, 87.
+
+     Parnassus, 146.
+
+     Parnell, Thomas, 96.
+
+     passing, 126.
+
+     patelet, 278.
+
+     peir, 282.
+
+     Peneus, 73, 243.
+
+     penny-fee, 105.
+
+     Peor, 194.
+
+     pescodes, 275.
+
+     philargyria, 271.
+
+     Phlegethon, 154.
+
+     pies, 208.
+
+     pine (_v._), 71.
+
+     Plinlimmon, 136.
+
+     plum, 120.
+
+     Pope, Alexander, 155.
+
+     pourall, 282.
+
+     prevent, 188.
+
+     Procter, Adelaide, 16.
+
+     Procter, Bryan Waller, 16.
+
+     profuse, 71.
+
+     Prothalamion, 241.
+
+     Provençal, 86.
+
+     Pruce, 299.
+
+     puissance, 282.
+
+
+     quality, 147.
+
+     quhen, 281.
+
+     quhois, 281.
+
+     quhome, 282.
+
+     quhyll, 281.
+
+
+     Raleigh, Sir Walter, 216.
+
+     Ramsay, Allan, 96.
+
+     reedes (_v._), 233.
+
+     reid, 282.
+
+     requiem, 87.
+
+     rewth, 278.
+
+     Rhodope, 155.
+
+     Robin Hood, 265.
+
+     rois, 281, 282.
+
+     rutty, 242.
+
+     ryshes, 275.
+
+
+     sacerdotal, 106.
+
+     Sackville, Thomas, 216.
+
+     Saint Agnes, 93.
+
+     Saint Cecilia, 168.
+
+     salvage, 233.
+
+     sanct, 282.
+
+     Sandys, George, 158.
+
+     sark, 278.
+
+     sawtrye, 300.
+
+     scho, 278.
+
+     schone, 278.
+
+     Scott, Sir Walter, 16.
+
+     seeke, 298.
+
+     seeken, 298.
+
+     seeliest, 212.
+
+     seill, 278.
+
+     seraphim, 191.
+
+     session, 193.
+
+     set, 278.
+
+     Shakespeare, William, 221.
+
+     Shelley, Percy B., 81.
+
+     shend, 244.
+
+     Shenstone, William, 96.
+
+     sic, 281.
+
+     sickerness, 278.
+
+     Sidney, Philip, 216.
+
+     Sileni, 73.
+
+     silly, 190.
+
+     Simoïs, 174.
+
+     simonia, 271.
+
+     Sisyphus, 154.
+
+     site, 282.
+
+     Skelton, John, 272.
+
+     skylark, 71.
+
+     Snowdon, 135.
+
+     socks, 213.
+
+     sort, 146.
+
+     Southey, Robert, 16.
+
+     sovran, 189.
+
+     sowninge, 300.
+
+     sowpe, 106.
+
+     sparks, 146.
+
+     spede, 275.
+
+     speiris, 281.
+
+     Spenser, Edmund, 245.
+
+     sphear, 188.
+
+     spiers, 106.
+
+     splene, 281.
+
+     spread, 193.
+
+     sprite, 71.
+
+     stables, 298.
+
+     stacher, 106.
+
+     stage, 48.
+
+     Star Chamber, 271.
+
+     steep, 119.
+
+     store, 243.
+
+     stoure, 109.
+
+     strook, 190.
+
+     Styx, 154.
+
+     Suckling, Sir John, 158.
+
+     sugh, 104.
+
+     Surrey, Earl of, 252.
+
+     Swan of Avon, 213.
+
+     swindges, 193.
+
+     Sylvans, 73.
+
+     Syrinx, 74.
+
+
+     Tabard, 298.
+
+     tabor, 46.
+
+     Taliessin, 138.
+
+     Tennyson, Alfred, 35.
+
+     tentie, 106.
+
+     tepat, 278.
+
+     terms, 127.
+
+     Thais, 166.
+
+     Thammuz, 194.
+
+     tholl, 278.
+
+     Thomson, James, 96.
+
+     thorps, 27.
+
+     thrissil, 281.
+
+     till, 282.
+
+     Timotheus, 147, 166.
+
+     "tirra lirra," 25.
+
+     Titans, 241.
+
+     Tmolus, 73.
+
+     toil, 104.
+
+     trailed, 24.
+
+     train, 104.
+
+     trump, 192.
+
+     turtle, 188.
+
+     tynis, 282.
+
+     Typhon, 195.
+
+
+     udir, 281.
+
+     uncos, 106.
+
+     undersong, 244.
+
+     unexpressive, 191.
+
+
+     Vaughan, Henry, 158.
+
+     vermeil, 243.
+
+
+     wales, 106.
+
+     Waller, Edmund, 205.
+
+     Warner, William, 216.
+
+     warp, 137.
+
+     Warton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Watson, Thomas, 216.
+
+     weet, 109.
+
+     weid, 281.
+
+     weiris, 281.
+
+     weit, 278.
+
+     weltering, 191.
+
+     which, 245.
+
+     whilome, 234.
+
+     whist, 189.
+
+     wicht, 282.
+
+     wight, 233.
+
+     wilding, 51.
+
+     wiles, 106.
+
+     wisards, 188.
+
+     wit, 145.
+
+     Wither, George, 158.
+
+     wold, 24.
+
+     wonne, 234.
+
+     wont, 187.
+
+     wood, 300.
+
+     Wordsworth, William, 52.
+
+     wrought, 71.
+
+     Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 252.
+
+
+     ychain'd, 192.
+
+     yede, 275.
+
+     yode, 233.
+
+     Young, Edward, 96.
+
+     youngling, 106.
+
+     'yont, 106.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+Ellipses match the original.
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the orginal.
+
+The following words use an oe ligature in the original:
+
+     Boeotia       Phoenicia
+     Meliboeus     Phoenicians
+     Oeagrus
+
+The following corrections have been made to the text:
+
+     Page 79: Dante's _Vita Nuova_.[original has extraneous
+     quotation mark]
+
+     Page 81: full age of man, he might not[original has extraneous
+     comma] improbably
+
+     Page 124: Near yonder copse, where once the garden
+     smiled,[original has superscripted 1 at the end of the line]
+
+     Page 146: _Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i[original has ii]
+     sc. i.
+
+     Page 146: versification of the "Faerie Queene," page
+     232[original has 234]
+
+     Page 303: chyvalrye[original has chyvalyre], 298.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30235 ***</div>
+
+<div class="notebox">
+<p>Transcriber's Notes: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
+corrected. A complete <a href="#TN">list</a> as well as other notes follows the text.</p>
+
+<p>Click on the page number to see an image of the page.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="gap"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>[<a href="./images/1.png">1</a>]</span></p>
+<p class="p4"><span class="u">Select English Classics</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH<br />
+POETRY</h1>
+
+<h2>TENNYSON TO CHAUCER</h2>
+
+<h3><i>TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM THE GREAT<br />
+POETS</i></h3>
+
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h2>JAMES BALDWIN, <span class="smcap">Ph.D.</span></h2>
+
+<h5><span class="smcap">Author of "The Book Lover"</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">etc., etc.</span></h5>
+
+
+<p class="biggap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>SILVER, BURDETT &amp; COMPANY</h3>
+<h4><span class="smcap">New York</span> .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. BOSTON .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. <span class="smcap">Chicago</span></h4>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[<a href="./images/2.png">2</a>]</span></p>
+<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright</span> 1892,</h4>
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> SILVER, BURDETT &amp; COMPANY.</h3>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>[<a href="./images/3.png">3</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>PUBLISHERS' NOTE.</h2>
+
+<p>This is the first volume of a series of <span class="smcap">Select English Classics</span> which
+the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an
+extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of
+English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in
+schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens
+from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose;
+selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; choice extracts from the writings
+of the great essayists; selections from famous English allegories; a
+volume of elegies and elegiacal poetry; studies of English prose
+fiction, with illustrative specimens, etc. Each volume will contain
+copious notes, critical, explanatory, and biographical, besides the
+necessary vocabularies, glossaries, and indexes; and the series when
+complete will present a varied and comprehensive view of all that is
+best in English literature. For supplementary reading, as well as for
+systematic class instruction, the books will possess many peculiarly
+valuable as well as novel features; while their attractive appearance,
+combined with the sterling quality of their contents, will commend them
+for general reading and make them desirable acquisitions for every
+library.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>[<a href="./images/4.png">4</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.</h2>
+
+<p>There is but one study more interesting than the history of literature,
+and that is the study of literature itself. That the former should often
+be mistaken for the latter is scarcely to be wondered at when we
+consider the intimate and almost indivisible relationship existing
+between them. Yet, in truth, they are as capable of separate
+consideration as are music and the history of music.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Anglo-Saxon Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>Any careful investigation of the history of English poetry would
+naturally begin at a point of time some six or seven hundred years
+earlier than that of Chaucer. From such investigation we should learn
+that even as early as the ninth century&mdash;perhaps, indeed, the
+eighth&mdash;there were in England some composers of verse in the Anglo-Saxon
+tongue; that the songs of these poets were chiefly of religion or of
+war, and that being written in a language very different from our modern
+English they can scarcely be considered as belonging properly to our
+literature; that among them, however, is a noble poem, "Beowulf," the
+oldest epic of any modern people, which was probably sung or recited by
+pagan minstrels long before it was written down in permanent form; that,
+after the conquest of England by the Normans, the early language of the
+<span class="sidenote">The Transition Period.</span>English people underwent a long and tedious process of transition,&mdash;a
+blending, in a certain sense, with the Latinized and more polished
+tongue of their conquerors,&mdash;and that the result was the language which
+we now call English and are proud to claim as our own; that it was about
+three hundred years after the Norman Conquest, namely, in 1362, that
+this new tongue was officially recognized and authorized to be used in
+the courts at law throughout the land; and that about the same time
+Geoffrey Chaucer composed and wrote his first poems. We should learn,
+moreover, that, during the transition period mentioned above, there were
+many attempts at writing poetry, resulting in the production of tedious
+metrical romances (chiefly translated from the French) and interminable
+rhyming chronicles, pleasing, of course, to the people of that time, but
+wholly devoid of poetic <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[<a href="./images/5.png">5</a>]</span>excellence and unspeakably dull to modern
+readers; that these poems, so called, were little better than rhymed
+doggerels, written in couplets of eight-syllabled lines and having for
+their subjects the miraculous deeds of saints and heroes and the
+occurrence of supernatural or impossible phenomena; that the composers
+of these metrical romances and chronicles, although giving free rein to
+the imagination, were utterly destitute of poetic fancy and hence
+produced no true poetry; that, nevertheless, some writer was now and
+then inspired by a flash of real poetic fire, producing a few lines of
+remarkable freshness and beauty,&mdash;little lyrics shining forth like gems
+in the great mass of verbiage and rubbish and foretelling the glorious
+possibilities which were to be realized in the future.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Piers Ploughman.</div>
+
+<p>Continuing this most interesting study, we should learn that just at the
+time that Chaucer was beginning the composition of his immortal works,
+there appeared an allegorical poem of considerable length, so earnest in
+tone, so richly imaginative, so full of picturesque descriptions, that
+it seemed rather a fulfilment than a prophecy; that this poem&mdash;called
+"The Vision of William concerning Piers Ploughman," and written by an
+obscure monk whose name was probably William Langland&mdash;was the greatest
+poem and the most popular that had ever been written in England, and yet
+that it failed in many ways of being true English poetry: its metre was
+irregular, and its rhythm was imperfect; its verses instead of rhyming
+were constructed in accordance with certain rules of alliteration; its
+subjects, while interesting, no doubt, to those for whom it was written,
+were not such as bring into play the highest powers of the imagination
+or incite the poetic fancy to its noblest flights. Then we should learn
+that while the ink from good Langland's pen was yet scarcely dry after
+his third revision of "Piers Ploughman," Geoffrey Chaucer came forward
+with his sweet imaginings bodied in immortal verse, his tuneful numbers,
+his "well of English undefiled,"&mdash;and English poetry, which now for more
+than five centuries has been the chief glory of our literature, had its
+true beginning.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Three Schools of Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>Pursuing the study on lines which would now be more distinctly marked,
+we should observe that Chaucer's best poetry, as well as that of the
+poets who followed him in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was
+distinguished by its truthfulness to nature, by its expression in hearty
+and harmonious words of the finer emotions of the soul, and by the
+freedom and elasticity of its versification. We should learn that in the
+seventeenth century this style of poetry&mdash;sometimes called the
+romantic&mdash;was succeeded by another and very different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>[<a href="./images/6.png">6</a>]</span>fashion in poetic
+composition, introduced into England in imitation of continental and
+classical models: that this new style of versification&mdash;ignoring nature
+and making everything subservient to art&mdash;was purely artificial,
+characterized by "an oratorical pomp, a classical correctness, a
+theatrical dressing, abundance of moralizing"; and that, with Waller for
+its sponsor and Dryden and Pope for its high priests, it remained for a
+century and a half the favorite of the literary world, the model of
+poetic diction, the standard of poetic taste. We should learn that,
+towards the end of the eighteenth century, certain writers began to
+perceive that although attention to artistic rules in composition may be
+necessary to the best poetry, yet natural feeling, a cultivated
+imagination, and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations
+are even more indispensable; that these writers, rebelling against the
+established order of things, taught that there are elements of true
+poetry in the popular ballads of earlier times, that even the wearisome
+metrical romances of the Middle Ages are rich in suggestiveness and in
+materials for a nobler poetry, and that, instead of going to the
+classics and to society for subjects and models, the poet may find them
+in nature, in the life which is about him, and in a thousand sources
+never before suspected. Finally, we should learn that, at the very time
+when great revolutions in politics and philosophy were being
+inaugurated, a new spirit thus began to manifest itself in our
+literature,&mdash;a spirit of revolt against artificial restrictions and
+traditional methods,&mdash;which produced a glorious revival in English
+poetic composition and ushered in a third great school of poetry,
+distinguished for its breadth and freedom, as that which it superseded
+had been known for its elegance and precision.<a name="FNanchor_6:1_1" id="FNanchor_6:1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6:1_1" class="fnanchor">[6:1]</a></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The History of English Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>A study of the development of English poetry such as we have outlined
+above would involve a knowledge of the history of the English people and
+of the various circumstances and events which from time to time
+influenced our language and literature. It would also embrace many other
+topics, biographical, philological, rhetorical, and speculative, which
+have only a secondary relationship to the central idea of poetry. In
+fact, it would be a study not of poetry, but about poetry,&mdash;of the
+circumstances which suggested it, of the men who produced it, and of the
+origin of the word-forms and methods of versification which distinguish
+it. Such a study, altogether interesting and eminently profitable though
+it be, should not be undertaken by any student until he has acquired an
+extensive <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[<a href="./images/7.png">7</a>]</span>personal acquaintance with poetry itself. We may enjoy the
+beautiful creations of Tennyson, of Shelley, of Burns, even of Chaucer,
+without knowing one word of the history of poetry, without so much as
+knowing the names of the writers or the circumstances under which they
+wrote. But, on the other hand, to him who knows nothing of the
+masterpieces of our literature, save at second hand, the history of
+English letters must of necessity be dull, uninteresting, and often
+unintelligible. While to him who has prepared himself for its study by
+fitting himself for an appreciation of these noble creations and
+becoming thoroughly imbued with their spirit, what a field of delightful
+study does it offer!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Object of this Book.</div>
+
+<p>The object of the present compilation is to aid in this preparatory
+work,&mdash;that is, to offer a plan for promoting the study <span class="smcap">of</span> poetry before
+the broader but less important study <span class="smcap">about</span> poetry is undertaken. To this
+end we present for the student's consideration a few representative
+poems written at different times and by men of widely different tastes
+and talents during the six centuries which may be said to have elapsed
+since the formation of the modern English tongue. Our chief aim is to
+lead to such a study of these selections as shall help the reader to
+perceive and appreciate their true poetic qualities and enter into full
+sympathy with the thoughts and feelings which their writers intended to
+express. <span class="sidenote">Methods of Study.</span> The first object to be sought in the study of these poems is
+the perception of those characteristic excellences which have made them
+universally admired and placed them among the classics of our language.
+To accomplish this object rationally and successfully, it is best to
+begin with those productions which are nearest to us in point of time
+and which are more in harmony with our own thoughts, and therefore
+easiest to understand and enjoy. An attempt to pursue these studies in
+chronological order, beginning with the works of Chaucer and the older
+poets, would oblige the student to encounter at the outset so many
+purely mechanical difficulties that he would fail to discern the
+spiritual qualities of truth, beauty, and goodness, which are the very
+essence of all genuine poetry. He would very naturally acquire a
+distaste for poetry long before he was able to understand it, and while
+he might attain to some considerable knowledge of the history of
+poetical literature, that literature itself would remain to him
+practically a sealed book. Hence, in the study of this subject, as in
+that of other branches, the true method is to present first that which
+is the least difficult, to "proceed from the known to the unknown," to
+begin with that which is near at hand and from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[<a href="./images/8.png">8</a>]</span>it to proceed to the
+consideration of things more remote. Not only are the most of Tennyson's
+poems easily understood, but their beauty is readily apparent even to
+the most superficial readers. By the time we have read and extracted all
+the sweets from three or four of these, we shall be prepared to go a
+step farther and undertake the study of Wordsworth's immortal
+productions,&mdash;productions but little more difficult and but little less
+poetic. Thus, step by step, we may review the six centuries of English
+poetry which lie behind, and when at last we reach the time of Chaucer
+we shall be able to take hold of his works with understanding and with
+the zest which is begotten of true sympathy and appreciation. After the
+book has been thus completed, it may be well to run through it again,
+reversing the order of the lessons and this time considering the
+subjects in strict chronological order. Our first study of the book will
+have introduced us to English poetry, our second study of it will have
+given us some insight into the history of its development.</p>
+
+<p>It is well to remember, while pursuing this course, that a taste for
+poetry is not acquired or fostered by an analysis of grammatical forms
+or by any study of words merely as such. To analyze a puzzling sentence
+or to trace the derivation of an interesting word to its roots sometimes
+helps one to understand a difficult expression or to perceive in it a
+meaning hitherto unsuspected; but to make the study of any selection
+consist largely of exercises of this kind is to substitute grammar or
+philology for literature. So, also, should it be borne in mind that
+while it is often interesting and sometimes necessary to become
+acquainted with certain details relative to the life of an author&mdash;the
+date of his birth, the character of his education, the influences which
+shaped his life and his work&mdash;yet such knowledge belongs to biography
+and is in no sense literature. The study of authors should never be
+substituted for the study of their works, and is usually profitable only
+so far as it helps the student to understand the peculiarities which
+distinguish those works and which are the result of certain personal
+characteristics. And yet it is no uncommon thing to find students
+acquainted with the minutest particulars in the lives of the great
+writers, while of the masterpieces of thought and expression, which are
+the glory of our literature, they betray a deplorable ignorance. Nor is
+this the case with pupils at school alone. "For once that we take down a
+Milton, and read a book of that 'voice,' as Wordsworth says, 'whose
+sound is like the sea,' we take up fifty times a magazine with something
+about Milton, or about Milton's grandmother, or a book stuffed with
+curious facts <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[<a href="./images/9.png">9</a>]</span>about the houses in which he lived, and the juvenile
+ailments of his first wife."<a name="FNanchor_9:1_2" id="FNanchor_9:1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_9:1_2" class="fnanchor">[9:1]</a></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Practical Suggestions.</div>
+
+<p>In the study of the selections contained in this volume, the following
+method is recommended:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>1. The piece should be thoroughly committed to memory.</p>
+
+<p>2. It should be recited or read by each member of the class in such
+manner as to bring out, if possible, his understanding of the meaning of
+every passage.</p>
+
+<p>3. Study the poem as a whole, and let each pupil point out the beauties
+of thought or expression which distinguish it as a poetical composition.</p>
+
+<p>4. Now study each stanza, or each independent thought, in its order, and
+endeavor to understand each word or expression just as the poet intended
+that it should be understood. The Notes appended to most of the
+selections are intended rather to suggest the line of study in this
+regard than to serve as exhaustive aids. The pupil should, so far as
+possible, investigate for himself and make his own discoveries.
+Questions concerning the derivation of words and the syntax of sentences
+are to be discussed only so far as they will aid in the understanding of
+some passage or of the piece as a whole.</p>
+
+<p>5. Learn some of the most important facts connected with the author's
+life. What were the conditions under which he wrote this piece? What was
+the character of his education and of the other influences which shaped
+his life and distinguished his works? Learn what some of the leading
+critics have said concerning his works as a poet.</p>
+
+<p>6. Finally, read the poem again, as a whole, and discuss its qualities
+as a work of literary art, and again point out its distinctive beauties
+and characteristic excellences.</p>
+
+<p>The extracts given at the beginning of each Century will serve to keep
+in mind the leading peculiarities which distinguished the poetry of each
+period; and the lists of poets and their works will be found valuable
+for purposes of reference. Before beginning the study of the selections
+both teacher and pupils should read this Introduction carefully.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6:1_1" id="Footnote_6:1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6:1_1"><span class="label">[6:1]</span></a> See the quotation from Taine, page <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9:1_2" id="Footnote_9:1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9:1_2"><span class="label">[9:1]</span></a> Frederic Harrison: <i>On the Choice of Books</i>.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[<a href="./images/10.png">10</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="table of contents" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="2" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="3">PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdright" colspan="3"><span style="font-size: 70%;">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Introduction</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Nineteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Eighteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Seventeenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Sixteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Fifteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Fourteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Index</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="3">POEMS.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Alfred Tennyson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Lady of Shalott</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Brook</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Wordsworth:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 3em;">Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Two April Mornings</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Solitary Reaper</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By S. T. Coleridge:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Christabel. Part I</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Percy Bysshe Shelley:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To a Skylark</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Hymn of Pan</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From Epipsychidion</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>[<a href="./images/11.png">11</a>]</span><span class="smcap">By John Keats:</span>&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Ode to a Nightingale</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From The Eve of St. Agnes</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Burns:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Cotter's Saturday Night</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To a Mountain Daisy</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">For a' that and a' that</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Cowper:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Boadicea</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Epitaph on a Hare</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Oliver Goldsmith:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Village Parson</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Village Schoolmaster</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Thomas Gray:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Bard</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Alexander Pope:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From the Essay on Criticism</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Ode on St. Cecilia's Day</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Dryden:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Alexander's Feast</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Fire of London</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Reason and Religion</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Milton:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Morning of Christ's Nativity</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Herrick:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Phillis</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Mad Maid's Song</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Thanksgiving to God</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Edmund Waller:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Song: Go, lovely Rose</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Of English Verse</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On a Girdle</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Ben Jonson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">An Ode to Himself</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Cynthia</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To the Memory of William Shakespeare</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Herrick's Ode for Ben Jonson</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[<a href="./images/12.png">12</a>]</span><span class="smcap">By William Shakespeare:</span>&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Venus's Advice to Adonis on Hunting</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Morning Song for Imogen</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sigh no more, Ladies</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sunshine and Cloud (Sonnet xxxiii.)</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The World's Way (Sonnet lxvi.)</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Edmund Spenser:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Cave of Mammon</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Prothalamion; or, a Spousall Verse</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Thomas Wyatt:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Love Song</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Courtier's Life</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By the Earl of Surrey:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From Virgil's &AElig;neid</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sonnet: Geraldine</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Ballads:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Waly, waly</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sir Patrick Spens</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Robin Hood and the Widow's three Sons</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Skelton:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Maystress Margaret Hussey</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Cardinal Wolsey</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Lydgate:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Visit to London</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Golden Age</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Henryson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Garmond of Fair Ladies</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Dunbar:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A May Morning</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Gawain Douglas:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">In Praise of Honour</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Geoffrey Chaucer:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[<a href="./images/13.png">13</a>]</span></p>
+<h1>SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY.</h1>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>[<a href="./images/14.png">14</a>]</span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[<a href="./images/15.png">15</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Nineteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>Now appeared the English romantic school, a sect of 'dissenters in
+poetry,' who spoke out aloud, kept themselves close together, and
+repelled settled minds by the audacity and novelty of their theories.
+They had violently broken with tradition, and leaped over all classical
+culture, to take their models from the Renaissance and the middle-age.
+They sought, in the old national ballads and ancient poetry of foreign
+lands, the fresh and primitive accent which had been wanting in
+classical literature, and whose presence seemed to them to be a sign of
+truth and beauty. They proposed to adapt to poetry the ordinary language
+of conversation, such as is spoken in the middle and lower classes, and
+to replace studied phrases and a lofty vocabulary by natural tones and
+plebeian words. In place of the classic mould, they tried stanzas,
+sonnets, ballads, blank verse, with the roughness and subdivisions of
+the primitive poets.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Some had culled gigantic legends, piled up
+dreams, ransacked the East, Greece, Arabia, the Middle Ages, and
+overloaded the human imagination with hues and fancies from every clime.
+Others had buried themselves in metaphysics and moral philosophy, had
+mused indefatigably on the condition of man, and spent their lives on
+the sublime and the monotonous. Others, making a medley of crime and
+heroism, had conducted, through darkness and flashes of lightning, a
+train of contorted and terrible figures, desperate with remorse,
+relieved by their grandeur. Men wanted to rest after so many efforts and
+so much success. On the going out of the imaginative, sentimental, and
+Satanic school, Tennyson appeared exquisite. All the forms and ideas
+which had pleased them were found in him, but purified, modulated, set
+in a splendid style. He completed an age.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[<a href="./images/16.png">16</a>]</span></p>
+<h3><i>Poets of the Nineteenth Century.</i></h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Wordsworth</b> (1770-1850). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Walter Scott</b> (1771-1832). "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"; "The Lady
+of the Lake"; "Marmion"; "The Lord of the Isles"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</b> (1772-1834). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Southey</b> (1774-1843). "Thalaba"; "Roderick, the last of the
+Goths"; "Joan of Arc"; "Madoc"; "The Curse of Kehama"; numerous short
+poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Lamb</b> (1775-1834). Chiefly short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Walter Savage Landor</b> (1775-1864). "Gebir"; and other poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Campbell</b> (1777-1844). "Gertrude of Wyoming"; "The Pleasures of
+Hope"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Moore</b> (1779-1852). "Irish Melodies"; "Lalla Rookh"; "Rhymes on
+the Road"; "The Loves of the Angels," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Leigh Hunt</b> (1784-1859). "Francesca Rimini"; "A Legend of Florence";
+"Stories in Verse," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Bryan Waller Procter</b> ("Barry Cornwall") (1787-1874). "A Sicilian Story";
+"English Songs," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Byron</b> (George Gordon Noel) (1788-1824). "Childe Harold"; "The
+Giaour"; "Bride of Abydos"; "The Corsair"; "Lara"; "Hebrew Melodies";
+"Siege of Corinth"; "Parisina"; "Manfred"; "Don Juan," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Percy Bysshe Shelley</b> (1792-1822). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Keats</b> (1795-1821). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Hood</b> (1799-1845). Numerous short poems, chiefly humorous.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Macaulay</b> (1800-1859). "Lays of Ancient Rome."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</b> (1809-1861). "Prometheus Bound"; "Casa Guidi
+Windows"; "Sonnets from the Portuguese"; "Aurora Leigh"; "Poems before
+Congress"; "Last Poems."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Alfred Tennyson</b> (Lord Tennyson) (1809-&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Monckton Milnes</b> (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885). "Historical Poems";
+"Poetry for the People"; "Poems of Many Years."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Browning</b> (1812-1889). "Christmas Eve and Easter Day"; "Men and
+Women"; "The Ring and the Book"; "Balaustion's Adventure"; "Fifine at
+the Fair"; "Aristophanes' Apology," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Edmondstoune Aytoun</b> (1813-1865). "Lays of the Scottish
+Cavaliers"; "Ballads of Scotland," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Arthur Hugh Clough</b> (1819-1861). "The Bothie"; "Ambarvalia," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Kingsley</b> (1819-1875). "Andromeda"; many short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Matthew Arnold</b> (1822-1889). "The Strayed Reveller and other Poems";
+"Balder."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Adelaide Anne Procter</b> (1825-1864). "Legends and Lyrics"; "A Chaplet of
+Verses."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Bulwer-Lytton</b> ("Owen Meredith") (1831-1892). "Lucile"; "Marah,"
+etc.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[<a href="./images/17.png">17</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Alfred Tennyson.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE LADY OF SHALOTT.</h2>
+
+<h3>PART I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On either side the river lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long fields of barley and of rye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That clothe the wold<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1" class="marker">1</a> and meet the sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the fields the road runs by<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To many-towered Camelot<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2" class="marker">2</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And up and down the people go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazing where the lilies blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round an island there below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The island of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Willows whiten, aspens quiver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little breezes dusk<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3" class="marker">3</a> and shiver<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the wave that runs forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the island in the river<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flowing down to Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four gray walls, and four gray towers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Overlook a space of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the silent isle imbowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the margin, willow-veiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slide the heavy barges, trailed<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[<a href="./images/18.png">18</a>]</span><span class="i0">By slow horses; and unhailed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Skimming down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who hath seen her wave her hand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the casement seen her stand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is she known in all the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lady of Shalott?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Only reapers, reaping early<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In among the bearded barley,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear a song that echoes cheerly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the river winding clearly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down to towered Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the moon the reaper weary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Piling sheaves in uplands airy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listening, whispers, "'Tis the fairy<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lady of Shalott."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There she weaves by night and day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A magic web<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5" class="marker">5</a> with colors gay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She has heard a whisper say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A curse is on her if she stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To look down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knows not what the curse may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so she weaveth steadily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And little other care hath she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And moving through a mirror clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hangs before her all the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadows of the world appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[<a href="./images/19.png">19</a>]</span><span class="i0">There she sees the highway near<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Winding down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There the river-eddy whirls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there the surly village-churls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the red cloaks of market girls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pass onward from Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An abbott on an ambling pad,<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or long-haired page in crimson clad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Goes by to towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometimes through the mirror blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The knights come riding two and two:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She hath no loyal knight and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But in her web she still delights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To weave the mirrored magic sights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For often through the silent nights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A funeral, with plumes and lights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And music, went to Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, when the moon was overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came two young lovers lately wed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I am half-sick of shadows," said<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rode between the barley-sheaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun came dazzling through the leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flamed upon the brazen greaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of bold Sir Lancelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[<a href="./images/20.png">20</a>]</span><span class="i0">A red-cross<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8" class="marker">8</a> knight forever kneeled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a lady in his shield<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sparkled on the yellow field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The gemmy bridle glittered free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like to some branch of stars we see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hung in the golden Galaxy.<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bridle-bells rang merrily<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from his blazoned baldric<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10" class="marker">10</a> slung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty silver bugle hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as he rode his armor rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All in the blue unclouded weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The helmet and the helmet-feather<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burned like one burning flame together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As often through the purple night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Below the starry clusters bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some bearded meteor,<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11" class="marker">11</a> trailing light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Moves over still Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From underneath his helmet flowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His coal-black curls as on he rode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the bank and from the river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He flashed<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12" class="marker">12</a> into the crystal mirror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Tirra lirra," by the river<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sang Sir Lancelot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[<a href="./images/21.png">21</a>]</span><span class="i0">She left the web, she left the loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She made three paces through the room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw the water-lily bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw the helmet and the plume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She looked down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out flew the web and floated wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mirror cracked from side to side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The curse is come upon me," cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the stormy east-wind straining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pale yellow woods were waning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broad stream in his banks complaining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavily the low sky raining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Over towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down she came and found a boat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a willow left afloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round about the prow she wrote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And down the river's dim expanse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like some bold se&euml;r in a trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeing all his own mischance&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a glassy countenance<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Did she look to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the closing of the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She loosed the chain, and down she lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broad stream bore her far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lying, robed in snowy white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That loosely flew to left and right&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[<a href="./images/22.png">22</a>]</span><span class="i0">The leaves upon her falling light&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the noises of the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She floated down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the boat-head wound along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The willowy hills and fields among,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They heard her singing her last song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heard a carol, mournful, holy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till her blood was frozen slowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her eyes were darkened wholly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turned to towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ere she reached upon the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The first house by the water-side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing in her song she died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Under tower and balcony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By garden-wall and gallery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gleaming shape she floated by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A corse between the houses high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Silent into Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out upon the wharfs they came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knight and burgher, lord and dame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round the prow they read her name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who is this? and what is here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the lighted palace near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Died the sound of royal cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they crossed themselves for fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All the knights at Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>[<a href="./images/23.png">23</a>]</span><span class="i0">But Lancelot mused a little space;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "She has a lovely face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God in his mercy lend her grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1832. Considered as a picture, or as a series
+of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The story which is here so
+briefly told is founded upon a touching legend connected with the
+romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tennyson
+afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the <i>Idyll</i> called "Elaine,"
+wherein he followed more closely the original narrative as related by
+Sir Thomas Malory.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the Round
+Table, and for him Elaine, "the fair maid of Astolat," conceived a
+hopeless passion. "Her love was platonic and pure as that of a child,
+but it was masterful in its strength." Having learned that Lancelot was
+pledged to celibacy, she pined away and died. But before her death she
+called her brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write,
+she spake thus:</p>
+
+<p>"'While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand, and
+my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be put in
+a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have about me, and so let
+my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot to the next
+place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a barge, and but
+one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barge
+be covered with black samite over and over.' .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. So when she was dead,
+the corpse and the bed and all was led the next way unto the Thames, and
+there all were put in a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the
+barge to Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or
+any man espied."<a name="FNanchor_23:A_3" id="FNanchor_23:A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_23:A_3" class="fnanchor">[23:A]</a> At length the King and his Knights, coming down
+to the waterside, and seeing the boat and the lily maid of Astolat, they
+uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Most noble Lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I, sometime called the maid of Astolat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Come, for you left me taking no farewell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Hither, to take my last farewell of you.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>[<a href="./images/24.png">24</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">I loved you, and my love had no return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And therefore my true love has been my death.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pray for my soul and yield me burial.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pray for my soul thou too Sir Lancelot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As thou art a knight peerless.'"<a name="FNanchor_24:A_4" id="FNanchor_24:A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_24:A_4" class="fnanchor">[24:A]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And so the maid was buried, "not as one unknown, nor meanly, but with
+gorgeous obsequies, and mass and rolling music, like a queen. And the
+story of her dolorous voyage was blazoned on her tomb in letters gold
+and azure."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1">1.</a> <b>wold.</b> An open tract of hilly country, where but few trees are left.
+This word is more frequently used, however, to designate a forest or
+thick wood.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2">2.</a> <b>Camelot.</b> It is supposed that this Camelot was Winchester. It was the
+seat of King Arthur's court, and visitors are still shown the remains of
+what appear to have been certain kinds of intrenchments, which the
+inhabitants call "King Arthur's Palace." Sir Thomas Malory says: "Sir
+Ballin's sword was put into marble stone, standing it upright as a great
+millstone, and it swam down the stream to the city of Camelot, that is,
+in English, Wincheste." There was another Camelot, also King Arthur's
+capital, on the river Camel, in Cornwall, to which Shakespeare makes
+reference in <i>King Lear</i>, II, ii. Tennyson, in "Gareth and Lynette,"
+describes the appearance of the city when approached in the early
+morning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Far off they saw the silver-misty morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That rose between the forest and the field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At times the summit of the high city flash'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At times the spires and turrets half-way down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great gate shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Only, that open'd on the field below:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3">3.</a> <b>dusk.</b> Produce a ruffled surface. A very rare use of this word. The
+river referred to is probably the Thames.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4">4.</a> <b>trailed.</b> Lat. <i>traho</i>, to draw; Dutch <i>treilen</i>, to tow. What picture
+is presented to the imagination in the first five lines of this stanza?
+How do the barges differ in appearance and movement from the shallop
+mentioned two lines below?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5">5.</a> <b>web.</b> Anything woven. <b>stay.</b> Stop.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6">6.</a> <b>pad.</b> An easy-going saddle-horse; a palfrey. Describe the picture
+which is presented in this stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7">7.</a> Explain the meaning of the Lady's exclamation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>[<a href="./images/25.png">25</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8">8.</a> <b>red-cross knight.</b> A Knight wearing a red cross. One of King Arthur's
+Knights. The red-cross Knight in Spenser's <i>Faerie Queene</i> symbolizes
+holiness.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And dead, as living ever, him ador'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9">9.</a> <b>Galaxy.</b> The milky-way. Gr. <i>gala</i>, <i>galaktos</i>, milk.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10">10.</a> <b>baldric.</b> A belt thrown over the shoulder. From Lat. <i>balteus</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11">11.</a> <b>bearded meteor.</b> A shooting-star emitting rays of light in the
+direction in which it moves. The beard of a comet is the light which it
+throws out in front of it, in distinction from the tail or rays behind.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12">12.</a> <b>He flashed.</b> His image was thrown upon and reflected from.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13">13.</a> "<b>Tirra lirra.</b>" French <i>tire lire</i>. Probably intended to imitate the
+note of the lark.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23:A_3" id="Footnote_23:A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23:A_3"><span class="label">[23:A]</span></a> Malory's King Arthur, Part III.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24:A_4" id="Footnote_24:A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24:A_4"><span class="label">[24:A]</span></a> Tennyson's Elaine.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BROOK.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I come from haunts of coot<a name="marker_The_Brook_1" id="marker_The_Brook_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_1" class="marker">1</a> and hern,<a name="marker_The_Brook_2" id="marker_The_Brook_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I make a sudden sally,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sparkle out among the fern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To bicker<a name="marker_The_Brook_3" id="marker_The_Brook_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_3" class="marker">3</a> down a valley.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By thirty hills I hurry down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or slip between the ridges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By twenty thorps,<a name="marker_The_Brook_4" id="marker_The_Brook_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_4" class="marker">4</a> a little town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And half a hundred bridges.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till last by Philip's farm I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[<a href="./images/26.png">26</a>]</span><span class="i0">I chatter over stony ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In little sharps and trebles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I bubble into eddying bays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I babble on the pebbles.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With many a curve my banks I fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By many a field and fallow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a fairy foreland<a name="marker_The_Brook_5" id="marker_The_Brook_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_5" class="marker">5</a> set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With willow-weed and mallow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With here a blossom sailing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here and there a lusty trout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here and there a grayling,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And here and there a foamy flake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon me, as I travel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many a silvery waterbreak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the golden gravel,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And draw them all along, and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I slide by hazel<a name="marker_The_Brook_6" id="marker_The_Brook_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_6" class="marker">6</a> covers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That grow for happy lovers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[<a href="./images/27.png">27</a>]</span><span class="i0">I slip, I slide, I gloom,<a name="marker_The_Brook_7" id="marker_The_Brook_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_7" class="marker">7</a> I glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Among my skimming swallows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I make the netted sunbeams dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against my shady shallows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I murmur under moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In brambly wildernesses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I linger by my shingly<a name="marker_The_Brook_8" id="marker_The_Brook_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_8" class="marker">8</a> bars;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I loiter round my cresses;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And out again I curve and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This little lyric forms a part of "an idyl" of the same title, published
+in 1855. The poet introduces it in the following manner:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And he to Italy&mdash;too late&mdash;too late:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;. Yet the brook he loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;. seems, as I re-listen to it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To me that loved him; for, 'O brook,' he says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">'I come from haunts of coot and hern,'" etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In reading this poem, observe how strikingly the sound is made to
+correspond to the sense.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Brook_1" id="Note_The_Brook_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_1">1.</a> <b>coot.</b> A wild water-fowl, resembling the duck.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_2" id="Note_The_Brook_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_2">2.</a> <b>hern.</b> Heron.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_3" id="Note_The_Brook_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_3">3.</a> <b>bicker.</b> To move unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_4" id="Note_The_Brook_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_4">4.</a> <b>thorps.</b> Small villages. A. S. <i>thorpe</i>. From Ger. <i>trupp</i>, a troop.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_5" id="Note_The_Brook_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_5">5.</a> <b>foreland.</b> A promontory.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_6" id="Note_The_Brook_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_6">6.</a> <b>hazel covers.</b> Hazel thickets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_7" id="Note_The_Brook_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_7">7.</a> <b>gloom.</b> Glimmer, shine obscurely.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_8" id="Note_The_Brook_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_8">8.</a> <b>shingly.</b> Gravelly.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[<a href="./images/28.png">28</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE LOTOS-EATERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the afternoon they came unto a land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which it seemed always afternoon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All round the coast the languid air did swoon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like a downward smoke, the slender stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some through wavering lights and shadows broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They saw the gleaming river seaward flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The charmed sunset lingered low adown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was seen far inland, and the yellow down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And meadow, set with slender galingale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A land where all things always seemed the same!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round about the keel with faces pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>[<a href="./images/29.png">29</a>]</span><span class="i0">Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To each, but whoso did receive of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taste, to him the gushing of the wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And music in his ears his beating heart did make.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They sat them down upon the yellow sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the sun and moon upon the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then some one said, "We will return no more;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all at once they sang, "Our island home<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 30%;" />
+<h2>CHORIC SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is sweet music here that softer falls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than petals from blown roses on the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or night-dews on still waters between walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here are cool mosses deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thro' the moss the ivies creep,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[<a href="./images/30.png">30</a>]</span><span class="i0">And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And utterly consumed with sharp distress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all things else have rest from weariness?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things have rest: why should we toil alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We only toil, who are the first of things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make perpetual moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still from one sorrow to another thrown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever fold our wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cease from wanderings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"There is no joy but calm!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo! in the middle of the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With winds upon the branch, and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grows green and broad, and takes no care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sun-steeped at noon, and in the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falls, and floats adown the air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! sweetened with the summer light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drops in a silent autumn night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All its allotted length of days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flower ripens in its place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[<a href="./images/31.png">31</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hateful is the dark-blue sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death is the end of life; ah, why<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should life all labour be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in a little while our lips are dumb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. What is it that will last?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things are taken from us, and become<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. What pleasure can we have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To war with evil? Is there any peace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In ever climbing up the climbing wave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With half-shut eyes ever to seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falling asleep in a half-dream!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dream and dream, like yonder amber light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear each other's whispered speech;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eating the Lotos day by day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tender curving lines of creamy spray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lend our hearts and spirits wholly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To muse and brood and live again in memory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With those old faces of our infancy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaped over with a mound of grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[<a href="./images/32.png">32</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dear the last embraces of our wives<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their warm tears: but all hath suffered change;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For surely now our household hearths are cold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or else the island-princes over-bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before them of the ten-years' war in Troy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there confusion in the little isle?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let what is broken so remain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gods are hard to reconcile:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis hard to settle order once again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There <i>is</i> confusion worse than death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long labour unto aged breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, propped on beds of amaranth and moly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With half-dropped eyelids still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a heaven dark and holy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the long bright river drawing slowly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His waters from the purple hill&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear the dewy echoes calling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the emerald-coloured water falling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>[<a href="./images/33.png">33</a>]</span><span class="i0">Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lotos blows by every winding creek:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We have had enough of action, and of motion we,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>[<a href="./images/34.png">34</a>]</span><span class="i0">Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they perish and they suffer&mdash;some, 'tis whispered, down in hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>"Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
+teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the
+lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew
+water, and straightway my company took their mid-day meal by the swift
+ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink, I sent forth certain of my
+company to go and make search of what manner of men they were who here
+live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and
+sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed
+with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters
+devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste.
+Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no
+more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide
+with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of
+his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and
+sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound
+them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved
+company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any
+should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning."&mdash;<i>Homer's
+Odyssey</i>, ix, 80.</p>
+
+<p>"In this poem, 'The Lotos-Eaters,' the artistic ideal of the young poet
+(it was written in 1830) found its most finished expression and its
+culminating point. Here he seems to have attained a consciousness that
+beyond the ideal which he had adopted there is another, larger, grander,
+and more satisfying. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the range of poetry, is
+the trance of a listless life so harmoniously married to appropriate
+melodies and appropriate accompaniments."&mdash;<i>North British Review.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[<a href="./images/35.png">35</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson</span> was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1809.
+His early education was received at home from his father, who was rector
+of Somersby and vicar of Bennington and Grimsby. He was afterwards sent
+to Trinity College, Cambridge, where, at the age of twenty, he received
+the chancellor's medal for a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo."
+In 1830 he published a small volume of "Poems chiefly Lyrical." A
+revised edition of this volume, published in 1833, contained "The Lady
+of Shalott," "The Lotos-Eaters," and others of his best-known short
+poems. In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed
+poet-laureate. In the same year he was married to Emily, daughter of
+Henry Sellwood, Esq., and niece of Sir John Franklin. Since 1851,
+Tennyson has resided for the greater part of the time at Farringford,
+Freshwater, Isle of Wight. In December, 1883, he was made Baron Tennyson
+of Aldworth and Freshwater.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Tennyson," says R. H. Hutton, "was an artist even before he was a
+poet; in other words, the eye for beauty, grace, and harmony of effect
+was even more emphatically one of his original gifts than the voice for
+poetic utterance itself. This, probably, it is which makes his very
+earliest pieces appear so full of effort, and sometimes even so full of
+affectation. They were elaborate attempts to embody what he saw, before
+the natural voice of the poet had come to him. I think it possible to
+trace not only a pre-poetic period in his art, but to date the period at
+which the soul was 'infused' into his poetry, and the brilliant external
+figures became the dwelling-places of germinating poetic thoughts
+creating their own music. Curiously enough, the first poem where there
+is any trace of those musings of the Round Table to which he has
+directed so much of his maturest genius, is also a confession that the
+poet was sick of the magic mirror of fancy and its picture-shadows, and
+was turning away from them to the poetry of human life. Whenever Mr.
+Tennyson's pictorial fancy has had it in any degree in its power to run
+away with the guiding and controlling mind, the richness and the
+workmanship have to some extent overgrown the spiritual principle of his
+poems. It is obvious, for instance, that even in relation to natural
+scenery, what his poetical faculty delights in most are rich, luxuriant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[<a href="./images/36.png">36</a>]</span>landscapes, in which either nature or man has accumulated a lavish
+variety of effects. It is in the scenery of the mill, the garden, the
+chase, the down, the rich pastures, the harvest-field, the palace
+pleasure-grounds, the Lord of Burleigh's fair domains, the luxuriant
+sylvan beauty, bearing testimony to the careful hand of man, 'the summer
+crisp with shining woods,' that Mr. Tennyson most delights. If he strays
+to rarer scenes, it is almost in search of richer and more luxuriant
+loveliness, like the tropical splendors of 'Enoch Arden' and the
+enervating skies which cheated the Lotos-Eaters of their longing for
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Tennyson," says a writer in the <i>North British Review</i>, "deserves
+an especial study, not only as a poet, but as a leader and a landmark of
+popular thought and feeling. As a poet, he belongs to the highest
+category of English writers; for poetry is the strongest and most
+vigorous branch of English literature. In this literature his works are
+evidently destined to secure a permanent place; for they express in
+language refined and artistic, but not unfamiliar, a large segment of
+the popular thought of the period over which they range. He has,
+moreover, a clearly marked if not strongly individualized style, which
+has served as a model for imitators, and as a starting-point for poets
+who have sought to improve upon it."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Principal Poems of Tennyson:</b> Charge of the Light Brigade, written in
+1854; Dora, 1842; The Dying Swan, 1830; Enoch Arden, 1864; Idylls of the
+King, 1859-1873,&mdash;to be read in the following order: The Coming of
+Arthur; Gareth and Lynette; Geraint and Enid; Merlin and Vivien;
+Lancelot and Elaine; The Holy Grail; Pelleas and Ettarre; The Last
+Tournament; Guinevere; The Passing of Arthur;&mdash;In Memoriam, 1850 (131
+parts); Locksley Hall, 1842; Locksley Hall Sixty Years Afterwards, 1886;
+Maud, 1855 (3 parts); The Princess, 1847 (7 parts); Ode on the Death of
+the Duke of Wellington, 1852.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">Dramatic Pieces:</span> Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876; The Cup, 1881; The
+Falcon, 1882; Becket, 1884; The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
+1892.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Stedman's <i>Victorian Poets</i>; Van Dyke's <i>The Poetry of
+Tennyson</i>; Taine's <i>History of English Literature</i>, vol. IV; Kingsley's
+<i>Miscellanies</i>; Elsdale's <i>Studies in the Idylls</i>; Buchanan's <i>Master
+Spirits</i>; Tainsh's <i>Studies in Tennyson</i>; Hutton's <i>Essays</i>; Chapman's
+<i>Companion to In Memoriam</i>; Walters's <i>In Tennyson Land</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[<a href="./images/37.png">37</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Wordsworth.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality" id="Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality"></a>ODE.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poemind"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Child is father<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" class="marker">1</a> of the Man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth, and every common sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To me did seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Apparelled<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" class="marker">2</a> in celestial light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory and the freshness of a dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not now as it hath been of yore;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Turn wheresoe'er I may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By night or day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The things which I have seen I now can see no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The rainbow comes and goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And lovely is the rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The moon doth with delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look round her when the heavens are bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[<a href="./images/38.png">38</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Waters on a starry night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are beautiful and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sunshine is a glorious birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But yet I know, where'er I go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And while the young lambs bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As to the tabor's<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" class="marker">3</a> sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me alone there came a thought of grief:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A timely utterance gave that thought relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I again am strong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cataracts<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" class="marker">4</a> blow their trumpets from the steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear the echoes<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" class="marker">5</a> through the mountains throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all the earth is gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Land and sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give themselves up to jollity,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with the heart of May<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doth every beast keep holiday.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou child of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd-boy!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye to each other make; I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My heart is at your festival.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My head hath its coronal,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fulness of your bliss, I feel&mdash;I feel it all.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[<a href="./images/39.png">39</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">Oh evil day if I were sullen<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While Earth herself is adorning<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">This sweet May morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the children are culling<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">On every side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In a thousand valleys far and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fresh flowers, while the sun shines warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the babe leaps up<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" class="marker">10</a> on his mother's arm:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&mdash;But there's a tree,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" class="marker">11</a> of many, one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A single field which I have looked upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both of them speak of something that is gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The pansy<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" class="marker">12</a> at my feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Doth the same tale repeat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither is fled the visionary gleam?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is it now, the glory and the dream?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our birth is but a sleep<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" class="marker">13</a> and a forgetting:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soul that rises with us, our life's star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hath had elsewhere its setting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And cometh from afar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not in entire forgetfulness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And not in utter nakedness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But trailing clouds of glory do we come<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From God, who is our home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven lies about us in our infancy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shades of the prison-house begin to close<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon the growing boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He sees it in his joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youth, who daily farther from the East<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Must travel, still is nature's priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[<a href="./images/40.png">40</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">And by the vision splendid<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is on his way attended;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length the man perceives it die away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fade into the light of common day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even with something of a mother's mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And no unworthy aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The homely nurse doth all she can<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make her foster-child, her inmate man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Forget the glories he hath known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that imperial palace whence he came.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold the child<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" class="marker">14</a> among his new-born blisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A six years' darling of a pigmy size!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With light upon him from his father's eyes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See at his feet some little plan or chart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some fragment from his dream of human life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shaped by himself with newly-learned art&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A wedding or a festival,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A mourning or a funeral;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And this hath now his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And unto this he frames his song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Then will he fit his tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dialogues of business, love, or strife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But it will not be long<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ere this be thrown aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And with new joy and pride<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[<a href="./images/41.png">41</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">The little actor cons another part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the persons, down to palsied age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Life brings with her in her equipage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As if his whole vocation<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Were endless imitation.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy soul's immensity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, best philosopher, who yet dost keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mighty prophet! seer blest!<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On whom those truths do rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which we are toiling all our lives to find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, over whom thy immortality<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A presence which is not to be put by;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou little child, yet glorious in the might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The years to bring the inevitable yoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And custom lie upon thee with a weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O joy, that in our embers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is something that doth live,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>[<a href="./images/42.png">42</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">That nature yet remembers<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What was so fugitive!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thought of our past years in me doth breed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perpetual benediction: not indeed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that which is most worthy to be blest&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delight and liberty, the simple creed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not for these I raise<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The song of thanks and praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But for those obstinate questionings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of sense and outward things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fallings from us, vanishings;<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blank misgivings<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" class="marker">18</a> of a creature<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moving about in worlds not realized,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High instincts before which our mortal nature<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But for those first affections,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Those shadowy recollections,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which, be they what they may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are yet the fountain light of all our day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are yet a master light of all our seeing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our noisy years seem moments in the being<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To perish never;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor man nor boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor all that is at enmity with joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can utterly abolish or destroy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hence in a season of calm weather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Though inland far we be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our souls have sight of that immortal sea<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[<a href="./images/43.png">43</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Which brought us hither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can in a moment travel thither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see the children sport upon the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>X.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sing, ye birds! sing, sing a joyous song!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And let the young lambs bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As to the tabor's sound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We in thought will join your throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ye that pipe and ye that play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ye that through your hearts to-day<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Feel the gladness of the May!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though the radiance which was once so bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be now forever taken from my sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though nothing can bring back the hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We will grieve not, rather find<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Strength in what remains behind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the primal sympathy<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which, having been, must ever be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the soothing thoughts that spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Out of human suffering;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the faith that looks through death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In years that bring the philosophic mind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forebode not any severing of our loves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only have relinquished one delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live beneath your more habitual sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love the brooks, which down their channels fret,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[<a href="./images/44.png">44</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The innocent brightness of a new-born day<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is lovely yet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clouds that gather round the setting sun<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do take a sober coloring from an eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another race hath been, and other palms are won.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thanks to the human heart by which we live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me the meanest flower that blows can give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This was composed," says Wordsworth, "during my residence at Town-End,
+Grasmere (1803-1806). Two years at least passed between the writing of
+the first four stanzas and the remaining part. To the attentive and
+competent reader the whole sufficiently explains itself, but there may
+be no harm in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my
+own mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was
+more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as
+a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5h">'A simple child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lightly draws its breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feels its life in every limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What should it know of death?'<a name="FNanchor_44:A_5" id="FNanchor_44:A_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_44:A_5" class="fnanchor">[44:A]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that <i>my</i>
+difficulty came, as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
+within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
+almost persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should
+be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a feeling
+congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external things as
+having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as
+something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
+Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
+recall myself from this abyss of idealism to reality. At that time I was
+afraid of mere processes. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[<a href="./images/45.png">45</a>]</span>In later periods of life I have deplored, as
+we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and
+have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
+<i>Obstinate questionings</i>, etc. To that dream-like vividness and splendor
+which invests objects of sight in childhood every one, I believe, if he
+could look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
+here; but having in the poem regarded it as a presumptive evidence of a
+prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
+conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
+meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
+recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
+immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
+advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
+fall of man presents an analogy in its favor. Accordingly, a
+pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
+and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
+ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
+the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
+felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his mind? Having to
+wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on the
+'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as
+having sufficient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for
+my purpose the best use of it I could as a poet."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Houghton says of this poem: "If I am asked what is the greatest
+poem in the English language, I never for a moment hesitate to say,
+Wordsworth's 'Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.'"</p>
+
+<p>Principal Shairp says: "'The Ode on Immortality' marks the highest limit
+which the tide of poetic inspiration has reached in England within this
+century, or indeed since the days of Milton."</p>
+
+<p>The idea of the pre-existence of the soul had already been treated by
+Henry Vaughan in "Silex Scintillans" (1655).</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Happy those infant days, when I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shined in my angel-infancy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Before I understood this place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Appointed for my second race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Or taught my soul to fancy aught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But a white, celestial thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When yet I had not walked above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A mile or two from my first Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And looking back at that short space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Could see a glimpse of his bright face."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Shelley, in "A Lament," hints at the same thought:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O world! O life! O time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">On whose last steps I climb,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[<a href="./images/46.png">46</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1i">Trembling at that where I had stood before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When will return the glory of your prime?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">No more&mdash;oh, never more!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Out of the day and night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A joy has taken flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">No more&mdash;oh, never more!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1">1.</a> <b>The child is father, etc.</b> These lines are from a short poem by
+Wordsworth, entitled "My Heart leaps up":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My heart leaps up when I behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">A rainbow in the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So was it when my life began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So is it now I am a man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So be it when I shall grow old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Or let me die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The child is father of the man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Bound each to each by natural piety."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Compare with Milton's lines in 'Paradise Regained,' Bk. IV:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"The childhood shows the man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As morning shows the day."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2">2.</a> <b>apparelled.</b> From Fr. <i>pareil</i>, Lat. <i>parilis</i>. Other English words as
+<i>pair</i>, <i>compare</i>, etc., are similarly derived. To <i>apparel</i> is strictly
+to pair, to suit, to put like to like.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3">3.</a> <b>tabor.</b> From Old Fr. <i>tabour</i>, Fr. <i>tambour</i>. Compare Eng.
+<i>tambourine</i>. Originally from the root <i>tap</i>, Gr. <i>tup</i>, to strike
+lightly. An ancient musical instrument,&mdash;a small one-ended drum having a
+handle projecting from the frame, by which it was held in the left hand,
+while it was beaten with a stick held in the right hand.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4">4.</a> <b>the cataracts.</b> The poet has probably in mind the "ghills" or falls of
+his own lake country. The metaphor which he uses is a bold one.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5">5.</a> <b>the echoes.</b> Compare with a similar line by Shelley:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Adonais</i>, 127.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6">6.</a> <b>the fields of sleep.</b> "The yet reposeful, slumbering country
+side."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i> "The fields that were dark during the hours of
+sleep."&mdash;<i>Knight.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7">7.</a> <b>jollity.</b> Merriment. From Lat. <i>jovialis</i>. See Milton's 'L'Allegro,'
+26:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Haste thee nymph and bring with thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Jest and youthful jollity."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[<a href="./images/47.png">47</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8">8.</a> <b>May.</b> May, with the poets, is the month of gayety. The older poetry
+especially is full of May raptures. Chaucer says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For May will have no sluggardy a-night:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The season pricketh every gentle heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And maketh him out of his sleep to start."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9">9.</a> <b>coronal.</b> A crown of flowers, a chaplet. As at the Roman banquets. On
+such occasions it was usual for the host to give chaplets to his guests.
+Festoons of flowers were also sometimes hung over their necks and
+breasts. The chaplet, or coronal, was regarded as a cheerful ornament
+and symbol of festivity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10">10.</a> <b>the babe leaps up.</b> That is for joy. See the poem, "My heart leaps
+up," on page <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11">11.</a> <b>there's a tree.</b> Compare this thought with that contained in the
+following lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Only, one little sight, one plant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. whene'er the leaf grows there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Its drop comes from my heart, that's all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Browning's May and Death.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12">12.</a> <b>pansy.</b> The flower of thought. From Fr. <i>pens&eacute;e</i>, thought; <i>penser</i>,
+to think. "It probably derived its name, thought or fancy, from its
+fanciful appearance."&mdash;<i>Nares.</i> Another derivation of the word is from
+<i>panacea</i>, meaning <i>all-heal</i>, a name given by the Greeks to a plant
+which was popularly supposed to cure diseases and dispel sorrow. The
+notion that the pansy is a cure for grief is shown in its common English
+name, <i>heart's-ease</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13">13.</a> <b>Our birth is but a sleep.</b> The idea of pre-existence was a favorite
+one of the ancient philosophers. The doctrine of metempsychosis, a form
+of the same idea, was held by the ancient Egyptians and is still
+maintained by the Buddhists. Tennyson says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As old mythologies relate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some draught of Lethe might await<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The slipping through from state to state.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And if I lapsed from nobler place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some legend of a fallen race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Alone might hint of my disgrace."&mdash;<i>Two Voices.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14">14.</a> <b>Behold the child.</b> Pope gives a similar picture:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A little louder, but as empty quite."&mdash;<i>Essay on Man.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>[<a href="./images/48.png">48</a>]</span>
+When Wordsworth wrote of</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A six years' darling of a pigmy size,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>he probably had in mind Hartley Coleridge, who was then a child of that
+age. See his poem "To Hartley Coleridge, Six Years Old."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15">15.</a> <b>humorous stage.</b> See Shakespeare's lines beginning "All the world's a
+stage," "As You like It," Act ii, sc. 7. The word <i>humorous</i> has here a
+special sense, such as is used by Ben Jonson in his "Every Man in his
+Humor."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16">16.</a> <b>best philosopher .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. mighty prophet! seer blest!</b> Stopford Brooke
+says: "These expressions taken separately have scarcely any recognizable
+meaning. By taking them all together, we feel rather than see that
+Wordsworth intended to say that the child, having lately come from a
+perfect existence, in which he saw truth directly, and was at home with
+God, retains, unknown to us, that vision;&mdash;and, because he does, is the
+best philosopher, since he sees at once that which we through philosophy
+are endeavoring to reach; is the mighty prophet, because in his actions
+and speech he tells unconsciously the truths he sees, but the sight of
+which we have lost; is more closely haunted by God, more near to the
+immortal life, more purely and brightly free because he half shares in
+the pre-existent life and glory out of which he has come."&mdash;<i>Theology in
+the English Poets.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17">17.</a> <b>Fallings from us, vanishings.</b> "Fits of utter dreaminess and
+abstraction, when nothing material seems solid, but everything mere mist
+and shadow."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18">18.</a> <b>Blank misgivings.</b> Compare Tennyson, "Two Voices":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Moreover, something is or seems,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That touches me with mystic gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Like glimpses of forgotten dreams;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Of something felt, like something here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of something done, I know not where;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Such as no language may declare."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19">19.</a> <b>The clouds that gather.</b> Compare these lines with the following from
+Wordsworth's "Excursion":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">"Ah! why in age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do we revert so fondly to the walks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her own native vigor, thence can hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reverberations and a choral song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commingling with the incense that ascends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undaunted toward the imperishable heavens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her own lonely altar?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44:A_5" id="Footnote_44:A_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44:A_5"><span class="label">[44:A]</span></a> The first stanza of We are Seven, said to have been
+written by Coleridge.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[<a href="./images/49.png">49</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We walked along, while bright and red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uprose the morning sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Matthew<a name="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" id="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" class="marker">1</a> stopped, he looked, and said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'The will of God be done!'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A village schoolmaster was he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hair of glittering gray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As blithe a man as you could see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a spring holiday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And on that morning, through the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the steaming rills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We travelled merrily, to pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A day among the hills.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, from thy breast what thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath so beautiful a sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sad a sigh has brought?'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A second time did Matthew stop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fixing still his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the eastern mountain-top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me he made reply:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brings fresh into my mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A day like this which I have left<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full thirty years behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[<a href="./images/50.png">50</a>]</span><span class="i0">And just above yon slope of corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such colors, and no other,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were in the sky, that April morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this the very brother.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With rod and line I sued the sport<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which that sweet season gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to the church-yard come, stopped short<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside my daughter's grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nine summers had she scarcely seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pride of all the vale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then she sang;&mdash;she would have been<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A very nightingale.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Six feet in earth my Emma lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet I loved her more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For so it seemed, than till that day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I e'er had loved before.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, turning from her grave, I met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the churchyard yew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A blooming girl, whose hair was wet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With points of morning dew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A basket on her head she bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her brow was smooth and white:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see a child so very fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was a pure delight!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No fountain from its rocky cave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'er tripped with foot so free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She seemed as happy as a wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dances on the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[<a href="./images/51.png">51</a>]</span><span class="i0">There came from me a sigh of pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which I could ill confine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I looked at her, and looked again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And did not wish her mine!'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Matthew is in his grave, yet now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methinks, I see him stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As at that moment, with a bough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wilding<a name="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" id="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" class="marker">2</a> in his hand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1799, and published the following year.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" id="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1">1.</a> <b>Matthew.</b> This old schoolmaster is described elsewhere by Wordsworth
+as being "made up of several, both of his class and men of other
+occupations."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" id="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2">2.</a> <b>wilding.</b> A twig from a wild apple tree.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found."&mdash;<i>Dryden.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE SOLITARY REAPER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold her, single in the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon solitary highland lass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reaping and singing by herself;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stop here, or gently pass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone she cuts and binds the grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sings a melancholy strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O listen! for the vale profound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is overflowing with the sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No nightingale did ever chaunt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More welcome notes to weary bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of travellers in some shady haunt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among Arabian sands:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[<a href="./images/52.png">52</a>]</span><span class="i0">A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breaking the silence of the seas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the farthest Hebrides.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Will no one tell me what she sings?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For old, unhappy, far-off things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And battles long ago:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it some more humble lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Familiar matter of to-day?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That has been, or may be again?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if her song could have no ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw her singing at her work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the sickle bending;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I listened, motionless and still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as I mounted up the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music in my heart I bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long after it was heard no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth</span> was born at Cockermouth, a town in Cumberland,
+England, April 7, 1770. He went to school at Hawkshead, Lancashire,
+whence in his seventeenth year he was sent to St. John's College,
+Cambridge. In January, 1791, he took his degree at the University, but
+without having distinguished himself in any way. The next fifteen or
+sixteen months were spent in France, just then in the first wild hopes
+of the Revolution. "In the aspirations and hopes of the revolutionists
+he was an ardent sharer; he thought that the world's great age was
+beginning anew; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[<a href="./images/53.png">53</a>]</span>and with all his soul he hailed so splendid an era. The
+ultimate degradation of that great movement by wild lawlessness, and
+then by most selfish ambition, alienated his sympathy for it." Towards
+the close of 1792 he returned to England, and passed the subsequent time
+among his friends in London and elsewhere till he settled with his
+sister at Racedown, Dorsetshire, in 1796. In the following year they
+removed to Alfoxden. It was during this period that he made the
+acquaintance of Coleridge. Wordsworth had already published (1793) two
+little volumes of poetry, entitled <i>Descriptive Sketches</i> and <i>The
+Evening Walk</i>; but they showed little promise of the triumphs which were
+to crown his later life. In 1798 the first volume of the <i>Lyrical
+Ballads</i> was published at Bristol, which purported to be the joint work
+of himself and Mr. Coleridge, but to which the latter contributed only
+"The Ancient Mariner" and two or three shorter poems. After some months
+spent in Germany, Wordsworth and his sister established themselves at
+Grasmere, in the lake country. In 1800 he published the second volume of
+the <i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, and in 1802 he married Mary Hutchinson. From 1799
+to 1814 he was mainly busy with his great philosophical poem, to be
+called "The Recluse," "containing views of Man, Nature, and Society," of
+which "The Prelude" was to be the introduction and "The Excursion" the
+Second and main Part. He designed that his minor pieces should be so
+arranged in connection with this work as to "give them claim to be
+likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses,
+ordinarily included in Gothic churches." This plan, however, was never
+carried out, as of the First and Third Parts only one book was written,
+and it has never been published. From 1814 until his death Wordsworth
+lived serenely and quietly at Rydal Mount, making occasional excursions
+into Scotland and Wales, and a tour upon the continent. In 1843, upon
+the death of Southey, he was appointed Poet-Laureate. His life was a
+long one, of steady work and much happiness. He died April 23, 1850.</p>
+
+<p>The distinguishing feature of Wordsworth's poetry is well set forth in
+his own words:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The moving accident is not my trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To freeze the blood I have no ready arts;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Hart-Leap Well, Part II.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>[<a href="./images/54.png">54</a>]</span>
+"Every great poet," he said, "is a teacher; I wish either to be
+considered as a teacher or as nothing."</p>
+
+<p>And he avowed that the purpose of his poetry was "to console the
+afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier; to
+teach the young and the gracious of every age <i>to see, to think and
+feel</i>, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous."</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">His daily teachings had been woods and rills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The silence that is in the starry sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The sleep that is among the lonely hills."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Wordsworth," says John Campbell Shairp, "was the first who, both in
+theory and practice, shook off the trammels of the so-called poetic
+diction which had tyrannized over English poetry for more than a
+century. This diction of course exactly represented the half-courtly,
+half-classical mode of thinking and feeling. As Wordsworth rebelled
+against this conventionality of spirit, so against the outward
+expression of it. The whole of the stock phrases and used-up metaphors
+he discarded, and returned to living language of natural feeling, as it
+is used by men, instead of the dead form of it which had got stereotyped
+in books. And just as in his subjects he had taken in from the waste
+much virgin soil, so in his diction he appropriated for poetic use a
+large amount of words, idioms, metaphors, till then by the poets
+disallowed. His shorter poems, both the earlier and the later, are, for
+the most part, very models of natural, powerful, and yet sensitive
+English; the language being, like a garment, woven out of, and
+transparent with, the thought."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> We are Seven; The Pet Lamb; To a Highland Girl;
+Laodamia; Matthew; The Fountain; The Wishing Gate; To the Small
+Celandine; "Three Years She Grew"; "She was a Phantom of Delight"; At
+the Grave of Burns.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Shairp's <i>Studies in Poetry and Philosophy</i>; Hazlitt's
+<i>English Poets</i>; De Quincey's <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>; <i>Literature and
+Life</i>, by E. P. Whipple; <i>Wordsworth</i> (English Men of Letters), by
+Goldwin Smith; <i>Yesterdays with Authors</i>, by James T. Fields; <i>Among My
+Books</i>, Second Series, by J. R. Lowell; Matthew Arnold's Introduction to
+the Poems of William Wordsworth.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[<a href="./images/55.png">55</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHRISTABEL.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tu&mdash;whit!&mdash;&mdash;Tu&mdash;whoo!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hark, again! the crowing cock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How drowsily it crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her kennel beneath the rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She maketh answer to the clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever and aye, by shine and shower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sixteen short howls, not over loud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is the night chilly and dark?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night is chilly, but not dark.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thin gray cloud is spread on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It covers but not hides the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon is behind, and at the full;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet she looks both small and dull.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night is chill, the cloud is gray:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[<a href="./images/56.png">56</a>]</span><span class="i0">'Tis a month before the month of May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Spring comes slowly up this way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lovely lady, Christabel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom her father loves so well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What makes her in the wood so late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A furlong from the castle gate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She had dreams all yesternight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her own betrothed knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreams that made her moan and leap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on her bed she lay in sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she in the midnight wood will pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the weal of her lover that's far away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She stole along, she nothing spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sighs she heaved were soft and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And naught was green upon the oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But moss and rarest mistletoe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in silence prayeth she.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lady sprang up suddenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lovely lady, Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It moaned as near as near can be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what it is she cannot tell.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the other side it seems to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The night is chill; the forest bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is not wind enough in the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To move away the ringlet curl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the lovely lady's cheek&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is not wind enough to twirl<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[<a href="./images/57.png">57</a>]</span><span class="i0">The one red leaf, the last of its clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dances as often as dance it can,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hanging so light, and hanging so high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hush, beating heart of Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jesu, Maria, shield her well!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She folded her arms beneath her cloak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stole to the other side of the oak.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What sees she there?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There she sees a damsel bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drest in a silken robe of white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shadowy in the moonlight shone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The neck that made that white robe wan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her stately neck and arms were bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her blue-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wildly glitter'd here and there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gems entangled in her hair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I guess, 'twas frightful there to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lady so richly clad as she&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautiful exceedingly!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mary, mother, save me now!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Said Christabel,) "And who art thou?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lady strange made answer meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her voice was faint and sweet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Have pity on my sore distress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I scarce can speak for weariness:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said Christabel, "How camest thou here?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did thus pursue her answer meet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My sire is of a noble line,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[<a href="./images/58.png">58</a>]</span><span class="i0">And my name is Geraldine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Five warriors seized me yestermorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me, even me, a maid forlorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They choked my cries with force and fright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tied me on a palfrey white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The palfrey was as fleet as wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they rode furiously behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They spurred amain, their steeds were white:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And once we cross'd the shade of night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have no thought what men they be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor do I know how long it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(For I have lain entranced I wis)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since one, the tallest of the five,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took me from the palfrey's back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A weary woman, scarce alive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He placed me underneath this oak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He swore they would return with haste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither they went I cannot tell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I thought I heard, some minutes past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounds as of a castle bell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch forth thy hand" (thus ended she),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And help a wretched maid to flee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And comforted fair Geraldine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O well, bright dame! may you command<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The service of Sir Leoline;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladly our stout chivalry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will he send forth and friends withal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guide and guard you safe and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Home to your noble father's hall."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[<a href="./images/59.png">59</a>]</span><span class="i0">She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That strove to be, and were not, fast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gracious stars the lady blest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus spake on sweet Christabel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All our household are at rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hall is silent as the cell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Leoline is weak in health,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And may not well awaken'd be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we will move as if in stealth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I beseech your courtesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This night, to share your couch with me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the moat, and Christabel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took the key that fitted well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little door she open'd straight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in the middle of the gate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gate that was iron'd within and without,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where an army in battle array had march'd out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady sank, belike through pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel with might and main<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifted her up, a weary weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the threshold of the gate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the lady rose again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moved, as she were not in pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So free from danger, free from fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the court: right glad they were.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel devoutly cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the lady by her side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Praise we the Virgin all divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I cannot speak for weariness."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>[<a href="./images/60.png">60</a>]</span><span class="i0">So free from danger, free from fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the court: right glad they were.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Outside her kennel the mastiff old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mastiff old did not awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet she an angry moan did make!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what can ail the mastiff bitch?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never till now she utter'd yell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the eye of Christabel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what can ail the mastiff bitch?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They pass'd the hall, that echoes still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pass as lightly as you will!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brands were flat, the brands were dying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid their own white ashes lying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when the lady pass'd, there came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tongue of light, a fit of flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel saw the lady's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nothing else saw she thereby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O softly tread," said Christabel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My father seldom sleepeth well."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet Christabel her feet both bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, jealous of the listening air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They steal their way from stair to stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now they pass the Baron's room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still as death, with stifled breath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now have reach'd her chamber door;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>[<a href="./images/61.png">61</a>]</span><span class="i0">And now doth Geraldine press down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rushes of the chamber floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The moon shines dim in the open air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not a moonbeam enters here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they without its light can see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chamber carved so curiously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carved with figures strange and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All made out of the carver's brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a lady's chamber meet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lamp with twofold silver chain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is fasten'd to an angel's feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The silver lamp burns dead and dim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Christabel the lamp will trim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left it swinging to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Geraldine, in wretched plight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sank down upon the floor below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O weary lady, Geraldine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pray you, drink this cordial wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a wine of virtuous powers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My mother made it of wild flowers."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And will your mother pity me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who am a maiden most forlorn?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christabel answered&mdash;"Woe is me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She died the hour that I was born.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have heard the gray-hair'd friar tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How on her death-bed she did say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That she should hear the castle-bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O mother dear! that thou wert here!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I would," said Geraldine, "she were!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[<a href="./images/62.png">62</a>]</span><span class="i0">But soon with altered voice, said she&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have power to bid thee flee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why stares she with unsettled eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can she the bodiless dead espy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And why with hollow voice cries she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though thou her guardian spirit be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And raised to heaven her eyes so blue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas!" said she, "this ghastly ride&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady wiped her moist cold brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again the wild-flower wine she drank:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the floor whereon she sank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lofty lady stood upright:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was most beautiful to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a lady of a far countr&eacute;e.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thus the lofty lady spake&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All they who live in the upper sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do love you, holy Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you love them, and for their sake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for the good which me befell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even I in my degree will try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair maiden, to requite you well.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now unrobe yourself; for I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[<a href="./images/63.png">63</a>]</span><span class="i0">Quoth Christabel, "So let it be!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the lady bade, did she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gentle limbs did she undress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay down in her loveliness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But through her brain of weal and woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So many thoughts move to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That vain it were her lids to close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So half-way from the bed she rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on her elbow did recline<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To look at the lady Geraldine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slowly roll'd her eyes around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then drawing in her breath aloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like one that shudder'd, she unbound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cincture from beneath her breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her silken robe and inner vest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropt to her feet, and full in view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold! her bosom and half her side&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sight to dream of, not to tell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O shield her! shield sweet Christabel.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! what a stricken look was hers!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep from within seems half-way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lift some weight with sick assay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyes the maid and seeks delay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then suddenly as one defied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Collects herself in scorn and pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay down by the maiden's side!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in her arms the maid she took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, well-a-day!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[<a href="./images/64.png">64</a>]</span><span class="i0">And with low voice and doleful look<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These words did say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">But vainly thou warrest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">For this is alone in<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy power to declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That in the dim forest<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thou heardest a low moaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And foundest a bright lady, surpassingly fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shield her and shelter her from the damp air."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES</h3>
+
+<p>The first part of the unfinished poem, "Christabel," was written in
+1797, the second part which, however, left the story apparently as
+incomplete as before, in 1808. The two parts were first published in
+1816. The poem is a picture of white innocence, purity, and truth,
+pursued and persecuted by the powers of evil. Its incompleteness seems
+to enhance its interest. "Completion could scarcely have failed to
+lessen its reality, for the reader could not have endured, neither could
+the poet's own theory have endured, the sacrifice of Christabel, the
+triumph of evil over good; and had she triumphed, there is a vulgar
+well-being in victory which has nothing to do with such a strain."</p>
+
+<p>"Such is the unfinished and unfinishable tale of Christabel&mdash;a poem
+which, despite its broken notes and over-brevity, has raised its author
+to the highest rank of poets, and which in itself is at once one of the
+sweetest, loftiest, most spiritual utterances that has ever been framed
+in English words. We know of no existing poem in any language to which
+we can compare it. It stands by itself exquisite, celestial,
+ethereal,&mdash;a song of the spheres,&mdash;yet full of such pathos and
+tenderness and sorrowful beauty as only humanity can
+give."&mdash;<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, 1871.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[<a href="./images/65.png">65</a>]</span>
+It is worthy of note that "Christabel" was the immediate inspiration of
+Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel." "It is to Mr. Coleridge," says Sir
+Walter, "that I am bound to make the acknowledgment due from the pupil
+to his master." "But certainly," says Hales, "Scott himself never
+succeeded in surrounding any one of his works with so fine an atmosphere
+of glamour and romance."</p>
+
+<p>The language and metrical arrangement of this poem are not only peculiar
+but are in full accord with the weird and fantastic conception of the
+piece as a whole. The versification is based upon a principle not
+commonly practised&mdash;that of counting the number of accentuated words in
+a line instead of the number of syllables. Though the latter varies from
+seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents never exceed four. The
+result is an irregular, but strangely beautiful harmony of a kind that
+can hardly be attained through the ordinary methods of versification.</p>
+
+<p>This poem is to be studied for its exquisite beauty, for the true poetic
+qualities which it possesses and which distinguish it from mere verse.
+Hence, no explanatory notes are given with reference to any particular
+passage, nor is it desirable that it should be analyzed with a view to
+grammatical or philological study. It should be read and reread until
+the student is thoroughly in accord with the poetic spirit which
+breathes in and vivifies the entire production. "It was indolence, no
+doubt, that left the tale half told&mdash;indolence and misery&mdash;and a poetic
+instinct higher than all the better impulses of industry and virtuous
+gain. The subject by its very nature was incomplete; it had to be left a
+lovely, weird suggestion&mdash;a vision for every eye that could see."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</span> was born at Ottery Saint Mary, October 21, 1772.
+He was educated at Christ's Hospital and at Jesus College, Cambridge. At
+the age of twenty-two he left the University without having taken a
+degree. He was an intimate friend of Charles Lamb and Southey, and with
+the latter formed a wild scheme for the founding of a "Pantisocratic
+State" in America, which, however, was soon abandoned. His first book of
+poetry was published in 1794. In 1796 he and Charles Lamb published a
+volume of poems together. He soon afterwards became acquainted with
+Wordsworth, and in 1798 the two brought out their famous volume of
+<i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, containing some of Wordsworth's best <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[<a href="./images/66.png">66</a>]</span>pieces and
+Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." "Christabel," after lying in manuscript
+for several years, was published in 1816, three editions being issued
+within twelve months. Coleridge's chief poems were published in 1817 in
+a collection entitled <i>Sibylline Leaves</i>, so called, he says, "in
+allusion to the fragmentary and wildly scattered state in which they had
+long been suffered to remain." At about the same time he was received
+into the house of Mr. Gillman, a surgeon residing at Highgate, in order
+to be cured if possible of his excessive use of opium. Here he produced
+his more important prose works, <i>Aids to Reflection</i>, and <i>On the
+Constitution of Church and State</i>; and here he died, July 25, 1834.</p>
+
+<p>Coleridge was forever planning and designing,&mdash;beginning a work and
+leaving its completion until to-morrow&mdash;which never came. He devoted his
+attention only sparingly to poetry&mdash;and that chiefly during his youth.
+Later in life he was occupied with political, social, and religious
+questions. "He was a living Hamlet, full of the most splendid thoughts
+and the noblest purposes, but a most incompetent doer." "His mind,"
+wrote Southey, "is a perpetual St. Vitus's dance&mdash;eternal activity
+without action."</p>
+
+<p>"Of Coleridge's best verses," says Swinburne, "I venture to affirm that
+the world has nothing like them, and can never have; that they are of
+the highest kind, and of their own. They are jewels of the diamond's
+price, flowers of the rose's rank, but unlike any rose or diamond
+known."</p>
+
+<p>"His best work is but little," says Stopford Brooke, "but of its kind it
+is perfect and unique.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. All that he did excellently might be bound up
+in twenty pages, but it should be bound in pure gold."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Hymn before
+Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni; Ode to France; Genevieve.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Swinburne's <i>Studies and Essays</i>; Shairp's <i>Studies in
+Poetry</i>; Carlyle's <i>Reminiscences</i>; Coleridge's <i>Biographia Literaria</i>;
+De Quincey's <i>Essays</i>; <i>Coleridge</i> (English Men of Letters), by H. D.
+Traill; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; Hunt's <i>Imagination and Fancy</i>;
+Chorley's <i>Authors of England</i>; Walter Pater's <i>Apprecia</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>[<a href="./images/67.png">67</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Percy Bysshe Shelley.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO A SKYLARK</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Bird thou never wert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That from heaven, or near it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In profuse<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_1" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_1"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_1" class="marker">1</a> strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Higher still, and higher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From the earth thou springest<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The deep blue thou wingest,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_2" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_2"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">In the golden lightning<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of the sunken sun,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_3" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_3"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O'er which clouds are brightening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou dost float and run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">The pale purple even<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the broad daylight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>[<a href="./images/68.png">68</a>]</span><span class="i4">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">All the earth and air<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As, when night is bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From one lonely cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon rains<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_4" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_4"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_4" class="marker">4</a> out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">What thou art we know not;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What is most like thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a poet hidden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the light of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Till the world is wrought<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_5" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_5"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In a palace tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Soul in secret hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a glow-worm golden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In a dell of dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Its a&euml;rial hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[<a href="./images/69.png">69</a>]</span><span class="i4">Like a rose embowered<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In its own green leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">By warm winds deflowered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Till the scent it gives<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rain-awakened flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">All that ever was<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Teach us, sprite<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_6" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_6"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_6" class="marker">6</a> or bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">I have never heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Praise of love or wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Chorus hymeneal,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_7" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_7"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or triumphal chaunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Matched with thine would be all<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But an empty vaunt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">What objects are the fountains<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Langour cannot be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Never came near thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[<a href="./images/70.png">70</a>]</span><span class="i4">Waking or asleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou of death must deem<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Things more true and deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Than we mortals dream&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">We look before and after,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And pine for what is not:<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_8" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_8"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With some pain is fraught:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">If we were things born<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Better than all measures<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of delight and sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Better than all treasures<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That in books are found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That thy brain must know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Such harmonious madness<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From my lips would flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This is perhaps the most perfect lyric of its kind in the English
+language. Every verse is worthy of careful study, and it should be read
+and reread until its exquisite melody is felt and the subtle thoughts
+which it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[<a href="./images/71.png">71</a>]</span>embodies fully understood. Yet there is little in the poem
+which requires annotation&mdash;the lark's song itself admits of no
+explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"For sweetness the 'Ode to a Skylark' is inferior only to Coleridge, in
+rapturous passion to no man. It is like the bird it
+sings,&mdash;enthusiastic, enchanting, profuse, continuous, and
+alone,&mdash;small, but filling the heavens."&mdash;<i>Leigh Hunt.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Has any one, since Shakespeare and Spenser, lighted on such tender and
+such grand ecstasies?"&mdash;<i>Taine.</i></p>
+
+<p>The skylark is very generally distributed over the northern portions of
+the Old World, but is not found in America. Its song in the morning may
+often be heard when the bird is so high as to be entirely out of sight,
+and although not finely modulated is remarkably cheerful and prolonged.
+A person who is accustomed to the song can tell by its variations
+whether it be ascending, stationary, or descending.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_1" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_1"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_1">1.</a> <b>profuse.</b> Accent here on the first syllable. From Lat. <i>profundo</i>, to
+pour forth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_2" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_2"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_2">2.</a> Explain the figures of rhetoric employed in this line. The meaning of
+<b>blue</b>; of <b>wingest</b>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_3" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_3"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_3">3.</a> <b>sunken sun.</b> The sun is not yet above the horizon, but the bird has
+risen so high that it is visible to him, and he "floats and runs" in its
+golden light.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_4" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_4"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_4">4.</a> What is the meaning of <b>rains</b>? of <b>rain</b> in the next stanza?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_5" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_5"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_5">5.</a> <b>wrought.</b> Influenced. A.-S. <i>worhte</i>, <i>wyrcan</i>, to work.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_6" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_6"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_6">6.</a> <b>sprite.</b> Spirit. In the first stanza he calls the lark a spirit and
+says it never was a bird; here he calls it "bird or sprite."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_7" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_7"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_7">7.</a> <b>Chorus hymeneal.</b> See note on "Prothalamion," page <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_8" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_8"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_8">8.</a> Compare this thought with the ideas contained in Wordsworth's "Ode on
+the Intimations of Immortality."</p>
+
+<p><b>pine.</b> From A.-S. <i>pinan</i>, to pain. Our word <i>pain</i> is derived from the
+same root.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>HYMN OF PAN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">From the forests and highlands<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We come, we come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the river-girt islands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where loud waves are dumb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listening to my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>[<a href="./images/72.png">72</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">The wind in the reeds and the rushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The bees on the bells of thyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The birds on the myrtle-bushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The cicale above in the lime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the lizards below in the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were as silent as ever old Tmolus<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1" class="marker">1</a> was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Listening to my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Liquid Peneus<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2" class="marker">2</a> was flowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all dark Tempe lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The light of the dying day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Speeded by my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Sileni<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3" class="marker">3</a> and Sylvans and Fauns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the edge of the moist river-lawns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the brink of the dewy caves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all that did then attend and follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were silent with love,&mdash;as you now, Apollo,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With envy of my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">I sang of the dancing stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I sang of the d&aelig;dal<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5" class="marker">5</a> earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And of heaven, and the Giant wars,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And love, and death, and birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And then I changed my pipings,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Singing how down the vale of M&aelig;nalus<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I pursued a maiden,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7" class="marker">7</a> and clasped a reed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All wept&mdash;as I think both ye now would,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If envy or age had not frozen your blood&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>[<a href="./images/73.png">73</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Pan, as described in the Homeric hymns, is "lord of all the hills and
+dales": sometimes he ranges along the tops of the mountains; sometimes
+pursues the game in the valleys, roams through the woods, or floats
+along the streams; or drives his sheep into a cave, and there plays on
+his reeds music not to be excelled by that of the sweetest singing
+birds; and</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"With him the clear-singing mountain-nymphs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Move quick their feet, by the dark-watered spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the soft mead, where crocus, hyacinths,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fragrant and blooming, mingle with the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Confused, and sing, while echo peals around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain's top."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Keats, in "Endymion," thus apostrophizes Pan:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">While ever and anon to his shorn peers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Anger our huntsmen: Breather round our farms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And wither drearily on barren moors:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Dread opener of the mysterious doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Leading to universal knowledge&mdash;see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Great son of Dryope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The many that are come to pay their vows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With leaves about their brows!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1">1.</a> <b>Tmolus.</b> It was Tmolus who acted as umpire in the musical contest
+between Pan and Apollo. This contest is directly referred to throughout
+this poem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2">2.</a> <b>Peneus.</b> The chief river of Thessaly. It flows through the Vale of
+Tempe, and between the mountains Ossa and Pelion, emptying finally into
+the &AElig;gean Sea. (See map of ancient Greece.)</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3">3.</a> <b>Sileni.</b> A name applied to the older satyrs. They were fond of wine
+and of every kind of sensual pleasure, and hence represented the
+luxuriant powers of nature, and were connected with the worship of
+Bacchus.</p>
+
+<p><b>Sylvans.</b> Deities of the fields and forests.</p>
+
+<p><b>Fauns.</b> Gods of the shepherds, flocks, and fields. A faun was usually
+represented as half man and half goat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[<a href="./images/74.png">74</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4">4.</a> <b>Apollo.</b> One of the chief divinities of the Greeks; the god of music
+and song, of prophecy, of the flocks and herds, of the founding of
+towns, and of the sun. He was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born on
+the island of Delos. His favorite oracle was at Delphi.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5">5.</a> <b>d&aelig;dal.</b> Labyrinthine, wonderful. From D&aelig;dalus, a famous Athenian
+architect, who designed the labyrinth at Crete in which the Minotaur was
+kept.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6">6.</a> <b>Giant wars.</b> The wars of the Titans,&mdash;the contest in which Zeus
+overcame and deposed his father, Chronos, and made himself supreme ruler
+of the universe. The Titans, who were opposed to him, were overcome, and
+hurled into the lowest depths of Tartarus.</p>
+
+<p><b>M&aelig;nalus.</b> A mountain in Arcadia, celebrated as the favorite haunt of Pan.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7">7.</a> <b>maiden.</b> Syrinx, a nymph of Arcadia, devoted to the service of
+Artemis. "As she was returning one day from the chase, Pan saw and loved
+her; but when he would address her, she fled. The god pursued. She
+reached the river Ladon, and, unable to cross it, implored the aid of
+her sister nymphs; and when Pan thought to grasp the object of his
+pursuit, he found his arms filled with reeds. At that moment the wind
+began to agitate the reeds and produced a low musical sound. The god
+took the hint, cut seven of the twigs, and formed from them his
+<i>syrinx</i>, or pastoral pipe." See Ovid's <i>Metamorphoses</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM "EPIPSYCHIDION."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i11">Emily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A ship is floating in the harbor now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is a path on the sea's azure floor,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No keel has ever ploughed that path before;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The halcyons<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_1" id="marker_Epipsychidion_1"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_1" class="marker">1</a> brood around the foamless isles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The treacherous ocean has forsworn its wiles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merry mariners are bold and free:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our bark is as an albatross whose nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is a far Eden of the purple east;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[<a href="./images/75.png">75</a>]</span><span class="i0">And we between her wings will sit, while Night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Day and Storm and Calm pursue their flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ministers, along the boundless sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treading each other's heels, unheededly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is an isle under Ionian<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_2" id="marker_Epipsychidion_2"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_2" class="marker">2</a> skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautiful as a wreck of paradise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, for<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_3" id="marker_Epipsychidion_3"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_3" class="marker">3</a> the harbors are not safe and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This land would have remained a solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for some pastoral people native there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who from the elysian, clear, and golden air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_4" id="marker_Epipsychidion_4"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_4" class="marker">4</a>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Simple and spirited, innocent and bold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blue &AElig;gean girds this chosen home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ever-changing sound and light and foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kissing the sifted sands and caverns hoar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the winds wandering along the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undulate with the undulating tide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As clear as elemental diamond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or serene morning air. And far beyond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Illumining, with sound that never fails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Accompany the noonday nightingales.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the place is peopled with sweet airs.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_5" id="marker_Epipsychidion_5"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light clear element which the isle wears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the moss violets and jonquils peep,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>[<a href="./images/76.png">76</a>]</span><span class="i0">And dart their arrowy odor through the brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till you might faint with that delicious pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every motion, odor, beam, and tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that deep music is in unison:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is a soul within the soul,&mdash;they seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like echoes of an antenatal dream.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_6" id="marker_Epipsychidion_6"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is an isle 'twixt heaven, air, earth, and sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer,<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_7" id="marker_Epipsychidion_7"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Washed by the soft blue oceans of young air.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_8" id="marker_Epipsychidion_8"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a favored place. Famine or blight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pestilence, war, and earthquake, never light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sail onward far upon their fatal way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wing&egrave;d storms, chaunting their thunder-psalm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From which its fields and woods ever renew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their green and golden immortality.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the sea there rise, and from the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Veil after veil, each hiding some delight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which sun or moon or zephyr draw aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glowing at once with love and loveliness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blushes and trembles at its own excess.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An atom of the Eternal, whose own smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filling their bare and void interstices.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[<a href="./images/77.png">77</a>]</span><span class="i0">This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee to be lady of the solitude.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I have fitted up some chambers there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking towards the golden eastern air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And level with the living winds which flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like waves above the living waves below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have sent books and music there, and all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those instruments with which high spirits call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The future from its cradle, and the past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of its grave, and make the present last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thoughts and joys which sleep but cannot die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Folded within their own eternity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our simple life wants little, and true taste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scene it would adorn; and therefore still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature with all her children haunts the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ringdove in the embowering ivy yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keeps up her love-lament; and the owls flit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round the evening tower; and the young stars glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before our gate; and the slow silent night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be this our home in life; and, when years heap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their withered hours like leaves on our decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us become the overhanging day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The living soul, of this elysian isle&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We two will rise and sit and walk together<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the roof of blue Ionian weather;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wander in the meadows; or ascend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lightest winds to touch their paramour;<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_9" id="marker_Epipsychidion_9"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[<a href="./images/78.png">78</a>]</span><span class="i0">Or linger where the pebble-paven shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the quick faint kisses of the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Possessing and possessed by all that is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within that calm circumference of bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by each other, till to love and live<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be one.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We shall become the same, we shall be one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spirit within two frames, oh wherefore two?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One passion in twin hearts, which grows and grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, like two meteors of expanding flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those spheres instinct with it become the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burning, yet ever inconsumable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In one another's substance finding food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light flames too pure and light and unimbued<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which point to heaven and cannot pass away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One hope within two wills, one will beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One heaven, one hell, one immortality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one annihilation!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8h">Woe is me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wing&egrave;d words on which my soul would pierce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the height of Love's rare universe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are chains of lead around its flight of fire&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"A clever but disreputable professor at Pisa one day related to Shelley
+the sad story of a beautiful and noble lady, the Contessina Emilia
+Viviani, who had been confined by her father in a dismal convent of the
+suburbs, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>[<a href="./images/79.png">79</a>]</span>to await her marriage with a distasteful husband." Shelley,
+fired as ever by a tale of tyranny, was eager to visit the fair captive.
+The professor accompanied him and Medwin to the convent parlor, where
+they found her more lovely than even the most glowing descriptions had
+led them to expect. Nor was she only beautiful. Shelley soon discovered
+that she had "cultivated her mind beyond what I have ever met with in
+Italian women"; and a rhapsody composed by her upon the subject of
+Uranian Love&mdash;"Il Vero Amore"&mdash;justifies the belief that she possessed
+an intellect of more than ordinary elevation. He took Mrs. Shelley to
+see her; and both did all they could to make her convent prison less
+irksome by frequent visits, by letters, by presents of flowers and
+books. It was not long before Shelley's sympathy for this unfortunate
+lady took the form of love, which, however spiritual and Platonic, was
+not the less passionate. The result was the composition of
+"Epipsychidion," the most unintelligible of all his poems to those who
+have not assimilated the spirit of Plato's <i>Symposium</i> and Dante's <i>Vita
+Nuova</i>.&mdash;<i>J. A. Symonds.</i></p>
+
+<p>W. M. Rossetti characterizes this poem as "a pure outpouring of poetry;
+a brimming and bubbling fountain of freshness and music, magical with
+its own spray rainbows."</p>
+
+<p>A year after its composition, Shelley wrote: "The 'Epipsychidion' I
+cannot look at. If you are curious, however, to hear what I am and have
+been, it will tell you something thereof. It is an idealized history of
+my life and feelings."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Epipsychidion.</b> From Gr. <i>epi</i>, upon, and <i>psyche</i>, the soul. This poem
+is addressed "to the noble and unfortunate Lady Emilia Viviani, now
+imprisoned in the Convent of St. Anne, Pisa," and was written in 1821.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_1" id="Note_Epipsychidion_1"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_1">1.</a> <b>halcyons.</b> Kingfishers. Halcyone was the daughter of &AElig;olus and wife of
+Ceyx. When her husband died she was changed into a bird,&mdash;the
+kingfisher,&mdash;and, floating over the sea, she still calls for the lost
+Ceyx in tones full of plaining and tears. And "whensoever she makes her
+nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
+weather&mdash;days distinguishable among all others for their serenity."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_2" id="Note_Epipsychidion_2"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_2">2.</a> <b>Ionian.</b> Greek. See the expression "Under the roof of blue Ionian
+weather," below. Explain its meaning.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_3" id="Note_Epipsychidion_3"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_3">3.</a> <b>for.</b> Since, because.</p>
+
+<p><b>elysian.</b> Heavenly. Pertaining to Elysium, the islands of the blest, the
+Elysian fields.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_4" id="Note_Epipsychidion_4"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_4">4.</a> <b>age of gold.</b> Compare Milton, "Hymn on the Nativity" (see note 36,
+page <a href="#Page_192">192</a>. See, also, poem by John Lydgate, page <a href="#Page_275">275</a>).</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_5" id="Note_Epipsychidion_5"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_5">5.</a> <b>peopled with sweet airs.</b> Filled with sweet music.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>[<a href="./images/80.png">80</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Epipsychidion_6" id="Note_Epipsychidion_6"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_6">6.</a> <b>antenatal dream.</b> See Wordsworth's "<a href="#Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality">Ode on the Intimations of
+Immortality</a>" (also, note 13, page <a href="#Page_47">47</a>).</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_7" id="Note_Epipsychidion_7"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_7">7.</a> <b>Lucifer.</b> Venus when seen in the morning, rising before the sun is
+called Lucifer, the light-bearer. From Lat. <i>lux</i>, light, and <i>fero</i>, to
+bear (see note 18, page <a href="#Page_189">189</a>). The same star when seen in the evening,
+following the sun, is called Hesperus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_8" id="Note_Epipsychidion_8"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_8">8.</a> <b>blue oceans of young air.</b> Explain.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_9" id="Note_Epipsychidion_9"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_9">9.</a> <b>paramour.</b> See Milton's "Ode on the Nativity," stanza i.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was no reason then for her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Milton makes the sun the paramour of the earth; Shelley, the earth the
+paramour of the sky.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A LAMENT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than summer's flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than youth's delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than happy night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Art thou come and gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the earth when leaves are dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the night when sleep is sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the heart when joy is fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I am left alone, alone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The swallow Summer comes again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The owlet Night resumes her reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the wild swan Youth is fain<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To fly with thee, false as thou.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart each day desires the morrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vainly would my winter borrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sunny leaves from any bough.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lilies for a bridal bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roses for a matron's head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Violets for a maiden dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pansies let my flowers be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the living grave I bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scatter them without a tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let no friend, however dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Waste one hope, one fear, for me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>[<a href="./images/81.png">81</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</span> was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex,
+August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eton and at Oxford. While a student
+at the latter place, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled <i>The Necessity of
+Atheism</i>, which caused his expulsion from college. This occurred in
+1811, and in the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, from whom,
+three years later, he separated. In 1816 he married Mary Godwin. In 1818
+he left England for Italy, where he remained until his death by drowning
+in the gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. His first considerable poem, "Queen
+Mab," was published in 1813; "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," in
+1816; "The Revolt of Islam," in 1818; and "Epipsychidion" and "Adonais"
+in 1821. His two dramas, the "Cenci" and "Prometheus Unbound," were
+issued, the former in 1819, the latter in 1821.</p>
+
+<p>"Shelley's early rupture with the English world," says Hales, "lost him
+all the advantages which a fuller experience of it and a longer
+intercourse with it might have given. That world was no less estranged
+from him than he from it. It misunderstood and misinterpreted him
+throughout his career. It covered him with its opprobrium. Assuredly, he
+was not the man that world painted. It by no means follows that because
+Shelley did not repeat the ordinary creeds, and even mocked at them,
+that he believed nothing. Shelley was never in his soul an atheist: it
+was simply impossible with his nature that he should be; what he did
+deny and defy was a deity whose worship seemed, as he saw the world,
+consistent with the reign of selfishness and bigotry."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Macaulay says: "We doubt whether any modern poet has possessed in
+an equal degree some of the highest qualities of the great ancient
+masters. The words <i>bard</i> and <i>inspiration</i>, which seem so cold and
+affected when applied to other modern writers, have a perfect propriety
+when applied to him. He was not an author, but a bard. His poetry seems
+not to have been an art, but an inspiration. Had he lived to the full
+age of man, he might not improbably, have given to the world some great
+work of the very highest rank in design and execution."</p>
+
+<p>Leigh Hunt says: "Assuredly, had he lived, he would have been the
+greatest dramatic writer since the days of Elizabeth. In general, if
+Coleridge is the sweetest of our poets, Shelley is at once the most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>[<a href="./images/82.png">82</a>]</span>ethereal and most gorgeous&mdash;the one who has clothed his thoughts in
+draperies of the most evanescent and most magnificent words and imagery.
+His poetry is as full of mountains, seas, and skies, of light, and
+darkness, and the seasons, and all the elements of our being, as if
+Nature herself had written it, with the Creation and its hopes newly
+cast around her, not, it must be confessed, without too indiscriminate a
+mixture of great and small, and a want of sufficient shade&mdash;a certain
+chaotic brilliancy, 'dark with excess of light.'"</p>
+
+<p>Another English poet says: "Shelley outsang all poets on record but some
+two or three throughout all time; his depths and heights of inner and
+outer music are as divine as nature's, and not sooner exhaustible. He
+was alone the perfect singing-god; his thoughts, words, deeds, all sang
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"The poet who creates a new ideal, and fills men's hearts with the flame
+of a divine desire, is a practical force in the stream of human
+development&mdash;and this Shelley has done. So much of his poetry is full of
+the tender melancholy of the moonlight he loved, that the world is still
+half blind to his highest bardic character, as the poet of a spiritual
+dawn, the eager spirit who flies forward&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Calling the laps&egrave;d soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And weeping in the morning dew."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Even his moonlight seems to reflect the beams of some unrisen sun; and
+his sunlight has all the ethereal exhilaration of that of the first
+hours of a glorious day."&mdash;<i>John Todhunter.</i></p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Adonais; The Sensitive Plant; The Cloud; Mount
+Blanc; To Wordsworth; The Euganean Hills; Liberty; Alastor; Prometheus
+Unbound.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> De Quincey's <i>Essays</i>; Jeaffreson's <i>The Real Shelley</i>;
+<i>Shelley</i> (English Men of Letters), by J. A. Symonds; Leigh Hunt's
+<i>Imagination and Fancy</i>; Rossetti's <i>Memoir of Shelley</i>; Dowden's <i>Life
+of P. B. Shelley</i>; Moore's <i>Life of Lord Byron</i>; Middleton's <i>Shelley
+and his Writings</i>; Medwin's <i>Life of Shelley</i>; Trelawney's
+<i>Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron</i>; Todhunter's
+<i>Shelley: A Study</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>[<a href="./images/83.png">83</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Keats.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE.</h2>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One minute past, and Lethe-wards<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" class="marker">1</a> had sunk:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But being too happy in thy happiness,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That thou, light-winged Dryad<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" class="marker">2</a> of the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In some melodious plot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Singest of summer in full-throated ease.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O for a draught of vintage, that hath been<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tasting of Flora and the country-green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dance, and Proven&ccedil;al song,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" class="marker">3</a> and sun-burnt mirth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O for a beaker full of the warm South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And purple-stained mouth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with thee fade away into the forest dim:<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>[<a href="./images/84.png">84</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What thou among the leaves hast never known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weariness, the fever, and the fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And leaden-eyed despairs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Away! away! for I will fly to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But on the viewless wings of Poesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already with thee! tender is the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Clustered around by all her starry Fays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">But here there is no light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherewith the seasonable month endows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>[<a href="./images/85.png">85</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And mid-May's eldest child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Darkling<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" class="marker">7</a> I listen; and for many a time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I have been half in love with easeful Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take into the air my quiet breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now more than ever seems it rich to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To cease upon the midnight with no pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In such an ecstasy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To thy high requiem<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" class="marker">8</a> become a sod.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No hungry generations tread thee down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice I hear this passing night was heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In ancient days by emperor and clown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the self-same song that found a path<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She stood in tears amid the alien corn<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" class="marker">9</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">The same that oft-times hath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forlorn! the very word is like a bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To toll me back from thee to my sole self!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>[<a href="./images/86.png">86</a>]</span><span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Past the near meadows, over the still stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In the next valley-glades:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was it a vision, or a waking dream?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fled is that music:&mdash;do I wake or sleep?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This poem," says Leigh Hunt, "was written in a house at the foot of
+Highgate Hill, on the border of the fields looking towards Hampstead.
+The poet had then his mortal illness upon him, and knew it; never was
+the voice of death sweeter."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1">1.</a> <b>Lethe-wards.</b> That is, towards Lethe. Lethe was one of the rivers of
+Hell. Its name means "forgetfulness." Milton describes it thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"A slow and silent stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forthwith his former state and being forgets&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, ii, 583.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2">2.</a> <b>Dryad.</b> A wood-nymph. From Gr. <i>drus</i>, an oak tree. The life of the
+Dryad was supposed to be bound up with that of her tree.</p>
+
+<p>"The quickening power of the soul, like Martha, is 'busy about many
+things,' or, like a Dryad, living in a tree."&mdash;<i>Sir John Davis.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3">3.</a> <b>Proven&ccedil;al song.</b> Song of the troubadours, a school of lyric poets that
+flourished in Provence, in the south of France, from the eleventh to the
+thirteenth century. A love song.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4">4.</a> <b>Hippocrene.</b> The "Fountain of the Horse" (<i>Fons Caballinus</i>). A
+fountain on Mount Helicon, B&oelig;otia, sacred to the Muses. It was said
+to have been produced by the horse Pegasus striking the ground with his
+feet. Its waters were supposed to be a source of poetical inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Longfellow, in "The Goblet of Life," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No purple flowers&mdash;no garlands green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Like gleams of sunshine, flash between<br /></span>
+<span class="i2i">Thick leaves of mistletoe."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>[<a href="./images/87.png">87</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5">5.</a> <b>Bacchus and his pards.</b> Bacchus was frequently represented as riding
+on the back of a leopard, a tiger, or a lion, or in a chariot drawn by
+panthers.</p>
+
+<p><b>pards.</b> Spotted beasts.</p>
+
+<p>See Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," third stanza, page <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6">6.</a> Compare with Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act ii, sc.
+i:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7">7.</a> <b>darkling.</b> In the dark. The word is very rarely used.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8">8.</a> <b>requiem.</b> A dirge, or funeral song. "So called from the first word in
+the Catholic mass for the dead, <i>Requiem &aelig;ternum dona iis Domine</i> (Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord)."&mdash;<i>Brand.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>become a sod.</b> Compare with Ecclesiastes, xii, 7: "Then shall the dust
+return to the earth as it was."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9">9.</a> <b>alien corn.</b> See Ruth, ii. Why <i>alien</i> corn? Longfellow, in his poem
+on "Flowers," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Everywhere about us they are glowing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on her silver cross soft amethyst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on her hair a glory, like a saint:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save wings, for heaven:&mdash;Porphyro grew faint:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>[<a href="./images/88.png">88</a>]</span><span class="i1">Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blissfully havened both from joy and pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And listened to her breathing, if it chanced<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wake into a slumberous tenderness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!&mdash;how fast she slept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>[<a href="./images/89.png">89</a>]</span><span class="i1">The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While he from forth the closet brought a heap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With jellies soother than the creamy curd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Manna and dates, in argosy transferred<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">These delicates he heaped with glowing hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On golden dishes and in baskets bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the retired quiet of the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Filling the chilly room with perfume light.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art mine heaven, and I thine eremite:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the dusk curtains:&mdash;'twas a midnight charm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Impossible to melt as iced stream:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It seemed he never, never could redeem<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>[<a href="./images/90.png">90</a>]</span><span class="i1">Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tumultuous,&mdash;and, in chords that tenderest be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy":<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Close to her ear touching the melody;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He ceased&mdash;she panted quick&mdash;and suddenly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There was a painful change, that nigh expelled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At which fair Madeline began to weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And moan forth witless words with many a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Beyond a mortal man impassioned far<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At these voluptuous accents, he arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>[<a href="./images/91.png">91</a>]</span><span class="i1">Into her dream he melted, as the rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blendeth its odor with the violet,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After so many hours of toil and quest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A famished pilgrim,&mdash;saved by miracle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Hark!'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Arise&mdash;arise! the morning is at hand;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bloated wassailers will never heed:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let us away, my love, with happy speed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>[<a href="./images/92.png">92</a>]</span><span class="i1">Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She hurried at his words, beset with fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For there were sleeping dragons all around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At glaring watch, perhaps with ready spears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all the house was heard no human sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a huge empty flagon by his side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And they are gone: ay, ages long ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These lovers fled away into the storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of witch and demon and large coffin-worm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were long be-nightmared. Angela, the old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Died palsy-twitch'd with meagre face deform;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>[<a href="./images/93.png">93</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"The Eve of St. Agnes" is one of the finest of Keats's shorter poems.
+Leigh Hunt describes it as "the most complete specimen of his genius;
+exquisitely loving; young, but full-grown poetry of the rarest
+description; graceful as the beardless Apollo; glowing and gorgeous with
+the colors of romance." The stanzas here quoted, while comprising the
+main portion of the story, are not quite half of the entire poem.</p>
+
+<p>Madeline, the beautiful daughter of a rude and rich old baron, is
+secretly betrothed to Porphyro, a young man whom her father has sworn to
+slay. On the eve of St. Agnes a great feast is in progress in the
+baron's castle. Porphyro, at the risk of his life, "comes across the
+moors, with heart on fire for Madeline." With the aid of the old nurse,
+Angela, he gains admission into the castle and is concealed in a closet,
+where he conceives the plan for their elopement. In the meanwhile,
+Madeline, having danced with her father's guests, retires to her room,
+her mind full of the thought of Porphyro, and intent upon testing the
+truth of the belief, then current, that on this evening, maidens might,
+if they performed certain ceremonies and forms, be vouchsafed a sight of
+their future husbands.</p>
+
+<p>St. Agnes was a young virgin of Palermo, who is said to have suffered
+martyrdom at the age of thirteen, in the Diocletian persecution, about
+<span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 304. Her feast was celebrated on the 21st of January.</p>
+
+<p>With reference to the versification of this poem, see what is said of
+the Spenserian stanza, page <a href="#Page_232">232</a>. There are many imitations of Spenser in
+these verses.</p>
+
+<p>The student is desired to discover for himself the peculiarities of
+thought, of feeling, of expression, which give interest and beauty to
+this production. The following are a few of the words and expressions
+whose meaning he should study: "Gules"; "taint"; "vespers"; "poppied";
+"Swart Paynims"; "Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness"; "Morphean
+amulet"; "affray"; "azure-lidded sleep"; "argosy"; "missal"; "tinct";
+"Fez"; "Samarcand"; "Lebanon"; "eremite"; "witless"; "alarum"; "entoiled
+in woofed phantasies"; "La belle dame sans mercy"; "heart-shaped and
+vermeil dyed"; "Of haggard seeming"; "arras."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Keats</span> was born October 29, 1795, in Moorfields, London. He was sent
+to school at Enfield, where he gained the rudiments of a classical
+education; but, his father having died when John was a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>[<a href="./images/94.png">94</a>]</span>mere child, he
+was apprenticed at an early age to a surgeon in Edmonton. When seventeen
+years old a copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene" fell into his hands, and
+the perusal of that great poem was the beginning, for him, of a new
+life. He felt the poetic instinct within him, and resolved that he too
+would be a poet. In 1817 he published a small volume of poems, which
+attracted but little attention; and in 1818 his more ambitious effort,
+"Endymion," was presented to the world. The latter poem was unkindly
+received by the great reviews. The author was advised to "go back to his
+gallipots," and told that "a starved apothecary was better than a
+starved poet." A story was long current that these severe criticisms
+induced Keats's early death, but this is entirely improbable. He
+continued writing, although consumption, a hereditary disease in his
+family, had already begun its work upon him. He published "The Eve of
+St. Agnes" in 1820, and had made some progress with a noble poem,
+entitled "Hyperion," which Lord Byron declared to be "actually inspired
+by the Titans, and as sublime as &AElig;schylus." In September of that year he
+sailed for Italy, but the hope of prolonging life by a change of climate
+proved to be vain. On the 27th of February, 1821, he died at Rome.</p>
+
+<p>"We can hardly be wrong in believing," says Masson, "that had Keats
+lived to the ordinary age of man, he would have been one of the greatest
+of all our poets. As it is, I believe we shall all be disposed to place
+him very near indeed to our very best."</p>
+
+<p>"That which was deepest in his mind," says Stopford Brooke, "was the
+love of loveliness for its own sake, the sense of its rightful and
+pre-eminent power; and, in the singleness of worship which he gave to
+Beauty, Keats is especially the artist, and the true father of the
+latest modern school of poetry."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Endymion; Ode on a Grecian Urn; Lamia; Hyperion;
+To Autumn; Hymn to Apollo; Isabella.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References</span>: <i>Keats</i> (English Men of Letters), by Sidney Colvin; <i>Keats</i>,
+by W. M. Rossetti; Matthew Arnold's Essay on Keats, in Ward's <i>English
+Poets</i>; Shairp's <i>Studies in Poetry</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>[<a href="./images/95.png">95</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Eighteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>The influence of the poetry of the past lasted; new elements were
+added to poetry, and new forms of it took shape. The study of the Greek
+and Latin classics revived, and with it a more artistic poetry. Not only
+correct form, for which Pope sought, but beautiful form was sought
+after. Men like Thomas Gray and William Collins strove to pour into
+their work that simplicity of beauty which the Greek poets and Italians
+like Petrarca had reached as the last result of genius restrained by
+art.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Two things had been learned. First, that artistic rules were
+necessary, and, secondly, that natural feeling was necessary in order
+that poetry should have a style fitted to express nobly the emotions and
+thoughts of man. The way was therefore now made ready for a style in
+which the Art should itself be Nature, and it sprang at once into being
+in the work of the poets of this time. The style of Gray is polished to
+the finest point, and yet it is instinct with natural feeling. Goldsmith
+is natural even to simplicity, and yet his verse is even more accurate
+than Pope's. Cowper's style, in such poems as the 'Lines to my Mother's
+Picture,' arises out of the simplest pathos, and yet it is as pure in
+expression as Greek poetry.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Stopford Brooke.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>At last there started up an unfortunate Scotch peasant (Burns),
+rebelling against the world, and in love, with the yearnings, lusts,
+greatness, and irrationality of modern genius. Now and then behind his
+plough, he lighted on genuine verses, verses such as Heine and Alfred de
+Musset have written in our own days. In those few words, combined after
+a new fashion, there was a revolution.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[<a href="./images/96.png">96</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Eighteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Alexander Pope</b> (1688-1744). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Parnell</b> (1679-1718). "The Hermit"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edward Young</b> (1684-1765), "Night Thoughts"; "The Last Day";
+"Resignation."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Allan Ramsay</b> (1686-1758). "The Gentle Shepherd": "Scots Songs"; "Fables
+and Tales."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Gay</b> (1688-1732). "The Beggar's Opera"; "The Shepherd's Week";
+"Trivia"; "Rural Sports"; fables, and other short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Matthew Green</b> (1696-1737). "The Grotto"; "The Spleen."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Dyer</b> (1698-1758). "Grongar Hill"; "The Fleece."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Blair</b> (1699-1746). "The Grave."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>James Thomson</b> (1700-1748). "The Seasons"; "The Castle of Indolence."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Johnson</b> (1709-1784), "The Vanity of Human Wishes"; "London."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Glover</b> (1712-1785). "Leonidas"; "Admiral Hosier's Ghost"; "The
+Athenaid."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Shenstone</b> (1714-1763). "The Schoolmistress"; "Pastoral Ballads."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Gray</b> (1716-1771). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Collins</b> (1721-1759). Odes and other short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Mark Akenside</b> (1721-1770). "The Pleasures of the Imagination."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Oliver Goldsmith</b> (1728-1774). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Warton</b> (1728-1790). "The Pleasures of Melancholy"; "The Triumph
+of Isis"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Cowper</b> (1731-1800). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Churchill</b> (1731-1764). "The Prophecy of Famine"; "The Rosciad."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>James Beattie</b> (1735-1803). "The Minstrel."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Fergusson</b> (1750-1774). Short Scottish poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Chatterton</b> (1752-1770). "Poems of Thomas Rowlie"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Crabbe</b> (1754-1832). "Tales of the Hall"; "The Village"; "The
+Parish Register"; "Tales in Verse."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Blake</b> (1757-1827). "Songs of Innocence"; "Songs of Experience";
+"Poetical Sketches."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Burns</b> (1759-1796). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>[<a href="./images/97.png">97</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Robert Burns.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE COTTER'S<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" class="marker" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 60%;">1</a> SATURDAY NIGHT.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Inscribed To R. Aiken, Esq.</span><a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" class="marker" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 70%;">2</a></h3>
+
+<div class="poemind2">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The short but simple annals of the Poor.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" class="marker">3</a>&mdash;<i>Gray.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My loved, my honored, much respected friend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No mercenary bard his homage pays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lowly train<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" class="marker">5</a> in life's sequestered scene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Aiken in a cottage would have been;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there I ween.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The short'ning winter-day is near a close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This night his weekly moil is at an end,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>[<a href="./images/98.png">98</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length his lonely cot appears in view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' expectant wee things toddlin', stacher thro'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wine's smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lisping infant prattling on his knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Belyve, the elder bairns<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" class="marker">9</a> come drapping in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At service out, amang the farmers roun';<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some ca'<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" class="marker">10</a> the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cannie errand to a neibor<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" class="marker">11</a> town:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or deposit<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" class="marker">12</a> her sair-won penny-fee,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anticipation forward points the view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother wi' her needle an' her shears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>[<a href="./images/99.png">99</a>]</span><span class="i0">Their master's and their mistress's command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The younkers a' are warned to obey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And, oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Implore His counsel and assisting might:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do some errands, and convoy her hame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wily mother sees the conscious flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wi' heart-struck anxious care inquires his name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O happy love! where love like this is found!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>[<a href="./images/100.png">100</a>]</span><span class="i0">I've paced much this weary, mortal round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sage experience bids me this declare:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cordial in this melancholy vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now the supper crowns their simple board,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sowpe their only hawkie<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" class="marker">17</a> does afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dame brings forth in complimental mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The big ha'-Bible,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" class="marker">19</a> ance his father's pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>[<a href="./images/101.png">101</a>]</span><span class="i0">His bonnet<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" class="marker">20</a> rev'rently is laid aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wales a portion with judicious care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They chant their artless notes in simple guise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or noble "Elgin" beets<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" class="marker">21</a> the heavenward flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Compared with these, Italian trills are tame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The priest-like father reads the sacred page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How Abram was the friend of God on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Amalek's ungracious progeny;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or how the royal bard did groaning lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How His first followers and servants sped;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>[<a href="./images/102.png">102</a>]</span><span class="i0">How he, who lone in Patmos banished,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The saint, the father, and the husband prays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thus they all shall meet in future days:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There ever bask in uncreated rays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Together hymning their Creator's praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In such society, yet still more dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all the pomp of method and of art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When men display to congregations wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devotion's every grace, except the heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" class="marker">23</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, haply, in some cottage far apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then homeward all take off their several way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youngling cottagers retire to rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parent-pair their secret homage pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For them and for their little ones provide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>[<a href="./images/103.png">103</a>]</span><span class="i0">From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"An honest man's the noblest work of God:"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cottage leaves the palace far behind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is a lordling's pomp?&mdash;a cumbrous load,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A virtuous populace may rise the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That streamed thro' Wallace's<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" class="marker">25</a> undaunted heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or nobly die, the second glorious part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem, composed in 1785, is written partly in the Scottish dialect,
+partly in English. The livelier passages are in the poet's vernacular;
+the loftier or more solemn parts in the language of books. This
+distinction <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>[<a href="./images/104.png">104</a>]</span>was doubtless made because Burns disliked to treat his
+higher themes in a merely colloquial manner, fearing to belittle them by
+so doing. The household described was probably that of the poet's own
+father; it was at least a typical Scotch peasant's household, with which
+no one was more familiar. Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Dr. Currie,
+says: "Although the 'Cotter' in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of
+my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet
+the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of
+us ever went 'At service out amang the neibors roun'.' Instead of our
+depositing our 'sair-won penny-fee' with our parents, my father labored
+hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to
+keep his children at home."</p>
+
+<p>The influence of Gray and Goldsmith is very apparent in more than one
+passage in this poem.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert had frequently remarked to me," said his brother, "that there
+was something particularly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God,' used by a decent, sober head of a family introducing family
+worship. To this sentiment of the author, the world is indebted for 'The
+Cotter's Saturday Night.' The hint of the plan and title of the poem is
+taken from Ferguson's 'Farmer's Ingle.'"</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1">1.</a> <b>Cotter.</b> "One who inhabits a cot, or cottage, dependent on a
+farm."&mdash;<i>Jamieson.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2">2.</a> <b>R. Aiken.</b> A friend with whom Burns had been brought into contact
+during the Old and New Light Controversy.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3">3.</a> See Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," eighth stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4">4.</a> <b>lays.</b> Songs; probably from the same root as the German <i>lied</i>. The
+word was originally applied to a form of elegiac French poetry, much
+imitated by the English.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5">5.</a> <b>train.</b> A favorite word with the poets at this time. Goldsmith uses it
+no fewer than six times in the "Deserted Village." The original meaning
+is something drawn along; from Lat. <i>traho</i>, to draw.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6">6.</a> <b>sugh.</b> Also spelled <i>sough</i>. Whistling sound, murmur. Derived from the
+same root as sigh, for which word it is used by Burns in his lines, "On
+the Battle of Sherriffmuir":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My heart for fear gae sough for sough<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To hear the thuds," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7">7.</a> Compare with Gray's "Elegy," line 3:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The ploughman homeward plods his weary way."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8">8.</a> Toil was perhaps pronounced <i>tile</i>, thus properly rhyming with
+<i>beguile</i>. Johnson, in "London," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On all thy hours security shall smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And bless thine evening walk and morning toil."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>[<a href="./images/105.png">105</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9">9.</a> <b>bairns.</b> From A.-S. <i>bearns</i>, children.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10">10.</a> <b>ca'.</b> Drive, follow. Probably not from the same root as our common
+word <i>call</i>. Kingsley uses it in this sense in the line:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Go, Mary, go, and call the cattle home."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11">11.</a> <b>neibor.</b> Neighboring. Milton, in "Comus," uses the expressions: "Some
+neighbor woodman," "some neighbor villager"; and Shakespeare says: "A
+neighbor thicket" ("Love's Labour Lost"), and "neighbor room"
+("Hamlet").</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12">12.</a> <b>deposit.</b> Pronounced here <i>dep&acute;o-zit</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13">13.</a> <b>penny-fee.</b> Fee, wages, from A.-S. <i>feoh</i>, cattle. "Cattle," says
+Bosworth, "was the first kind of property; and, by bartering, this word
+came to signify money in general." So, too, the word <i>penny</i> is from
+A.-S. <i>penig</i>, Icelandic <i>peningr</i>, cattle. The word <i>penny</i>, as in this
+country the word <i>dollar</i>, is used indefinitely for <i>money</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14">14.</a> Observe that in quoting the words of the Cotter the poet partially
+drops the Ayrshire dialect and uses a purer English.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15">15.</a> <b>ben.</b> Within. The inner part of the house; from O. E. <i>binnan</i>,
+within. Its opposite is <i>but</i>, the outside of the house.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16">16.</a> <b>kye.</b> Cattle, from O.-E. <i>cu</i>, or <i>kie</i>. <i>Kine</i> is derived from the
+same root, and probably <i>cow</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17">17.</a> <b>hawkie.</b> This word, says Hales, "denotes, properly, a cow with a
+white face. So, in Northumberland, <i>bawsand</i> was used of an animal with
+a white spot on its forehead, and <i>crummie</i> of a cow with crooked
+horns."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18">18.</a> <b>sin' lint was i' the bell.</b> Since flax was in bloom. That is, the
+cheese was a year old last flax-blossoming time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19">19.</a> <b>ha'-Bible.</b> The hall Bible&mdash;the Bible kept in the best room.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20">20.</a> <b>bonnet.</b> This word in Scotch denotes a man's head-covering. In early
+English it was used in the same sense.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21">21.</a> <b>beets.</b> Feeds,&mdash;that is, gives fuel to the flame.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It warms me, it charms me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To mention but her name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">It heats me, it beets me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">And sets me a' on flame."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Burns's Epistle to Davie, a brother poet.</i></p>
+
+<p>The word is probably from A.-S. <i>betan</i>, to better, to mend; from which,
+also, we have the words <i>beat</i>, to excel, <i>better</i>, <i>best</i>, etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22">22.</a> Burns refers the reader to Pope's "Windsor Forest" for this
+quotation. He probably had in mind the line in the "Essay on Man":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hope springs eternal in the human breast."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>[<a href="./images/106.png">106</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23">23.</a> <b>sacerdotal stole.</b> A long, narrow scarf with fringed ends, and
+richly embroidered, worn by the clergy upon special occasions.
+<b>Sacerdotal</b>, from Lat. <i>sacerdos</i>, a priest. <b>Stole</b>, from Lat. <i>stola</i>, a
+long dress worn by Roman women over their tunic and fastened with a
+girdle.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24">24.</a> Pope's "Essay on Man," Epistle iv, line 247.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25">25.</a> William Wallace (1270-1305), the Scotch national hero was, like
+Burns, a native of Ayrshire.</p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for The Cotters Saturday Night" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">VOCABULARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>aft</b>, often.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ingle</b>, fire.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>amaist</b>, almost.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>jauk</b>, trifle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>amang</b>, among.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kebbuck</b>, cheese.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ance</b>, once.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kens</b>, understands.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>auld</b>, old.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lathefu'</b>, shy.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>belyve</b>, by and by.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lave</b>, the rest.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blate</b>, bashful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lyart</b>, gray.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blinkin</b>, gleaming.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>miry</b>, muddy, dusty.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blythe</b>, happy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>moil</b>, labor.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>braw</b>, brave, fine.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>nae</b>, no.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cannie</b>, easy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>parritch</b>, porridge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>carking</b>, fretting.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pleugh</b>, plough.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>certes</b>, certain.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rin</b>, run.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>chows</b>, chews.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sair-won</b>, hard-earned.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>claes</b>, clothes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sowpe</b>, milk.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>convoy</b>, accompany.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spiers</b>, inquires.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cracks</b>, talks.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stacher</b>, stagger.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>craws</b>, crows.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>strappin'</b>, strapping, stout.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>drapping</b>, dropping.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tentie</b>, attentively.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>eydent</b>, diligent.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>towmond</b>, twelvemonth.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fell</b>, tasty.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>uncos</b>, unknown things, new.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flichterin</b>, fluttering.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wales</b>, chooses.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>frae</b>, from.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wee bit</b>, little.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gang</b>, go.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weel</b>, well.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gars</b>, makes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wee things</b>, little folks.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>guid</b>, good.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weel-hained</b>, well-kept.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hae</b>, have.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wiles</b>, knowledge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>haffets</b>, temples.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wily</b>, knowing.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hafflins</b>, half.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>youngling</b>, youthful.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halesome</b>, wholesome.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>younkers</b>, youngsters, children.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hallan</b>, partition wall.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>'yont</b>, on the other side of.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>hameward</b>, homeward.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>[<a href="./images/107.png">107</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">On turning one down with the Plough, in April, 1786.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wee, modest, crimson-tipp&eacute;d flow'r,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou's met me in an evil hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I maun crush amang the stoure<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy slender stem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To spare thee now is past my power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thou bonnie gem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bonnie lark, companion meet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wi' spreckled breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When upward springing, blythe to greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The purpling east.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cauld blew the bitter-biting north<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon thy early humble birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Amid the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce reared above the parent earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy tender form.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High sheltering woods an' wa's maun shield;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou, beneath the random bield<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O' clod or stane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adorns the histie stibble-field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Unseen, alane.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>[<a href="./images/108.png">108</a>]</span><span class="i0">There, in thy scanty mantle clad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lifts thy unassuming head<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In humble guise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the share uptears thy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And low thou lies!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the fate of artless maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By love's simplicity betrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And guileless trust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Low i' the dust.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the fate of simple bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On life's rough ocean luckless starred!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unskilful he to note the card<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of prudent lore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And whelm him o'er!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such fate to suffering worth is given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who long with wants and woes has striven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By human pride or cunning driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To misery's brink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He, ruined, sink!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fate is thine&mdash;no distant date;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Full on thy bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shall be thy doom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>[<a href="./images/109.png">109</a>]</span></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for To A Mountain Daisy" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">VOCABULARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bield</b>, protection.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maun</b>, must.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blythe</b>, happy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spreckled</b>, speckled.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bonnie</b>, pretty.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stibble</b>, stubble.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>card</b>, compass.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stoure</b>, dust.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>glinted</b>, passed quickly.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weet</b>, wetness.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>histie</b>, barren.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wrenched</b>, deprived.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there, for honest poverty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That hangs his head, and a' that?<a name="marker_For_A_That_1" id="marker_For_A_That_1"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coward slave, we pass him by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We dare be poor for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our toils obscure, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rank is but the guinea's stamp,<a name="marker_For_A_That_2" id="marker_For_A_That_2"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The man's the gowd<a name="marker_For_A_That_3" id="marker_For_A_That_3"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_3" class="marker">3</a> for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What though on hamely fare we dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A man's a man for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Their tinsel show, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The honest man, though e'er sae poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is king o' men for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye see yon birkie,<a name="marker_For_A_That_4" id="marker_For_A_That_4"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_4" class="marker">4</a> ca'd a lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though hundreds worship at his word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He's but a coof<a name="marker_For_A_That_5" id="marker_For_A_That_5"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_5" class="marker">5</a> for a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>[<a href="./images/110.png">110</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">His riband, star, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The man of independent mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He looks and laughs at a' that.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A prince can mak a belted knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A marquis, duke, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But an honest man's aboon<a name="marker_For_A_That_6" id="marker_For_A_That_6"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_6" class="marker">6</a> his might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guid faith, he maunna fa'<a name="marker_For_A_That_7" id="marker_For_A_That_7"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_7" class="marker">7</a> that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Their dignities, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Are higher ranks than a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then let us pray that come it may&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As come it will for a' that&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May bear the gree,<a name="marker_For_A_That_8" id="marker_For_A_That_8"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_8" class="marker">8</a> and a' that.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">It's coming yet, for a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That man to man, the warld o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shall brothers be for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_1" id="Note_For_A_That_1"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_1">1.</a> Is there anything in honest poverty to cause one to hang his head,
+etc.?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_2" id="Note_For_A_That_2"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_2">2.</a> Explain lines 7 and 8 fully.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_3" id="Note_For_A_That_3"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_3">3.</a> <b>gowd</b>, gold.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_4" id="Note_For_A_That_4"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_4">4.</a> <b>birkie</b>, fellow.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_5" id="Note_For_A_That_5"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_5">5.</a> <b>coof</b>, fool.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_6" id="Note_For_A_That_6"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_6">6.</a> <b>aboon his might</b>, above his power.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_7" id="Note_For_A_That_7"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_7">7.</a> <b>maunna fa'</b>, may not get.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_8" id="Note_For_A_That_8"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_8">8.</a> <b>gree</b>, palm, supremacy.</p>
+
+<p>"Burns was not only the poet of love, but also of the new excitement
+about man. Himself poor, he sang the poor. Neither poverty nor low birth
+made a man the worse&mdash;the man was 'a man for a' that.'"&mdash;<i>Stopford
+Brooke.</i></p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[<a href="./images/111.png">111</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span> was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His childhood and
+youth were spent in poverty on his father's farm, where he learned to
+plough, reap, mow, and thresh in the barn, but where opportunities for
+education were such only as Scottish peasants know. In 1784 his father
+died, and he attempted to manage a farm of his own at Mossgiel. The
+experiment proving to be a failure, he resolved to leave Scotland, and
+secured an appointment to a clerkship in Jamaica. Just before the time
+set for his departure, he learned of the success of a volume of his
+poems which had just been published at Kilmarnock; and, instead of
+departing for the West Indies, he made a visit to Edinburgh. He was
+welcomed by the best society, and received at once into the literary
+circles of the Scottish capital. "His name and fame flashed like
+sunshine over the land: the shepherd on the hill, the maiden at her
+wheel, learned his songs by heart, and the first scholars of Scotland
+courted his acquaintance." A second edition of his poems was published
+in 1787, and with the proceeds&mdash;about $2500&mdash;he took a farm at
+Ellisland, in Nithsdale. But his habits were such that he made sad
+failure a second time in the experiment of farming; and, after two years
+of mismanagement, to eke out his scanty income he accepted an
+appointment as exciseman. In 1791, "unfortunately both for his health
+and for his reputation," he removed to Dumfries, where, five years
+later, he died.</p>
+
+<p>"While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through
+the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous
+pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa Fountain will also
+arrest our eye; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning
+workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full gushing
+current, into the light of day; and often will the traveller turn aside
+to drink of its clear waters, and muse among its rocks and
+pines."&mdash;<i>Carlyle.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Burns is not the poet's poet, which Shelley no doubt meant to be, or
+the philosopher's poet, which Wordsworth, in spite of himself, is. He is
+the poet of homely human nature, not half so homely or prosaic as it
+seems. His genius, in a manner all its own, associates itself with the
+fortunes, experiences, memorable moments, of human <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>[<a href="./images/112.png">112</a>]</span>beings whose
+humanity is their sole patrimony; to whom 'liberty and whatever, like
+liberty, has the power</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To raise a man above the brute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mak him ken himsel,'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and
+never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned
+by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the
+great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human
+beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy
+relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy
+out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength
+of which it cannot but grow strong."&mdash;<i>John Service.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive
+power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of
+personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as
+healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,&mdash;no
+more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor,
+are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it."&mdash;<i>Hazlitt.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His is that language of the heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">In which the answering heart would speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Or the smile light the cheek.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0i">"And his that music to whose tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The common pulse of man keeps time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">In cot or castle's mirth or moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">In cold or sunny clime."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Fitz-Greene Halleck.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To
+a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland
+Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References</span>: Carlyle's Essay on <i>Robert Burns</i>; <i>Burns</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>[<a href="./images/113.png">113</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Cowper.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>BOADICEA.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the British warrior queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bleeding from the Roman rods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought, with an indignant mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Counsel from her country's gods,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sage beneath the spreading oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat the Druid, hoary chief;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every burning word he spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of rage, and full of grief.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Princess! if our aged eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis because resentment ties<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the terrors of our tongues.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Rome shall perish&mdash;write that word<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the blood that she has spilt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep in ruin as in guilt.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Rome, for empire far renown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tramples on a thousand states;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hark, the Gaul is at her gates!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>[<a href="./images/114.png">114</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Other Romans shall arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heedless of a soldier's name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounds, not arms,<a name="marker_Boadicea_1" id="marker_Boadicea_1"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_1" class="marker">1</a> shall win the prize;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Harmony the path to fame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then the progeny that springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the forests of our land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,<a name="marker_Boadicea_2" id="marker_Boadicea_2"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall a wider world command.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Regions C&aelig;sar never knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy posterity shall sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where his eagles never flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">None invincible as they."<a name="marker_Boadicea_3" id="marker_Boadicea_3"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such the bard's prophetic words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pregnant with celestial fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending as he swept the chords<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of his sweet but awful lyre.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She, with all the monarch's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Felt them in her bosom glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rush'd to battle, fought and died;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dying, hurled them<a name="marker_Boadicea_4" id="marker_Boadicea_4"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_4" class="marker">4</a> at the foe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ruffians, pitiless as proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaven awards the vengeance due;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empire is on us bestowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shame and ruin wait for you.<a name="marker_Boadicea_5" id="marker_Boadicea_5"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, a powerful and warlike tribe of
+Britons, about the middle of the first century. Upon the death of her
+husband, Prasutagus, her kingdom was seized by the Romans, and she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>[<a href="./images/115.png">115</a>]</span>herself, for some real or imaginary offence, was publicly scourged.
+During the absence of the Roman governor from that part of England,
+Boadicea raised an immense army, burned the city of London, and put
+70,000 Romans to the sword. She afterwards, with 230,000 troops, met the
+Roman army, under Suetonius, in the field, and although the Romans could
+muster only 10,000 soldiers, the British army was defeated, and the
+queen, in despair, ended her own life by taking poison.</p>
+
+<p>In this poem, Cowper represents the queen as, soon after her shameful
+treatment by the Romans, seeking counsel from one of the native priests.
+The Druid prophesies the destruction of Rome and the future greatness of
+Britain.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Boadicea_1" id="Note_Boadicea_1"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_1">1.</a> <b>Sounds, not arms.</b> Does the poet allude to the cultivation of oratory
+and poetry among the Romans and the neglect of military affairs?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_2" id="Note_Boadicea_2"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_2">2.</a> <b>Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings.</b> What do these expressions mean?
+To what do they refer?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_3" id="Note_Boadicea_3"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_3">3.</a> Explain the prophecy included in this stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_4" id="Note_Boadicea_4"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_4">4.</a> <b>hurled them.</b> Hurled what?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_5" id="Note_Boadicea_5"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_5">5.</a> This stanza, evidently a part of the imprecation which Boadicea
+"hurled" at her enemies, ought to be enclosed with quotation marks, but
+in most versions of the poem it appears without them.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With me but roughly since I heard thee last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those lips are thine&mdash;thy own sweet smile I see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The same that oft in childhood solaced me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The meek intelligence of those dear eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Blessed be the art that can immortalize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To quench it) here shines on me still the same.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>[<a href="./images/116.png">116</a>]</span><span class="i1">Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O welcome guest, though unexpected here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who bidst me honor with an artless song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affectionate, a mother lost so long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will obey, not willingly alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But gladly, as the precept were her own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while that face renews my filial grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall steep<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_1" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_1"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_1" class="marker">1</a> me in Elysian reverie,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_2" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_2"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A momentary dream that thou art she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My mother! when I learnt<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_3" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_3"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_3" class="marker">3</a> that thou wast dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! that maternal smile! It answers&mdash;Yes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, turning from my nursery window, drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But was it such?&mdash;It was.&mdash;Where thou art gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parting word shall pass my lips no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_4" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_4"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What ardently I wished I long believed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, disappointed still, was still deceived.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By expectation every day beguiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dupe of <i>to-morrow</i> even from a child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>[<a href="./images/117.png">117</a>]</span><span class="i0">I learned at last submission to my lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the gardener Robin, day by day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drew me to school along the public way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis now become a history little known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That once we called the pastoral house our own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short-lived possession! but the record fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still outlives many a storm that has effaced<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand other themes less deeply traced.<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_5" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_5"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The biscuit, or confectionary plum;<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_6" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_6"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this, and more endearing still than all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That humor interposed too often makes;<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_7" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_7"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this still legible in memory's page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still to be so to my latest age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such honors to thee as my numbers may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The violet, the pink, and jessamine,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>[<a href="./images/118.png">118</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">I pricked them into paper with a pin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(And thou wast happier than myself the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could those few pleasant days again appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would not trust my heart&mdash;the dear delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But no&mdash;what here we call our life is such<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So little to be loved, and thou so much,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I should ill requite thee to constrain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou, as a gallant bark<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_8" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_8"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_8" class="marker">8</a> from Albion's coast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There sits quiescent on the floods that show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beauteous form reflected clear below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While airs impregnated with incense play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar."<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_9" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_9"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of life long since has anchored by thy side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Always from port withheld, always distressed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And day by day some current's thwarting force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My boast is not, that I deduce my birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[<a href="./images/119.png">119</a>]</span><span class="i0">But higher far my proud pretensions rise&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The son of parents passed into the skies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, farewell&mdash;Time unrevoked has run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To have renewed the joys that once were mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without the sin of violating thine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I can view this mimic show of thee,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_10" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_10"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time has but half succeeded in his theft&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This, one of the most exquisite poems in the language, was written by
+Cowper in "the last glimmering of the evening light," before his mind
+was wholly overwhelmed by the final attack of insanity. "Every line is
+instinct with a profound and chastened feeling, to which it would be
+difficult to find a parallel. There is not a phrase, not a word, which
+jars upon the most susceptible ear, not a tinge of exaggeration, not a
+touch that is excessive. The fact that he who gave forth these supreme
+utterances of filial love was old himself when he did it, brings into
+the relationship a strange, tender equality which is marvellously
+touching."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_1" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_1"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_1">1.</a> <b>steep.</b> Imbue. From Ger. <i>stippen</i>. From the same root as <i>dip</i>, with
+the letter <i>s</i> prefixed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_2" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_2"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_2">2.</a> <b>Elysian reverie.</b> Heavenly meditation. See note on Elysium, page <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_3" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_3"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_3">3.</a> <b>when I learnt.</b> Cowper was only six years old when his mother died.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_4" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_4"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_4">4.</a> <b>concern.</b> Distress, anxiety.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_5" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_5"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_5">5.</a> Nearly fifty years after his mother's death, Cowper wrote: "I can
+truly say that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal veracity
+say a day) in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her
+tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she had for showing it
+was so short."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>[<a href="./images/120.png">120</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_6" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_6"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_6">6.</a> <b>plum.</b> Perhaps the gravest fault in this poem is the frequent
+intermixture, as in these two lines, of trivial thoughts and
+circumstances with those of a more noble character.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_7" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_7"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_7">7.</a> Explain the metaphor which the poet attempts to carry through these
+three lines. <b>Brakes</b> = <i>breaks</i>, interruptions. What is the meaning of
+<i>humor</i>?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_8" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_8"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_8">8.</a> <b>as a gallant bark.</b> Observe the beauty of the simile in these twelve
+lines, also of the simile which follows.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_9" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_9"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_9">9.</a> Probably misquoted from "The Dispensary," by Samuel Garth
+(1670-1719):</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To die is landing on some silent shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where billows never break nor tempests roar."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_10" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_10"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_10">10.</a> <b>this mimic show.</b> Explain the meaning of this expression.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EPITAPH ON A HARE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor swifter greyhound follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who, nursed with tender care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to domestic bounds confined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was still a wild Jack hare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though duly from my hand he took<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His pittance every night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He did it with a jealous look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, when he could, would bite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His diet was of wheaten bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And milk, and oats, and straw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thistles, or lettuces instead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With sand to scour his maw.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[<a href="./images/121.png">121</a>]</span><span class="i0">On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On pippins' russet peel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, when his juicy salads failed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sliced carrot pleased him well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Turkey carpet was his lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whereon he loved to bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To skip and gambol like a fawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And swing his rump around.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His frisking was at evening hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For then he lost his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most before approaching showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or when a storm drew near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eight years and five round-rolling moons<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He thus saw steal away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dozing out all his idle noons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And every night at play.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I kept him for his humor's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he would oft beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart of thoughts that made it ache,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And force me to a smile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now beneath this walnut shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He finds his long last home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waits, in snug concealment laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till gentler Puss shall come.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He, still more ag&egrave;d, feels the shocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From which no care can save,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, partner once of Tiney's box,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must soon partake his grave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>[<a href="./images/122.png">122</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Cowper</span> was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His
+father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the
+family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school
+and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the
+profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at
+Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a
+solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle,
+Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords.
+The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy
+love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for
+more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity,
+which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his
+fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume
+was published in 1782, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces,
+the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement," and "Table Talk." His
+second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium,"
+and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through
+the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of
+Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his
+death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as
+an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast.</p>
+
+<p>Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the
+mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial
+poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that
+he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a
+depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted
+him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of
+the Royal George.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Southey's <i>Life of William Cowper</i>; <i>Cowper</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; Macaulay's Essay
+on <i>Moore's Life of Byron</i>; <i>Life of Cowper</i>, in the "Globe Edition" of
+his works.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>[<a href="./images/123.png">123</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Oliver Goldsmith.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mingling notes came soften'd from below:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The playful children just let loose from school,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the sounds of population fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all the bloomy flush of life is fled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, wretched matron&mdash;forc'd in age, for bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>[<a href="./images/124.png">124</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">She only left of all the harmless train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sad historian of the pensive plain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village preacher's<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" class="marker">1</a> modest mansion rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And passing<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" class="marker">2</a> rich with forty pounds<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" class="marker">3</a> a year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remote from towns he ran his godly race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His house was known to all the vagrant train;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The long-remembered beggar was his guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broken soldier,<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" class="marker">4</a> kindly bade to stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quite forgot their vices in their woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless their merits or their faults to scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His pity gave ere charity began.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in his duty prompt at every call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[<a href="./images/125.png">125</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as a bird each fond endearment tries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the bed where parting life was laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reverend champion stood. At his control<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his last faltering accents whispered praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At church, with meek and unaffected grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His looks adorned the venerable place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The service past, around the pious man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even children followed with endearing wile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternal sunshine settles on its head.<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There in his noisy mansion,<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" class="marker">6</a> skilled to rule,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village master taught his little school.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man severe he was, and stern to view;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew him well, and every truant knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>[<a href="./images/126.png">126</a>]</span><span class="i0">Well had the boding<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" class="marker">7</a> tremblers learned to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day's disasters in his morning face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well the busy whisper circling round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The love he bore to learning was in fault;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" class="marker">8</a> all declared how much he knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lands he could measure, terms and tides<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" class="marker">9</a> presage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While words of learned length and thundering sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That one small head could carry all he knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But past is all his fame. The very spot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1">1.</a> <b>The village preacher.</b>&mdash;"This picture of the village pastor," says
+Irving, "which was taken in part from the character of his father,
+embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the
+natures of the father and son seem to have been identical.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. To us the
+whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as if,
+conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble himself
+at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to practise."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2">2.</a> <b>passing rich.</b> Exceedingly rich. The word is a common one among the
+poets. "Is she not passing fair?" (Shakespeare, "Two Gentlemen of
+Verona," Act iv, sc. 4); "How passing sweet is solitude" (Cowper,
+"Retirement").</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>[<a href="./images/127.png">127</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3">3.</a> <b>forty pounds.</b> In his dedication of "The Traveller," Goldsmith refers
+to his brother Henry as "a man who, despising fame and fortune, has
+retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of forty pounds
+a year."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4">4.</a> <b>broken soldier.</b> See "The Soldier's Dream," Campbell.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5">5.</a> The simile included in these four lines, says Lord Lytton, is
+translated almost literally from a poem by the Abb&eacute; de Chaulieu, who
+died in 1720. "Every one must own," adds he, "that, in copying,
+Goldsmith wonderfully improved the original."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6">6.</a> <b>The village master.</b>&mdash;The portrait here drawn of the village
+schoolmaster is from Goldsmith's own teacher, Thomas Byrne, with whom he
+was placed when six years old. "Byrne had been educated for a
+pedagogue," says Irving, "but had enlisted in the army, served abroad
+during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen to the rank of
+quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no
+longer exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled the
+urchin populace of Lissoy.</p>
+
+<p>"There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given
+in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond
+wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a
+world of campaigning stories of which he was generally the hero, and
+which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to
+have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a
+powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an
+unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious.
+He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland,
+all which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition
+Goldsmith soon became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore."</p>
+
+<p><b>noisy mansion.</b> The old-time school-room was a noisy place, the pupils
+studying their lessons aloud, and but little care being taken to secure
+quietness at any time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7">7.</a> <b>boding.</b> Foreboding; seeing that which is about to happen. From A.-S.
+<i>bodian</i>, to announce, to foretell.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8">8.</a> <b>village.</b> Villagers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9">9.</a> <b>terms and tides.</b> Times and seasons. <b>presage.</b> Foreknow. From Lat.
+<i>pre</i>, before, and <i>sagio</i>, to perceive.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10">10.</a> <b>gauge.</b> Measure liquids. The humor in this and in some other
+expressions in these verses is too apparent to require comment.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>[<a href="./images/128.png">128</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Oliver Goldsmith</span> was born at Pallas, county of Longford, Ireland, on the
+10th of November, 1728. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and
+afterwards studied medicine at Edinburgh and at Leyden. After travelling
+on foot through portions of Western Europe, he made his way to London,
+where he was in turn assistant to a chemist, usher in a school at
+Peckham, and literary hack for one of the leading monthly publications.
+He afterwards contributed many articles, both in prose and poetry, to
+the leading periodicals of the time. He wrote "The Traveller" in 1764,
+and "The Deserted Village" and <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i> in 1770. He died
+in his chambers in Brick Court, London, April 4, 1774. For a full
+account of his life, read Macaulay's Essay on Oliver Goldsmith.</p>
+
+<p>"The naturalness and ease of Goldsmith's poetry," says Edward Dowden,
+"are those of an accomplished craftsman. His verse, which flows towards
+the close of the period with such a gentle yet steady advance, is not
+less elaborated than that of Pope; and Goldsmith conceived his verse
+more in paragraphs than in couplets. His artless words were, each one,
+delicately chosen; his simple constructions were studiously sought." And
+Sir Walter Scott said of him: "It would be difficult to point out one
+among the English poets less likely to be excelled in his own style.
+Possessing much of Pope's versification without the monotonous structure
+of his lines; rising sometimes to the swell and fulness of Dryden,
+without his inflections; delicate and masterly in his descriptions;
+graceful in one of the greatest graces of poetry, its transitions; alike
+successful in his sportive or grave, his playful or melancholy mood; he
+may long bid defiance to the numerous competitors whom the friendship or
+flattery of the present age is so hastily arraying against him."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Traveller; the rest of The Deserted Village;
+Retaliation.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Irving's <i>Life of Goldsmith</i>; Forster's <i>Life and Times of
+Oliver Goldsmith</i>; Macaulay's Essay on <i>Goldsmith</i>; Thackeray's <i>English
+Humorists of the Eighteenth Century</i>; De Quincey's <i>Eighteenth Century</i>;
+Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; <i>Goldsmith</i> (English Men of Letters), by
+William Black.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>[<a href="./images/129.png">129</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Thomas Gray.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BARD.</h2>
+
+<h3>I. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Confusion on thy banners wait;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,<a name="marker_The_Bard_1" id="marker_The_Bard_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They mock the air with idle state.<a name="marker_The_Bard_2" id="marker_The_Bard_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Helm, nor hauberk's<a name="marker_The_Bard_3" id="marker_The_Bard_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_3" class="marker">3</a> twisted mail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Cambria's<a name="marker_The_Bard_4" id="marker_The_Bard_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_4" class="marker">4</a> curse, from Cambria's tears!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As down the steep of Snowdon's<a name="marker_The_Bard_5" id="marker_The_Bard_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_5" class="marker">5</a> shaggy side<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He wound with toilsome march his long array.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stout Gloster<a name="marker_The_Bard_6" id="marker_The_Bard_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_6" class="marker">6</a> stood aghast in speechless trance:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To arms!" cried Mortimer,<a name="marker_The_Bard_7" id="marker_The_Bard_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_7" class="marker">7</a> and couched his quivering lance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On a rock<a name="marker_The_Bard_8" id="marker_The_Bard_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_8" class="marker">8</a> whose haughty brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Robed in the sable garb of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With haggard eyes the poet stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a>[<a href="./images/130.png">130</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">(Loose his beard, and hoary hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air<a name="marker_The_Bard_9" id="marker_The_Bard_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_9" class="marker">9</a>)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.<a name="marker_The_Bard_10" id="marker_The_Bard_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To high-born Hoel's<a name="marker_The_Bard_11" id="marker_The_Bard_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_11" class="marker">11</a> harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That hushed the stormy main:<a name="marker_The_Bard_12" id="marker_The_Bard_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mountains, ye mourn in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Modred, whose magic song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made huge Plinlimmon<a name="marker_The_Bard_13" id="marker_The_Bard_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_13" class="marker">13</a> bow his cloud-topt head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On dreary Arvon's shore<a name="marker_The_Bard_14" id="marker_The_Bard_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_14" class="marker">14</a> they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The famished eagle<a name="marker_The_Bard_15" id="marker_The_Bard_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_15" class="marker">15</a> screams, and passes by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<a name="marker_The_Bard_16" id="marker_The_Bard_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more I weep. They do not sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see them sit,<a name="marker_The_Bard_17" id="marker_The_Bard_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_17" class="marker">17</a> they linger yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Avengers of their native land:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>[<a href="./images/131.png">131</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>II. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,<a name="marker_The_Bard_18" id="marker_The_Bard_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winding sheet of Edward's race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give ample room, and verge enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The characters of hell to trace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark the year, and mark the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrieks of an agonizing king!<a name="marker_The_Bard_19" id="marker_The_Bard_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She-wolf of France,<a name="marker_The_Bard_20" id="marker_The_Bard_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_20" class="marker">20</a> with unrelenting fangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scourge of heaven.<a name="marker_The_Bard_21" id="marker_The_Bard_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_21" class="marker">21</a> What terrors round him wait!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Mighty victor, mighty lord!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low on his funeral couch he lies!<a name="marker_The_Bard_22" id="marker_The_Bard_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No pitying heart, no eye, afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tear to grace his obsequies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the sable warrior<a name="marker_The_Bard_23" id="marker_The_Bard_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_23" class="marker">23</a> fled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gone to salute the rising morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,<a name="marker_The_Bard_24" id="marker_The_Bard_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While proudly riding o'er the azure realm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>[<a href="./images/132.png">132</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>II. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Fill high the sparkling bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rich repast prepare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close by the regal chair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl<a name="marker_The_Bard_25" id="marker_The_Bard_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heard ye the din of battle<a name="marker_The_Bard_26" id="marker_The_Bard_26"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_26" class="marker">26</a> bray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Long years of havoc urge their destined course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye towers of Julius,<a name="marker_The_Bard_27" id="marker_The_Bard_27"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_27" class="marker">27</a> London's lasting shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spare the meek usurper's<a name="marker_The_Bard_28" id="marker_The_Bard_28"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_28" class="marker">28</a> holy head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above, below, the rose of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Twined with her blushing foe,<a name="marker_The_Bard_29" id="marker_The_Bard_29"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_29" class="marker">29</a> we spread:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bristled boar<a name="marker_The_Bard_30" id="marker_The_Bard_30"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_30" class="marker">30</a> in infant-gore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Edward,<a name="marker_The_Bard_31" id="marker_The_Bard_31"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_31" class="marker">31</a> lo! to sudden fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half of thy heart<a name="marker_The_Bard_32" id="marker_The_Bard_32"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_32" class="marker">32</a> we consecrate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The web is wove. The work is done.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>[<a href="./images/133.png">133</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!<a name="marker_The_Bard_33" id="marker_The_Bard_33"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Girt with many a baron bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bearded majesty, appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the midst a form divine!<a name="marker_The_Bard_34" id="marker_The_Bard_34"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,<a name="marker_The_Bard_35" id="marker_The_Bard_35"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_35" class="marker">35</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What strings symphonious tremble in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What strains of vocal transport round her play.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,<a name="marker_The_Bard_36" id="marker_The_Bard_36"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_36" class="marker">36</a> hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The verse adorn again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fierce War, and faithful Love,<a name="marker_The_Bard_37" id="marker_The_Bard_37"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_37" class="marker">37</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In buskined measures<a name="marker_The_Bard_38" id="marker_The_Bard_38"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_38" class="marker">38</a> move<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A voice, as of the cherub-choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gales from blooming Eden bear;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>[<a href="./images/134.png">134</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lost in long futurity expire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fond,<a name="marker_The_Bard_39" id="marker_The_Bard_39"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_39" class="marker">39</a> impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow he repairs<a name="marker_The_Bard_40" id="marker_The_Bard_40"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_40" class="marker">40</a> the golden flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enough for me; with joy I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The different doom our fates assign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be thine despair, and sceptred care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To triumph, and to die, are mine."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a
+tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the
+conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands
+to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I.,
+as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are
+suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the
+summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human,
+reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had
+brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race,
+and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never
+extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men
+shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal
+strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure
+tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the
+mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."</p>
+
+<p>The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had
+any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer
+Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the
+Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence
+had not been diminished.</p>
+
+<p>This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after
+Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniform
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a>[<a href="./images/135.png">135</a>]</span>stanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three
+stanzas. The first of these parts is called the <i>Strophe</i>, or Turn; the
+second, the <i>Antistrophe</i>, or Counter-turn; the third, the <i>Epode</i>, or
+After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the
+ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient
+Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side
+of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed
+movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned
+to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the
+relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which
+enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown
+among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English
+language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our
+odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and
+divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such
+are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and
+Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are
+odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype
+and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so
+thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be
+given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English
+composition.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Bard_1" id="Note_The_Bard_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_1">1.</a> <b>crimson wing.</b> Explain the meaning of this line.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_2" id="Note_The_Bard_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_2">2.</a> Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mocking the air with colors idly spread."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_3" id="Note_The_Bard_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_3">3.</a> <b>hauberk.</b> From A.-S. <i>heals</i>, the neck, and <i>beorgan</i>, to protect.
+"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven,
+forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to
+every motion."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_4" id="Note_The_Bard_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_4">4.</a> <b>Cambria.</b> Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber,
+the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions
+among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England),
+which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania;
+and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_5" id="Note_The_Bard_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_5">5.</a> <b>Snowdon.</b> "Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous
+tract which the Welsh themselves call <i>Cragium-eryri</i>. It included all
+the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the
+river Conway."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i> It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of
+Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.</p>
+
+<p><b>shaggy.</b> See "Lycidas," 54:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>[<a href="./images/136.png">136</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_6" id="Note_The_Bard_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_6">6.</a> <b>Gloster.</b> "Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and
+Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_7" id="Note_The_Bard_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_7">7.</a> <b>Mortimer.</b> Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of
+King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the
+Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_8" id="Note_The_Bard_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_8">8.</a> <b>rock.</b> One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the
+extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the
+Conway River.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_9" id="Note_The_Bard_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_9">9.</a> "The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael,
+representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two
+of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other
+in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_10" id="Note_The_Bard_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_10">10.</a> Explain the meaning of this line.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_11" id="Note_The_Bard_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_11">11.</a> <b>Hoel.</b> A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still
+extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards.
+The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers
+to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of
+Taliessin&mdash;the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony."
+It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a
+bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war
+with King Edward. (See note <a href="#Note_The_Bard_7">7</a>, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of
+mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_12" id="Note_The_Bard_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_12">12.</a> <b>hushed the stormy main.</b> Shakespeare says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"The rude sea grew civil at her song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear the sea-maid's music."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, Act ii, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_13" id="Note_The_Bard_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_13">13.</a> <b>Plinlimmon.</b> A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is
+probably a corruption of <i>Pum-lumon</i>, "the fire-beacons," so-called
+because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the
+group.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_14" id="Note_The_Bard_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_14">14.</a> <b>Arvon's shore.</b> Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in
+Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland,
+opposite the island of Anglesey.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_15" id="Note_The_Bard_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_15">15.</a> <b>eagle.</b> "Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build
+their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some
+think) were named by the Welsh, <i>Craigian-eryri</i>, or the crags of the
+eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called
+'the Eagle's Nest.'"&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_16" id="Note_The_Bard_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_16">16.</a> <b>Dear as the ruddy drops.</b> Shakespeare has it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As dear to me as are the ruddy drops<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That visit my sad heart."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Julius C&aelig;sar</i>, Act ii, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>[<a href="./images/137.png">137</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_17" id="Note_The_Bard_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_17">17.</a> <b>I see them sit.</b> See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"On the steep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where your old bards, the Druids lie."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>griesly.</b> Grisly. From the A.-S. <i>grisli</i>, dreadful.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_18" id="Note_The_Bard_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_18">18.</a> <b>Weave the warp</b>, etc. As the <i>Fates</i> were represented by the ancient
+Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so the <i>Norns</i> in the Norse
+mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in
+battle.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Glittering lances are the loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Where the dusky warp we strain,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Shoot the trembling cords along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Swords that once a monarch bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Keep the tissue close and strong."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>The Fatal Sisters</i>, translated by Gray, from the Norse.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_19" id="Note_The_Bard_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_19">19.</a> "Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i>
+The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327.
+Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley,
+about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before
+the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its
+founders.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_20" id="Note_The_Bard_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_20">20.</a> <b>She-wolf of France.</b> Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II.
+Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>3 Henry VI.</i>, Act i, sc. 4.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_21" id="Note_The_Bard_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_21">21.</a> Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge
+to France.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_22" id="Note_The_Bard_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_22">22.</a> "Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and
+even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his
+mistress."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_23" id="Note_The_Bard_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_23">23.</a> <b>sable warrior.</b> "Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
+father."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_24" id="Note_The_Bard_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_24">24.</a> The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is
+figured in this and the following lines.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_25" id="Note_The_Bard_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_25">25.</a> <b>Thirst and Famine scowl.</b> When Richard II. died in prison, his body
+was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet
+rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But
+the older writers assert that he was starved to death.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_26" id="Note_The_Bard_26"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_26">26.</a> <b>din of battle.</b> "Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>bray.</b> From Gr. <i>bracho</i>, to clash.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_27" id="Note_The_Bard_27"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_27">27.</a> <b>towers of Julius.</b> "The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of
+London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius C&aelig;sar."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>[<a href="./images/138.png">138</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_28" id="Note_The_Bard_28"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_28">28.</a> <b>meek usurper.</b> "Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line
+of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i> The
+references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen
+Margaret, and his father, Henry V.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_29" id="Note_The_Bard_29"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_29">29.</a> <b>The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.</b> The reference is to
+the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the
+Roses.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_30" id="Note_The_Bard_30"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_30">30.</a> <b>bristled boar.</b> Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver
+boar. So Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In the sty of the most deadly boar."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Richard III.</i>, Act iv, sc. 5.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Swills your warm blood like wash."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i> Act v, sc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_31" id="Note_The_Bard_31"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_31">31.</a> The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again
+addresses the king.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_32" id="Note_The_Bard_32"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_32">32.</a> <b>Half of thy heart.</b> "Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the
+conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her
+lord is well known."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p>Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Sweet as new buds in spring."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_33" id="Note_The_Bard_33"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_33">33.</a> The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were
+ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal
+grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother
+was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied
+that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which
+seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_34" id="Note_The_Bard_34"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_34">34.</a> <b>a form divine.</b> Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_35" id="Note_The_Bard_35"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_35">35.</a> <b>awe-commanding face.</b> "Speed, relating an audience given by Queen
+Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she,
+lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately
+port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie
+cheekes.'"&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_36" id="Note_The_Bard_36"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_36">36.</a> Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth
+century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his
+countrymen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>[<a href="./images/139.png">139</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_37" id="Note_The_Bard_37"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_37">37.</a> See "Faerie Queene," 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_38" id="Note_The_Bard_38"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_38">38.</a> <b>buskined measures.</b> The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare.
+So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The
+buskin was the Greek <i>cothurnus</i>, a boot with high heels, designed to
+add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_39" id="Note_The_Bard_39"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_39">39.</a> <b>Fond.</b> Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so
+used by the older poets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_40" id="Note_The_Bard_40"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_40">40.</a> <b>he repairs.</b> So Milton:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And yet anon repairs his drooping head."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span> was born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through
+the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that
+famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735
+entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University
+without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple.
+Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour
+through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in
+Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself
+possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and
+devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and
+gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first
+of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of
+Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country
+Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written
+and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of
+Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber;
+but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern
+History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was
+never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of
+fifty-four.</p>
+
+<p>"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales,
+"and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not
+only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps too <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>[<a href="./images/140.png">140</a>]</span>fastidious, was pure and
+thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were
+of the truest and sincerest.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. His poems are works of refinement rather
+than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine sentiment. They
+are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of their author's
+reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with difficulty
+escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a genuine
+poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and
+truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed
+and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."</p>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could
+not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true
+in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost
+alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was
+'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.'
+Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of
+poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray
+may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he
+aimed."</p>
+
+<p>Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only
+poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."</p>
+
+<p>Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea,
+scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the
+best sense, one of the classics of English literature."</p>
+
+<p>And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most
+finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which
+poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the
+comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since
+Milton."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a
+Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of English Poets</i>; <i>Gray</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt's <i>Lectures on the English Poets</i>;
+Roscoe's <i>Essays</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>[<a href="./images/141.png">141</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Alexander Pope.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE "ESSAY ON CRITICISM."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some to Conceit<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1" class="marker">1</a> alone their taste confine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The naked nature and the living grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hide with ornaments their want of art.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gives us back the image of our mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As shades more sweetly recommend the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For works may have more wit than does 'em good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As bodies perish through excess of blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Others for Language all their care express,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And value books, as women men,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5" class="marker">5</a> for dress:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their praise is still,&mdash;the style is excellent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sense, they humbly take upon content.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>[<a href="./images/142.png">142</a>]</span><span class="i0">In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The face of nature we no more survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All glares alike, without distinction gay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It gilds all objects, but it alters none.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Expression is the dress of thought, and still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appears more decent, as more suitable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A vile conceit in pompous words express'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some by old words to fame have made pretence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unlucky, as Fungoso<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8" class="marker">8</a> in the play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These sparks<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9" class="marker">9</a> with awkward vanity display<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And but so mimic ancient wits at best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alike fantastic, if too new or old:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But most by numbers judge a poet's song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who haunt Parnassus<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10" class="marker">10</a> but to please their ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not mend<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11" class="marker">11</a> their minds, as some to church repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not for the doctrine, but the music there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These equal syllables alone require,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>[<a href="./images/143.png">143</a>]</span><span class="i0">Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While expletives their feeble aid do join;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sure returns of still expected rhymes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, at the last and only couplet fraught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A needless Alexandrine ends the song,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And praise the easy vigor of a line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Denham's strength and Waller's<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16" class="marker">16</a> sweetness join.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sound must seem an echo to the sense:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the smooth stream in smoother numbers<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17" class="marker">17</a> flows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Ajax<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18" class="marker">18</a> strives some rock's vast weight to throw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The line too labors, and the words move slow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so, when swift Camilla<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19" class="marker">19</a> scours the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear how Timotheus'<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20" class="marker">20</a> vary'd lays surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bid alternate passions fall and rise!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21" class="marker">21</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>[<a href="./images/144.png">144</a>]</span><span class="i0">Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The power of music all our hearts allow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That always shows great pride, or little sense:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For fools admire, but men of sense approve:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As things seem large which we through mists descry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dulness is ever apt to magnify.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some foreign writers, some our own despise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ancients only, or the moderns prize.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And force that sun but on a part to shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which from the first has shone on ages past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho' each may feel increases and decays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see now clearer and now darker days.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regard not, then, if wit be old or new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But blame the false, and value still the true.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But catch the spreading notion of the Town;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>[<a href="./images/145.png">145</a>]</span><span class="i0">They reason and conclude by precedent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all this servile herd, the worst is he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in proud dulness joins with Quality.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A constant critic at the great man's board,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What woful stuff this madrigal would be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let a Lord once own the happy lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the wit brightens! how the style refines!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And each exalted stanza teems with thought!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724
+lines, and is written in heroic couplets&mdash;that style of poetic
+composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound
+critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in
+a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of
+the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by
+Boileau's "Art Po&eacute;tique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica,"
+and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the
+classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of
+independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but
+having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to
+mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by
+no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this
+poem."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1">1.</a> <b>Conceit.</b> Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty;
+it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."&mdash;<i>Pope.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2">2.</a> <b>fit.</b> Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise
+Lost," V, 7).</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3">3.</a> <b>wit.</b> This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to
+indicate a variety of ideas,&mdash;such as thought, knowledge, imagination,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>[<a href="./images/146.png">146</a>]</span>expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer
+than twelve couplets rhyming to it.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4">4.</a> "It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the
+maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed
+them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that
+these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate
+as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their
+truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so
+well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best
+critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever
+trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended
+upon how to say it."&mdash;<i>Pattison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5">5.</a> <b>as women men.</b> "As women value men," or "as women by men are
+valued"&mdash;which?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6">6.</a> <b>humbly take upon content.</b> Are satisfied to take in faith.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7">7.</a> <b>sort.</b> Agree.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8">8.</a> <b>Fungoso.</b> A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his
+Humour."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9">9.</a> <b>sparks.</b> Fops; vain, showy men.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10">10.</a> <b>Parnassus.</b> A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the
+Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11">11.</a> <b>mend.</b> Improve, make better, amend.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Mend your speech a little<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest it may mar your fortunes."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>King Lear</i>, Act i, sc. i.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12">12.</a> "The gaping of the vowels in this line, the expletive <i>do</i> in the
+next, and the ten monosyllables in that which follows, give such a
+beauty to this passage as would have been very much admired in an
+ancient poet."&mdash;<i>Addison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13">13.</a> Pope himself is not disinclined to make use of these rhymes. See
+"Essay on Man," 271.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14">14.</a> Referring to the Spenserian stanza which is composed of nine lines,
+eight of which are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter or
+Alexandrine. The name Alexandrine is said to have been derived from an
+old French poem on Alexander the Great, written about the twelfth or
+thirteenth century, and composed entirely of hexameter verses. See note
+on the versification of the "Faerie Queene," page <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15">15.</a> Observe the skill with which, both in this line and in several which
+precede and follow, the poet has made "the sound to seem an echo to the
+sense."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>[<a href="./images/147.png">147</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16">16.</a> Waller had been regarded as the greatest poet of the seventeenth
+century (see page <a href="#Page_205">205</a>), and Denham, in the time of Pope, was more
+esteemed than Milton or Spenser. Dryden called Denham</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">"That limping old bard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose fame on 'The Sophy' and 'Cooper's Hill' stands."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17">17.</a> <b>numbers.</b> Poetical metre.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As yet a child nor yet a fool to fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18">18.</a> <b>Ajax.</b> "The beautiful distich upon Ajax puts me in mind of a
+description in Homer's 'Odyssey,' which none of the critics have taken
+notice of. It is where Sisyphus is represented lifting his stone up the
+hill which is no sooner carried to the top of it, but it immediately
+tumbles to the bottom. This double motion of the stone is admirably
+described in the numbers of these verses; as in the four first it is
+heaved up by several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places,
+and at last trundles down in a continual line of dactyls."&mdash;<i>Addison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19">19.</a> <b>Camilla.</b> The virgin queen of the Volsci. She aided Turnus against
+&AElig;neas, and was famed for her fleetness of foot.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20">20.</a> <b>Timotheus.</b> See notes on "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21">21.</a> <b>son of Libyan Jove.</b> Alexander. See note 5, page <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22">22.</a> <b>Quality.</b> Persons of high rank.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.</h2>
+
+<h3>MDCCVIII.</h3>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Descend, ye Nine!<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" class="marker">1</a> descend and sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The breathing instruments inspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake into voice each silent string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweep the sounding lyre!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a sadly pleasing strain,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the warbling lute complain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let the loud trumpet sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Till the roofs all around<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The shrill echoes rebound;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>[<a href="./images/148.png">148</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hark! the numbers soft and clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gently steal upon the ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now louder, and yet louder rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fill with spreading sounds the skies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till, by degrees, remote and small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The strains decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And melt away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a dying, dying fall.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By music, minds an equal temper know,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music her soft, assuasive<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" class="marker">4</a> voice applies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Exalts her in enlivening airs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warriors she fires with animated sounds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Melancholy lifts her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Morpheus rouses from his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Listening Envy drops her snakes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intestine war no more our passions wage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giddy factions hear away their rage.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when our country's cause provokes to arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How martial music every bosom warms!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>[<a href="./images/149.png">149</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">While Argo saw her kindred trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Descend from Pelion to the main.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Transported demi-gods<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" class="marker">6</a> stood round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And men grew heroes at the sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inflamed with glory's charms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half unsheathed the shining blade:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To arms! to arms! to arms!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when, through all the infernal bounds<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Love, strong as death,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" class="marker">8</a> the poet led<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the pale nations of the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What sounds were heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What scenes appear'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'er all the dreary coast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dreadful gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dismal screams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fires that glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shrieks of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sullen moans,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hollow groans,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cries of tortured ghosts!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And see! the tortured ghosts respire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">See, shady forms<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" class="marker">9</a> advance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ixion rests upon his wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the pale spectres dance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Furies sink upon their iron beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>[<a href="./images/150.png">150</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">By the streams that ever flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the fragrant winds that blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er the Elysian flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By those happy souls who dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In yellow meads of asphodel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or amaranthine bowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><a name="heroes_armed_shades" id="heroes_armed_shades"></a>By the heroes' armed shades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Glittering through the gloomy glades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the youths that died for love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wandering in the myrtle grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Restore, restore Eurydice to life:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh take the husband, or return the wife!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He sung, and hell<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" class="marker">11</a> consented<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To hear the poet's prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stern Proserpine relented,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And gave him back the fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thus song could prevail<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O'er death and o'er hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A conquest how hard and how glorious!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though fate had fast bound her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With Styx nine times round her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet music and love were victorious.<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now under hanging mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the falls of fountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>[<a href="./images/151.png">151</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Or where Hebrus wanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rolling in meanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unheard, unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He makes his moan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And calls her ghost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever, ever, ever lost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now with furies surrounded,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Despairing, confounded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He trembles, he glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amidst Rhodope's<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" class="marker">14</a> snows:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! H&aelig;mus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Ah see, he dies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eurydice the woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eurydice the floods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Music<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" class="marker">15</a> the fiercest grief can charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fate's severest rage disarm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Music can soften pain to ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And make despair and madness please:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our joys below it can improve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And antedate the bliss above.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This the divine Cecilia found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to her Maker's praise confined the sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The immortal powers incline their ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>[<a href="./images/152.png">152</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And angels lean from heaven to hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To bright Cecilia greater power is given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His numbers raised a shade from hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hers lift the soul to heaven.<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1708 at the suggestion of Sir Richard Steele;
+it was set to music by Maurice Greene, and in 1730 was performed at the
+public commemoration at Cambridge. Its model is Dryden's famous ode,
+"Alexander's Feast," of which Pope was a warm admirer (see page <a href="#Page_159">159</a>).
+Dr. Johnson says; "In his 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day' Pope is generally
+confessed to have miscarried; yet he has miscarried only as compared
+with Dryden, for he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is
+better chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the passions
+than fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains
+of real life; the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is
+read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs
+upon the ear, Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the odes want
+the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated
+recurrence of settled numbers.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. If Pope's ode be particularly
+inspected, it will be found that the first stanza consists of sounds,
+well chosen, indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of
+hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and, perhaps, without
+much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, however, there
+are numbers, images, harmony, and vigor not unworthy the antagonist of
+Dryden. Had all been like this&mdash;but every part cannot be the best. The
+next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
+mythology; .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. we have all that can be performed by elegance of diction
+or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without better
+matter? The last stanza again refers to commonplaces. The conclusion is
+too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be remarked that
+both end with the same fault&mdash;the comparison of each is literal on one
+side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do not always express their
+own thoughts. Pope, with all this labor in the praise of music, was
+ignorant of its principles and insensible of its effects."</p>
+
+<p>St. Cecilia, the Christian Polyhymnia and patron saint of sacred music,
+is said to have suffered martyrdom about the year 230. In Chaucer's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>[<a href="./images/153.png">153</a>]</span>"Seconde Nonnes Tale"&mdash;which is an almost literal translation of the
+"Legenda Aurea," written in the thirteenth century&mdash;it is related that,
+on account of Cecilia's spotless purity, an angel came down from heaven
+to be her guardian. Her husband, Valerian, was also the recipient of
+angelic favors, for</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"This angel had of roses and lilie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Corones two, the which he bare in honde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And first to Cecile, as I understonde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He yaf that on, and after gan he take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That other to Valerian hire make."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>How and when Cecilia was first recognized as the patron saint of music
+does not appear. The legend only says, that</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"While the organs maden melodie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To God alone thus in hire hert song she;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'O Lord, my soule and eke my body gie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>There is also a tradition in the church that St. Cecilia was the
+inventor of the organ. Dryden calls her "inventress of the vocal frame"
+(see page <a href="#Page_164">164</a>). The origin of this musical instrument is not known, but
+the first organs used in Italy are said to have been brought thither
+from Greece. Some of the Roman churches are known to have had them in
+use in the seventh century, but they were not common until several
+hundred years later. The festival of St. Cecilia occurs on the 22d of
+November.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1">1.</a> <b>ye Nine.</b> The nine Muses: (1) Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry; (2)
+Clio, the Muse of history; (3) Euterpe, the Muse of lyric poetry; (4)
+Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy; (5) Terpsichore, the Muse of choral
+dance and song; (6) Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry; (7) Polyhymnia,
+the Muse of the sublime hymn; (8) Urania, the Muse of astronomy; (9)
+Thalia, the Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. The custom of invoking
+the Muses, at the beginning of poems, is derived from Homer:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Iliad</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Who, having overthrown the sacred town<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Ilium, wandered far," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Odyssey</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<p>Milton invokes the</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"heavenly Muse that on the secret top<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shepherd," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>[<a href="./images/154.png">154</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2">2.</a> Observe how, in the sixteen lines following, the sound is made in
+some measure to be "an echo to the sense."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3">3.</a> <b>equal temper know.</b> Evenness of disposition acquire. The music of
+Timotheus had an opposite effect on Alexander. See "Alexander's Feast."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4">4.</a> <b>assuasive.</b> Moderating.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5">5.</a> <b>the Thracian raised his strain.</b> Orpheus was a Thracian, the son of
+&OElig;agrus and the Muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a lyre, and the Muses
+instructed him in its use; and so sweet was the music which he drew from
+it that the wild beasts were enchanted and the trees and rocks moved
+from their places to follow the sound. When Jason and his followers, the
+Argonauts, were unable to launch their ship Argo, Orpheus played his
+lyre, and the vessel glided into the sea, while her "kindred trees
+descended" from the slopes of the mountain (Pelion) and followed her
+into "the main."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6">6.</a> <b>demi-gods.</b> Half-gods; heroes. Among the Argonauts were Hercules,
+Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Peleus, Nestor, and others similarly
+renowned.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7">7.</a> <b>infernal bounds.</b> Boundaries of hell. The wife of Orpheus was a nymph
+named Eurydice. She having died from the bite of a serpent, the sweet
+musician followed her into the infernal regions. He begged of Pluto that
+his wife might return with him to the earth, but his prayer was granted
+only upon condition that he should not look back upon her until both had
+safely passed the gates between Hades and the upper world. The poet
+tells the rest of the story.</p>
+
+<p><b>Phlegethon.</b> A river of hell in which flowed fire instead of water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8">8.</a> See Song of Solomon viii. 6: "Love is strong as death."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9">9.</a> <b>shady forms.</b> Departed spirits were called "shades," because they were
+supposed to be perceptible sometimes to the sight but never to the
+touch. See "<a href="#heroes_armed_shades">heroes' armed shades</a>," below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10">10.</a> <b>Sisyphus.</b> See note 18, page <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ixion.</b> King of the Lapith&aelig;. As a punishment for ingratitude to Zeus, his
+hands and feet were chained to a wheel which was always in motion.</p>
+
+<p><b>Furies.</b> See note 20, page <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11">11.</a> <b>hell.</b> The powers of hell&mdash;or, as he explains below, Proserpine, the
+queen of the infernal regions. <b>Styx.</b> The principal river of hell, around
+which it flows seven&mdash;not nine&mdash;times.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12">12.</a> See Milton's "L'Allegro," 135:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lap me in soft Lydian airs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Married to immortal verse, .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That Orpheus' self may heave his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">From golden slumber on a bed<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>[<a href="./images/155.png">155</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Such strains as would have won the ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Pluto to have quite set free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His half-regain'd Eurydice."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13">13.</a> Orpheus's grief for the loss of Eurydice caused him to treat with
+contempt the Thracian women among whom he dwelt, and they in revenge
+tore him to pieces, under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies.
+His head was given by the Hebrus to the sea, and finally carried to the
+island of Lesbos, where it was buried. See Milton's "Lycidas," 58:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The Muse herself for her enchanting son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Whom universal nature did lament,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When by the rout that made the hideous roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His gory visage down the stream was sent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>See, also, "Paradise Lost," VII, 32:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"The barbarous dissonance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rapture, till the savage clamor drown'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her son."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14">14.</a> <b>Rhodope.</b> A range of mountains in Thrace, sacred to Bacchus. <b>H&aelig;mus</b>
+was another range extending from Rhodope, on the west, to the Black Sea,
+on the east.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15">15.</a> <b>Music.</b> Compare what Pope says of music with:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Congreve</i>, <i>The Mourning Bride</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Music! sphere-descended maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Collins</i>, <i>The Passions</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Soft is the music that would charm forever."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Wordsworth</i>, <i>Sonnets</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16">16.</a> Compare these lines with the four which end Dryden's "Alexander's
+Feast."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexander Pope</span> was born in London in 1688. He had some instruction at
+home, and was afterwards sent, first to a Roman Catholic seminary near
+Winchester, then to another in London. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>[<a href="./images/156.png">156</a>]</span>"This," he said, "was all the
+teaching I ever had, and God knows it extended a very little way. When I
+had done with my priests, I took to reading by myself, for which I had a
+very great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry: and in a few
+years I had dipped into a very great number of the English, Italian,
+Latin, and Greek poets." He was small of stature and deformed, and his
+ill health made him peevish, irritable, and selfish. Yet his rare
+intellectual abilities and the deserved success of his earlier poetry
+secured for him the friendship of many of the most influential men of
+the time. Bolingbroke declared that he never knew a man more tenderly
+devoted to his friends; and Warburton said, "He is as good a companion
+as poet, and, what is more, appears to be a good man."</p>
+
+<p>Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711; the "Rape of the
+Lock" in 1714; his translation of Homer's "Iliad" in 1715-18, and of the
+"Odyssey" in 1726; the "Dunciad" in 1728; the "Essay on Man" in 1732. A
+revised and enlarged version of the "Dunciad" was published in 1742. The
+latter part of Pope's life was spent at his country-seat of Twickenham,
+which he enlarged and beautified from the proceeds of his translation of
+Homer. He died in 1744.</p>
+
+<p>"Pope is our greatest master in didactic poetry," says Stopford Brooke,
+"not so much because of the worth of the thoughts as because of the
+masterly form in which they are put."</p>
+
+<p>"In two directions," says Mark Pattison, "in that of condensing and
+pointing his meaning, and in that of drawing the utmost harmony of sound
+out of the couplet, Pope carried versification far beyond the point at
+which it was when he took it up. The matter which he worked up into his
+verse has a permanent value, and is indeed one of the most precious
+heirlooms which the eighteenth century has bequeathed us."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Rape of the Lock; The Dying Christian to his
+Soul; The Universal Prayer; Pastorals; Windsor Forest.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Stephen's <i>Hours in a
+Library</i>; De Quincey's <i>Literature of the Eighteenth Century</i>; Lowell's
+<i>My Study Window</i>; <i>Pope</i> (English Men of Letters), by Leslie Stephen.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>[<a href="./images/157.png">157</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Seventeenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>The people of the seventeenth century were weary of liberty, weary of
+the unmitigated rage of the dramatists, cloyed with the roses and the
+spices and the kisses of the lyrists, tired of being carried over the
+universe and up and down the avenues of history at the freak of every
+irresponsible rhymester. Literature had been set open to all the breezes
+of heaven by the blustering and glittering Elizabethans, and in the
+hands of their less gifted successors it was fast declining into a mere
+Cave of the Winds.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. We know the poets of the early Caroline period
+almost entirely by extracts, and their ardor, quaintness, and sudden
+flashes of inspiration give them a singular advantage in this form. The
+sustained elevation which had characterized Shakespeare and Spenser, and
+even in some degree several of the chief of their contemporaries, had
+passed away, but still the poets were most brilliant, most delectable in
+their purple patches.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. As the last waves of the Renaissance died away,
+a deathly calm settled down upon the pools of thought. Man returned from
+the particular to the general, from romantic examples to those
+disquisitions on the norm which were thought to display a classical
+taste. The seer disappeared, and the artificer took his place. For a
+whole century the singer that only sang because he must, and as the
+linnets do, was entirely absent from English literature. He came back at
+the close of the eighteenth century, with Burns in Scotland, and with
+Blake in England.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse.</span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>At the same time, amid the classical coldness which then dried up
+English literature, and the social excess which then corrupted English
+morals .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. appeared a mighty and superb mind (Milton), prepared by logic
+and enthusiasm for eloquence and the epic style; the heir of a poetical
+age, the precursor of an austere age, holding his place between the
+epoch of unselfish dreaming and the epoch of practical action.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>[<a href="./images/158.png">158</a>]</span></p>
+<h3><b>Poets of the Seventeenth Century.</b></h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Ben Jonson</b> (1573-1637). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Drummond of Hawthornden</b> (1585-1649). Short poems; "Poems:
+Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
+Madrigals"; "Floures of Sion."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Browne</b> (1588-1643). "Britannia's Pastorals"; "The Shepherd's
+Pipe"; "The Inner Temple Masque."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Wither</b> (1588-1667). Short poems; "Collection of Emblems"; "Nature
+of Man"; "The Shepheard's Hunting"; "Fidelia."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Phineas Fletcher</b> (1582-1650). "The Locustes"; "The Purple Island."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Giles Fletcher</b> (1588-1623). "Christ's Victory and Triumph."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Carew</b> (1589-1639). Short poems; "C&aelig;lum Britannicum."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Francis Quarles</b> (1592-1644). "Divine Poems"; "Emblems, Divine and
+Moral."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Herrick</b> (1594-1674). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Suckling</b> (1608-1642). Love poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Lovelace</b> (1618-1658). Short poems; "Lucasta: Odes, Sonnets,
+Songs," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Herbert of Cherbury</b> (1581-1648). Odes and short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Herbert</b> (1592-1634). "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private
+Ejaculations"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Sandys</b> (1577-1643). "Christ's Passion."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Crashaw</b> (1615-1650). "Steps to the Altar."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Henry Vaughan</b> (1621-1695). "Silex Scintillans"; "The Mount of Olives."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Abraham Cowley</b> (1618-1667). "Poetical Blossomes"; "The Mistress."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edmund Waller</b> (1605-1687). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Denham</b> (1615-1668). "Cooper's Hill."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir William Davenant</b> (1605-1668). "Gondibert"; "Madagascar and Other
+Poems."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Milton</b> (1608-1674). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Andrew Marvell</b> (1621-1678). Lyric and satiric poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Butler</b> (1612-1680). "Hudibras."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Otway</b> (1651-1685). "The Poet's Complaint of his Muse"; "Windsor
+Castle."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Dryden</b> (1631-1700). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>[<a href="./images/159.png">159</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Dryden.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC:</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">An Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia's Day.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas at the royal feast,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_1" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_1"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_1" class="marker">1</a> for Persia won<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By Philip's warlike son:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Aloft in awful state<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The godlike hero sate<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On his imperial throne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His valiant peers were placed around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound:<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_2" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_2"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(So should desert in arms be crowned.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lovely Thais,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_3" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_3"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_3" class="marker">3</a> by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sate like a blooming Eastern bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In flower of youth and beauty's pride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Happy, happy, happy pair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave deserves the fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Happy, happy, happy pair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave deserves the fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>[<a href="./images/160.png">160</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Timotheus,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_4" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_4"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_4" class="marker">4</a> placed on high<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Amid the tuneful quire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With flying fingers touched the lyre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The trembling notes ascend the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And heavenly joys inspire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The song began from Jove,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_5" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_5"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who left his blissful seats above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(Such is the power of mighty love.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A dragon's fiery form belied the god:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sublime on radiant spires he rode.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A present deity,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_6" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_6"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_6" class="marker">6</a> they shout around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With ravish'd ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The monarch hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Assumes the god,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Affects to nod,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_7" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_7"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And seems to shake the spheres.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With ravish'd ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The monarch hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Assumes the god,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Affects to nod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And seems to shake the spheres.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The jolly god in triumph comes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Flush'd with a purple grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He shows his honest face:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now give the hautboys<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_8" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_8"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_8" class="marker">8</a> breath; he comes! he comes!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>[<a href="./images/161.png">161</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Bacchus, ever fair and young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Drinking joys did first ordain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rich the treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sweet the pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweet is pleasure after pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Rich the treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Sweet the pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sweet is pleasure after pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fought all his battles o'er again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_9" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_9"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The master saw the madness rise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He chose a mournful muse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Soft pity to infuse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He sung Darius<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_10" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_10"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_10" class="marker">10</a> great and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">By too severe a fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fallen from his high estate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And welt'ring in his blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Deserted at his utmost need,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By those his former bounty fed:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>[<a href="./images/162.png">162</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">On the bare earth expos'd he lies,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_11" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_11"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With not a friend to close his eyes.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_12" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_12"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revolving in his alter'd soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The various turns of chance below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, now and then, a sigh he stole,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_13" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_13"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tears began to flow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Revolving in his alter'd soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The various turns of chance below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, now and then, a sigh he stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And tears began to flow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The mighty master smil'd to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That love was in the next degree:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twas but a kindred sound to move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For pity melts the mind to love.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_14" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_14"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Softly sweet, in Lydian<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_15" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_15"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_15" class="marker">15</a> measures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">War, he sung, is toil and trouble;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Honor, but an empty bubble;<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_16" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_16"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never ending, still beginning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fighting still, and still destroying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If the world be worth thy winning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Think, oh think it worth enjoying!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lovely Thais sits beside thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Take the good the gods provide thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The many<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_17" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_17"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_17" class="marker">17</a> rend the air with loud applause;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The prince, unable to conceal his pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gaz'd on the fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who caus'd his care,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>[<a href="./images/163.png">163</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">And sigh'd and look'd,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_18" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_18"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_18" class="marker">18</a> sigh'd and look'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The prince, unable to conceal his pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Gaz'd on the fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Who caus'd his care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now strike the golden lyre again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Break his bands of sleep<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_19" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_19"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_19" class="marker">19</a> asunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hark, hark, the horrid sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Has raised up his head!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As awaked from the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And amaz'd he stares around.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">See the Furies<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_20" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_20"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_20" class="marker">20</a> arise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">See the snakes that they rear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How they hiss in their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Behold a ghastly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Each a torch in his hand!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those are Grecian ghosts,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_21" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_21"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_21" class="marker">21</a> that in battle were slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And unburied remain<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Inglorious on the plain:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>[<a href="./images/164.png">164</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Give the vengeance due<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the valiant crew.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_22" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_22"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold how they toss their torches on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How they point to the Persian abodes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glittering temples of their hostile gods!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The princes applaud with a furious joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thais led the way,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_23" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_23"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_23" class="marker">23</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To light him to his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like another Helen, fired another Troy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thais led the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To light him to his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like another Helen, fired another Troy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Thus, long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While organs<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_24" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_24"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_24" class="marker">24</a> yet were mute;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Timotheus to his breathing flute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sounding lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At last divine Cecilia came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Inventress of the vocal frame;<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_25" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_25"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enlarged the former narrow bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And added length to solemn sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let old Timotheus yield the prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or both divide the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He rais'd a mortal to the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She drew an angel down.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_26" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_26"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>[<a href="./images/165.png">165</a>]</span>
+<span class="i7"><i>Grand Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At last divine Cecilia came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inventress of the vocal frame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enlarged the former narrow bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And added length to solemn sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let old Timotheus yield the prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or both divide the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He rais'd a mortal to the skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She drew an angel down.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This song was written in 1697. Lord Bolingbroke relates that, calling
+upon the poet one morning, Dryden said to him: "I have been up all
+night; my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for their
+Feast of St. Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which
+occurred to me that I could not leave it till I had completed it: here
+it is, finished at one sitting."</p>
+
+<p>The poem was first set to music by one Jeremiah Clarke, a steward of the
+Musical Society, whose members had solicited Dryden to write it. In 1736
+it was rearranged by the great composer Handel, and again presented at a
+public performance.</p>
+
+<p>M. Taine says, "His 'Alexander's Feast' is an admirable trumpet-blast,
+in which metre and sound impress upon the nerves the emotions of the
+mind, a master-piece of rapture and of art, which Victor Hugo alone has
+come up to."</p>
+
+<p>"As a piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or recited in
+alternate strophe and anti-strophe," says Hazlitt, "nothing can be
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"This ode is Dryden's greatest and best work."&mdash;<i>Macaulay.</i></p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_1" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_1"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_1">1.</a> <b>royal feast.</b> About the year <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> 331, Alexander the Great, having
+overthrown the Persian Empire, held a great feast at Persepolis in
+celebration of his victories. At the close of the revelries, instigated,
+it is said, by Thais, his Athenian mistress, he set fire with his own
+hand to the great palace of Persepolis; and a general massacre of the
+inhabitants ensued. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>[<a href="./images/166.png">166</a>]</span>The ruins of the city and palace are still to be
+seen in a beautiful valley watered by the river Araxes&mdash;now called
+Bendemir&mdash;not far from the border of the Carmanian Desert.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_2" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_2"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_2">2.</a> <b>with roses and with myrtles.</b> At the banquets of the Greeks it was the
+custom of the guests to wear garlands of roses and myrtles.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_3" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_3"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_3">3.</a> <b>Thais.</b> "Her name is best known from the story of her having
+stimulated the Conqueror, during a great festival at Persepolis, to set
+fire to the palace of the Persian kings; but this anecdote, immortalized
+as it has been by Dryden's famous ode, appears to rest on the sole
+authority of Cleitarchus, one of the least trustworthy of the historians
+of Alexander, and is in all probability a mere fable." After the death
+of Alexander, Thais became the wife of Ptolemy Lagus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_4" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_4"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_4">4.</a> <b>Timotheus.</b> A famous flute-player from Thebes. Another and more
+celebrated Timotheus, "the poet of the later Athenian dithyramb," was a
+native of Miletus and died about the time of Alexander's birth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_5" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_5"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_5">5.</a> Alexander claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon; and when he visited
+the temple of that god, in the Libyan Desert, he was received by the
+priests and honored as such. See Plutarch's <i>Life of Alexander</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_6" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_6"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_6">6.</a> <b>present deity.</b> See Psalm xlvi. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_7" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_7"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_7">7.</a> <b>affects to nod.</b> See Homer's "Iliad." I, 528-530: "Jove spake, and
+nodded his dark brow, and the ambrosial locks waved from his immortal
+head; and he made great Olympus quake."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_8" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_8"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_8">8.</a> <b>hautboys.</b> Oboes. French <i>hautbois</i>. Wind instruments resembling the
+clarionet.</p>
+
+<p><b>Bacchus.</b> Compare Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come, thou monarch of the vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Antony and Cleopatra</i>, Act ii, sc. 7.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_9" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_9"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_9">9.</a> <b>thrice he slew the slain.</b> How could he slay the slain?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_10" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_10"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_10">10.</a> <b>Darius.</b> At the time of this feast at Persepolis, Darius, the
+vanquished king of Persia, was still living, although a fugitive. In the
+following year Alexander pursued him into the Parthian Desert, where he
+was murdered by the satrap of Bactria. By order of Alexander, the body
+of the unfortunate king was sent to Persepolis, to be buried in the
+tombs of the kings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_11" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_11"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_11">11.</a> <b>expos'd he lies.</b> Dryden seems to have written this under the
+impression that Darius had been killed before the time of the great
+feast at Persepolis.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_12" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_12"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_12">12.</a> <b>close his eyes.</b> Compare this with the lines from Pope ("Elegy on an
+Unfortunate Lady"):</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>[<a href="./images/167.png">167</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_13" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_13"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_13">13.</a> <b>a sigh he stole.</b> Sighed silently. His sighs when the result of pity
+were not very distinctly uttered. Compare Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">"And then the lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sighing like a furnace."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>As You Like It</i>, Act ii, sc. 7.</p>
+
+<p>And then read, in the next stanza, how Alexander sighed when moved by
+love.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_14" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_14"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_14">14.</a> <b>pity melts the mind to love.</b> Compare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pity swells the tide of love."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Young's Night Thoughts</i>, III, 106.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pity's akin to love."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Southern's Oroonoko</i>, II, 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_15" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_15"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_15">15.</a> <b>Lydian measures.</b> The people of Lydia were noted for the effeminacy
+of their manners. And Lydian music was peculiarly soft and voluptuous.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And ever against eating cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Lap me in soft Lydian airs."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Milton's L'Allegro</i>, 135.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And all the while sweet Musicke did divide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Her looser notes with Lydian harmony."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Spenser's Faerie Queene</i>, III, 1.</p>
+
+<p>Observe the change in metre in the ten lines beginning "Softly sweet."
+What does the word <i>sweet</i> modify?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_16" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_16"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_16">16.</a> <b>Honor, but an empty bubble.</b> So Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Honor is a mere scutcheon."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>1 Henry IV.</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_17" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_17"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_17">17.</a> <b>The many.</b> The multitude.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_18" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_18"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_18">18.</a> <b>sigh'd and look'd.</b> He no longer <i>steals</i> a sigh, as he did when
+pitying Darius. See note <a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_13">13</a>, above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_19" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_19"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_19">19.</a> <b>Break his bands of sleep.</b> The music now is very different from the
+Lydian measures which "soothed his soul to pleasures." "Suidas," says
+Dr. Warton, "mentions the Orthian style in music, in which Timotheus is
+said to have played to Alexander; and one Antigenidas inflamed this
+prince still more by striking into what were called Harmatian measures.
+Quintus Curtius gives a minute description of the burning of the palace
+at Persepolis, when Alexander was accompanied by Thais. But it does not
+appear in the accurate Arrian that Thais had any share in this
+transaction. Arrian, but more so Aristobulus, endeavored to exculpate
+Alexander from the charge of frequent ebriety; but Menander plainly
+mentions the drunkenness of Alexander as proverbial."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_20" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_20"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_20">20.</a> <b>Furies.</b> The Eumenides, or avengers of evil. They are variously
+represented by the poets. &AElig;schylus describes them as having black
+bodies, hair composed of twining snakes, and eyes dripping with blood.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>[<a href="./images/168.png">168</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_21" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_21"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_21">21.</a> <b>Grecian ghosts.</b> The spirits of the Greek warriors in Alexander's
+army who had been slain by the Persians.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_22" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_22"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_22">22.</a> <b>crew.</b> This word was formerly used to designate any associated
+multitude or assemblage of persons. It is now restricted to a ship's
+company, except when occasionally used in a bad sense. From A.-S.
+<i>cread</i> or <i>cruth</i>, a crowd.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_23" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_23"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_23">23.</a> <b>Thais led the way, etc.</b> See note <a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_19">19</a>, above. Neither Thais nor Helen
+actually fired any city. What the poet means to say is that, as Helen
+was the cause of the destruction of Troy, so Thais instigated the
+burning of Persepolis.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_24" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_24"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_24">24.</a> <b>organs.</b> The word <i>organ</i> originally denoted but a single pipe, and
+hence the older English writers, when referring to the complete
+instrument, generally used the word in the plural number. "Father
+Schmidt and other famous organ-builders flourished in the latter part of
+the seventeenth century. The organ in Temple Church, London, was built
+by Schmidt in Charles II.'s time."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_25" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_25"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_25">25.</a> <b>vocal frame.</b> The organ&mdash;the grand instrument of church music&mdash;so
+perfect that it may literally be said to speak. See introductory note to
+Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," page <a href="#Page_152">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_26" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_26"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_26">26.</a> St. Cecilia, according to the story in the "Golden Legend," was
+under the immediate protection of an angel. But it was not her sweet
+playing, but her spotless purity, that brought the angel to earth, not
+to listen, but to be "a heavenly guard."</p>
+
+<p>Compare these last four lines with those at the close of Pope's Ode.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Warton says of "Alexander's Feast": "If Dryden had never written
+anything but this ode, his name would have been immortal, as would that
+of Gray, if he had never written anything but his 'Bard.' It is
+difficult to find new terms to express our admiration of the variety,
+richness, and melody of its numbers; the force, beauty, and distinctness
+of its images; the succession of so many different passions and
+feelings; and the matchless perspicuity of its diction. No particle of
+it can be wished away, but the epigrammatic turn of the four concluding
+lines."</p>
+
+<p>Hallam says: "This ode has a few lines mingled with a far greater number
+ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit
+which Dryden hardly ever wanted, but it is too faulty for high praise.
+It used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the
+language. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level
+of a common drinking song. It has the defects as well as the merits of
+that poetry which is written for musical accompaniment."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>[<a href="./images/169.png">169</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE FIRE OF LONDON.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "ANNUS MIRABILIS."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_1" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thence did soon to open streets aspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And straight to palaces and temples spread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And luxury, more late, asleep were laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All was the Night's, and in her silent reign<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No sound the rest of Nature did invade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_2" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And first few scattering sparks about were blown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then in some close-pent room it crept along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too great for prison which he breaks with gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dares the world to tax him with the old,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And makes small outlets into open air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There the fierce winds his tender force assail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And beat him downward to his first repair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>[<a href="./images/170.png">170</a>]</span><span class="i0">The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His flames from burning but to blow them more:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, every fresh attempt, he is repell'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With faint denials, weaker than before.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, no longer letted<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_3" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_3" class="marker">3</a> of his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He leaps up at it with enraged desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And nods at every house his threatening fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_4" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_4" class="marker">4</a> descend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About the fire into a dance they bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the palace of our slumbering King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And drooping oft look'd back upon the wing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long it was ere he the rest could raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For helpless infants left amidst the fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now murmuring noises rise in every street;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more remote run stumbling with their fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in the dark men justle as they meet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a>[<a href="./images/171.png">171</a>]</span><span class="i0">So weary bees in little cells repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An humming through their waxen city grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And out upon each other's wings they drive.<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_5" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And forward with a wanton fury went.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A key<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_6" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_6" class="marker">6</a> of fire ran all along the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waken'd tides began again to roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But fear'd the fate of Simois<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_7" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_7" class="marker">7</a> would return;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shrank his waters back into his urn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fire meantime walks in a broader gross;<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_8" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To either hand his wings he opens wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plays his longing flames on the other side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now with long necks from side to side they feed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a new colony of flames succeed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>[<a href="./images/172.png">172</a>]</span><span class="i0">To every nobler portion of the town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The curling billows roll their restless tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In parties now they straggle up and down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As armies unopposed for prey divide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One mighty squadron, with a sidewind sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By powerful charms of gold and silver led<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Another backward to the Tower would go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And slowly eats his way against the wind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the main body of the marching foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against the imperial palace is design'd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now day appears; and with the day the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With gloomy pillars cover all the place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose little intervals of night are broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By sparks that drive against his sacred face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">More than his guards his sorrows made him known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wretched in his grief forgot their own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So much the pity of a king has power.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He wept the flames of what he lov'd so well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And what so well had merited his love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For never prince in grace did more excel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or royal city more in duty strove.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>[<a href="./images/173.png">173</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This selection from Dryden's long and very tedious poem, "Annus
+Mirabilis, the year of Wonders, 1666," is given here as a specimen of
+that kind of mechanical versification so popular in the latter half of
+the seventeenth century. "That part of my poem which describes the
+Fire," says Dryden, "I owe first to the piety and fatherly affection of
+our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the
+courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both of which were so
+conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve.
+And I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in
+alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of
+greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in
+use amongst us." This opinion, however, was certainly not long
+maintained by the poet, for he never afterward practised that form of
+versification which he has here praised.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_1" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_1">1.</a> <b>this prodigious fire.</b> A half sheet published immediately after the
+Great Fire contains this account of the catastrophe which Dryden
+describes in his verses:</p>
+
+<p>"On Sunday, the second of September, this present year 1666, about one
+o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in
+<i>Pudding-lane</i> near <i>New Fish-street</i>; which, falling out in a part of
+the city so close built with wooden houses .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. in a short time became
+too big to be mastered by any engines or working near it.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. It
+continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it consumed
+houses and churches all the way to <i>St. Dunstan's Church</i>, in
+<i>Fleet-street</i>; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened;
+and that night, by the vigilancy, industry, and indefatigable pains of
+his Majesty and his Royal Highness, calling upon all people, and
+encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the
+fire in Fleet-street, etc. But on Wednesday night it suddenly broke out
+afresh in the <i>Inner Temple</i>. His Royal Highness in person fortunately
+watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and
+seasonable commands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said
+buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_2" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_2">2.</a> <b>source unknown.</b> "It was ascribed by the rage of the people either to
+the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription
+on the monument, intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion, was
+erased by James II., but restored at the Revolution."&mdash;<i>Warton.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_3" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_3">3.</a> <b>letted.</b> Hindered. This use of the word <i>let</i> is now obsolete, except
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a>[<a href="./images/174.png">174</a>]</span>in the phrase, "Without let or hindrance." It was frequently employed
+by the older writers.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What lets but one may enter?"&mdash;<i>Shakespeare.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_4" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_4">4.</a> <b>the Bridge.</b> The heads of traitors were displayed on London Bridge.
+"How inferior is this passage," says Dr. Dodd, "to Milton's animated
+description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however,
+seems to have here had in mind." See "Ode on the Nativity," stanza
+xxiii.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_5" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_5">5.</a> The simile in this stanza was doubtless intended to be very
+effective.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_6" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_6">6.</a> <b>key.</b> Quay. A bank, or ledge.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_7" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_7">7.</a> <b>Simois.</b> See Homer's "Iliad," Bk. XXI.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_8" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_8">8.</a> <b>gross.</b> Bulk.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>REASON AND RELIGION.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "RELIGIO LAICI."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Reason to the soul: and as on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those rolling fires discover but the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But guide us upward to a better day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as those nightly tapers disappear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some few whose light shone brighter, have been led<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From cause to cause, to nature's secret head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found that one first principle must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what, or who, that Universal <span class="smcap">He</span>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether some soul incompassing this ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmade, unmov'd, yet making, moving all,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>[<a href="./images/175.png">175</a>]</span><span class="i0">Or various atoms' interfering dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or this great All was from eternity&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not even the Stagirite himself could see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As blindly groped they for a future state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As rashly judged of providence and fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this wild maze their vain endeavors end:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How can the less the greater comprehend?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or finite Reason reach Infinity?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what could fathom God were more than He.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Dryden</span> was born on the 9th of August, 1631, at Aldwincle All
+Saints, near Oundle in Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster
+School, under the famous Dr. Busby, and at Trinity College, Cambridge.
+At the age of twenty-six he went up to London with the intention of
+devoting himself to literature and politics. During the brief remaining
+years of the Commonwealth (1657-1660) he was nominally a friend to the
+Puritan party; and one of the first poems written by him was a series of
+"Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell." At the Restoration he
+at once espoused the cause of the Royalists; and his recent panegyric on
+the Protector did not prevent him from writing a poem, "Astr&aelig;a Redux,"
+in honor of the return of Charles the Second. In 1663 he married the
+Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, a Royalist
+nobleman. For several years he devoted himself chiefly to the writing of
+plays,&mdash;comedies, tragedies, and tragi-comedies. The comedies he wrote
+in prose; the earliest tragedies in blank verse, followed by several in
+rhyme, and, after these, others in blank verse. In 1670 he was appointed
+Poet-Laureate. In 1681, when nearly fifty years old, by the publication
+of "Absalom and Achitophel," he suddenly became famous as a satirical
+poet. He soon afterwards wrote "The Medal," another satire, directed
+against the Earl of Shaftesbury, and "Mac Flecknoe," aimed at Shadwell,
+the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a>[<a href="./images/176.png">176</a>]</span>chief poet of the Opposition. At about the same time he produced
+"Religio Laici," a didactic poem explaining his religious opinions and
+defending the Church of England against dissenters, atheists, and
+Catholics. Not long after the accession of James II., Dryden, true to
+his policy of being always on the side of the ruling party, became a
+Catholic, and wrote "The Hind and the Panther," in which he eulogized
+many things that, in the former poem, he had ridiculed. His political
+career ended with the overthrow of James II., in 1688; but his literary
+activity continued unabated. The last years of his life were occupied in
+translating the works of Persius and Juvenal and the &AElig;neid of Virgil. In
+1697 he wrote "Alexander's Feast"; and his "modernizations" of some of
+Chaucer's poems appeared in 1700, the year of his death.</p>
+
+<p>"If there is grandeur in the pomp of kings and the march of hosts," says
+A. W. Ward, "in the 'trumpet's loud clangor' and in tapestries and
+carpetings of velvet and gold, Dryden is to be ranked with the grandest
+of English poets. The irresistible impetus of an invective which never
+falls short or flat, and the savor of a satire which never seems dull or
+stale, give him an undisputed place among the most glorious of English
+wits."</p>
+
+<p>"His descriptive power was of the highest," says Hales. "Our literature
+has in it no more vigorous portrait-gallery than that he has bequeathed
+it. His power of expression is beyond praise. There is always a singular
+<i>fitness</i> in his language: he uses always the right word. He is one of
+our greatest masters of metre: metre was, in fact, no restraint to him,
+but rather it seems to have given him freedom. It has been observed that
+he argues better in verse than in prose; verse was the natural costume
+of his thoughts."</p>
+
+<p>Professor Masson says: "Not only is Dryden the largest figure in one era
+of our literature: he is a very considerable figure also in our
+literature as a whole. Of all that he wrote, however, there is but a
+comparatively small portion that has won for itself a permanent place in
+our literature."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Absalom and Achitophel; Mac Flecknoe; Religio
+Laici; Threnodia Augustalis.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>;
+Lowell's <i>Among My Books</i>; Macaulay's <i>Essay on John Dryden</i>; Taine's
+<i>English Literature</i>; Masson's <i>Three Devils and Other Essays</i>;
+Thackeray's <i>English Humorists</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a>[<a href="./images/177.png">177</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Milton.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the month, and this the happy morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wedded Maid and Virgin mother born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great redemption from above did bring:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For so the holy Sages once did sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he our deadly forfeit should release,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_1" id="marker_On_the_Morning_1"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The glorious form, that light unsufferable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith he wont<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_2" id="marker_On_the_Morning_2"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_2" class="marker">2</a> at Heav'ns high council-table<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He laid aside; and, here with us to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forsook the courts of everlasting day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_3" id="marker_On_the_Morning_3"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Afford a present to the Infant God?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To welcome him to this his new abode<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>[<a href="./images/178.png">178</a>]</span><span class="i0">Now while the Heav'n by the suns team untrod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hath took no print of the approaching light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">See how from far upon the eastern rode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The star-led Wisards<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_4" id="marker_On_the_Morning_4"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_4" class="marker">4</a> haste with odours sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O run, prevent<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_5" id="marker_On_the_Morning_5"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_5" class="marker">5</a> them with thy humble ode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And join thy voice unto the angel quire,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_6" id="marker_On_the_Morning_6"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From out his secret altar toucht with hallow'd fire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 30%;" />
+<h3>THE HYMN.</h3>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">It was the winter wilde<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the Heav'n-born childe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nature in aw of him<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had doff't her gaudy trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her great Master so to sympathize:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It was no season then for her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To wanton with the sun her lusty paramour.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_7" id="marker_On_the_Morning_7"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Onely with speeches fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She woo's the gentle air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And on her naked shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pollute with sinfull blame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The saintly veil of maiden<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_8" id="marker_On_the_Morning_8"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_8" class="marker">8</a> white to throw:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>[<a href="./images/179.png">179</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Confounded that her Makers eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should look so near upon her foul deformities.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But he, her fears to cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sent down the meek-eyed Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down through the turning sphear,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_9" id="marker_On_the_Morning_9"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His ready harbinger,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_10" id="marker_On_the_Morning_10"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With turtle<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_11" id="marker_On_the_Morning_11"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_11" class="marker">11</a> wing the amorous clouds dividing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, waving wide her mirtle wand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She strikes a universall peace<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_12" id="marker_On_the_Morning_12"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_12" class="marker">12</a> through sea and land.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">No war, or battails sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was heard the world around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The hooked chariot<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_13" id="marker_On_the_Morning_13"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_13" class="marker">13</a> stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unstain'd with hostile blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And kings sate still with awfull eye,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_14" id="marker_On_the_Morning_14"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But peacefull was the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wherein the Prince of Light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His raign of peace upon the earth began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The windes, with wonder whist,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_15" id="marker_On_the_Morning_15"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Smoothly the waters kist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispering new joyes to the milde ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>[<a href="./images/180.png">180</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The stars, with deep amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending one way their precious influence,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_16" id="marker_On_the_Morning_16"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And will not take their flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_17" id="marker_On_the_Morning_17"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_17" class="marker">17</a> all the morning light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Lucifer<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_18" id="marker_On_the_Morning_18"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_18" class="marker">18</a> that often warn'd them thence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But in their glimmering orbs did glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And, though the shady Gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had given day her room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hid his head for shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As his inferiour flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The new-enlightn'd world no more should need;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He saw a greater sun appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_19" id="marker_On_the_Morning_19"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_19" class="marker">19</a> could bear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The shepherds on the lawn<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_20" id="marker_On_the_Morning_20"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_20" class="marker">20</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or ere<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_21" id="marker_On_the_Morning_21"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_21" class="marker">21</a> the point of dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Full little thought they than<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the mighty Pan<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_22" id="marker_On_the_Morning_22"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was kindly com to live with them below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was all that did their silly<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_23" id="marker_On_the_Morning_23"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_23" class="marker">23</a> thoughts so busie keep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>[<a href="./images/181.png">181</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>IX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">When such musick sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their hearts and ears did greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As never was by mortall finger strook,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_24" id="marker_On_the_Morning_24"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Divinely warbled voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Answering the stringed noise<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_25" id="marker_On_the_Morning_25"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As all their souls in blissfull rapture took;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The air, such pleasure loth to lose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_26" id="marker_On_the_Morning_26"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>X.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nature that heard such sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beneath the hollow round<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_27" id="marker_On_the_Morning_27"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_27" class="marker">27</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now was almost won<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To think her part was don,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that her raign had here its<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_28" id="marker_On_the_Morning_28"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_28" class="marker">28</a> last fulfilling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She knew such harmony alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">At last surrounds their sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A globe of circular light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That with long beams the shame-fac't Night array'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The helmed Cherubim,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_29" id="marker_On_the_Morning_29"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_29" class="marker">29</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sworded Seraphim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Harping in loud and solemn quire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With unexpressive<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_30" id="marker_On_the_Morning_30"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_30" class="marker">30</a> notes to Heav'n's new-born Heir.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>[<a href="./images/182.png">182</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Such musick (as 'tis said)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before was never made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when of old the sons of Morning sung,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_31" id="marker_On_the_Morning_31"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the Creator great<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His constellation set,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the well-ballanc't world on hinges<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_32" id="marker_On_the_Morning_32"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_32" class="marker">32</a> hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And cast the dark foundations deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bid the weltring<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_33" id="marker_On_the_Morning_33"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_33" class="marker">33</a> waves their oozy channel keep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Ring out, ye crystall sphears;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_34" id="marker_On_the_Morning_34"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Once bless our humane ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(If ye have power to touch our senses so),<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And let your silver chime<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Move in melodious time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the base of Heav'ns deep organ blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with your ninefold harmony<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make up full consort<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_35" id="marker_On_the_Morning_35"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_35" class="marker">35</a> to th' angelike symphony.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">For, if such holy song<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enwrap our fancy long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time will run back and fetch the age of Gold;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_36" id="marker_On_the_Morning_36"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_36" class="marker">36</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And speckl'd Vanity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will sicken soon and die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_37" id="marker_On_the_Morning_37"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_37" class="marker">37</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Hell itself will pass away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><a name="end_stanza_14" id="end_stanza_14"></a>And leave her<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_38" id="marker_On_the_Morning_38"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_38" class="marker">38</a> dolorous mansions to the peering day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>[<a href="./images/183.png">183</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Yea, Truth and Justice then<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will down return to men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mercy will set between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thron'd in celestiall sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Heav'n, as at som festivall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_39" id="marker_On_the_Morning_39"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_39" class="marker">39</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XVI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But wisest Fate sayes no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This must not yet be so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That on the bitter cross<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_40" id="marker_On_the_Morning_40"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_40" class="marker">40</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must redeem our loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So both himself and us to glorifie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet first to those ychain'd<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_41" id="marker_On_the_Morning_41"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_41" class="marker">41</a> in sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wakefull trump<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_42" id="marker_On_the_Morning_42"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_42" class="marker">42</a> of doom must thunder through the deep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XVII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">With such a horrid clang<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As on Mount Sinai rang,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_43" id="marker_On_the_Morning_43"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_43" class="marker">43</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The aged Earth, agast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With terrour of that blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall from the surface to the center shake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When at the worlds last session<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_44" id="marker_On_the_Morning_44"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_44" class="marker">44</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The dreadfull Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>[<a href="./images/184.png">184</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XVIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And then at last our bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Full and perfect is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now begins; for from this happy day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Th' old Dragon<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_45" id="marker_On_the_Morning_45"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_45" class="marker">45</a> under ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In straiter limits bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not half so far casts his usurped sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swindges<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_46" id="marker_On_the_Morning_46"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_46" class="marker">46</a> the scaly horrour of his foulded tail.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The oracles are dumm;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_47" id="marker_On_the_Morning_47"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_47" class="marker">47</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No voice or hideous humm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Apollo from his shrine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can no more divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_48" id="marker_On_the_Morning_48"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_48" class="marker">48</a> leaving.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No nightly trance, or breathed spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inspires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The lonely mountains o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the resounding shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voice of weeping<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_49" id="marker_On_the_Morning_49"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_49" class="marker">49</a> heard and loud lament;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From haunted spring and dale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Edged with poplar pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parting<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_50" id="marker_On_the_Morning_50"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_50" class="marker">50</a> Genius is with sighing sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With floure-inwov'n tresses torn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>[<a href="./images/185.png">185</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">In consecrated earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And on the holy hearth<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_51" id="marker_On_the_Morning_51"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_51" class="marker">51</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In urns and altars round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A drear and dying sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affrights the Flamins<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_52" id="marker_On_the_Morning_52"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_52" class="marker">52</a> at their service quaint<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the chill marble seems to sweat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While each peculiar power forgoes<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_53" id="marker_On_the_Morning_53"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_53" class="marker">53</a> his wonted seat.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Peor and Ba&auml;lim<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_54" id="marker_On_the_Morning_54"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_54" class="marker">54</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Forsake their temples dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that twise batter'd god<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_55" id="marker_On_the_Morning_55"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_55" class="marker">55</a> of Palestine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And mooned Ashtaroth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heav'ns queen and mother both,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_56" id="marker_On_the_Morning_56"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_56" class="marker">56</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And sullen Moloch, fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath left in shadows dred<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_57" id="marker_On_the_Morning_57"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_57" class="marker">57</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His burning idol all of blackest hue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain with cymbals ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They call the grisly<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_58" id="marker_On_the_Morning_58"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_58" class="marker">58</a> King<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dismall dance about the furnace blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The brutish<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_59" id="marker_On_the_Morning_59"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_59" class="marker">59</a> gods of Nile as fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis last.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>[<a href="./images/186.png">186</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXIV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nor is Osiris seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Memphian grove or green<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trampling the unshowr'd grass<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_60" id="marker_On_the_Morning_60"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_60" class="marker">60</a> with lowings loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor can he be at rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within his sacred chest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He feels from Judas land<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The dredded Infants hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_61" id="marker_On_the_Morning_61"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_61" class="marker">61</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor all the gods beside<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Longer dare abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can in his swaddling bands controul the damned crew.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXVI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So, when the Sun in bed,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_62" id="marker_On_the_Morning_62"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_62" class="marker">62</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Curtain'd with cloudy red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flocking shadows pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Troop to th' infernal jail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each fetter'd ghost slips to his severall grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the yellow-skirted Fayes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>[<a href="./images/187.png">187</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXVII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But see the Virgin blest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath laid her Babe to rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time is our tedious song should here have ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heav'ns youngest teemed<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_63" id="marker_On_the_Morning_63"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_63" class="marker">63</a> star<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath fixt her polish'd car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all about the courtly stable<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_64" id="marker_On_the_Morning_64"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_64" class="marker">64</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was begun by Milton on Christmas day, 1629. He had then just
+completed his twenty-first year, and was still an undergraduate at
+Christ's College, Cambridge. From certain fragments and other evidence,
+it is believed that he contemplated writing a series of poems on great
+Christian events in a similar way. This is the first poem of importance
+which he wrote. Hallam speaks of it as perhaps the finest lyric of its
+kind in the English language. "A grandeur, a simplicity, a breadth of
+manner, an imagination at once elevated and restrained by the subject,
+reign throughout it. If Pindar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be
+hard to name any other ode so truly Pindaric; but more has naturally
+been derived from the Scriptures."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_1" id="Note_On_the_Morning_1"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_1">1.</a> <b>our deadly forfeit should release.</b> Should remit the penalty of death
+pronounced against us. Shakespeare has a similar use of the word
+"forfeit."</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Remit thy other forfeits."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Measure for Measure</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_2" id="Note_On_the_Morning_2"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_2">2.</a> <b>wont.</b> The past tense of the A.-S. verb <i>wunian</i>, to persist, to
+continue, to be accustomed. Now used only in connection with some form
+of the auxiliary verb <i>be</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_3" id="Note_On_the_Morning_3"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_3">3.</a> Explain the meaning of each word in this line, and of the whole line.
+The next two stanzas comprise an invocation to the Muse of Poetry. See
+note 1, page <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>[<a href="./images/188.png">188</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_4" id="Note_On_the_Morning_4"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_4">4.</a> <b>Wisards.</b> Wizards. Wise men. The word was originally used in this
+sense, and not with the depreciatory meaning of "magician," as at
+present. Spenser says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Therefore the antique wizards well invented<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That Venus of the fomy sea was bred,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>meaning by "antique wizards" ancient philosophers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_5" id="Note_On_the_Morning_5"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_5">5.</a> <b>prevent.</b> Go before; the original meaning of the word, from Lat.
+<i>pr&aelig;</i>, before, and <i>venio</i>, to go or come.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"I prevented the dawning of the morning."&mdash;<i>Psalm</i> cxix. 147.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning, for I will prevent the sun
+rising."&mdash;<i>Izaak Walton</i>, <i>Compleat Angler</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_6" id="Note_On_the_Morning_6"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_6">6.</a> <b>angel quire.</b> "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
+the heavenly host praising God."&mdash;<i>Luke</i> ii, 13.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_7" id="Note_On_the_Morning_7"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_7">7.</a> <b>paramour.</b> See note 9, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_8" id="Note_On_the_Morning_8"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_8">8.</a> <b>maiden.</b> Pure, innocent, unpolluted. Compare</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When I am dead, strew me o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With maiden flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Henry VIII</i>, Act iv, sc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_9" id="Note_On_the_Morning_9"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_9">9.</a> <b>turning sphear.</b> The Ptolemaic system of astronomy taught that the
+earth was the centre of the universe, and that all the heavenly bodies
+revolved about it, being fixed in a complicated framework, or series of
+hollow crystalline spheres moving one within the other. The "turning
+sphear" is here this entire system of revolving spheres. See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>,
+below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_10" id="Note_On_the_Morning_10"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_10">10.</a> <b>harbinger.</b> One who provides a resting-place for a superior person.
+It was the duty of the king's harbinger, when the court removed from one
+place to another, to provide lodgings for the king's retinue. Derived
+from <i>harbor</i>, <i>harborage</i>. The word "harbor" is from A.-S. <i>here</i>,
+army, and <i>beorg</i>, a refuge. Others derive the word from <i>har</i>, a
+message, and <i>bringer</i>&mdash;hence, one who brings a message, a herald.</p>
+
+<p>Parkes's <i>Topography of Hampstead</i>, 1818, contains the following:</p>
+
+<p>"The office of harbinger still exists in the Royal Household, the
+nominal duty of the officer being to ride one stage onward before the
+king on his progress, to provide lodging and provision for the court."</p>
+
+<p>The last knight-harbinger was Sir Henry Rycroft (appointed in 1816, died
+October, 1846, aged eighty). The office became extinct at his death.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_11" id="Note_On_the_Morning_11"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_11">11.</a> <b>turtle.</b> Commonly <i>turtle-dove</i>. For history of the word as now
+applied to the tortoise, see Worcester's Dictionary.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_12" id="Note_On_the_Morning_12"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_12">12.</a> <b>universall peace.</b> About the time of the birth of Christ there <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>[<a href="./images/189.png">189</a>]</span>was
+peace throughout the Roman Empire, and the temple of Janus was shut.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_13" id="Note_On_the_Morning_13"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_13">13.</a> <b>hooked chariot.</b> The war-chariot armed with scythes, a Celtic
+invention adopted by the Romans.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_14" id="Note_On_the_Morning_14"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_14">14.</a> <b>awfull eye.</b> We would say, "awe-filled eyes."</p>
+
+<p><b>sovran.</b> Old French <i>souverain</i>. Some derive it from Lat. <i>supra</i>, above,
+and <i>regno</i>, to reign.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_15" id="Note_On_the_Morning_15"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_15">15.</a> <b>whist.</b> Hushed. This word, now used as a sort of interjection
+commanding silence, seems to have had in earlier English more of a
+verbal meaning, as Spenser in "The Faerie Queene," VII, vii, 59:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So was the Titaness put downe and whist."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It also meant <i>to keep silent</i>, as in Surrey's "Virgil":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They whisted all, with fixed face intent."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A game of cards in which the players are supposed to keep silent is
+called whist.</p>
+
+<p><b>birds of calm.</b> Halcyons. See note 1, page <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_16" id="Note_On_the_Morning_16"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_16">16.</a> <b>influence.</b> From Lat. <i>in</i>, into, and <i>fluo</i>, to flow. This word,
+until a comparatively modern date, was always used with respect to the
+supposed mysterious rays or aspects flowing from the stars to the earth,
+and thus having a strange power over the fortunes of men. "Canst thou
+bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades?"&mdash;<i>Job</i> xxviii. 31.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Happy constellations on that hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shed their selectest influences."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, VIII, 512.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_17" id="Note_On_the_Morning_17"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_17">17.</a> <b>For.</b> Notwithstanding.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_18" id="Note_On_the_Morning_18"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_18">18.</a> <b>Lucifer.</b> The morning star. The idea of Lucifer appearing to warn the
+stars of the approach of the sun is a happy figure. See note 7, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_19" id="Note_On_the_Morning_19"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_19">19.</a> <b>axle-tree.</b> Axis. <i>Tree</i> in O. E. is used to signify beam. We still
+have <i>single-tree</i>, <i>double-tree</i>, <i>whiffle-tree</i>, etc. Compare "Comus,"
+95:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The gilded car of day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His glowing axle doth allay."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_20" id="Note_On_the_Morning_20"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_20">20.</a> <b>lawn.</b> Used in its original sense of a pasture, or open, grassy
+space. Formerly <i>laund</i>. Similarly we have <i>lane</i>, an open passage
+between houses or fields.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_21" id="Note_On_the_Morning_21"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_21">21.</a> <b>Or ere.</b> <i>Or</i> is here used in its old sense, meaning <i>before</i>, from
+A.-S. <i>&aelig;r</i>. <i>Ere</i> = e'er, ever. Compare Ecclesiastes xii. 6: "Or ever
+the silver cord be loosed." Also "King Lear," Act ii, sc. 4:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"But this heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ere I'll weep."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>[<a href="./images/190.png">190</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_22" id="Note_On_the_Morning_22"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_22">22.</a> <b>Pan.</b> See note, page <a href="#Page_73">72</a>. The application of the name <i>Pan</i> to Christ
+is evidently derived from Spenser. See "Shepheards Calendar," July:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And such, I ween, the brethren were<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">That came from Cana&auml;n,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The flocks of mightie Pan."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In the Glosse to the Calendar for May it is said that "Great Pan is
+Christ, the very God of all shepheards, which calleth himselfe the great
+and good shepheard. The name is most rightly (methinks) applied to him;
+for Pan signifieth all, or omnipotent, which is only the Lord Iesus. And
+by that name (as I remember) he is called of Eusebius in his fifth
+booke, <i>De Preparat. Evange.</i>"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_23" id="Note_On_the_Morning_23"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_23">23.</a> <b>silly.</b> From A.-S. <i>saelig</i>, blessed, happy. Spenser uses the word in
+the sense of innocent, as in "Faerie Queene," III, viii, 27:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The silly virgin strove him to withstand."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Chaucer, in the "Reves Tale," uses it in the more modern sense of
+simple, or foolish:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"These sely clerkes han ful fast yronne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But in the "Legend of Good Women" it has another meaning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O sely woman, full of innocence."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The meaning of this word has completely changed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_24" id="Note_On_the_Morning_24"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_24">24.</a> <b>strook.</b> Caused to sound as on a stringed instrument. Compare Dryden
+in "Alexander's Feast":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now strike the golden lyre again."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_25" id="Note_On_the_Morning_25"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_25">25.</a> <b>noise.</b> A company of musicians under a leader. Used in this sense by
+both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_26" id="Note_On_the_Morning_26"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_26">26.</a> <b>close.</b> Cadence. See Dryden, "Fables":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At every <i>close</i> she made, th' attending throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Replied, and bore the burden of the song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_27" id="Note_On_the_Morning_27"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_27">27.</a> <b>hollow round.</b> The sphere in which the moon has its motion. See notes
+<a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_9">9</a> and <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Cynthia.</b> The moon. In the ancient mythology applied to Artemis, from
+Mount Cynthus in the island of Delos, her birthplace.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_28" id="Note_On_the_Morning_28"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_28">28.</a> <b>its.</b> In all his poetry, Milton uses this word only three times. The
+other examples are in "Paradise Lost," I, 254, and IV, 814. This
+possessive form of the pronoun it was never used until the time of
+Shakespeare, who employs it five times in "A Winter's Tale," and once in
+"Measure for Measure"; it does not occur anywhere in the authorized
+version of the Bible.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>[<a href="./images/191.png">191</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_29" id="Note_On_the_Morning_29"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_29">29.</a> Why are the Cherubim "helmed," while the Seraphim are "sworded"?
+Addison says, "Some of the rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set
+of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love
+most." Observe that the plural of cherub or of seraph may be formed in
+three ways: viz. cherubs, cherubim, cherubims; seraphs, seraphim,
+seraphims.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_30" id="Note_On_the_Morning_30"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_30">30.</a> <b>unexpressive.</b> Inexpressible. See Shakespeare, "As You Like It":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also Milton, "Lycidas," 176:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_31" id="Note_On_the_Morning_31"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_31">31.</a> <b>the sons of Morning sung.</b> See Job xxxviii. 4-7, the oldest reference
+to the "music of the spheres." See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>, below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_32" id="Note_On_the_Morning_32"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_32">32.</a> <b>hinges.</b> Literally, a hinge is anything for hanging something upon.
+From A.-S. <i>hangian</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_33" id="Note_On_the_Morning_33"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_33">33.</a> <b>weltring.</b> Rolling, wallowing. See "Lycidas," 13.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_34" id="Note_On_the_Morning_34"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_34">34.</a> <b>Ring out.</b> An allusion to the music of the spheres. See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_27">27</a>,
+above. The theory of Pythagoras was that the distances between the
+heavenly bodies were determined by the laws of musical concord. "These
+orbs in their motion could not but produce a certain sound or note,
+depending upon their distances and velocities; and as these were
+regulated by harmonic laws, they necessarily formed as a whole a
+complete musical scale." "In the whorl of the distaff of necessity there
+are eight concentric whorls. These whorls represent respectively the sun
+and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars. On each whorl sits a
+siren singing. Their eight tones make one exquisite harmony." Milton
+added a ninth whorl,&mdash;"that swift nocturnal and diurnal rhomb,"&mdash;and
+then spoke of the "ninefold harmony," as just below. This was a favorite
+idea with the poets.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Listening the lordly music flowing from<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The illimitable years."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i>, <i>Ode to Memory</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The music of the spheres! list, my Mariana!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Pericles</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But in his motion like an angel sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">How would he wish that Heaven had left him still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The whispering zephyr and the purling rill!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Pope</i>, <i>Essay on Man</i>, I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a>[<a href="./images/192.png">192</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">"Her voice, the music of the spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So loud, it deafens mortals' ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As wise philosophers have thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And that's the cause we hear it not."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Butler's Hudibras</i>, II, i, 617.</p>
+
+<p>See, also, Montaigne, <i>Essays</i>, I, xxii; Sir Thomas Browne's <i>Religio
+Medici</i>, II, 9; Plato's <i>Republic</i>, VI; Dryden's "Ode to Mrs. Anne
+Killigrew," etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_35" id="Note_On_the_Morning_35"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_35">35.</a> <b>consort.</b> Accompaniment. This word, so written until Milton's time,
+has now given place to <i>concert</i>, whenever used as here.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_36" id="Note_On_the_Morning_36"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_36">36.</a> <b>age of Gold.</b> The fabled primeval age of universal happiness.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A blisful lyfe, a peseable, and so swete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Ledde the peplis in the former age."&mdash;<i>Chaucer.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_37" id="Note_On_the_Morning_37"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_37">37.</a> <b>mould.</b> Matter, substance. The word is used in the old Romances to
+denote the earth itself. Milton elsewhere says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_38" id="Note_On_the_Morning_38"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_38">38.</a> <b>her.</b> Observe what has already been said (note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_28">28</a>, above) about the
+pronoun <i>its</i>. <i>Hell</i>, in the Anglo-Saxon language, is feminine. But,
+just above, observe the expression <i>it self</i>. See, in the <a href="#end_stanza_14">last line</a> of
+stanza xv, the pronoun <i>her</i> with <i>heaven</i> as its antecedent. <i>Heofon</i>,
+in the Anglo-Saxon, is also feminine.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_39" id="Note_On_the_Morning_39"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_39">39.</a> This stanza is a fine example of word-painting. What idea is
+conveyed to your mind by the expressions, "orb'd in a rainbow," "like
+glories wearing," "thron'd in celestiall sheen," "the tissued clouds
+down stearing," etc.? What kind of glories will Mercy wear? Where will
+she sit? How will she be enthroned? What are <i>radiant</i> feet? Why are
+Mercy's feet radiant? Does she steer the tissued clouds "with radiant
+feet," or does she steer herself down the tissued clouds? Why will the
+opening of Heaven's high palace wall be "as at some festivall"?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_40" id="Note_On_the_Morning_40"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_40">40.</a> <b>bitter cross.</b> Compare Shakespeare, "1 Henry IV," Act i, sc. 1, 27:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">"Those blessed feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For our advantage, on the bitter cross."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_41" id="Note_On_the_Morning_41"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_41">41.</a> <b>ychain'd.</b> The <i>y</i> is a corruption of the prefix <i>ge</i>, anciently used
+in connection with the past participle, and still retained in many
+German words. Often used by Chaucer and Spenser, as in yblessed,
+yburied, ybrent, yfonden, ygeten, yclad, yfraught, etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_42" id="Note_On_the_Morning_42"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_42">42.</a> <b>trump.</b> "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
+with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead
+in Christ shall rise first."&mdash;<i>1 Thessalonians</i> iv. 16.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>[<a href="./images/193.png">193</a>]</span>
+<b>wakefull.</b> Awakening.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_43" id="Note_On_the_Morning_43"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_43">43.</a> <b>rang.</b> See Exodus xix.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_44" id="Note_On_the_Morning_44"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_44">44.</a> <b>session.</b> Assize. Both words were originally from the same root, Lat.
+<i>sedeo</i>, <i>sessum</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>spread.</b> Prepare, make ready. A similar use of the word survives in the
+idiom "to spread the table."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_45" id="Note_On_the_Morning_45"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_45">45.</a> <b>Dragon.</b> See Revelation xii. 9.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_46" id="Note_On_the_Morning_46"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_46">46.</a> <b>Swindges.</b> Swings about violently. This is the only case in which
+Milton uses this word. It is used several times by Shakespeare in the
+sense of <i>to whip</i>, <i>to scourge</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_47" id="Note_On_the_Morning_47"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_47">47.</a> <b>oracles are dumm.</b> Keightly says: "This was a frequent assertion of
+the Fathers, who ascribed to the coming of Christ what was the effect of
+time. They regarded the ancient oracles as having been the inspiration
+of the devil."</p>
+
+<p>Spenser, quoting the story which Plutarch relates in "his Booke of the
+ceasing of miracles," says, "For at that time, as hee sayth, all Oracles
+surceased, and enchaunted spirites that were woont to delude the people
+thenceforth held their peace."&mdash;<i>Glosse to Shepheards Calendar, May.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_48" id="Note_On_the_Morning_48"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_48">48.</a> <b>Delphos.</b> The medi&aelig;val form of the word <i>Delphi</i>. The temple where
+was the chief oracle of Apollo was at Delphi, built at the foot of a
+precipitous cliff two thousand feet high. This oracle was suppressed by
+the Emperor Theodosius.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_49" id="Note_On_the_Morning_49"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_49">49.</a> <b>weeping.</b> Compare Matthew ii. 19, and Jeremiah xxxi. 15.</p>
+
+<p>Spenser, in the same <i>Glosse</i>, quoted from above, says, "About the same
+time that our Lorde suffered his most bitter passion for the redemption
+of man, certaine persons sailing from Italie to Cyprus and passing by
+certaine iles called Pax&aelig;, heard a voice calling aloud Thamus, Thamus,
+(now Thamus was the name of an Egyptian which was pylote of the ship),
+who, giving ear to the crie, was bidden, when he came to Palodes to tell
+that great Pan was dead: which hee doubting to doe, yet for that when
+hee came to Palodes, there suddenly was such a calme of winde that the
+ship stoode still in the sea unmooved, he was forced to crie aloude that
+Pan was dead: wherewithall there was heard such piteous outcries, and
+dreadfull shriking as hath not beene the like."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_50" id="Note_On_the_Morning_50"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_50">50.</a> <b>parting.</b> Departing. Frequently used in Old English.</p>
+
+<p><b>Genius.</b> Spirit. See "Lycidas," 182:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_51" id="Note_On_the_Morning_51"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_51">51.</a> <b>consecrated earth&mdash;holy hearth.</b> Referring to the places specially
+haunted by the Lars and Lemures. The Lemures were the spirits of the
+dead, and were said to wander about at night, frightening the living.
+The Lares were the household gods, sometimes referred to as the spirits
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>[<a href="./images/194.png">194</a>]</span>of good men. The former frequented the graveyards; the latter, the
+hearths.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_52" id="Note_On_the_Morning_52"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_52">52.</a> <b>Flamins.</b> Priests.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_53" id="Note_On_the_Morning_53"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_53">53.</a> <b>forgoes.</b> Goes from, gives up, abandons.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_54" id="Note_On_the_Morning_54"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_54">54.</a> <b>Peor and Ba&auml;lim.</b> Compare the proper names which occur in this and
+the following stanzas with those in "Paradise Lost," I, 316-352.</p>
+
+<p><b>Peor.</b> The name of a mountain of Palestine is here used as one of the
+titles of Baal, who was worshipped there.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ba&auml;lim.</b> Plural of Baal, meaning that god in his various modifications.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ashtaroth.</b> The Syrian goddess Astarte. But her worship was identified
+rather with the planet Venus than with the moon.</p>
+
+<p><b>Hammon.</b> A Libyan deity, represented as a ram or as a man with ram's
+horns.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_55" id="Note_On_the_Morning_55"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_55">55.</a> <b>twise batter'd god.</b> Dagon. See 1 Samuel v.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_56" id="Note_On_the_Morning_56"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_56">56.</a> <b>mourn.</b> In Ph&oelig;nicia, in the ancient city of Byblos, a festival of
+two days was held every year in honor of Adonis, or Thammuz, as the
+Ph&oelig;nicians called him. The first day was observed as a day of
+mourning for the death of the god; the second, as a day of rejoicing
+because of his return to the earth. The principal participants were
+young women. The prophet Ezekiel alludes to this subject: "Then he
+brought me to the door of the gate of the Lord's house which was toward
+the north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz."&mdash;<i>Ezekiel</i>
+viii. 14.</p>
+
+<p>Milton, in "Paradise Lost," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Thammuz came next behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Syrian damsels to lament his fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In amorous ditties all a summer's day."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_57" id="Note_On_the_Morning_57"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_57">57.</a> Compare with "Paradise Lost," I, 392-405. In <i>Sandys's Travels</i>,
+published in 1615, and a popular book in Milton's time, the following
+description is given of the sacrifices made to Moloch: "Therein the
+Hebrews sacrificed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having
+the head of a calf, the rest of a kingly figure, with arms extended to
+receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death with his burning
+embracements. For the idol was hollow within and filled with fire."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_58" id="Note_On_the_Morning_58"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_58">58.</a> <b>grisly.</b> Frightful, hideous. Probably from A.-S. <i>agrisan</i>, to dread.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_59" id="Note_On_the_Morning_59"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_59">59.</a> <b>brutish.</b> Shaped like a brute; animal.</p>
+
+<p><b>Isis.</b> The Egyptian earth-goddess, afterwards worshipped as the goddess
+of the moon.</p>
+
+<p><b>Orus.</b> The Egyptian god of the sun.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>[<a href="./images/195.png">195</a>]</span>
+the dog <b>Anubis</b>. Juvenal says, "Whole towns worship the dog."&mdash;<i>Sat.</i>,
+XV, 8.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_60" id="Note_On_the_Morning_60"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_60">60.</a> <b>unshowr'd.</b> A reference to the general, though erroneous, idea that
+it does not rain in Egypt.</p>
+
+<p><b>Osiris</b>, or Apis, one of the chief gods of the Egyptians, was represented
+by a bull.</p>
+
+<p><b>sacred chest</b> = <b>worshipt ark</b>, below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_61" id="Note_On_the_Morning_61"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_61">61.</a> <b>eyn.</b> The old plural form of eyes. This form of the plural survives
+in <i>oxen</i>, <i>children</i>, <i>brethren</i>, <i>kine</i>, <i>swine</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Typhon.</b> A monster among the gods, variously described by the poets. He
+was a terror to all the other deities.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_62" id="Note_On_the_Morning_62"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_62">62.</a> <b>in bed.</b> The sun has not yet risen.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_63" id="Note_On_the_Morning_63"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_63">63.</a> <b>youngest teemed.</b> Referring to the Star of Bethlehem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_64" id="Note_On_the_Morning_64"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_64">64.</a> Compare Milton's "Sonnet on his Blindness":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They also serve who only stand and wait."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Milton</span> was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London, in the year
+1608, eight years before the death of Shakespeare. From his boyhood he
+showed the possession of more than ordinary powers of mind. He was
+educated first under private tutors, and at St. Paul's School, and
+finally at Christ's College, Cambridge, where in 1632 he received the
+degree of "Master of Arts." His first considerable work was the "Hymn on
+the Morning of the Nativity," written in 1629. Within the next seven
+years he wrote the most noteworthy of his shorter poems: the masque,
+"Comus"; the pastoral piece entitled "Arcades"; the beautiful
+descriptive poems, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso"; and the elegy,
+"Lycidas." In 1639 he made a tour upon the Continent, visited the famous
+seats of learning in France and Italy, and made the acquaintance of many
+of the great poets and scholars of his time. Upon hearing, however, that
+civil war was about to break out in England, he hastened home, resolved
+to devote himself to what he regarded as his country's best interests.
+Poetry was abandoned for politics, and for the next twenty years he
+wrote little except prose&mdash;political tracts and controversial essays.
+When Cromwell became Lord Protector of England, Milton was appointed
+Latin Secretary of State, a position <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>[<a href="./images/196.png">196</a>]</span>which he continued to hold until
+towards the downfall of the Commonwealth. But after the Restoration he
+quietly withdrew into retirement, resolved to devote the remainder of
+his life to the writing of the great poem which he had been
+contemplating for many years. Through unceasing study he had lost his
+sight; the friends of his youth had deserted him; the fortune which he
+had received from his father was gone. And so it was in darkness, and
+disappointment, and poverty, that in 1667 he gave to the world the great
+English epic, "Paradise Lost." It was in that same year that Dryden
+published his "Annus Mirabilis." Milton shortly afterward wrote
+"Paradise Regained"; and, in 1671, he produced "Samson Agonistes," a
+tragedy modelled after the masterpieces of the Greek drama. On the 8th
+of November, 1674, at the age of sixty-six years, his strangely eventful
+life came to a close.</p>
+
+
+<h3>WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">England hath need of thee; she is a fen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have forfeited their ancient English dower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! raise us up, return to us again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So didst thou travel on life's common way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lowliest duties on herself did lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas;
+selections from Paradise Lost.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Masson's <i>Life and Times of John Milton</i>; <i>Milton</i>
+(Classical Writers), by Stopford Brooke; <i>Milton</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Mark Pattison; Macaulay's Essay on <i>Milton</i>; De Quincey,
+<i>Milton vs. Southey and Landor</i>; Coleridge's <i>Literary Remains</i>;
+Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>[<a href="./images/197.png">197</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Robert Herrick.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO PHILLIS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Live, live with me, and thou shalt see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sweets the country can afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With crawling woodbine over-spread:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By which the silver-shedding streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall gently melt thee into dreams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy clothing next, shall be a gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made of the fleeces' purest down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tongue of kids shall be thy meat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The paste of filberts for thy bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With cream of cowslips butter&egrave;d:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy feasting-table shall be hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With daisies spread, and daffadils;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For meat, shall give thee melody.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll give thee chains and carcanets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of primroses and violets.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A bag and bottle thou shalt have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That richly wrought, and this as brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that as either shall express<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wearer's no mean shepherdess.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a>[<a href="./images/198.png">198</a>]</span><span class="i0">At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Themilis his pastime makes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There thou shalt be; and be the wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On holydays, when virgins meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dance the heys with nimble feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt come forth, and then appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Queen of Roses for that year.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having danced ('bove all the best)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carry the garland from the rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In wicker-baskets maids shall bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee, my dearest shepherdling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blushing apple, bashful pear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The name of Phillis in the rind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee a sheep-hook I will send,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be-prank'd with ribbons, to this end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This, this alluring hook might be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Less for to catch a sheep, than me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not made of ale, but spic&egrave;d wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make thy maids and self free mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of winning colors that shall move<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others to lust, but me to love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thou wilt love, and live with me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>[<a href="./images/199.png">199</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE MAD MAID'S SONG.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good morrow to the day so fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good morning, sir, to you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good morrow to mine own torn hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bedabbled with the dew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good morning to this primrose too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good morrow to each maid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That will with flowers the tomb bestrew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherein my Love is laid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alack and well-a-day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For pity, sir, find out that bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which bore my Love away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll seek him in your eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, now I think they've made his grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I' th' bed of strawberries.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cold, cold earth doth shake him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I will go, or send a kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By you, sir, to awake him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He knows well who do love him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who with green turfs rear his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And who do rudely move him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>[<a href="./images/200.png">200</a>]</span><span class="i0">He's soft and tender, pray take heed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bands of cowslips bind him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring him home;&mdash;but 'tis decreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I shall never find him.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A THANKSGIVING TO GOD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lord, thou hast given me a cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wherein to dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little house, whose humble roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is weather proof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the spars of which I lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Both soft and dry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou, my chamber for to ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hast set a guard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me, while I sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low is my porch, as is my fate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Both void of state;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet the threshold of my door<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is worn by th' poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who thither come, and freely get<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Good words, or meat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like as my parlor, so my hall<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And kitchen's small;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little buttery, and therein<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A little bin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which keeps my little loaf of bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Unchipt, unflead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Make me a fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>[<a href="./images/201.png">201</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Close by whose living coal I sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And glow like it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, I confess too, when I dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The pulse is thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all those other bits that be<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">There placed by thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The worts, the purslain, and the mess<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of water-cress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And my content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes those, and my belov&egrave;d beet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To be more sweet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With guiltless mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Spiced to the brink.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That soils my land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Twice ten for one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Her egg each day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, my healthful ewes to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me twins each year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The while the conduits of my kine<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Run cream, for wine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All these, and better, thou dost send<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me, to this end,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I should render, for my part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A thankful heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, fired with incense, I resign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As wholly thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But the acceptance, that must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My Christ, by Thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>[<a href="./images/202.png">202</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Herrick</span> was born in Cheapside, London, August 20, 1591. He was
+educated at Cambridge, and in 1629, having taken orders, was presented
+to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire. From this living he was
+ejected by the Long Parliament in 1648, and, going up to London, he
+united himself with some of his former associates and entered upon a
+career not altogether creditable to his profession of parson. At the
+restoration of Charles II. he was returned to his vicarage, where he
+remained until his death in 1674. His best poems are included in the
+collection entitled "Hesperides, or Works Humane and Divine," published
+in 1648, and dedicated to "the most illustrious and most hopeful Prince
+Charles." The "Argument" prefixed to this collection very prettily
+describes the character of the pieces which it contains:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of Youth, of Love;&mdash;and have access<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of balm, of oil, of spice, of ambergris.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">How roses first came red, and lilies white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Heaven,&mdash;and hope to have it after all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Herrick's best things," says Robert Buchanan, "are his poems in praise
+of the country life, and his worst things are his epigrams. His
+gladsome, mercurial temper had a great deal to do with the composition
+of his best lyrics; for the parson of Dean Prior was no philosopher, and
+his lightest, airiest verses are the best. His was a happy, careless
+nature, throwing off verses out of the fulness of a joyous heart,
+rioting in a pleasant, sunny element."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>[<a href="./images/203.png">203</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Edmund Waller.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SONG.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, lovely Rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell her that wastes her time and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That now she knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I resemble her to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet and fair she seems to be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tell her that's young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shuns to have her graces spied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That had'st thou sprung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In deserts where no men abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou must have uncommended died.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Small is the worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of beauty from the light retired;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bid her come forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffer herself to be desired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not blush so to be admired.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then die, that she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The common fate of all things rare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May read in thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How small a part of time they share<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who are so wondrous sweet and fair.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>[<a href="./images/204.png">204</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>OF ENGLISH VERSE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poets may boast, as safely vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their works shall with the world remain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both bound together, live or die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The verses and the prophecy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But who can hope his line should long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Last, in a daily-changing tongue?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they are new, envy prevails;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as that dies our language fails.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When architects have done their part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The matter may betray their art:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon brings a well-built palace down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poets, that lasting marble seek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must carve in Latin or in Greek:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We write in sand, our language grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Chaucer his sense can only boast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory of his numbers lost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Years have defac't his matchless strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet he did not sing in vain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The beauties which adorn'd that age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shining subjects of his rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hoping they should immortal prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rewarded with success his love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>[<a href="./images/205.png">205</a>]</span><span class="i0">This was the gen'rous poet's scope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all an English pen can hope;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make the fair approve his flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That can so far extend their fame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Verse thus design'd has no ill fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If it arrive but at the date<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fading beauty, if it prove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as long-liv'd as present love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON A GIRDLE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That which her slender waist confin'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall now my joyful temples bind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No monarch but would give his crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His arms might do what this has done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was my heaven's extremest sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pale which held that lovely deer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did all within this circle move!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A narrow compass! and yet there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give me but what this riband bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take all the rest the sun goes round.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Edmund Waller</span>, whose poetry is noticeable because he was the first
+English versifier to adopt the French fashion of writing in couplets,
+was born in Warwickshire in 1605. He was elected to Parliament at the
+age of seventeen, and was a member of that body <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>[<a href="./images/206.png">206</a>]</span>during the greater part
+of his life. At the beginning of the difficulties between the king and
+the Parliament, he gained some notoriety by his opposition to the
+former, but when the Civil War broke out he attached himself to the
+Royalist cause. In 1643, being convicted of complicity in a plot against
+Parliament, he was fined &pound;10,000 and imprisoned for twelve months. After
+his release he went to France; but in 1653 he returned to England and
+became reconciled to the new government, writing, soon afterward, "A
+Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the present Greatness and joint
+Interest of his Highness and this Nation." At the Restoration he eagerly
+declared allegiance to Charles II., and wrote a congratulatory ode on
+that monarch's return. He became a court favorite, noted for his wit,
+was made provost of Eton, and returned to his old place in Parliament.
+He died October 21, 1687. The first edition of his poems was published
+in 1645, and from that time to the close of the seventeenth century he
+was quite generally regarded as the greatest of English poets. At the
+present time there are few writers so little considered as he.</p>
+
+<p>Waller may be regarded as the founder of the classical school of English
+poetry, in which Dryden and Pope excelled, and which remained in the
+ascendency for more than a century after his death. "The excellence and
+dignity of rhyme," says Dryden, "were never fully known till Mr. Waller
+taught it; he first made writing easily an art, first showed us to
+conclude the sense, most commonly, in distichs, which in the verse of
+those before him runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is
+out of breath to overtake it."</p>
+
+<p>And Dr. Johnson says: "He certainly very much excelled in smoothness
+most of the writers who were living when his poetry commenced. But he
+was rather smooth than strong: of the 'full resounding line' which Pope
+attributes to Dryden, he has given very few examples. The general
+character of his poetry is elegance and gaiety. He seems neither to have
+had a mind much elevated by nature, nor amplified by learning. His
+thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
+life would easily supply."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>[<a href="./images/207.png">207</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Ben Jonson.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>AN ODE TO HIMSELF.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where dost Thou careless lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Buried in ease and sloth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this security,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is the common moth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That eats on wits and arts, and [so] destroys them both.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are all the Aonian<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" class="marker">1</a> springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dried up? lies Thespia waste?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth Clarius'<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" class="marker">2</a> harp want strings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That not a nymph now sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or droop they as disgrac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see their seats and bowers by chattering pies<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" class="marker">3</a> defac'd?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If hence<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" class="marker">4</a> thy silence be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As 'tis too just a cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let this thought quicken thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minds that are great and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should not on fortune pause;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis crown enough to virtue<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" class="marker">5</a> still, her own applause.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What though the greedy fry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Be taken with false baits<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>[<a href="./images/208.png">208</a>]</span><span class="i0">Of worded balladry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think it poesy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They die with their conceits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only piteous scorn upon their folly waits.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then take in hand thy lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Strike in thy proper strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Japhet's line,<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" class="marker">6</a> aspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sol's chariot for new fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To give the world again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who aided him, will thee, the issue of Jove's brain.<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, since our dainty age<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cannot endure reproof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make not thyself a page<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that strumpet the stage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But sing high and aloof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem is found in the collection of miscellaneous pieces, by Ben
+Jonson, entitled "Underwoods." The poet reproaches himself for his own
+indolence.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1">1.</a> <b>Aonian springs.</b> The fountain Aganippe, situated in Aonia, was much
+frequented by the Muses, who were therefore sometimes called "Aonides."
+They were also called <i>Thespiades</i>, because Mount Helicon, one of their
+favored resorts, was in the vicinity of Thespia, and was itself named
+"Thespia rupes."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2">2.</a> <b>Clarius.</b> The name applied to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at
+Clarus, on the Ionian coast.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3">3.</a> <b>pies.</b> Magpies, "who make sound without sense."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4">4.</a> <b>hence.</b> For this reason.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>[<a href="./images/209.png">209</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5">5.</a> <b>virtue .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. her own applause.</b> Compare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue is her own reward."&mdash;<i>Dryden</i>, <i>Tyrannic Love</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue, a reward to itself."&mdash;<i>Walton</i>, <i>Compleat Angler</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue is its own reward."&mdash;<i>Prior</i>, <i>Imitations of Horace</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6">6.</a> <b>Japhet's line.</b> The line of Iapetus, the father of Prometheus, who
+stole fire from the chariot of the sun.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7">7.</a> <b>issue of Jove's brain.</b> Athene, or Minerva.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8">8.</a> "Safe from the slanderer and the fool."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO CYNTHIA.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now the sun is laid to sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seated in thy silver chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">State in wonted manner keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hesperus entreats thy light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth, let not thy envious shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dare itself to interpose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cynthia's shining orb was made<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaven to clear, when day did close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bless us then with wished sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lay thy bow of pearl apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And thy crystal-shining quiver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give unto the flying heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Space to breathe, how short soever;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou that mak'st a day of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>[<a href="./images/210.png">210</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER<br />
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE<br />
+HATH LEFT US.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_1" id="marker_To_the_Memory_1"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While I confess thy writings to be such,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For seeliest<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_2" id="marker_To_the_Memory_2"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_2" class="marker">2</a> ignorance on these may light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think to ruin where it seemed to praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou art proof against them and, indeed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My <span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> rise! I will not lodge thee by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little further, to make thee a room:<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_3" id="marker_To_the_Memory_3"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art a monument without a tomb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And art alive still while thy book doth live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we have wits to read, and praise to give.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I not mix thee so my brain excuses,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if I thought my judgment were of years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should commit thee surely with thy peers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell how far thou didst our Lyly<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_4" id="marker_To_the_Memory_4"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_4" class="marker">4</a> outshine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>[<a href="./images/211.png">211</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thence to honor thee I would not seek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For names, but call forth thund'ring &AElig;schylus,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_5" id="marker_To_the_Memory_5"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Euripides, and Sophocles to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pacuvius, Accius,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_6" id="marker_To_the_Memory_6"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_6" class="marker">6</a> him of Cordova dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shake a stage; or when thy socks<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_7" id="marker_To_the_Memory_7"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_7" class="marker">7</a> were on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave thee alone for a comparison<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was not of an age, but for all time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Muses still were in their prime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature herself was proud of his designs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neat Terence, witty Plautus,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_8" id="marker_To_the_Memory_8"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_8" class="marker">8</a> now not please;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But antiquated and deserted lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they were not of Nature's family.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though the poet's matter nature be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His art doth give the fashion; and that he<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_9" id="marker_To_the_Memory_9"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who casts to write a living line, must sweat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the Muses' anvil, turn the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or for the laurel he may gain to scorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a good poet's made, as well as born.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>[<a href="./images/212.png">212</a>]</span><span class="i0">And such wert thou! Look, how the father's face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lives in his issue, even so the race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his well-turn&egrave;d and true fil&egrave;d lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In each of which he seems to shake a lance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet Swan of Avon!<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_10" id="marker_To_the_Memory_10"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_10" class="marker">10</a> what a sight it were<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see thee in our waters yet appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That so did take Eliza and our James!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_11" id="marker_To_the_Memory_11"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Advanced, and made a constellation there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And despairs day but for thy volume's light.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was prefixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, 1623,
+and is also printed in Ben Jonson's "Underwoods."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_1" id="Note_To_the_Memory_1"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_1">1.</a> The meaning of these two lines would seem to be: "To show that I am
+not envious, Shakespeare, of thy name, I thus write fully of thy works
+and fame."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_2" id="Note_To_the_Memory_2"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_2">2.</a> <b>seeliest.</b> Silliest, simplest. From A.-S. <i>saelig</i>, foolish. See note
+23, page <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_3" id="Note_To_the_Memory_3"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_3">3.</a> In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakespeare, beginning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Renown&egrave;d Spenser, lie a thought more nigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A little nearer Spenser, to make room<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For Shakespear in your threefold, fourfold tomb."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_4" id="Note_To_the_Memory_4"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_4">4.</a> <b>Lyly, Kyd, Marlowe.</b> Contemporaries of Shakespeare. See Biographical
+Dictionary.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>[<a href="./images/213.png">213</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_To_the_Memory_5" id="Note_To_the_Memory_5"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_5">5.</a> <b>&AElig;schylus, Euripides, and Sophocles.</b> The founders of the Greek
+tragical drama.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_6" id="Note_To_the_Memory_6"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_6">6.</a> <b>Pacuvius, Accius.</b> Celebrated Roman tragic poets.</p>
+
+<p><b>him of Cordova.</b> Seneca, the great rhetorician, was born at Cordova, in
+Spain, <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> 61.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_7" id="Note_To_the_Memory_7"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_7">7.</a> <b>socks were on.</b> The socks indicated comedy, and the buskins tragedy.
+Compare Milton's "L'Allegro," 131:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then to the well-trod stage anon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">If Jonson's learned sock be on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Warble his native wood-note wild."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, "Il Penseroso," 97. See note on <i>buskin</i>, page <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_8" id="Note_To_the_Memory_8"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_8">8.</a> <b>Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus.</b> Ancient writers of comedy.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_9" id="Note_To_the_Memory_9"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_9">9.</a> <b>that he.</b> That man.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_10" id="Note_To_the_Memory_10"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_10">10.</a> <b>Swan of Avon.</b> So Cowper calls Virgil "the Mantuan swan."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_11" id="Note_To_the_Memory_11"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_11">11.</a> <b>hemisphere.</b> The celestial hemisphere.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span> was born in Westminster, in 1573. His early life was full of
+hard and varied experiences. He was educated at Westminster School, and
+entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Being obliged to leave his
+university course unfinished, he worked for a time with his step-father
+as a brick-layer. At the age of eighteen he enlisted as a volunteer in
+the Low Countries; but in 1596 he settled in London, as a playwright.
+His first comedy, "Every Man in his Humour," did not meet with immediate
+success. It was remodelled, at Shakespeare's suggestion, and when
+afterwards presented was received with marked favor. His first tragedy,
+"Sejanus," was acted in 1603. His masques, of which there are
+thirty-six, were written during the reign of James I. His miscellaneous
+works, embracing a variety of odes, elegies, epigrams, and other lyrics
+and epistles, are included in two collections, the first of which,
+called <i>The Forest</i>, was published in 1616, and the second posthumously,
+in 1641. He died in London, August 6, 1637.</p>
+
+<p>One of the last and most beautiful of Jonson's dramas is the unfinished
+pastoral comedy, "The Sad Shepherd." It was written while in the
+sick-chamber, with a keen sense and remembrance of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>[<a href="./images/214.png">214</a>]</span>the disappointments
+which had followed him through life; and to these he touchingly refers
+in the prologue:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He that hath feasted you these forty years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And fitted fables for your finer ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yet you, with patience, hearkening more and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At length have grown up to him, and made known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The working of his pen is now your own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To hear him this once more, but sit awake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And though he now present you with such wool<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He hopes when it is made up into cloth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Not the most curious head here will be loth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To match or those of Sicily or Greece.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His scene is Sherwood, and his play a tale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where, by the casual absence of one guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The mirth is troubled much, and in one man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As much of sadness shown as passion can."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Robert Herrick wrote of him thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"Ah Ben!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Say how or when<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Shall we, thy guests,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Meet at those lyric feasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Made at the Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Dog, the Triple Tun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where we such clusters had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As made us nobly wild, not mad?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And yet each verse of thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"My Ben!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or come again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or send to us<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy wit's great overplus;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But teach us yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Wisely to husband it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lest we that talent spend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And having once brought to an end<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That precious stock,&mdash;the store<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such a wit the world should have no more."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>[<a href="./images/215.png">215</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Sixteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>In fifty-two years, without counting the drama, two hundred and
+thirty-three poets are enumerated, of whom forty have genius or
+talent.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. What is this condition which gives rise to so universal a
+taste for poetry? What is it breathes life into their books? How happens
+it, that amongst the least, in spite of pedantrie, awkwardnesses, we
+meet with brilliant pictures and genuine love-cries? How happens it,
+that when this generation was exhausted, true poetry ended in England,
+as true painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the
+mind came and passed away,&mdash;that, namely, of instinctive and creative
+conception. These men had new senses, and no theories in their heads.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+They are happy in contemplating beautiful things, and wish only that
+they should be the most beautiful possible. They do not excite
+themselves to express moral or philosophical ideas. They wish to enjoy
+through the imagination, through the eyes, like those Italian nobles,
+who, at the same time, were so captivated by fine colors and forms, that
+they covered with paintings not only their rooms and their churches, but
+the lids of their chests and the saddles of their horses.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Think what
+poetry was likely to spring from them, how superior to common events,
+how free from literal imitation, how smitten with ideal beauty, how
+capable of creating a world beyond our sad world.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>[<a href="./images/216.png">216</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Sixteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Thomas Wyatt</b> (1503-1542). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</b> (1517-1547). See biographical note, page
+<a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Gascoigne</b> (1536-1577). "The Steel Glass"; "The Tragedy of
+Iocaste."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst</b> (1536-1608). "The Induction to the
+Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edmund Spenser</b> (1552-1598). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Philip Sidney</b> (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short
+poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Watson</b> (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of
+Love"; "Melib&oelig;us"; "The Tears of Fancie."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Lyly</b> (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's
+Metamorphosis."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Greene</b> (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Christopher Marlowe</b> (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Lodge</b> (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Warner</b> (1550-1609). "Albion's England"; "Pan, his Syrinx or
+Pipe."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Shakespeare</b> (1564-1616). See note, page <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Daniel</b> (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the two
+Houses of York and Lancaster."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Walter Raleigh</b> (1552-1618). Short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Chapman</b> (1559-1634). Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and "Homer's
+Odyssey."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Michael Drayton</b> (1563-1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars"; "The
+Battle of Agincourt."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Joseph Hall</b> (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Davies</b> (&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-1626). "Nosce Teipsum."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Donne</b> (1573-1631). Short poems.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>[<a href="./images/217.png">217</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Shakespeare.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "VENUS AND ADONIS."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On his bow-back he hath a battle set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a>[<a href="./images/218.png">218</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose full perfection all the world amazes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But having thee at vantage,&mdash;wondrous dread!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come not within his danger by thy will;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the roe which no encounter dare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How he outruns the wind and with what care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The many musets through the which he goes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>[<a href="./images/219.png">219</a>]</span><span class="i0">"For there his smell with others being mingled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As if another chase were in the skies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hearken if his foes pursue him still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now his grief may be compared well<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turn, and return, indenting with the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For misery is trodden on by many,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And being low never relieved by any."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "CYMBELINE."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Phoebus 'gins arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On chaliced flowers that lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To ope their golden eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With everything that pretty is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My lady sweet, arise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Arise, arise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a>[<a href="./images/220.png">220</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Men were deceivers ever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One foot in sea and one on shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To one thing constant never:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of dumps so dull and heavy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fraud of men was ever so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since summer first was leafy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.</h2>
+
+<h3>[SONNET XXXIII.]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kissing with golden face the meadows green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon permit the basest clouds to ride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With ugly rack on his celestial face,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>[<a href="./images/221.png">221</a>]</span><span class="i0">And from the forlorn world his visage hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even so my sun one early morn did shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE WORLD'S WAY.</h2>
+
+<h3>[SONNET LXVI.]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As, to behold desert a beggar born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And purest faith unhappily forsworn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And strength by limping sway disabled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And art made tongue-tied by authority,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And captive Good attending captain Ill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare</span> was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and
+died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic
+compositions. His two narrative poems, "Venus <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>[<a href="./images/222.png">222</a>]</span>and Adonis" and "The Rape
+of Lucrece," were published in 1593 and 1594, before any of his plays
+had been printed. They may be regarded as companion pieces, written in
+the same style and distinguished by similar characteristics.</p>
+
+<p>"A couple of ice-houses," says Dowden, "these two poems of Shakespeare
+have been called by Hazlitt; 'they are,' he says, 'as hard, as
+glittering, as cold.' Cold indeed they will seem to any one who listens
+to hear in them the natural cry of human passion. But the paradox is
+true, that for a young poet of Elizabeth's age to be natural, direct,
+simple, would have been indeed unnatural. He was most happy when most
+fantastical; he spun a shining web to catch conceits inevitably as a
+spider casts his thread; the quick-building wit was itself warm while
+erecting its ice-houses." Coleridge says of the "Venus and Adonis" that
+its most obvious excellence "is the perfect sweetness of the
+versification; its adaptation to the subject; and the power displayed in
+varying the march of the words without passing into a loftier and more
+majestic rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the
+propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant."</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare's "Sonnets" were published in 1609. Concerning the origin,
+purpose, and interpretation of these poems, many widely different
+theories have been proposed, "Some have looked on them as one poem."
+says Fleay; "some as several poems&mdash;of groups of sonnets; some as
+containing a separate poem in each sonnet. They have been supposed to be
+written in Shakespeare's own person, or in the character of another, or
+of several others; to be autobiographical or heterobiographical or
+allegorical; to have been addressed to Lord Southampton, to Sir William
+Herbert, to his own wife, to Lady Rich, to his child, to himself, to his
+Muse." The safest and wisest course seems to be, first to regard each of
+the one hundred and fifty-four sonnets as a poem complete in itself, and
+after studying whatever it may contain of art, or beauty, or truth, then
+to discover, if possible, its relationship to those which precede or
+follow it in the series.</p>
+
+<p>Of the other poems written by Shakespeare, mention should be made of
+"The Passionate Pilgrim" (1559), "The Phoenix and the Turtle" (1601), "A
+Lover's Complaint," published in the same volume with the "Sonnets," and
+the few exquisite little songs scattered through his plays.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a>[<a href="./images/223.png">223</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Edmund Spenser.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE CAVE OF MAMMON.</h2>
+
+<div class="poemind2">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Guyon findes Mammon in a delve<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sunning his threasure hore<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" class="marker">2</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is by him tempted, and led downe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see his secrete store.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to a stedfast starre<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" class="marker">3</a> his course hath bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his card and compas firmes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" class="marker">6</a> his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maysters of his long experiment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to them does the steddy helme apply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, long he yode,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" class="marker">7</a> yet no adventure found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" class="marker">8</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>[<a href="./images/224.png">224</a>]</span><span class="i1">At last he came unto a gloomy glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereas he sitting found in secret shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An uncouth, salvage,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" class="marker">9</a> and uncivile wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In smythes fire-spitting<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" class="marker">11</a> forge, and nayles like clawes appear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was underneath enveloped with gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well yet appeared to have beene of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A worke of rich entayle<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" class="marker">12</a> and curious mould,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woven with antickes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" class="marker">13</a> and wyld ymagery;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turned upside downe, to feede his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And covetous desire with his huge threasury.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And round about him lay on every side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which some were rude owre, not purifide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Mulcibers<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" class="marker">14</a> devouring element;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some others were new driven, and distent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into great Ingowes and to wedges square;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some in round plates withouten moniment<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" class="marker">15</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most were stampt, and in their metal bare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And haste he rose for to remove aside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a>[<a href="./images/225.png">225</a>]</span><span class="i0">And downe them poured through an hole full wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That darest view my direfull countenaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"God of the world and worldlings I me call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That of my plenty poure out unto all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And unto none my graces do envye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Riches, renowme, and principality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For which men swinck<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" class="marker">16</a> and sweat incessantly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fro me do flow into an ample flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At thy commaund lo! all these mountaines bee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All these may not suffise, there shall to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Mammon," (said he) "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And idle offers of thy golden fee;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>[<a href="./images/226.png">226</a>]</span><span class="i0">To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Me ill besits,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" class="marker">18</a> that in derdoing, armes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And honours suit my vowd daies do spend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regard of worldly mucke<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" class="marker">19</a> doth fowly blend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And low abase the high heroicke spright,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" class="marker">20</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Vaine glorious Elfe," (saide he) "doest not thou weet,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" class="marker">21</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That money can thy wantes at will supply?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"All otherwise" (saide he) "I riches read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a>[<a href="./images/227.png">227</a>]</span><span class="i1">"Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loyall truth to treason doest incline:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And purple robe gored with many a wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The private state, and make the life unsweet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Mammon wexing wroth: "And why then," sayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Are mortall men so fond<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" class="marker">22</a> and undiscreet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having not complaine, and having it upbrayd?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Indeede," (quoth he) "through fowle intemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But would they thinke with how small allowaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untroubled Nature doth herselfe suffise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such superfluities they would despise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which with sad cares empeach<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" class="marker">23</a> our native joyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the well-head the purest streames arise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"The antique world, in his first flowring youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fownd no defect in his Creators grace;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a>[<a href="./images/228.png">228</a>]</span><span class="i0">But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To all licentious lust, and gan exceed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The measure of her meane and naturall first need.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his great Grandmother<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" class="marker">26</a> with steele to wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which the matter of his huge desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then avarice gan through his veines inspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Sonne," (said he then) "lett be<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" class="marker">27</a> thy bitter scorne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave the rudenesse of that antique age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them that liv'd therein, in state forlorne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If then thee list my offred grace to use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take what thou please of all this surplusage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But refused doe not afterward accuse."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Me list<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" class="marker">29</a> not" (said the Elfin knight) "receave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne wote but thou didst these goods bereave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a>[<a href="./images/229.png">229</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Perdy,"<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" class="marker">30</a> (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But safe I have them kept in secret mew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So huge a masse, and hide from heaven's eie?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or where hast thou thy wonne,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" class="marker">31</a> that so much gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A darkesome way, which no man could descry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That deep descended through the hollow grownd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">At length they came into a larger space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne.<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" class="marker">32</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By that wayes side there sate internall Payne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other brandished a bloody knife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On thother side in one consort there sate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But gnawing Gealousy, out of their sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>[<a href="./images/230.png">230</a>]</span><span class="i1">And over them sad Horror with grim hew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hatefull messengers of heavy things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of death and dolor telling sad tidings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hart of flint asonder could have rifte;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">All these before the gates of Pluto lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By whom they passing spake unto them nought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At last him to a little dore he brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt them both was but a little stride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore his house is unto his annext:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To him did open and affoorded way:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>[<a href="./images/231.png">231</a>]</span><span class="i0">Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He over him did hold his cruell clawes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">That houses forme within was rude and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with rich metall loaded every rifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over them Arachne high did lifte<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But overgrowne with dust and old decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hid in darkenes, that none could behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>[<a href="./images/232.png">232</a>]</span><span class="i0">Did never in that house it selfe display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But a faint shadow of uncertain light:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">In all that rowme was nothing to be seene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All bard with double bends, that none could weene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them to efforce by violence or wrong:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On every side they placed were along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose lives, it seemed, whilome<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" class="marker">34</a> there were shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their vile carcases now left unburied.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This is a selection from Spenser's great poem, "The Faerie Queene,"
+being a part of the seventh canto of book second. "The Faerie Queene"
+was published in 1590, and comprises six books of twelve cantos each.
+The first book is the Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the
+second, of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, or
+Chastity; the fourth, of Cambel and Triamond, or Friendship; the fifth,
+of Artegall, or Justice; the sixth, of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. It was
+Spenser's design that the complete work should contain twelve books, but
+of the remaining part only a fragment of one book, the "Legend of
+Constance," is in existence.</p>
+
+<p>The versification of the "Faerie Queene" is based upon the <i>ottava
+rima</i>, made so popular in Italian poetry by Tasso and Ariosto. Instead
+of eight lines to a stanza, however, there are nine. The first eight
+lines are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter, the stanza thus
+closing with a lingering cadence which adds greatly to the melody of the
+verse. This is the "Spenserian stanza," a form of versification very
+popular with many of our later poets.</p>
+
+<p>"If you love poetry well enough to enjoy it for its own sake," says
+Leigh Hunt, "let no evil reports of his <i>allegory</i> deter you from an
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>[<a href="./images/233.png">233</a>]</span>acquaintance with Spenser, for great will be your loss. His allegory
+itself is but one part allegory and nine parts beauty and enjoyment;
+sometimes an excess of flesh and blood. His wholesale poetical belief,
+mixing up all creeds and mythologies, but with less violence, resembles
+that of Dante and Boccaccio. His versification is almost perpetual
+honey."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1">1.</a> <b>delve.</b> Dell. From A.-S. <i>delfan</i>, delve, to dig. Each canto of the
+"Faerie Queene" is introduced by a four-line doggerel like this,
+containing the argument, or a brief summary of the narrative,&mdash;in
+imitation, probably, of Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2">2.</a> <b>hore.</b> Sordid, miserly. Probably from A.-S. <i>harian</i>, to become mouldy
+or musty. The word <i>hoard</i> may be traced to a similar root.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3">3.</a> <b>stedfast starre.</b> The pole-star. See "Faerie Queene," I, ii, 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By this the northerne wagoner had set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That was in ocean waves yet never wet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4">4.</a> <b>yblent.</b> Blinded.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5">5.</a> <b>dreriment.</b> Darkness.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6">6.</a> <b>firmes.</b> Fixes, makes firm.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7">7.</a> <b>yode.</b> Went. The past participle of the old verb <i>yede</i>, from A.-S.
+<i>gangead</i>, to go, to proceed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8">8.</a> <b>reedes.</b> Considers. From A.-S. <i>r&aelig;d</i>, counsel, advice; O. E. <i>rede</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9">9.</a> <b>salvage.</b> Savage, wild. Fr. <i>sauvage</i>. From Lat. <i>silva</i>, forest. See
+"Faerie Queene," IV, v, 19:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For all his armour was like salvage weed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i"><i>Salvagesse sans finesse</i>,<a name="FNanchor_233:1_6" id="FNanchor_233:1_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_233:1_6" class="fnanchor">[233:1]</a> shewing secret wit."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>wight.</b> Person. From A.-S. <i>wiht</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For every wight that loved chevalrie."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Chaucer</i>, <i>Canterbury Tales</i>, 2105.</p>
+
+<p><b>griesly.</b> Dreadful. From A.-S. <i>grislic</i>; <i>agrisan</i>, to dread. Grisly.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10">10.</a> <b>bedight.</b> Covered. From <i>dight</i>, to dress, to deck. A.-S. <i>dihtan</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11">11.</a> <b>fire-spitting.</b> "<i>Spett</i> seems anciently to have more simply
+signified <i>disperse</i>, without the low idea which we at present affix to
+it."&mdash;<i>Warton.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12">12.</a> <b>entayle.</b> Sculpture, carving. Compare <i>intaglio</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>[<a href="./images/234.png">234</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13">13.</a> <b>antickes.</b> Odd, or fantastic, forms. From Lat, <i>antiquus</i>, ancient.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14">14.</a> <b>of Mulcibers devouring element.</b> By fire. Mulciber is a surname of
+Vulcan, "which seems to have been given him as an euphemism, that he
+might not consume the habitations and property of men, but kindly aid
+them in their pursuits."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15">15.</a> <b>withouten moniment.</b> Without superscription.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16">16.</a> <b>swinck.</b> Labor, drudge. A.-S. <i>swincan</i>, to toil.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17">17.</a> <b>sew.</b> Follow. From Fr. <i>suivre</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>deigne.</b> From Fr. <i>daigner</i>, to consider worthy. Opposed to <i>disdain</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18">18.</a> <b>Me ill besits.</b> It ill becomes me.</p>
+
+<p><b>derdoing.</b> Dare-doing; doing daring deeds.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19">19.</a> <b>worldly mucke.</b> "Filthy lucre."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20">20.</a> <b>spright.</b> Spirit.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21">21.</a> <b>weet.</b> Understand. From A.-S. <i>witan</i>, to know.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22">22.</a> <b>fond.</b> Foolish.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23">23.</a> <b>empeach.</b> Hinder. Fr. <i>emp&ecirc;cher</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24">24.</a> <b>accloyes.</b> Chokes or clogs up. Observe how the poet carries out his
+metaphor of the "well-head," "the purest streames," "his braunching
+armes," and "the gentle wave."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25">25.</a> <b>unreproved truth.</b> Sincerity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26">26.</a> <b>great Grandmother.</b> Mother Earth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27">27.</a> <b>lett be.</b> Leave off; make an end of.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28">28.</a> <b>wage.</b> Pledge. Observe the relationship between this word and both
+<i>wager</i> and <i>wages</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29">29.</a> <b>Me list.</b> I wish. Compare <i>methinks</i>, <i>meseems</i>. From A.-S. <i>lystan</i>,
+to choose.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The wind bloweth where it listeth."&mdash;<i>John</i> iii. 8.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>wote.</b> Understood. See note <a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21">21</a> above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30">30.</a> <b>Perdy.</b> An old oath used to give emphasis to an assertion. From Fr.
+<i>par dieu</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31">31.</a> <b>wonne.</b> Habitation. From A.-S. <i>wunian</i>, to dwell.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32">32.</a> <b>rayne.</b> Reign. The word is frequently used in the older poets for
+<i>realm</i>, or <i>region</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33">33.</a> <b>next to Death is Sleepe.</b></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How wonderful is Death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Death and his brother Sleep!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shelley</i>, <i>Queen Mab</i>, I.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34">34.</a> <b>whilome.</b> At some time.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_233:1_6" id="Footnote_233:1_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_233:1_6"><span class="label">[233:1]</span></a> Wildness without art.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>[<a href="./images/235.png">235</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>PROTHALAMION; <span class="smcap">or</span>, A SPOUSALL VERSE.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">In honour of the double marriage of the two honorable and vertuous
+ladies, the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Katherine Somerset, daughters to
+the right honorable the Earle of Worcester, and espoused to the two
+worthie gentlemen, M. Henry Gilford and M. William Peter, Esquyers.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hot Titans<a name="marker_Prothalamion_1" id="marker_Prothalamion_1"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_1" class="marker">1</a> beames, which then did glyster fayre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I, (whom sullein care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In princes court,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_2" id="marker_Prothalamion_2"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_2" class="marker">2</a> and expectation vayne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walkt forth to ease my payne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes<a name="marker_Prothalamion_3" id="marker_Prothalamion_3"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_3" class="marker">3</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose rutty<a name="marker_Prothalamion_4" id="marker_Prothalamion_4"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_4" class="marker">4</a> bank, the which his river hemmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was paynted all with variable flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit to decke maydens bowres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crown their paramours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against<a name="marker_Prothalamion_5" id="marker_Prothalamion_5"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_5" class="marker">5</a> the brydale-day, which is not long;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All lovely daughters of the Flood<a name="marker_Prothalamion_6" id="marker_Prothalamion_6"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_6" class="marker">6</a> thereby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_7" id="marker_Prothalamion_7"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As each had been a bryde;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>[<a href="./images/236.png">236</a>]</span><span class="i0">And each one had a little wicker basket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made of fine twigs, entrayled<a name="marker_Prothalamion_8" id="marker_Prothalamion_8"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_8" class="marker">8</a> curiously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_9" id="marker_Prothalamion_9"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with fine fingers cropt<a name="marker_Prothalamion_10" id="marker_Prothalamion_10"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_10" class="marker">10</a> full feateously<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tender stalkes on hye.<a name="marker_Prothalamion_11" id="marker_Prothalamion_11"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every sort which in that meadow grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They gathered some; the violet, pallid<a name="marker_Prothalamion_12" id="marker_Prothalamion_12"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_12" class="marker">12</a> blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The little dazie that at evening closes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_13" id="marker_Prothalamion_13"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With store<a name="marker_Prothalamion_14" id="marker_Prothalamion_14"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_14" class="marker">14</a> of vermeil roses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To deck their bridegroomes posies<a name="marker_Prothalamion_15" id="marker_Prothalamion_15"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the brydale-day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With that<a name="marker_Prothalamion_16" id="marker_Prothalamion_16"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_16" class="marker">16</a> I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come softly swimming downe along the lee<a name="marker_Prothalamion_17" id="marker_Prothalamion_17"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_17" class="marker">17</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two fairer birds I yet did never see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did never whiter shew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love of Leda, whiter did appeare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near<a name="marker_Prothalamion_18" id="marker_Prothalamion_18"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_18" class="marker">18</a>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So purely white they were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wet their silken feathers, least they might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marre their beauties bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shone as heavens light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>[<a href="./images/237.png">237</a>]</span><span class="i0">Eftsoones<a name="marker_Prothalamion_19" id="marker_Prothalamion_19"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_19" class="marker">19</a> the Nymphes, which now had flowers their fill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they came floating on the cristal flood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their wondring eyes to fill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sure they did not seeme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be begot of any earthly seede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But rather angels, or of angels breede;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet were they bred of Somers-heat,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_20" id="marker_Prothalamion_20"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_20" class="marker">20</a> they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sweetest season, when each flower and weede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth did fresh array;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fresh they seem'd as day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even as their brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forth they all out of their baskets drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All which upon those goodly birds they threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the waves did strew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That like old Peneus<a name="marker_Prothalamion_21" id="marker_Prothalamion_21"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_21" class="marker">21</a> waters they did seeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a brydes chambre flore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>[<a href="./images/238.png">238</a>]</span><span class="i0">The which presenting all in trim array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst one did sing this lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prepar'd against that day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Of your loves couplement;<a name="marker_Prothalamion_22" id="marker_Prothalamion_22"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"With her heart-quelling Sonne<a name="marker_Prothalamion_23" id="marker_Prothalamion_23"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_23" class="marker">23</a> upon you smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forever to assoile.<a name="marker_Prothalamion_24" id="marker_Prothalamion_24"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And blessed plentie wait upon your bord<a name="marker_Prothalamion_25" id="marker_Prothalamion_25"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_25" class="marker">25</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"That fruitfull issue may to you afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Which may your foes confound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And make your ioyes redound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Upon your brydale day, which is not long."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So ended she; and all the rest around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her redoubled<a name="marker_Prothalamion_26" id="marker_Prothalamion_26"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_26" class="marker">26</a> that her undersong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which said, their brydale day should not be long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle Eccho from the neighbour<a name="marker_Prothalamion_27" id="marker_Prothalamion_27"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_27" class="marker">27</a> ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their accents did resound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a>[<a href="./images/239.png">239</a>]</span><span class="i0">As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet did by signes his glad affection show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making his streame run slow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the foule which in his flood did dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend<a name="marker_Prothalamion_28" id="marker_Prothalamion_28"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did on those two attend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their best service lend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their wedding day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length they all to mery London came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mery London, my most kyndly nurse,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_29" id="marker_Prothalamion_29"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_29" class="marker">29</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to me gave this lifes first native sourse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though from another place I take my name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An house of auncient fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There when they came, whereas those bricky towres<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_30" id="marker_Prothalamion_30"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_30" class="marker">30</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they decayd through pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next whereunto there standes a stately place,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_31" id="marker_Prothalamion_31"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose want too well now feels my freendles case;<a name="marker_Prothalamion_32" id="marker_Prothalamion_32"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_32" class="marker">32</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! here fits not well<a name="marker_Prothalamion_33" id="marker_Prothalamion_33"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old woes, but ioyes, to tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the brydale daye, which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_34" id="marker_Prothalamion_34"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>[<a href="./images/240.png">240</a>]</span><span class="i0">Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine<a name="marker_Prothalamion_35" id="marker_Prothalamion_35"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_35" class="marker">35</a> did thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hercules two Pillors<a name="marker_Prothalamion_36" id="marker_Prothalamion_36"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_36" class="marker">36</a> standing neere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did make to quake and feare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That promiseth the same;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And great Elisaes glorious name may ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which some brave muse may sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ages following,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the brydale day which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From those high towers this noble lord issuing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like radiant Hesper,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_37" id="marker_Prothalamion_37"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_37" class="marker">37</a> when his golden hare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Descended to the rivers open vewing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a great train ensuing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the rest were goodly to bee seene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beseeming well the bower of any queene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit for so goodly stature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That like the Twins of Iove<a name="marker_Prothalamion_38" id="marker_Prothalamion_38"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_38" class="marker">38</a> they seem'd in sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which decke the bauldricke<a name="marker_Prothalamion_39" id="marker_Prothalamion_39"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_39" class="marker">39</a> of the heavens bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They two forth pacing to the rivers side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>[<a href="./images/241.png">241</a>]</span><span class="i0">Which,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_40" id="marker_Prothalamion_40"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_40" class="marker">40</a> at th' appointed tyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each one did make his Bryde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595.
+The word <i>prothalamium</i> is from Gr. <i>pro</i>, for, and <i>thalamos</i>, a
+bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song
+than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written&mdash;earlier in the
+same year&mdash;the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing
+of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very
+ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad,"
+XVIII, 493:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">In one were marriage pomp and revelry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And brides, in gay procession, through the streets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With blazing torches from their chambers borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">While frequent rose the hymeneal song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Prothalamion_1" id="Note_Prothalamion_1"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_1">1.</a> <b>Titans.</b> The word is used for Helios, the son of the Titans, Hyperion
+and Thea. Observe that the apostrophe, as the sign of the possessive
+case, is never used by Spenser.</p>
+
+<p><b>glyster.</b> Glisten, shine. From A.-S. <i>glisnian</i>, glow, or shine with a
+soft light.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"All that glisters is not gold."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act ii, sc. vii.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Know one false step is ne'er retrieved .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Nor all that glisters gold."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Gray</i>, <i>On a Favourite Cat, etc.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>fayre.</b> Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage,
+but not current in Spenser's time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_2" id="Note_Prothalamion_2"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_2">2.</a> <b>princes court.</b> Spenser had had experience of the many bitter
+disappointments which befall him who seeks the favor of royalty. In
+"Mother Hubbard's Tale" he complains in this wise:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">What hell it is in suing long to bide:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To lose good dayes that might be better spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a>[<a href="./images/242.png">242</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">To wast long nights in pensive discontent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To speed today, to be put back tomorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_3" id="Note_Prothalamion_3"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_3">3.</a> <b>silver streaming Themmes.</b> Sir John Denham's apostrophe to the Thames
+is well known:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">My great example, as it is my theme!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Strong without rage; without overflowing full."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Cooper's Hill</i>, 189.</p>
+
+<p>And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Windsor Forest</i>, 227.</p>
+
+<p>See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_4" id="Note_Prothalamion_4"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_4">4.</a> <b>rutty.</b> Rooty.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_5" id="Note_Prothalamion_5"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_5">5.</a> <b>Against.</b> For, or in preparation for; to provide for. Compare Genesis
+xliii. 25: "And they made ready the present against Joseph came at
+noon." And Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act iii, sc. ii:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_6" id="Note_Prothalamion_6"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_6">6.</a> <b>Flood.</b> This word was often used, as here, to denote simply a river.
+Pope addresses the river Thames:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou, too, great father of the British floods!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_7" id="Note_Prothalamion_7"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_7">7.</a> <b>all loose untyde.</b> Steevens says: "Brides formerly walked to church
+with their hair hanging loose behind."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_8" id="Note_Prothalamion_8"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_8">8.</a> <b>entrayled.</b> Twisted, interlaced.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_9" id="Note_Prothalamion_9"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_9">9.</a> <b>flasket.</b> A long, shallow basket. Not used here as the diminutive of
+<i>flask</i>. Hales says it is the name given by the fishermen of Cornwall to
+the vessel in which the fish are transferred from the seine to the
+"tuck-net."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_10" id="Note_Prothalamion_10"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_10">10.</a> <b>cropt.</b> Gathered, Dutch <i>krappen</i>, to cut off.</p>
+
+<p><b>feateously.</b> Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Canterbury Tales</i>, 124.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A chambre had he in that hostelrie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>, 3205.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>[<a href="./images/243.png">243</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Prothalamion_11" id="Note_Prothalamion_11"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_11">11.</a> <b>on hye.</b> In haste. Probably the same as <i>hie</i>, haste.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_12" id="Note_Prothalamion_12"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_12">12.</a> <b>pallid.</b> Pale.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_13" id="Note_Prothalamion_13"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_13">13.</a> <b>primrose trew.</b> Compare Milton's "Lycidas," 142:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The rathe primrose that forsaken dies."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pale primroses that die unmarried."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_14" id="Note_Prothalamion_14"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_14">14.</a> <b>store.</b> Abundance.</p>
+
+<p><b>vermeil.</b> Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_15" id="Note_Prothalamion_15"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_15">15.</a> <b>posies.</b> "Posy originally meant verses presented with a nosegay or a
+bunch of flowers, and hence the term came to be applied to the flowers
+themselves."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_16" id="Note_Prothalamion_16"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_16">16.</a> <b>With that.</b> At the same time.</p>
+
+<p><b>Swannes.</b> "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says:
+'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and
+their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their
+course.'"&mdash;<i>Knight's Cyclopedia of London.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_17" id="Note_Prothalamion_17"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_17">17.</a> <b>lee.</b> Water, or river. See "Faerie Queene," V, ii, 19:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His corps was carried downe along the lee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, <i>Ibid.</i>, IV, ii, 16:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As when two warlike brigandines at sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Do meete together on the watry lea."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in
+England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_18" id="Note_Prothalamion_18"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_18">18.</a> <b>nor nothing near.</b> In early English two negatives did not destroy
+each other, as now, but made the negation more emphatic.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_19" id="Note_Prothalamion_19"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_19">19.</a> <b>Eftsoones.</b> Soon after. From A.-S. <i>eft</i>, after, and <i>sona</i>, soon.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_20" id="Note_Prothalamion_20"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_20">20.</a> <b>Somers-heat.</b> The two ladies celebrated in this poem, it will be
+remembered, were Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_21" id="Note_Prothalamion_21"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_21">21.</a> The Peneus river, the most important stream in Thessaly, forces its
+way through the Vale of Tempe, between Mounts Ossa and Olympus, into the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_22" id="Note_Prothalamion_22"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_22">22.</a> <b>loves couplement.</b> Marriage.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_23" id="Note_Prothalamion_23"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_23">23.</a> <b>heart-quelling Sonne.</b> Cupid.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_24" id="Note_Prothalamion_24"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_24">24.</a> <b>assoile.</b> Free from, put off.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Through long watch, and late daies weary toile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Faerie Queene</i>, III, i, 58.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>[<a href="./images/244.png">244</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Prothalamion_25" id="Note_Prothalamion_25"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_25">25.</a> <b>bord.</b> "Bed" and "board" are two associated terms, very frequently
+so used, which imply the performance of the two acts necessary for the
+maintenance of life&mdash;sleeping and eating. See Shakespeare's "Comedy of
+Errors," Act v, sc. i:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In bed he slept not for my urging it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At board he fed not for my urging it."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Wedding is great Juno's crown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">O blessed bond of board and bed!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_26" id="Note_Prothalamion_26"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_26">26.</a> <b>redoubled.</b> Repeated.</p>
+
+<p><b>undersong.</b> Refrain, burden.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_27" id="Note_Prothalamion_27"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_27">27.</a> <b>neighbour.</b> See note <a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11">10</a>, on Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_28" id="Note_Prothalamion_28"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_28">28.</a> <b>shend.</b> Outshine, shame, disgrace. From A.-S. <i>scendan</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_29" id="Note_Prothalamion_29"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_29">29.</a> <b>my most kyndly nurse.</b> Although born in London, the poet was
+"descended from the ancient and honourable family of Spencer, of
+Althorpe in Northamptonshire."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_30" id="Note_Prothalamion_30"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_30">30.</a> "When the order of the Knights Templar was suppressed in Edward the
+Second's reign, their London estate on the bank of the Thames was given
+over to the Knights of St. John; by these it was leased to the students
+of the Common Law, who, not finding a home at Cambridge or Oxford, were
+at that time in want of a habitation."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_31" id="Note_Prothalamion_31"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_31">31.</a> <b>stately place.</b> This stood in the gardens where the Outer Temple
+should have been. In 1580 it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, and
+here Spenser was for a time entertained, as he asserts in the following
+line. The great lord whom he mentions was Leicester.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_32" id="Note_Prothalamion_32"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_32">32.</a> "The want of whom I feel too well in my present friendless
+condition."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_33" id="Note_Prothalamion_33"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_33">33.</a> <b>fits not well.</b> It is not proper.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_34" id="Note_Prothalamion_34"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_34">34.</a> <b>nobler peer.</b> The Earl of Essex.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_35" id="Note_Prothalamion_35"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_35">35.</a> Macaulay says of Lord Essex's expedition against Spain, in 1596,
+that it was "the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on
+the Continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed
+between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_36" id="Note_Prothalamion_36"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_36">36.</a> <b>Hercules two Pillors.</b> The rocky capes on either side of the Strait
+of Gibraltar. It was said that Hercules erected them to mark the western
+limit of his wanderings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_37" id="Note_Prothalamion_37"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_37">37.</a> <b>Hesper.</b> Hesperus was the evening star, also sometimes regarded as
+the morning star, and hence called by Homer the bringer of light. See
+note on Lucifer, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a> and page <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_38" id="Note_Prothalamion_38"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_38">38.</a> <b>Twins of Iove.</b> Castor and Pollux. Two heroic brothers who as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>[<a href="./images/245.png">245</a>]</span>a
+reward of their devotion to each other were placed among the stars in
+the constellation Gemini.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_39" id="Note_Prothalamion_39"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_39">39.</a> <b>bauldricke.</b> Belt, girdle, or sash. The "bauldricke of the heavens"
+is the zodiac.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_40" id="Note_Prothalamion_40"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_40">40.</a> <b>Which.</b> In early English this pronoun was very commonly used instead
+of <i>who</i> when referring to persons.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Edmund Spenser</span> was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated
+at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University,
+where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first
+poetical performances&mdash;translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay&mdash;were
+published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author.
+At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and
+Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students
+who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney
+at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the
+house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published,
+but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards
+Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as
+secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the
+exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his
+life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a
+grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he
+wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they
+were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh,
+who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he
+married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English
+settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and
+published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the
+same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his
+"Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and
+marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the
+half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>[<a href="./images/246.png">246</a>]</span>interrupted by the
+breaking out of an insurrection among the Irish. In 1598 Spenser's house
+was sacked and burned by the rebels, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that he and his family escaped with their lives. Indeed, it
+is stated, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that one little child
+perished in the flames. Spenser returned to London in poverty and great
+distress, and on the 16th of January, 1599, he died in King Street,
+Westminster. He was buried in the Abbey.</p>
+
+<p>Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says
+Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren
+than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton,
+Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as
+the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling
+him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to
+think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he
+became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said
+he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young.
+Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior
+writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made
+use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him."</p>
+
+<p>Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And
+Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he.</p>
+
+<p>With reference to the peculiar forms of language&mdash;comparatively obsolete
+even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed&mdash;which are so marked a
+characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose
+for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry,
+and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older
+forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as
+to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and
+dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his
+vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly,
+the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus
+of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language
+may have seemed the one language of English poetry."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Warton's <i>History of English Poetry</i>; Hazlitt's <i>Lectures on
+the English Poets</i>; Craik's <i>Spenser and his Poetry</i>; Morley's <i>English
+Writers</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>[<a href="./images/247.png">247</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Thomas Wyatt.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A LOVE SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Lover complaineth of the Unkindness of his Love.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My lute, awake! perform the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Labor that thou and I shall waste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And end that I have now begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when this song is sung and past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lute! be still, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As to be heard where ear is none;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As lead to grave in marble stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My song may pierce her heart as soon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, no, my lute! for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The rock doth not so cruelly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repulse the waves continually,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she my suit and affection:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that I am past remedy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proud of the spoil that thou hast got<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think not he hath his bow forgot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>[<a href="./images/248.png">248</a>]</span><span class="i0">Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That makest but game of earnest pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trow not alone under the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May chance thee lie withered and old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In winter nights, that are so cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plaining in vain unto the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy wishes then dare not be told:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Care then who list, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And then may chance thee to repent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The time that thou hast lost and spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wish and want, as I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now cease, my lute! This is the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Labor that thou and I shall waste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ended is that we begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now is thy song both sung and past;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lute, be still, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE COURTIER'S LIFE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In court to serve, decked with fresh array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The life in banquets and sundry kinds of play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the press of worldly looks to waste:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In prison joyes, fettered with chains of gold.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>[<a href="./images/249.png">249</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Earl of Surrey.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S "&AElig;NEID."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;At the threshold of her chamber door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chewing the foaming bit there fiercely stood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then issued she, awaited with great train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroidered rich.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buttoned with gold. The Trojans of her train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&AElig;neas eke, the goodliest of the rout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes one of them, and joineth close the throng.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wint'ring place, and Xanthus, stood likewise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To visit Delos his mother's mansion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repairing eft and furnishing her quire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Candians and the folk of Driopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With painted Agathyrsi shout and cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Environing the altars round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that he walks upon Mount Cynthus' top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His sparkled tress repressed with garlands soft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>[<a href="./images/250.png">250</a>]</span><span class="i0">His quiver and darts clattering behind his back&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fresh and lusty did &AElig;neas seem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to the hills and wild holts when they came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the rock's top the driven savage rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, from the hills above on the other side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amids the plain, now pricks by them, by these;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written
+in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A SONNET.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Description and Praise of his Love Geraldine.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From tender years, in Britain she doth rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunsdon did first present her to my een:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>[<a href="./images/251.png">251</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happy is he that can obtain her love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such profit he by envy could obtain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A head where wisdom mysteries did frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on a stithe where that some work of fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mark, the which (unperfected for time)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some may approach, but never none shall hit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An eye whose judgment none effect could blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Friends to allure and foes to reconcile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose piercing look did represent a mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A heart where dread was never so imprest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hide the thought that might the truth advance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>[<a href="./images/252.png">252</a>]</span><span class="i0">A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Happy alas, too happy but for foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lived, and ran the race that nature set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Wyatt</span> and <span class="smcap">Surrey</span> are usually named together as the most illustrious
+poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins
+calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"
+he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of
+Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers&mdash;the period
+which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and
+Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they
+were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller,
+Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's
+translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "&AElig;neid" (1552) is
+the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Wyatt</span> was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was
+a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was
+knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of
+the same year he was sent as ambassador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was
+with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England
+he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in
+1542.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</span>, was born about 1517, and, like his friend
+Wyatt, passed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France
+in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its
+governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he
+was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of
+the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of
+high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal
+arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>[<a href="./images/253.png">253</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Ballads.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WALY, WALY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O waly,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_1" id="marker_Waly_Waly_1"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_1" class="marker">1</a> waly, up the bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O waly, waly, doun the brae,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_2" id="marker_Waly_Waly_2"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waly, waly, yon burn-side,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_3" id="marker_Waly_Waly_3"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where I and my love were wont to gae!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lean'd my back unto an aik,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I thocht it was a trustie tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first it bow'd and syne<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_4" id="marker_Waly_Waly_4"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_4" class="marker">4</a> it brak',&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sae my true love did lichtlie<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_5" id="marker_Waly_Waly_5"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_5" class="marker">5</a> me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O waly, waly, but love be bonnie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little time while it is new!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when it's auld it waxeth cauld,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O wherefore should I busk<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_6" id="marker_Waly_Waly_6"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_6" class="marker">6</a> my heid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or wherefore should I kame my hair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my true love has me forsook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And says he'll never lo'e me mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Noo Arthur's Seat<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_7" id="marker_Waly_Waly_7"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_7" class="marker">7</a> sall be my bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saint Anton's well sall be my drink;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since my true love's forsaken me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shake the green leaves off the tree?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>[<a href="./images/254.png">254</a>]</span><span class="i0">O gentle death, when wilt thou come?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For of my life I am wearie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But my love's heart grown cauld to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we cam' in by Glasgow toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We were a comely sicht to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My love was clad in the black velvet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I mysel' in cramasie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But had I wist before I kiss'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That love had been so ill to win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And set upon the nurse's knee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' I mysel' were dead and gane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the green grass growing over me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give
+it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating
+to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The
+lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with
+those of Lord Douglas.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_1" id="Note_Waly_Waly_1"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_1">1.</a> <b>waly.</b> An interjection denoting grief.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_2" id="Note_Waly_Waly_2"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_2">2.</a> <b>brae.</b> Hillside.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_3" id="Note_Waly_Waly_3"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_3">3.</a> <b>burn-side.</b> Brook-side.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_4" id="Note_Waly_Waly_4"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_4">4.</a> <b>syne.</b> Then.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_5" id="Note_Waly_Waly_5"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_5">5.</a> <b>lichtlie.</b> Slight, undervalue.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_6" id="Note_Waly_Waly_6"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_6">6.</a> <b>busk.</b> Dress.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_7" id="Note_Waly_Waly_7"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_7">7.</a> <b>Arthur's Seat.</b> A hill near Edinburgh, at the foot of which is St.
+Anthony's well.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>[<a href="./images/255.png">255</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>SIR PATRICK SPENS.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Scottish Ballad.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang">[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should
+have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland about 1285.]</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The king sits in Dunfermline town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Drinking the blude-red wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O whare will I get a skeely skipper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sail this new ship of mine!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O up and spake an eldern knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat at the king's right knee,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ever sail'd the sea."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our king has written a braid letter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seal'd it with his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking on the strand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To Noroway, to Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To Noroway o'er the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king's daughter of Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis thou maun bring her hame."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The first word that Sir Patrick read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sae loud, loud laughed he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The neist word that Sir Patrick read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tear blinded his e'e.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O wha is this has done this deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tauld the king o' me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To send us out, at this time of the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sail upon the sea?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>[<a href="./images/256.png">256</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our ship must sail the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king's daughter of Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis we must fetch her hame."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' a' the speed they may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hae landed in Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon a Wodensday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They hadna been a week, a week,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Noroway, but twae,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that the lords o' Noroway<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Began aloud to say,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a' our queenis fee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fu' loud I hear ye lie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For I brought as much white monie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As gane my men and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out o'er the sea wi' me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our gude ship sails the morn."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now, ever alake, my master dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear a deadly storm!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' the auld moon in her arm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, if we gang to sea, master,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear we'll come to harm."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>[<a href="./images/257.png">257</a>]</span><span class="i0">They had not sailed a league, a league,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A league but barely three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gurly grew the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was sic a deadly storm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till a' her sides were torn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O where will I get a gude sailor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take my helm in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I get up to the tall top-mast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see if I can spy land?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O here am I, a sailor gude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take the helm in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till you go up to the tall top-mast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He hadna gane a step, a step,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A step but barely ane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the salt sea it came in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another o' the twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wap them into our ship's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And let na the sea come in."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They fetched a web o' the silken claith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another of the twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wapped them round that gude ship's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But still the sea came in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>[<a href="./images/258.png">258</a>]</span><span class="i0">O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lang or a' the play was play'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They wat their hats aboon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And mony was the feather-bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That flattered on the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mony was the gude lord's son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That never mair cam hame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ladyes wrang their fingers white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The maidens tore their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A' for the sake of their true loves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For them they'll see na mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' their fans into their hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before they see Sir Patrick Spens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come sailing to the strand!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A' waiting for their ain dear loves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For them they'll see na mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O forty miles off Aberdeen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis fifty fathoms deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES AND GLOSSARY.</h3>
+
+<p>This ballad in its original form is a very old one, and was probably at
+first a metrical story of the Scotch expedition which was sent to bring
+the Maid of Norway to Scotland (about the year 1285). In its
+sixteenth-century <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>[<a href="./images/259.png">259</a>]</span>form it shows many changes and additions, some of
+which are not in harmony with the original tale. The <i>cork-heel'd
+shoon</i>, for example, were unknown until some hundreds of years later
+than the occurrence of the events here narrated.</p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for Sir Patrick Spens" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>skeely</b>, skilful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gane</b>, suffice.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>skipper</b>, captain.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>half-fou</b>, a quart, dry measure.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>braid</b>, open, not private.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>alake</b>, alack.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>goud</b>, gold.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lift</b>, sky. (Still used in Scotland.)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 4em;"><b>fee</b> (see note 13, page <a href="#Page_105">105</a>).</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>shoon</b>, shoes.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he was a squires son;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lived in Islington.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet she was coye, and would not believe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he did love her soe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Noe nor at any time would she<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Any countenance to him showe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when his friendes did understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His fond and foolish minde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sent him up to faire London,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An apprentice for to binde.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when he had been seven long yeares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And never his love could see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Many a teare have I shed for her sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When she little thought of mee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then all the maids of Islington<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Went forth to sport and playe,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>[<a href="./images/260.png">260</a>]</span><span class="i0">All but the bayliffes daughter deare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She secretly stole awaye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She pulled off her gowne of greene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And put on ragged attire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to faire London she would go<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her true love to enquire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And as she went along the high road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weather being hot and drye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sat her downe upon a green bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And her true love came riding bye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She started up, with a colour soe redd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Catching hold of his bridle-reine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Will ease me of much paine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Praye tell me where you were borne."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Where I have had many a scorne."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O tell me, whether you knowe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bayliffes daughter of Islington."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"She is dead, sir, long agoe."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If she be dead, then take my horse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My saddle and bridle also;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I will into some farr countrye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where noe man shall me knowe."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>[<a href="./images/261.png">261</a>]</span><span class="i0">"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She standeth by thy side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She is here alive, she is not dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And readye to be thy bride."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ten thousand times therefore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom I thought I should never see more."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are twelve months in all the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As I hear many say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the merriest month in all the year<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the merry month of May.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down, and a day</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met a silly old woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was weeping on the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What news? what news? thou silly old woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What news hast thou for me?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day condemned to die."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Or have they ministers slain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or have they robbed any virgin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or other men's wives have ta'en?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>[<a href="./images/262.png">262</a>]</span><span class="i0">"They have no parishes burnt, good sir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet have ministers slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor have they robbed any virgin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor other men's wives have ta'en."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I pray thee tell to me."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bearing their long bows with thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"How thou madest me sup and dine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"You could not tell it in better time."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down, and a day</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met with a silly old palmer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking along the highway.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What news? what news? thou silly old man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What news, I do thee pray?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are condemn'd to die this day."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come change thy apparel with me, old man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come change thy apparel for mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is ten shillings in good silv&egrave;r,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go drink it in beer or wine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, thine apparel is good," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And mine is ragged and torn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherever you go, wherever you ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Laugh not an old man to scorn."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>[<a href="./images/263.png">263</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come change thy apparel with mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is a piece of good broad gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go feast thy brethren with wine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's hat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It stood full high on the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The first bold bargain that I come at,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It shall make thee come down."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's cloak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was patch'd black, blue, and red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thought it no shame, all the day long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wear the bags of bread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's breeks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was patch'd from leg to side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"This man loved little pride."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's hose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were patch'd from knee to wrist:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I'd laugh if I had any list."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's shoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were patch'd both beneath and aboon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"It's good habit that makes a man."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down and a down</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met with the proud sheriff,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking along the town.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>[<a href="./images/264.png">264</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now heaven you save and see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what will you give to a silly old man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day will your hangman be?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Some suits I'll give to thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day's a hangman's fee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Robin he turns him round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And jumps from stock to stone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet intends to trade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But curst be he," said bold Robin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That first a hangman was made!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a bag for barley and corn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bag for bread, and a bag for beef,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a bag for my little small horn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I have a horn in my pock&egrave;t,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I got it from Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still when I set it to my mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For thee it blows little good."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, wind thy horn, thou proud fell&ograve;w!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of thee I have no doubt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wish that thou give such a blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till both thy eyes fall out."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>[<a href="./images/265.png">265</a>]</span><span class="i0">The first loud blast that he did blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He blew both loud and shrill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came riding over the hill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The next loud blast that he did give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He blew both loud and amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came shining over the plain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, who are these," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Come tripping over the lee?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"They'll pay a visit to thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They took the gallows from the slack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They set it in the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hanged the proud sher&igrave;ff on that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Released their own three men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Among the earliest and most popular of English ballads are those
+relating to Robin Hood. This noted, half-mythical outlaw was the
+impersonation of popular rights as they were understood by Englishmen of
+the lower orders in the days of the Plantagenets. Hence the memory of
+him and his reputed deeds was preserved in the songs of the people. "It
+is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to
+celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers,
+interests them more than any other." Even so late as the reign of Edward
+VI., "Robyn Hoode's Daye" was very generally observed in the country
+parishes as a day of feasting and amusement.</p>
+
+<p>The ballads were originally the production of wandering minstrels or
+gleemen, a class of men very popular in the Middle Ages, who followed
+the profession of poetry and music. These rude poets were held in the
+highest esteem and veneration by the people among whom they lived; they
+were received and welcomed wherever they went, and even kings delighted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a>[<a href="./images/266.png">266</a>]</span>to honor them. In short, their art was supposed, by the Anglo-Saxons,
+to be of divine origin, having been invented by Odin, the great
+All-Father, and perfected by Bragi, the musician of the gods. As,
+however, civilization advanced and Christianity became established, this
+admiration for the minstrel and his art became modified in a degree. He
+was no longer regarded as a poet, but only as a singer, a sweet
+musician. Poetry was cultivated by men of leisure and refinement; but
+lyrical ballads remained the peculiar inheritance of the minstrel. For a
+long time after the Norman conquest, minstrels continued to gain their
+livelihood by singing in the houses of the great, and at festive
+occasions, which were never considered complete unless graced by the
+presence of these honored descendants of Bragi; nor did they cease to
+compose and sing their inimitable pieces until near the close of
+Elizabeth's reign. The greater number of the ballads now in existence
+were probably produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and
+the best of them originated in the "North Country," or the border region
+between England and Scotland. They were not at first reduced to writing,
+but were handed down from one generation to another merely by oral
+tradition. As regards their metre and versification, the ballads were
+commonly composed of iambic hexameters or heptameters rhyming in
+couplets. These couplets are readily broken into stanzas of four lines,
+in which form they are usually printed.</p>
+
+<p>The first collection of English ballads ever published was probably that
+of John Dryden, in 1684. The collection was included in a volume
+entitled <i>Miscellany Poems</i>. In 1723 a work called <i>A Collection of Old
+Ballads</i> was published anonymously. In 1724 Allan Ramsay issued <i>The
+Evergreen</i>, "being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious
+before 1600." This work included many popular songs and ballads. It was
+reprinted in 1875.</p>
+
+<p>We owe the preservation of a large number of the most interesting and
+beautiful ballads to Bishop Percy, who, in 1765, published the first
+really valuable collection of such works in his <i>Reliques of Ancient
+English Poetry</i>. Previous to that time most of these songs had existed
+only in manuscript, or, if printed at all, in the cheapest style of
+typography, on sheets designed for circulation among the poor. Bishop
+Percy's work first called the attention of scholars to the value and
+beauty of these neglected and half-forgotten relics, and did much to
+bring about that revolution in literature which took place in the latter
+part of the last century. And it is to these old ballads, thus rescued
+from oblivion, that we owe very many of the noblest literary productions
+of the present century. We know that they were the immediate inspiration
+of Sir Walter Scott, and that they exerted a wonderful influence in
+modifying and directing the taste and style of many other distinguished
+writers.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a>[<a href="./images/267.png">267</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Fifteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>When we pass from Chaucer's age, we have to overleap nearly a hundred
+and eighty years before we alight upon a period presenting anything like
+an adequate show of literary continuation. A few smaller names are all
+that can be cited as poetical representatives of this sterile interval
+in the literary history of England: whatever of Chaucer's genius still
+lingered in the island seeming to have travelled northward and taken
+refuge in a series of Scotch poets, excelling any of their English
+contemporaries. We are driven to suppose that there was something in the
+social circumstances of England during the long period in question which
+prevented such talent as there was from assuming the particular form of
+literature. Fully to make out what this 'something' was may baffle us;
+but, when we remember that this was the period of the Civil Wars of the
+Roses, we have reason to believe that the dearth of pure literature may
+have been owing, in part, to the engrossing nature of the practical
+questions which then disturbed English society.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Accordingly, though
+printing was introduced during this period, and thus Englishmen had
+greater temptations to write, what they did write was almost exclusively
+plain grave prose, intended for practical or polemical occasions, and
+making no figure in a historical retrospect.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">David Masson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>Must we quote all these good people who have nothing to say? .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming
+chroniclers, most commonplace of men; spinners and spinsters of didactic
+poems who pile up verses on the training of falcons, on heraldry, on
+chemistry, .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. invent the same dream over again for the hundredth time,
+and get themselves taught universal history by the goddess Sapience.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+It is the scholastic phase of poetry.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>[<a href="./images/268.png">268</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Fifteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p><b>John Lydgate</b> (1370-1440). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Thomas Occleve</b> (1365-1450). "De Regimine Principum"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p><b>Robert Henryson</b> (1425-1480). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>William Dunbar</b> (1450-1513). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Gawain Douglas</b> (1474-1522). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Stephen Hawes</b> (&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-1530), "The Pastime of Pleasure"; "Graunde Amour and la
+Belle Pucel."</p>
+
+<p><b>John Skelton</b> (1460-1529). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>[<a href="./images/269.png">269</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Skelton.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mydsomer flowre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentill as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With solace and gladnes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moche mirthe and no madness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All good and no badness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So joyously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So maydenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So womanly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her demenyng<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In every thynge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far passynge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I can endyght,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or suffyce to wryghte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mydsomer flowre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentyll as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As pacient and as styll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as full of good wyll<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As faire Isaphill;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>[<a href="./images/270.png">270</a>]</span><span class="i1">Colyaunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Swete pomaunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Goode Cassaunder;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stedfast of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wele made, wele wrought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far may be sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Erst that ye can fynde<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So corteise, so kynde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This mydsomer floure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentyll as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CARDINAL WOLSEY.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?"]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is set so hye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his ierarchye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of frantike frenesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And folish fantasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in chambre of stars<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al maters ther he mars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clapping his rod on the borde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No man dare speake a worde:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hath al the saying<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without any renaying.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rolleth in his Recordes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is not my reason good?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good!&mdash;even good&mdash;<i>Robin Hood</i>!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>[<a href="./images/271.png">271</a>]</span><span class="i0">Borne up on every syde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pompe and with pryde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With trump up alleluya,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For dame Philargyria<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath so his hart in hold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adew, Philosophia!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adew, Theologia!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Welcome, dame Simonia,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dame Castamergia,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drink and for to eate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweete ipocras<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" class="marker">6</a> and sweete meate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To keep his fleshe chaste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Lente, for his repaste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He eateth capons stewed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fesaunt and partriche mewed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spareth neither mayd ne wife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is a postel's<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" class="marker">7</a> life!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1">1.</a> <b>chambre of stars.</b> The Star Chamber, a court of civil and criminal
+jurisdiction for the punishment of offences for which the law made no
+provision. It was so called because the ceiling of the room in which it
+was held was decorated with gilt stars.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2">2.</a> <b>alleluya.</b> In allusion to the pomp with which Wolsey celebrated divine
+service.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3">3.</a> <b>Philargyria.</b> Love of money; covetousness.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4">4.</a> <b>Simonia.</b> Simony; buying and selling church livings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5">5.</a> <b>Castamergia.</b> Gluttony. Greek <i>kastrimargia</i>. A not uncommon word
+among the monks of the Middle Ages, one of whose prayers was, "From the
+spirit of castrimargia, O Lord, deliver us!"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6">6.</a> <b>ipocras.</b> Hippocras, or spiced wine, a drink formerly very popular in
+England. It was made by mixing Canary and Lisbon wines, in equal parts,
+with various kinds of sweet spices, and allowing the whole to stand for
+a few days, after which the wine was poured off and sweetened with
+sugar.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7">7.</a> <b>postel.</b> Apostle&mdash;here ironically applied to Wolsey.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>[<a href="./images/272.png">272</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Skelton</span> was born about the year 1460. In his earlier life he was
+the friend of Caxton, the first English printer, and of Percy, Earl of
+Northumberland. He was poet-laureate under Henry VII., and tutor of the
+young prince (afterwards Henry VIII.), and was described by Erasmus as
+<i>litterarum Anglicarum lumen et decus</i>. Later in life he was promoted to
+the rectory of Diss in Norfolk, but was severely censured by his bishop
+for his buffooneries in the pulpit and his satirical ballads against the
+mendicants. He finally became a hanger-on about the court of Henry
+VIII.; and, daring to write a rhyming libel on Cardinal Wolsey, was
+driven to take refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. There he
+was kindly entertained and protected by Abbot Islip until his death in
+1529. Some of his poems were printed in 1512, and others in 1568.</p>
+
+<p>Taine calls Skelton "a virulent pamphleteer, who jumbles together
+French, English, Latin phrases, with slang and fashionable words,
+invented words, intermingled with short rhymes. Style, metre, rhyme,
+language, art of every kind, at an end; beneath the vain parade of
+official style there is only a heap of rubbish. Yet, as he says,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Though my rhyme be ragged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Tatter'd and jagged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rudely rain-beaten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rusty, moth-eaten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yf ye take welle therewithe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">It hath in it some pithe.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>As to the coarseness which characterizes his verses, it cannot be
+explained by saying that it is a reflection of the manners of the times
+in which he lived. For, as Warton says, Skelton "would have been a
+writer without decorum at any period." Yet, notwithstanding his faults,
+he is deserving of our notice, if for nothing else, on account of the
+complete originality of his style&mdash;a style unknown and unattempted by
+any former writer. His bold departure from the accepted rules of
+versification showed to those who followed him some of the possibilities
+in English poetical composition, and helped to open the way to the great
+outburst of song which followed.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>[<a href="./images/273.png">273</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Selections from Four Minor Poets.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A VISIT TO LONDON.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> JOHN LYDGATE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then unto London I dyd me hye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the land it beareth the pryse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hot pescodes," one began to crye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One bade me come nere and by some spyce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peper and safforne they gan me bede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I myght not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where mutch people I saw for to stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An other he taketh me by the hande,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never was used to such thyngs indede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wanting mony, I might not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then went I forth by London stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then comes me one, cryed, "Hot shepes feete";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cryde "makerell," "ryshes grene," an other gan greete;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>[<a href="./images/274.png">274</a>]</span><span class="i0">One bad me by a hood to cover my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for want of mony I myght not be sped.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I myght not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw where honge myne owne hoode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I had lost amonge the thronge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To by my own hood I thought it wronge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew it well as I dyd my crede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I could not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The taverner tooke me by the sleve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay"?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I answered, "That can not mutch me greve:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A peny can do no more than it may";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one cryed, "Hoo! go we hence!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he wold spare me my expence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under two pence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>[<a href="./images/275.png">275</a>]</span><span class="i0">Then I convayd me into Kent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of the law wold I meddle no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because no man to me tooke entent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dyght me to do as I dyd before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>From "London Lickpenny."</i></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A Visit to London" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>anone</b>, at once.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hyed</b>, hurried.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>assay</b>, try.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lyst</b>, wish.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bede</b>, offer.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mede</b>, reward, wages.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 4em;"><b>Chepe</b>, the market. Cheapside, still a</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pescodes</b>, pease.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-left: 2em;">famous street in London.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ryse</b>, bough or twig.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>dyght</b>, disposed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ryshes</b>, rushes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gere</b>, apparel.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spede</b>, proceed, do.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>greete</b>, cry out.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yede</b>, went.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE GOLDEN AGE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rightwisenes chastised al robbours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By egall balaunce of execucion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fraud, fals&euml; mede, put backward fro jurours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True promes holde, made no delacioun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forswearing shamed durst enter in no toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor lesingmongers, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That golden world could lov&euml; God and drede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the seven dedes of mercy for to use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rich was ready to do alm&euml;s dede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who asked harbour, men did him not refuse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No man of malice would other tho accuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a>[<a href="./images/276.png">276</a>]</span><span class="i0">Defame his neighbour, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The true marchant by measure bought and sold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deceipt was none in the artificer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making no balkes, the plough was truely hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abacke stode Idlenes, farre from labourer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discrecion marcial at diner and supper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Content with measure, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of wast in clothing was that time none excesse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men might the lord from his subject&euml;s know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A difference made twene povertie and richesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twene a princesse and other stat&euml;s lowe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horned boast&euml;s no boast was tho blowe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor counterfeit feining, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This golden world long whyl&euml; dyd endure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was none allay in that metall sene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tyll Saturne ceased, by record of scripture,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jupiter reygned, put out his father clene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chaunged obrison into silver shene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al up so downe, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was set asyde, and loste her governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>"The Falls of Princes," from which this is an extract, was printed in
+folio in 1558. Its complete title is, "The Tragedies gathered by Jhon
+Bochas of all such Princes as fell from theyr Estates throughe the
+Mutability of Fortune since the creation of Adam until his time; wherin
+may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable
+warninges howe the like may be avoyded. Translated into English by John
+Lidgate, Monke of Burye."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>[<a href="./images/277.png">277</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE GARMOND OF FAIR LADIES.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> ROBERT HENRYSON.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wald my gud lady lufe me best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wirk eftir my will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I suld ane Garmond gudliest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gar mak hir body till.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Off hie honour suld be hir hud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upoun hir heid to weir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Garneist with governance so gud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Na demyng suld hir deir.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of chestetie so quhyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With schame and dreid togidder mixt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The same suld be perfyt.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir kirtill suld be of clene constance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lasit with lesum lufe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mailyheis of continuance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For nevir to remufe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir gown suld be of gudliness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weill ribband with renowne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Purfillit with plesour in ilk place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Furrit with fyne fassoun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir belt suld be of benignitie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">About hir middill meit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir mantill of humilitie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tholl bayth wind and weit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a>[<a href="./images/278.png">278</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hir hat suld be of fair having<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And her tepat of trewth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir patelet of gude pansing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hir hals-ribbane of rewth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir slevis suld be of esperance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keip hir fra dispair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hyd hir fyngearis fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir schone suld be of sickernes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In syne that scho nocht slyd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I suld for hir provyd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wald scho put on this Garmond gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I durst sweir by my seill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That scho woir nevir grene nor gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That set hir half so weill.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A Visit to London" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>esperance</b>, hope.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>patelet</b>, ruffet.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fassoun</b>, manners.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhyt</b>, white.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>garmond</b>, garment, costume.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rewth</b>, pity.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>governance</b>, discretion.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sark</b>, shirt, chemise.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hals-ribbane</b>, neck-ribbon.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>scho</b>, she.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hoiss</b>, hose.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>schone</b>, shoes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hud</b>, hood.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>seill</b>, knowledge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kirtill</b>, skirt.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>set</b>, suited.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lasit</b>, fastened.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sickernes</b>, security.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lesum</b>, lawful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>suld</b>, should.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lufe</b>, love.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tepat</b>, tippet.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mailyheis</b>, eyelet-holes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tholl</b>, withstand.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pansing</b>, thought.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weit</b>, rain.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>[<a href="./images/279.png">279</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>A MAY MORNING.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> WILLIAM DUNBAR.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In at the window lukit by the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">S&eacute; hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slugird, scho said, awalk annone for schame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>[<a href="./images/280.png">280</a>]</span><span class="i0">Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then callit scho all flouris that grew on feild<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upone the awfull Thrissil scho beheld<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Considering him so able for the weiris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Compair hir to the lilleis nobilness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Considring that no flour is so perfyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So full of vertew, pleasans, and delyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So full of blisful angeilik bewty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imperiall birth, honour and dignit&eacute;.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>This is a selection from the long allegorical poem, "The Thistle and the
+Rose." The thistle represents Scotland, of which country that plant is
+the national emblem. The fleur-de-lis, or lily, represents France; and
+the rose, England. The poem was written in celebration of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret of England, and the
+friendly relations thus established for a time between those two
+countries.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>[<a href="./images/281.png">281</a>]</span></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A May Morning" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>denty</b>, favor.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>muddir</b>, mother.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>effeiris</b>, affairs.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>orient</b>, eastern.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ene</b>, eyes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhen</b>, when.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fallow</b>, betroth.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhois</b>, whose.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>forgit</b>, made, created.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhyll</b>, while.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gife</b>, if.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rois</b>, rose.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halsit</b>, hailed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sic</b>, such.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>houris</b>, morning orisons.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>speiris</b>, spears.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>laif</b>, rest.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>splene</b>, heart.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lemys</b>, rays.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>thrissil</b>, thistle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lukit</b>, looked.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>udir</b>, other.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>mansuetude</b>, gentleness.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weid</b>, garments.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>morrow</b>, morning.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weiris</b>, wars.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>IN PRAISE OF HONOUR.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> GAWAIN DOUGLAS.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour degest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hie renoun thow art guerdoun conding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of worschip kend the glorious end and rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pouerall to mekill auaill sone bring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I the require sen thow but peir art best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He docht richt nocht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy name but blame, and royal fame diuine is;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>[<a href="./images/282.png">282</a>]</span><span class="i0">Thow port at schort of our comfort and reid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O schene I mene, nane may sustene thy feid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Haill rois maist chois till clois thy fois greit micht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haill stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was ay ilk day gar say the way of licht;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till be supplie, and the high gre of price.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I apply schortlie to thy deuise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>From "The Palice of Honour."</i></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for In Praise of Honour" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>afoir</b>, before.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>guerdoun</b>, reward.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>auance</b>, advance.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ilk</b>, any.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ay</b>, ever, always.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mekill</b>, much, mickle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>but</b>, without.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>peir</b>, peer.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>conding</b>, condign, worthy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>poureall</b>, the poor.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>crynis</b>, diminishes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>puissance</b>, power.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>deid</b>, death.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhilk</b>, who, which.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>degest</b>, grave.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhome</b>, without whom.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>dicht</b>, relieve.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reid</b>, advice.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>docht</b>, avails.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rois</b>, king.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>feid</b>, hatred.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sanct</b>, saint.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fois</b>, time.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>site</b>, shame.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>glaiding</b>, happiness.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>till</b>, to.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gloir</b>, glory.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tite</b>, quickly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>grant</b>, giving.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tynis</b>, loses.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gre</b>, degree.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wicht</b>, person, wight.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>[<a href="./images/283.png">283</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>FOUR POETS OF THIS CENTURY.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Lydgate</span> was born at the village of Lydgate, near Newmarket, about
+1370. He was a Benedictine monk attached to the monastery of Bury St.
+Edmunds, and is remembered as the author of three poems, which, in their
+time, attracted much attention. These are "The Storie of Thebes,"
+written in ten-syllable rhyming couplets, and founded upon the "Teseide"
+of Boccaccio; the "Troye Book," finished about 1420, and relating the
+story of the Trojan war as recounted by Guido di Colonna in his Latin
+prose history of Troy; and "The Falls of Princes," founded on a French
+version of Boccaccio's "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium." In 1433, Lydgate
+wrote a wearisome but somewhat amusing poem, "Pur le Roy," describing a
+visit to London, and the pageants, processions, and other rejoicings, on
+the occasion of the entrance of Henry VI. into the city after his
+coronation. The date of the poet's death is not exactly known, but it
+was probably not later than 1440.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Henryson</span>, "an accomplished man and a good and genuine poet," was
+born about the year 1425, and died near the close of the century. He was
+for a time a schoolmaster and notary public at Dunfermline, in Scotland,
+and was connected, in some capacity, with the University of Glasgow. He
+was probably, like Lydgate, a Benedictine monk. His principal works are
+"The Testament of Cresseid," a sequel to Chaucer's "Troilus and
+Cresseide," and a collection of thirteen fables. He wrote also many
+shorter poems, of which the ballad of "Robin and Makyne" (published in
+Percy's <i>Reliques</i>) is the best known.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Dunbar</span> was born in East Lothian, Scotland, about the year 1450.
+He was educated at the University of St. Andrews, and in early life
+travelled somewhat extensively as a novitiate of the order of St.
+Francis. He visited England in 1501, upon the occasion of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry
+VII. One of his best poems, "The Thistle and the Rose," was written in
+commemoration of that event. He accompanied the queen to Aberdeen in
+1511, and for some time, both before and after, was in attendance and
+favor at the Scotch court. Nothing is known of his death, but it has
+been conjectured <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a>[<a href="./images/284.png">284</a>]</span>that he fell in the battle of Flodden, in 1513.
+Besides the poem just mentioned, he wrote "The Golden Targe," "The Dance
+of the Deadly Sins," and many shorter poems, most of which are
+allegories. The "Thistle and the Rose" has been pronounced "the happiest
+political allegory in our language. Heraldry has never been more
+skilfully handled, nor compliments more gracefully paid, nor fidelity
+more persuasively preached to a monarch than in this poem."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Gawain Douglas</span> was a son of the famous Earl of Angus, and was born in
+Brechin, Scotland, about 1474. He was educated partly at the University
+of St. Andrews, and partly in Paris. His first considerable poem, "The
+Palice of Honour," was published in 1501, and dedicated to King James
+IV. It is an allegory, such as was at that time the staple of poetical
+composition, and contains but little that is particularly original.
+Another allegory, printed after his death, is entitled "King Hart," and
+has for its subject the heart of man. His greatest work is his
+translation of Virgil's "&AElig;neid" into Scottish verse. In 1509, Douglas
+was appointed provost of St. Giles, Edinburgh, and after the battle of
+Flodden he was made abbot of Aberbrothwick. In 1515 he was consecrated
+Bishop of Dunkeld, but was unable to gain possession of the cathedral
+except by force. Becoming involved in the feud between the rival
+families of Angus and Hamilton, he was obliged to escape into England in
+1521, where towards the end of the same year he died.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>[<a href="./images/285.png">285</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Fourteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>In the fourteenth century there comes an Englishman nourished on this
+[the romance] poetry, taught his trade by this poetry, getting words,
+rhyme, metre from this poetry; for even of that stanza which the
+Italians used, and which Chaucer derived immediately from the Italians,
+the basis and suggestion was probably given in France.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. If we ask
+ourselves wherein consists the immense superiority of Chaucer's poetry
+over the [earlier] romance-poetry, why it is that in passing from this
+to Chaucer we suddenly feel ourselves to be in another world, we shall
+find that his superiority is both in the substance of his poetry and in
+the style of his poetry. His superiority in substance is given by his
+large, free, simple, clear yet kindly view of human life.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. We have
+only to call to mind the Prologue to 'The Canterbury Tales.' The right
+comment upon it is Dryden's: 'It is sufficient to say, according to the
+proverb, that </i>here is God's plenty<i>.' And again: 'He is a perpetual
+fountain of good sense.' It is by a large, free, sound representation of
+things, that poetry, this high criticism of life, has truth of
+substance; and Chaucer's poetry has truth of substance. If we think of
+Chaucer's divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity of movement,
+it is difficult to speak temperately. They are irresistible, and justify
+all the rapture with which his successors speak of his gold 'dew-drops
+of speech.' .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Chaucer is the father of our splendid English poetry, he
+is our 'well of English undefiled,' because by the lovely charm of his
+diction, the lovely charm of his movement, he makes an epoch and founds
+a tradition. In Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, we can follow the
+tradition of the liquid diction, the fluid movement, of Chaucer; at one
+time it is his liquid diction of which in these poets we feel the
+virtue, and at another it is his fluid movement. And the virtue is
+irresistible.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>[<a href="./images/286.png">286</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Fourteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p><b>Geoffrey Chaucer</b> (1328-1400). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>William Langland</b> (1332-&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;). "The Vision of William concerning Piers the
+Ploughman."</p>
+
+<p><b>John Gower</b> (1330-1408). "Confessio Amantis."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>[<a href="./images/287.png">287</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Geoffrey Chaucer.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whan that Aprille with his schowr&euml;s swoote<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The drought of Marche had perced to the roote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bathed every veyne in swich licour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which vertue engendred is the flour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whan Zephirus eek with his swet&euml; breethe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enspired hath in every holte and heethe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tendre cropp&euml;s, and the yong&euml; sonne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath in the Ram<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_1" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_1"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_1" class="marker">1</a> his half&euml; cours i-ronne,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_2" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_2"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smal&euml; fowl&euml;s maken melodie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slepen al the night with open eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So priketh hem nature in here corages:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And palmers for to seeken<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_3" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_3"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_3" class="marker">3</a> straung&euml; strondes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fern&euml; halwes, kouthe in sondry londes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And specially, from every schir&euml;s ende<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy blisful martir<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_4" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_4"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_4" class="marker">4</a> for to seeke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_5" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_5"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Byfel that, in that sesoun on a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Southwerk at the Tabard<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_6" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_6"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_6" class="marker">6</a> as I lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>[<a href="./images/288.png">288</a>]</span><span class="i0">At night was come into that hostelrye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel nyne and twenty in a compainye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In felaweschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chambres and the stables<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_7" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_7"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_7" class="marker">7</a> weren wyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wel we wer&euml;n esed att&euml; beste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And schortly, whan the sonn&euml; was to reste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hadde I spoken with hem everychon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I was of here felaweschipe anon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mad&euml; forward erly for to ryse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To take our wey ther as I yow devyse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But nath&euml;les, whil I have tyme and space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_8" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_8"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_8" class="marker">8</a> that I forther in this tal&euml; pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tell&euml; yow al the condicioun<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_9" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_9"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of eche of hem, so as it semede me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whiche they weren, and of what degre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek in what array that they were inne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Knight</span> ther was, and that a worthy man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That from the tym&euml; that he first bigan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_10" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_10"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful worthy was he in his lord&euml;s werre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wel in Cristendom as in heth&euml;nesse,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_11" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_11"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evere honoured for his worthinesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Alisaundre<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_12" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_12"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_12" class="marker">12</a> he was whan it was wonne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful oft&euml; tyme he hadde the bord bygonne<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_13" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_13"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aboven all&euml; naciouns in Pruce.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_14" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_14"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cristen man so ofte of his degre.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>[<a href="./images/289.png">289</a>]</span><span class="i0">In Gernade<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_15" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_15"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_15" class="marker">15</a> att&euml; sieg&euml; hadde he be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whan they were wonne; and in the Greet&euml; see<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_16" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_16"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At many a noble arive hadde he be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And foughten for our feith at Tramassene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lyst&euml;s thri&euml;s, and ay slayn his foo.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This ilk&euml; worthy knight hadde ben also<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somtym&euml; with the lord of Palatye,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_17" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_17"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ageyn another hethen in Turkye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though that he was worthy, he was wys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of his port as meke as is a mayde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_18" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_18"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was a verray perfight gentil knight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for to tellen you of his array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fustyan he werede a gepoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he was late ycome from his viage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And went&euml; for to doon his pilgrimage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With him ther was his sone, a yong <span class="smcap">Squyer</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_19" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_19"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lokk&euml;s crulle as they were leyd in presse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his stature he was of even lengthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And born him wel, as of so litel space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In hope to stonden in his lady grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a>[<a href="./images/290.png">290</a>]</span><span class="i0">Embrowded was he, as it were a mede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al ful of fressh&euml; floures, white and reede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Syngynge he was, or floytynge,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_20" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_20"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_20" class="marker">20</a> al the day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Schort was his goune, with sleev&euml;s longe and wyde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and fair&euml; ryde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cowd&euml; song&euml;s make and wel endite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hote he loved&euml;, that by nightertale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And carf byforn his fader at the table.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Yeman</span> hadde he,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_21" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_21"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_21" class="marker">21</a> and servaunts nomoo<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At that tyme, for him lust&euml; ryd&euml; soo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A shef of pocok arw&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_22" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_22"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_22" class="marker">22</a> brighte and kene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wood&euml;-craft wel cowde he al the usage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_23" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_23"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_23" class="marker">23</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on that other side a gay daggere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Cristofre<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_24" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_24"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_24" class="marker">24</a> on his brest of silver schene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ther was also a Nonne, a <span class="smcap">Prioresse</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_25" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_25"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_25" class="marker">25</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a>[<a href="./images/291.png">291</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Ful wel sche sang the servis&euml; divyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entuned in hire nose ful sem&euml;ly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After the scole of Stratford att&euml; Bowe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At met&euml; wel i-taught was sche withalle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche leet no morsel from hire lipp&euml;s falle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne wette hire fyngres in hire sauc&euml; deepe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That no drop&euml; ne fille upon hire breste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hire overlipp&euml; wypede sche so clene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in hire cupp&euml; was no ferthing sene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of grec&euml;, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful sem&euml;ly after hir mete sche raughte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sikerly sche was of gret disport,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_26" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_26"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And peynede hir to countrefet&euml; cheere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to ben holden digne of reverence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for to speken of hir conscience,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche was so charitable and so pitous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche wold&euml; weepe if that sche saw a mous<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smal&euml; hound&euml;s hadde sche, that sche fedde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if men<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_27" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_27"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_27" class="marker">27</a> smot it with a yerd&euml; smerte:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And al was conscience and tendre herte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful sem&euml;ly hire wympel i-pynched was;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir nose tretys; hir ey&euml;n greye as glas;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>[<a href="./images/292.png">292</a>]</span><span class="i0">It was almost a spann&euml; brood, I trowe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hardily sche was not undergrowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A peire of bed&euml;s gauded al with grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which was first i-write a crown&euml;d A,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after, <i>Amor vincit omnia.</i><a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_28" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_28"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another <span class="smcap">Nonne</span> with hir hadd&euml; sche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was hir chapeleyne,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_29" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_29"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_29" class="marker">29</a> and <span class="smcap">Prestes</span> thre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Monk</span> ther was, a fair for the maistry&euml;,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_30" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_30"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_30" class="marker">30</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An out-rydere, that loved&euml; venery&euml;;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A manly man, to ben an abbot able.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful many a deynt&eacute; hors hadde he in stable:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This ilk&euml; monk leet old&euml; thing&euml;s pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And held after the new&euml; world the space.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He yaf nat of that text a pull&euml;d hen,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_31" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_31"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne that a monk, whan he is recch&euml;les<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is likned to a fissch that is waterles<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_32" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_32"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_32" class="marker">32</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thilk&euml; text held he not worth an oystre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I seide his opinioun was good.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_33" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_33"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_33" class="marker">33</a> schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_34" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_34"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or swynk&euml; with his hand&euml;s, and laboure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Austyn bit? How schal the world be serv&euml;d?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>[<a href="./images/293.png">293</a>]</span><span class="i0">Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserv&euml;d.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therfor he was a pricasour aright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_35" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_35"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_35" class="marker">35</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saugh his slev&euml;s purfiled att&euml; honde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for to festne his hood under his chynne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ey&euml;n steepe, and rollyng in his heede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stem&euml;de as a forneys of a leede;<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_36" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_36"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_36" class="marker">36</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His boot&euml;s souple, his hors in gret estat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now certeinly he was a fair prelat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Frere</span> there was, a wantown and a merye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lymytour,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_37" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_37"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_37" class="marker">37</a> a ful solempn&euml; man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In alle the ordres foure<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_38" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_38"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_38" class="marker">38</a> is noon that can<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yong&euml; wymmen, at his ow&euml;n cost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto his ordre he was a noble post.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_39" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_39"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_39" class="marker">39</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful wel biloved and famulier was he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With frankeleyns<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_40" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_40"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_40" class="marker">40</a> over-al in his cuntre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek with worthy wommen of the toun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hadde power of confessioun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As seyde himself, mor&euml; than a curat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of his ordre he was licentiat.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_41" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_41"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_41" class="marker">41</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>[<a href="./images/294.png">294</a>]</span><span class="i0">Ful swet&euml;ly herde he confessioun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plesaunt was his absolucioun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was an esy man to yeve penaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther as he wist&euml; han<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_42" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_42"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_42" class="marker">42</a> a good pitaunce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For unto a poure ordre for to yive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is sign&euml; that a man is wel i-schrive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if he yaf, he dorst&euml; make avaunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wist&euml; that a man was repentaunt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many a man so hard is of his herte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may not wepe although him sor&euml; smerte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_43" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_43"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_43" class="marker">43</a> moot yive silver to the pour&euml; freres.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His typet was ay fars&euml;d ful of knyfes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pynn&euml;s, for to yiv&euml; fair&euml; wyfes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certeynly he hadde a mery note;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His nekk&euml; whit was as the flour-de-lys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therto he strong was as a champioun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And everych hostiler and tappestere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For unto such a worthy man as he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acorded not, as by his facult&eacute;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To han with sik&euml; lazars aqueyntaunce.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not honest, it may not avaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For to delen with no such poraille,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_44" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_44"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_44" class="marker">44</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was the best&euml; beggere in his hous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though a widewe hadd&euml; noght oo schoo,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>[<a href="./images/295.png">295</a>]</span><span class="i0">So plesaunt was his <i>In principio</i>,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_45" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_45"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_45" class="marker">45</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His purchas<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_46" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_46"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_46" class="marker">46</a> was wel better than his rente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lov&euml;-day&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_47" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_47"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_47" class="marker">47</a> couthe he mochel helpe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ther he was not lik a cloysterer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he was lik a maister or a pope.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of double worsted was his semy-cope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That rounded as a belle out of the presse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ey&euml;n twynkled in his heed aright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As don the sterr&euml;s in the frosty night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Marchaunt</span> was ther with a fork&euml;d berd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In mott&euml;leye, and hign on hors he sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His bot&euml;s clapsed faire and fetysly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His resons he spak ful solempn&euml;ly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wolde the see were kept for<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_48" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_48"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_48" class="marker">48</a> eny thinge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betwix&euml; Middelburgh and Or&euml;welle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel couthe he in eschaung&euml; scheeld&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_49" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_49"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_49" class="marker">49</a> selle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther wist&euml; no wight that he was in dette,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So estatly was he of governaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sothe he was a worthy man withalle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Clerk</span> ther was of Oxenford<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_50" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_50"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_50" class="marker">50</a> also,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That unto logik hadd&euml; longe i-go.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>[<a href="./images/296.png">296</a>]</span><span class="i0">As len&euml; was his hors as is a rake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was not right<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_51" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_51"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_51" class="marker">51</a> fat, I undertake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lok&euml;de holwe, and therto soberly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hadde geten him yit no benefice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne was so worldly for to have office.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him was levere have at his bedd&euml;s heede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twenty book&euml;s, clad in blak or reede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Aristotle and his philosophy&euml;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then rob&euml;s riche, or fithel, or gay sawtry&euml;.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_52" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_52"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_52" class="marker">52</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al be that he was a philosophre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet hadd&euml; he but litel gold in cofre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al that he mighte of his frend&euml;s hente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On book&euml;s and on lernyng he it spente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And busily gan for the soul&euml;s preye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of studie took he most cure and most heede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not oo word spak he mor&euml; than was neede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that was seid in forme and reverence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sownynge<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_53" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_53"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_53" class="marker">53</a> in moral vertu was his speche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for Prologue to the Canterbury Tales" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ageyn</b>, against.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kouthe</b>, known.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>arive</b>, disembarkment.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>leede</b>, cauldron.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>aventure</b>, chance.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>leste</b>, pleasure.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ay</b>, always.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>levere</b>, rather.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bar</b>, bore.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lipsede</b>, lisped.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bawdrick</b>, baldric.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>luste</b>, pleased.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ben</b>, to be.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maistrye</b>, mastery.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bit</b>, biddeth.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maner</b>, kind.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>byfel</b>, it happened.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mede</b>, meadow.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bysmotered</b>, smutted.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mete</b>, meals, eating.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>carf</b>, carved.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>motteleye</b>, mixed colors.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cheere</b>, manner.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>nightertale</b>, night-time.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>chevysaunce</b>, loans, bargains.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>noon</b>, not one, not at all.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>chivachye</b>, military expedition.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>not-heed</b>, shorn-head.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>clapsed</b>, clasped.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pace</b>, pass.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cleped</b>, called.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>peyned</b>, took pains.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>clerk</b>, a scholar.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pitous</b>, full of pity.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>corage</b>, heart.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pocok</b>, peacock.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>[<a href="./images/297.png">297</a>]</span><b>courtepy</b>, cloak.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>poraille</b>, poor folks.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cowde</b>, knew.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pricasour</b>, hard rider.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>crulle</b>, curled.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>priketh</b>, incites, spurs.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cure</b>, care.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>prys</b>, reputation, worth.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>delyver</b>, active.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>purfiled</b>, embroidered.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>devyse</b>, speak of.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>purtreye</b>, paint.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>digne</b>, worthy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>raughte</b>, reached.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>don</b>, do.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reccheles</b>, reckless.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>eek</b>, also.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reysed</b>, ridden.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>embrowded</b>, embroidered.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rote</b>, a musical instrument.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>encres</b>, increase.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sawtreye</b>, psaltery.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>everychon</b>, every one, all.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>schene</b>, bright.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>farsed</b>, stuffed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>scoleye</b>, attend school.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferne</b>, distant, foreign.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>seeke</b>, sick.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferre</b>, farther.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>semely</b>, becomingly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferthing</b>, small portion.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sikerly</b>, surely.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fetysly</b>, neatly, well.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>somdel</b>, somewhat.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fithel</b>, fiddle.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sondry</b>, different kinds.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>Flaundrische</b>, Flemish.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sothly</b>, truly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flotynge</b>, fluting, playing.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>souple</b>, pliant.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flour-de-lys</b>, fleur-de-lis.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sovereyn</b>, excellent.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>forster</b>, forester.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sowning</b>, boasting.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>for-pyned</b>, much wasted.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>steepe</b>, bright.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>frere</b>, friar.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>[<a href="./images/298.png">298</a>]</span><b>streit</b>, strict.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gawded</b>, having gawds.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>swich</b>, such.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gepoun</b>, short cassock.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>swynke</b>, toil.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>goost</b>, ghost.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>thilke</b>, this.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>grys</b>, fur.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tretys</b>, slender.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gynglen</b>, jingling.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>venerye</b>, hunting.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>habergeoun</b>, hawberk.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>viage</b>, journey.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halwes</b>, shrines (holies).</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wastel breed</b>, cake bread.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>heethe</b>, heath, meadow.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wenden</b>, go.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hem</b>, them.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>werre</b>, war.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>here</b>, their.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wight</b>, person.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>heute</b>, borrow.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wiste</b>, knew.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>holpen</b>, helped.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wood</b>, mad, foolish.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>holte</b>, wood.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wympel</b>, wimple.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>i-falle</b>, fallen.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yaf</b>, gave.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ilke</b>, same.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yeddynges</b>, gleemen's songs.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>i-ronne</b>, ran.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yemanly</b>, yeoman-like.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>juste</b>, joust.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yerde</b>, stick.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_1" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_1"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_1">1.</a> <b>in the Ram.</b> In the constellation Aries. "There is a difference, in
+astronomy, between the <i>sign</i> Aries and the <i>constellation</i> Aries. In
+April the sun is theoretically in the sign Taurus, but visibly in the
+constellation Aries."&mdash;<i>Morris.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_2" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_2"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_2">2.</a> <b>i-ronne.</b> Run. The prefix <i>i-</i> or <i>y-</i> is equivalent to the A.-S. or
+German <i>ge</i>, and usually denotes the past participle.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_3" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_3"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_3">3.</a> <b>seeken.</b> The infinitive in early English ended in <i>n</i>, usually in
+<i>en</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_4" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_4"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_4">4.</a> <b>martir.</b> Thomas &agrave; Becket, who was slain at Canterbury in 1170. He was
+canonized by Pope Alexander III. as St. Thomas of Canterbury.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_5" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_5"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_5">5.</a> <b>seeke.</b> Sick, ill. At the present time the English restrict the use of
+the word "sick" to nausea, and regard it in its original and broader
+signification as an "Americanism."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_6" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_6"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_6">6.</a> <b>Tabard.</b> A tabard is "a jaquet or slevelesse coat worne in times past
+by noblemen in the warres, but now only by heraults. It is the signe of
+an inne in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the
+Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This is the hostelrie where Chaucer and the
+other pilgrims mett together and accorded about the manner of their
+journey to Canterbury."&mdash;<i>Speght.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_7" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_7"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_7">7.</a> <b>stables.</b> Standing-places (Lat. <i>sto</i>, to stand); meaning here the
+public rooms of the inn.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_8" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_8"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_8">8.</a> <b>Or.</b> Before, ere (A.-S. <i>aer</i>, ere). Compare Psalm xc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_9" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_9"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_9">9.</a> <b>condicioun.</b> A word of four syllables, accented on the last.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_10" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_10"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_10">10.</a> <b>chyvalrye.</b> The profession of a knight.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_11" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_11"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_11">11.</a> <b>heth&euml;nesse.</b> Heathen countries. From <i>heath</i>, the open country. "The
+word <i>heathen</i> acquired its meaning from the fact that, at the
+introduction of Christianity into Germany, the wild dwellers on the
+heaths longest resisted the truth."&mdash;<i>Trench.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>[<a href="./images/299.png">299</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_12" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_12"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_12">12.</a> <b>Alisaundre.</b> Alexandria was taken in 1365 by Pierre de Lusignan,
+king of Cyprus, but was very soon abandoned.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_13" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_13"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_13">13.</a> <b>he hadde the bord bygonne.</b> "He had been placed at the head of the
+table, the usual compliment to extraordinary merit."&mdash;<i>Tyrwhitt.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_14" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_14"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_14">14.</a> <b>Pruce.</b> Prussia. "When our military men wanted employment it was
+usual for them to go and serve in <i>Pruce</i>, or Prussia, with the Knights
+of the Teutonic order, who were in a state of constant warfare with
+their heathen neighbours in Lettow (Lithuania) and Ruse
+(Russia)."&mdash;<i>Tyrwhitt.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_15" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_15"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_15">15.</a> <b>Gernade.</b> Grenada, probably at the siege of Algezir, in that country,
+in 1344. Belmarie was probably a Moorish town in Africa, as also was
+Tramassene, mentioned below. Lieys was in Armenia. Both it and Satalie
+(Attalia) were conquered by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_16" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_16"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_16">16.</a> <b>Greet&euml; see.</b> That part of the Mediterranean which washes the coast of
+Palestine.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_17" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_17"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_17">17.</a> <b>lord of Palatye.</b> A Christian knight who kept possession of his lands
+by paying tribute to the Turks.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_18" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_18"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_18">18.</a> <b>no maner wight.</b> No sort of person. In early English the preposition
+was often omitted after <i>manner</i>. Observe the double negatives in these
+two lines.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_19" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_19"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_19">19.</a> <b>bacheler.</b> "A soldier not old or rich enough to lead his relations
+into battle with a banner. The original sense of the word is <i>little</i>,
+<i>small</i>, <i>young</i>, from Welsh <i>bach</i>."&mdash;<i>Webster.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_20" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_20"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_20">20.</a> <b>floytynge.</b> Fluting. So, in Chaucer's "House of Fame," he says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And many a floyte and litlyng horne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And pipes made of grene corne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_21" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_21"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_21">21.</a> <b>he.</b> That is, the knight. The word <i>yeman</i>, or <i>yeoman</i>, is an
+abbreviation of <i>yeongeman</i>. As used by Chaucer, it means a servant of a
+rank above that of groom, but below that of squire. The present use of
+the word to signify a small landholder is of more modern origin.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_22" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_22"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_22">22.</a> <b>pocok arw&euml;s.</b> Arrows tipped with peacock feathers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_23" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_23"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_23">23.</a> <b>bracer.</b> A kind of close sleeve laced upon the arm. "A bracer serveth
+for two causes, one to save his arme from the strype of the stringe, and
+his doublet from wearing; and the other is, that the stringe glidinge
+sharplye and quicklye off the bracer, maye make the sharper
+shoote."&mdash;<i>Roger Ascham's Toxophilus</i>, page 129.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_24" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_24"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_24">24.</a> <b>Cristofre.</b> An image of St. Christopher, which was thought to protect
+its wearer from hidden danger.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_25" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_25"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_25">25.</a> <b>seynt Loy.</b> St. Eloy, or Eligius.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_26" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_26"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_26">26.</a> <b>of gret disport.</b> Fond of gayety.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_27" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_27"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_27">27.</a> <b>men.</b> This word as here used is an indefinite pronoun equivalent to
+<i>one</i>, or <i>any one</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a>[<a href="./images/300.png">300</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_28" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_28"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_28">28.</a> "Love conquers all things."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_29" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_29"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_29">29.</a> <b>chapeleyne.</b> Probably <i>assistant</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_30" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_30"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_30">30.</a> <b>a fair for the maistry&euml;.</b> A fair one for the chief place.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_31" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_31"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_31">31.</a> "He would not give a pulled hen for that text"; that is, "he cared
+not a straw for it." Pulled = pylled = pilled = plucked.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_32" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_32"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_32">32.</a> <b>waterles.</b> Out of water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_33" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_33"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_33">33.</a> <b>what.</b> Why, wherefore.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_34" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_34"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_34">34.</a> <b>wood.</b> Mad. Scotch <i>wud</i>, wild.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"An' just as wud as wud can be."&mdash;<i>Burns.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_35" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_35"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_35">35.</a> <b>no cost wolde he spare.</b> For this pleasure he spared no expense.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_36" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_36"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_36">36.</a> "That shone like the fire under a cauldron."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_37" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_37"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_37">37.</a> <b>lymytour.</b> One who was licensed to beg within a limited territory.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_38" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_38"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_38">38.</a> <b>ordres foure.</b> The Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and
+the Augustine Friars.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_39" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_39"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_39">39.</a> <b>post.</b> Pillar, support. Compare with the modern expression, "A pillar
+of the church."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_40" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_40"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_40">40.</a> <b>frankeleyns.</b> Country gentlemen; wealthy landholders.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_41" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_41"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_41">41.</a> <b>licentiat.</b> He had license from the pope to grant absolution in all
+cases. A curate's powers did not extend so far.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_42" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_42"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_42">42.</a> "Where he knew he would have."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_43" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_43"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_43">43.</a> See note <a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_27">27</a>, above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_44" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_44"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_44">44.</a> <b>sellers of vitaille.</b> Givers of food, or a livelihood. The original
+meaning of the word <i>sell</i> was to <i>give</i>. From A.-S. <i>syllan</i>, to give.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_45" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_45"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_45">45.</a> "In the beginning." The first words of St. John's Gospel in the
+Vulgate.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_46" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_46"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_46">46.</a> <b>purchas.</b> Income from begging.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_47" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_47"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_47">47.</a> <b>lov&euml;-day&euml;s.</b> Days appointed for the amicable settlement of
+differences, without recourse to law.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_48" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_48"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_48">48.</a> "He wished the sea were guarded." <b>Middelburgh</b>, a port in the
+Netherlands. <b>Or&euml;welle</b>, a port in Essex.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_49" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_49"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_49">49.</a> <b>scheeld&euml;s.</b> French crowns marked with a shield. Shillings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_50" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_50"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_50">50.</a> <b>Oxenford.</b> Not the "ford of the ox," but the "ford of the river."
+<i>Ox</i>, from Celtic <i>esk</i>, <i>ouse</i>, water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_51" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_51"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_51">51.</a> The word <i>right</i> used, as here, in the sense of <i>very</i> is now
+considered a vulgarism. "A Southerner would say, 'It rains right
+hard.'"&mdash;<i>Bartlett.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_52" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_52"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_52">52.</a> <b>sawtry&euml;.</b> Psaltery, a Greek instrument of music.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_53" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_53"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_53">53.</a> <b>sownynge.</b> Sounding; that is, in consonance with. <b>Sentence</b> = sense.
+So, also, construe <b>forme</b> and <b>reverence</b>, above, as meaning <i>propriety and
+modesty</i>.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>[<a href="./images/301.png">301</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>ON READING CHAUCER.</h3>
+
+<p>"'How few there are who can read Chaucer so as to understand him
+perfectly,' says Dryden, apologizing for 'translating' him. In our day,
+with the wider spread of historical study, with the numerous helps to
+Old English that the care of scholars has produced for us, with the
+purification that Chaucer's text has undergone, this saying of Dryden's
+ought not to be true. It ought to be not only possible, but easy, for an
+educated reader to learn the few essentials of Chaucerian grammar, and
+for an ear at all trained to poetry to tune itself to the unfamiliar
+harmonies. For those who make the attempt the reward is certain. They
+will gain the knowledge, not only of the great poet and creative genius,
+but of the master who uses our language with a power, a freedom, a
+variety, a rhythmic beauty, that, in five centuries, not ten of his
+successors have been found able to rival."&mdash;<i>T. H. Ward.</i></p>
+
+<p>The peculiarities of diction and grammar which distinguish Chaucer's
+poetry seem to make its reading and comprehension difficult and often
+discourage the student at the outset. A very little study, however, will
+show that the difficulties in the way are not nearly so great as they at
+first appear, and, after a little patient practice in reading, they will
+disappear entirely. By observing the following rules you will soon
+acquire the ability to read with a fluency which will be highly pleasing
+to you:</p>
+
+<p>1. Final <i>e</i> should be pronounced as a separate syllable whenever the
+metre demands it.</p>
+
+<p>2. In all words of French origin, such as vis&aacute;ge, cor&aacute;ge, mani&eacute;r, the
+final syllable is accented.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest difficulty in reading Chaucer arises from the antiquated
+manner in which the words are spelled; but if the reader will change an
+occasional <i>y</i> to <i>i</i>, and drop a final <i>e</i> or a final <i>n</i>, here and
+there, the words which seemed at first so strange will appear more
+familiar to the eye and the understanding.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Geoffrey Chaucer</span>, "the morning-star of English poetry," was born in
+London in 1328,&mdash;according to some authorities, in 1340. He was the son
+of a vintner, and at an early age became acquainted with many persons of
+distinction. He was a page in the household of Prince Lionel, and
+afterwards valet and squire to Edward III. In 1372 he was sent abroad as
+a royal envoy, and on his return he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a>[<a href="./images/302.png">302</a>]</span>was made Controller of the Customs
+In London. In the meantime he had married Philippa Rouet, one of the
+queen's maids of honor, a sister to the wife of John of Gaunt. Being
+thus closely related to one of the most powerful members of the royal
+family, he was often employed in important and honorable commissions
+connected with the government. In 1386 he was member of Parliament for
+Kent, and in 1389 was appointed Clerk of the King's Works, at Windsor.
+He died in 1400, and was buried in Westminster Abbey,&mdash;"the first of the
+long line of poets whose ashes make that edifice illustrious." His
+poetical history has been divided by Mr. Furnivall into four periods:
+(1) up to 1371, during which he wrote the "A B C" the "Compleynte to
+Pit&eacute;," the "Boke of the Duchesse," and the "Compleynte of Mars"; (2)
+from 1372 to 1381, which saw the production of "Troylus and Criseyde,"
+"Anelida," and the "Former Age"; (3) from 1381 to 1389, during which his
+best works appeared, the "Parlament of Foules," the "House of Fame," the
+"Legende of Goode Women," and some of the "Canterbury Tales"; (4) from
+1389 to the close of his life, in which period the remainder of the
+"Canterbury Tales" and some short poems were written.</p>
+
+<p>M. Taine says, "Chaucer is like a jeweller with his hands full; pearls
+and glass beads, sparkling diamonds and common agates, black jet and
+ruby roses, all that history and imagination had been able to gather and
+fashion during three centuries in the East, in France, in Wales, in
+Provence, in Italy, all that had rolled his way, clashed together,
+broken or polished by the stream of centuries, and by the grand jumble
+of human memory, he holds in his hand, arranges it, composes therefrom a
+long sparkling ornament, with twenty pendants, a thousand facets, which
+by its splendor, variety, contrasts, may attract and satisfy the eyes of
+those most greedy for amusement and novelty."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Knight's Tale; The Clerk's Tale; The Man of
+Law's Tale; The Legende of Goode Women; The Parlament of Foules; The
+House of Fame; Chaucer's A B C.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Lowell's <i>My Study Windows</i>; Marsh's <i>Origin and History of
+the English Language</i>; Charles Cowden Clarke's <i>The Riches of Chaucer</i>;
+Morley's <i>English Writers</i>, vol. v; Carpenter's <i>English of the XIV
+Century</i>; Taine's <i>English Literature</i>; Lounsbury's <i>Studies in
+Chaucer</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>[<a href="./images/303.png">303</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>INDEX TO NOTES.</h2>
+
+
+<ul class="list">
+<li>accloyes, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>afoir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>aft, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Age of Gold, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ajax, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Akenside, Mark, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>amaist, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ance, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Annus Mirabilis," <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+
+<li>antickes, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aonian, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Apollo, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>apparelled, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arthur's Seat, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arvon, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ashtaroth, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>assay, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>assuasive, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>awfull, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>axle-tree, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ay, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aytoun, William Edmondstoune, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Baalim, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bacchus, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bairns, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>baldric, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ballads, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beattie, James, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bedight, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>beets, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>belyve, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ben, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bield, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>birkie, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blair, Robert, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blake, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>blate, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>blinkin, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boadicea, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li>
+
+<li>boding, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bonnet, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bracer, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>brae, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>braw, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bray, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browne, William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>brutish, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bulwer-Lytton, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>burn-side, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Burns, Robert, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li>
+
+<li>busk, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>buskin, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Butler, Samuel, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ca', <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cambria, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Camelot, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Camilla, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Campbell, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cannie, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carew, Thomas, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>carking, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>castamergia, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cataracts, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>[<a href="./images/304.png">304</a>]</span>Chapman, George, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chaucer, Geoffrey, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chepe, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Christabel, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Churchill, Charles, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>chyvalrye, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>claes, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clarius, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>close, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clough, Arthur Hugh, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Collins, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>conceit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>concern, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>consort, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>convoy, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coof, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coot, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coronal, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cotter, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cowley, Abraham, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cowper, William, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Crabbe, George, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cracks, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Crashaw, Richard, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>craws, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>crew, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cristofre, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>crynis, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cynthia, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>d&aelig;dal, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Daniel, Samuel, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Darius, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>darkling, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Davenant, Sir William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Davies, Sir John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>deid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delphos, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>demi-gods, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Denham, Sir John, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>denty, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>deposit, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dicht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>docht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Donne, John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Douglas, Gawain, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dragon, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Drayton, Michael, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Drummond, William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dryad, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dryden, John, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dunbar, William, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dusk, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dyer, John, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dyght, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>effeires, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Elysian, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ene, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Epipsychidion, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ere, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>esperance, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>eydent, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>eyn, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>fallow, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fassoun, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fates, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fauns, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>feid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fell, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fergusson, Robert, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Flamins, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fletcher, Giles, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>flichterin, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>floytynge, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fois, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fond, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>foreland, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>forgit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>forgoes, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>frankeleyns, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fungoso, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Furies, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>galaxy, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>garmond, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gars, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Garth, Samuel, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a>[<a href="./images/305.png">305</a>]</span>Gascoigne, George, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gauge, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gay, John, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>genius, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gere, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gernad&eacute;, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gife, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>glaiding, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>glinted, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gloir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gloster, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Glover, Richard, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Goldsmith, Oliver, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li>
+
+<li>governance, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gowd, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gower, John, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>grant, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gray, Thomas, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gree, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Green, Matthew, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Greene, Robert, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>greete, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>griesly, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>grisly, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gross, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>guerdoun, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ha'-bible, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>haffets, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hafflins, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>halcyons, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hall, Joseph, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hals-ribbane, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>halsit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hammon, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>harbinger, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hauberk, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>haut-boys, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hawes, Stephen, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hawkie, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Henryson, Robert, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herbert, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hern, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herrick, Robert, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hesperus, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hethenesse, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hinges, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hippocrene, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>histie, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hoel, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hoiss, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hood, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Howard, Henry, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hud, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hunt, Leigh, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hyed, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hymeneal, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ilk, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>influence, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ingle, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ionian, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ipocras, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>i-ronne, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Isis, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>its, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ixion, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Japhet, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Johnson, Samuel, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>jollity, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Keats, John, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kebbuck, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>key, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Kingsley, Charles, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kirtill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kye, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>laif, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Landor, Walter Savage, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Langland, William, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lasit, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lathefu', <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lave, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lawn, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lays, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lemys, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lesum, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lethe, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>[<a href="./images/306.png">306</a>]</span>letted, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+
+<li>licentiate, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lichtlie, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lodge, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>love-days, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lovelace, Richard, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lucifer, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lufe, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lukit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lyart, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lydgate, John, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lydian, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lyly, John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lymytour, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lyst, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Macaulay, Thomas B., <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>M&aelig;nalus, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>maiden (<i>adj.</i>), <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mailyheis, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mansuetude, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marlowe, Christopher, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>martir, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marvell, Andrew, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>May, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mekill, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mend, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Meredith, Owen," <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Milnes, Richard Monckton, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Milton, John, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>moil, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Moore, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>morrow, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mortimer, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mould, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>muddir, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mulciber, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Muses, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>neibor, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>noise, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>numbers, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Occleve, Thomas, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li>
+
+<li>or, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>oracles, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>organs, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Orpheus, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Orus, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Oxenford, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Osiris, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>pad, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Palatye, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pan, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pansy, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pansing, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>paramour, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pards, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parnassus, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parnell, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>passing, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li>
+
+<li>patelet, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>peir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Peneus, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>penny-fee, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Peor, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pescodes, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>philargyria, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Phlegethon, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pies, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pine (<i>v.</i>), <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Plinlimmon, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>plum, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pope, Alexander, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pourall, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>prevent, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Procter, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Procter, Bryan Waller, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>profuse, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Prothalamion, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Proven&ccedil;al, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pruce, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>puissance, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>quality, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhen, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhois, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhome, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhyll, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>[<a href="./images/307.png">307</a>]</span>Raleigh, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ramsay, Allan, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>reedes (<i>v.</i>), <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>reid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>requiem, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rewth, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rhodope, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Robin Hood, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rois, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rutty, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ryshes, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>sacerdotal, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sackville, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Saint Agnes, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Saint Cecilia, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>salvage, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sanct, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sandys, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sark, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sawtrye, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>scho, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>schone, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeke, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeken, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeliest, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seraphim, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>session, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>set, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shakespeare, William, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shelley, Percy B., <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li>
+
+<li>shend, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shenstone, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sic, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sickerness, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sidney, Philip, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sileni, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>silly, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Simo&iuml;s, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>simonia, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sisyphus, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>site, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Skelton, John, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>skylark, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Snowdon, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>socks, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sort, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Southey, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sovran, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sowninge, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sowpe, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sparks, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>speiris, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Spenser, Edmund, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sphear, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spiers, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>splene, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spread, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sprite, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stables, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stacher, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stage, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Star Chamber, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>steep, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>store, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stoure, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>strook, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Styx, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Suckling, Sir John, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sugh, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Surrey, Earl of, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Swan of Avon, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+<li>swindges, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sylvans, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Syrinx, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Tabard, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tabor, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Taliessin, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tennyson, Alfred, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tentie, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tepat, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>terms, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thais, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thammuz, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tholl, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thomson, James, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>thorps, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>thrissil, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>[<a href="./images/308.png">308</a>]</span>till, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Timotheus, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"tirra lirra," <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Titans, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tmolus, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>toil, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>trailed, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>train, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>trump, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>turtle, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tynis, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Typhon, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>udir, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>uncos, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>undersong, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li>
+
+<li>unexpressive, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Vaughan, Henry, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>vermeil, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>wales, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Waller, Edmund, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Warner, William, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>warp, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Warton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Watson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weet, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weid, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weiris, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weit, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weltering, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>which, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>whilome, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>whist, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wicht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wight, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wilding, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wiles, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wisards, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wither, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wold, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wonne, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wont, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wood, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wordsworth, William, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wrought, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wyatt, Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ychain'd, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>yede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>yode, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Young, Edward, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>youngling, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>'yont, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="notebox">
+<a name="TN" id="TN"></a><h2>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2>
+
+<p>Ellipses match the original.</p>
+
+<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the orginal.</p>
+
+<p>Page 14 is blank in the original.</p>
+
+<p>The following corrections have been made to the text:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>Page 79: Dante's <i>Vita Nuova</i>.[original has extraneous quotation mark]</p>
+
+<p>Page 81: full age of man, he might not[original has extraneous comma]
+improbably</p>
+
+<p>Page 124: Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,[original has
+superscripted 1 at the end of the line]</p>
+
+<p>Page 146: <i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>King Lear</i>, Act i[original has ii] sc. i.</p>
+
+<p>Page 146: versification of the "Faerie Queene," page 232[original has 234]</p>
+
+<p>Page 303: chyvalrye[original has chyvalyre], 298.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30235 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #30235 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30235)
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+Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Six Centuries of English Poetry
+       Tennyson to Chaucer
+
+Author: James Baldwin
+
+Release Date: October 11, 2009 [EBook #30235]
+
+Language: EN
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Lisa Reigel, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
+corrected. A complete list follows the text. Words italicized in the
+original are surrounded by _underscores_. Words in bold in the original
+are surrounded by =equal signs=. Characters superscripted in the original
+are inclosed in {} brackets. More Transcriber's Notes follow the text.
+
+
+                       Select English Classics
+
+
+
+
+                       SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH
+                                POETRY
+
+                         TENNYSON TO CHAUCER
+
+                  _TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM THE GREAT
+                                POETS_
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                         JAMES BALDWIN, PH.D.
+
+                      AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK LOVER"
+                              ETC., ETC.
+
+
+                      SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY
+                 NEW YORK . . . BOSTON . . . CHICAGO
+
+
+                           COPYRIGHT 1892,
+                    BY SILVER, BURDETT & COMPANY.
+
+
+
+
+PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
+
+
+This is the first volume of a series of SELECT ENGLISH CLASSICS which
+the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an
+extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of
+English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in
+schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens
+from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose;
+selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; choice extracts from the writings
+of the great essayists; selections from famous English allegories; a
+volume of elegies and elegiacal poetry; studies of English prose
+fiction, with illustrative specimens, etc. Each volume will contain
+copious notes, critical, explanatory, and biographical, besides the
+necessary vocabularies, glossaries, and indexes; and the series when
+complete will present a varied and comprehensive view of all that is
+best in English literature. For supplementary reading, as well as for
+systematic class instruction, the books will possess many peculiarly
+valuable as well as novel features; while their attractive appearance,
+combined with the sterling quality of their contents, will commend them
+for general reading and make them desirable acquisitions for every
+library.
+
+
+
+
+TO TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.
+
+
+There is but one study more interesting than the history of literature,
+and that is the study of literature itself. That the former should often
+be mistaken for the latter is scarcely to be wondered at when we
+consider the intimate and almost indivisible relationship existing
+between them. Yet, in truth, they are as capable of separate
+consideration as are music and the history of music.
+
+[Sidenote: Anglo-Saxon Poetry.]
+
+[Sidenote: The Transition Period.]
+
+Any careful investigation of the history of English poetry would
+naturally begin at a point of time some six or seven hundred years
+earlier than that of Chaucer. From such investigation we should learn
+that even as early as the ninth century--perhaps, indeed, the
+eighth--there were in England some composers of verse in the Anglo-Saxon
+tongue; that the songs of these poets were chiefly of religion or of
+war, and that being written in a language very different from our modern
+English they can scarcely be considered as belonging properly to our
+literature; that among them, however, is a noble poem, "Beowulf," the
+oldest epic of any modern people, which was probably sung or recited by
+pagan minstrels long before it was written down in permanent form; that,
+after the conquest of England by the Normans, the early language of the
+English people underwent a long and tedious process of transition,--a
+blending, in a certain sense, with the Latinized and more polished
+tongue of their conquerors,--and that the result was the language which
+we now call English and are proud to claim as our own; that it was about
+three hundred years after the Norman Conquest, namely, in 1362, that
+this new tongue was officially recognized and authorized to be used in
+the courts at law throughout the land; and that about the same time
+Geoffrey Chaucer composed and wrote his first poems. We should learn,
+moreover, that, during the transition period mentioned above, there were
+many attempts at writing poetry, resulting in the production of tedious
+metrical romances (chiefly translated from the French) and interminable
+rhyming chronicles, pleasing, of course, to the people of that time, but
+wholly devoid of poetic excellence and unspeakably dull to modern
+readers; that these poems, so called, were little better than rhymed
+doggerels, written in couplets of eight-syllabled lines and having for
+their subjects the miraculous deeds of saints and heroes and the
+occurrence of supernatural or impossible phenomena; that the composers
+of these metrical romances and chronicles, although giving free rein to
+the imagination, were utterly destitute of poetic fancy and hence
+produced no true poetry; that, nevertheless, some writer was now and
+then inspired by a flash of real poetic fire, producing a few lines of
+remarkable freshness and beauty,--little lyrics shining forth like gems
+in the great mass of verbiage and rubbish and foretelling the glorious
+possibilities which were to be realized in the future.
+
+[Sidenote: Piers Ploughman.]
+
+Continuing this most interesting study, we should learn that just at the
+time that Chaucer was beginning the composition of his immortal works,
+there appeared an allegorical poem of considerable length, so earnest in
+tone, so richly imaginative, so full of picturesque descriptions, that
+it seemed rather a fulfilment than a prophecy; that this poem--called
+"The Vision of William concerning Piers Ploughman," and written by an
+obscure monk whose name was probably William Langland--was the greatest
+poem and the most popular that had ever been written in England, and yet
+that it failed in many ways of being true English poetry: its metre was
+irregular, and its rhythm was imperfect; its verses instead of rhyming
+were constructed in accordance with certain rules of alliteration; its
+subjects, while interesting, no doubt, to those for whom it was written,
+were not such as bring into play the highest powers of the imagination
+or incite the poetic fancy to its noblest flights. Then we should learn
+that while the ink from good Langland's pen was yet scarcely dry after
+his third revision of "Piers Ploughman," Geoffrey Chaucer came forward
+with his sweet imaginings bodied in immortal verse, his tuneful numbers,
+his "well of English undefiled,"--and English poetry, which now for more
+than five centuries has been the chief glory of our literature, had its
+true beginning.
+
+[Sidenote: Three Schools of Poetry.]
+
+Pursuing the study on lines which would now be more distinctly marked,
+we should observe that Chaucer's best poetry, as well as that of the
+poets who followed him in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was
+distinguished by its truthfulness to nature, by its expression in hearty
+and harmonious words of the finer emotions of the soul, and by the
+freedom and elasticity of its versification. We should learn that in the
+seventeenth century this style of poetry--sometimes called the
+romantic--was succeeded by another and very different fashion in poetic
+composition, introduced into England in imitation of continental and
+classical models: that this new style of versification--ignoring nature
+and making everything subservient to art--was purely artificial,
+characterized by "an oratorical pomp, a classical correctness, a
+theatrical dressing, abundance of moralizing"; and that, with Waller for
+its sponsor and Dryden and Pope for its high priests, it remained for a
+century and a half the favorite of the literary world, the model of
+poetic diction, the standard of poetic taste. We should learn that,
+towards the end of the eighteenth century, certain writers began to
+perceive that although attention to artistic rules in composition may be
+necessary to the best poetry, yet natural feeling, a cultivated
+imagination, and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations
+are even more indispensable; that these writers, rebelling against the
+established order of things, taught that there are elements of true
+poetry in the popular ballads of earlier times, that even the wearisome
+metrical romances of the Middle Ages are rich in suggestiveness and in
+materials for a nobler poetry, and that, instead of going to the
+classics and to society for subjects and models, the poet may find them
+in nature, in the life which is about him, and in a thousand sources
+never before suspected. Finally, we should learn that, at the very time
+when great revolutions in politics and philosophy were being
+inaugurated, a new spirit thus began to manifest itself in our
+literature,--a spirit of revolt against artificial restrictions and
+traditional methods,--which produced a glorious revival in English
+poetic composition and ushered in a third great school of poetry,
+distinguished for its breadth and freedom, as that which it superseded
+had been known for its elegance and precision.[6:1]
+
+[Sidenote: The History of English Poetry.]
+
+A study of the development of English poetry such as we have outlined
+above would involve a knowledge of the history of the English people and
+of the various circumstances and events which from time to time
+influenced our language and literature. It would also embrace many other
+topics, biographical, philological, rhetorical, and speculative, which
+have only a secondary relationship to the central idea of poetry. In
+fact, it would be a study not of poetry, but about poetry,--of the
+circumstances which suggested it, of the men who produced it, and of the
+origin of the word-forms and methods of versification which distinguish
+it. Such a study, altogether interesting and eminently profitable though
+it be, should not be undertaken by any student until he has acquired an
+extensive personal acquaintance with poetry itself. We may enjoy the
+beautiful creations of Tennyson, of Shelley, of Burns, even of Chaucer,
+without knowing one word of the history of poetry, without so much as
+knowing the names of the writers or the circumstances under which they
+wrote. But, on the other hand, to him who knows nothing of the
+masterpieces of our literature, save at second hand, the history of
+English letters must of necessity be dull, uninteresting, and often
+unintelligible. While to him who has prepared himself for its study by
+fitting himself for an appreciation of these noble creations and
+becoming thoroughly imbued with their spirit, what a field of delightful
+study does it offer!
+
+[Sidenote: Object of this Book.]
+
+[Sidenote: Methods of Study.]
+
+The object of the present compilation is to aid in this preparatory
+work,--that is, to offer a plan for promoting the study OF poetry before
+the broader but less important study ABOUT poetry is undertaken. To this
+end we present for the student's consideration a few representative
+poems written at different times and by men of widely different tastes
+and talents during the six centuries which may be said to have elapsed
+since the formation of the modern English tongue. Our chief aim is to
+lead to such a study of these selections as shall help the reader to
+perceive and appreciate their true poetic qualities and enter into full
+sympathy with the thoughts and feelings which their writers intended to
+express. The first object to be sought in the study of these poems is
+the perception of those characteristic excellences which have made them
+universally admired and placed them among the classics of our language.
+To accomplish this object rationally and successfully, it is best to
+begin with those productions which are nearest to us in point of time
+and which are more in harmony with our own thoughts, and therefore
+easiest to understand and enjoy. An attempt to pursue these studies in
+chronological order, beginning with the works of Chaucer and the older
+poets, would oblige the student to encounter at the outset so many
+purely mechanical difficulties that he would fail to discern the
+spiritual qualities of truth, beauty, and goodness, which are the very
+essence of all genuine poetry. He would very naturally acquire a
+distaste for poetry long before he was able to understand it, and while
+he might attain to some considerable knowledge of the history of
+poetical literature, that literature itself would remain to him
+practically a sealed book. Hence, in the study of this subject, as in
+that of other branches, the true method is to present first that which
+is the least difficult, to "proceed from the known to the unknown," to
+begin with that which is near at hand and from it to proceed to the
+consideration of things more remote. Not only are the most of Tennyson's
+poems easily understood, but their beauty is readily apparent even to
+the most superficial readers. By the time we have read and extracted all
+the sweets from three or four of these, we shall be prepared to go a
+step farther and undertake the study of Wordsworth's immortal
+productions,--productions but little more difficult and but little less
+poetic. Thus, step by step, we may review the six centuries of English
+poetry which lie behind, and when at last we reach the time of Chaucer
+we shall be able to take hold of his works with understanding and with
+the zest which is begotten of true sympathy and appreciation. After the
+book has been thus completed, it may be well to run through it again,
+reversing the order of the lessons and this time considering the
+subjects in strict chronological order. Our first study of the book will
+have introduced us to English poetry, our second study of it will have
+given us some insight into the history of its development.
+
+It is well to remember, while pursuing this course, that a taste for
+poetry is not acquired or fostered by an analysis of grammatical forms
+or by any study of words merely as such. To analyze a puzzling sentence
+or to trace the derivation of an interesting word to its roots sometimes
+helps one to understand a difficult expression or to perceive in it a
+meaning hitherto unsuspected; but to make the study of any selection
+consist largely of exercises of this kind is to substitute grammar or
+philology for literature. So, also, should it be borne in mind that
+while it is often interesting and sometimes necessary to become
+acquainted with certain details relative to the life of an author--the
+date of his birth, the character of his education, the influences which
+shaped his life and his work--yet such knowledge belongs to biography
+and is in no sense literature. The study of authors should never be
+substituted for the study of their works, and is usually profitable only
+so far as it helps the student to understand the peculiarities which
+distinguish those works and which are the result of certain personal
+characteristics. And yet it is no uncommon thing to find students
+acquainted with the minutest particulars in the lives of the great
+writers, while of the masterpieces of thought and expression, which are
+the glory of our literature, they betray a deplorable ignorance. Nor is
+this the case with pupils at school alone. "For once that we take down a
+Milton, and read a book of that 'voice,' as Wordsworth says, 'whose
+sound is like the sea,' we take up fifty times a magazine with something
+about Milton, or about Milton's grandmother, or a book stuffed with
+curious facts about the houses in which he lived, and the juvenile
+ailments of his first wife."[9:1]
+
+[Sidenote: Practical Suggestions.]
+
+In the study of the selections contained in this volume, the following
+method is recommended:--
+
+1. The piece should be thoroughly committed to memory.
+
+2. It should be recited or read by each member of the class in such
+manner as to bring out, if possible, his understanding of the meaning of
+every passage.
+
+3. Study the poem as a whole, and let each pupil point out the beauties
+of thought or expression which distinguish it as a poetical composition.
+
+4. Now study each stanza, or each independent thought, in its order, and
+endeavor to understand each word or expression just as the poet intended
+that it should be understood. The Notes appended to most of the
+selections are intended rather to suggest the line of study in this
+regard than to serve as exhaustive aids. The pupil should, so far as
+possible, investigate for himself and make his own discoveries.
+Questions concerning the derivation of words and the syntax of sentences
+are to be discussed only so far as they will aid in the understanding of
+some passage or of the piece as a whole.
+
+5. Learn some of the most important facts connected with the author's
+life. What were the conditions under which he wrote this piece? What was
+the character of his education and of the other influences which shaped
+his life and distinguished his works? Learn what some of the leading
+critics have said concerning his works as a poet.
+
+6. Finally, read the poem again, as a whole, and discuss its qualities
+as a work of literary art, and again point out its distinctive beauties
+and characteristic excellences.
+
+The extracts given at the beginning of each Century will serve to keep
+in mind the leading peculiarities which distinguished the poetry of each
+period; and the lists of poets and their works will be found valuable
+for purposes of reference. Before beginning the study of the selections
+both teacher and pupils should read this Introduction carefully.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[6:1] See the quotation from Taine, page 15.
+
+[9:1] Frederic Harrison: _On the Choice of Books_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+     PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS.
+
+                                                        PAGE
+     INTRODUCTION                                          5
+     THE NINETEENTH CENTURY                               15
+     THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                               95
+     THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY                             157
+     THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY                               215
+     THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY                               267
+     THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY                              285
+     INDEX                                               303
+
+
+POEMS.
+
+     BY ALFRED TENNYSON:--
+         The Lady of Shalott                              17
+         The Brook                                        25
+         The Lotus Eaters                                 28
+
+     BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH:--
+         Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of
+            Early Childhood                               37
+         The Two April Mornings                           49
+         The Solitary Reaper                              51
+
+     BY S. T. COLERIDGE:--
+         Christabel. Part I                               55
+
+     BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY:--
+         To a Skylark                                     67
+         Hymn of Pan                                      71
+         From Epipsychidion                               74
+
+     BY JOHN KEATS:--
+         Ode to a Nightingale                             83
+         From The Eve of St. Agnes                        87
+
+     BY ROBERT BURNS:--
+         The Cotter's Saturday Night                      97
+         To a Mountain Daisy                             107
+         For a' that and a' that                         109
+
+     BY WILLIAM COWPER:--
+         Boadicea                                        113
+         On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture           115
+         Epitaph on a Hare                               120
+
+     BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH:--
+         The Village Parson                              124
+         The Village Schoolmaster                        125
+
+     BY THOMAS GRAY:--
+         The Bard                                        129
+
+     BY ALEXANDER POPE:--
+         From the Essay on Criticism                     141
+         Ode on St. Cecilia's Day                        147
+
+     BY JOHN DRYDEN:--
+         Alexander's Feast                               159
+         The Fire of London                              169
+         Reason and Religion                             174
+
+     BY JOHN MILTON:--
+         On the Morning of Christ's Nativity             177
+         Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton                   196
+
+     BY ROBERT HERRICK:--
+         To Phillis                                      197
+         The Mad Maid's Song                             199
+         A Thanksgiving to God                           200
+
+     BY EDMUND WALLER:--
+         Song: Go, lovely Rose                           203
+         Of English Verse                                204
+         On a Girdle                                     205
+
+     BY BEN JONSON:--
+         An Ode to Himself                               207
+         To Cynthia                                      209
+         To the Memory of William Shakespeare            210
+         Herrick's Ode for Ben Jonson                    214
+
+     BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:--
+         Venus's Advice to Adonis on Hunting             217
+         A Morning Song for Imogen                       219
+         Sigh no more, Ladies                            220
+         Sunshine and Cloud (Sonnet xxxiii.)             220
+         The World's Way (Sonnet lxvi.)                  221
+
+     BY EDMUND SPENSER:--
+         The Cave of Mammon                              223
+         Prothalamion; or, a Spousall Verse              235
+
+     BY THOMAS WYATT:--
+         A Love Song                                     247
+         The Courtier's Life                             248
+
+     BY THE EARL OF SURREY:--
+         From Virgil's Æneid                             249
+         Sonnet: Geraldine                               250
+         On the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt                251
+
+     BALLADS:--
+         Waly, waly                                      253
+         Sir Patrick Spens                               255
+         The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington             259
+         Robin Hood and the Widow's three Sons           261
+
+     BY JOHN SKELTON:--
+         To Maystress Margaret Hussey                    269
+         Cardinal Wolsey                                 270
+
+     BY JOHN LYDGATE:--
+         A Visit to London                               273
+         The Golden Age                                  275
+
+     BY ROBERT HENRYSON:--
+         The Garmond of Fair Ladies                      277
+
+     BY WILLIAM DUNBAR:--
+         A May Morning                                   279
+
+     BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS:--
+         In Praise of Honour                             281
+
+     BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER:--
+         From the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales       287
+
+
+
+
+SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY.
+
+
+
+
+The Nineteenth Century.
+
+
+"_Now appeared the English romantic school, a sect of 'dissenters in
+poetry,' who spoke out aloud, kept themselves close together, and
+repelled settled minds by the audacity and novelty of their theories.
+They had violently broken with tradition, and leaped over all classical
+culture, to take their models from the Renaissance and the middle-age.
+They sought, in the old national ballads and ancient poetry of foreign
+lands, the fresh and primitive accent which had been wanting in
+classical literature, and whose presence seemed to them to be a sign of
+truth and beauty. They proposed to adapt to poetry the ordinary language
+of conversation, such as is spoken in the middle and lower classes, and
+to replace studied phrases and a lofty vocabulary by natural tones and
+plebeian words. In place of the classic mould, they tried stanzas,
+sonnets, ballads, blank verse, with the roughness and subdivisions of
+the primitive poets. . . . Some had culled gigantic legends, piled up
+dreams, ransacked the East, Greece, Arabia, the Middle Ages, and
+overloaded the human imagination with hues and fancies from every clime.
+Others had buried themselves in metaphysics and moral philosophy, had
+mused indefatigably on the condition of man, and spent their lives on
+the sublime and the monotonous. Others, making a medley of crime and
+heroism, had conducted, through darkness and flashes of lightning, a
+train of contorted and terrible figures, desperate with remorse,
+relieved by their grandeur. Men wanted to rest after so many efforts and
+so much success. On the going out of the imaginative, sentimental, and
+Satanic school, Tennyson appeared exquisite. All the forms and ideas
+which had pleased them were found in him, but purified, modulated, set
+in a splendid style. He completed an age._"--TAINE.
+
+
+_Poets of the Nineteenth Century._
+
+=William Wordsworth= (1770-1850). See biographical note, page 52.
+
+=Sir Walter Scott= (1771-1832). "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"; "The Lady
+of the Lake"; "Marmion"; "The Lord of the Isles"; short poems.
+
+=Samuel Taylor Coleridge= (1772-1834). See biographical note, page 65.
+
+=Robert Southey= (1774-1843). "Thalaba"; "Roderick, the last of the
+Goths"; "Joan of Arc"; "Madoc"; "The Curse of Kehama"; numerous short
+poems.
+
+=Charles Lamb= (1775-1834). Chiefly short poems.
+
+=Walter Savage Landor= (1775-1864). "Gebir"; and other poems.
+
+=Thomas Campbell= (1777-1844). "Gertrude of Wyoming"; "The Pleasures of
+Hope"; short poems.
+
+=Thomas Moore= (1779-1852). "Irish Melodies"; "Lalla Rookh"; "Rhymes on
+the Road"; "The Loves of the Angels," etc.
+
+=Leigh Hunt= (1784-1859). "Francesca Rimini"; "A Legend of Florence";
+"Stories in Verse," etc.
+
+=Bryan Waller Procter= ("Barry Cornwall") (1787-1874). "A Sicilian Story";
+"English Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Byron= (George Gordon Noel) (1788-1824). "Childe Harold"; "The
+Giaour"; "Bride of Abydos"; "The Corsair"; "Lara"; "Hebrew Melodies";
+"Siege of Corinth"; "Parisina"; "Manfred"; "Don Juan," etc.
+
+=Percy Bysshe Shelley= (1792-1822). See biographical note, page 81.
+
+=John Keats= (1795-1821). See biographical note, page 93.
+
+=Thomas Hood= (1799-1845). Numerous short poems, chiefly humorous.
+
+=Lord Macaulay= (1800-1859). "Lays of Ancient Rome."
+
+=Elizabeth Barrett Browning= (1809-1861). "Prometheus Bound"; "Casa Guidi
+Windows"; "Sonnets from the Portuguese"; "Aurora Leigh"; "Poems before
+Congress"; "Last Poems."
+
+=Alfred Tennyson= (Lord Tennyson) (1809-). See biographical note, page 35.
+
+=Richard Monckton Milnes= (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885). "Historical Poems";
+"Poetry for the People"; "Poems of Many Years."
+
+=Robert Browning= (1812-1889). "Christmas Eve and Easter Day"; "Men and
+Women"; "The Ring and the Book"; "Balaustion's Adventure"; "Fifine at
+the Fair"; "Aristophanes' Apology," etc.
+
+=William Edmondstoune Aytoun= (1813-1865). "Lays of the Scottish
+Cavaliers"; "Ballads of Scotland," etc.
+
+=Arthur Hugh Clough= (1819-1861). "The Bothie"; "Ambarvalia," etc.
+
+=Charles Kingsley= (1819-1875). "Andromeda"; many short poems.
+
+=Matthew Arnold= (1822-1889). "The Strayed Reveller and other Poems";
+"Balder."
+
+=Adelaide Anne Procter= (1825-1864). "Legends and Lyrics"; "A Chaplet of
+Verses."
+
+=Robert Bulwer-Lytton= ("Owen Meredith") (1831-1892). "Lucile"; "Marah,"
+etc.
+
+
+
+
+Alfred Tennyson.
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF SHALOTT.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     On either side the river lie
+     Long fields of barley and of rye,
+     That clothe the wold{1} and meet the sky:
+     And through the fields the road runs by
+         To many-towered Camelot{2};
+     And up and down the people go,
+     Gazing where the lilies blow
+     Round an island there below,
+         The island of Shalott.
+
+     Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
+     Little breezes dusk{3} and shiver
+     Through the wave that runs forever
+     By the island in the river
+         Flowing down to Camelot;
+     Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
+     Overlook a space of flowers,
+     And the silent isle imbowers
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     By the margin, willow-veiled,
+     Slide the heavy barges, trailed{4}
+     By slow horses; and unhailed
+     The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,
+         Skimming down to Camelot:
+     But who hath seen her wave her hand?
+     Or at the casement seen her stand?
+     Or is she known in all the land,
+         The lady of Shalott?
+
+     Only reapers, reaping early
+     In among the bearded barley,
+     Hear a song that echoes cheerly
+     From the river winding clearly,
+         Down to towered Camelot:
+     And by the moon the reaper weary,
+     Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
+     Listening, whispers, "'Tis the fairy
+         Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+PART II.
+
+     There she weaves by night and day
+     A magic web{5} with colors gay.
+     She has heard a whisper say,
+     A curse is on her if she stay
+         To look down to Camelot.
+     She knows not what the curse may be,
+     And so she weaveth steadily,
+     And little other care hath she,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     And moving through a mirror clear
+     That hangs before her all the year,
+     Shadows of the world appear.
+     There she sees the highway near
+         Winding down to Camelot:
+     There the river-eddy whirls,
+     And there the surly village-churls,
+     And the red cloaks of market girls
+         Pass onward from Shalott.
+
+     Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
+     An abbott on an ambling pad,{6}
+     Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad
+     Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
+         Goes by to towered Camelot;
+     And sometimes through the mirror blue,
+     The knights come riding two and two:
+     She hath no loyal knight and true,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     But in her web she still delights
+     To weave the mirrored magic sights,
+     For often through the silent nights
+     A funeral, with plumes and lights,
+         And music, went to Camelot;
+     Or, when the moon was overhead,
+     Came two young lovers lately wed.
+     "I am half-sick of shadows," said
+         The Lady of Shalott.{7}
+
+
+PART III.
+
+     A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
+     He rode between the barley-sheaves,
+     The sun came dazzling through the leaves,
+     And flamed upon the brazen greaves
+         Of bold Sir Lancelot.
+     A red-cross{8} knight forever kneeled
+     To a lady in his shield
+     That sparkled on the yellow field,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     The gemmy bridle glittered free,
+     Like to some branch of stars we see
+     Hung in the golden Galaxy.{9}
+     The bridle-bells rang merrily
+         As he rode down to Camelot:
+     And from his blazoned baldric{10} slung
+     A mighty silver bugle hung,
+     And as he rode his armor rung,
+         Beside remote Shalott.
+
+     All in the blue unclouded weather
+     Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
+     The helmet and the helmet-feather
+     Burned like one burning flame together,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     As often through the purple night,
+     Below the starry clusters bright,
+     Some bearded meteor,{11} trailing light,
+         Moves over still Shalott.
+
+     His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;
+     On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
+     From underneath his helmet flowed
+     His coal-black curls as on he rode,
+         As he rode down to Camelot.
+     From the bank and from the river
+     He flashed{12} into the crystal mirror,
+     "Tirra lirra," by the river{13}
+         Sang Sir Lancelot.
+
+     She left the web, she left the loom,
+     She made three paces through the room,
+     She saw the water-lily bloom,
+     She saw the helmet and the plume,
+         She looked down to Camelot.
+     Out flew the web and floated wide;
+     The mirror cracked from side to side;
+     "The curse is come upon me," cried
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+     In the stormy east-wind straining,
+     The pale yellow woods were waning,
+     The broad stream in his banks complaining,
+     Heavily the low sky raining
+         Over towered Camelot;
+     Down she came and found a boat
+     Beneath a willow left afloat,
+     And round about the prow she wrote,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     And down the river's dim expanse--
+     Like some bold seër in a trance,
+     Seeing all his own mischance--
+     With a glassy countenance
+         Did she look to Camelot.
+     And at the closing of the day
+     She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
+     The broad stream bore her far away,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Lying, robed in snowy white
+     That loosely flew to left and right--
+     The leaves upon her falling light--
+     Through the noises of the night
+         She floated down to Camelot:
+     And as the boat-head wound along
+     The willowy hills and fields among,
+     They heard her singing her last song,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
+     Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
+     Till her blood was frozen slowly,
+     And her eyes were darkened wholly,
+         Turned to towered Camelot;
+     For ere she reached upon the tide
+     The first house by the water-side,
+     Singing in her song she died,
+         The Lady of Shalott.
+
+     Under tower and balcony,
+     By garden-wall and gallery,
+     A gleaming shape she floated by,
+     A corse between the houses high,
+         Silent into Camelot.
+     Out upon the wharfs they came,
+     Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
+     And round the prow they read her name,
+         _The Lady of Shalott_.
+
+     Who is this? and what is here?
+     And in the lighted palace near
+     Died the sound of royal cheer;
+     And they crossed themselves for fear,
+         All the knights at Camelot;
+     But Lancelot mused a little space;
+     He said, "She has a lovely face;
+     God in his mercy lend her grace,
+         The Lady of Shalott."
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1832. Considered as a picture, or as a series
+of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The story which is here so
+briefly told is founded upon a touching legend connected with the
+romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tennyson
+afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the _Idyll_ called "Elaine,"
+wherein he followed more closely the original narrative as related by
+Sir Thomas Malory.
+
+Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the Round
+Table, and for him Elaine, "the fair maid of Astolat," conceived a
+hopeless passion. "Her love was platonic and pure as that of a child,
+but it was masterful in its strength." Having learned that Lancelot was
+pledged to celibacy, she pined away and died. But before her death she
+called her brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write,
+she spake thus:
+
+"'While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand, and
+my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be put in
+a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have about me, and so let
+my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot to the next
+place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a barge, and but
+one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barge
+be covered with black samite over and over.' . . . So when she was dead,
+the corpse and the bed and all was led the next way unto the Thames, and
+there all were put in a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the
+barge to Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or
+any man espied."[23:A] At length the King and his Knights, coming down
+to the waterside, and seeing the boat and the lily maid of Astolat, they
+uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.
+
+     "But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,
+      Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all:
+      'Most noble Lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,
+      I, sometime called the maid of Astolat,
+      Come, for you left me taking no farewell,
+      Hither, to take my last farewell of you.
+      I loved you, and my love had no return,
+      And therefore my true love has been my death. . . .
+      Pray for my soul and yield me burial.
+      Pray for my soul thou too Sir Lancelot,
+      As thou art a knight peerless.'"[24:A]
+
+And so the maid was buried, "not as one unknown, nor meanly, but with
+gorgeous obsequies, and mass and rolling music, like a queen. And the
+story of her dolorous voyage was blazoned on her tomb in letters gold
+and azure."
+
+
+1. =wold.= An open tract of hilly country, where but few trees are left.
+This word is more frequently used, however, to designate a forest or
+thick wood.
+
+2. =Camelot.= It is supposed that this Camelot was Winchester. It was the
+seat of King Arthur's court, and visitors are still shown the remains of
+what appear to have been certain kinds of intrenchments, which the
+inhabitants call "King Arthur's Palace." Sir Thomas Malory says: "Sir
+Ballin's sword was put into marble stone, standing it upright as a great
+millstone, and it swam down the stream to the city of Camelot, that is,
+in English, Wincheste." There was another Camelot, also King Arthur's
+capital, on the river Camel, in Cornwall, to which Shakespeare makes
+reference in _King Lear_, II, ii. Tennyson, in "Gareth and Lynette,"
+describes the appearance of the city when approached in the early
+morning:
+
+     "Far off they saw the silver-misty morn
+      Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,
+      That rose between the forest and the field.
+      At times the summit of the high city flash'd;
+      At times the spires and turrets half-way down
+      Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great gate shone
+      Only, that open'd on the field below:
+      Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd."
+
+3. =dusk.= Produce a ruffled surface. A very rare use of this word. The
+river referred to is probably the Thames.
+
+4. =trailed.= Lat. _traho_, to draw; Dutch _treilen_, to tow. What picture
+is presented to the imagination in the first five lines of this stanza?
+How do the barges differ in appearance and movement from the shallop
+mentioned two lines below?
+
+5. =web.= Anything woven. =stay.= Stop.
+
+6. =pad.= An easy-going saddle-horse; a palfrey. Describe the picture
+which is presented in this stanza.
+
+7. Explain the meaning of the Lady's exclamation.
+
+8. =red-cross knight.= A Knight wearing a red cross. One of King Arthur's
+Knights. The red-cross Knight in Spenser's _Faerie Queene_ symbolizes
+holiness.
+
+     "And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
+      The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
+      For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
+      And dead, as living ever, him ador'd;
+      Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
+      For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
+      Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;
+      But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
+      Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."
+
+9. =Galaxy.= The milky-way. Gr. _gala_, _galaktos_, milk.
+
+10. =baldric.= A belt thrown over the shoulder. From Lat. _balteus_.
+
+11. =bearded meteor.= A shooting-star emitting rays of light in the
+direction in which it moves. The beard of a comet is the light which it
+throws out in front of it, in distinction from the tail or rays behind.
+
+12. =He flashed.= His image was thrown upon and reflected from.
+
+13. "=Tirra lirra.=" French _tire lire_. Probably intended to imitate the
+note of the lark.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[23:A] Malory's King Arthur, Part III.
+
+[24:A] Tennyson's Elaine.
+
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+     I come from haunts of coot{1} and hern,{2}
+       I make a sudden sally,
+     And sparkle out among the fern,
+       To bicker{3} down a valley.
+
+     By thirty hills I hurry down,
+       Or slip between the ridges,
+     By twenty thorps,{4} a little town,
+       And half a hundred bridges.
+
+     Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I chatter over stony ways,
+       In little sharps and trebles,
+     I bubble into eddying bays,
+       I babble on the pebbles.
+
+     With many a curve my banks I fret
+       By many a field and fallow,
+     And many a fairy foreland{5} set
+       With willow-weed and mallow.
+
+     I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I wind about, and in and out,
+       With here a blossom sailing,
+     And here and there a lusty trout,
+       And here and there a grayling,
+
+     And here and there a foamy flake
+       Upon me, as I travel,
+     With many a silvery waterbreak
+       Above the golden gravel,
+
+     And draw them all along, and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+     I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+       I slide by hazel{6} covers;
+     I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+       That grow for happy lovers.
+
+     I slip, I slide, I gloom,{7} I glance,
+       Among my skimming swallows;
+     I make the netted sunbeams dance
+       Against my shady shallows.
+
+     I murmur under moon and stars
+       In brambly wildernesses;
+     I linger by my shingly{8} bars;
+       I loiter round my cresses;
+
+     And out again I curve and flow
+       To join the brimming river,
+     For men may come and men may go,
+       But I go on forever.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This little lyric forms a part of "an idyl" of the same title, published
+in 1855. The poet introduces it in the following manner:
+
+     "Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East
+      And he to Italy--too late--too late:
+      . . . . . . . . . Yet the brook he loved
+      . . . . . . . seems, as I re-listen to it,
+      Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,
+      To me that loved him; for, 'O brook,' he says,
+      'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
+      'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies:
+        'I come from haunts of coot and hern,'" etc.
+
+In reading this poem, observe how strikingly the sound is made to
+correspond to the sense.
+
+
+1. =coot.= A wild water-fowl, resembling the duck.
+
+2. =hern.= Heron.
+
+3. =bicker.= To move unsteadily.
+
+4. =thorps.= Small villages. A. S. _thorpe_. From Ger. _trupp_, a troop.
+
+5. =foreland.= A promontory.
+
+6. =hazel covers.= Hazel thickets.
+
+7. =gloom.= Glimmer, shine obscurely.
+
+8. =shingly.= Gravelly.
+
+
+
+
+THE LOTOS-EATERS.
+
+
+     "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;
+     "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
+     In the afternoon they came unto a land,
+     In which it seemed always afternoon.
+     All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
+     Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
+     Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
+     And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
+     Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
+
+     A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
+     Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
+     And some through wavering lights and shadows broke
+     Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
+     They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
+     From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
+     Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
+     Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
+     Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
+
+     The charmed sunset lingered low adown
+     In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale
+     Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
+     Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
+     And meadow, set with slender galingale;
+     A land where all things always seemed the same!
+     And round about the keel with faces pale,
+     Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
+     The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
+
+     Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
+     Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
+     To each, but whoso did receive of them,
+     And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
+     Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave
+     On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
+     His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
+     And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
+     And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
+
+     They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
+     Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
+     And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
+     Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore
+     Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
+     Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
+     Then some one said, "We will return no more;"
+     And all at once they sang, "Our island home
+     Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."
+
+
+
+
+CHORIC SONG.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There is sweet music here that softer falls
+     Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
+     Or night-dews on still waters between walls
+     Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
+     Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
+     Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
+     Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
+     Here are cool mosses deep.
+     And thro' the moss the ivies creep,
+     And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
+     And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.
+
+
+II.
+
+     Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
+     And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
+     While all things else have rest from weariness?
+     All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
+     We only toil, who are the first of things,
+     And make perpetual moan,
+     Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
+     Nor ever fold our wings,
+     And cease from wanderings,
+     Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;
+     Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
+     "There is no joy but calm!"
+     Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?
+
+
+III.
+
+     Lo! in the middle of the wood,
+     The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud
+     With winds upon the branch, and there
+     Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
+     Sun-steeped at noon, and in the moon
+     Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
+     Falls, and floats adown the air.
+     Lo! sweetened with the summer light,
+     The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
+     Drops in a silent autumn night.
+     All its allotted length of days,
+     The flower ripens in its place,
+     Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
+     Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
+     Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.
+     Death is the end of life; ah, why
+     Should life all labour be?
+     Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
+     And in a little while our lips are dumb.
+     Let us alone. What is it that will last?
+     All things are taken from us, and become
+     Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
+     Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
+     To war with evil? Is there any peace
+     In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
+     All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
+     In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:
+     Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
+
+
+V.
+
+     How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
+     With half-shut eyes ever to seem
+     Falling asleep in a half-dream!
+     To dream and dream, like yonder amber light
+     Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
+     To hear each other's whispered speech;
+     Eating the Lotos day by day,
+     To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
+     And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
+     To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
+     To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
+     To muse and brood and live again in memory,
+     With those old faces of our infancy
+     Heaped over with a mound of grass,
+     Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
+     And dear the last embraces of our wives
+     And their warm tears: but all hath suffered change;
+     For surely now our household hearths are cold:
+     Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
+     And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
+     Or else the island-princes over-bold
+     Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
+     Before them of the ten-years' war in Troy,
+     And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
+     Is there confusion in the little isle?
+     Let what is broken so remain.
+     The gods are hard to reconcile:
+     'Tis hard to settle order once again.
+     There _is_ confusion worse than death,
+     Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
+     Long labour unto aged breath,
+     Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars,
+     And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     But, propped on beds of amaranth and moly,
+     How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
+     With half-dropped eyelids still,
+     Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
+     To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
+     His waters from the purple hill--
+     To hear the dewy echoes calling
+     From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine--
+     To watch the emerald-coloured water falling
+     Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
+     Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
+     Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
+     The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
+     All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
+     Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone
+     Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
+     We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
+     Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was
+         seething free,
+     Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
+     Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
+     In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
+     On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.
+     For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled
+     Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled
+     Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
+     Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
+     Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery
+         sands,
+     Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying
+         hands.
+     But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
+     Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
+     Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;
+     Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
+     Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
+     Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
+     Till they perish and they suffer--some, 'tis whispered, down in hell
+     Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
+     Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
+     Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
+     Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
+     Oh, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
+teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the
+lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew
+water, and straightway my company took their mid-day meal by the swift
+ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink, I sent forth certain of my
+company to go and make search of what manner of men they were who here
+live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and
+sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed
+with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters
+devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste.
+Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no
+more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide
+with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of
+his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and
+sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound
+them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved
+company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any
+should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning."--_Homer's
+Odyssey_, ix, 80.
+
+"In this poem, 'The Lotos-Eaters,' the artistic ideal of the young poet
+(it was written in 1830) found its most finished expression and its
+culminating point. Here he seems to have attained a consciousness that
+beyond the ideal which he had adopted there is another, larger, grander,
+and more satisfying. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the range of poetry, is
+the trance of a listless life so harmoniously married to appropriate
+melodies and appropriate accompaniments."--_North British Review._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALFRED TENNYSON was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1809.
+His early education was received at home from his father, who was rector
+of Somersby and vicar of Bennington and Grimsby. He was afterwards sent
+to Trinity College, Cambridge, where, at the age of twenty, he received
+the chancellor's medal for a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo."
+In 1830 he published a small volume of "Poems chiefly Lyrical." A
+revised edition of this volume, published in 1833, contained "The Lady
+of Shalott," "The Lotos-Eaters," and others of his best-known short
+poems. In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed
+poet-laureate. In the same year he was married to Emily, daughter of
+Henry Sellwood, Esq., and niece of Sir John Franklin. Since 1851,
+Tennyson has resided for the greater part of the time at Farringford,
+Freshwater, Isle of Wight. In December, 1883, he was made Baron Tennyson
+of Aldworth and Freshwater.
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says R. H. Hutton, "was an artist even before he was a
+poet; in other words, the eye for beauty, grace, and harmony of effect
+was even more emphatically one of his original gifts than the voice for
+poetic utterance itself. This, probably, it is which makes his very
+earliest pieces appear so full of effort, and sometimes even so full of
+affectation. They were elaborate attempts to embody what he saw, before
+the natural voice of the poet had come to him. I think it possible to
+trace not only a pre-poetic period in his art, but to date the period at
+which the soul was 'infused' into his poetry, and the brilliant external
+figures became the dwelling-places of germinating poetic thoughts
+creating their own music. Curiously enough, the first poem where there
+is any trace of those musings of the Round Table to which he has
+directed so much of his maturest genius, is also a confession that the
+poet was sick of the magic mirror of fancy and its picture-shadows, and
+was turning away from them to the poetry of human life. Whenever Mr.
+Tennyson's pictorial fancy has had it in any degree in its power to run
+away with the guiding and controlling mind, the richness and the
+workmanship have to some extent overgrown the spiritual principle of his
+poems. It is obvious, for instance, that even in relation to natural
+scenery, what his poetical faculty delights in most are rich, luxuriant
+landscapes, in which either nature or man has accumulated a lavish
+variety of effects. It is in the scenery of the mill, the garden, the
+chase, the down, the rich pastures, the harvest-field, the palace
+pleasure-grounds, the Lord of Burleigh's fair domains, the luxuriant
+sylvan beauty, bearing testimony to the careful hand of man, 'the summer
+crisp with shining woods,' that Mr. Tennyson most delights. If he strays
+to rarer scenes, it is almost in search of richer and more luxuriant
+loveliness, like the tropical splendors of 'Enoch Arden' and the
+enervating skies which cheated the Lotos-Eaters of their longing for
+home."
+
+"Mr. Tennyson," says a writer in the _North British Review_, "deserves
+an especial study, not only as a poet, but as a leader and a landmark of
+popular thought and feeling. As a poet, he belongs to the highest
+category of English writers; for poetry is the strongest and most
+vigorous branch of English literature. In this literature his works are
+evidently destined to secure a permanent place; for they express in
+language refined and artistic, but not unfamiliar, a large segment of
+the popular thought of the period over which they range. He has,
+moreover, a clearly marked if not strongly individualized style, which
+has served as a model for imitators, and as a starting-point for poets
+who have sought to improve upon it."
+
+
+=Principal Poems of Tennyson:= Charge of the Light Brigade, written in
+1854; Dora, 1842; The Dying Swan, 1830; Enoch Arden, 1864; Idylls of the
+King, 1859-1873,--to be read in the following order: The Coming of
+Arthur; Gareth and Lynette; Geraint and Enid; Merlin and Vivien;
+Lancelot and Elaine; The Holy Grail; Pelleas and Ettarre; The Last
+Tournament; Guinevere; The Passing of Arthur;--In Memoriam, 1850 (131
+parts); Locksley Hall, 1842; Locksley Hall Sixty Years Afterwards, 1886;
+Maud, 1855 (3 parts); The Princess, 1847 (7 parts); Ode on the Death of
+the Duke of Wellington, 1852.
+
+
+DRAMATIC PIECES: Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876; The Cup, 1881; The
+Falcon, 1882; Becket, 1884; The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
+1892.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Stedman's _Victorian Poets_; Van Dyke's _The Poetry of
+Tennyson_; Taine's _History of English Literature_, vol. IV; Kingsley's
+_Miscellanies_; Elsdale's _Studies in the Idylls_; Buchanan's _Master
+Spirits_; Tainsh's _Studies in Tennyson_; Hutton's _Essays_; Chapman's
+_Companion to In Memoriam_; Walters's _In Tennyson Land_.
+
+
+
+
+William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+ODE.
+
+INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.
+
+     The Child is father{1} of the Man;
+     And I could wish my days to be
+     Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+I.
+
+     There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
+     The earth, and every common sight,
+             To me did seem
+           Apparelled{2} in celestial light,
+     The glory and the freshness of a dream.
+     It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
+           Turn wheresoe'er I may,
+             By night or day,
+     The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
+
+
+II.
+
+           The rainbow comes and goes,
+           And lovely is the rose;
+           The moon doth with delight
+       Look round her when the heavens are bare;
+           Waters on a starry night
+           Are beautiful and fair;
+       The sunshine is a glorious birth;
+       But yet I know, where'er I go,
+     That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
+
+
+III.
+
+     Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
+       And while the young lambs bound
+         As to the tabor's{3} sound,
+     To me alone there came a thought of grief:
+     A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
+         And I again am strong.
+     The cataracts{4} blow their trumpets from the steep;
+     No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
+     I hear the echoes{5} through the mountains throng;
+     The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,{6}
+         And all the earth is gay;
+           Land and sea
+       Give themselves up to jollity,{7}
+         And with the heart of May{8}
+       Doth every beast keep holiday.
+         Thou child of joy,
+     Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd-boy!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call
+       Ye to each other make; I see
+     The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
+       My heart is at your festival.
+         My head hath its coronal,{9}
+     The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
+           Oh evil day if I were sullen
+           While Earth herself is adorning
+             This sweet May morning,
+           And the children are culling
+             On every side,
+           In a thousand valleys far and wide,
+           Fresh flowers, while the sun shines warm,
+     And the babe leaps up{10} on his mother's arm:
+           I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
+           --But there's a tree,{11} of many, one,
+     A single field which I have looked upon,
+     Both of them speak of something that is gone:
+             The pansy{12} at my feet
+             Doth the same tale repeat.
+     Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
+     Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
+
+
+V.
+
+     Our birth is but a sleep{13} and a forgetting:
+     The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
+           Hath had elsewhere its setting,
+             And cometh from afar;
+           Not in entire forgetfulness,
+           And not in utter nakedness,
+     But trailing clouds of glory do we come
+           From God, who is our home.
+     Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
+     Shades of the prison-house begin to close
+           Upon the growing boy,
+     But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
+           He sees it in his joy;
+     The youth, who daily farther from the East
+           Must travel, still is nature's priest,
+           And by the vision splendid
+           Is on his way attended;
+     At length the man perceives it die away,
+     And fade into the light of common day.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
+     Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
+     And even with something of a mother's mind,
+           And no unworthy aim,
+           The homely nurse doth all she can
+     To make her foster-child, her inmate man,
+           Forget the glories he hath known,
+     And that imperial palace whence he came.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Behold the child{14} among his new-born blisses,
+     A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
+     See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
+     Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
+     With light upon him from his father's eyes!
+     See at his feet some little plan or chart,
+     Some fragment from his dream of human life,
+     Shaped by himself with newly-learned art--
+           A wedding or a festival,
+           A mourning or a funeral;
+             And this hath now his heart,
+           And unto this he frames his song.
+             Then will he fit his tongue
+     To dialogues of business, love, or strife:
+           But it will not be long
+           Ere this be thrown aside,
+           And with new joy and pride
+     The little actor cons another part,
+     Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'{15}
+     With all the persons, down to palsied age,
+     That Life brings with her in her equipage,
+           As if his whole vocation
+           Were endless imitation.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
+           Thy soul's immensity;
+     Thou, best philosopher, who yet dost keep
+     Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
+     That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
+     Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
+           Mighty prophet! seer blest!{16}
+           On whom those truths do rest,
+     Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
+     In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
+     Thou, over whom thy immortality
+     Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
+     A presence which is not to be put by;
+     Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
+     Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
+     Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
+     The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
+     Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
+     Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
+     And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
+     Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
+
+
+IX.
+
+           O joy, that in our embers
+           Is something that doth live,
+           That nature yet remembers
+           What was so fugitive!
+     The thought of our past years in me doth breed
+     Perpetual benediction: not indeed
+     For that which is most worthy to be blest--
+     Delight and liberty, the simple creed
+     Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
+     With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
+           Not for these I raise
+           The song of thanks and praise;
+         But for those obstinate questionings
+         Of sense and outward things,
+         Fallings from us, vanishings;{17}
+         Blank misgivings{18} of a creature
+     Moving about in worlds not realized,
+     High instincts before which our mortal nature
+     Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
+           But for those first affections,
+           Those shadowy recollections,
+         Which, be they what they may,
+     Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
+     Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
+       Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
+     Our noisy years seem moments in the being
+     Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,
+           To perish never;
+     Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,
+           Nor man nor boy,
+     Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
+     Can utterly abolish or destroy!
+           Hence in a season of calm weather,
+           Though inland far we be,
+     Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
+         Which brought us hither,
+           Can in a moment travel thither,
+     And see the children sport upon the shore,
+     And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
+
+
+X.
+
+     Then sing, ye birds! sing, sing a joyous song!
+           And let the young lambs bound
+           As to the tabor's sound!
+     We in thought will join your throng,
+           Ye that pipe and ye that play,
+           Ye that through your hearts to-day
+           Feel the gladness of the May!
+     What though the radiance which was once so bright
+     Be now forever taken from my sight,
+       Though nothing can bring back the hour
+     Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower?
+           We will grieve not, rather find
+           Strength in what remains behind;
+           In the primal sympathy
+           Which, having been, must ever be;
+           In the soothing thoughts that spring
+           Out of human suffering;
+           In the faith that looks through death,
+     In years that bring the philosophic mind.
+
+
+XI.
+
+     And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
+     Forebode not any severing of our loves!
+     Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
+     I only have relinquished one delight
+     To live beneath your more habitual sway.
+     I love the brooks, which down their channels fret,
+     Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:
+     The innocent brightness of a new-born day
+             Is lovely yet:
+     The clouds that gather round the setting sun{19}
+     Do take a sober coloring from an eye
+     That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
+     Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
+     Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
+     Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
+     To me the meanest flower that blows can give
+     Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This was composed," says Wordsworth, "during my residence at Town-End,
+Grasmere (1803-1806). Two years at least passed between the writing of
+the first four stanzas and the remaining part. To the attentive and
+competent reader the whole sufficiently explains itself, but there may
+be no harm in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my
+own mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was
+more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as
+a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere:
+
+                    'A simple child
+     That lightly draws its breath,
+     And feels its life in every limb,
+     What should it know of death?'[44:A]
+
+"But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that _my_
+difficulty came, as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
+within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
+almost persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should
+be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a feeling
+congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external things as
+having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as
+something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
+Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
+recall myself from this abyss of idealism to reality. At that time I was
+afraid of mere processes. In later periods of life I have deplored, as
+we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and
+have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
+_Obstinate questionings_, etc. To that dream-like vividness and splendor
+which invests objects of sight in childhood every one, I believe, if he
+could look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
+here; but having in the poem regarded it as a presumptive evidence of a
+prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
+conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
+meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
+recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
+immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
+advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
+fall of man presents an analogy in its favor. Accordingly, a
+pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
+and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
+ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
+the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
+felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his mind? Having to
+wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on the
+'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as
+having sufficient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for
+my purpose the best use of it I could as a poet."
+
+Lord Houghton says of this poem: "If I am asked what is the greatest
+poem in the English language, I never for a moment hesitate to say,
+Wordsworth's 'Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.'"
+
+Principal Shairp says: "'The Ode on Immortality' marks the highest limit
+which the tide of poetic inspiration has reached in England within this
+century, or indeed since the days of Milton."
+
+The idea of the pre-existence of the soul had already been treated by
+Henry Vaughan in "Silex Scintillans" (1655).
+
+     "Happy those infant days, when I
+      Shined in my angel-infancy!
+      Before I understood this place
+      Appointed for my second race,
+      Or taught my soul to fancy aught
+      But a white, celestial thought;
+      When yet I had not walked above
+      A mile or two from my first Love,
+      And looking back at that short space
+      Could see a glimpse of his bright face."
+
+Shelley, in "A Lament," hints at the same thought:
+
+     "O world! O life! O time!
+      On whose last steps I climb,
+          Trembling at that where I had stood before,
+      When will return the glory of your prime?
+          No more--oh, never more!
+
+     "Out of the day and night
+      A joy has taken flight;
+          Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
+      Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
+          No more--oh, never more!"
+
+
+1. =The child is father, etc.= These lines are from a short poem by
+Wordsworth, entitled "My Heart leaps up":
+
+     "My heart leaps up when I behold
+          A rainbow in the sky.
+      So was it when my life began;
+      So is it now I am a man;
+      So be it when I shall grow old,
+          Or let me die!
+      The child is father of the man;
+      And I could wish my days to be
+      Bound each to each by natural piety."
+
+Compare with Milton's lines in 'Paradise Regained,' Bk. IV:
+
+       "The childhood shows the man
+     As morning shows the day."
+
+2. =apparelled.= From Fr. _pareil_, Lat. _parilis_. Other English words as
+_pair_, _compare_, etc., are similarly derived. To _apparel_ is strictly
+to pair, to suit, to put like to like.
+
+3. =tabor.= From Old Fr. _tabour_, Fr. _tambour_. Compare Eng.
+_tambourine_. Originally from the root _tap_, Gr. _tup_, to strike
+lightly. An ancient musical instrument,--a small one-ended drum having a
+handle projecting from the frame, by which it was held in the left hand,
+while it was beaten with a stick held in the right hand.
+
+4. =the cataracts.= The poet has probably in mind the "ghills" or falls of
+his own lake country. The metaphor which he uses is a bold one.
+
+5. =the echoes.= Compare with a similar line by Shelley:
+
+     "Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains."
+                                                --_Adonais_, 127.
+
+6. =the fields of sleep.= "The yet reposeful, slumbering country
+side."--_Hales._ "The fields that were dark during the hours of
+sleep."--_Knight._
+
+7. =jollity.= Merriment. From Lat. _jovialis_. See Milton's 'L'Allegro,'
+26:
+
+     "Haste thee nymph and bring with thee
+      Jest and youthful jollity."
+
+8. =May.= May, with the poets, is the month of gayety. The older poetry
+especially is full of May raptures. Chaucer says:
+
+     "For May will have no sluggardy a-night:
+      The season pricketh every gentle heart,
+      And maketh him out of his sleep to start."
+
+9. =coronal.= A crown of flowers, a chaplet. As at the Roman banquets. On
+such occasions it was usual for the host to give chaplets to his guests.
+Festoons of flowers were also sometimes hung over their necks and
+breasts. The chaplet, or coronal, was regarded as a cheerful ornament
+and symbol of festivity.
+
+10. =the babe leaps up.= That is for joy. See the poem, "My heart leaps
+up," on page 46.
+
+11. =there's a tree.= Compare this thought with that contained in the
+following lines:
+
+     "Only, one little sight, one plant,
+      . . . whene'er the leaf grows there
+      Its drop comes from my heart, that's all."
+                                    --_Browning's May and Death._
+
+12. =pansy.= The flower of thought. From Fr. _pensée_, thought; _penser_,
+to think. "It probably derived its name, thought or fancy, from its
+fanciful appearance."--_Nares._ Another derivation of the word is from
+_panacea_, meaning _all-heal_, a name given by the Greeks to a plant
+which was popularly supposed to cure diseases and dispel sorrow. The
+notion that the pansy is a cure for grief is shown in its common English
+name, _heart's-ease_.
+
+13. =Our birth is but a sleep.= The idea of pre-existence was a favorite
+one of the ancient philosophers. The doctrine of metempsychosis, a form
+of the same idea, was held by the ancient Egyptians and is still
+maintained by the Buddhists. Tennyson says:
+
+     "As old mythologies relate,
+      Some draught of Lethe might await
+      The slipping through from state to state.
+
+     "And if I lapsed from nobler place,
+      Some legend of a fallen race
+      Alone might hint of my disgrace."--_Two Voices._
+
+14. =Behold the child.= Pope gives a similar picture:
+
+     "Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
+      Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
+      Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
+      A little louder, but as empty quite."--_Essay on Man._
+
+When Wordsworth wrote of
+
+     "A six years' darling of a pigmy size,"
+
+he probably had in mind Hartley Coleridge, who was then a child of that
+age. See his poem "To Hartley Coleridge, Six Years Old."
+
+15. =humorous stage.= See Shakespeare's lines beginning "All the world's
+a stage," "As You like It," Act ii, sc. 7. The word _humorous_ has here
+a special sense, such as is used by Ben Jonson in his "Every Man in his
+Humor."
+
+16. =best philosopher . . . mighty prophet! seer blest!= Stopford Brooke
+says: "These expressions taken separately have scarcely any recognizable
+meaning. By taking them all together, we feel rather than see that
+Wordsworth intended to say that the child, having lately come from a
+perfect existence, in which he saw truth directly, and was at home with
+God, retains, unknown to us, that vision;--and, because he does, is the
+best philosopher, since he sees at once that which we through philosophy
+are endeavoring to reach; is the mighty prophet, because in his actions
+and speech he tells unconsciously the truths he sees, but the sight of
+which we have lost; is more closely haunted by God, more near to the
+immortal life, more purely and brightly free because he half shares in
+the pre-existent life and glory out of which he has come."--_Theology in
+the English Poets._
+
+17. =Fallings from us, vanishings.= "Fits of utter dreaminess and
+abstraction, when nothing material seems solid, but everything mere mist
+and shadow."--_Hales._
+
+18. =Blank misgivings.= Compare Tennyson, "Two Voices":
+
+     "Moreover, something is or seems,
+      That touches me with mystic gleams,
+      Like glimpses of forgotten dreams;
+
+     "Of something felt, like something here;
+      Of something done, I know not where;
+      Such as no language may declare."
+
+19. =The clouds that gather.= Compare these lines with the following from
+Wordsworth's "Excursion":
+
+                     "Ah! why in age
+     Do we revert so fondly to the walks
+     Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
+     The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
+     Of her own native vigor, thence can hear
+     Reverberations and a choral song,
+     Commingling with the incense that ascends
+     Undaunted toward the imperishable heavens,
+     From her own lonely altar?"
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[44:A] The first stanza of We are Seven, said to have been written by
+Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.
+
+
+     We walked along, while bright and red
+     Uprose the morning sun;
+     And Matthew{1} stopped, he looked, and said,
+     'The will of God be done!'
+
+     A village schoolmaster was he,
+     With hair of glittering gray;
+     As blithe a man as you could see
+     On a spring holiday.
+
+     And on that morning, through the grass,
+     And by the steaming rills,
+     We travelled merrily, to pass
+     A day among the hills.
+
+     'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun:
+     Then, from thy breast what thought,
+     Beneath so beautiful a sun,
+     So sad a sigh has brought?'
+
+     A second time did Matthew stop,
+     And fixing still his eye
+     Upon the eastern mountain-top,
+     To me he made reply:
+
+     'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
+     Brings fresh into my mind
+     A day like this which I have left
+     Full thirty years behind.
+
+     And just above yon slope of corn
+     Such colors, and no other,
+     Were in the sky, that April morn,
+     Of this the very brother.
+
+     With rod and line I sued the sport
+     Which that sweet season gave,
+     And, to the church-yard come, stopped short
+     Beside my daughter's grave.
+
+     Nine summers had she scarcely seen,
+     The pride of all the vale:
+     And then she sang;--she would have been
+     A very nightingale.
+
+     Six feet in earth my Emma lay;
+     And yet I loved her more,
+     For so it seemed, than till that day
+     I e'er had loved before.
+
+     And, turning from her grave, I met,
+     Beside the churchyard yew,
+     A blooming girl, whose hair was wet
+     With points of morning dew.
+
+     A basket on her head she bare;
+     Her brow was smooth and white:
+     To see a child so very fair,
+     It was a pure delight!
+
+     No fountain from its rocky cave
+     E'er tripped with foot so free;
+     She seemed as happy as a wave
+     That dances on the sea.
+
+     There came from me a sigh of pain
+     Which I could ill confine;
+     I looked at her, and looked again:
+     And did not wish her mine!'
+
+     Matthew is in his grave, yet now,
+     Methinks, I see him stand,
+     As at that moment, with a bough
+     Of wilding{2} in his hand.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1799, and published the following year.
+
+1. =Matthew.= This old schoolmaster is described elsewhere by Wordsworth
+as being "made up of several, both of his class and men of other
+occupations."
+
+2. =wilding.= A twig from a wild apple tree.
+
+     "Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found."--_Dryden._
+
+
+
+
+THE SOLITARY REAPER.
+
+
+     Behold her, single in the field,
+     Yon solitary highland lass!
+     Reaping and singing by herself;
+     Stop here, or gently pass!
+     Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
+     And sings a melancholy strain;
+     O listen! for the vale profound
+     Is overflowing with the sound.
+
+     No nightingale did ever chaunt
+     More welcome notes to weary bands
+     Of travellers in some shady haunt
+     Among Arabian sands:
+     A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
+     In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird,
+     Breaking the silence of the seas
+     Among the farthest Hebrides.
+
+     Will no one tell me what she sings?--
+     Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
+     For old, unhappy, far-off things,
+     And battles long ago:
+     Or is it some more humble lay,
+     Familiar matter of to-day?
+     Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
+     That has been, or may be again?
+
+     Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
+     As if her song could have no ending;
+     I saw her singing at her work,
+     And o'er the sickle bending;--
+     I listened, motionless and still;
+     And, as I mounted up the hill,
+     The music in my heart I bore,
+     Long after it was heard no more.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM WORDSWORTH was born at Cockermouth, a town in Cumberland,
+England, April 7, 1770. He went to school at Hawkshead, Lancashire,
+whence in his seventeenth year he was sent to St. John's College,
+Cambridge. In January, 1791, he took his degree at the University, but
+without having distinguished himself in any way. The next fifteen or
+sixteen months were spent in France, just then in the first wild hopes
+of the Revolution. "In the aspirations and hopes of the revolutionists
+he was an ardent sharer; he thought that the world's great age was
+beginning anew; and with all his soul he hailed so splendid an era. The
+ultimate degradation of that great movement by wild lawlessness, and
+then by most selfish ambition, alienated his sympathy for it." Towards
+the close of 1792 he returned to England, and passed the subsequent time
+among his friends in London and elsewhere till he settled with his
+sister at Racedown, Dorsetshire, in 1796. In the following year they
+removed to Alfoxden. It was during this period that he made the
+acquaintance of Coleridge. Wordsworth had already published (1793) two
+little volumes of poetry, entitled _Descriptive Sketches_ and _The
+Evening Walk_; but they showed little promise of the triumphs which were
+to crown his later life. In 1798 the first volume of the _Lyrical
+Ballads_ was published at Bristol, which purported to be the joint work
+of himself and Mr. Coleridge, but to which the latter contributed only
+"The Ancient Mariner" and two or three shorter poems. After some months
+spent in Germany, Wordsworth and his sister established themselves at
+Grasmere, in the lake country. In 1800 he published the second volume of
+the _Lyrical Ballads_, and in 1802 he married Mary Hutchinson. From 1799
+to 1814 he was mainly busy with his great philosophical poem, to be
+called "The Recluse," "containing views of Man, Nature, and Society," of
+which "The Prelude" was to be the introduction and "The Excursion" the
+Second and main Part. He designed that his minor pieces should be so
+arranged in connection with this work as to "give them claim to be
+likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses,
+ordinarily included in Gothic churches." This plan, however, was never
+carried out, as of the First and Third Parts only one book was written,
+and it has never been published. From 1814 until his death Wordsworth
+lived serenely and quietly at Rydal Mount, making occasional excursions
+into Scotland and Wales, and a tour upon the continent. In 1843, upon
+the death of Southey, he was appointed Poet-Laureate. His life was a
+long one, of steady work and much happiness. He died April 23, 1850.
+
+The distinguishing feature of Wordsworth's poetry is well set forth in
+his own words:
+
+     "The moving accident is not my trade,
+        To freeze the blood I have no ready arts;
+      'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,
+        To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts."
+                                     --_Hart-Leap Well, Part II._
+
+"Every great poet," he said, "is a teacher; I wish either to be
+considered as a teacher or as nothing."
+
+And he avowed that the purpose of his poetry was "to console the
+afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier; to
+teach the young and the gracious of every age _to see, to think and
+feel_, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous."
+
+     "Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,
+        His daily teachings had been woods and rills,
+      The silence that is in the starry sky,
+        The sleep that is among the lonely hills."
+
+"Wordsworth," says John Campbell Shairp, "was the first who, both in
+theory and practice, shook off the trammels of the so-called poetic
+diction which had tyrannized over English poetry for more than a
+century. This diction of course exactly represented the half-courtly,
+half-classical mode of thinking and feeling. As Wordsworth rebelled
+against this conventionality of spirit, so against the outward
+expression of it. The whole of the stock phrases and used-up metaphors
+he discarded, and returned to living language of natural feeling, as it
+is used by men, instead of the dead form of it which had got stereotyped
+in books. And just as in his subjects he had taken in from the waste
+much virgin soil, so in his diction he appropriated for poetic use a
+large amount of words, idioms, metaphors, till then by the poets
+disallowed. His shorter poems, both the earlier and the later, are, for
+the most part, very models of natural, powerful, and yet sensitive
+English; the language being, like a garment, woven out of, and
+transparent with, the thought."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= We are Seven; The Pet Lamb; To a Highland Girl;
+Laodamia; Matthew; The Fountain; The Wishing Gate; To the Small
+Celandine; "Three Years She Grew"; "She was a Phantom of Delight"; At
+the Grave of Burns.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Shairp's _Studies in Poetry and Philosophy_; Hazlitt's
+_English Poets_; De Quincey's _Miscellaneous Works_; _Literature and
+Life_, by E. P. Whipple; _Wordsworth_ (English Men of Letters), by
+Goldwin Smith; _Yesterdays with Authors_, by James T. Fields; _Among My
+Books_, Second Series, by J. R. Lowell; Matthew Arnold's Introduction to
+the Poems of William Wordsworth.
+
+
+
+
+Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTABEL.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+     'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
+     And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock,
+     Tu--whit!----Tu--whoo!
+     And hark, again! the crowing cock,
+     How drowsily it crew.
+
+     Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
+     Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;
+     From her kennel beneath the rock
+     She maketh answer to the clock,
+     Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
+     Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
+     Sixteen short howls, not over loud;
+     Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.
+
+     Is the night chilly and dark?
+     The night is chilly, but not dark.
+     The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
+     It covers but not hides the sky.
+     The moon is behind, and at the full;
+     And yet she looks both small and dull.
+     The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
+     'Tis a month before the month of May,
+     And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
+
+     The lovely lady, Christabel,
+     Whom her father loves so well,
+     What makes her in the wood so late,
+     A furlong from the castle gate?
+     She had dreams all yesternight
+     Of her own betrothed knight;
+     Dreams that made her moan and leap
+     As on her bed she lay in sleep;
+     And she in the midnight wood will pray
+     For the weal of her lover that's far away.
+
+     She stole along, she nothing spoke,
+     The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
+     And naught was green upon the oak
+     But moss and rarest mistletoe:
+     She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
+     And in silence prayeth she.
+
+     The lady sprang up suddenly,
+     The lovely lady, Christabel!
+     It moaned as near as near can be,
+     But what it is she cannot tell.--
+     On the other side it seems to be
+     Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.
+
+     The night is chill; the forest bare;
+     Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
+     There is not wind enough in the air
+     To move away the ringlet curl
+     From the lovely lady's cheek--
+     There is not wind enough to twirl
+     The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
+     That dances as often as dance it can,
+     Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
+     On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
+
+     Hush, beating heart of Christabel!
+     Jesu, Maria, shield her well!
+     She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
+     And stole to the other side of the oak.
+         What sees she there?
+
+     There she sees a damsel bright,
+     Drest in a silken robe of white,
+     That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
+     The neck that made that white robe wan,
+     Her stately neck and arms were bare;
+     Her blue-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,
+     And wildly glitter'd here and there,
+     The gems entangled in her hair.
+     I guess, 'twas frightful there to see
+     A lady so richly clad as she--
+     Beautiful exceedingly!
+
+     "Mary, mother, save me now!"
+     (Said Christabel,) "And who art thou?"
+
+     The lady strange made answer meet,
+     And her voice was faint and sweet:--
+     "Have pity on my sore distress,
+     I scarce can speak for weariness:
+     Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!"
+     Said Christabel, "How camest thou here?"
+     And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,
+     Did thus pursue her answer meet:--
+     "My sire is of a noble line,
+     And my name is Geraldine:
+     Five warriors seized me yestermorn,
+     Me, even me, a maid forlorn:
+     They choked my cries with force and fright,
+     And tied me on a palfrey white.
+     The palfrey was as fleet as wind,
+     And they rode furiously behind.
+     They spurred amain, their steeds were white:
+     And once we cross'd the shade of night.
+     As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,
+     I have no thought what men they be;
+     Nor do I know how long it is
+     (For I have lain entranced I wis)
+     Since one, the tallest of the five,
+     Took me from the palfrey's back,
+     A weary woman, scarce alive.
+     Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke:
+     He placed me underneath this oak;
+     He swore they would return with haste;
+     Whither they went I cannot tell--
+     I thought I heard, some minutes past,
+     Sounds as of a castle bell.
+     Stretch forth thy hand" (thus ended she),
+     "And help a wretched maid to flee."
+
+     Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand
+     And comforted fair Geraldine;
+     "O well, bright dame! may you command
+     The service of Sir Leoline;
+     And gladly our stout chivalry
+     Will he send forth and friends withal
+     To guide and guard you safe and free
+     Home to your noble father's hall."
+
+     She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd
+     That strove to be, and were not, fast.
+     Her gracious stars the lady blest,
+     And thus spake on sweet Christabel:
+     "All our household are at rest,
+     The hall is silent as the cell;
+     Sir Leoline is weak in health,
+     And may not well awaken'd be,
+     But we will move as if in stealth,
+     And I beseech your courtesy,
+     This night, to share your couch with me."
+
+     They cross'd the moat, and Christabel
+     Took the key that fitted well;
+     A little door she open'd straight,
+     All in the middle of the gate;
+     The gate that was iron'd within and without,
+     Where an army in battle array had march'd out.
+     The lady sank, belike through pain,
+     And Christabel with might and main
+     Lifted her up, a weary weight,
+     Over the threshold of the gate:
+     Then the lady rose again,
+     And moved, as she were not in pain.
+
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+     And Christabel devoutly cried
+     To the lady by her side;
+     "Praise we the Virgin all divine
+     Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!"
+     "Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,
+     "I cannot speak for weariness."
+     So free from danger, free from fear,
+     They cross'd the court: right glad they were.
+
+     Outside her kennel the mastiff old
+     Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.
+     The mastiff old did not awake,
+     Yet she an angry moan did make!
+     And what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+     Never till now she utter'd yell
+     Beneath the eye of Christabel.
+     Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:
+     For what can ail the mastiff bitch?
+
+     They pass'd the hall, that echoes still,
+     Pass as lightly as you will!
+     The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
+     Amid their own white ashes lying;
+     But when the lady pass'd, there came
+     A tongue of light, a fit of flame;
+     And Christabel saw the lady's eye,
+     And nothing else saw she thereby,
+     Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,
+     Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.
+     "O softly tread," said Christabel,
+     "My father seldom sleepeth well."
+
+     Sweet Christabel her feet both bare,
+     And, jealous of the listening air,
+     They steal their way from stair to stair,
+     Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
+     And now they pass the Baron's room,
+     And still as death, with stifled breath!
+     And now have reach'd her chamber door;
+     And now doth Geraldine press down
+     The rushes of the chamber floor.
+
+     The moon shines dim in the open air,
+     And not a moonbeam enters here.
+     But they without its light can see
+     The chamber carved so curiously,
+     Carved with figures strange and sweet,
+     All made out of the carver's brain,
+     For a lady's chamber meet:
+     The lamp with twofold silver chain
+     Is fasten'd to an angel's feet.
+
+     The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
+     But Christabel the lamp will trim.
+     She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,
+     And left it swinging to and fro,
+     While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
+     Sank down upon the floor below.
+
+     "O weary lady, Geraldine,
+     I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
+     It is a wine of virtuous powers;
+     My mother made it of wild flowers."
+
+     "And will your mother pity me,
+     Who am a maiden most forlorn?"
+     Christabel answered--"Woe is me!
+     She died the hour that I was born.
+     I have heard the gray-hair'd friar tell,
+     How on her death-bed she did say,
+     That she should hear the castle-bell
+     Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.
+     O mother dear! that thou wert here!"
+     "I would," said Geraldine, "she were!"
+
+     But soon with altered voice, said she--
+     "Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!
+     I have power to bid thee flee."
+     Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?
+     Why stares she with unsettled eye?
+     Can she the bodiless dead espy?
+     And why with hollow voice cries she,
+     "Off, woman, off! this hour is mine--
+     Though thou her guardian spirit be,
+     Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."
+
+     Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
+     And raised to heaven her eyes so blue--
+     "Alas!" said she, "this ghastly ride--
+     Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!"
+     The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
+     And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"
+
+     Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
+     Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
+     And from the floor whereon she sank,
+     The lofty lady stood upright:
+     She was most beautiful to see,
+     Like a lady of a far countrée.
+
+     And thus the lofty lady spake--
+     "All they who live in the upper sky,
+     Do love you, holy Christabel!
+     And you love them, and for their sake
+     And for the good which me befell,
+     Even I in my degree will try,
+     Fair maiden, to requite you well.
+     But now unrobe yourself; for I
+     Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."
+
+     Quoth Christabel, "So let it be!"
+     And as the lady bade, did she.
+     Her gentle limbs did she undress,
+     And lay down in her loveliness.
+
+     But through her brain of weal and woe
+     So many thoughts move to and fro,
+     That vain it were her lids to close;
+     So half-way from the bed she rose,
+     And on her elbow did recline
+     To look at the lady Geraldine.
+
+     Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,
+     And slowly roll'd her eyes around;
+     Then drawing in her breath aloud
+     Like one that shudder'd, she unbound
+     The cincture from beneath her breast;
+     Her silken robe and inner vest,
+     Dropt to her feet, and full in view,
+     Behold! her bosom and half her side--
+     A sight to dream of, not to tell!
+     O shield her! shield sweet Christabel.
+
+     Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;
+     Ah! what a stricken look was hers!
+     Deep from within seems half-way
+     To lift some weight with sick assay,
+     And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
+     Then suddenly as one defied
+     Collects herself in scorn and pride,
+     And lay down by the maiden's side!--
+     And in her arms the maid she took,
+         Ah, well-a-day!
+     And with low voice and doleful look
+         These words did say:
+     "In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell
+     Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!
+     Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow
+     This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;
+             But vainly thou warrest,
+               For this is alone in
+             Thy power to declare,
+               That in the dim forest
+             Thou heardest a low moaning,
+     And foundest a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
+     And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,
+     To shield her and shelter her from the damp air."
+
+
+NOTES
+
+The first part of the unfinished poem, "Christabel," was written in
+1797, the second part which, however, left the story apparently as
+incomplete as before, in 1808. The two parts were first published in
+1816. The poem is a picture of white innocence, purity, and truth,
+pursued and persecuted by the powers of evil. Its incompleteness seems
+to enhance its interest. "Completion could scarcely have failed to
+lessen its reality, for the reader could not have endured, neither could
+the poet's own theory have endured, the sacrifice of Christabel, the
+triumph of evil over good; and had she triumphed, there is a vulgar
+well-being in victory which has nothing to do with such a strain."
+
+"Such is the unfinished and unfinishable tale of Christabel--a poem
+which, despite its broken notes and over-brevity, has raised its author
+to the highest rank of poets, and which in itself is at once one of
+the sweetest, loftiest, most spiritual utterances that has ever
+been framed in English words. We know of no existing poem in any
+language to which we can compare it. It stands by itself exquisite,
+celestial, ethereal,--a song of the spheres,--yet full of such
+pathos and tenderness and sorrowful beauty as only humanity can
+give."--_Blackwood's Magazine_, 1871.
+
+It is worthy of note that "Christabel" was the immediate inspiration of
+Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel." "It is to Mr. Coleridge," says Sir
+Walter, "that I am bound to make the acknowledgment due from the pupil
+to his master." "But certainly," says Hales, "Scott himself never
+succeeded in surrounding any one of his works with so fine an atmosphere
+of glamour and romance."
+
+The language and metrical arrangement of this poem are not only peculiar
+but are in full accord with the weird and fantastic conception of the
+piece as a whole. The versification is based upon a principle not
+commonly practised--that of counting the number of accentuated words in
+a line instead of the number of syllables. Though the latter varies from
+seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents never exceed four. The
+result is an irregular, but strangely beautiful harmony of a kind that
+can hardly be attained through the ordinary methods of versification.
+
+This poem is to be studied for its exquisite beauty, for the true poetic
+qualities which it possesses and which distinguish it from mere verse.
+Hence, no explanatory notes are given with reference to any particular
+passage, nor is it desirable that it should be analyzed with a view to
+grammatical or philological study. It should be read and reread until
+the student is thoroughly in accord with the poetic spirit which
+breathes in and vivifies the entire production. "It was indolence, no
+doubt, that left the tale half told--indolence and misery--and a poetic
+instinct higher than all the better impulses of industry and virtuous
+gain. The subject by its very nature was incomplete; it had to be left a
+lovely, weird suggestion--a vision for every eye that could see."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery Saint Mary, October 21, 1772.
+He was educated at Christ's Hospital and at Jesus College, Cambridge. At
+the age of twenty-two he left the University without having taken a
+degree. He was an intimate friend of Charles Lamb and Southey, and with
+the latter formed a wild scheme for the founding of a "Pantisocratic
+State" in America, which, however, was soon abandoned. His first book of
+poetry was published in 1794. In 1796 he and Charles Lamb published a
+volume of poems together. He soon afterwards became acquainted with
+Wordsworth, and in 1798 the two brought out their famous volume of
+_Lyrical Ballads_, containing some of Wordsworth's best pieces and
+Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." "Christabel," after lying in manuscript
+for several years, was published in 1816, three editions being issued
+within twelve months. Coleridge's chief poems were published in 1817 in
+a collection entitled _Sibylline Leaves_, so called, he says, "in
+allusion to the fragmentary and wildly scattered state in which they had
+long been suffered to remain." At about the same time he was received
+into the house of Mr. Gillman, a surgeon residing at Highgate, in order
+to be cured if possible of his excessive use of opium. Here he produced
+his more important prose works, _Aids to Reflection_, and _On the
+Constitution of Church and State_; and here he died, July 25, 1834.
+
+Coleridge was forever planning and designing,--beginning a work and
+leaving its completion until to-morrow--which never came. He devoted his
+attention only sparingly to poetry--and that chiefly during his youth.
+Later in life he was occupied with political, social, and religious
+questions. "He was a living Hamlet, full of the most splendid thoughts
+and the noblest purposes, but a most incompetent doer." "His mind,"
+wrote Southey, "is a perpetual St. Vitus's dance--eternal activity
+without action."
+
+"Of Coleridge's best verses," says Swinburne, "I venture to affirm that
+the world has nothing like them, and can never have; that they are of
+the highest kind, and of their own. They are jewels of the diamond's
+price, flowers of the rose's rank, but unlike any rose or diamond
+known."
+
+"His best work is but little," says Stopford Brooke, "but of its kind it
+is perfect and unique. . . . All that he did excellently might be bound
+up in twenty pages, but it should be bound in pure gold."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Hymn before
+Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni; Ode to France; Genevieve.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Swinburne's _Studies and Essays_; Shairp's _Studies in
+Poetry_; Carlyle's _Reminiscences_; Coleridge's _Biographia Literaria_;
+De Quincey's _Essays_; _Coleridge_ (English Men of Letters), by H. D.
+Traill; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Hunt's _Imagination and Fancy_;
+Chorley's _Authors of England_; Walter Pater's _Apprecia_.
+
+
+
+
+Percy Bysshe Shelley.
+
+
+
+
+TO A SKYLARK
+
+
+               Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
+                 Bird thou never wert,
+               That from heaven, or near it,
+                 Pourest thy full heart
+     In profuse{1} strains of unpremeditated art.
+
+               Higher still, and higher,
+                 From the earth thou springest
+               Like a cloud of fire;
+                 The deep blue thou wingest,{2}
+     And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
+
+               In the golden lightning
+                 Of the sunken sun,{3}
+               O'er which clouds are brightening,
+                 Thou dost float and run,
+     Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
+
+               The pale purple even
+                 Melts around thy flight;
+               Like a star of heaven,
+                 In the broad daylight
+     Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
+
+               Keen as are the arrows
+                 Of that silver sphere,
+               Whose intense lamp narrows
+                 In the white dawn clear,
+     Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
+
+               All the earth and air
+                 With thy voice is loud,
+               As, when night is bare,
+                 From one lonely cloud
+     The moon rains{4} out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
+
+               What thou art we know not;--
+                 What is most like thee?
+               From rainbow clouds there flow not
+                 Drops so bright to see,
+     As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
+
+               Like a poet hidden
+                 In the light of thought,
+               Singing hymns unbidden,
+                 Till the world is wrought{5}
+     To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
+
+               Like a high-born maiden
+                 In a palace tower,
+               Soothing her love-laden
+                 Soul in secret hour
+     With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:
+
+               Like a glow-worm golden
+                 In a dell of dew,
+               Scattering unbeholden
+                 Its aërial hue
+     Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:
+
+               Like a rose embowered
+                 In its own green leaves,
+               By warm winds deflowered,
+                 Till the scent it gives
+     Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.
+
+               Sound of vernal showers
+                 On the twinkling grass,
+               Rain-awakened flowers,
+                 All that ever was
+     Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
+
+               Teach us, sprite{6} or bird,
+                 What sweet thoughts are thine:
+               I have never heard
+                 Praise of love or wine
+     That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
+
+               Chorus hymeneal,{7}
+                 Or triumphal chaunt,
+               Matched with thine would be all
+                 But an empty vaunt--
+     A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
+
+               What objects are the fountains
+                 Of thy happy strain?
+               What fields, or waves, or mountains?
+                 What shapes of sky or plain?
+     What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
+
+               With thy clear keen joyance
+                 Langour cannot be:
+               Shadow of annoyance
+                 Never came near thee:
+     Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
+
+               Waking or asleep;
+                 Thou of death must deem
+               Things more true and deep
+                 Than we mortals dream--
+     Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
+
+               We look before and after,
+                 And pine for what is not:{8}
+               Our sincerest laughter
+                 With some pain is fraught:
+     Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
+
+               Yet if we could scorn
+                 Hate, and pride, and fear;
+               If we were things born
+                 Not to shed a tear,
+     I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
+
+               Better than all measures
+                 Of delight and sound,
+               Better than all treasures
+                 That in books are found,
+     Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
+
+               Teach me half the gladness
+                 That thy brain must know,
+               Such harmonious madness
+                 From my lips would flow,
+     The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is perhaps the most perfect lyric of its kind in the English
+language. Every verse is worthy of careful study, and it should be read
+and reread until its exquisite melody is felt and the subtle thoughts
+which it embodies fully understood. Yet there is little in the poem
+which requires annotation--the lark's song itself admits of no
+explanation.
+
+"For sweetness the 'Ode to a Skylark' is inferior only to
+Coleridge, in rapturous passion to no man. It is like the bird
+it sings,--enthusiastic, enchanting, profuse, continuous, and
+alone,--small, but filling the heavens."--_Leigh Hunt._
+
+"Has any one, since Shakespeare and Spenser, lighted on such tender and
+such grand ecstasies?"--_Taine._
+
+The skylark is very generally distributed over the northern portions of
+the Old World, but is not found in America. Its song in the morning may
+often be heard when the bird is so high as to be entirely out of sight,
+and although not finely modulated is remarkably cheerful and prolonged.
+A person who is accustomed to the song can tell by its variations
+whether it be ascending, stationary, or descending.
+
+
+1. =profuse.= Accent here on the first syllable. From Lat. _profundo_, to
+pour forth.
+
+2. Explain the figures of rhetoric employed in this line. The meaning of
+=blue=; of =wingest=.
+
+3. =sunken sun.= The sun is not yet above the horizon, but the bird has
+risen so high that it is visible to him, and he "floats and runs" in its
+golden light.
+
+4. What is the meaning of =rains=? of =rain= in the next stanza?
+
+5. =wrought.= Influenced. A.-S. _worhte_, _wyrcan_, to work.
+
+6. =sprite.= Spirit. In the first stanza he calls the lark a spirit and
+says it never was a bird; here he calls it "bird or sprite."
+
+7. =Chorus hymeneal.= See note on "Prothalamion," page 241.
+
+8. Compare this thought with the ideas contained in Wordsworth's "Ode on
+the Intimations of Immortality."
+
+=pine.= From A.-S. _pinan_, to pain. Our word _pain_ is derived from the
+same root.
+
+
+
+
+HYMN OF PAN.
+
+
+           From the forests and highlands
+             We come, we come;
+           From the river-girt islands,
+             Where loud waves are dumb
+     Listening to my sweet pipings.
+           The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
+             The bees on the bells of thyme,
+           The birds on the myrtle-bushes,
+             The cicale above in the lime,
+           And the lizards below in the grass,
+     Were as silent as ever old Tmolus{1} was,
+         Listening to my sweet pipings.
+
+         Liquid Peneus{2} was flowing,
+           And all dark Tempe lay
+         In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
+           The light of the dying day,
+         Speeded by my sweet pipings.
+           The Sileni{3} and Sylvans and Fauns,
+             And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
+           To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
+             And the brink of the dewy caves,
+     And all that did then attend and follow,
+     Were silent with love,--as you now, Apollo,{4}
+         With envy of my sweet pipings.
+
+         I sang of the dancing stars,
+           I sang of the dædal{5} earth,
+         And of heaven, and the Giant wars,{6}
+           And love, and death, and birth,
+         And then I changed my pipings,--
+         Singing how down the vale of Mænalus
+           I pursued a maiden,{7} and clasped a reed:
+         Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;
+           It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
+         All wept--as I think both ye now would,
+         If envy or age had not frozen your blood--
+             At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pan, as described in the Homeric hymns, is "lord of all the hills and
+dales": sometimes he ranges along the tops of the mountains; sometimes
+pursues the game in the valleys, roams through the woods, or floats
+along the streams; or drives his sheep into a cave, and there plays on
+his reeds music not to be excelled by that of the sweetest singing
+birds; and
+
+        "With him the clear-singing mountain-nymphs
+      Move quick their feet, by the dark-watered spring
+      In the soft mead, where crocus, hyacinths,
+      Fragrant and blooming, mingle with the grass
+      Confused, and sing, while echo peals around
+      The mountain's top."
+
+Keats, in "Endymion," thus apostrophizes Pan:
+
+     "O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,
+      While ever and anon to his shorn peers
+      A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
+      When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn
+      Anger our huntsmen: Breather round our farms,
+      To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:
+      Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,
+      That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,
+      And wither drearily on barren moors:
+      Dread opener of the mysterious doors
+      Leading to universal knowledge--see,
+      Great son of Dryope,
+      The many that are come to pay their vows
+      With leaves about their brows!"
+
+
+1. =Tmolus.= It was Tmolus who acted as umpire in the musical contest
+between Pan and Apollo. This contest is directly referred to throughout
+this poem.
+
+2. =Peneus.= The chief river of Thessaly. It flows through the Vale of
+Tempe, and between the mountains Ossa and Pelion, emptying finally into
+the Ægean Sea. (See map of ancient Greece.)
+
+3. =Sileni.= A name applied to the older satyrs. They were fond of wine
+and of every kind of sensual pleasure, and hence represented the
+luxuriant powers of nature, and were connected with the worship of
+Bacchus.
+
+=Sylvans.= Deities of the fields and forests.
+
+=Fauns.= Gods of the shepherds, flocks, and fields. A faun was usually
+represented as half man and half goat.
+
+4. =Apollo.= One of the chief divinities of the Greeks; the god of music
+and song, of prophecy, of the flocks and herds, of the founding of
+towns, and of the sun. He was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born on
+the island of Delos. His favorite oracle was at Delphi.
+
+5. =dædal.= Labyrinthine, wonderful. From Dædalus, a famous Athenian
+architect, who designed the labyrinth at Crete in which the Minotaur was
+kept.
+
+6. =Giant wars.= The wars of the Titans,--the contest in which Zeus
+overcame and deposed his father, Chronos, and made himself supreme ruler
+of the universe. The Titans, who were opposed to him, were overcome, and
+hurled into the lowest depths of Tartarus.
+
+=Mænalus.= A mountain in Arcadia, celebrated as the favorite haunt of Pan.
+
+7. =maiden.= Syrinx, a nymph of Arcadia, devoted to the service of
+Artemis. "As she was returning one day from the chase, Pan saw and loved
+her; but when he would address her, she fled. The god pursued. She
+reached the river Ladon, and, unable to cross it, implored the aid of
+her sister nymphs; and when Pan thought to grasp the object of his
+pursuit, he found his arms filled with reeds. At that moment the wind
+began to agitate the reeds and produced a low musical sound. The god
+took the hint, cut seven of the twigs, and formed from them his
+_syrinx_, or pastoral pipe." See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_.
+
+
+
+
+FROM "EPIPSYCHIDION."
+
+
+                                     Emily,
+     A ship is floating in the harbor now;
+     A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;
+     There is a path on the sea's azure floor,--
+     No keel has ever ploughed that path before;
+     The halcyons{1} brood around the foamless isles;
+     The treacherous ocean has forsworn its wiles;
+     The merry mariners are bold and free:
+     Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?
+     Our bark is as an albatross whose nest
+     Is a far Eden of the purple east;
+     And we between her wings will sit, while Night
+     And Day and Storm and Calm pursue their flight,
+     Our ministers, along the boundless sea,
+     Treading each other's heels, unheededly.
+     It is an isle under Ionian{2} skies,
+     Beautiful as a wreck of paradise;
+     And, for{3} the harbors are not safe and good,
+     This land would have remained a solitude
+     But for some pastoral people native there,
+     Who from the elysian, clear, and golden air
+     Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,{4}--
+     Simple and spirited, innocent and bold.
+     The blue Ægean girds this chosen home,
+     With ever-changing sound and light and foam
+     Kissing the sifted sands and caverns hoar;
+     And all the winds wandering along the shore
+     Undulate with the undulating tide.
+     There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;
+     And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond,
+     As clear as elemental diamond,
+     Or serene morning air. And far beyond,
+     The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer
+     (Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)
+     Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls
+     Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls
+     Illumining, with sound that never fails,
+     Accompany the noonday nightingales.
+     And all the place is peopled with sweet airs.{5}
+     The light clear element which the isle wears
+     Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,
+     Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,
+     And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;
+     And from the moss violets and jonquils peep,
+     And dart their arrowy odor through the brain,
+     Till you might faint with that delicious pain.
+     And every motion, odor, beam, and tone,
+     With that deep music is in unison:
+     Which is a soul within the soul,--they seem
+     Like echoes of an antenatal dream.{6}
+     It is an isle 'twixt heaven, air, earth, and sea,
+     Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity;
+     Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer,{7}
+     Washed by the soft blue oceans of young air.{8}
+     It is a favored place. Famine or blight,
+     Pestilence, war, and earthquake, never light
+     Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they
+     Sail onward far upon their fatal way.
+     The wingèd storms, chaunting their thunder-psalm
+     To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm
+     Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,
+     From which its fields and woods ever renew
+     Their green and golden immortality.
+     And from the sea there rise, and from the sky
+     There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,
+     Veil after veil, each hiding some delight:
+     Which sun or moon or zephyr draw aside,
+     Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride
+     Glowing at once with love and loveliness,
+     Blushes and trembles at its own excess.
+     Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less
+     Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,
+     An atom of the Eternal, whose own smile
+     Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen
+     O'er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green,
+     Filling their bare and void interstices.
+     This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed
+     Thee to be lady of the solitude.
+     And I have fitted up some chambers there
+     Looking towards the golden eastern air,
+     And level with the living winds which flow
+     Like waves above the living waves below.
+     I have sent books and music there, and all
+     Those instruments with which high spirits call
+     The future from its cradle, and the past
+     Out of its grave, and make the present last
+     In thoughts and joys which sleep but cannot die,
+     Folded within their own eternity.
+     Our simple life wants little, and true taste
+     Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste
+     The scene it would adorn; and therefore still
+     Nature with all her children haunts the hill.
+     The ringdove in the embowering ivy yet
+     Keeps up her love-lament; and the owls flit
+     Round the evening tower; and the young stars glance
+     Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;
+     The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight
+     Before our gate; and the slow silent night
+     Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep.
+     Be this our home in life; and, when years heap
+     Their withered hours like leaves on our decay,
+     Let us become the overhanging day,
+     The living soul, of this elysian isle--
+     Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile
+     We two will rise and sit and walk together
+     Under the roof of blue Ionian weather;
+     And wander in the meadows; or ascend
+     The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend
+     With lightest winds to touch their paramour;{9}
+     Or linger where the pebble-paven shore
+     Under the quick faint kisses of the sea
+     Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy;--
+     Possessing and possessed by all that is
+     Within that calm circumference of bliss,
+     And by each other, till to love and live
+     Be one. . . .
+     We shall become the same, we shall be one
+     Spirit within two frames, oh wherefore two?
+     One passion in twin hearts, which grows and grew
+     Till, like two meteors of expanding flame,
+     Those spheres instinct with it become the same,
+     Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still
+     Burning, yet ever inconsumable;
+     In one another's substance finding food,
+     Light flames too pure and light and unimbued
+     To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,
+     Which point to heaven and cannot pass away:
+     One hope within two wills, one will beneath
+     Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,
+     One heaven, one hell, one immortality,
+     And one annihilation!
+
+                           Woe is me!
+     The wingèd words on which my soul would pierce
+     Into the height of Love's rare universe
+     Are chains of lead around its flight of fire--
+     I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"A clever but disreputable professor at Pisa one day related to Shelley
+the sad story of a beautiful and noble lady, the Contessina Emilia
+Viviani, who had been confined by her father in a dismal convent of the
+suburbs, to await her marriage with a distasteful husband." Shelley,
+fired as ever by a tale of tyranny, was eager to visit the fair captive.
+The professor accompanied him and Medwin to the convent parlor, where
+they found her more lovely than even the most glowing descriptions had
+led them to expect. Nor was she only beautiful. Shelley soon discovered
+that she had "cultivated her mind beyond what I have ever met with in
+Italian women"; and a rhapsody composed by her upon the subject of
+Uranian Love--"Il Vero Amore"--justifies the belief that she possessed
+an intellect of more than ordinary elevation. He took Mrs. Shelley to
+see her; and both did all they could to make her convent prison less
+irksome by frequent visits, by letters, by presents of flowers and
+books. It was not long before Shelley's sympathy for this unfortunate
+lady took the form of love, which, however spiritual and Platonic, was
+not the less passionate. The result was the composition of
+"Epipsychidion," the most unintelligible of all his poems to those who
+have not assimilated the spirit of Plato's _Symposium_ and Dante's _Vita
+Nuova_.--_J. A. Symonds._
+
+W. M. Rossetti characterizes this poem as "a pure outpouring of poetry;
+a brimming and bubbling fountain of freshness and music, magical with
+its own spray rainbows."
+
+A year after its composition, Shelley wrote: "The 'Epipsychidion' I
+cannot look at. If you are curious, however, to hear what I am and have
+been, it will tell you something thereof. It is an idealized history of
+my life and feelings."
+
+
+=Epipsychidion.= From Gr. _epi_, upon, and _psyche_, the soul. This poem
+is addressed "to the noble and unfortunate Lady Emilia Viviani, now
+imprisoned in the Convent of St. Anne, Pisa," and was written in 1821.
+
+1. =halcyons.= Kingfishers. Halcyone was the daughter of Æolus and wife of
+Ceyx. When her husband died she was changed into a bird,--the
+kingfisher,--and, floating over the sea, she still calls for the lost
+Ceyx in tones full of plaining and tears. And "whensoever she makes her
+nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
+weather--days distinguishable among all others for their serenity."
+
+2. =Ionian.= Greek. See the expression "Under the roof of blue Ionian
+weather," below. Explain its meaning.
+
+3. =for.= Since, because.
+
+=elysian.= Heavenly. Pertaining to Elysium, the islands of the blest, the
+Elysian fields.
+
+4. =age of gold.= Compare Milton, "Hymn on the Nativity" (see note 36,
+page 192. See, also, poem by John Lydgate, page 275).
+
+5. =peopled with sweet airs.= Filled with sweet music.
+
+6. =antenatal dream.= See Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of
+Immortality" (also, note 13, page 47).
+
+     "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting."
+
+7. =Lucifer.= Venus when seen in the morning, rising before the sun is
+called Lucifer, the light-bearer. From Lat. _lux_, light, and _fero_, to
+bear (see note 18, page 189). The same star when seen in the evening,
+following the sun, is called Hesperus.
+
+8. =blue oceans of young air.= Explain.
+
+9. =paramour.= See Milton's "Ode on the Nativity," stanza i.
+
+     "It was no reason then for her
+      To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour."
+
+Milton makes the sun the paramour of the earth; Shelley, the earth the
+paramour of the sky.
+
+
+
+
+A LAMENT.
+
+
+     Swifter far than summer's flight,
+     Swifter far than youth's delight,
+     Swifter far than happy night,
+           Art thou come and gone:
+     As the earth when leaves are dead,
+     As the night when sleep is sped,
+     As the heart when joy is fled,
+           I am left alone, alone.
+
+     The swallow Summer comes again,
+     The owlet Night resumes her reign,
+     But the wild swan Youth is fain
+           To fly with thee, false as thou.
+     My heart each day desires the morrow,
+     Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,
+     Vainly would my winter borrow
+           Sunny leaves from any bough.
+
+     Lilies for a bridal bed,
+     Roses for a matron's head,
+     Violets for a maiden dead,
+           Pansies let my flowers be:
+     On the living grave I bear,
+     Scatter them without a tear,
+     Let no friend, however dear,
+           Waste one hope, one fear, for me.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex,
+August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eton and at Oxford. While a student
+at the latter place, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled _The Necessity of
+Atheism_, which caused his expulsion from college. This occurred in
+1811, and in the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, from whom,
+three years later, he separated. In 1816 he married Mary Godwin. In 1818
+he left England for Italy, where he remained until his death by drowning
+in the gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. His first considerable poem, "Queen
+Mab," was published in 1813; "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," in
+1816; "The Revolt of Islam," in 1818; and "Epipsychidion" and "Adonais"
+in 1821. His two dramas, the "Cenci" and "Prometheus Unbound," were
+issued, the former in 1819, the latter in 1821.
+
+"Shelley's early rupture with the English world," says Hales, "lost him
+all the advantages which a fuller experience of it and a longer
+intercourse with it might have given. That world was no less estranged
+from him than he from it. It misunderstood and misinterpreted him
+throughout his career. It covered him with its opprobrium. Assuredly, he
+was not the man that world painted. It by no means follows that because
+Shelley did not repeat the ordinary creeds, and even mocked at them,
+that he believed nothing. Shelley was never in his soul an atheist: it
+was simply impossible with his nature that he should be; what he did
+deny and defy was a deity whose worship seemed, as he saw the world,
+consistent with the reign of selfishness and bigotry."
+
+Lord Macaulay says: "We doubt whether any modern poet has possessed in
+an equal degree some of the highest qualities of the great ancient
+masters. The words _bard_ and _inspiration_, which seem so cold and
+affected when applied to other modern writers, have a perfect propriety
+when applied to him. He was not an author, but a bard. His poetry seems
+not to have been an art, but an inspiration. Had he lived to the full
+age of man, he might not improbably, have given to the world some great
+work of the very highest rank in design and execution."
+
+Leigh Hunt says: "Assuredly, had he lived, he would have been the
+greatest dramatic writer since the days of Elizabeth. In general, if
+Coleridge is the sweetest of our poets, Shelley is at once the most
+ethereal and most gorgeous--the one who has clothed his thoughts in
+draperies of the most evanescent and most magnificent words and imagery.
+His poetry is as full of mountains, seas, and skies, of light, and
+darkness, and the seasons, and all the elements of our being, as if
+Nature herself had written it, with the Creation and its hopes newly
+cast around her, not, it must be confessed, without too indiscriminate a
+mixture of great and small, and a want of sufficient shade--a certain
+chaotic brilliancy, 'dark with excess of light.'"
+
+Another English poet says: "Shelley outsang all poets on record but some
+two or three throughout all time; his depths and heights of inner and
+outer music are as divine as nature's, and not sooner exhaustible. He
+was alone the perfect singing-god; his thoughts, words, deeds, all sang
+together."
+
+"The poet who creates a new ideal, and fills men's hearts with the flame
+of a divine desire, is a practical force in the stream of human
+development--and this Shelley has done. So much of his poetry is full of
+the tender melancholy of the moonlight he loved, that the world is still
+half blind to his highest bardic character, as the poet of a spiritual
+dawn, the eager spirit who flies forward--
+
+     "Calling the lapsèd soul,
+     And weeping in the morning dew."
+
+Even his moonlight seems to reflect the beams of some unrisen sun; and
+his sunlight has all the ethereal exhilaration of that of the first
+hours of a glorious day."--_John Todhunter._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Adonais; The Sensitive Plant; The Cloud; Mount
+Blanc; To Wordsworth; The Euganean Hills; Liberty; Alastor; Prometheus
+Unbound.
+
+
+REFERENCES: De Quincey's _Essays_; Jeaffreson's _The Real Shelley_;
+_Shelley_ (English Men of Letters), by J. A. Symonds; Leigh Hunt's
+_Imagination and Fancy_; Rossetti's _Memoir of Shelley_; Dowden's _Life
+of P. B. Shelley_; Moore's _Life of Lord Byron_; Middleton's _Shelley
+and his Writings_; Medwin's _Life of Shelley_; Trelawney's
+_Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron_; Todhunter's
+_Shelley: A Study_.
+
+
+
+
+John Keats.
+
+
+
+
+ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE.
+
+
+I
+
+     My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
+       My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
+     Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
+       One minute past, and Lethe-wards{1} had sunk:
+     'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
+       But being too happy in thy happiness,--
+         That thou, light-winged Dryad{2} of the trees,
+               In some melodious plot
+       Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
+         Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
+
+
+II.
+
+     O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
+       Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
+     Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
+       Dance, and Provençal song,{3} and sun-burnt mirth!
+     O for a beaker full of the warm South,
+       Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,{4}
+         With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
+               And purple-stained mouth;
+       That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
+         And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
+
+
+III.
+
+     Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
+       What thou among the leaves hast never known,
+     The weariness, the fever, and the fret
+       Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
+     Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
+       Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
+         Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
+               And leaden-eyed despairs;
+       Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
+         Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
+
+
+IV.
+
+     Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
+       Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,{5}
+     But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
+       Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
+     Already with thee! tender is the night,
+       And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
+         Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
+               But here there is no light,
+     Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
+       Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
+
+
+V.
+
+     I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
+       Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
+     But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
+       Wherewith the seasonable month endows
+     The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
+       White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;{6}
+       Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;
+               And mid-May's eldest child,
+     The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
+       The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.
+
+
+VI.
+
+     Darkling{7} I listen; and for many a time
+       I have been half in love with easeful Death,
+     Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
+       To take into the air my quiet breath;
+     Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
+       To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
+         While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
+               In such an ecstasy!
+     Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
+       To thy high requiem{8} become a sod.
+
+
+VII.
+
+     Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
+       No hungry generations tread thee down;
+     The voice I hear this passing night was heard
+       In ancient days by emperor and clown:
+     Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
+       Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
+         She stood in tears amid the alien corn{9};
+               The same that oft-times hath
+     Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
+       Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+     Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
+       To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
+     Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
+       As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
+     Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
+       Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
+         Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
+               In the next valley-glades:
+       Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
+         Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This poem," says Leigh Hunt, "was written in a house at the foot of
+Highgate Hill, on the border of the fields looking towards Hampstead.
+The poet had then his mortal illness upon him, and knew it; never was
+the voice of death sweeter."
+
+
+1. =Lethe-wards.= That is, towards Lethe. Lethe was one of the rivers of
+Hell. Its name means "forgetfulness." Milton describes it thus:
+
+                      "A slow and silent stream,
+      Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
+      Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks
+      Forthwith his former state and being forgets--
+      Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."
+
+--_Paradise Lost_, ii, 583.
+
+2. =Dryad.= A wood-nymph. From Gr. _drus_, an oak tree. The life of the
+Dryad was supposed to be bound up with that of her tree.
+
+"The quickening power of the soul, like Martha, is 'busy about many
+things,' or, like a Dryad, living in a tree."--_Sir John Davis._
+
+3. =Provençal song.= Song of the troubadours, a school of lyric poets that
+flourished in Provence, in the south of France, from the eleventh to the
+thirteenth century. A love song.
+
+4. =Hippocrene.= The "Fountain of the Horse" (_Fons Caballinus_). A
+fountain on Mount Helicon, Boeotia, sacred to the Muses. It was said
+to have been produced by the horse Pegasus striking the ground with his
+feet. Its waters were supposed to be a source of poetical inspiration.
+
+Longfellow, in "The Goblet of Life," says:
+
+     "No purple flowers--no garlands green,
+      Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,
+      Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,
+      Like gleams of sunshine, flash between
+            Thick leaves of mistletoe."
+
+5. =Bacchus and his pards.= Bacchus was frequently represented as riding
+on the back of a leopard, a tiger, or a lion, or in a chariot drawn by
+panthers.
+
+=pards.= Spotted beasts.
+
+See Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," third stanza, page 160.
+
+6. Compare with Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act ii, sc.
+i:
+
+     "I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
+      Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
+      Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
+      With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."
+
+7. =darkling.= In the dark. The word is very rarely used.
+
+8. =requiem.= A dirge, or funeral song. "So called from the first word in
+the Catholic mass for the dead, _Requiem æternum dona iis Domine_ (Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord)."--_Brand._
+
+=become a sod.= Compare with Ecclesiastes, xii, 7: "Then shall the dust
+return to the earth as it was."
+
+9. =alien corn.= See Ruth, ii. Why _alien_ corn? Longfellow, in his poem
+on "Flowers," says:
+
+     "Everywhere about us they are glowing--
+        Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;
+      Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
+        Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."
+
+
+
+
+FROM "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES."
+
+
+       Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
+       And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
+       As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
+       Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
+       And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
+       And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
+       She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
+       Save wings, for heaven:--Porphyro grew faint:
+     She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
+
+       Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
+       Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
+       Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
+       Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
+       Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
+       Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
+       Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
+       In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
+     But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
+
+       Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
+       In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay,
+       Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed
+       Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
+       Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
+       Blissfully havened both from joy and pain;
+       Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray:
+       Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
+     As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
+
+       Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,
+       Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
+       And listened to her breathing, if it chanced
+       To wake into a slumberous tenderness;
+       Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
+       And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,
+       Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
+       And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept,
+     And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!--how fast she slept.
+
+       Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
+       Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
+       A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon
+       A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:--
+       O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
+       The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
+       The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,
+       Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:--
+     The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.
+
+       And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
+       In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,
+       While he from forth the closet brought a heap
+       Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
+       With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
+       And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;
+       Manna and dates, in argosy transferred
+       From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
+     From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.
+
+       These delicates he heaped with glowing hand
+       On golden dishes and in baskets bright
+       Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
+       In the retired quiet of the night,
+       Filling the chilly room with perfume light.--
+       "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
+       Thou art mine heaven, and I thine eremite:
+       Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,
+     Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."
+
+       Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
+       Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
+       By the dusk curtains:--'twas a midnight charm
+       Impossible to melt as iced stream:
+       The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
+       Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
+       It seemed he never, never could redeem
+       From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;
+     So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.
+
+       Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,--
+       Tumultuous,--and, in chords that tenderest be,
+       He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
+       In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy":
+       Close to her ear touching the melody;--
+       Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan:
+       He ceased--she panted quick--and suddenly
+       Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
+     Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.
+
+       Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
+       Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
+       There was a painful change, that nigh expelled
+       The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.
+       At which fair Madeline began to weep,
+       And moan forth witless words with many a sigh
+       While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
+       Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
+     Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.
+
+       "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
+       Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
+       Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
+       And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
+       How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
+       Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
+       Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
+       Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,
+     For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."
+
+       Beyond a mortal man impassioned far
+       At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
+       Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star
+       Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;
+       Into her dream he melted, as the rose
+       Blendeth its odor with the violet,--
+       Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
+       Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
+     Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.
+
+       'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
+       "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
+       'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
+       "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!
+       Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.--
+       Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
+       I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,
+       Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;--
+     A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."
+
+       "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
+       Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
+       Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?
+       Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
+       After so many hours of toil and quest,
+       A famished pilgrim,--saved by miracle.
+       Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest,
+       Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
+     To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."
+
+       "Hark!'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
+       Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
+       Arise--arise! the morning is at hand;--
+       The bloated wassailers will never heed:--
+       Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
+       There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,--
+       Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
+       Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
+     For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."
+
+       She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
+       For there were sleeping dragons all around,
+       At glaring watch, perhaps with ready spears--
+       Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,
+       In all the house was heard no human sound.
+       A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;
+       The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
+       Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;
+     And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
+
+       They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall!
+       Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,
+       Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
+       With a huge empty flagon by his side:
+       The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
+       But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
+       By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:--
+       The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;
+     The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.
+
+       And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
+       These lovers fled away into the storm.
+       That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
+       And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
+       Of witch and demon and large coffin-worm,
+       Were long be-nightmared. Angela, the old,
+       Died palsy-twitch'd with meagre face deform;
+       The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
+       For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"The Eve of St. Agnes" is one of the finest of Keats's shorter poems.
+Leigh Hunt describes it as "the most complete specimen of his genius;
+exquisitely loving; young, but full-grown poetry of the rarest
+description; graceful as the beardless Apollo; glowing and gorgeous with
+the colors of romance." The stanzas here quoted, while comprising the
+main portion of the story, are not quite half of the entire poem.
+
+Madeline, the beautiful daughter of a rude and rich old baron, is
+secretly betrothed to Porphyro, a young man whom her father has sworn to
+slay. On the eve of St. Agnes a great feast is in progress in the
+baron's castle. Porphyro, at the risk of his life, "comes across the
+moors, with heart on fire for Madeline." With the aid of the old nurse,
+Angela, he gains admission into the castle and is concealed in a closet,
+where he conceives the plan for their elopement. In the meanwhile,
+Madeline, having danced with her father's guests, retires to her room,
+her mind full of the thought of Porphyro, and intent upon testing the
+truth of the belief, then current, that on this evening, maidens might,
+if they performed certain ceremonies and forms, be vouchsafed a sight of
+their future husbands.
+
+St. Agnes was a young virgin of Palermo, who is said to have suffered
+martyrdom at the age of thirteen, in the Diocletian persecution, about
+A.D. 304. Her feast was celebrated on the 21st of January.
+
+With reference to the versification of this poem, see what is said of
+the Spenserian stanza, page 232. There are many imitations of Spenser in
+these verses.
+
+The student is desired to discover for himself the peculiarities of
+thought, of feeling, of expression, which give interest and beauty to
+this production. The following are a few of the words and expressions
+whose meaning he should study: "Gules"; "taint"; "vespers"; "poppied";
+"Swart Paynims"; "Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness"; "Morphean
+amulet"; "affray"; "azure-lidded sleep"; "argosy"; "missal"; "tinct";
+"Fez"; "Samarcand"; "Lebanon"; "eremite"; "witless"; "alarum"; "entoiled
+in woofed phantasies"; "La belle dame sans mercy"; "heart-shaped and
+vermeil dyed"; "Of haggard seeming"; "arras."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN KEATS was born October 29, 1795, in Moorfields, London. He was sent
+to school at Enfield, where he gained the rudiments of a classical
+education; but, his father having died when John was a mere child, he
+was apprenticed at an early age to a surgeon in Edmonton. When seventeen
+years old a copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene" fell into his hands, and
+the perusal of that great poem was the beginning, for him, of a new
+life. He felt the poetic instinct within him, and resolved that he too
+would be a poet. In 1817 he published a small volume of poems, which
+attracted but little attention; and in 1818 his more ambitious effort,
+"Endymion," was presented to the world. The latter poem was unkindly
+received by the great reviews. The author was advised to "go back to his
+gallipots," and told that "a starved apothecary was better than a
+starved poet." A story was long current that these severe criticisms
+induced Keats's early death, but this is entirely improbable. He
+continued writing, although consumption, a hereditary disease in his
+family, had already begun its work upon him. He published "The Eve of
+St. Agnes" in 1820, and had made some progress with a noble poem,
+entitled "Hyperion," which Lord Byron declared to be "actually inspired
+by the Titans, and as sublime as Æschylus." In September of that year he
+sailed for Italy, but the hope of prolonging life by a change of climate
+proved to be vain. On the 27th of February, 1821, he died at Rome.
+
+"We can hardly be wrong in believing," says Masson, "that had Keats
+lived to the ordinary age of man, he would have been one of the greatest
+of all our poets. As it is, I believe we shall all be disposed to place
+him very near indeed to our very best."
+
+"That which was deepest in his mind," says Stopford Brooke, "was the
+love of loveliness for its own sake, the sense of its rightful and
+pre-eminent power; and, in the singleness of worship which he gave to
+Beauty, Keats is especially the artist, and the true father of the
+latest modern school of poetry."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Endymion; Ode on a Grecian Urn; Lamia; Hyperion;
+To Autumn; Hymn to Apollo; Isabella.
+
+
+REFERENCES: _Keats_ (English Men of Letters), by Sidney Colvin; _Keats_,
+by W. M. Rossetti; Matthew Arnold's Essay on Keats, in Ward's _English
+Poets_; Shairp's _Studies in Poetry_.
+
+
+
+
+The Eighteenth Century.
+
+
+"_The influence of the poetry of the past lasted; new elements were
+added to poetry, and new forms of it took shape. The study of the Greek
+and Latin classics revived, and with it a more artistic poetry. Not only
+correct form, for which Pope sought, but beautiful form was sought
+after. Men like Thomas Gray and William Collins strove to pour into
+their work that simplicity of beauty which the Greek poets and Italians
+like Petrarca had reached as the last result of genius restrained by
+art. . . . Two things had been learned. First, that artistic rules were
+necessary, and, secondly, that natural feeling was necessary in order
+that poetry should have a style fitted to express nobly the emotions and
+thoughts of man. The way was therefore now made ready for a style in
+which the Art should itself be Nature, and it sprang at once into being
+in the work of the poets of this time. The style of Gray is polished to
+the finest point, and yet it is instinct with natural feeling. Goldsmith
+is natural even to simplicity, and yet his verse is even more accurate
+than Pope's. Cowper's style, in such poems as the 'Lines to my Mother's
+Picture,' arises out of the simplest pathos, and yet it is as pure in
+expression as Greek poetry._"--STOPFORD BROOKE.
+
+"_At last there started up an unfortunate Scotch peasant (Burns),
+rebelling against the world, and in love, with the yearnings, lusts,
+greatness, and irrationality of modern genius. Now and then behind his
+plough, he lighted on genuine verses, verses such as Heine and Alfred de
+Musset have written in our own days. In those few words, combined after
+a new fashion, there was a revolution._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Eighteenth Century.
+
+=Alexander Pope= (1688-1744). See biographical note, page 155.
+
+=Thomas Parnell= (1679-1718). "The Hermit"; short poems.
+
+=Edward Young= (1684-1765), "Night Thoughts"; "The Last Day";
+"Resignation."
+
+=Allan Ramsay= (1686-1758). "The Gentle Shepherd": "Scots Songs"; "Fables
+and Tales."
+
+=John Gay= (1688-1732). "The Beggar's Opera"; "The Shepherd's Week";
+"Trivia"; "Rural Sports"; fables, and other short poems.
+
+=Matthew Green= (1696-1737). "The Grotto"; "The Spleen."
+
+=John Dyer= (1698-1758). "Grongar Hill"; "The Fleece."
+
+=Robert Blair= (1699-1746). "The Grave."
+
+=James Thomson= (1700-1748). "The Seasons"; "The Castle of Indolence."
+
+=Samuel Johnson= (1709-1784), "The Vanity of Human Wishes"; "London."
+
+=Richard Glover= (1712-1785). "Leonidas"; "Admiral Hosier's Ghost"; "The
+Athenaid."
+
+=William Shenstone= (1714-1763). "The Schoolmistress"; "Pastoral Ballads."
+
+=Thomas Gray= (1716-1771). See biographical note, page 139.
+
+=William Collins= (1721-1759). Odes and other short poems.
+
+=Mark Akenside= (1721-1770). "The Pleasures of the Imagination."
+
+=Oliver Goldsmith= (1728-1774). See biographical note, page 128.
+
+=Thomas Warton= (1728-1790). "The Pleasures of Melancholy"; "The Triumph
+of Isis"; short poems.
+
+=William Cowper= (1731-1800). See biographical note, page 122.
+
+=Charles Churchill= (1731-1764). "The Prophecy of Famine"; "The Rosciad."
+
+=James Beattie= (1735-1803). "The Minstrel."
+
+=Robert Fergusson= (1750-1774). Short Scottish poems.
+
+=Thomas Chatterton= (1752-1770). "Poems of Thomas Rowlie"; short poems.
+
+=George Crabbe= (1754-1832). "Tales of the Hall"; "The Village"; "The
+Parish Register"; "Tales in Verse."
+
+=William Blake= (1757-1827). "Songs of Innocence"; "Songs of Experience";
+"Poetical Sketches."
+
+=Robert Burns= (1759-1796). See biographical note, page 111.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Burns.
+
+
+
+
+THE COTTER'S{1} SATURDAY NIGHT.
+
+INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.{2}
+
+     Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
+       Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
+     Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
+       The short but simple annals of the Poor.{3}--_Gray._
+
+
+     My loved, my honored, much respected friend!
+     No mercenary bard his homage pays;
+     With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
+     My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:
+     To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,{4}
+     The lowly train{5} in life's sequestered scene;
+     The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;
+     What Aiken in a cottage would have been;
+     Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there I ween.
+
+     November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;{6}
+     The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
+     The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
+     The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose;
+     The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,--
+     This night his weekly moil is at an end,--
+     Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
+     Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
+     And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.{7}
+
+     At length his lonely cot appears in view,
+     Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
+     Th' expectant wee things toddlin', stacher thro'
+     To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
+     His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,
+     His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wine's smile,
+     The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
+     Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
+     An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.{8}
+
+     Belyve, the elder bairns{9} come drapping in,
+     At service out, amang the farmers roun';
+     Some ca'{10} the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
+     A cannie errand to a neibor{11} town:
+     Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
+     In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,
+     Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,
+     Or deposit{12} her sair-won penny-fee,{13}
+     To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
+
+     Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,
+     An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:
+     The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;
+     Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;
+     The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years,
+     Anticipation forward points the view.
+     The mother wi' her needle an' her shears,
+     Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;
+     The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
+
+     Their master's and their mistress's command,
+     The younkers a' are warned to obey;
+     And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand,
+     And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:
+     "And, oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,
+     And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
+     Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
+     Implore His counsel and assisting might:
+     They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"{14}
+
+     But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
+     Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
+     Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor,
+     To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
+     The wily mother sees the conscious flame
+     Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;
+     Wi' heart-struck anxious care inquires his name,
+     While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
+     Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake.
+
+     Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;{15}
+     A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye;
+     Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;
+     The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.{16}
+     The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
+     But, blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave;
+     The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
+     What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;
+     Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.
+
+     O happy love! where love like this is found!
+     O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!
+     I've paced much this weary, mortal round,
+     And sage experience bids me this declare:--
+     If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,
+     One cordial in this melancholy vale,
+     'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
+     In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,
+     Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!
+
+     Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,
+     A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,
+     That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
+     Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
+     Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!
+     Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?
+     Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
+     Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?
+     Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!
+
+     But now the supper crowns their simple board,--
+     The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:
+     The sowpe their only hawkie{17} does afford,
+     That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;
+     The dame brings forth in complimental mood,
+     To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell,
+     An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;
+     The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell
+     How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.{18}
+
+     The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
+     They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
+     The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
+     The big ha'-Bible,{19} ance his father's pride;
+     His bonnet{20} rev'rently is laid aside,
+     His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
+     Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
+     He wales a portion with judicious care;
+     And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
+
+     They chant their artless notes in simple guise;
+     They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:
+     Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,
+     Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name,
+     Or noble "Elgin" beets{21} the heavenward flame,
+     The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:
+     Compared with these, Italian trills are tame,
+     The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;
+     Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
+
+     The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
+     How Abram was the friend of God on high;
+     Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
+     With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
+     Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
+     Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
+     Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
+     Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
+     Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
+
+     Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,
+     How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;
+     How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,
+     Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:
+     How His first followers and servants sped;
+     The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
+     How he, who lone in Patmos banished,
+     Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
+     And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
+
+     Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,
+     The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
+     Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"{22}
+     That thus they all shall meet in future days:
+     There ever bask in uncreated rays,
+     No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
+     Together hymning their Creator's praise,
+     In such society, yet still more dear;
+     While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
+
+     Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,
+     In all the pomp of method and of art,
+     When men display to congregations wide
+     Devotion's every grace, except the heart!
+     The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert,
+     The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole{23};
+     But, haply, in some cottage far apart,
+     May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;
+     And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.
+
+     Then homeward all take off their several way;
+     The youngling cottagers retire to rest:
+     The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
+     And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,
+     That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
+     And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
+     Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,
+     For them and for their little ones provide;
+     But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.
+
+     From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,
+     That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:
+     Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
+     "An honest man's the noblest work of God:"{24}
+     And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,
+     The cottage leaves the palace far behind;
+     What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous load,
+     Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,
+     Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!
+
+     O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
+     For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,
+     Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
+     Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
+     And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
+     From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!
+     Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,
+     A virtuous populace may rise the while,
+     And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.
+
+     O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide
+     That streamed thro' Wallace's{25} undaunted heart,
+     Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
+     Or nobly die, the second glorious part,
+     (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,
+     His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)
+     O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;
+     But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,
+     In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem, composed in 1785, is written partly in the Scottish dialect,
+partly in English. The livelier passages are in the poet's vernacular;
+the loftier or more solemn parts in the language of books. This
+distinction was doubtless made because Burns disliked to treat his
+higher themes in a merely colloquial manner, fearing to belittle them by
+so doing. The household described was probably that of the poet's own
+father; it was at least a typical Scotch peasant's household, with which
+no one was more familiar. Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Dr. Currie,
+says: "Although the 'Cotter' in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of
+my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet
+the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of
+us ever went 'At service out amang the neibors roun'.' Instead of our
+depositing our 'sair-won penny-fee' with our parents, my father labored
+hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to
+keep his children at home."
+
+The influence of Gray and Goldsmith is very apparent in more than one
+passage in this poem.
+
+"Robert had frequently remarked to me," said his brother, "that there
+was something particularly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God,' used by a decent, sober head of a family introducing family
+worship. To this sentiment of the author, the world is indebted for 'The
+Cotter's Saturday Night.' The hint of the plan and title of the poem is
+taken from Ferguson's 'Farmer's Ingle.'"
+
+
+1. =Cotter.= "One who inhabits a cot, or cottage, dependent on a
+farm."--_Jamieson._
+
+2. =R. Aiken.= A friend with whom Burns had been brought into contact
+during the Old and New Light Controversy.
+
+3. See Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," eighth stanza.
+
+4. =lays.= Songs; probably from the same root as the German _lied_. The
+word was originally applied to a form of elegiac French poetry, much
+imitated by the English.
+
+5. =train.= A favorite word with the poets at this time. Goldsmith uses it
+no fewer than six times in the "Deserted Village." The original meaning
+is something drawn along; from Lat. _traho_, to draw.
+
+6. =sugh.= Also spelled _sough_. Whistling sound, murmur. Derived from the
+same root as sigh, for which word it is used by Burns in his lines, "On
+the Battle of Sherriffmuir":
+
+     "My heart for fear gae sough for sough
+       To hear the thuds," etc.
+
+7. Compare with Gray's "Elegy," line 3:
+
+     "The ploughman homeward plods his weary way."
+
+8. Toil was perhaps pronounced _tile_, thus properly rhyming with
+_beguile_. Johnson, in "London," says:
+
+     "On all thy hours security shall smile,
+      And bless thine evening walk and morning toil."
+
+9. =bairns.= From A.-S. _bearns_, children.
+
+10. =ca'.= Drive, follow. Probably not from the same root as our common
+word _call_. Kingsley uses it in this sense in the line:
+
+     "Go, Mary, go, and call the cattle home."
+
+11. =neibor.= Neighboring. Milton, in "Comus," uses the expressions: "Some
+neighbor woodman," "some neighbor villager"; and Shakespeare says: "A
+neighbor thicket" ("Love's Labour Lost"), and "neighbor room"
+("Hamlet").
+
+12. =deposit.= Pronounced here _dep´o-zit_.
+
+13. =penny-fee.= Fee, wages, from A.-S. _feoh_, cattle. "Cattle," says
+Bosworth, "was the first kind of property; and, by bartering, this word
+came to signify money in general." So, too, the word _penny_ is from
+A.-S. _penig_, Icelandic _peningr_, cattle. The word _penny_, as in this
+country the word _dollar_, is used indefinitely for _money_.
+
+14. Observe that in quoting the words of the Cotter the poet partially
+drops the Ayrshire dialect and uses a purer English.
+
+15. =ben.= Within. The inner part of the house; from O. E. _binnan_,
+within. Its opposite is _but_, the outside of the house.
+
+16. =kye.= Cattle, from O.-E. _cu_, or _kie_. _Kine_ is derived from the
+same root, and probably _cow_.
+
+17. =hawkie.= This word, says Hales, "denotes, properly, a cow with a
+white face. So, in Northumberland, _bawsand_ was used of an animal with
+a white spot on its forehead, and _crummie_ of a cow with crooked
+horns."
+
+18. =sin' lint was i' the bell.= Since flax was in bloom. That is, the
+cheese was a year old last flax-blossoming time.
+
+19. =ha'-Bible.= The hall Bible--the Bible kept in the best room.
+
+20. =bonnet.= This word in Scotch denotes a man's head-covering. In early
+English it was used in the same sense.
+
+21. =beets.= Feeds,--that is, gives fuel to the flame.
+
+     "It warms me, it charms me,
+        To mention but her name;
+      It heats me, it beets me,
+        And sets me a' on flame."
+                    --_Burns's Epistle to Davie, a brother poet._
+
+The word is probably from A.-S. _betan_, to better, to mend; from which,
+also, we have the words _beat_, to excel, _better_, _best_, etc.
+
+22. Burns refers the reader to Pope's "Windsor Forest" for this
+quotation. He probably had in mind the line in the "Essay on Man":
+
+     "Hope springs eternal in the human breast."
+
+23. =sacerdotal stole.= A long, narrow scarf with fringed ends, and
+richly embroidered, worn by the clergy upon special occasions.
+=Sacerdotal=, from Lat. _sacerdos_, a priest. =Stole=, from Lat. _stola_, a
+long dress worn by Roman women over their tunic and fastened with a
+girdle.
+
+24. Pope's "Essay on Man," Epistle iv, line 247.
+
+25. William Wallace (1270-1305), the Scotch national hero was, like
+Burns, a native of Ayrshire.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =aft=, often.
+     =amaist=, almost.
+     =amang=, among.
+     =ance=, once.
+     =auld=, old.
+     =belyve=, by and by.
+     =blate=, bashful.
+     =blinkin=, gleaming.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =braw=, brave, fine.
+     =cannie=, easy.
+     =carking=, fretting.
+     =certes=, certain.
+     =chows=, chews.
+     =claes=, clothes.
+     =convoy=, accompany.
+     =cracks=, talks.
+     =craws=, crows.
+     =drapping=, dropping.
+     =eydent=, diligent.
+     =fell=, tasty.
+     =flichterin=, fluttering.
+     =frae=, from.
+     =gang=, go.
+     =gars=, makes.
+     =guid=, good.
+     =hae=, have.
+     =haffets=, temples.
+     =hafflins=, half.
+     =halesome=, wholesome.
+     =hallan=, partition wall.
+     =hameward=, homeward.
+     =ingle=, fire.
+     =jauk=, trifle.
+     =kebbuck=, cheese.
+     =kens=, understands.
+     =lathefu'=, shy.
+     =lave=, the rest.
+     =lyart=, gray.
+     =miry=, muddy, dusty.
+     =moil=, labor.
+     =nae=, no.
+     =parritch=, porridge.
+     =pleugh=, plough.
+     =rin=, run.
+     =sair-won=, hard-earned.
+     =sowpe=, milk.
+     =spiers=, inquires.
+     =stacher=, stagger.
+     =strappin'=, strapping, stout.
+     =tentie=, attentively.
+     =towmond=, twelvemonth.
+     =uncos=, unknown things, new.
+     =wales=, chooses.
+     =wee bit=, little.
+     =weel=, well.
+     =wee things=, little folks.
+     =weel-hained=, well-kept.
+     =wiles=, knowledge.
+     =wily=, knowing.
+     =youngling=, youthful.
+     =younkers=, youngsters, children.
+     ='yont=, on the other side of.
+
+
+
+
+TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.
+
+ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786.
+
+
+     Wee, modest, crimson-tippéd flow'r,
+     Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+     For I maun crush amang the stoure
+               Thy slender stem.
+     To spare thee now is past my power,
+               Thou bonnie gem.
+
+     Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,
+     The bonnie lark, companion meet!
+     Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet
+               Wi' spreckled breast,
+     When upward springing, blythe to greet
+               The purpling east.
+
+     Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
+     Upon thy early humble birth;
+     Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
+               Amid the storm,
+     Scarce reared above the parent earth
+               Thy tender form.
+
+     The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
+     High sheltering woods an' wa's maun shield;
+     But thou, beneath the random bield
+               O' clod or stane,
+     Adorns the histie stibble-field,
+               Unseen, alane.
+
+     There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
+     Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
+     Thou lifts thy unassuming head
+               In humble guise:
+     But now the share uptears thy bed,
+               And low thou lies!
+
+     Such is the fate of artless maid,
+     Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!
+     By love's simplicity betrayed,
+               And guileless trust,
+     Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
+               Low i' the dust.
+
+     Such is the fate of simple bard,
+     On life's rough ocean luckless starred!
+     Unskilful he to note the card
+               Of prudent lore,
+     Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
+               And whelm him o'er!
+
+     Such fate to suffering worth is given,
+     Who long with wants and woes has striven,
+     By human pride or cunning driven
+               To misery's brink,
+     Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,
+               He, ruined, sink!
+
+     Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,
+     That fate is thine--no distant date;
+     Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,
+               Full on thy bloom,
+     Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,
+               Shall be thy doom.
+
+
+VOCABULARY.
+
+     =bield=, protection.
+     =blythe=, happy.
+     =bonnie=, pretty.
+     =card=, compass.
+     =glinted=, passed quickly.
+     =histie=, barren.
+     =maun=, must.
+     =spreckled=, speckled.
+     =stibble=, stubble.
+     =stoure=, dust.
+     =weet=, wetness.
+     =wrenched=, deprived.
+
+
+
+
+FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.
+
+
+     Is there, for honest poverty,
+       That hangs his head, and a' that?{1}
+     The coward slave, we pass him by,
+       We dare be poor for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Our toils obscure, and a' that;
+           The rank is but the guinea's stamp,{2}
+             The man's the gowd{3} for a' that!
+
+     What though on hamely fare we dine,
+       Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;
+     Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
+       A man's a man for a' that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their tinsel show, and a' that;
+           The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
+             Is king o' men for a' that!
+
+     Ye see yon birkie,{4} ca'd a lord,
+       Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
+     Though hundreds worship at his word,
+       He's but a coof{5} for a' that;
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             His riband, star, and a' that;
+           The man of independent mind,
+             He looks and laughs at a' that.
+
+     A prince can mak a belted knight,
+       A marquis, duke, and a' that;
+     But an honest man's aboon{6} his might,
+       Guid faith, he maunna fa'{7} that!
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             Their dignities, and a' that;
+           The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
+             Are higher ranks than a' that!
+
+     Then let us pray that come it may--
+       As come it will for a' that--
+     That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
+       May bear the gree,{8} and a' that.
+           For a' that, and a' that,
+             It's coming yet, for a' that,
+           That man to man, the warld o'er,
+             Shall brothers be for a' that!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. Is there anything in honest poverty to cause one to hang his head,
+etc.?
+
+2. Explain lines 7 and 8 fully.
+
+3. =gowd=, gold.
+
+4. =birkie=, fellow.
+
+5. =coof=, fool.
+
+6. =aboon his might=, above his power.
+
+7. =maunna fa'=, may not get.
+
+8. =gree=, palm, supremacy.
+
+"Burns was not only the poet of love, but also of the new excitement
+about man. Himself poor, he sang the poor. Neither poverty nor low birth
+made a man the worse--the man was 'a man for a' that.'"--_Stopford
+Brooke._
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT BURNS was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His childhood and
+youth were spent in poverty on his father's farm, where he learned to
+plough, reap, mow, and thresh in the barn, but where opportunities for
+education were such only as Scottish peasants know. In 1784 his father
+died, and he attempted to manage a farm of his own at Mossgiel. The
+experiment proving to be a failure, he resolved to leave Scotland, and
+secured an appointment to a clerkship in Jamaica. Just before the time
+set for his departure, he learned of the success of a volume of his
+poems which had just been published at Kilmarnock; and, instead of
+departing for the West Indies, he made a visit to Edinburgh. He was
+welcomed by the best society, and received at once into the literary
+circles of the Scottish capital. "His name and fame flashed like
+sunshine over the land: the shepherd on the hill, the maiden at her
+wheel, learned his songs by heart, and the first scholars of Scotland
+courted his acquaintance." A second edition of his poems was published
+in 1787, and with the proceeds--about $2500--he took a farm at
+Ellisland, in Nithsdale. But his habits were such that he made sad
+failure a second time in the experiment of farming; and, after two years
+of mismanagement, to eke out his scanty income he accepted an
+appointment as exciseman. In 1791, "unfortunately both for his health
+and for his reputation," he removed to Dumfries, where, five years
+later, he died.
+
+"While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through
+the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous
+pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa Fountain will also
+arrest our eye; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning
+workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full gushing
+current, into the light of day; and often will the traveller turn aside
+to drink of its clear waters, and muse among its rocks and
+pines."--_Carlyle._
+
+"Burns is not the poet's poet, which Shelley no doubt meant to be, or
+the philosopher's poet, which Wordsworth, in spite of himself, is. He is
+the poet of homely human nature, not half so homely or prosaic as it
+seems. His genius, in a manner all its own, associates itself with the
+fortunes, experiences, memorable moments, of human beings whose
+humanity is their sole patrimony; to whom 'liberty and whatever, like
+liberty, has the power
+
+     To raise a man above the brute,
+     And mak him ken himsel,'
+
+is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and
+never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned
+by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the
+great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human
+beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy
+relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy
+out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength
+of which it cannot but grow strong."--_John Service._
+
+"Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive
+power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of
+personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as
+healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,--no
+more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor,
+are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it."--_Hazlitt._
+
+     "His is that language of the heart
+        In which the answering heart would speak,
+      Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,
+        Or the smile light the cheek.
+
+     "And his that music to whose tone
+        The common pulse of man keeps time,
+      In cot or castle's mirth or moan,
+        In cold or sunny clime."
+                                         --_Fitz-Greene Halleck._
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To
+a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland
+Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Carlyle's Essay on _Robert Burns_; _Burns_ (English Men of
+Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+William Cowper.
+
+
+
+
+BOADICEA.
+
+
+     When the British warrior queen,
+       Bleeding from the Roman rods,
+     Sought, with an indignant mien,
+       Counsel from her country's gods,
+
+     Sage beneath the spreading oak
+       Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
+     Every burning word he spoke
+       Full of rage, and full of grief.
+
+     "Princess! if our aged eyes
+       Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
+     'Tis because resentment ties
+       All the terrors of our tongues.
+
+     "Rome shall perish--write that word
+       In the blood that she has spilt;
+     Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd,
+       Deep in ruin as in guilt.
+
+     "Rome, for empire far renown'd,
+       Tramples on a thousand states;
+     Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,--
+       Hark, the Gaul is at her gates!
+
+     "Other Romans shall arise,
+       Heedless of a soldier's name;
+     Sounds, not arms,{1} shall win the prize;
+       Harmony the path to fame.
+
+     "Then the progeny that springs
+       From the forests of our land,
+     Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,{2}
+       Shall a wider world command.
+
+     "Regions Cæsar never knew
+       Thy posterity shall sway;
+     Where his eagles never flew
+       None invincible as they."{3}
+
+     Such the bard's prophetic words,
+       Pregnant with celestial fire,
+     Bending as he swept the chords
+       Of his sweet but awful lyre.
+
+     She, with all the monarch's pride,
+       Felt them in her bosom glow,
+     Rush'd to battle, fought and died;
+       Dying, hurled them{4} at the foe.
+
+     Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
+       Heaven awards the vengeance due;
+     Empire is on us bestowed,
+       Shame and ruin wait for you.{5}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, a powerful and warlike tribe of
+Britons, about the middle of the first century. Upon the death of her
+husband, Prasutagus, her kingdom was seized by the Romans, and she
+herself, for some real or imaginary offence, was publicly scourged.
+During the absence of the Roman governor from that part of England,
+Boadicea raised an immense army, burned the city of London, and put
+70,000 Romans to the sword. She afterwards, with 230,000 troops, met the
+Roman army, under Suetonius, in the field, and although the Romans could
+muster only 10,000 soldiers, the British army was defeated, and the
+queen, in despair, ended her own life by taking poison.
+
+In this poem, Cowper represents the queen as, soon after her shameful
+treatment by the Romans, seeking counsel from one of the native priests.
+The Druid prophesies the destruction of Rome and the future greatness of
+Britain.
+
+1. =Sounds, not arms.= Does the poet allude to the cultivation of oratory
+and poetry among the Romans and the neglect of military affairs?
+
+2. =Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings.= What do these expressions mean?
+To what do they refer?
+
+3. Explain the prophecy included in this stanza.
+
+4. =hurled them.= Hurled what?
+
+5. This stanza, evidently a part of the imprecation which Boadicea
+"hurled" at her enemies, ought to be enclosed with quotation marks, but
+in most versions of the poem it appears without them.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE.
+
+
+     Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed
+     With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
+     Those lips are thine--thy own sweet smile I see,
+     The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
+     Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
+     "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
+     The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
+     (Blessed be the art that can immortalize,
+     The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
+     To quench it) here shines on me still the same.
+       Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
+     O welcome guest, though unexpected here!
+     Who bidst me honor with an artless song,
+     Affectionate, a mother lost so long,
+     I will obey, not willingly alone,
+     But gladly, as the precept were her own:
+     And, while that face renews my filial grief,
+     Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
+     Shall steep{1} me in Elysian reverie,{2}
+     A momentary dream that thou art she.
+       My mother! when I learnt{3} that thou wast dead,
+     Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?
+     Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
+     Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?
+     Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss;
+     Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
+     Ah! that maternal smile! It answers--Yes.
+     I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,
+     I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
+     And, turning from my nursery window, drew
+     A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!
+     But was it such?--It was.--Where thou art gone
+     Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
+     May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,
+     The parting word shall pass my lips no more!
+     The maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,{4}
+     Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.
+     What ardently I wished I long believed,
+     And, disappointed still, was still deceived.
+     By expectation every day beguiled,
+     Dupe of _to-morrow_ even from a child.
+     Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,
+     Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
+     I learned at last submission to my lot;
+     But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.
+       Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,
+     Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;
+     And where the gardener Robin, day by day,
+     Drew me to school along the public way,
+     Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped
+     In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,
+     'Tis now become a history little known,
+     That once we called the pastoral house our own.
+     Short-lived possession! but the record fair
+     That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,
+     Still outlives many a storm that has effaced
+     A thousand other themes less deeply traced.{5}
+     Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,
+     That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;
+     Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
+     The biscuit, or confectionary plum;{6}
+     The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed
+     By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;
+     All this, and more endearing still than all,
+     Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
+     Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes
+     That humor interposed too often makes;{7}
+     All this still legible in memory's page,
+     And still to be so to my latest age,
+     Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
+     Such honors to thee as my numbers may;
+     Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
+     Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
+       Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,
+     When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,
+     The violet, the pink, and jessamine,
+     I pricked them into paper with a pin
+     (And thou wast happier than myself the while,
+     Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile),
+     Could those few pleasant days again appear,
+     Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?
+     I would not trust my heart--the dear delight
+     Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.--
+     But no--what here we call our life is such
+     So little to be loved, and thou so much,
+     That I should ill requite thee to constrain
+     Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
+       Thou, as a gallant bark{8} from Albion's coast
+     (The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)
+     Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,
+     Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,
+     There sits quiescent on the floods that show
+     Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
+     While airs impregnated with incense play
+     Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;
+     So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,
+     "Where tempests never beat nor billows roar."{9}
+     And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide
+     Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
+     But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
+     Always from port withheld, always distressed--
+     Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost,
+     Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,
+     And day by day some current's thwarting force,
+     Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
+     Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he!
+     That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
+     My boast is not, that I deduce my birth
+     From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;
+     But higher far my proud pretensions rise--
+     The son of parents passed into the skies!
+     And now, farewell--Time unrevoked has run
+     His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.
+     By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
+     I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;
+     To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
+     Without the sin of violating thine:
+     And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,
+     And I can view this mimic show of thee,{10}
+     Time has but half succeeded in his theft--
+     Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This, one of the most exquisite poems in the language, was written by
+Cowper in "the last glimmering of the evening light," before his mind
+was wholly overwhelmed by the final attack of insanity. "Every line is
+instinct with a profound and chastened feeling, to which it would be
+difficult to find a parallel. There is not a phrase, not a word, which
+jars upon the most susceptible ear, not a tinge of exaggeration, not a
+touch that is excessive. The fact that he who gave forth these supreme
+utterances of filial love was old himself when he did it, brings into
+the relationship a strange, tender equality which is marvellously
+touching."
+
+1. =steep.= Imbue. From Ger. _stippen_. From the same root as _dip_, with
+the letter _s_ prefixed.
+
+2. =Elysian reverie.= Heavenly meditation. See note on Elysium, page 79.
+
+3. =when I learnt.= Cowper was only six years old when his mother died.
+
+4. =concern.= Distress, anxiety.
+
+5. Nearly fifty years after his mother's death, Cowper wrote: "I can
+truly say that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal veracity
+say a day) in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her
+tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she had for showing it
+was so short."
+
+6. =plum.= Perhaps the gravest fault in this poem is the frequent
+intermixture, as in these two lines, of trivial thoughts and
+circumstances with those of a more noble character.
+
+7. Explain the metaphor which the poet attempts to carry through these
+three lines. =Brakes= = _breaks_, interruptions. What is the meaning of
+_humor_?
+
+8. =as a gallant bark.= Observe the beauty of the simile in these twelve
+lines, also of the simile which follows.
+
+9. Probably misquoted from "The Dispensary," by Samuel Garth
+(1670-1719):
+
+     "To die is landing on some silent shore,
+     Where billows never break nor tempests roar."
+
+10. =this mimic show.= Explain the meaning of this expression.
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON A HARE.
+
+
+     Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
+       Nor swifter greyhound follow,
+     Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
+       Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;
+
+     Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
+       Who, nursed with tender care,
+     And to domestic bounds confined,
+       Was still a wild Jack hare.
+
+     Though duly from my hand he took
+       His pittance every night,
+     He did it with a jealous look,
+       And, when he could, would bite.
+
+     His diet was of wheaten bread,
+       And milk, and oats, and straw;
+     Thistles, or lettuces instead,
+       With sand to scour his maw.
+
+     On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
+       On pippins' russet peel,
+     And, when his juicy salads failed,
+       Sliced carrot pleased him well.
+
+     A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
+       Whereon he loved to bound,
+     To skip and gambol like a fawn,
+       And swing his rump around.
+
+     His frisking was at evening hours,
+       For then he lost his fear,
+     But most before approaching showers,
+       Or when a storm drew near.
+
+     Eight years and five round-rolling moons
+       He thus saw steal away,
+     Dozing out all his idle noons,
+       And every night at play.
+
+     I kept him for his humor's sake,
+       For he would oft beguile
+     My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
+       And force me to a smile.
+
+     But now beneath this walnut shade
+       He finds his long last home,
+     And waits, in snug concealment laid,
+       Till gentler Puss shall come.
+
+     He, still more agèd, feels the shocks
+       From which no care can save,
+     And, partner once of Tiney's box,
+       Must soon partake his grave.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM COWPER was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His
+father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the
+family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school
+and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the
+profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at
+Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a
+solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle,
+Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords.
+The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy
+love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for
+more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity,
+which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his
+fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume
+was published in 1782, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces,
+the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement," and "Table Talk." His
+second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium,"
+and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through
+the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of
+Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his
+death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as
+an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast.
+
+Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the
+mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial
+poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that
+he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a
+depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted
+him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of
+the Royal George.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Southey's _Life of William Cowper_; _Cowper_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's _English Poets_; Macaulay's Essay
+on _Moore's Life of Byron_; _Life of Cowper_, in the "Globe Edition" of
+his works.
+
+
+
+
+Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+
+
+
+THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."
+
+
+       Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
+     Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
+     There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,
+     The mingling notes came soften'd from below:
+     The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+     The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
+     The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
+     The playful children just let loose from school,
+     The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
+     And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind--
+     These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+     And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
+     But now the sounds of population fail,
+     No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,
+     No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,
+     For all the bloomy flush of life is fled--
+     All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,
+     That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
+     She, wretched matron--forc'd in age, for bread,
+     To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,
+     To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,
+     To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn--
+     She only left of all the harmless train,
+     The sad historian of the pensive plain!
+
+       Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
+     And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;
+     There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
+     The village preacher's{1} modest mansion rose.
+     A man he was to all the country dear,
+     And passing{2} rich with forty pounds{3} a year;
+     Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
+     Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;
+     Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,
+     By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
+     Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
+     More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
+     His house was known to all the vagrant train;
+     He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain:
+     The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
+     Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
+     The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
+     Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
+     The broken soldier,{4} kindly bade to stay,
+     Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,
+     Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done,
+     Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
+     Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
+     And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
+     Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
+     His pity gave ere charity began.
+       Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
+     And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;
+     But in his duty prompt at every call,
+     He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all;
+     And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
+     To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+     He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+     Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
+       Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
+     And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
+     The reverend champion stood. At his control
+     Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
+     Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
+     And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
+       At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
+     His looks adorned the venerable place:
+     Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
+     And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.
+     The service past, around the pious man,
+     With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;
+     Even children followed with endearing wile,
+     And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile.
+     His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed;
+     Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
+     To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
+     But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
+     As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
+     Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
+     Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
+     Eternal sunshine settles on its head.{5}
+
+       Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
+     With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
+     There in his noisy mansion,{6} skilled to rule,
+     The village master taught his little school.
+     A man severe he was, and stern to view;
+     I knew him well, and every truant knew;
+     Well had the boding{7} tremblers learned to trace
+     The day's disasters in his morning face;
+     Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee
+     At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
+     Full well the busy whisper circling round
+     Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
+     Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
+     The love he bore to learning was in fault;
+     The village{8} all declared how much he knew;
+     'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
+     Lands he could measure, terms and tides{9} presage,
+     And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:{10}
+     In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;
+     For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;
+     While words of learned length and thundering sound
+     Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;
+     And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
+     That one small head could carry all he knew.
+       But past is all his fame. The very spot
+     Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =The village preacher.=--"This picture of the village pastor," says
+Irving, "which was taken in part from the character of his father,
+embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the
+natures of the father and son seem to have been identical. . . . To us
+the whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as
+if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble
+himself at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to
+practise."
+
+2. =passing rich.= Exceedingly rich. The word is a common one among the
+poets. "Is she not passing fair?" (Shakespeare, "Two Gentlemen of
+Verona," Act iv, sc. 4); "How passing sweet is solitude" (Cowper,
+"Retirement").
+
+3. =forty pounds.= In his dedication of "The Traveller," Goldsmith refers
+to his brother Henry as "a man who, despising fame and fortune, has
+retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of forty pounds
+a year."
+
+4. =broken soldier.= See "The Soldier's Dream," Campbell.
+
+     "And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay!"
+
+5. The simile included in these four lines, says Lord Lytton, is
+translated almost literally from a poem by the Abbé de Chaulieu, who
+died in 1720. "Every one must own," adds he, "that, in copying,
+Goldsmith wonderfully improved the original."
+
+6. =The village master.=--The portrait here drawn of the village
+schoolmaster is from Goldsmith's own teacher, Thomas Byrne, with whom he
+was placed when six years old. "Byrne had been educated for a
+pedagogue," says Irving, "but had enlisted in the army, served abroad
+during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen to the rank of
+quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no
+longer exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled the
+urchin populace of Lissoy.
+
+"There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given
+in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond
+wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a
+world of campaigning stories of which he was generally the hero, and
+which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to
+have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a
+powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an
+unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.
+
+"Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious.
+He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland,
+all which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition
+Goldsmith soon became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore."
+
+=noisy mansion.= The old-time school-room was a noisy place, the pupils
+studying their lessons aloud, and but little care being taken to secure
+quietness at any time.
+
+7. =boding.= Foreboding; seeing that which is about to happen. From A.-S.
+_bodian_, to announce, to foretell.
+
+8. =village.= Villagers.
+
+9. =terms and tides.= Times and seasons. =presage.= Foreknow. From Lat.
+_pre_, before, and _sagio_, to perceive.
+
+10. =gauge.= Measure liquids. The humor in this and in some other
+expressions in these verses is too apparent to require comment.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+OLIVER GOLDSMITH was born at Pallas, county of Longford, Ireland, on the
+10th of November, 1728. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and
+afterwards studied medicine at Edinburgh and at Leyden. After travelling
+on foot through portions of Western Europe, he made his way to London,
+where he was in turn assistant to a chemist, usher in a school at
+Peckham, and literary hack for one of the leading monthly publications.
+He afterwards contributed many articles, both in prose and poetry, to
+the leading periodicals of the time. He wrote "The Traveller" in 1764,
+and "The Deserted Village" and _The Vicar of Wakefield_ in 1770. He died
+in his chambers in Brick Court, London, April 4, 1774. For a full
+account of his life, read Macaulay's Essay on Oliver Goldsmith.
+
+"The naturalness and ease of Goldsmith's poetry," says Edward Dowden,
+"are those of an accomplished craftsman. His verse, which flows towards
+the close of the period with such a gentle yet steady advance, is not
+less elaborated than that of Pope; and Goldsmith conceived his verse
+more in paragraphs than in couplets. His artless words were, each one,
+delicately chosen; his simple constructions were studiously sought." And
+Sir Walter Scott said of him: "It would be difficult to point out one
+among the English poets less likely to be excelled in his own style.
+Possessing much of Pope's versification without the monotonous structure
+of his lines; rising sometimes to the swell and fulness of Dryden,
+without his inflections; delicate and masterly in his descriptions;
+graceful in one of the greatest graces of poetry, its transitions; alike
+successful in his sportive or grave, his playful or melancholy mood; he
+may long bid defiance to the numerous competitors whom the friendship or
+flattery of the present age is so hastily arraying against him."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Traveller; the rest of The Deserted Village;
+Retaliation.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Irving's _Life of Goldsmith_; Forster's _Life and Times of
+Oliver Goldsmith_; Macaulay's Essay on _Goldsmith_; Thackeray's _English
+Humorists of the Eighteenth Century_; De Quincey's _Eighteenth Century_;
+Hazlitt's _English Poets_; _Goldsmith_ (English Men of Letters), by
+William Black.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Gray.
+
+
+
+
+THE BARD.
+
+
+I. 1.
+
+       "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+         Confusion on thy banners wait;
+       Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,{1}
+         They mock the air with idle state.{2}
+       Helm, nor hauberk's{3} twisted mail,
+       Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
+       To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
+       From Cambria's{4} curse, from Cambria's tears!"
+     Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
+       Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
+     As down the steep of Snowdon's{5} shaggy side
+       He wound with toilsome march his long array.
+     Stout Gloster{6} stood aghast in speechless trance:
+     "To arms!" cried Mortimer,{7} and couched his quivering lance.
+
+
+I. 2.
+
+       On a rock{8} whose haughty brow
+     Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,
+       Robed in the sable garb of woe,
+     With haggard eyes the poet stood,
+     (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
+     Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air{9})
+     And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
+     Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.{10}
+       "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,
+     Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
+     O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
+       Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
+     Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
+     To high-born Hoel's{11} harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
+
+
+I. 3.
+
+       "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
+       That hushed the stormy main:{12}
+     Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
+       Mountains, ye mourn in vain
+       Modred, whose magic song
+     Made huge Plinlimmon{13} bow his cloud-topt head.
+       On dreary Arvon's shore{14} they lie,
+     Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:
+     Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;
+       The famished eagle{15} screams, and passes by.
+     Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
+       Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
+     Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,{16}
+       Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
+     No more I weep. They do not sleep.
+       On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
+     I see them sit,{17} they linger yet,
+       Avengers of their native land:
+     With me in dreadful harmony they join,
+     And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
+
+
+II. 1.
+
+       "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,{18}
+     The winding sheet of Edward's race.
+       Give ample room, and verge enough
+     The characters of hell to trace.
+     Mark the year, and mark the night,
+     When Severn shall re-echo with affright
+     The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,
+     Shrieks of an agonizing king!{19}
+       She-wolf of France,{20} with unrelenting fangs,
+     That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,
+       From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs
+     The scourge of heaven.{21} What terrors round him wait!
+     Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,
+     And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.
+
+
+II. 2.
+
+       "Mighty victor, mighty lord!
+     Low on his funeral couch he lies!{22}
+       No pitying heart, no eye, afford
+     A tear to grace his obsequies.
+       Is the sable warrior{23} fled?
+     Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
+     The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,
+     Gone to salute the rising morn.
+     Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,{24}
+       While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
+     In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;
+       Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
+     Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
+     That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
+
+
+II. 3.
+
+       "Fill high the sparkling bowl,
+     The rich repast prepare;
+       Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
+     Close by the regal chair
+       Fell Thirst and Famine scowl{25}
+       A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
+     Heard ye the din of battle{26} bray,
+       Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
+       Long years of havoc urge their destined course,
+     And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
+       Ye towers of Julius,{27} London's lasting shame,
+     With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
+       Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
+     And spare the meek usurper's{28} holy head.
+     Above, below, the rose of snow,
+       Twined with her blushing foe,{29} we spread:
+     The bristled boar{30} in infant-gore
+       Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
+     Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
+     Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
+
+
+III. 1.
+
+       "Edward,{31} lo! to sudden fate
+     (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)
+       Half of thy heart{32} we consecrate.
+     (The web is wove. The work is done.)
+     Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
+     Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:
+     In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
+     They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
+     But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
+       Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
+     Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!{33}
+       Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
+     No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
+     All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!
+
+
+III. 2.
+
+       "Girt with many a baron bold
+     Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
+       And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
+     In bearded majesty, appear.
+     In the midst a form divine!{34}
+     Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;
+     Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,{35}
+     Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.
+     What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
+       What strains of vocal transport round her play.
+     Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,{36} hear;
+       They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
+     Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
+     Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.
+
+
+III. 3.
+
+     "The verse adorn again
+       Fierce War, and faithful Love,{37}
+     And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.
+       In buskined measures{38} move
+     Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,
+     With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
+       A voice, as of the cherub-choir,
+     Gales from blooming Eden bear;
+     And distant warblings lessen on my ear,
+       That lost in long futurity expire.
+     Fond,{39} impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
+       Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?
+     To-morrow he repairs{40} the golden flood,
+       And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
+     Enough for me; with joy I see
+       The different doom our fates assign.
+     Be thine despair, and sceptred care;
+       To triumph, and to die, are mine."
+     He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
+     Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a
+tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the
+conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands
+to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I.,
+as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are
+suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the
+summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human,
+reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had
+brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race,
+and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never
+extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men
+shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal
+strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure
+tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the
+mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."
+
+The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had
+any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer
+Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the
+Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence
+had not been diminished.
+
+This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after
+Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniform
+stanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three
+stanzas. The first of these parts is called the _Strophe_, or Turn; the
+second, the _Antistrophe_, or Counter-turn; the third, the _Epode_, or
+After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the
+ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient
+Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side
+of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed
+movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned
+to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the
+relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which
+enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown
+among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English
+language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our
+odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and
+divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such
+are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and
+Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are
+odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype
+and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so
+thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be
+given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English
+composition.
+
+1. =crimson wing.= Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+2. Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:
+
+     "Mocking the air with colors idly spread."
+
+3. =hauberk.= From A.-S. _heals_, the neck, and _beorgan_, to protect.
+"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven,
+forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to
+every motion."--_Gray._
+
+4. =Cambria.= Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber,
+the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions
+among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England),
+which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania;
+and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.
+
+5. =Snowdon.= "Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous
+tract which the Welsh themselves call _Cragium-eryri_. It included all
+the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the
+river Conway."--_Gray._ It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of
+Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.
+
+=shaggy.= See "Lycidas," 54:
+
+     "Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."
+
+6. =Gloster.= "Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and
+Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."--_Gray._
+
+7. =Mortimer.= Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of
+King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the
+Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.
+
+8. =rock.= One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the
+extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the
+Conway River.
+
+9. "The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael,
+representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two
+of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other
+in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."--_Gray._
+
+10. Explain the meaning of this line.
+
+11. =Hoel.= A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still
+extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards.
+The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers
+to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of
+Taliessin--the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony."
+It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a
+bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war
+with King Edward. (See note 7, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of
+mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?
+
+12. =hushed the stormy main.= Shakespeare says:
+
+         "The rude sea grew civil at her song,
+     And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
+     To hear the sea-maid's music."
+                      --_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+13. =Plinlimmon.= A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is
+probably a corruption of _Pum-lumon_, "the fire-beacons," so-called
+because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the
+group.
+
+14. =Arvon's shore.= Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in
+Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland,
+opposite the island of Anglesey.
+
+15. =eagle.= "Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build
+their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some
+think) were named by the Welsh, _Craigian-eryri_, or the crags of the
+eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called
+'the Eagle's Nest.'"--_Gray._
+
+16. =Dear as the ruddy drops.= Shakespeare has it:
+
+     "As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
+      That visit my sad heart."
+                                 --_Julius Cæsar_, Act ii, sc. 1.
+
+17. =I see them sit.= See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:
+
+                "On the steep
+     Where your old bards, the Druids lie."
+
+=griesly.= Grisly. From the A.-S. _grisli_, dreadful.
+
+18. =Weave the warp=, etc. As the _Fates_ were represented by the ancient
+Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so the _Norns_ in the Norse
+mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in
+battle.
+
+     "Glittering lances are the loom,
+        Where the dusky warp we strain,--
+      Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,
+        Shoot the trembling cords along;
+      Swords that once a monarch bore,
+        Keep the tissue close and strong."
+                       --_The Fatal Sisters_, translated by Gray,
+                                                  from the Norse.
+
+19. "Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."--_Gray._
+The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327.
+Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley,
+about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before
+the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its
+founders.
+
+20. =She-wolf of France.= Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II.
+Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:
+
+     "She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."
+                                   --_3 Henry VI._, Act i, sc. 4.
+
+21. Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge
+to France.
+
+22. "Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and
+even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his
+mistress."--_Gray._
+
+23. =sable warrior.= "Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
+father."--_Gray._
+
+24. The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is
+figured in this and the following lines.
+
+25. =Thirst and Famine scowl.= When Richard II. died in prison, his body
+was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet
+rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But
+the older writers assert that he was starved to death.
+
+26. =din of battle.= "Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."--_Gray._
+
+=bray.= From Gr. _bracho_, to clash.
+
+27. =towers of Julius.= "The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of
+London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius Cæsar."--_Gray._
+
+28. =meek usurper.= "Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line
+of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."--_Gray._ The
+references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen
+Margaret, and his father, Henry V.
+
+29. =The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.= The reference is to
+the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the
+Roses.
+
+30. =bristled boar.= Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver
+boar. So Shakespeare:
+
+     "In the sty of the most deadly boar."
+                                 --_Richard III._, Act iv, sc. 5.
+
+     "The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar
+      That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,
+      Swills your warm blood like wash."
+                                          --_Ibid._ Act v, sc. 2.
+
+31. The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again
+addresses the king.
+
+32. =Half of thy heart.= "Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the
+conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her
+lord is well known."--_Gray._
+
+Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as
+
+     "Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,
+        Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,
+      Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,
+        Sweet as new buds in spring."
+
+33. The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were
+ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal
+grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother
+was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied
+that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which
+seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."--_Gray._
+
+34. =a form divine.= Elizabeth.
+
+35. =awe-commanding face.= "Speed, relating an audience given by Queen
+Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she,
+lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately
+port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie
+cheekes.'"--_Gray._
+
+36. Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth
+century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his
+countrymen.
+
+37. See "Faerie Queene," 1:
+
+     "Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."
+
+38. =buskined measures.= The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare.
+So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The
+buskin was the Greek _cothurnus_, a boot with high heels, designed to
+add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.
+
+39. =Fond.= Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so
+used by the older poets.
+
+40. =he repairs.= So Milton:
+
+     "Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
+      And yet anon repairs his drooping head."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+THOMAS GRAY was born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through
+the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that
+famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735
+entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University
+without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple.
+Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour
+through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in
+Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself
+possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and
+devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and
+gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first
+of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of
+Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country
+Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written
+and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of
+Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber;
+but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern
+History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was
+never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of
+fifty-four.
+
+"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales,
+"and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not
+only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps too fastidious, was pure and
+thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were
+of the truest and sincerest. . . . His poems are works of refinement
+rather than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine
+sentiment. They are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of
+their author's reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with
+difficulty escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a
+genuine poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and
+truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed
+and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."
+
+Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could
+not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true
+in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost
+alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was
+'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.'
+Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of
+poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray
+may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he
+aimed."
+
+Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only
+poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."
+
+Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea,
+scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the
+best sense, one of the classics of English literature."
+
+And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most
+finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which
+poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the
+comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since
+Milton."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a
+Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of English Poets_; _Gray_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt's _Lectures on the English Poets_;
+Roscoe's _Essays_.
+
+
+
+
+Alexander Pope.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "ESSAY ON CRITICISM."
+
+
+     Some to Conceit{1} alone their taste confine,
+     And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;
+     Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;{2}
+     One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.{3}
+     Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
+     The naked nature and the living grace,
+     With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,
+     And hide with ornaments their want of art.
+     True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;
+     What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;{4}
+     Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,
+     That gives us back the image of our mind.
+     As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
+     So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
+     For works may have more wit than does 'em good,
+     As bodies perish through excess of blood.
+       Others for Language all their care express,
+     And value books, as women men,{5} for dress:
+     Their praise is still,--the style is excellent;
+     The sense, they humbly take upon content.{6}
+     Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
+     Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:
+     False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
+     In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;
+     The face of nature we no more survey,
+     All glares alike, without distinction gay:
+     But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
+     Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
+     It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
+     Expression is the dress of thought, and still
+     Appears more decent, as more suitable;
+     A vile conceit in pompous words express'd
+     Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:
+     For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,{7}
+     As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.
+     Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
+     Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;
+     Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,
+     Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,
+     Unlucky, as Fungoso{8} in the play,
+     These sparks{9} with awkward vanity display
+     What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
+     And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
+     As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.
+     In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;
+     Alike fantastic, if too new or old:
+     Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
+     Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
+       But most by numbers judge a poet's song,
+     And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:
+     In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,
+     Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;
+     Who haunt Parnassus{10} but to please their ear,
+     Not mend{11} their minds, as some to church repair,
+     Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
+     These equal syllables alone require,
+     Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;{12}
+     While expletives their feeble aid do join;
+     And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
+     While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
+     With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
+     Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"
+     In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":{13}
+     If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"
+     The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":
+     Then, at the last and only couplet fraught
+     With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
+     A needless Alexandrine ends the song,{14}
+     That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.{15}
+     Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
+     What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
+     And praise the easy vigor of a line,
+     Where Denham's strength and Waller's{16} sweetness join.
+     True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
+     As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
+     'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
+     The sound must seem an echo to the sense:
+     Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
+     And the smooth stream in smoother numbers{17} flows;
+     But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
+     The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:
+     When Ajax{18} strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
+     The line too labors, and the words move slow:
+     Not so, when swift Camilla{19} scours the plain,
+     Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
+     Hear how Timotheus'{20} vary'd lays surprise,
+     And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
+     While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove{21}
+     Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
+     Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
+     Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
+     Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
+     And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!
+     The power of music all our hearts allow,
+     And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
+       Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,
+     Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
+     At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,
+     That always shows great pride, or little sense:
+     Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,
+     Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
+     Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;
+     For fools admire, but men of sense approve:
+     As things seem large which we through mists descry;
+     Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
+       Some foreign writers, some our own despise;
+     The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
+     Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd
+     To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.
+     Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
+     And force that sun but on a part to shine,
+     Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,
+     But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
+     Which from the first has shone on ages past,
+     Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
+     Tho' each may feel increases and decays,
+     And see now clearer and now darker days.
+     Regard not, then, if wit be old or new,
+     But blame the false, and value still the true.
+       Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
+     But catch the spreading notion of the Town;
+     They reason and conclude by precedent,
+     And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
+     Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then
+     Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
+     Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
+     That in proud dulness joins with Quality.{22}
+     A constant critic at the great man's board,
+     To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.
+     What woful stuff this madrigal would be,
+     In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?
+     But let a Lord once own the happy lines,
+     How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
+     Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,
+     And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724
+lines, and is written in heroic couplets--that style of poetic
+composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound
+critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in
+a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of
+the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by
+Boileau's "Art Poétique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica,"
+and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the
+classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of
+independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but
+having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to
+mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by
+no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this
+poem."
+
+1. =Conceit.= Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty;
+it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."--_Pope._
+
+2. =fit.= Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise
+Lost," V, 7).
+
+3. =wit.= This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to
+indicate a variety of ideas,--such as thought, knowledge, imagination,
+expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer
+than twelve couplets rhyming to it.
+
+4. "It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the
+maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed
+them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that
+these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate
+as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their
+truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so
+well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best
+critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever
+trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended
+upon how to say it."--_Pattison._
+
+5. =as women men.= "As women value men," or "as women by men are
+valued"--which?
+
+6. =humbly take upon content.= Are satisfied to take in faith.
+
+7. =sort.= Agree.
+
+8. =Fungoso.= A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his
+Humour."
+
+9. =sparks.= Fops; vain, showy men.
+
+10. =Parnassus.= A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the
+Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.
+
+11. =mend.= Improve, make better, amend.
+
+          "Mend your speech a little
+      Lest it may mar your fortunes."
+
+--_Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i, sc. i.
+
+12. "The gaping of the vowels in this line, the expletive _do_ in the
+next, and the ten monosyllables in that which follows, give such a
+beauty to this passage as would have been very much admired in an
+ancient poet."--_Addison._
+
+13. Pope himself is not disinclined to make use of these rhymes. See
+"Essay on Man," 271.
+
+     "Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
+      Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees."
+
+14. Referring to the Spenserian stanza which is composed of nine lines,
+eight of which are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter or
+Alexandrine. The name Alexandrine is said to have been derived from an
+old French poem on Alexander the Great, written about the twelfth or
+thirteenth century, and composed entirely of hexameter verses. See note
+on the versification of the "Faerie Queene," page 234.
+
+15. Observe the skill with which, both in this line and in several which
+precede and follow, the poet has made "the sound to seem an echo to the
+sense."
+
+16. Waller had been regarded as the greatest poet of the seventeenth
+century (see page 205), and Denham, in the time of Pope, was more
+esteemed than Milton or Spenser. Dryden called Denham
+
+                         "That limping old bard
+     Whose fame on 'The Sophy' and 'Cooper's Hill' stands."
+
+17. =numbers.= Poetical metre.
+
+     "As yet a child nor yet a fool to fame,
+      I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came."
+                              --_Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot._
+
+18. =Ajax.= "The beautiful distich upon Ajax puts me in mind of a
+description in Homer's 'Odyssey,' which none of the critics have taken
+notice of. It is where Sisyphus is represented lifting his stone up the
+hill which is no sooner carried to the top of it, but it immediately
+tumbles to the bottom. This double motion of the stone is admirably
+described in the numbers of these verses; as in the four first it is
+heaved up by several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places,
+and at last trundles down in a continual line of dactyls."--_Addison._
+
+19. =Camilla.= The virgin queen of the Volsci. She aided Turnus against
+Æneas, and was famed for her fleetness of foot.
+
+20. =Timotheus.= See notes on "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden.
+
+21. =son of Libyan Jove.= Alexander. See note 5, page 166.
+
+22. =Quality.= Persons of high rank.
+
+
+
+
+ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+MDCCVIII.
+
+
+I.
+
+     Descend, ye Nine!{1} descend and sing;
+     The breathing instruments inspire,
+     Wake into voice each silent string,
+     And sweep the sounding lyre!
+       In a sadly pleasing strain,{2}
+       Let the warbling lute complain:
+           Let the loud trumpet sound,
+           Till the roofs all around
+           The shrill echoes rebound;
+     While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
+     The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
+         Hark! the numbers soft and clear
+         Gently steal upon the ear;
+         Now louder, and yet louder rise,
+         And fill with spreading sounds the skies:
+     Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
+     In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats,
+         Till, by degrees, remote and small,
+           The strains decay,
+           And melt away,
+         In a dying, dying fall.
+
+
+II.
+
+     By music, minds an equal temper know,{3}
+     Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
+     If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
+     Music her soft, assuasive{4} voice applies;
+       Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
+       Exalts her in enlivening airs.
+     Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
+     Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
+         Melancholy lifts her head,
+         Morpheus rouses from his bed,
+         Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
+         Listening Envy drops her snakes;
+     Intestine war no more our passions wage,
+     And giddy factions hear away their rage.
+
+
+III.
+
+     But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
+     How martial music every bosom warms!
+     So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,
+     High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,{5}
+         While Argo saw her kindred trees
+           Descend from Pelion to the main.
+       Transported demi-gods{6} stood round,
+       And men grew heroes at the sound,
+         Inflamed with glory's charms;
+     Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
+     And half unsheathed the shining blade:
+       And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound,
+         To arms! to arms! to arms!
+
+
+IV.
+
+     But when, through all the infernal bounds{7}
+     Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,
+         Love, strong as death,{8} the poet led
+         To the pale nations of the dead,
+       What sounds were heard,
+       What scenes appear'd,
+         O'er all the dreary coast!
+         Dreadful gleams,
+         Dismal screams,
+         Fires that glow,
+         Shrieks of woe,
+         Sullen moans,
+         Hollow groans,
+       And cries of tortured ghosts!
+         But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
+         And see! the tortured ghosts respire,
+         See, shady forms{9} advance!
+       Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,{10}
+       Ixion rests upon his wheel,
+         And the pale spectres dance;
+     The Furies sink upon their iron beds,
+     And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.
+
+
+V.
+
+         By the streams that ever flow,
+         By the fragrant winds that blow
+           O'er the Elysian flowers;
+         By those happy souls who dwell
+         In yellow meads of asphodel,
+           Or amaranthine bowers;
+         By the heroes' armed shades,
+         Glittering through the gloomy glades,
+         By the youths that died for love,
+         Wandering in the myrtle grove,
+     Restore, restore Eurydice to life:
+     Oh take the husband, or return the wife!
+
+         He sung, and hell{11} consented
+           To hear the poet's prayer;
+         Stern Proserpine relented,
+           And gave him back the fair.
+             Thus song could prevail
+             O'er death and o'er hell,
+     A conquest how hard and how glorious!
+         Though fate had fast bound her
+         With Styx nine times round her,
+     Yet music and love were victorious.{12}
+
+
+VI.
+
+     But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:
+     Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!
+     How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?
+     No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.
+       Now under hanging mountains,
+       Beside the falls of fountains,
+       Or where Hebrus wanders,
+       Rolling in meanders,
+         All alone,
+         Unheard, unknown,
+         He makes his moan;
+         And calls her ghost,
+       For ever, ever, ever lost!
+       Now with furies surrounded,{13}
+       Despairing, confounded,
+       He trembles, he glows,
+       Amidst Rhodope's{14} snows:
+     See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;
+     Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries--
+                           Ah see, he dies!
+       Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,
+     Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,
+         Eurydice the woods,
+         Eurydice the floods,
+     Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         Music{15} the fiercest grief can charm,
+         And fate's severest rage disarm;
+         Music can soften pain to ease,
+         And make despair and madness please:
+             Our joys below it can improve,
+             And antedate the bliss above.
+         This the divine Cecilia found,
+         And to her Maker's praise confined the sound.
+         When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,
+           The immortal powers incline their ear;
+         Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
+         While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;
+           And angels lean from heaven to hear.
+         Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
+           To bright Cecilia greater power is given;
+         His numbers raised a shade from hell,
+           Hers lift the soul to heaven.{16}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written in 1708 at the suggestion of Sir Richard Steele;
+it was set to music by Maurice Greene, and in 1730 was performed at the
+public commemoration at Cambridge. Its model is Dryden's famous ode,
+"Alexander's Feast," of which Pope was a warm admirer (see page 159).
+Dr. Johnson says; "In his 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day' Pope is generally
+confessed to have miscarried; yet he has miscarried only as compared
+with Dryden, for he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is
+better chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the passions
+than fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains
+of real life; the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is
+read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs
+upon the ear, Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the odes want
+the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated
+recurrence of settled numbers. . . . If Pope's ode be particularly
+inspected, it will be found that the first stanza consists of sounds,
+well chosen, indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of
+hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and, perhaps, without
+much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, however, there
+are numbers, images, harmony, and vigor not unworthy the antagonist of
+Dryden. Had all been like this--but every part cannot be the best. The
+next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
+mythology; . . . we have all that can be performed by elegance of
+diction or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without
+better matter? The last stanza again refers to commonplaces. The
+conclusion is too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be
+remarked that both end with the same fault--the comparison of each is
+literal on one side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do not always
+express their own thoughts. Pope, with all this labor in the praise of
+music, was ignorant of its principles and insensible of its effects."
+
+St. Cecilia, the Christian Polyhymnia and patron saint of sacred music,
+is said to have suffered martyrdom about the year 230. In Chaucer's
+"Seconde Nonnes Tale"--which is an almost literal translation of the
+"Legenda Aurea," written in the thirteenth century--it is related that,
+on account of Cecilia's spotless purity, an angel came down from heaven
+to be her guardian. Her husband, Valerian, was also the recipient of
+angelic favors, for
+
+     "This angel had of roses and lilie
+      Corones two, the which he bare in honde,
+      And first to Cecile, as I understonde,
+      He yaf that on, and after gan he take
+      That other to Valerian hire make."
+
+How and when Cecilia was first recognized as the patron saint of music
+does not appear. The legend only says, that
+
+         "While the organs maden melodie,
+     To God alone thus in hire hert song she;
+     'O Lord, my soule and eke my body gie
+     Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'"
+
+There is also a tradition in the church that St. Cecilia was the
+inventor of the organ. Dryden calls her "inventress of the vocal frame"
+(see page 164). The origin of this musical instrument is not known, but
+the first organs used in Italy are said to have been brought thither
+from Greece. Some of the Roman churches are known to have had them in
+use in the seventh century, but they were not common until several
+hundred years later. The festival of St. Cecilia occurs on the 22d of
+November.
+
+1. =ye Nine.= The nine Muses: (1) Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry; (2)
+Clio, the Muse of history; (3) Euterpe, the Muse of lyric poetry; (4)
+Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy; (5) Terpsichore, the Muse of choral
+dance and song; (6) Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry; (7) Polyhymnia,
+the Muse of the sublime hymn; (8) Urania, the Muse of astronomy; (9)
+Thalia, the Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. The custom of invoking
+the Muses, at the beginning of poems, is derived from Homer:
+
+     "Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse."
+                                                 --_Iliad_, I, 1.
+
+     "Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man
+      Who, having overthrown the sacred town
+      Of Ilium, wandered far," etc.
+                                               --_Odyssey_, I, 1.
+
+Milton invokes the
+
+          "heavenly Muse that on the secret top
+      Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
+      That shepherd," etc.
+                                         --_Paradise Lost_, I, 1.
+
+2. Observe how, in the sixteen lines following, the sound is made in
+some measure to be "an echo to the sense."
+
+3. =equal temper know.= Evenness of disposition acquire. The music of
+Timotheus had an opposite effect on Alexander. See "Alexander's Feast."
+
+4. =assuasive.= Moderating.
+
+5. =the Thracian raised his strain.= Orpheus was a Thracian, the son of
+Oeagrus and the Muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a lyre, and the Muses
+instructed him in its use; and so sweet was the music which he drew from
+it that the wild beasts were enchanted and the trees and rocks moved
+from their places to follow the sound. When Jason and his followers, the
+Argonauts, were unable to launch their ship Argo, Orpheus played his
+lyre, and the vessel glided into the sea, while her "kindred trees
+descended" from the slopes of the mountain (Pelion) and followed her
+into "the main."
+
+6. =demi-gods.= Half-gods; heroes. Among the Argonauts were Hercules,
+Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Peleus, Nestor, and others similarly
+renowned.
+
+7. =infernal bounds.= Boundaries of hell. The wife of Orpheus was a nymph
+named Eurydice. She having died from the bite of a serpent, the sweet
+musician followed her into the infernal regions. He begged of Pluto that
+his wife might return with him to the earth, but his prayer was granted
+only upon condition that he should not look back upon her until both had
+safely passed the gates between Hades and the upper world. The poet
+tells the rest of the story.
+
+=Phlegethon.= A river of hell in which flowed fire instead of water.
+
+8. See Song of Solomon viii. 6: "Love is strong as death."
+
+9. =shady forms.= Departed spirits were called "shades," because they were
+supposed to be perceptible sometimes to the sight but never to the
+touch. See "heroes' armed shades," below.
+
+10. =Sisyphus.= See note 18, page 147.
+
+=Ixion.= King of the Lapithæ. As a punishment for ingratitude to Zeus, his
+hands and feet were chained to a wheel which was always in motion.
+
+=Furies.= See note 20, page 167.
+
+11. =hell.= The powers of hell--or, as he explains below, Proserpine, the
+queen of the infernal regions. =Styx.= The principal river of hell, around
+which it flows seven--not nine--times.
+
+12. See Milton's "L'Allegro," 135:
+
+     "Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
+      Married to immortal verse, . . .
+      That Orpheus' self may heave his head
+      From golden slumber on a bed
+      Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear
+      Such strains as would have won the ear
+      Of Pluto to have quite set free
+      His half-regain'd Eurydice."
+
+13. Orpheus's grief for the loss of Eurydice caused him to treat with
+contempt the Thracian women among whom he dwelt, and they in revenge
+tore him to pieces, under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies.
+His head was given by the Hebrus to the sea, and finally carried to the
+island of Lesbos, where it was buried. See Milton's "Lycidas," 58:
+
+     "What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
+      The Muse herself for her enchanting son,
+      Whom universal nature did lament,
+      When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
+      His gory visage down the stream was sent,
+      Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?"
+
+See, also, "Paradise Lost," VII, 32:
+
+               "The barbarous dissonance
+      Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
+      Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
+      In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
+      To rapture, till the savage clamor drown'd
+      Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
+      Her son."
+
+14. =Rhodope.= A range of mountains in Thrace, sacred to Bacchus. =Hæmus=
+was another range extending from Rhodope, on the west, to the Black Sea,
+on the east.
+
+15. =Music.= Compare what Pope says of music with:
+
+     "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast."
+                              --_Congreve_, _The Mourning Bride_.
+
+     "O Music! sphere-descended maid,
+      Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!"
+                                     --_Collins_, _The Passions_.
+
+     "Soft is the music that would charm forever."
+                                       --_Wordsworth_, _Sonnets_.
+
+16. Compare these lines with the four which end Dryden's "Alexander's
+Feast."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ALEXANDER POPE was born in London in 1688. He had some instruction at
+home, and was afterwards sent, first to a Roman Catholic seminary near
+Winchester, then to another in London. "This," he said, "was all the
+teaching I ever had, and God knows it extended a very little way. When I
+had done with my priests, I took to reading by myself, for which I had a
+very great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry: and in a few
+years I had dipped into a very great number of the English, Italian,
+Latin, and Greek poets." He was small of stature and deformed, and his
+ill health made him peevish, irritable, and selfish. Yet his rare
+intellectual abilities and the deserved success of his earlier poetry
+secured for him the friendship of many of the most influential men of
+the time. Bolingbroke declared that he never knew a man more tenderly
+devoted to his friends; and Warburton said, "He is as good a companion
+as poet, and, what is more, appears to be a good man."
+
+Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711; the "Rape of the
+Lock" in 1714; his translation of Homer's "Iliad" in 1715-18, and of the
+"Odyssey" in 1726; the "Dunciad" in 1728; the "Essay on Man" in 1732. A
+revised and enlarged version of the "Dunciad" was published in 1742. The
+latter part of Pope's life was spent at his country-seat of Twickenham,
+which he enlarged and beautified from the proceeds of his translation of
+Homer. He died in 1744.
+
+"Pope is our greatest master in didactic poetry," says Stopford Brooke,
+"not so much because of the worth of the thoughts as because of the
+masterly form in which they are put."
+
+"In two directions," says Mark Pattison, "in that of condensing and
+pointing his meaning, and in that of drawing the utmost harmony of sound
+out of the couplet, Pope carried versification far beyond the point at
+which it was when he took it up. The matter which he worked up into his
+verse has a permanent value, and is indeed one of the most precious
+heirlooms which the eighteenth century has bequeathed us."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Rape of the Lock; The Dying Christian to his
+Soul; The Universal Prayer; Pastorals; Windsor Forest.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Stephen's _Hours in a
+Library_; De Quincey's _Literature of the Eighteenth Century_; Lowell's
+_My Study Window_; _Pope_ (English Men of Letters), by Leslie Stephen.
+
+
+
+
+The Seventeenth Century.
+
+
+"_The people of the seventeenth century were weary of liberty, weary of
+the unmitigated rage of the dramatists, cloyed with the roses and the
+spices and the kisses of the lyrists, tired of being carried over the
+universe and up and down the avenues of history at the freak of every
+irresponsible rhymester. Literature had been set open to all the breezes
+of heaven by the blustering and glittering Elizabethans, and in the
+hands of their less gifted successors it was fast declining into a mere
+Cave of the Winds. . . . We know the poets of the early Caroline period
+almost entirely by extracts, and their ardor, quaintness, and sudden
+flashes of inspiration give them a singular advantage in this form. The
+sustained elevation which had characterized Shakespeare and Spenser, and
+even in some degree several of the chief of their contemporaries, had
+passed away, but still the poets were most brilliant, most delectable in
+their purple patches. . . . As the last waves of the Renaissance died
+away, a deathly calm settled down upon the pools of thought. Man
+returned from the particular to the general, from romantic examples to
+those disquisitions on the norm which were thought to display a
+classical taste. The seer disappeared, and the artificer took his place.
+For a whole century the singer that only sang because he must, and as
+the linnets do, was entirely absent from English literature. He came
+back at the close of the eighteenth century, with Burns in Scotland, and
+with Blake in England._"--EDMUND GOSSE.
+
+"_At the same time, amid the classical coldness which then dried up
+English literature, and the social excess which then corrupted English
+morals . . . appeared a mighty and superb mind (Milton), prepared by
+logic and enthusiasm for eloquence and the epic style; the heir of a
+poetical age, the precursor of an austere age, holding his place
+between the epoch of unselfish dreaming and the epoch of practical
+action._"--TAINE.
+
+
+=Poets of the Seventeenth Century.=
+
+=Ben Jonson= (1573-1637). See biographical note, page 213.
+
+=William Drummond of Hawthornden= (1585-1649). Short poems; "Poems:
+Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
+Madrigals"; "Floures of Sion."
+
+=William Browne= (1588-1643). "Britannia's Pastorals"; "The Shepherd's
+Pipe"; "The Inner Temple Masque."
+
+=George Wither= (1588-1667). Short poems; "Collection of Emblems"; "Nature
+of Man"; "The Shepheard's Hunting"; "Fidelia."
+
+=Phineas Fletcher= (1582-1650). "The Locustes"; "The Purple Island."
+
+=Giles Fletcher= (1588-1623). "Christ's Victory and Triumph."
+
+=Thomas Carew= (1589-1639). Short poems; "Cælum Britannicum."
+
+=Francis Quarles= (1592-1644). "Divine Poems"; "Emblems, Divine and
+Moral."
+
+=Robert Herrick= (1594-1674). See biographical note, page 202.
+
+=Sir John Suckling= (1608-1642). Love poems.
+
+=Richard Lovelace= (1618-1658). Short poems; "Lucasta: Odes, Sonnets,
+Songs," etc.
+
+=Lord Herbert of Cherbury= (1581-1648). Odes and short poems.
+
+=George Herbert= (1592-1634). "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private
+Ejaculations"; short poems.
+
+=George Sandys= (1577-1643). "Christ's Passion."
+
+=Richard Crashaw= (1615-1650). "Steps to the Altar."
+
+=Henry Vaughan= (1621-1695). "Silex Scintillans"; "The Mount of Olives."
+
+=Abraham Cowley= (1618-1667). "Poetical Blossomes"; "The Mistress."
+
+=Edmund Waller= (1605-1687). See biographical note, page 205.
+
+=Sir John Denham= (1615-1668). "Cooper's Hill."
+
+=Sir William Davenant= (1605-1668). "Gondibert"; "Madagascar and Other
+Poems."
+
+=John Milton= (1608-1674). See biographical note, page 195.
+
+=Andrew Marvell= (1621-1678). Lyric and satiric poems.
+
+=Samuel Butler= (1612-1680). "Hudibras."
+
+=Thomas Otway= (1651-1685). "The Poet's Complaint of his Muse"; "Windsor
+Castle."
+
+=John Dryden= (1631-1700). See biographical note, page 175.
+
+
+
+
+John Dryden.
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC:
+
+AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
+
+
+     'Twas at the royal feast,{1} for Persia won
+           By Philip's warlike son:
+         Aloft in awful state
+         The godlike hero sate
+           On his imperial throne:
+         His valiant peers were placed around;
+     Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound:{2}
+         (So should desert in arms be crowned.)
+       The lovely Thais,{3} by his side,
+       Sate like a blooming Eastern bride
+       In flower of youth and beauty's pride.
+           Happy, happy, happy pair!
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave,
+           None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Happy, happy, happy pair!
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave,
+               None but the brave deserves the fair.
+
+       Timotheus,{4} placed on high
+         Amid the tuneful quire,
+         With flying fingers touched the lyre:
+       The trembling notes ascend the sky,
+                 And heavenly joys inspire.
+       The song began from Jove,{5}
+       Who left his blissful seats above,
+       (Such is the power of mighty love.)
+       A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
+       Sublime on radiant spires he rode.
+     The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,
+     A present deity,{6} they shout around;
+     A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:
+             With ravish'd ears
+             The monarch hears,
+             Assumes the god,
+             Affects to nod,{7}
+         And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                   With ravish'd ears
+                   The monarch hears,
+                   Assumes the god,
+                   Affects to nod,
+               And seems to shake the spheres.
+
+     The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung,
+         Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
+           The jolly god in triumph comes;
+           Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
+             Flush'd with a purple grace,
+             He shows his honest face:
+     Now give the hautboys{8} breath; he comes! he comes!
+         Bacchus, ever fair and young,
+           Drinking joys did first ordain;
+         Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+         Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+             Rich the treasure,
+             Sweet the pleasure;
+         Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
+               Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
+                   Rich the treasure,
+                   Sweet the pleasure;
+                   Sweet is pleasure after pain.
+
+         Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;
+         Fought all his battles o'er again;
+     And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.{9}
+         The master saw the madness rise;
+         His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
+         And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,
+         Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.
+           He chose a mournful muse,
+           Soft pity to infuse:
+         He sung Darius{10} great and good,
+               By too severe a fate,
+             Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
+         Fallen from his high estate,
+           And welt'ring in his blood;
+         Deserted at his utmost need,
+         By those his former bounty fed:
+       On the bare earth expos'd he lies,{11}
+       With not a friend to close his eyes.{12}
+     With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
+     Revolving in his alter'd soul
+       The various turns of chance below;
+     And, now and then, a sigh he stole,{13}
+       And tears began to flow.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               Revolving in his alter'd soul
+                 The various turns of chance below;
+               And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
+                 And tears began to flow.
+
+     The mighty master smil'd to see
+     That love was in the next degree:
+     'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
+     For pity melts the mind to love.{14}
+       Softly sweet, in Lydian{15} measures,
+       Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
+     War, he sung, is toil and trouble;
+     Honor, but an empty bubble;{16}
+       Never ending, still beginning,
+     Fighting still, and still destroying;
+       If the world be worth thy winning,
+     Think, oh think it worth enjoying!
+       Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
+       Take the good the gods provide thee.
+     The many{17} rend the air with loud applause;
+     So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.
+       The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+         Gaz'd on the fair
+         Who caus'd his care,
+       And sigh'd and look'd,{18} sigh'd and look'd,
+       Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+     At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+     The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+                 The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
+                   Gaz'd on the fair
+                   Who caus'd his care,
+                 And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
+                 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;
+               At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
+               The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
+
+     Now strike the golden lyre again;
+     A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
+     Break his bands of sleep{19} asunder,
+     And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
+           Hark, hark, the horrid sound
+             Has raised up his head!
+             As awaked from the dead,
+           And amaz'd he stares around.
+         Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries,
+           See the Furies{20} arise:
+           See the snakes that they rear,
+           How they hiss in their hair,
+         And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
+           Behold a ghastly band,
+           Each a torch in his hand!
+     Those are Grecian ghosts,{21} that in battle were slain,
+           And unburied remain
+           Inglorious on the plain:
+         Give the vengeance due
+         To the valiant crew.{22}
+     Behold how they toss their torches on high,
+     How they point to the Persian abodes,
+     And glittering temples of their hostile gods!
+     The princes applaud with a furious joy;
+     And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+         Thais led the way,{23}
+         To light him to his prey,
+     And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+               _Chorus._
+
+               And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
+                   Thais led the way,
+                   To light him to his prey,
+               And like another Helen, fired another Troy.
+
+             Thus, long ago,
+         Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
+         While organs{24} yet were mute;
+         Timotheus to his breathing flute,
+           And sounding lyre,
+     Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
+       At last divine Cecilia came,
+       Inventress of the vocal frame;{25}
+     The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+         Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+         And added length to solemn sounds,
+     With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+         Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+           Or both divide the crown:
+         He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
+           She drew an angel down.{26}
+
+               _Grand Chorus._
+
+                   At last divine Cecilia came,
+                   Inventress of the vocal frame;
+               The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
+                   Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
+                   And added length to solemn sounds,
+               With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
+                   Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
+                     Or both divide the crown:
+                   He rais'd a mortal to the skies
+                     She drew an angel down.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This song was written in 1697. Lord Bolingbroke relates that, calling
+upon the poet one morning, Dryden said to him: "I have been up all
+night; my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for their
+Feast of St. Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which
+occurred to me that I could not leave it till I had completed it: here
+it is, finished at one sitting."
+
+The poem was first set to music by one Jeremiah Clarke, a steward of the
+Musical Society, whose members had solicited Dryden to write it. In 1736
+it was rearranged by the great composer Handel, and again presented at a
+public performance.
+
+M. Taine says, "His 'Alexander's Feast' is an admirable trumpet-blast,
+in which metre and sound impress upon the nerves the emotions of the
+mind, a master-piece of rapture and of art, which Victor Hugo alone has
+come up to."
+
+"As a piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or recited in
+alternate strophe and anti-strophe," says Hazlitt, "nothing can be
+better."
+
+"This ode is Dryden's greatest and best work."--_Macaulay._
+
+1. =royal feast.= About the year B.C. 331, Alexander the Great, having
+overthrown the Persian Empire, held a great feast at Persepolis in
+celebration of his victories. At the close of the revelries, instigated,
+it is said, by Thais, his Athenian mistress, he set fire with his own
+hand to the great palace of Persepolis; and a general massacre of the
+inhabitants ensued. The ruins of the city and palace are still to be
+seen in a beautiful valley watered by the river Araxes--now called
+Bendemir--not far from the border of the Carmanian Desert.
+
+2. =with roses and with myrtles.= At the banquets of the Greeks it was the
+custom of the guests to wear garlands of roses and myrtles.
+
+3. =Thais.= "Her name is best known from the story of her having
+stimulated the Conqueror, during a great festival at Persepolis, to set
+fire to the palace of the Persian kings; but this anecdote, immortalized
+as it has been by Dryden's famous ode, appears to rest on the sole
+authority of Cleitarchus, one of the least trustworthy of the historians
+of Alexander, and is in all probability a mere fable." After the death
+of Alexander, Thais became the wife of Ptolemy Lagus.
+
+4. =Timotheus.= A famous flute-player from Thebes. Another and more
+celebrated Timotheus, "the poet of the later Athenian dithyramb," was a
+native of Miletus and died about the time of Alexander's birth.
+
+5. Alexander claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon; and when he visited
+the temple of that god, in the Libyan Desert, he was received by the
+priests and honored as such. See Plutarch's _Life of Alexander_.
+
+6. =present deity.= See Psalm xlvi. 1.
+
+7. =affects to nod.= See Homer's "Iliad." I, 528-530: "Jove spake, and
+nodded his dark brow, and the ambrosial locks waved from his immortal
+head; and he made great Olympus quake."
+
+8. =hautboys.= Oboes. French _hautbois_. Wind instruments resembling the
+clarionet.
+
+=Bacchus.= Compare Shakespeare:
+
+     "Come, thou monarch of the vine,
+      Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne."
+                         --_Antony and Cleopatra_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+9. =thrice he slew the slain.= How could he slay the slain?
+
+10. =Darius.= At the time of this feast at Persepolis, Darius, the
+vanquished king of Persia, was still living, although a fugitive. In the
+following year Alexander pursued him into the Parthian Desert, where he
+was murdered by the satrap of Bactria. By order of Alexander, the body
+of the unfortunate king was sent to Persepolis, to be buried in the
+tombs of the kings.
+
+11. =expos'd he lies.= Dryden seems to have written this under the
+impression that Darius had been killed before the time of the great
+feast at Persepolis.
+
+12. =close his eyes.= Compare this with the lines from Pope ("Elegy on an
+Unfortunate Lady"):
+
+     "By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;
+      By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed."
+
+13. =a sigh he stole.= Sighed silently. His sighs when the result of pity
+were not very distinctly uttered. Compare Shakespeare:
+
+              "And then the lover,
+      Sighing like a furnace."
+                               --_As You Like It_, Act ii, sc. 7.
+
+And then read, in the next stanza, how Alexander sighed when moved by
+love.
+
+14. =pity melts the mind to love.= Compare:
+
+     "Pity swells the tide of love."
+                            --_Young's Night Thoughts_, III, 106.
+
+     "Pity's akin to love."
+                                  --_Southern's Oroonoko_, II, 1.
+
+15. =Lydian measures.= The people of Lydia were noted for the effeminacy
+of their manners. And Lydian music was peculiarly soft and voluptuous.
+
+     "And ever against eating cares,
+      Lap me in soft Lydian airs."
+                                     --_Milton's L'Allegro_, 135.
+
+     "And all the while sweet Musicke did divide
+      Her looser notes with Lydian harmony."
+                             --_Spenser's Faerie Queene_, III, 1.
+
+Observe the change in metre in the ten lines beginning "Softly sweet."
+What does the word _sweet_ modify?
+
+16. =Honor, but an empty bubble.= So Shakespeare:
+
+     "Honor is a mere scutcheon."
+                                   --_1 Henry IV._, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+17. =The many.= The multitude.
+
+18. =sigh'd and look'd.= He no longer _steals_ a sigh, as he did when
+pitying Darius. See note 13, above.
+
+19. =Break his bands of sleep.= The music now is very different from the
+Lydian measures which "soothed his soul to pleasures." "Suidas," says
+Dr. Warton, "mentions the Orthian style in music, in which Timotheus is
+said to have played to Alexander; and one Antigenidas inflamed this
+prince still more by striking into what were called Harmatian measures.
+Quintus Curtius gives a minute description of the burning of the palace
+at Persepolis, when Alexander was accompanied by Thais. But it does not
+appear in the accurate Arrian that Thais had any share in this
+transaction. Arrian, but more so Aristobulus, endeavored to exculpate
+Alexander from the charge of frequent ebriety; but Menander plainly
+mentions the drunkenness of Alexander as proverbial."
+
+20. =Furies.= The Eumenides, or avengers of evil. They are variously
+represented by the poets. Æschylus describes them as having black
+bodies, hair composed of twining snakes, and eyes dripping with blood.
+
+21. =Grecian ghosts.= The spirits of the Greek warriors in Alexander's
+army who had been slain by the Persians.
+
+22. =crew.= This word was formerly used to designate any associated
+multitude or assemblage of persons. It is now restricted to a ship's
+company, except when occasionally used in a bad sense. From A.-S.
+_cread_ or _cruth_, a crowd.
+
+23. =Thais led the way, etc.= See note 19, above. Neither Thais nor Helen
+actually fired any city. What the poet means to say is that, as Helen
+was the cause of the destruction of Troy, so Thais instigated the
+burning of Persepolis.
+
+24. =organs.= The word _organ_ originally denoted but a single pipe, and
+hence the older English writers, when referring to the complete
+instrument, generally used the word in the plural number. "Father
+Schmidt and other famous organ-builders flourished in the latter part of
+the seventeenth century. The organ in Temple Church, London, was built
+by Schmidt in Charles II.'s time."
+
+25. =vocal frame.= The organ--the grand instrument of church music--so
+perfect that it may literally be said to speak. See introductory note to
+Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," page 153.
+
+26. St. Cecilia, according to the story in the "Golden Legend," was
+under the immediate protection of an angel. But it was not her sweet
+playing, but her spotless purity, that brought the angel to earth, not
+to listen, but to be "a heavenly guard."
+
+Compare these last four lines with those at the close of Pope's Ode.
+
+Dr. Warton says of "Alexander's Feast": "If Dryden had never written
+anything but this ode, his name would have been immortal, as would that
+of Gray, if he had never written anything but his 'Bard.' It is
+difficult to find new terms to express our admiration of the variety,
+richness, and melody of its numbers; the force, beauty, and distinctness
+of its images; the succession of so many different passions and
+feelings; and the matchless perspicuity of its diction. No particle of
+it can be wished away, but the epigrammatic turn of the four concluding
+lines."
+
+Hallam says: "This ode has a few lines mingled with a far greater number
+ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit
+which Dryden hardly ever wanted, but it is too faulty for high praise.
+It used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the
+language. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level
+of a common drinking song. It has the defects as well as the merits of
+that poetry which is written for musical accompaniment."
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE OF LONDON.
+
+[FROM "ANNUS MIRABILIS."]
+
+
+     Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,{1}
+       Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
+     From thence did soon to open streets aspire,
+       And straight to palaces and temples spread.
+
+     The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain,
+       And luxury, more late, asleep were laid;
+     All was the Night's, and in her silent reign
+       No sound the rest of Nature did invade.
+
+     In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,{2}
+       Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;
+     And first few scattering sparks about were blown,
+       Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
+
+     Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
+       And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
+     Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,
+       Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.
+
+     Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,
+       Too great for prison which he breaks with gold,
+     Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
+       And dares the world to tax him with the old,
+
+     So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,
+       And makes small outlets into open air;
+     There the fierce winds his tender force assail,
+       And beat him downward to his first repair.
+
+     The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld
+       His flames from burning but to blow them more:
+     And, every fresh attempt, he is repell'd
+       With faint denials, weaker than before.
+
+     And now, no longer letted{3} of his prey,
+       He leaps up at it with enraged desire,
+     O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,
+       And nods at every house his threatening fire.
+
+     The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge{4} descend,
+       With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;
+     About the fire into a dance they bend,
+       And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.
+
+     Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,
+       Above the palace of our slumbering King;
+     He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,
+       And drooping oft look'd back upon the wing.
+
+     At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze
+       Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
+     And long it was ere he the rest could raise,
+       Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.
+
+     The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,
+       Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire;
+     And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late
+       For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
+
+     Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;
+       Now murmuring noises rise in every street;
+     The more remote run stumbling with their fear,
+       And in the dark men justle as they meet.
+
+     So weary bees in little cells repose;
+       But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive,
+     An humming through their waxen city grows,
+       And out upon each other's wings they drive.{5}
+
+     Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day;
+       Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire;
+     Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,
+       And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.
+
+     In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind
+       His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;
+     The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,
+       And forward with a wanton fury went.
+
+     A key{6} of fire ran all along the shore,
+       And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;
+     The waken'd tides began again to roar,
+       And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.
+
+     Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
+       But fear'd the fate of Simois{7} would return;
+     Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,
+       And shrank his waters back into his urn.
+
+     The fire meantime walks in a broader gross;{8}
+       To either hand his wings he opens wide;
+     He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,
+       And plays his longing flames on the other side.
+
+     At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;
+       Now with long necks from side to side they feed;
+     At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,
+       And a new colony of flames succeed.
+
+     To every nobler portion of the town
+       The curling billows roll their restless tide;
+     In parties now they straggle up and down,
+       As armies unopposed for prey divide.
+
+     One mighty squadron, with a sidewind sped,
+       Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,
+     By powerful charms of gold and silver led
+       The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.
+
+     Another backward to the Tower would go,
+       And slowly eats his way against the wind;
+     But the main body of the marching foe
+       Against the imperial palace is design'd.
+
+     Now day appears; and with the day the King,
+       Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;
+     Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,
+       And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.
+
+     Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke
+       With gloomy pillars cover all the place;
+     Whose little intervals of night are broke
+       By sparks that drive against his sacred face.
+
+     More than his guards his sorrows made him known,
+       And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower;
+     The wretched in his grief forgot their own;
+       So much the pity of a king has power.
+
+     He wept the flames of what he lov'd so well,
+       And what so well had merited his love;
+     For never prince in grace did more excel,
+       Or royal city more in duty strove.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This selection from Dryden's long and very tedious poem, "Annus
+Mirabilis, the year of Wonders, 1666," is given here as a specimen of
+that kind of mechanical versification so popular in the latter half of
+the seventeenth century. "That part of my poem which describes the
+Fire," says Dryden, "I owe first to the piety and fatherly affection of
+our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the
+courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both of which were so
+conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve.
+And I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in
+alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of
+greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in
+use amongst us." This opinion, however, was certainly not long
+maintained by the poet, for he never afterward practised that form of
+versification which he has here praised.
+
+1. =this prodigious fire.= A half sheet published immediately after the
+Great Fire contains this account of the catastrophe which Dryden
+describes in his verses:
+
+"On Sunday, the second of September, this present year 1666, about one
+o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in
+_Pudding-lane_ near _New Fish-street_; which, falling out in a part of
+the city so close built with wooden houses . . . in a short time became
+too big to be mastered by any engines or working near it. . . . It
+continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it consumed
+houses and churches all the way to _St. Dunstan's Church_, in
+_Fleet-street_; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened;
+and that night, by the vigilancy, industry, and indefatigable pains of
+his Majesty and his Royal Highness, calling upon all people, and
+encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the
+fire in Fleet-street, etc. But on Wednesday night it suddenly broke out
+afresh in the _Inner Temple_. His Royal Highness in person fortunately
+watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and
+seasonable commands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said
+buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished."
+
+2. =source unknown.= "It was ascribed by the rage of the people either to
+the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription
+on the monument, intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion, was
+erased by James II., but restored at the Revolution."--_Warton._
+
+3. =letted.= Hindered. This use of the word _let_ is now obsolete, except
+in the phrase, "Without let or hindrance." It was frequently employed
+by the older writers.
+
+     "What lets but one may enter?"--_Shakespeare._
+
+4. =the Bridge.= The heads of traitors were displayed on London Bridge.
+"How inferior is this passage," says Dr. Dodd, "to Milton's animated
+description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however,
+seems to have here had in mind." See "Ode on the Nativity," stanza
+xxiii.
+
+5. The simile in this stanza was doubtless intended to be very
+effective.
+
+6. =key.= Quay. A bank, or ledge.
+
+7. =Simois.= See Homer's "Iliad," Bk. XXI.
+
+8. =gross.= Bulk.
+
+
+
+
+REASON AND RELIGION.
+
+[FROM "RELIGIO LAICI."]
+
+
+     Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
+     To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
+     Is Reason to the soul: and as on high,
+     Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
+     Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
+     Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
+     But guide us upward to a better day.
+     And as those nightly tapers disappear,
+     When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
+     So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
+     So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
+     Some few whose light shone brighter, have been led
+     From cause to cause, to nature's secret head;
+     And found that one first principle must be,
+     But what, or who, that Universal HE;
+     Whether some soul incompassing this ball,
+     Unmade, unmov'd, yet making, moving all,
+     Or various atoms' interfering dance
+     Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance,
+     Or this great All was from eternity--
+     Not even the Stagirite himself could see,
+     And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;
+     As blindly groped they for a future state,
+     As rashly judged of providence and fate.
+     In this wild maze their vain endeavors end:
+     How can the less the greater comprehend?
+     Or finite Reason reach Infinity?
+     For what could fathom God were more than He.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN DRYDEN was born on the 9th of August, 1631, at Aldwincle All
+Saints, near Oundle in Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster
+School, under the famous Dr. Busby, and at Trinity College, Cambridge.
+At the age of twenty-six he went up to London with the intention of
+devoting himself to literature and politics. During the brief remaining
+years of the Commonwealth (1657-1660) he was nominally a friend to the
+Puritan party; and one of the first poems written by him was a series of
+"Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell." At the Restoration he
+at once espoused the cause of the Royalists; and his recent panegyric on
+the Protector did not prevent him from writing a poem, "Astræa Redux,"
+in honor of the return of Charles the Second. In 1663 he married the
+Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, a Royalist
+nobleman. For several years he devoted himself chiefly to the writing of
+plays,--comedies, tragedies, and tragi-comedies. The comedies he wrote
+in prose; the earliest tragedies in blank verse, followed by several in
+rhyme, and, after these, others in blank verse. In 1670 he was appointed
+Poet-Laureate. In 1681, when nearly fifty years old, by the publication
+of "Absalom and Achitophel," he suddenly became famous as a satirical
+poet. He soon afterwards wrote "The Medal," another satire, directed
+against the Earl of Shaftesbury, and "Mac Flecknoe," aimed at Shadwell,
+the chief poet of the Opposition. At about the same time he produced
+"Religio Laici," a didactic poem explaining his religious opinions and
+defending the Church of England against dissenters, atheists, and
+Catholics. Not long after the accession of James II., Dryden, true to
+his policy of being always on the side of the ruling party, became a
+Catholic, and wrote "The Hind and the Panther," in which he eulogized
+many things that, in the former poem, he had ridiculed. His political
+career ended with the overthrow of James II., in 1688; but his literary
+activity continued unabated. The last years of his life were occupied in
+translating the works of Persius and Juvenal and the Æneid of Virgil. In
+1697 he wrote "Alexander's Feast"; and his "modernizations" of some of
+Chaucer's poems appeared in 1700, the year of his death.
+
+"If there is grandeur in the pomp of kings and the march of hosts," says
+A. W. Ward, "in the 'trumpet's loud clangor' and in tapestries and
+carpetings of velvet and gold, Dryden is to be ranked with the grandest
+of English poets. The irresistible impetus of an invective which never
+falls short or flat, and the savor of a satire which never seems dull or
+stale, give him an undisputed place among the most glorious of English
+wits."
+
+"His descriptive power was of the highest," says Hales. "Our literature
+has in it no more vigorous portrait-gallery than that he has bequeathed
+it. His power of expression is beyond praise. There is always a singular
+_fitness_ in his language: he uses always the right word. He is one of
+our greatest masters of metre: metre was, in fact, no restraint to him,
+but rather it seems to have given him freedom. It has been observed that
+he argues better in verse than in prose; verse was the natural costume
+of his thoughts."
+
+Professor Masson says: "Not only is Dryden the largest figure in one era
+of our literature: he is a very considerable figure also in our
+literature as a whole. Of all that he wrote, however, there is but a
+comparatively small portion that has won for itself a permanent place in
+our literature."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= Absalom and Achitophel; Mac Flecknoe; Religio
+Laici; Threnodia Augustalis.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_;
+Lowell's _Among My Books_; Macaulay's _Essay on John Dryden_; Taine's
+_English Literature_; Masson's _Three Devils and Other Essays_;
+Thackeray's _English Humorists_.
+
+
+
+
+John Milton.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.
+
+
+I.
+
+     This is the month, and this the happy morn,
+     Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
+     Of wedded Maid and Virgin mother born,
+     Our great redemption from above did bring:
+     For so the holy Sages once did sing:
+       That he our deadly forfeit should release,{1}
+     And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
+
+
+II.
+
+     The glorious form, that light unsufferable,
+     And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,
+     Wherewith he wont{2} at Heav'ns high council-table
+     To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
+     He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
+       Forsook the courts of everlasting day,
+     And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.{3}
+
+
+III.
+
+     Say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein
+     Afford a present to the Infant God?
+     Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein
+     To welcome him to this his new abode
+     Now while the Heav'n by the suns team untrod
+       Hath took no print of the approaching light,
+     And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
+
+
+IV.
+
+     See how from far upon the eastern rode
+     The star-led Wisards{4} haste with odours sweet;
+     O run, prevent{5} them with thy humble ode,
+     And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
+     Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,
+       And join thy voice unto the angel quire,{6}
+     From out his secret altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
+
+
+
+
+THE HYMN.
+
+
+I.
+
+         It was the winter wilde
+         While the Heav'n-born childe
+     All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
+         Nature in aw of him
+         Had doff't her gaudy trim,
+     With her great Master so to sympathize:
+         It was no season then for her
+         To wanton with the sun her lusty paramour.{7}
+
+
+II.
+
+         Onely with speeches fair
+         She woo's the gentle air
+     To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,
+         And on her naked shame,
+         Pollute with sinfull blame,
+     The saintly veil of maiden{8} white to throw:
+         Confounded that her Makers eyes
+         Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
+
+
+III.
+
+         But he, her fears to cease,
+         Sent down the meek-eyed Peace,
+     She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
+         Down through the turning sphear,{9}
+         His ready harbinger,{10}
+     With turtle{11} wing the amorous clouds dividing,
+         And, waving wide her mirtle wand,
+         She strikes a universall peace{12} through sea and land.
+
+
+IV.
+
+         No war, or battails sound,
+         Was heard the world around;
+     The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
+         The hooked chariot{13} stood
+         Unstain'd with hostile blood;
+     The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
+         And kings sate still with awfull eye,{14}
+         As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
+
+
+V.
+
+         But peacefull was the night
+         Wherein the Prince of Light
+     His raign of peace upon the earth began;
+         The windes, with wonder whist,{15}
+         Smoothly the waters kist,
+     Whispering new joyes to the milde ocean,
+         Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
+         While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
+
+
+VI.
+
+         The stars, with deep amaze,
+         Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,
+     Bending one way their precious influence,{16}
+         And will not take their flight
+         For{17} all the morning light
+     Or Lucifer{18} that often warn'd them thence;
+         But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
+         Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
+
+
+VII.
+
+         And, though the shady Gloom
+         Had given day her room,
+     The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,
+         And hid his head for shame,
+         As his inferiour flame
+     The new-enlightn'd world no more should need;
+         He saw a greater sun appear
+         Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree{19} could bear.
+
+
+VIII.
+
+         The shepherds on the lawn{20}
+         Or ere{21} the point of dawn
+     Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;
+         Full little thought they than
+         That the mighty Pan{22}
+     Was kindly com to live with them below;
+         Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
+         Was all that did their silly{23} thoughts so busie keep.
+
+
+IX.
+
+         When such musick sweet
+         Their hearts and ears did greet
+     As never was by mortall finger strook,{24}
+         Divinely warbled voice
+         Answering the stringed noise{25}
+     As all their souls in blissfull rapture took;
+         The air, such pleasure loth to lose,
+         With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.{26}
+
+
+X.
+
+         Nature that heard such sound
+         Beneath the hollow round{27}
+     Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling,
+         Now was almost won
+         To think her part was don,
+     And that her raign had here its{28} last fulfilling;
+         She knew such harmony alone
+         Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
+
+
+XI.
+
+         At last surrounds their sight
+         A globe of circular light,
+     That with long beams the shame-fac't Night array'd;
+         The helmed Cherubim,{29}
+         The sworded Seraphim
+     Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaied,
+         Harping in loud and solemn quire
+         With unexpressive{30} notes to Heav'n's new-born Heir.
+
+
+XII.
+
+         Such musick (as 'tis said)
+         Before was never made
+     But when of old the sons of Morning sung,{31}
+         While the Creator great
+         His constellation set,
+     And the well-ballanc't world on hinges{32} hung,
+         And cast the dark foundations deep,
+         And bid the weltring{33} waves their oozy channel keep.
+
+
+XIII.
+
+         Ring out, ye crystall sphears;{34}
+         Once bless our humane ears
+     (If ye have power to touch our senses so),
+         And let your silver chime
+         Move in melodious time,
+     And let the base of Heav'ns deep organ blow,
+         And with your ninefold harmony
+         Make up full consort{35} to th' angelike symphony.
+
+
+XIV.
+
+         For, if such holy song
+         Enwrap our fancy long,
+     Time will run back and fetch the age of Gold;{36}
+         And speckl'd Vanity
+         Will sicken soon and die,
+     And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;{37}
+         And Hell itself will pass away,
+         And leave her{38} dolorous mansions to the peering day.
+
+
+XV.
+
+         Yea, Truth and Justice then
+         Will down return to men,
+     Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
+         Mercy will set between,
+         Thron'd in celestiall sheen,
+     With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing;
+         And Heav'n, as at som festivall,
+         Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.{39}
+
+
+XVI.
+
+         But wisest Fate sayes no;
+         This must not yet be so;
+     The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
+         That on the bitter cross{40}
+         Must redeem our loss,
+     So both himself and us to glorifie;
+         Yet first to those ychain'd{41} in sleep
+         The wakefull trump{42} of doom must thunder through the deep.
+
+
+XVII.
+
+         With such a horrid clang
+         As on Mount Sinai rang,{43}
+     While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake;
+         The aged Earth, agast,
+         With terrour of that blast,
+     Shall from the surface to the center shake;
+         When at the worlds last session{44}
+         The dreadfull Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+         And then at last our bliss
+         Full and perfect is,
+     But now begins; for from this happy day,
+         Th' old Dragon{45} under ground,
+         In straiter limits bound,
+     Not half so far casts his usurped sway;
+         And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
+         Swindges{46} the scaly horrour of his foulded tail.
+
+
+XIX.
+
+         The oracles are dumm;{47}
+         No voice or hideous humm
+     Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
+         Apollo from his shrine
+         Can no more divine,
+     With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos{48} leaving.
+         No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
+         Inspires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.
+
+
+XX.
+
+         The lonely mountains o'er
+         And the resounding shore
+     A voice of weeping{49} heard and loud lament;
+         From haunted spring and dale
+         Edged with poplar pale
+     The parting{50} Genius is with sighing sent;
+         With floure-inwov'n tresses torn
+         The nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
+
+
+XXI.
+
+         In consecrated earth,
+         And on the holy hearth{51}
+     The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint
+         In urns and altars round,
+         A drear and dying sound
+     Affrights the Flamins{52} at their service quaint
+         And the chill marble seems to sweat,
+         While each peculiar power forgoes{53} his wonted seat.
+
+
+XXII.
+
+         Peor and Baälim{54}
+         Forsake their temples dim,
+     With that twise batter'd god{55} of Palestine;
+         And mooned Ashtaroth,
+         Heav'ns queen and mother both,
+     Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine;
+         The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;
+         In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn;{56}
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+         And sullen Moloch, fled,
+         Hath left in shadows dred{57}
+     His burning idol all of blackest hue;
+         In vain with cymbals ring
+         They call the grisly{58} King
+     In dismall dance about the furnace blue;
+         The brutish{59} gods of Nile as fast,
+         Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis last.
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+         Nor is Osiris seen
+         In Memphian grove or green
+     Trampling the unshowr'd grass{60} with lowings loud,
+         Nor can he be at rest
+         Within his sacred chest;
+     Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;
+         In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark
+         The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.
+
+
+XXV.
+
+         He feels from Judas land
+         The dredded Infants hand;
+     The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;{61}
+         Nor all the gods beside
+         Longer dare abide,
+     Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
+         Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
+         Can in his swaddling bands controul the damned crew.
+
+
+XXVI.
+
+         So, when the Sun in bed,{62}
+         Curtain'd with cloudy red
+     Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
+         The flocking shadows pale
+         Troop to th' infernal jail;
+     Each fetter'd ghost slips to his severall grave;
+         And the yellow-skirted Fayes
+         Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+         But see the Virgin blest
+         Hath laid her Babe to rest;
+     Time is our tedious song should here have ending;
+         Heav'ns youngest teemed{63} star
+         Hath fixt her polish'd car,
+     Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;
+         And all about the courtly stable
+         Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.{64}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was begun by Milton on Christmas day, 1629. He had then just
+completed his twenty-first year, and was still an undergraduate at
+Christ's College, Cambridge. From certain fragments and other evidence,
+it is believed that he contemplated writing a series of poems on great
+Christian events in a similar way. This is the first poem of importance
+which he wrote. Hallam speaks of it as perhaps the finest lyric of its
+kind in the English language. "A grandeur, a simplicity, a breadth of
+manner, an imagination at once elevated and restrained by the subject,
+reign throughout it. If Pindar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be
+hard to name any other ode so truly Pindaric; but more has naturally
+been derived from the Scriptures."
+
+1. =our deadly forfeit should release.= Should remit the penalty of death
+pronounced against us. Shakespeare has a similar use of the word
+"forfeit."
+
+     "Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal
+      Remit thy other forfeits."
+                           --_Measure for Measure_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+2. =wont.= The past tense of the A.-S. verb _wunian_, to persist, to
+continue, to be accustomed. Now used only in connection with some form
+of the auxiliary verb _be_.
+
+3. Explain the meaning of each word in this line, and of the whole line.
+The next two stanzas comprise an invocation to the Muse of Poetry. See
+note 1, page 153.
+
+4. =Wisards.= Wizards. Wise men. The word was originally used in this
+sense, and not with the depreciatory meaning of "magician," as at
+present. Spenser says:
+
+     "Therefore the antique wizards well invented
+      That Venus of the fomy sea was bred,"
+
+meaning by "antique wizards" ancient philosophers.
+
+5. =prevent.= Go before; the original meaning of the word, from Lat.
+_præ_, before, and _venio_, to go or come.
+
+     "I prevented the dawning of the morning."--_Psalm_ cxix. 147.
+
+     "I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning, for I will
+     prevent the sun rising."--_Izaak Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+6. =angel quire.= "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
+the heavenly host praising God."--_Luke_ ii, 13.
+
+7. =paramour.= See note 9, page 80.
+
+8. =maiden.= Pure, innocent, unpolluted. Compare
+
+     "When I am dead, strew me o'er
+      With maiden flowers."
+                    --_Shakespeare_, _Henry VIII_, Act iv, sc. 2.
+
+9. =turning sphear.= The Ptolemaic system of astronomy taught that the
+earth was the centre of the universe, and that all the heavenly bodies
+revolved about it, being fixed in a complicated framework, or series of
+hollow crystalline spheres moving one within the other. The "turning
+sphear" is here this entire system of revolving spheres. See note 34,
+below.
+
+10. =harbinger.= One who provides a resting-place for a superior person.
+It was the duty of the king's harbinger, when the court removed from one
+place to another, to provide lodgings for the king's retinue. Derived
+from _harbor_, _harborage_. The word "harbor" is from A.-S. _here_,
+army, and _beorg_, a refuge. Others derive the word from _har_, a
+message, and _bringer_--hence, one who brings a message, a herald.
+
+Parkes's _Topography of Hampstead_, 1818, contains the following:
+
+"The office of harbinger still exists in the Royal Household, the
+nominal duty of the officer being to ride one stage onward before the
+king on his progress, to provide lodging and provision for the court."
+
+The last knight-harbinger was Sir Henry Rycroft (appointed in 1816, died
+October, 1846, aged eighty). The office became extinct at his death.
+
+11. =turtle.= Commonly _turtle-dove_. For history of the word as now
+applied to the tortoise, see Worcester's Dictionary.
+
+12. =universall peace.= About the time of the birth of Christ there was
+peace throughout the Roman Empire, and the temple of Janus was shut.
+
+13. =hooked chariot.= The war-chariot armed with scythes, a Celtic
+invention adopted by the Romans.
+
+14. =awfull eye.= We would say, "awe-filled eyes."
+
+=sovran.= Old French _souverain_. Some derive it from Lat. _supra_, above,
+and _regno_, to reign.
+
+15. =whist.= Hushed. This word, now used as a sort of interjection
+commanding silence, seems to have had in earlier English more of a
+verbal meaning, as Spenser in "The Faerie Queene," VII, vii, 59:
+
+     "So was the Titaness put downe and whist."
+
+It also meant _to keep silent_, as in Surrey's "Virgil":
+
+     "They whisted all, with fixed face intent."
+
+A game of cards in which the players are supposed to keep silent is
+called whist.
+
+=birds of calm.= Halcyons. See note 1, page 78.
+
+16. =influence.= From Lat. _in_, into, and _fluo_, to flow. This word,
+until a comparatively modern date, was always used with respect to the
+supposed mysterious rays or aspects flowing from the stars to the earth,
+and thus having a strange power over the fortunes of men. "Canst thou
+bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades?"--_Job_ xxviii. 31.
+
+     "Happy constellations on that hour
+      Shed their selectest influences."
+                                    --_Paradise Lost_, VIII, 512.
+
+17. =For.= Notwithstanding.
+
+18. =Lucifer.= The morning star. The idea of Lucifer appearing to warn the
+stars of the approach of the sun is a happy figure. See note 7, page 80.
+
+19. =axle-tree.= Axis. _Tree_ in O. E. is used to signify beam. We still
+have _single-tree_, _double-tree_, _whiffle-tree_, etc. Compare "Comus,"
+95:
+
+     "The gilded car of day
+      His glowing axle doth allay."
+
+20. =lawn.= Used in its original sense of a pasture, or open, grassy
+space. Formerly _laund_. Similarly we have _lane_, an open passage
+between houses or fields.
+
+21. =Or ere.= _Or_ is here used in its old sense, meaning _before_, from
+A.-S. _ær_. _Ere_ = e'er, ever. Compare Ecclesiastes xii. 6: "Or ever
+the silver cord be loosed." Also "King Lear," Act ii, sc. 4:
+
+                       "But this heart
+      Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
+      Or ere I'll weep."
+
+22. =Pan.= See note, page 72. The application of the name _Pan_ to Christ
+is evidently derived from Spenser. See "Shepheards Calendar," July:
+
+     "And such, I ween, the brethren were
+        That came from Canaän,
+      The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere
+        The flocks of mightie Pan."
+
+In the Glosse to the Calendar for May it is said that "Great Pan is
+Christ, the very God of all shepheards, which calleth himselfe the great
+and good shepheard. The name is most rightly (methinks) applied to him;
+for Pan signifieth all, or omnipotent, which is only the Lord Iesus. And
+by that name (as I remember) he is called of Eusebius in his fifth
+booke, _De Preparat. Evange._"
+
+23. =silly.= From A.-S. _saelig_, blessed, happy. Spenser uses the word in
+the sense of innocent, as in "Faerie Queene," III, viii, 27:
+
+     "The silly virgin strove him to withstand."
+
+Chaucer, in the "Reves Tale," uses it in the more modern sense of
+simple, or foolish:
+
+     "These sely clerkes han ful fast yronne."
+
+But in the "Legend of Good Women" it has another meaning:
+
+     "O sely woman, full of innocence."
+
+The meaning of this word has completely changed.
+
+24. =strook.= Caused to sound as on a stringed instrument. Compare Dryden
+in "Alexander's Feast":
+
+     "Now strike the golden lyre again."
+
+25. =noise.= A company of musicians under a leader. Used in this sense by
+both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.
+
+26. =close.= Cadence. See Dryden, "Fables":
+
+     "At every _close_ she made, th' attending throng
+      Replied, and bore the burden of the song."
+
+27. =hollow round.= The sphere in which the moon has its motion. See notes
+9 and 34.
+
+=Cynthia.= The moon. In the ancient mythology applied to Artemis, from
+Mount Cynthus in the island of Delos, her birthplace.
+
+28. =its.= In all his poetry, Milton uses this word only three times. The
+other examples are in "Paradise Lost," I, 254, and IV, 814. This
+possessive form of the pronoun it was never used until the time of
+Shakespeare, who employs it five times in "A Winter's Tale," and once in
+"Measure for Measure"; it does not occur anywhere in the authorized
+version of the Bible.
+
+29. Why are the Cherubim "helmed," while the Seraphim are "sworded"?
+Addison says, "Some of the rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set
+of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love
+most." Observe that the plural of cherub or of seraph may be formed in
+three ways: viz. cherubs, cherubim, cherubims; seraphs, seraphim,
+seraphims.
+
+30. =unexpressive.= Inexpressible. See Shakespeare, "As You Like It":
+
+     "The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she."
+
+Also Milton, "Lycidas," 176:
+
+     "And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song."
+
+31. =the sons of Morning sung.= See Job xxxviii. 4-7, the oldest reference
+to the "music of the spheres." See note 34, below.
+
+32. =hinges.= Literally, a hinge is anything for hanging something upon.
+From A.-S. _hangian_.
+
+33. =weltring.= Rolling, wallowing. See "Lycidas," 13.
+
+34. =Ring out.= An allusion to the music of the spheres. See note 27,
+above. The theory of Pythagoras was that the distances between the
+heavenly bodies were determined by the laws of musical concord. "These
+orbs in their motion could not but produce a certain sound or note,
+depending upon their distances and velocities; and as these were
+regulated by harmonic laws, they necessarily formed as a whole a
+complete musical scale." "In the whorl of the distaff of necessity there
+are eight concentric whorls. These whorls represent respectively the sun
+and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars. On each whorl sits a
+siren singing. Their eight tones make one exquisite harmony." Milton
+added a ninth whorl,--"that swift nocturnal and diurnal rhomb,"--and
+then spoke of the "ninefold harmony," as just below. This was a favorite
+idea with the poets.
+
+     "Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,
+      Listening the lordly music flowing from
+      The illimitable years."
+                                   --_Tennyson_, _Ode to Memory_.
+
+     "The music of the spheres! list, my Mariana!"
+                       --_Shakespeare_, _Pericles_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
+      But in his motion like an angel sings
+      Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims."
+             --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act v, sc. 1.
+
+     "If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears,
+      And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,
+      How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
+      The whispering zephyr and the purling rill!"
+                                     --_Pope_, _Essay on Man_, I.
+
+     "Her voice, the music of the spheres,
+      So loud, it deafens mortals' ears,
+      As wise philosophers have thought,
+      And that's the cause we hear it not."
+                               --_Butler's Hudibras_, II, i, 617.
+
+See, also, Montaigne, _Essays_, I, xxii; Sir Thomas Browne's _Religio
+Medici_, II, 9; Plato's _Republic_, VI; Dryden's "Ode to Mrs. Anne
+Killigrew," etc.
+
+35. =consort.= Accompaniment. This word, so written until Milton's time,
+has now given place to _concert_, whenever used as here.
+
+36. =age of Gold.= The fabled primeval age of universal happiness.
+
+     "A blisful lyfe, a peseable, and so swete,
+      Ledde the peplis in the former age."--_Chaucer._
+
+37. =mould.= Matter, substance. The word is used in the old Romances to
+denote the earth itself. Milton elsewhere says:
+
+     "Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
+      Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?"
+
+38. =her.= Observe what has already been said (note 28, above) about the
+pronoun _its_. _Hell_, in the Anglo-Saxon language, is feminine. But,
+just above, observe the expression _it self_. See, in the last line of
+stanza xv, the pronoun _her_ with _heaven_ as its antecedent. _Heofon_,
+in the Anglo-Saxon, is also feminine.
+
+39. This stanza is a fine example of word-painting. What idea is
+conveyed to your mind by the expressions, "orb'd in a rainbow," "like
+glories wearing," "thron'd in celestiall sheen," "the tissued clouds
+down stearing," etc.? What kind of glories will Mercy wear? Where will
+she sit? How will she be enthroned? What are _radiant_ feet? Why are
+Mercy's feet radiant? Does she steer the tissued clouds "with radiant
+feet," or does she steer herself down the tissued clouds? Why will the
+opening of Heaven's high palace wall be "as at some festivall"?
+
+40. =bitter cross.= Compare Shakespeare, "1 Henry IV," Act i, sc. 1, 27:
+
+                             "Those blessed feet
+      Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
+      For our advantage, on the bitter cross."
+
+41. =ychain'd.= The _y_ is a corruption of the prefix _ge_, anciently used
+in connection with the past participle, and still retained in many
+German words. Often used by Chaucer and Spenser, as in yblessed,
+yburied, ybrent, yfonden, ygeten, yclad, yfraught, etc.
+
+42. =trump.= "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
+with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead
+in Christ shall rise first."--_1 Thessalonians_ iv. 16.
+
+=wakefull.= Awakening.
+
+43. =rang.= See Exodus xix.
+
+44. =session.= Assize. Both words were originally from the same root, Lat.
+_sedeo_, _sessum_.
+
+=spread.= Prepare, make ready. A similar use of the word survives in the
+idiom "to spread the table."
+
+45. =Dragon.= See Revelation xii. 9.
+
+46. =Swindges.= Swings about violently. This is the only case in which
+Milton uses this word. It is used several times by Shakespeare in the
+sense of _to whip_, _to scourge_.
+
+47. =oracles are dumm.= Keightly says: "This was a frequent assertion of
+the Fathers, who ascribed to the coming of Christ what was the effect of
+time. They regarded the ancient oracles as having been the inspiration
+of the devil."
+
+Spenser, quoting the story which Plutarch relates in "his Booke of the
+ceasing of miracles," says, "For at that time, as hee sayth, all Oracles
+surceased, and enchaunted spirites that were woont to delude the people
+thenceforth held their peace."--_Glosse to Shepheards Calendar, May._
+
+48. =Delphos.= The mediæval form of the word _Delphi_. The temple where
+was the chief oracle of Apollo was at Delphi, built at the foot of a
+precipitous cliff two thousand feet high. This oracle was suppressed by
+the Emperor Theodosius.
+
+49. =weeping.= Compare Matthew ii. 19, and Jeremiah xxxi. 15.
+
+Spenser, in the same _Glosse_, quoted from above, says, "About the same
+time that our Lorde suffered his most bitter passion for the redemption
+of man, certaine persons sailing from Italie to Cyprus and passing by
+certaine iles called Paxæ, heard a voice calling aloud Thamus, Thamus,
+(now Thamus was the name of an Egyptian which was pylote of the ship),
+who, giving ear to the crie, was bidden, when he came to Palodes to tell
+that great Pan was dead: which hee doubting to doe, yet for that when
+hee came to Palodes, there suddenly was such a calme of winde that the
+ship stoode still in the sea unmooved, he was forced to crie aloude that
+Pan was dead: wherewithall there was heard such piteous outcries, and
+dreadfull shriking as hath not beene the like."
+
+50. =parting.= Departing. Frequently used in Old English.
+
+=Genius.= Spirit. See "Lycidas," 182:
+
+     "Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore."
+
+51. =consecrated earth--holy hearth.= Referring to the places specially
+haunted by the Lars and Lemures. The Lemures were the spirits of the
+dead, and were said to wander about at night, frightening the living.
+The Lares were the household gods, sometimes referred to as the spirits
+of good men. The former frequented the graveyards; the latter, the
+hearths.
+
+52. =Flamins.= Priests.
+
+53. =forgoes.= Goes from, gives up, abandons.
+
+54. =Peor and Baälim.= Compare the proper names which occur in this and
+the following stanzas with those in "Paradise Lost," I, 316-352.
+
+=Peor.= The name of a mountain of Palestine is here used as one of the
+titles of Baal, who was worshipped there.
+
+=Baälim.= Plural of Baal, meaning that god in his various modifications.
+
+=Ashtaroth.= The Syrian goddess Astarte. But her worship was identified
+rather with the planet Venus than with the moon.
+
+=Hammon.= A Libyan deity, represented as a ram or as a man with ram's
+horns.
+
+55. =twise batter'd god.= Dagon. See 1 Samuel v.
+
+56. =mourn.= In Phoenicia, in the ancient city of Byblos, a festival of
+two days was held every year in honor of Adonis, or Thammuz, as the
+Phoenicians called him. The first day was observed as a day of
+mourning for the death of the god; the second, as a day of rejoicing
+because of his return to the earth. The principal participants were
+young women. The prophet Ezekiel alludes to this subject: "Then he
+brought me to the door of the gate of the Lord's house which was toward
+the north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz."--_Ezekiel_
+viii. 14.
+
+Milton, in "Paradise Lost," says:
+
+        "Thammuz came next behind,
+      Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd
+      The Syrian damsels to lament his fate
+      In amorous ditties all a summer's day."
+
+57. Compare with "Paradise Lost," I, 392-405. In _Sandys's Travels_,
+published in 1615, and a popular book in Milton's time, the following
+description is given of the sacrifices made to Moloch: "Therein the
+Hebrews sacrificed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having
+the head of a calf, the rest of a kingly figure, with arms extended to
+receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death with his burning
+embracements. For the idol was hollow within and filled with fire."
+
+58. =grisly.= Frightful, hideous. Probably from A.-S. _agrisan_, to dread.
+
+59. =brutish.= Shaped like a brute; animal.
+
+=Isis.= The Egyptian earth-goddess, afterwards worshipped as the goddess
+of the moon.
+
+=Orus.= The Egyptian god of the sun.
+
+the dog =Anubis=. Juvenal says, "Whole towns worship the dog."--_Sat._,
+XV, 8.
+
+60. =unshowr'd.= A reference to the general, though erroneous, idea that
+it does not rain in Egypt.
+
+=Osiris=, or Apis, one of the chief gods of the Egyptians, was represented
+by a bull.
+
+=sacred chest= = =worshipt ark=, below.
+
+61. =eyn.= The old plural form of eyes. This form of the plural survives
+in _oxen_, _children_, _brethren_, _kine_, _swine_.
+
+=Typhon.= A monster among the gods, variously described by the poets. He
+was a terror to all the other deities.
+
+62. =in bed.= The sun has not yet risen.
+
+63. =youngest teemed.= Referring to the Star of Bethlehem.
+
+64. Compare Milton's "Sonnet on his Blindness":
+
+     "They also serve who only stand and wait."
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN MILTON was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London, in the year
+1608, eight years before the death of Shakespeare. From his boyhood he
+showed the possession of more than ordinary powers of mind. He was
+educated first under private tutors, and at St. Paul's School, and
+finally at Christ's College, Cambridge, where in 1632 he received the
+degree of "Master of Arts." His first considerable work was the "Hymn on
+the Morning of the Nativity," written in 1629. Within the next seven
+years he wrote the most noteworthy of his shorter poems: the masque,
+"Comus"; the pastoral piece entitled "Arcades"; the beautiful
+descriptive poems, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso"; and the elegy,
+"Lycidas." In 1639 he made a tour upon the Continent, visited the famous
+seats of learning in France and Italy, and made the acquaintance of many
+of the great poets and scholars of his time. Upon hearing, however, that
+civil war was about to break out in England, he hastened home, resolved
+to devote himself to what he regarded as his country's best interests.
+Poetry was abandoned for politics, and for the next twenty years he
+wrote little except prose--political tracts and controversial essays.
+When Cromwell became Lord Protector of England, Milton was appointed
+Latin Secretary of State, a position which he continued to hold until
+towards the downfall of the Commonwealth. But after the Restoration he
+quietly withdrew into retirement, resolved to devote the remainder of
+his life to the writing of the great poem which he had been
+contemplating for many years. Through unceasing study he had lost his
+sight; the friends of his youth had deserted him; the fortune which he
+had received from his father was gone. And so it was in darkness, and
+disappointment, and poverty, that in 1667 he gave to the world the great
+English epic, "Paradise Lost." It was in that same year that Dryden
+published his "Annus Mirabilis." Milton shortly afterward wrote
+"Paradise Regained"; and, in 1671, he produced "Samson Agonistes," a
+tragedy modelled after the masterpieces of the Greek drama. On the 8th
+of November, 1674, at the age of sixty-six years, his strangely eventful
+life came to a close.
+
+
+WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.
+
+     Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
+     England hath need of thee; she is a fen
+     Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,
+     Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
+     Have forfeited their ancient English dower
+     Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
+     Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
+     And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
+     Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;
+     Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
+     Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
+     So didst thou travel on life's common way,
+     In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
+     The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas;
+selections from Paradise Lost.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Masson's _Life and Times of John Milton_; _Milton_
+(Classical Writers), by Stopford Brooke; _Milton_ (English Men of
+Letters), by Mark Pattison; Macaulay's Essay on _Milton_; De Quincey,
+_Milton vs. Southey and Landor_; Coleridge's _Literary Remains_;
+Johnson's _Lives of the Poets_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+Robert Herrick.
+
+
+
+
+TO PHILLIS.
+
+
+     Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
+     The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:
+     What sweets the country can afford
+     Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.
+     The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,
+     With crawling woodbine over-spread:
+     By which the silver-shedding streams
+     Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
+     Thy clothing next, shall be a gown
+     Made of the fleeces' purest down.
+     The tongue of kids shall be thy meat;
+     Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat
+     The paste of filberts for thy bread
+     With cream of cowslips butterèd:
+     Thy feasting-table shall be hills
+     With daisies spread, and daffadils;
+     Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,
+     For meat, shall give thee melody.
+     I'll give thee chains and carcanets
+     Of primroses and violets.
+     A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
+     That richly wrought, and this as brave;
+     So that as either shall express
+     The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
+     At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,
+     When Themilis his pastime makes,
+     There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
+     Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.
+     On holydays, when virgins meet
+     To dance the heys with nimble feet,
+     Thou shalt come forth, and then appear
+     The Queen of Roses for that year.
+     And having danced ('bove all the best)
+     Carry the garland from the rest.
+     In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
+     To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
+     The blushing apple, bashful pear,
+     And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.
+     Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find
+     The name of Phillis in the rind
+     Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;
+     Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.
+     To thee a sheep-hook I will send,
+     Be-prank'd with ribbons, to this end,
+     This, this alluring hook might be
+     Less for to catch a sheep, than me.
+     Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
+     Not made of ale, but spicèd wine;
+     To make thy maids and self free mirth,
+     All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.
+     Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
+     Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings
+     Of winning colors that shall move
+     Others to lust, but me to love.
+     --These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,
+     If thou wilt love, and live with me.
+
+
+
+
+THE MAD MAID'S SONG.
+
+
+     Good morrow to the day so fair;
+       Good morning, sir, to you;
+     Good morrow to mine own torn hair,
+       Bedabbled with the dew.
+
+     Good morning to this primrose too;
+       Good morrow to each maid;
+     That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
+       Wherein my Love is laid.
+
+     Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,
+       Alack and well-a-day!
+     For pity, sir, find out that bee,
+       Which bore my Love away.
+
+     I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;
+       I'll seek him in your eyes;
+     Nay, now I think they've made his grave
+       I' th' bed of strawberries.
+
+     I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,
+       The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
+     But I will go, or send a kiss
+       By you, sir, to awake him.
+
+     Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
+       He knows well who do love him;
+     And who with green turfs rear his head,
+       And who do rudely move him.
+
+     He's soft and tender, pray take heed,
+       With bands of cowslips bind him,
+     And bring him home;--but 'tis decreed
+       That I shall never find him.
+
+
+
+
+A THANKSGIVING TO GOD.
+
+
+     Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
+               Wherein to dwell;
+     A little house, whose humble roof
+               Is weather proof;
+     Under the spars of which I lie
+               Both soft and dry;
+     Where thou, my chamber for to ward,
+               Hast set a guard
+     Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
+               Me, while I sleep.
+     Low is my porch, as is my fate;
+               Both void of state;
+     And yet the threshold of my door
+               Is worn by th' poor,
+     Who thither come, and freely get
+               Good words, or meat.
+     Like as my parlor, so my hall
+               And kitchen's small;
+     A little buttery, and therein
+               A little bin,
+     Which keeps my little loaf of bread
+               Unchipt, unflead;
+     Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
+               Make me a fire,
+     Close by whose living coal I sit,
+               And glow like it.
+     Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
+               The pulse is thine,
+     And all those other bits that be
+               There placed by thee;
+     The worts, the purslain, and the mess
+               Of water-cress,
+     Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;
+               And my content
+     Makes those, and my belovèd beet,
+               To be more sweet.
+     'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
+               With guiltless mirth,
+     And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,
+               Spiced to the brink.
+     Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
+               That soils my land,
+     And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
+               Twice ten for one;
+     Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
+               Her egg each day;
+     Besides, my healthful ewes to bear
+               Me twins each year;
+     The while the conduits of my kine
+               Run cream, for wine:
+     All these, and better, thou dost send
+               Me, to this end,--
+     That I should render, for my part,
+               A thankful heart;
+     Which, fired with incense, I resign,
+               As wholly thine;
+     --But the acceptance, that must be,
+               My Christ, by Thee.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+ROBERT HERRICK was born in Cheapside, London, August 20, 1591. He was
+educated at Cambridge, and in 1629, having taken orders, was presented
+to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire. From this living he was
+ejected by the Long Parliament in 1648, and, going up to London, he
+united himself with some of his former associates and entered upon a
+career not altogether creditable to his profession of parson. At the
+restoration of Charles II. he was returned to his vicarage, where he
+remained until his death in 1674. His best poems are included in the
+collection entitled "Hesperides, or Works Humane and Divine," published
+in 1648, and dedicated to "the most illustrious and most hopeful Prince
+Charles." The "Argument" prefixed to this collection very prettily
+describes the character of the pieces which it contains:
+
+     "I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
+      Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;
+      I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
+      Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.
+      I write of Youth, of Love;--and have access
+      By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;
+      I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,
+      Of balm, of oil, of spice, of ambergris.
+      I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write
+      How roses first came red, and lilies white.
+      I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
+      The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King;
+      I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall
+      Of Heaven,--and hope to have it after all."
+
+"Herrick's best things," says Robert Buchanan, "are his poems in praise
+of the country life, and his worst things are his epigrams. His
+gladsome, mercurial temper had a great deal to do with the composition
+of his best lyrics; for the parson of Dean Prior was no philosopher, and
+his lightest, airiest verses are the best. His was a happy, careless
+nature, throwing off verses out of the fulness of a joyous heart,
+rioting in a pleasant, sunny element."
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Waller.
+
+
+
+
+SONG.
+
+
+     Go, lovely Rose,
+     Tell her that wastes her time and me,
+     That now she knows
+     When I resemble her to thee
+     How sweet and fair she seems to be.
+
+     Tell her that's young,
+     And shuns to have her graces spied,
+     That had'st thou sprung
+     In deserts where no men abide,
+     Thou must have uncommended died.
+
+     Small is the worth
+     Of beauty from the light retired;
+     Bid her come forth,
+     Suffer herself to be desired,
+     And not blush so to be admired.
+
+     Then die, that she
+     The common fate of all things rare
+     May read in thee,
+     How small a part of time they share
+     Who are so wondrous sweet and fair.
+
+
+
+
+OF ENGLISH VERSE.
+
+
+     Poets may boast, as safely vain,
+     Their works shall with the world remain:
+     Both bound together, live or die,
+     The verses and the prophecy.
+
+     But who can hope his line should long
+     Last, in a daily-changing tongue?
+     While they are new, envy prevails;
+     And as that dies our language fails.
+
+     When architects have done their part,
+     The matter may betray their art:
+     Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,
+     Soon brings a well-built palace down.
+
+     Poets, that lasting marble seek,
+     Must carve in Latin or in Greek:
+     We write in sand, our language grows,
+     And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.
+
+     Chaucer his sense can only boast,
+     The glory of his numbers lost!
+     Years have defac't his matchless strain,
+     And yet he did not sing in vain.
+
+     The beauties which adorn'd that age,
+     The shining subjects of his rage,
+     Hoping they should immortal prove,
+     Rewarded with success his love.
+
+     This was the gen'rous poet's scope,
+     And all an English pen can hope;
+     To make the fair approve his flame,
+     That can so far extend their fame.
+
+     Verse thus design'd has no ill fate,
+     If it arrive but at the date
+     Of fading beauty, if it prove
+     But as long-liv'd as present love.
+
+
+
+
+ON A GIRDLE.
+
+
+     That which her slender waist confin'd
+     Shall now my joyful temples bind;
+     No monarch but would give his crown
+     His arms might do what this has done.
+
+     It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
+     The pale which held that lovely deer:
+     My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
+     Did all within this circle move!
+
+     A narrow compass! and yet there
+     Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:
+     Give me but what this riband bound,
+     Take all the rest the sun goes round.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND WALLER, whose poetry is noticeable because he was the first
+English versifier to adopt the French fashion of writing in couplets,
+was born in Warwickshire in 1605. He was elected to Parliament at the
+age of seventeen, and was a member of that body during the greater part
+of his life. At the beginning of the difficulties between the king and
+the Parliament, he gained some notoriety by his opposition to the
+former, but when the Civil War broke out he attached himself to the
+Royalist cause. In 1643, being convicted of complicity in a plot against
+Parliament, he was fined £10,000 and imprisoned for twelve months. After
+his release he went to France; but in 1653 he returned to England and
+became reconciled to the new government, writing, soon afterward, "A
+Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the present Greatness and joint
+Interest of his Highness and this Nation." At the Restoration he eagerly
+declared allegiance to Charles II., and wrote a congratulatory ode on
+that monarch's return. He became a court favorite, noted for his wit,
+was made provost of Eton, and returned to his old place in Parliament.
+He died October 21, 1687. The first edition of his poems was published
+in 1645, and from that time to the close of the seventeenth century he
+was quite generally regarded as the greatest of English poets. At the
+present time there are few writers so little considered as he.
+
+Waller may be regarded as the founder of the classical school of English
+poetry, in which Dryden and Pope excelled, and which remained in the
+ascendency for more than a century after his death. "The excellence and
+dignity of rhyme," says Dryden, "were never fully known till Mr. Waller
+taught it; he first made writing easily an art, first showed us to
+conclude the sense, most commonly, in distichs, which in the verse of
+those before him runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is
+out of breath to overtake it."
+
+And Dr. Johnson says: "He certainly very much excelled in smoothness
+most of the writers who were living when his poetry commenced. But he
+was rather smooth than strong: of the 'full resounding line' which Pope
+attributes to Dryden, he has given very few examples. The general
+character of his poetry is elegance and gaiety. He seems neither to have
+had a mind much elevated by nature, nor amplified by learning. His
+thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
+life would easily supply."
+
+
+
+
+Ben Jonson.
+
+
+
+
+AN ODE TO HIMSELF.
+
+
+     Where dost Thou careless lie
+         Buried in ease and sloth?
+     Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;
+     And this security,
+         It is the common moth
+     That eats on wits and arts, and [so] destroys them both.
+
+     Are all the Aonian{1} springs
+         Dried up? lies Thespia waste?
+     Doth Clarius'{2} harp want strings,
+     That not a nymph now sings;
+         Or droop they as disgrac'd,
+     To see their seats and bowers by chattering pies{3} defac'd?
+
+     If hence{4} thy silence be,
+         As 'tis too just a cause,
+     Let this thought quicken thee:
+     Minds that are great and free
+         Should not on fortune pause;
+     'Tis crown enough to virtue{5} still, her own applause.
+
+     What though the greedy fry
+         Be taken with false baits
+     Of worded balladry,
+     And think it poesy?
+         They die with their conceits,
+     And only piteous scorn upon their folly waits.
+
+     Then take in hand thy lyre;
+         Strike in thy proper strain;
+     With Japhet's line,{6} aspire
+     Sol's chariot for new fire,
+         To give the world again:
+     Who aided him, will thee, the issue of Jove's brain.{7}
+
+     And, since our dainty age
+         Cannot endure reproof,
+     Make not thyself a page
+     To that strumpet the stage;
+         But sing high and aloof,
+     Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.{8}
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem is found in the collection of miscellaneous pieces, by Ben
+Jonson, entitled "Underwoods." The poet reproaches himself for his own
+indolence.
+
+1. =Aonian springs.= The fountain Aganippe, situated in Aonia, was much
+frequented by the Muses, who were therefore sometimes called "Aonides."
+They were also called _Thespiades_, because Mount Helicon, one of their
+favored resorts, was in the vicinity of Thespia, and was itself named
+"Thespia rupes."
+
+2. =Clarius.= The name applied to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at
+Clarus, on the Ionian coast.
+
+3. =pies.= Magpies, "who make sound without sense."
+
+4. =hence.= For this reason.
+
+5. =virtue . . . her own applause.= Compare:
+
+     "Virtue is her own reward."--_Dryden_, _Tyrannic Love_.
+
+     "Virtue, a reward to itself."--_Walton_, _Compleat Angler_.
+
+     "Virtue is its own reward."--_Prior_, _Imitations of Horace_.
+
+6. =Japhet's line.= The line of Iapetus, the father of Prometheus, who
+stole fire from the chariot of the sun.
+
+7. =issue of Jove's brain.= Athene, or Minerva.
+
+8. "Safe from the slanderer and the fool."
+
+
+
+
+TO CYNTHIA.
+
+
+     Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
+       Now the sun is laid to sleep;
+     Seated in thy silver chair,
+       State in wonted manner keep;
+     Hesperus entreats thy light,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Earth, let not thy envious shade
+       Dare itself to interpose;
+     Cynthia's shining orb was made
+       Heaven to clear, when day did close;
+     Bless us then with wished sight,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+     Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
+       And thy crystal-shining quiver;
+     Give unto the flying heart
+       Space to breathe, how short soever;
+     Thou that mak'st a day of night,
+     Goddess excellently bright.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE
+HATH LEFT US.
+
+
+     To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
+     Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;{1}
+     While I confess thy writings to be such,
+     As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
+     'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
+     Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
+     For seeliest{2} ignorance on these may light,
+     Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
+     Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
+     The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
+     Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
+     And think to ruin where it seemed to praise.
+     But thou art proof against them and, indeed,
+     Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.
+     I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!
+     The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
+     My SHAKESPEARE rise! I will not lodge thee by
+     Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
+     A little further, to make thee a room:{3}
+     Thou art a monument without a tomb,
+     And art alive still while thy book doth live,
+     And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
+     That I not mix thee so my brain excuses,--
+     I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
+     For if I thought my judgment were of years,
+     I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
+     And tell how far thou didst our Lyly{4} outshine,
+     Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.
+     And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
+     From thence to honor thee I would not seek
+     For names, but call forth thund'ring Æschylus,{5}
+     Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
+     Pacuvius, Accius,{6} him of Cordova dead,
+     To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,
+     And shake a stage; or when thy socks{7} were on,
+     Leave thee alone for a comparison
+     Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome
+     Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
+     Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,
+     To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
+     He was not of an age, but for all time!
+     And all the Muses still were in their prime,
+     When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
+     Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
+     Nature herself was proud of his designs,
+     And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,
+     Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
+     As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
+     The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
+     Neat Terence, witty Plautus,{8} now not please;
+     But antiquated and deserted lie,
+     As they were not of Nature's family.
+     Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art,
+     My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
+     For though the poet's matter nature be,
+     His art doth give the fashion; and that he{9}
+     Who casts to write a living line, must sweat
+     (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
+     Upon the Muses' anvil, turn the same,
+     And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
+     Or for the laurel he may gain to scorn;
+     For a good poet's made, as well as born.
+     And such wert thou! Look, how the father's face
+     Lives in his issue, even so the race
+     Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines
+     In his well-turnèd and true filèd lines,
+     In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
+     As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
+     Sweet Swan of Avon!{10} what a sight it were
+     To see thee in our waters yet appear,
+     And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
+     That so did take Eliza and our James!
+     But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere{11}
+     Advanced, and made a constellation there!
+     Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage
+     Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage,
+     Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,
+     And despairs day but for thy volume's light.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was prefixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, 1623,
+and is also printed in Ben Jonson's "Underwoods."
+
+1. The meaning of these two lines would seem to be: "To show that I am
+not envious, Shakespeare, of thy name, I thus write fully of thy works
+and fame."
+
+2. =seeliest.= Silliest, simplest. From A.-S. _saelig_, foolish. See note
+23, page 190.
+
+3. In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakespeare, beginning:
+
+     "Renownèd Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
+      To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lie
+      A little nearer Spenser, to make room
+      For Shakespear in your threefold, fourfold tomb."
+
+4. =Lyly, Kyd, Marlowe.= Contemporaries of Shakespeare. See Biographical
+Dictionary.
+
+5. =Æschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles.= The founders of the Greek
+tragical drama.
+
+6. =Pacuvius, Accius.= Celebrated Roman tragic poets.
+
+=him of Cordova.= Seneca, the great rhetorician, was born at Cordova, in
+Spain, B.C. 61.
+
+7. =socks were on.= The socks indicated comedy, and the buskins tragedy.
+Compare Milton's "L'Allegro," 131:
+
+     "Then to the well-trod stage anon,
+      If Jonson's learned sock be on,
+      Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
+      Warble his native wood-note wild."
+
+Also, "Il Penseroso," 97. See note on _buskin_, page 139.
+
+8. =Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus.= Ancient writers of comedy.
+
+9. =that he.= That man.
+
+10. =Swan of Avon.= So Cowper calls Virgil "the Mantuan swan."
+
+11. =hemisphere.= The celestial hemisphere.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+BEN JONSON was born in Westminster, in 1573. His early life was full of
+hard and varied experiences. He was educated at Westminster School, and
+entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Being obliged to leave his
+university course unfinished, he worked for a time with his step-father
+as a brick-layer. At the age of eighteen he enlisted as a volunteer in
+the Low Countries; but in 1596 he settled in London, as a playwright.
+His first comedy, "Every Man in his Humour," did not meet with immediate
+success. It was remodelled, at Shakespeare's suggestion, and when
+afterwards presented was received with marked favor. His first tragedy,
+"Sejanus," was acted in 1603. His masques, of which there are
+thirty-six, were written during the reign of James I. His miscellaneous
+works, embracing a variety of odes, elegies, epigrams, and other lyrics
+and epistles, are included in two collections, the first of which,
+called _The Forest_, was published in 1616, and the second posthumously,
+in 1641. He died in London, August 6, 1637.
+
+One of the last and most beautiful of Jonson's dramas is the unfinished
+pastoral comedy, "The Sad Shepherd." It was written while in the
+sick-chamber, with a keen sense and remembrance of the disappointments
+which had followed him through life; and to these he touchingly refers
+in the prologue:
+
+     "He that hath feasted you these forty years,
+      And fitted fables for your finer ears,
+      Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;
+      Yet you, with patience, hearkening more and more,
+      At length have grown up to him, and made known
+      The working of his pen is now your own:
+      He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,
+      To hear him this once more, but sit awake.
+      And though he now present you with such wool
+      As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,
+      He hopes when it is made up into cloth,
+      Not the most curious head here will be loth
+      To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,
+      To match or those of Sicily or Greece.
+      His scene is Sherwood, and his play a tale
+      Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale
+      Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast;
+      Where, by the casual absence of one guest,
+      The mirth is troubled much, and in one man
+      As much of sadness shown as passion can."
+
+Robert Herrick wrote of him thus:
+
+                 "Ah Ben!
+               Say how or when
+               Shall we, thy guests,
+           Meet at those lyric feasts,
+               Made at the Sun,
+           The Dog, the Triple Tun;
+           Where we such clusters had,
+         As made us nobly wild, not mad?
+           And yet each verse of thine
+     Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.
+
+                 "My Ben!
+               Or come again,
+               Or send to us
+           Thy wit's great overplus;
+               But teach us yet
+           Wisely to husband it,
+           Lest we that talent spend;
+         And having once brought to an end
+           That precious stock,--the store
+     Of such a wit the world should have no more."
+
+
+
+
+The Sixteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In fifty-two years, without counting the drama, two hundred and
+thirty-three poets are enumerated, of whom forty have genius or
+talent. . . . What is this condition which gives rise to so universal a
+taste for poetry? What is it breathes life into their books? How happens
+it, that amongst the least, in spite of pedantrie, awkwardnesses, we
+meet with brilliant pictures and genuine love-cries? How happens it,
+that when this generation was exhausted, true poetry ended in England,
+as true painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the
+mind came and passed away,--that, namely, of instinctive and creative
+conception. These men had new senses, and no theories in their
+heads. . . . They are happy in contemplating beautiful things, and wish
+only that they should be the most beautiful possible. They do not excite
+themselves to express moral or philosophical ideas. They wish to enjoy
+through the imagination, through the eyes, like those Italian nobles,
+who, at the same time, were so captivated by fine colors and forms, that
+they covered with paintings not only their rooms and their churches, but
+the lids of their chests and the saddles of their horses. . . . Think
+what poetry was likely to spring from them, how superior to common
+events, how free from literal imitation, how smitten with ideal beauty,
+how capable of creating a world beyond our sad world._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Sixteenth Century.
+
+=Sir Thomas Wyatt= (1503-1542). See biographical note, page 252.
+
+=Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey= (1517-1547). See biographical note, page
+252.
+
+=George Gascoigne= (1536-1577). "The Steel Glass"; "The Tragedy of
+Iocaste."
+
+=Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst= (1536-1608). "The Induction to the
+Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc."
+
+=Edmund Spenser= (1552-1598). See biographical note, page 245.
+
+=Sir Philip Sidney= (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short
+poems.
+
+=Thomas Watson= (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of
+Love"; "Meliboeus"; "The Tears of Fancie."
+
+=John Lyly= (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's
+Metamorphosis."
+
+=Robert Greene= (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Christopher Marlowe= (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=Thomas Lodge= (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.
+
+=William Warner= (1550-1609). "Albion's England"; "Pan, his Syrinx or
+Pipe."
+
+=William Shakespeare= (1564-1616). See note, page 221.
+
+=Samuel Daniel= (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the two
+Houses of York and Lancaster."
+
+=Sir Walter Raleigh= (1552-1618). Short poems.
+
+=George Chapman= (1559-1634). Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and "Homer's
+Odyssey."
+
+=Michael Drayton= (1563-1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars"; "The
+Battle of Agincourt."
+
+=Joseph Hall= (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.
+
+=Sir John Davies= (    -1626). "Nosce Teipsum."
+
+=John Donne= (1573-1631). Short poems.
+
+
+
+
+William Shakespeare.
+
+
+
+
+VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.
+
+[FROM "VENUS AND ADONIS."]
+
+
+     "Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,
+     But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
+     O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is
+     With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
+       Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
+       Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.
+
+     "On his bow-back he hath a battle set
+     Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
+     His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
+     His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
+       Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
+       And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.
+
+     "His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
+     Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
+     His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
+     Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
+       The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
+       As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.
+
+     "Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
+     To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
+     Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
+     Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
+       But having thee at vantage,--wondrous dread!
+       Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.
+
+     "O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
+     Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
+     Come not within his danger by thy will;
+     They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
+       When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
+       I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.
+
+     "But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;
+     Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
+     Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,
+     Or at the roe which no encounter dare:
+       Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
+       And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.
+
+     "And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
+     Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
+     How he outruns the wind and with what care
+     He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
+       The many musets through the which he goes
+       Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
+
+     "Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
+     To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
+     And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
+     To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,
+       And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:
+       Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:
+
+     "For there his smell with others being mingled,
+     The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
+     Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
+     With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
+       Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
+       As if another chase were in the skies.
+
+     "By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
+     Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
+     To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
+     Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
+       And now his grief may be compared well
+       To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.
+
+     "Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
+     Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
+     Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,
+     Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
+       For misery is trodden on by many,
+       And being low never relieved by any."
+
+
+
+
+A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.
+
+[FROM "CYMBELINE."]
+
+
+     Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
+       And Phoebus 'gins arise,
+     His steeds to water at those springs
+       On chaliced flowers that lies;
+     And winking Mary-buds begin
+       To ope their golden eyes:
+     With everything that pretty is,
+       My lady sweet, arise:
+         Arise, arise.
+
+
+
+
+SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.
+
+[FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]
+
+
+     Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
+       Men were deceivers ever,
+     One foot in sea and one on shore,
+       To one thing constant never:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+     Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,
+       Of dumps so dull and heavy;
+     The fraud of men was ever so,
+       Since summer first was leafy:
+     Then sigh not so, but let them go,
+       And be you blithe and bonny,
+     Converting all your sounds of woe
+       Into Hey nonny, nonny.
+
+
+
+
+SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.
+
+[SONNET XXXIII.]
+
+
+     Full many a glorious morning have I seen
+       Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
+     Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
+       Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
+     Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
+       With ugly rack on his celestial face,
+     And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
+       Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
+     Even so my sun one early morn did shine
+       With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;
+     But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
+       The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
+     Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
+     Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.
+
+
+
+
+THE WORLD'S WAY.
+
+[SONNET LXVI.]
+
+
+     Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,--
+       As, to behold desert a beggar born,
+     And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
+       And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
+     And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,
+       And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
+     And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
+       And strength by limping sway disabled,
+     And art made tongue-tied by authority,
+       And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
+     And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
+       And captive Good attending captain Ill:
+     Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,--
+     Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and
+died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic
+compositions. His two narrative poems, "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape
+of Lucrece," were published in 1593 and 1594, before any of his plays
+had been printed. They may be regarded as companion pieces, written in
+the same style and distinguished by similar characteristics.
+
+"A couple of ice-houses," says Dowden, "these two poems of Shakespeare
+have been called by Hazlitt; 'they are,' he says, 'as hard, as
+glittering, as cold.' Cold indeed they will seem to any one who listens
+to hear in them the natural cry of human passion. But the paradox is
+true, that for a young poet of Elizabeth's age to be natural, direct,
+simple, would have been indeed unnatural. He was most happy when most
+fantastical; he spun a shining web to catch conceits inevitably as a
+spider casts his thread; the quick-building wit was itself warm while
+erecting its ice-houses." Coleridge says of the "Venus and Adonis" that
+its most obvious excellence "is the perfect sweetness of the
+versification; its adaptation to the subject; and the power displayed in
+varying the march of the words without passing into a loftier and more
+majestic rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the
+propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant."
+
+Shakespeare's "Sonnets" were published in 1609. Concerning the origin,
+purpose, and interpretation of these poems, many widely different
+theories have been proposed, "Some have looked on them as one poem."
+says Fleay; "some as several poems--of groups of sonnets; some as
+containing a separate poem in each sonnet. They have been supposed to be
+written in Shakespeare's own person, or in the character of another, or
+of several others; to be autobiographical or heterobiographical or
+allegorical; to have been addressed to Lord Southampton, to Sir William
+Herbert, to his own wife, to Lady Rich, to his child, to himself, to his
+Muse." The safest and wisest course seems to be, first to regard each of
+the one hundred and fifty-four sonnets as a poem complete in itself, and
+after studying whatever it may contain of art, or beauty, or truth, then
+to discover, if possible, its relationship to those which precede or
+follow it in the series.
+
+Of the other poems written by Shakespeare, mention should be made of
+"The Passionate Pilgrim" (1559), "The Phoenix and the Turtle" (1601), "A
+Lover's Complaint," published in the same volume with the "Sonnets," and
+the few exquisite little songs scattered through his plays.
+
+
+
+
+Edmund Spenser.
+
+
+
+
+THE CAVE OF MAMMON.
+
+     Guyon findes Mammon in a delve{1}
+       Sunning his threasure hore{2};
+     Is by him tempted, and led downe
+       To see his secrete store.
+
+
+       As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,
+     That to a stedfast starre{3} his course hath bent,
+     When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have
+     The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,{4}
+     And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,{5}
+     Upon his card and compas firmes{6} his eye,
+     The maysters of his long experiment,
+     And to them does the steddy helme apply,
+     Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:
+
+       So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,
+     Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes
+     Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;
+     And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes
+     Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.
+     So, long he yode,{7} yet no adventure found,
+     Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes{8};
+     For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,
+     That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.
+
+       At last he came unto a gloomy glade,
+     Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,
+     Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
+     An uncouth, salvage,{9} and uncivile wight,
+     Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;
+     His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,
+     His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,{10}
+     His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard
+     In smythes fire-spitting{11} forge, and nayles like clawes appear.
+
+       His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
+     Was underneath enveloped with gold;
+     Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
+     Well yet appeared to have beene of old
+     A worke of rich entayle{12} and curious mould,
+     Woven with antickes{13} and wyld ymagery;
+     And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
+     And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
+     And covetous desire with his huge threasury.
+
+       And round about him lay on every side
+     Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;
+     Of which some were rude owre, not purifide
+     Of Mulcibers{14} devouring element;
+     Some others were new driven, and distent
+     Into great Ingowes and to wedges square;
+     Some in round plates withouten moniment{15};
+     But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
+     The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.
+
+       Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright
+     And haste he rose for to remove aside
+     Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,
+     And downe them poured through an hole full wide
+     Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.
+     But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd
+     His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;
+     And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,
+     Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:
+
+       "What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)
+     That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,
+     And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart
+     From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"
+     Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,
+     In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,
+     That darest view my direfull countenaunce,
+     I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,
+     To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.
+
+       "God of the world and worldlings I me call,
+     Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,
+     That of my plenty poure out unto all,
+     And unto none my graces do envye:
+     Riches, renowme, and principality,
+     Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,
+     For which men swinck{16} and sweat incessantly,
+     Fro me do flow into an ample flood,
+     And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.
+
+       "Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,{17}
+     At thy commaund lo! all these mountaines bee:
+     Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,
+     All these may not suffise, there shall to thee
+     Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."
+     "Mammon," (said he) "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,
+     And idle offers of thy golden fee;
+     To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine
+     Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.
+
+       "Me ill besits,{18} that in derdoing, armes
+     And honours suit my vowd daies do spend,
+     Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,
+     With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;
+     Regard of worldly mucke{19} doth fowly blend,
+     And low abase the high heroicke spright,{20}
+     That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend:
+     Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight;
+     Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."
+
+       "Vaine glorious Elfe," (saide he) "doest not thou weet,{21}
+     That money can thy wantes at will supply?
+     Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet,
+     It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;
+     And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.
+     Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne
+     Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,
+     And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,
+     And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?"
+
+       "All otherwise" (saide he) "I riches read,
+     And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;
+     First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,
+     And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,
+     Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse:
+     Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,
+     Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,
+     Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize,
+     That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize.
+
+       "Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;
+     But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,
+     And loyall truth to treason doest incline:
+     Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,
+     The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround;
+     The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,
+     And purple robe gored with many a wound,
+     Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent;
+     So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.
+
+       "Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse
+     The private state, and make the life unsweet:
+     Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,
+     And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,
+     Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet."
+     Then Mammon wexing wroth: "And why then," sayd,
+     "Are mortall men so fond{22} and undiscreet
+     So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,
+     And having not complaine, and having it upbrayd?"
+
+       "Indeede," (quoth he) "through fowle intemperaunce
+     Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise;
+     But would they thinke with how small allowaunce
+     Untroubled Nature doth herselfe suffise,
+     Such superfluities they would despise,
+     Which with sad cares empeach{23} our native joyes.
+     At the well-head the purest streames arise;
+     But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,
+     And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.{24}
+
+       "The antique world, in his first flowring youth,
+     Fownd no defect in his Creators grace;
+     But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,{25}
+     The gifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:
+     Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;
+     But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,
+     Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace
+     To all licentious lust, and gan exceed
+     The measure of her meane and naturall first need.
+
+       "Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe
+     Of his great Grandmother{26} with steele to wound,
+     And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe
+     With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd
+     Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,
+     Of which the matter of his huge desire
+     And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;
+     Then avarice gan through his veines inspire
+     His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."
+
+       "Sonne," (said he then) "lett be{27} thy bitter scorne,
+     And leave the rudenesse of that antique age
+     To them that liv'd therein, in state forlorne:
+     Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage{28}
+     Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.
+     If then thee list my offred grace to use,
+     Take what thou please of all this surplusage;
+     If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:
+     But refused doe not afterward accuse."
+
+       "Me list{29} not" (said the Elfin knight) "receave
+     Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;
+     Ne wote but thou didst these goods bereave
+     From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,
+     Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott."
+     "Perdy,"{30} (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew,
+     Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;
+     But safe I have them kept in secret mew
+     From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.
+
+       "What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold
+     So huge a masse, and hide from heaven's eie?
+     Or where hast thou thy wonne,{31} that so much gold
+     Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"
+     "Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by
+     Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd
+     A darkesome way, which no man could descry,
+     That deep descended through the hollow grownd,
+     And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.
+
+       At length they came into a larger space,
+     That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne;
+     Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,
+     That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne.{32}
+     By that wayes side there sate internall Payne,
+     And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:
+     The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,
+     The other brandished a bloody knife;
+     And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.
+
+       On thother side in one consort there sate
+     Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,
+     Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;
+     But gnawing Gealousy, out of their sight
+     Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;
+     And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,
+     And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:
+     Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye,
+     And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.
+
+       And over them sad Horror with grim hew
+     Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;
+     And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew,
+     The hatefull messengers of heavy things,
+     Of death and dolor telling sad tidings,
+     Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,
+     A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,
+     That hart of flint asonder could have rifte;
+     Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.
+
+       All these before the gates of Pluto lay,
+     By whom they passing spake unto them nought;
+     But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way
+     Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.
+     At last him to a little dore he brought,
+     That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,
+     Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:
+     Betwixt them both was but a little stride,
+     That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.
+
+       Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,
+     Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,
+     For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware
+     Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:
+     Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward
+     Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;
+     For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;{33}
+     Therefore his house is unto his annext:
+     Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext.
+
+       So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore
+     To him did open and affoorded way:
+     Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,
+     Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay.
+     Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way
+     Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept
+     An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,
+     The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,
+     And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.
+
+       Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,
+     If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,
+     Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,
+     Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye,
+     Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye
+     He over him did hold his cruell clawes,
+     Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,
+     And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,
+     If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes.
+
+       That houses forme within was rude and strong,
+     Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,
+     From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong
+     Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte,
+     And with rich metall loaded every rifte,
+     That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;
+     And over them Arachne high did lifte
+     Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,
+     Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett.
+
+       Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,
+     But overgrowne with dust and old decay,
+     And hid in darkenes, that none could behold
+     The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day
+     Did never in that house it selfe display,
+     But a faint shadow of uncertain light:
+     Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away,
+     Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night,
+     Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.
+
+       In all that rowme was nothing to be seene
+     But huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,
+     All bard with double bends, that none could weene
+     Them to efforce by violence or wrong:
+     On every side they placed were along;
+     But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,
+     And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;
+     Whose lives, it seemed, whilome{34} there were shed,
+     And their vile carcases now left unburied.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This is a selection from Spenser's great poem, "The Faerie Queene,"
+being a part of the seventh canto of book second. "The Faerie Queene"
+was published in 1590, and comprises six books of twelve cantos each.
+The first book is the Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the
+second, of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, or
+Chastity; the fourth, of Cambel and Triamond, or Friendship; the fifth,
+of Artegall, or Justice; the sixth, of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. It was
+Spenser's design that the complete work should contain twelve books, but
+of the remaining part only a fragment of one book, the "Legend of
+Constance," is in existence.
+
+The versification of the "Faerie Queene" is based upon the _ottava
+rima_, made so popular in Italian poetry by Tasso and Ariosto. Instead
+of eight lines to a stanza, however, there are nine. The first eight
+lines are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter, the stanza thus
+closing with a lingering cadence which adds greatly to the melody of the
+verse. This is the "Spenserian stanza," a form of versification very
+popular with many of our later poets.
+
+"If you love poetry well enough to enjoy it for its own sake," says
+Leigh Hunt, "let no evil reports of his _allegory_ deter you from an
+acquaintance with Spenser, for great will be your loss. His allegory
+itself is but one part allegory and nine parts beauty and enjoyment;
+sometimes an excess of flesh and blood. His wholesale poetical belief,
+mixing up all creeds and mythologies, but with less violence, resembles
+that of Dante and Boccaccio. His versification is almost perpetual
+honey."
+
+1. =delve.= Dell. From A.-S. _delfan_, delve, to dig. Each canto of the
+"Faerie Queene" is introduced by a four-line doggerel like this,
+containing the argument, or a brief summary of the narrative,--in
+imitation, probably, of Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso."
+
+2. =hore.= Sordid, miserly. Probably from A.-S. _harian_, to become mouldy
+or musty. The word _hoard_ may be traced to a similar root.
+
+3. =stedfast starre.= The pole-star. See "Faerie Queene," I, ii, 1:
+
+     "By this the northerne wagoner had set
+      His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre
+      That was in ocean waves yet never wet,
+      But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
+      To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre."
+
+4. =yblent.= Blinded.
+
+5. =dreriment.= Darkness.
+
+6. =firmes.= Fixes, makes firm.
+
+7. =yode.= Went. The past participle of the old verb _yede_, from A.-S.
+_gangead_, to go, to proceed.
+
+8. =reedes.= Considers. From A.-S. _ræd_, counsel, advice; O. E. _rede_.
+
+9. =salvage.= Savage, wild. Fr. _sauvage_. From Lat. _silva_, forest. See
+"Faerie Queene," IV, v, 19:
+
+     "For all his armour was like salvage weed
+      With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed
+      With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit
+      For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed
+      His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,
+      _Salvagesse sans finesse_,[233:1] shewing secret wit."
+
+=wight.= Person. From A.-S. _wiht_.
+
+     "For every wight that loved chevalrie."
+                           --_Chaucer_, _Canterbury Tales_, 2105.
+
+=griesly.= Dreadful. From A.-S. _grislic_; _agrisan_, to dread. Grisly.
+
+10. =bedight.= Covered. From _dight_, to dress, to deck. A.-S. _dihtan_.
+
+11. =fire-spitting.= "_Spett_ seems anciently to have more simply
+signified _disperse_, without the low idea which we at present affix to
+it."--_Warton._
+
+12. =entayle.= Sculpture, carving. Compare _intaglio_.
+
+13. =antickes.= Odd, or fantastic, forms. From Lat, _antiquus_, ancient.
+
+14. =of Mulcibers devouring element.= By fire. Mulciber is a surname of
+Vulcan, "which seems to have been given him as an euphemism, that he
+might not consume the habitations and property of men, but kindly aid
+them in their pursuits."
+
+15. =withouten moniment.= Without superscription.
+
+16. =swinck.= Labor, drudge. A.-S. _swincan_, to toil.
+
+17. =sew.= Follow. From Fr. _suivre_.
+
+=deigne.= From Fr. _daigner_, to consider worthy. Opposed to _disdain_.
+
+18. =Me ill besits.= It ill becomes me.
+
+=derdoing.= Dare-doing; doing daring deeds.
+
+19. =worldly mucke.= "Filthy lucre."
+
+20. =spright.= Spirit.
+
+21. =weet.= Understand. From A.-S. _witan_, to know.
+
+22. =fond.= Foolish.
+
+23. =empeach.= Hinder. Fr. _empêcher_.
+
+24. =accloyes.= Chokes or clogs up. Observe how the poet carries out his
+metaphor of the "well-head," "the purest streames," "his braunching
+armes," and "the gentle wave."
+
+25. =unreproved truth.= Sincerity.
+
+26. =great Grandmother.= Mother Earth.
+
+27. =lett be.= Leave off; make an end of.
+
+28. =wage.= Pledge. Observe the relationship between this word and both
+_wager_ and _wages_.
+
+29. =Me list.= I wish. Compare _methinks_, _meseems_. From A.-S. _lystan_,
+to choose.
+
+     "The wind bloweth where it listeth."--_John_ iii. 8.
+
+=wote.= Understood. See note 21 above.
+
+30. =Perdy.= An old oath used to give emphasis to an assertion. From Fr.
+_par dieu_.
+
+31. =wonne.= Habitation. From A.-S. _wunian_, to dwell.
+
+32. =rayne.= Reign. The word is frequently used in the older poets for
+_realm_, or _region_.
+
+33. =next to Death is Sleepe.=
+
+     "How wonderful is Death!
+      Death and his brother Sleep!"
+                                     --_Shelley_, _Queen Mab_, I.
+
+34. =whilome.= At some time.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[233:1] Wildness without art.
+
+
+
+
+PROTHALAMION; OR, A SPOUSALL VERSE.
+
+IN HONOUR OF THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE OF THE TWO HONORABLE AND VERTUOUS
+LADIES, THE LADY ELIZABETH AND THE LADY KATHERINE SOMERSET, DAUGHTERS TO
+THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARLE OF WORCESTER, AND ESPOUSED TO THE TWO
+WORTHIE GENTLEMEN, M. HENRY GILFORD AND M. WILLIAM PETER, ESQUYERS.
+
+
+     Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre
+     Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play
+     A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
+     Hot Titans{1} beames, which then did glyster fayre;
+     When I, (whom sullein care,
+     Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
+     In princes court,{2} and expectation vayne
+     Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away
+     Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)
+     Walkt forth to ease my payne
+     Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes{3};
+     Whose rutty{4} bank, the which his river hemmes,
+     Was paynted all with variable flowers,
+     And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes
+     Fit to decke maydens bowres,
+     And crown their paramours
+     Against{5} the brydale-day, which is not long;
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,
+     A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,
+     All lovely daughters of the Flood{6} thereby,
+     With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,{7}
+     As each had been a bryde;
+     And each one had a little wicker basket,
+     Made of fine twigs, entrayled{8} curiously,
+     In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,{9}
+     And with fine fingers cropt{10} full feateously
+     The tender stalkes on hye.{11}
+     Of every sort which in that meadow grew,
+     They gathered some; the violet, pallid{12} blew,
+     The little dazie that at evening closes,
+     The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew,{13}
+     With store{14} of vermeil roses,
+     To deck their bridegroomes posies{15}
+     Against the brydale-day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     With that{16} I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
+     Come softly swimming downe along the lee{17};
+     Two fairer birds I yet did never see;
+     The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,
+     Did never whiter shew,
+     Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be
+     For love of Leda, whiter did appeare.
+     Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
+     Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near{18}:
+     So purely white they were,
+     That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
+     Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
+     To wet their silken feathers, least they might
+     Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,
+     And marre their beauties bright,
+     That shone as heavens light,
+     Against their brydale day which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Eftsoones{19} the Nymphes, which now had flowers their fill,
+     Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
+     As they came floating on the cristal flood;
+     Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still,
+     Their wondring eyes to fill;
+     Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,
+     Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme
+     Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
+     Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme;
+     For sure they did not seeme
+     To be begot of any earthly seede,
+     But rather angels, or of angels breede;
+     Yet were they bred of Somers-heat,{20} they say,
+     In sweetest season, when each flower and weede
+     The earth did fresh array;
+     So fresh they seem'd as day,
+     Even as their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.
+
+     Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
+     Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
+     That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild,
+     All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
+     And all the waves did strew,
+     That like old Peneus{21} waters they did seeme,
+     When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,
+     Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,
+     That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store,
+     Like a brydes chambre flore.
+     Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound
+     Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,
+     The which presenting all in trim array,
+     Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd
+     Whilst one did sing this lay,
+     Prepar'd against that day,
+     Against their brydale day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     "Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament
+     "And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower
+     "Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower,
+     "Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content
+     "Of your loves couplement;{22}
+     "And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love,
+     "With her heart-quelling Sonne{23} upon you smile,
+     "Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove
+     "All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile
+     "Forever to assoile.{24}
+     "Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord,
+     "And blessed plentie wait upon your bord{25};
+     "And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
+     "That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
+     "Which may your foes confound
+     "And make your ioyes redound
+     "Upon your brydale day, which is not long."
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     So ended she; and all the rest around
+     To her redoubled{26} that her undersong,
+     Which said, their brydale day should not be long:
+     And gentle Eccho from the neighbour{27} ground
+     Their accents did resound.
+     So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along
+     Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low,
+     As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,
+     Yet did by signes his glad affection show,
+     Making his streame run slow.
+     And all the foule which in his flood did dwell
+     Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell
+     The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend{28}
+     The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,
+     Did on those two attend,
+     And their best service lend
+     Against their wedding day, which was not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     At length they all to mery London came,
+     To mery London, my most kyndly nurse,{29}
+     That to me gave this lifes first native sourse,
+     Though from another place I take my name,
+     An house of auncient fame;
+     There when they came, whereas those bricky towres
+     The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde,
+     Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,{30}
+     There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,
+     Till they decayd through pride;
+     Next whereunto there standes a stately place,{31}
+     Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
+     Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
+     Whose want too well now feels my freendles case;{32}
+     But ah! here fits not well{33}
+     Old woes, but ioyes, to tell
+     Against the brydale daye, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer,{34}
+     Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder,
+     Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine{35} did thunder,
+     And Hercules two Pillors{36} standing neere
+     Did make to quake and feare:
+     Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie!
+     That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,
+     Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie,
+     And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
+     That promiseth the same;
+     That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,
+     Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes,
+     And great Elisaes glorious name may ring
+     Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,
+     Which some brave muse may sing
+     To ages following,
+     Upon the brydale day which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+     From those high towers this noble lord issuing,
+     Like radiant Hesper,{37} when his golden hare
+     In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,
+     Descended to the rivers open vewing,
+     With a great train ensuing.
+     Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
+     Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
+     Beseeming well the bower of any queene,
+     With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
+     Fit for so goodly stature,
+     That like the Twins of Iove{38} they seem'd in sight,
+     Which decke the bauldricke{39} of the heavens bright;
+     They two forth pacing to the rivers side,
+     Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight;
+     Which,{40} at th' appointed tyde,
+     Each one did make his Bryde
+     Against their brydale day, which is not long:
+       Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595.
+The word _prothalamium_ is from Gr. _pro_, for, and _thalamos_, a
+bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song
+than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written--earlier in the
+same year--the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing
+of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very
+ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad,"
+XVIII, 493:
+
+     "And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;
+      In one were marriage pomp and revelry,
+      And brides, in gay procession, through the streets
+      With blazing torches from their chambers borne,
+      While frequent rose the hymeneal song."
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38.
+
+1. =Titans.= The word is used for Helios, the son of the Titans, Hyperion
+and Thea. Observe that the apostrophe, as the sign of the possessive
+case, is never used by Spenser.
+
+=glyster.= Glisten, shine. From A.-S. _glisnian_, glow, or shine with a
+soft light.
+
+     "All that glisters is not gold."
+          --_Shakespeare_, _Merchant of Venice_, Act ii, sc. vii.
+
+     "Know one false step is ne'er retrieved . . .
+      Nor all that glisters gold."
+                             --_Gray_, _On a Favourite Cat, etc._
+
+=fayre.= Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage,
+but not current in Spenser's time.
+
+2. =princes court.= Spenser had had experience of the many bitter
+disappointments which befall him who seeks the favor of royalty. In
+"Mother Hubbard's Tale" he complains in this wise:
+
+     "Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
+      What hell it is in suing long to bide:
+      To lose good dayes that might be better spent;
+      To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
+      To speed today, to be put back tomorrow;
+      To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
+      To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;
+      To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;
+      To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
+      To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
+      To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne;
+      To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne."
+
+3. =silver streaming Themmes.= Sir John Denham's apostrophe to the Thames
+is well known:
+
+     "Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
+      My great example, as it is my theme!
+      Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
+      Strong without rage; without overflowing full."
+                                          --_Cooper's Hill_, 189.
+
+And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms:
+
+     "No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
+      No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear."
+                                         --_Windsor Forest_, 227.
+
+See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi.
+
+4. =rutty.= Rooty.
+
+5. =Against.= For, or in preparation for; to provide for. Compare Genesis
+xliii. 25: "And they made ready the present against Joseph came at
+noon." And Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act iii, sc. ii:
+
+     "I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."
+
+6. =Flood.= This word was often used, as here, to denote simply a river.
+Pope addresses the river Thames:
+
+     "Thou, too, great father of the British floods!"
+
+7. =all loose untyde.= Steevens says: "Brides formerly walked to church
+with their hair hanging loose behind."
+
+8. =entrayled.= Twisted, interlaced.
+
+9. =flasket.= A long, shallow basket. Not used here as the diminutive of
+_flask_. Hales says it is the name given by the fishermen of Cornwall to
+the vessel in which the fish are transferred from the seine to the
+"tuck-net."
+
+10. =cropt.= Gathered, Dutch _krappen_, to cut off.
+
+=feateously.= Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer:
+
+     "And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly."
+                                       --_Canterbury Tales_, 124.
+
+     "A chambre had he in that hostelrie
+      Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote."
+                                                 --_Ibid._, 3205.
+
+11. =on hye.= In haste. Probably the same as _hie_, haste.
+
+12. =pallid.= Pale.
+
+13. =primrose trew.= Compare Milton's "Lycidas," 142:
+
+     "The rathe primrose that forsaken dies."
+
+And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii;
+
+     "Pale primroses that die unmarried."
+
+14. =store.= Abundance.
+
+=vermeil.= Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun.
+
+15. =posies.= "Posy originally meant verses presented with a nosegay or a
+bunch of flowers, and hence the term came to be applied to the flowers
+themselves."
+
+16. =With that.= At the same time.
+
+=Swannes.= "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says:
+'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and
+their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their
+course.'"--_Knight's Cyclopedia of London._
+
+17. =lee.= Water, or river. See "Faerie Queene," V, ii, 19:
+
+     "His corps was carried downe along the lee,
+      Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned."
+
+Also, _Ibid._, IV, ii, 16:
+
+     "As when two warlike brigandines at sea,
+      With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,
+      Do meete together on the watry lea."
+
+The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in
+England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe.
+
+18. =nor nothing near.= In early English two negatives did not destroy
+each other, as now, but made the negation more emphatic.
+
+19. =Eftsoones.= Soon after. From A.-S. _eft_, after, and _sona_, soon.
+
+20. =Somers-heat.= The two ladies celebrated in this poem, it will be
+remembered, were Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset.
+
+21. The Peneus river, the most important stream in Thessaly, forces its
+way through the Vale of Tempe, between Mounts Ossa and Olympus, into the
+sea.
+
+22. =loves couplement.= Marriage.
+
+23. =heart-quelling Sonne.= Cupid.
+
+24. =assoile.= Free from, put off.
+
+     "Through long watch, and late daies weary toile,
+      She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile."
+                                   --_Faerie Queene_, III, i, 58.
+
+25. =bord.= "Bed" and "board" are two associated terms, very frequently
+so used, which imply the performance of the two acts necessary for the
+maintenance of life--sleeping and eating. See Shakespeare's "Comedy of
+Errors," Act v, sc. i:
+
+     "In bed he slept not for my urging it,
+      At board he fed not for my urging it."
+
+Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv:
+
+     "Wedding is great Juno's crown--
+      O blessed bond of board and bed!"
+
+26. =redoubled.= Repeated.
+
+=undersong.= Refrain, burden.
+
+27. =neighbour.= See note 10, on Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night."
+
+28. =shend.= Outshine, shame, disgrace. From A.-S. _scendan_.
+
+29. =my most kyndly nurse.= Although born in London, the poet was
+"descended from the ancient and honourable family of Spencer, of
+Althorpe in Northamptonshire."
+
+30. "When the order of the Knights Templar was suppressed in Edward the
+Second's reign, their London estate on the bank of the Thames was given
+over to the Knights of St. John; by these it was leased to the students
+of the Common Law, who, not finding a home at Cambridge or Oxford, were
+at that time in want of a habitation."--_Hales._
+
+31. =stately place.= This stood in the gardens where the Outer Temple
+should have been. In 1580 it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, and
+here Spenser was for a time entertained, as he asserts in the following
+line. The great lord whom he mentions was Leicester.
+
+32. "The want of whom I feel too well in my present friendless
+condition."
+
+33. =fits not well.= It is not proper.
+
+34. =nobler peer.= The Earl of Essex.
+
+35. Macaulay says of Lord Essex's expedition against Spain, in 1596,
+that it was "the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on
+the Continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed
+between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim."
+
+36. =Hercules two Pillors.= The rocky capes on either side of the Strait
+of Gibraltar. It was said that Hercules erected them to mark the western
+limit of his wanderings.
+
+37. =Hesper.= Hesperus was the evening star, also sometimes regarded as
+the morning star, and hence called by Homer the bringer of light. See
+note on Lucifer, page 80 and page 189.
+
+38. =Twins of Iove.= Castor and Pollux. Two heroic brothers who as a
+reward of their devotion to each other were placed among the stars in
+the constellation Gemini.
+
+39. =bauldricke.= Belt, girdle, or sash. The "bauldricke of the heavens"
+is the zodiac.
+
+40. =Which.= In early English this pronoun was very commonly used instead
+of _who_ when referring to persons.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+EDMUND SPENSER was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated
+at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University,
+where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first
+poetical performances--translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay--were
+published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author.
+At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and
+Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students
+who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney
+at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the
+house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published,
+but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards
+Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as
+secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the
+exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his
+life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a
+grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he
+wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they
+were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh,
+who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he
+married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English
+settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and
+published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the
+same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his
+"Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and
+marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the
+half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely interrupted by the
+breaking out of an insurrection among the Irish. In 1598 Spenser's house
+was sacked and burned by the rebels, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that he and his family escaped with their lives. Indeed, it
+is stated, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that one little child
+perished in the flames. Spenser returned to London in poverty and great
+distress, and on the 16th of January, 1599, he died in King Street,
+Westminster. He was buried in the Abbey.
+
+Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says
+Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren
+than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton,
+Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as
+the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling
+him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to
+think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he
+became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said
+he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young.
+Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior
+writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made
+use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him."
+
+Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And
+Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he.
+
+With reference to the peculiar forms of language--comparatively obsolete
+even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed--which are so marked a
+characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose
+for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry,
+and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older
+forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as
+to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and
+dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his
+vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly,
+the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus
+of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language
+may have seemed the one language of English poetry."
+
+
+REFERENCES: Warton's _History of English Poetry_; Hazlitt's _Lectures on
+the English Poets_; Craik's _Spenser and his Poetry_; Morley's _English
+Writers_.
+
+
+
+
+Thomas Wyatt.
+
+
+
+
+A LOVE SONG.
+
+THE LOVER COMPLAINETH OF THE UNKINDNESS OF HIS LOVE.
+
+
+     My lute, awake! perform the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And end that I have now begun:
+     And when this song is sung and past,
+     My lute! be still, for I have done.
+
+     As to be heard where ear is none;
+     As lead to grave in marble stone,
+     My song may pierce her heart as soon;
+     Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
+     No, no, my lute! for I have done.
+
+     The rock doth not so cruelly,
+     Repulse the waves continually,
+     As she my suit and affection:
+     So that I am past remedy;
+     Whereby my lute and I have done.
+
+     Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
+     Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
+     By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;
+     Think not he hath his bow forgot,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
+     That makest but game of earnest pain;
+     Trow not alone under the sun
+     Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
+     Although my lute and I have done.
+
+     May chance thee lie withered and old
+     In winter nights, that are so cold,
+     Plaining in vain unto the moon;
+     Thy wishes then dare not be told:
+     Care then who list, for I have done.
+
+     And then may chance thee to repent
+     The time that thou hast lost and spent,
+     To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:
+     Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
+     And wish and want, as I have done.
+
+     Now cease, my lute! This is the last
+     Labor that thou and I shall waste;
+     And ended is that we begun:
+     Now is thy song both sung and past;
+     My lute, be still, for I have done.
+
+
+
+
+THE COURTIER'S LIFE.
+
+
+     In court to serve, decked with fresh array,
+     Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast;
+     The life in banquets and sundry kinds of play,
+     Amid the press of worldly looks to waste:
+     Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste,
+       That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,
+       In prison joyes, fettered with chains of gold.
+
+
+
+
+The Earl of Surrey.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S "ÆNEID."
+
+
+     --At the threshold of her chamber door
+     The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend:
+     The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapped,
+     Chewing the foaming bit there fiercely stood.
+     Then issued she, awaited with great train,
+     Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroidered rich.
+     Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress
+     Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke
+     Buttoned with gold. The Trojans of her train
+     Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.
+     Æneas eke, the goodliest of the rout,
+     Makes one of them, and joineth close the throng.
+     Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,
+     His wint'ring place, and Xanthus, stood likewise,
+     To visit Delos his mother's mansion,
+     Repairing eft and furnishing her quire.
+     The Candians and the folk of Driopes,
+     With painted Agathyrsi shout and cry,
+     Environing the altars round about,
+     When that he walks upon Mount Cynthus' top,
+     His sparkled tress repressed with garlands soft
+     Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold,
+     His quiver and darts clattering behind his back--
+     So fresh and lusty did Æneas seem.
+     But to the hills and wild holts when they came
+     From the rock's top the driven savage rose.
+     So, from the hills above on the other side,
+     Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.
+     The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight,
+     Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.
+     The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed
+     Amids the plain, now pricks by them, by these;
+     And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind,
+     The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts,
+     Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written
+in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.
+
+
+
+
+A SONNET.
+
+DESCRIPTION AND PRAISE OF HIS LOVE GERALDINE.
+
+
+     From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race;
+       Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat;
+     The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face
+       Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat:
+     Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast;
+       Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood:
+     From tender years, in Britain she doth rest
+       With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.
+     Hunsdon did first present her to my een:
+       Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight:
+     Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:
+       And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.
+     Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above;
+     Happy is he that can obtain her love.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.
+
+
+     Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest:
+       Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
+     And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
+       Such profit he by envy could obtain.
+
+     A head where wisdom mysteries did frame,
+       Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain,
+     As on a stithe where that some work of fame
+       Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.
+
+     A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;
+       That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
+     A mark, the which (unperfected for time)
+       Some may approach, but never none shall hit.
+
+     An eye whose judgment none effect could blind,
+       Friends to allure and foes to reconcile,
+     Whose piercing look did represent a mind
+       With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.
+
+     A heart where dread was never so imprest
+       To hide the thought that might the truth advance;
+     In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,
+       To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.
+
+     A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met,
+       Happy alas, too happy but for foes,
+     Lived, and ran the race that nature set
+       Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.
+
+     Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost;
+     The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.
+
+WYATT and SURREY are usually named together as the most illustrious
+poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins
+calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"
+he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of
+Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers--the period
+which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and
+Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they
+were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller,
+Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's
+translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "Æneid" (1552) is
+the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THOMAS WYATT was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was
+a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was
+knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of
+the same year he was sent as ambassador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was
+with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England
+he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in
+1542.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY, was born about 1517, and, like his friend
+Wyatt, passed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France
+in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its
+governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he
+was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of
+the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of
+high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal
+arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.
+
+
+
+
+Ballads.
+
+
+
+
+WALY, WALY.
+
+
+     O waly,{1} waly, up the bank,
+       O waly, waly, doun the brae,{2}
+     And waly, waly, yon burn-side,{3}
+       Where I and my love were wont to gae!
+     I lean'd my back unto an aik,
+       I thocht it was a trustie tree,
+     But first it bow'd and syne{4} it brak',--
+       Sae my true love did lichtlie{5} me.
+
+     O waly, waly, but love be bonnie
+       A little time while it is new!
+     But when it's auld it waxeth cauld,
+       And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.
+     O wherefore should I busk{6} my heid,
+       Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
+     For my true love has me forsook,
+       And says he'll never lo'e me mair.
+
+     Noo Arthur's Seat{7} sall be my bed,
+       The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me;
+     Saint Anton's well sall be my drink;
+       Since my true love's forsaken me.
+     Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
+       And shake the green leaves off the tree?
+     O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
+       For of my life I am wearie.
+
+     'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
+       Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,
+     'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;
+       But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
+     When we cam' in by Glasgow toun,
+       We were a comely sicht to see;
+     My love was clad in the black velvet,
+       And I mysel' in cramasie.
+
+     But had I wist before I kiss'd
+       That love had been so ill to win,
+     I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud,
+       And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.
+     Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
+       And set upon the nurse's knee;
+     An' I mysel' were dead and gane,
+       And the green grass growing over me!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give
+it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating
+to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The
+lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with
+those of Lord Douglas.
+
+1. =waly.= An interjection denoting grief.
+
+2. =brae.= Hillside.
+
+3. =burn-side.= Brook-side.
+
+4. =syne.= Then.
+
+5. =lichtlie.= Slight, undervalue.
+
+6. =busk.= Dress.
+
+7. =Arthur's Seat.= A hill near Edinburgh, at the foot of which is St.
+Anthony's well.
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATRICK SPENS.
+
+A SCOTTISH BALLAD.
+
+[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should
+have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland about 1285.]
+
+
+     The king sits in Dunfermline town,
+       Drinking the blude-red wine;
+     "O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
+       To sail this new ship of mine!"
+
+     O up and spake an eldern knight,
+       Sat at the king's right knee,--
+     "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
+       That ever sail'd the sea."
+
+     Our king has written a braid letter,
+       And seal'd it with his hand,
+     And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Was walking on the strand.
+
+     "To Noroway, to Noroway,
+       To Noroway o'er the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
+
+     The first word that Sir Patrick read,
+       Sae loud, loud laughed he;
+     The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
+       The tear blinded his e'e.
+
+     "O wha is this has done this deed,
+       And tauld the king o' me,
+     To send us out, at this time of the year,
+       To sail upon the sea?
+
+     "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
+       Our ship must sail the faem;
+     The king's daughter of Noroway,
+       'Tis we must fetch her hame."
+
+     They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
+       Wi' a' the speed they may;
+     They hae landed in Noroway,
+       Upon a Wodensday.
+
+     They hadna been a week, a week,
+       In Noroway, but twae,
+     When that the lords o' Noroway
+       Began aloud to say,--
+
+     "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
+       And a' our queenis fee."
+     "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
+       Fu' loud I hear ye lie.
+
+     "For I brought as much white monie,
+       As gane my men and me,
+     And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,
+       Out o'er the sea wi' me.
+
+     "Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!
+       Our gude ship sails the morn."
+     "Now, ever alake, my master dear,
+       I fear a deadly storm!
+
+     "I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
+       Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
+     And, if we gang to sea, master,
+       I fear we'll come to harm."
+
+     They had not sailed a league, a league,
+       A league but barely three,
+     When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,
+       And gurly grew the sea.
+
+     The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,
+       It was sic a deadly storm;
+     And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,
+       Till a' her sides were torn.
+
+     "O where will I get a gude sailor,
+       To take my helm in hand,
+     Till I get up to the tall top-mast,
+       To see if I can spy land?"
+
+     "O here am I, a sailor gude,
+       To take the helm in hand,
+     Till you go up to the tall top-mast;
+       But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
+
+     He hadna gane a step, a step,
+       A step but barely ane,
+     When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,
+       And the salt sea it came in.
+
+     "Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another o' the twine,
+     And wap them into our ship's side,
+       And let na the sea come in."
+
+     They fetched a web o' the silken claith,
+       Another of the twine,
+     And wapped them round that gude ship's side,
+       But still the sea came in.
+
+     O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords
+       To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!
+     But lang or a' the play was play'd,
+       They wat their hats aboon.
+
+     And mony was the feather-bed,
+       That flattered on the faem;
+     And mony was the gude lord's son,
+       That never mair cam hame.
+
+     The ladyes wrang their fingers white,
+       The maidens tore their hair,
+     A' for the sake of their true loves;
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,
+       Wi' their fans into their hand,
+     Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
+       Come sailing to the strand!
+
+     And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,
+       Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,
+     A' waiting for their ain dear loves!
+       For them they'll see na mair.
+
+     O forty miles off Aberdeen,
+       'Tis fifty fathoms deep,
+     And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
+       Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
+
+
+NOTES AND GLOSSARY.
+
+This ballad in its original form is a very old one, and was probably at
+first a metrical story of the Scotch expedition which was sent to bring
+the Maid of Norway to Scotland (about the year 1285). In its
+sixteenth-century form it shows many changes and additions, some of
+which are not in harmony with the original tale. The _cork-heel'd
+shoon_, for example, were unknown until some hundreds of years later
+than the occurrence of the events here narrated.
+
+     =skeely=, skilful.
+     =skipper=, captain.
+     =braid=, open, not private.
+     =goud=, gold.
+     =fee= (see note 13, page 105).
+     =gane=, suffice.
+     =half-fou=, a quart, dry measure.
+     =alake=, alack.
+     =lift=, sky. (Still used in Scotland.)
+     =shoon=, shoes.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.
+
+
+     There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
+       And he was a squires son;
+     He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
+       That lived in Islington.
+
+     Yet she was coye, and would not believe
+       That he did love her soe,
+     Noe nor at any time would she
+       Any countenance to him showe.
+
+     But when his friendes did understand
+       His fond and foolish minde,
+     They sent him up to faire London,
+       An apprentice for to binde.
+
+     And when he had been seven long yeares,
+       And never his love could see,--
+     "Many a teare have I shed for her sake,
+       When she little thought of mee."
+
+     Then all the maids of Islington
+       Went forth to sport and playe,
+     All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
+       She secretly stole awaye.
+
+     She pulled off her gowne of greene,
+       And put on ragged attire,
+     And to faire London she would go
+       Her true love to enquire.
+
+     And as she went along the high road,
+       The weather being hot and drye,
+     She sat her downe upon a green bank,
+       And her true love came riding bye.
+
+     She started up, with a colour soe redd,
+       Catching hold of his bridle-reine;
+     "One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,
+       "Will ease me of much paine."
+
+     "Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
+       Praye tell me where you were borne."
+     "At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,
+       "Where I have had many a scorne."
+
+     "I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
+       O tell me, whether you knowe
+     The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
+       "She is dead, sir, long agoe."
+
+     "If she be dead, then take my horse,
+       My saddle and bridle also;
+     For I will into some farr countrye,
+       Where noe man shall me knowe."
+
+     "O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,
+       She standeth by thy side;
+     She is here alive, she is not dead,
+       And readye to be thy bride."
+
+     "O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
+       Ten thousand times therefore;
+     For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
+       Whom I thought I should never see more."
+
+
+
+
+ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS.
+
+
+     There are twelve months in all the year,
+       As I hear many say,
+     But the merriest month in all the year
+       Is the merry month of May.
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met a silly old woman,
+       Was weeping on the way.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old woman,
+       What news hast thou for me?"
+     Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town
+       To-day condemned to die."
+
+     "O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,
+       "Or have they ministers slain?
+     Or have they robbed any virgin?
+       Or other men's wives have ta'en?"
+
+     "They have no parishes burnt, good sir,
+       Nor yet have ministers slain,
+     Nor have they robbed any virgin,
+       Nor other men's wives have ta'en."
+
+     "O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,
+       "I pray thee tell to me."
+     "It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer,
+       Bearing their long bows with thee."
+
+     "Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,
+       "How thou madest me sup and dine?
+     By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,
+       "You could not tell it in better time."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down, and a day_,
+     And there he met with a silly old palmer,
+       Was walking along the highway.
+
+     "What news? what news? thou silly old man,
+       What news, I do thee pray?"
+     Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town
+       Are condemn'd to die this day."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old man,
+       Come change thy apparel for mine;
+     Here is ten shillings in good silvèr,
+       Go drink it in beer or wine."
+
+     "O, thine apparel is good," he said,
+       "And mine is ragged and torn;
+     Wherever you go, wherever you ride,
+       Laugh not an old man to scorn."
+
+     "Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,
+       Come change thy apparel with mine;
+     Here is a piece of good broad gold,
+       Go feast thy brethren with wine."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hat,
+       It stood full high on the crown:
+     "The first bold bargain that I come at,
+       It shall make thee come down."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's cloak,
+       Was patch'd black, blue, and red;
+     He thought it no shame, all the day long,
+       To wear the bags of bread.
+
+     Then he put on the old man's breeks,
+       Was patch'd from leg to side:
+     "By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,
+       "This man loved little pride."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's hose,
+       Were patch'd from knee to wrist:
+     "By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,
+       "I'd laugh if I had any list."
+
+     Then he put on the old man's shoes,
+       Were patch'd both beneath and aboon;
+     Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,
+       "It's good habit that makes a man."
+
+     Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
+       _With a link a down and a down_,
+     And there he met with the proud sheriff,
+       Was walking along the town.
+
+     "Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said;
+       "Now heaven you save and see!
+     And what will you give to a silly old man
+       To-day will your hangman be?"
+
+     "Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,
+       "Some suits I'll give to thee;
+     Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,
+       To-day's a hangman's fee."
+
+     Then Robin he turns him round about,
+       And jumps from stock to stone:
+     "By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,
+       "That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."
+
+     "I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,
+       Nor yet intends to trade;
+     But curst be he," said bold Robin,
+       "That first a hangman was made!
+
+     "I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,
+       And a bag for barley and corn;
+     And a bag for bread, and a bag for beef,
+       And a bag for my little small horn.
+
+     "I have a horn in my pockèt,
+       I got it from Robin Hood,
+     And still when I set it to my mouth,
+       For thee it blows little good."
+
+     "O, wind thy horn, thou proud fellòw!
+       Of thee I have no doubt.
+     I wish that thou give such a blast,
+       Till both thy eyes fall out."
+
+     The first loud blast that he did blow,
+       He blew both loud and shrill;
+     A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came riding over the hill.
+
+     The next loud blast that he did give,
+       He blew both loud and amain,
+     And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men
+       Came shining over the plain.
+
+     "O, who are these," the sheriff he said,
+       "Come tripping over the lee?"
+     "They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;
+      "They'll pay a visit to thee."
+
+     They took the gallows from the slack,
+       They set it in the glen,
+     They hanged the proud sherìff on that,
+       Released their own three men.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+Among the earliest and most popular of English ballads are those
+relating to Robin Hood. This noted, half-mythical outlaw was the
+impersonation of popular rights as they were understood by Englishmen of
+the lower orders in the days of the Plantagenets. Hence the memory of
+him and his reputed deeds was preserved in the songs of the people. "It
+is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to
+celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers,
+interests them more than any other." Even so late as the reign of Edward
+VI., "Robyn Hoode's Daye" was very generally observed in the country
+parishes as a day of feasting and amusement.
+
+The ballads were originally the production of wandering minstrels or
+gleemen, a class of men very popular in the Middle Ages, who followed
+the profession of poetry and music. These rude poets were held in the
+highest esteem and veneration by the people among whom they lived; they
+were received and welcomed wherever they went, and even kings delighted
+to honor them. In short, their art was supposed, by the Anglo-Saxons,
+to be of divine origin, having been invented by Odin, the great
+All-Father, and perfected by Bragi, the musician of the gods. As,
+however, civilization advanced and Christianity became established, this
+admiration for the minstrel and his art became modified in a degree. He
+was no longer regarded as a poet, but only as a singer, a sweet
+musician. Poetry was cultivated by men of leisure and refinement; but
+lyrical ballads remained the peculiar inheritance of the minstrel. For a
+long time after the Norman conquest, minstrels continued to gain their
+livelihood by singing in the houses of the great, and at festive
+occasions, which were never considered complete unless graced by the
+presence of these honored descendants of Bragi; nor did they cease to
+compose and sing their inimitable pieces until near the close of
+Elizabeth's reign. The greater number of the ballads now in existence
+were probably produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and
+the best of them originated in the "North Country," or the border region
+between England and Scotland. They were not at first reduced to writing,
+but were handed down from one generation to another merely by oral
+tradition. As regards their metre and versification, the ballads were
+commonly composed of iambic hexameters or heptameters rhyming in
+couplets. These couplets are readily broken into stanzas of four lines,
+in which form they are usually printed.
+
+The first collection of English ballads ever published was probably that
+of John Dryden, in 1684. The collection was included in a volume
+entitled _Miscellany Poems_. In 1723 a work called _A Collection of Old
+Ballads_ was published anonymously. In 1724 Allan Ramsay issued _The
+Evergreen_, "being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious
+before 1600." This work included many popular songs and ballads. It was
+reprinted in 1875.
+
+We owe the preservation of a large number of the most interesting and
+beautiful ballads to Bishop Percy, who, in 1765, published the first
+really valuable collection of such works in his _Reliques of Ancient
+English Poetry_. Previous to that time most of these songs had existed
+only in manuscript, or, if printed at all, in the cheapest style of
+typography, on sheets designed for circulation among the poor. Bishop
+Percy's work first called the attention of scholars to the value and
+beauty of these neglected and half-forgotten relics, and did much to
+bring about that revolution in literature which took place in the latter
+part of the last century. And it is to these old ballads, thus rescued
+from oblivion, that we owe very many of the noblest literary productions
+of the present century. We know that they were the immediate inspiration
+of Sir Walter Scott, and that they exerted a wonderful influence in
+modifying and directing the taste and style of many other distinguished
+writers.
+
+
+
+
+The Fifteenth Century.
+
+
+"_When we pass from Chaucer's age, we have to overleap nearly a hundred
+and eighty years before we alight upon a period presenting anything like
+an adequate show of literary continuation. A few smaller names are all
+that can be cited as poetical representatives of this sterile interval
+in the literary history of England: whatever of Chaucer's genius still
+lingered in the island seeming to have travelled northward and taken
+refuge in a series of Scotch poets, excelling any of their English
+contemporaries. We are driven to suppose that there was something in the
+social circumstances of England during the long period in question which
+prevented such talent as there was from assuming the particular form of
+literature. Fully to make out what this 'something' was may baffle us;
+but, when we remember that this was the period of the Civil Wars of the
+Roses, we have reason to believe that the dearth of pure literature may
+have been owing, in part, to the engrossing nature of the practical
+questions which then disturbed English society. . . . Accordingly,
+though printing was introduced during this period, and thus Englishmen
+had greater temptations to write, what they did write was almost
+exclusively plain grave prose, intended for practical or polemical
+occasions, and making no figure in a historical retrospect._"--DAVID
+MASSON.
+
+"_Must we quote all these good people who have nothing to say? . . .
+dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming
+chroniclers, most commonplace of men; spinners and spinsters of didactic
+poems who pile up verses on the training of falcons, on heraldry, on
+chemistry, . . . invent the same dream over again for the hundredth
+time, and get themselves taught universal history by the goddess
+Sapience. . . . It is the scholastic phase of poetry._"--TAINE.
+
+
+Poets of the Fifteenth Century.
+
+=John Lydgate= (1370-1440). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Thomas Occleve= (1365-1450). "De Regimine Principum"; short poems.
+
+=Robert Henryson= (1425-1480). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=William Dunbar= (1450-1513). See biographical note, page 283.
+
+=Gawain Douglas= (1474-1522). See biographical note, page 284.
+
+=Stephen Hawes= (    -1530), "The Pastime of Pleasure"; "Graunde Amour
+and la Belle Pucel."
+
+=John Skelton= (1460-1529). See biographical note, page 272.
+
+
+
+
+John Skelton.
+
+
+
+
+TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
+
+
+       Mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre;
+       Jentill as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+     With solace and gladnes,
+     Moche mirthe and no madness,
+     All good and no badness,
+       So joyously,
+       So maydenly,
+       So womanly,
+       Her demenyng
+       In every thynge,
+       Far, far passynge
+       That I can endyght,
+       Or suffyce to wryghte,
+       Of mirry Margaret,
+       As mydsomer flowre,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre:
+       As pacient and as styll,
+       And as full of good wyll
+       As faire Isaphill;
+       Colyaunder,
+       Swete pomaunder,
+       Goode Cassaunder;
+       Stedfast of thought,
+       Wele made, wele wrought;
+       Far may be sought,
+       Erst that ye can fynde
+       So corteise, so kynde,
+       As mirry Margaret,
+       This mydsomer floure,
+       Jentyll as fawcoun
+       Or hawke of the towre.
+
+
+
+
+CARDINAL WOLSEY.
+
+[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?"]
+
+
+     He is set so hye
+     In his ierarchye
+     Of frantike frenesy,
+     And folish fantasy,
+     That in chambre of stars{1}
+     Al maters ther he mars,
+     Clapping his rod on the borde,
+     No man dare speake a worde:
+     For he hath al the saying
+     Without any renaying.
+     He rolleth in his Recordes;
+     He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?
+     Is not my reason good?"
+     Good!--even good--_Robin Hood_!--
+     Borne up on every syde
+     With pompe and with pryde,
+     With trump up alleluya,{2}
+     For dame Philargyria{3}
+     Hath so his hart in hold.
+     Adew, Philosophia!
+     Adew, Theologia!
+     Welcome, dame Simonia,{4}
+     With dame Castamergia,{5}
+     To drink and for to eate,
+     Sweete ipocras{6} and sweete meate.
+     To keep his fleshe chaste
+     In Lente, for his repaste
+     He eateth capons stewed,
+     Fesaunt and partriche mewed--
+     Spareth neither mayd ne wife--
+     This is a postel's{7} life!
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =chambre of stars.= The Star Chamber, a court of civil and criminal
+jurisdiction for the punishment of offences for which the law made no
+provision. It was so called because the ceiling of the room in which it
+was held was decorated with gilt stars.
+
+2. =alleluya.= In allusion to the pomp with which Wolsey celebrated divine
+service.
+
+3. =Philargyria.= Love of money; covetousness.
+
+4. =Simonia.= Simony; buying and selling church livings.
+
+5. =Castamergia.= Gluttony. Greek _kastrimargia_. A not uncommon word
+among the monks of the Middle Ages, one of whose prayers was, "From the
+spirit of castrimargia, O Lord, deliver us!"
+
+6. =ipocras.= Hippocras, or spiced wine, a drink formerly very popular in
+England. It was made by mixing Canary and Lisbon wines, in equal parts,
+with various kinds of sweet spices, and allowing the whole to stand for
+a few days, after which the wine was poured off and sweetened with
+sugar.
+
+7. =postel.= Apostle--here ironically applied to Wolsey.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+JOHN SKELTON was born about the year 1460. In his earlier life he was
+the friend of Caxton, the first English printer, and of Percy, Earl of
+Northumberland. He was poet-laureate under Henry VII., and tutor of the
+young prince (afterwards Henry VIII.), and was described by Erasmus as
+_litterarum Anglicarum lumen et decus_. Later in life he was promoted to
+the rectory of Diss in Norfolk, but was severely censured by his bishop
+for his buffooneries in the pulpit and his satirical ballads against the
+mendicants. He finally became a hanger-on about the court of Henry
+VIII.; and, daring to write a rhyming libel on Cardinal Wolsey, was
+driven to take refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. There he
+was kindly entertained and protected by Abbot Islip until his death in
+1529. Some of his poems were printed in 1512, and others in 1568.
+
+Taine calls Skelton "a virulent pamphleteer, who jumbles together
+French, English, Latin phrases, with slang and fashionable words,
+invented words, intermingled with short rhymes. Style, metre, rhyme,
+language, art of every kind, at an end; beneath the vain parade of
+official style there is only a heap of rubbish. Yet, as he says,
+
+     'Though my rhyme be ragged,
+      Tatter'd and jagged,
+      Rudely rain-beaten,
+      Rusty, moth-eaten,
+      Yf ye take welle therewithe,
+      It hath in it some pithe.'"
+
+As to the coarseness which characterizes his verses, it cannot be
+explained by saying that it is a reflection of the manners of the times
+in which he lived. For, as Warton says, Skelton "would have been a
+writer without decorum at any period." Yet, notwithstanding his faults,
+he is deserving of our notice, if for nothing else, on account of the
+complete originality of his style--a style unknown and unattempted by
+any former writer. His bold departure from the accepted rules of
+versification showed to those who followed him some of the possibilities
+in English poetical composition, and helped to open the way to the great
+outburst of song which followed.
+
+
+
+
+Selections from Four Minor Poets.
+
+
+
+
+A VISIT TO LONDON.
+
+BY JOHN LYDGATE.
+
+
+     Then unto London I dyd me hye,
+     Of all the land it beareth the pryse:
+     "Hot pescodes," one began to crye,
+     "Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse";
+     One bade me come nere and by some spyce,
+     Peper and safforne they gan me bede,
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,
+     Where mutch people I saw for to stand;
+     One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,
+     An other he taketh me by the hande,
+     "Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land";
+     I never was used to such thyngs indede,
+     And wanting mony, I might not spede.
+
+     Then went I forth by London stone,
+     Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;
+     Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;
+     Then comes me one, cryed, "Hot shepes feete";
+     One cryde "makerell," "ryshes grene," an other gan greete;
+     One bad me by a hood to cover my head,
+     But for want of mony I myght not be sped.
+
+     Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;
+     One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:
+     Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;
+     There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.
+     "Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye;
+     Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;
+     But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
+
+     Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,
+     Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;
+     I saw where honge myne owne hoode,
+     That I had lost amonge the thronge;
+     To by my own hood I thought it wronge,
+     I knew it well as I dyd my crede,
+     But for lack of mony I could not spede.
+
+     The taverner tooke me by the sleve,
+     "Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay"?
+     I answered, "That can not mutch me greve:
+     A peny can do no more than it may";
+     I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;
+     Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,
+     And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.
+
+     Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;
+     And one cryed, "Hoo! go we hence!"
+     I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,
+     That he wold spare me my expence.
+     "Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under two pence;
+     I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede."
+     Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.
+
+     Then I convayd me into Kent;
+     For of the law wold I meddle no more;
+     Because no man to me tooke entent,
+     I dyght me to do as I dyd before.
+     Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,
+     Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!
+     For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.
+
+--_From "London Lickpenny."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =anone=, at once.
+     =assay=, try.
+     =bede=, offer.
+     =Chepe=, the market. Cheapside, still a famous street in London.
+     =dyght=, disposed.
+     =gere=, apparel.
+     =greete=, cry out.
+     =hyed=, hurried.
+     =lyst=, wish.
+     =mede=, reward, wages.
+     =pescodes=, pease.
+     =ryse=, bough or twig.
+     =ryshes=, rushes.
+     =spede=, proceed, do.
+     =yede=, went.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN AGE.
+
+
+     Rightwisenes chastised al robbours,
+     By egall balaunce of execucion,
+     Fraud, falsë mede, put backward fro jurours,
+     True promes holde, made no delacioun;
+     Forswearing shamed durst enter in no toun,
+     Nor lesingmongers, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     That golden world could lovë God and drede,
+     All the seven dedes of mercy for to use,
+     The rich was ready to do almës dede,
+     Who asked harbour, men did him not refuse;
+     No man of malice would other tho accuse,
+     Defame his neighbour, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     The true marchant by measure bought and sold,
+     Deceipt was none in the artificer,
+     Making no balkes, the plough was truely hold,
+     Abacke stode Idlenes, farre from labourer,
+     Discrecion marcial at diner and supper,
+     Content with measure, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     Of wast in clothing was that time none excesse;
+     Men might the lord from his subjectës know;
+     A difference made twene povertie and richesse,
+     Twene a princesse and other statës lowe;
+     Of horned boastës no boast was tho blowe,
+     Nor counterfeit feining, because Attemperaunce
+     Had in that world wholy the governaunce.
+
+     This golden world long whylë dyd endure,
+     Was none allay in that metall sene,
+     Tyll Saturne ceased, by record of scripture,
+     Jupiter reygned, put out his father clene,
+     Chaunged obrison into silver shene,
+     Al up so downe, because Attemperaunce
+     Was set asyde, and loste her governaunce.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+"The Falls of Princes," from which this is an extract, was printed in
+folio in 1558. Its complete title is, "The Tragedies gathered by Jhon
+Bochas of all such Princes as fell from theyr Estates throughe the
+Mutability of Fortune since the creation of Adam until his time; wherin
+may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable
+warninges howe the like may be avoyded. Translated into English by John
+Lidgate, Monke of Burye."
+
+
+
+
+THE GARMOND OF FAIR LADIES.
+
+BY ROBERT HENRYSON.
+
+
+     Wald my gud lady lufe me best,
+       And wirk eftir my will,
+     I suld ane Garmond gudliest
+       Gar mak hir body till.
+
+     Off hie honour suld be hir hud,
+       Upoun hir heid to weir,
+     Garneist with governance so gud,
+       Na demyng suld hir deir.
+
+     Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,
+       Of chestetie so quhyt,
+     With schame and dreid togidder mixt,
+       The same suld be perfyt.
+
+     Hir kirtill suld be of clene constance,
+       Lasit with lesum lufe,
+     The mailyheis of continuance
+       For nevir to remufe.
+
+     Hir gown suld be of gudliness
+       Weill ribband with renowne,
+     Purfillit with plesour in ilk place,
+       Furrit with fyne fassoun.
+
+     Hir belt suld be of benignitie,
+       About hir middill meit;
+     Hir mantill of humilitie,
+       To tholl bayth wind and weit.
+
+     Hir hat suld be of fair having
+       And her tepat of trewth,
+     Hir patelet of gude pansing,
+       Hir hals-ribbane of rewth.
+
+     Hir slevis suld be of esperance,
+       To keip hir fra dispair;
+     Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance,
+       To hyd hir fyngearis fair.
+
+     Hir schone suld be of sickernes,
+       In syne that scho nocht slyd;
+     Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges,
+       I suld for hir provyd.
+
+     Wald scho put on this Garmond gay,
+       I durst sweir by my seill,
+     That scho woir nevir grene nor gray
+       That set hir half so weill.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =esperance=, hope.
+     =fassoun=, manners.
+     =garmond=, garment, costume.
+     =governance=, discretion.
+     =hals-ribbane=, neck-ribbon.
+     =hoiss=, hose.
+     =hud=, hood.
+     =kirtill=, skirt.
+     =lasit=, fastened.
+     =lesum=, lawful.
+     =lufe=, love.
+     =mailyheis=, eyelet-holes.
+     =pansing=, thought.
+     =patelet=, ruffet.
+     =quhyt=, white.
+     =rewth=, pity.
+     =sark=, shirt, chemise.
+     =scho=, she.
+     =schone=, shoes.
+     =seill=, knowledge.
+     =set=, suited.
+     =sickernes=, security.
+     =suld=, should.
+     =tepat=, tippet.
+     =tholl=, withstand.
+     =weit=, rain.
+
+
+
+
+A MAY MORNING.
+
+BY WILLIAM DUNBAR.
+
+
+     Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past
+       And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,
+     Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,
+       And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
+       Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
+     Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
+     Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:
+
+     In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
+       Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene
+     In at the window lukit by the day,
+       And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;
+       On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,
+     Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering
+     Sé hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.
+
+     Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,
+       In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,
+     Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude
+       In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new
+       Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,
+     Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;
+     Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.
+
+     Slugird, scho said, awalk annone for schame,
+       And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;
+     The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,
+       To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt;
+       Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
+     Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
+     Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.
+
+     Then callit scho all flouris that grew on feild
+       Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris
+     Upone the awfull Thrissil scho beheld
+       And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;
+       Considering him so able for the weiris
+     A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,
+     And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:
+
+     And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;
+       Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce
+     As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;
+       And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,
+       Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;
+     Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
+     Compair hir to the lilleis nobilness.
+
+     Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty
+       As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:
+     For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;
+       Considring that no flour is so perfyt,
+       So full of vertew, pleasans, and delyt,
+     So full of blisful angeilik bewty,
+     Imperiall birth, honour and dignité.
+
+
+NOTE.
+
+This is a selection from the long allegorical poem, "The Thistle and the
+Rose." The thistle represents Scotland, of which country that plant is
+the national emblem. The fleur-de-lis, or lily, represents France; and
+the rose, England. The poem was written in celebration of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret of England, and the
+friendly relations thus established for a time between those two
+countries.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =denty=, favor.
+     =effeiris=, affairs.
+     =ene=, eyes.
+     =fallow=, betroth.
+     =forgit=, made, created.
+     =gife=, if.
+     =halsit=, hailed.
+     =houris=, morning orisons.
+     =laif=, rest.
+     =lemys=, rays.
+     =lukit=, looked.
+     =mansuetude=, gentleness.
+     =morrow=, morning.
+     =muddir=, mother.
+     =orient=, eastern.
+     =quhen=, when.
+     =quhois=, whose.
+     =quhyll=, while.
+     =rois=, rose.
+     =sic=, such.
+     =speiris=, spears.
+     =splene=, heart.
+     =thrissil=, thistle.
+     =udir=, other.
+     =weid=, garments.
+     =weiris=, wars.
+
+
+
+
+IN PRAISE OF HONOUR.
+
+BY GAWAIN DOUGLAS.
+
+
+       O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour degest,
+     Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest.
+     For hie renoun thow art guerdoun conding,
+     Of worschip kend the glorious end and rest,
+     But quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest.
+     Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing,
+     And pouerall to mekill auaill sone bring.
+     I the require sen thow but peir art best,
+     That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.
+
+       Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis,
+     That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis,
+     Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.
+     He docht richt nocht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis;
+     Thy name but blame, and royal fame diuine is;
+     Thow port at schort of our comfort and reid,
+     Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid,
+     All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,
+     O schene I mene, nane may sustene thy feid.
+
+       Haill rois maist chois till clois thy fois greit micht,
+     Haill stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht,
+     Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice,
+     Was ay ilk day gar say the way of licht;
+     Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt.
+     Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise,
+     Till be supplie, and the high gre of price.
+     Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,
+     For I apply schortlie to thy deuise.
+                                 --_From "The Palice of Honour."_
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =afoir=, before.
+     =auance=, advance.
+     =ay=, ever, always.
+     =but=, without.
+     =conding=, condign, worthy.
+     =crynis=, diminishes.
+     =deid=, death.
+     =degest=, grave.
+     =dicht=, relieve.
+     =docht=, avails.
+     =feid=, hatred.
+     =fois=, time.
+     =glaiding=, happiness.
+     =gloir=, glory.
+     =grant=, giving.
+     =gre=, degree.
+     =guerdoun=, reward.
+     =ilk=, any.
+     =mekill=, much, mickle.
+     =peir=, peer.
+     =poureall=, the poor.
+     =puissance=, power.
+     =quhilk=, who, which.
+     =quhome=, without whom.
+     =reid=, advice.
+     =rois=, king.
+     =sanct=, saint.
+     =site=, shame.
+     =till=, to.
+     =tite=, quickly.
+     =tynis=, loses.
+     =wicht=, person, wight.
+
+
+
+
+FOUR POETS OF THIS CENTURY.
+
+
+JOHN LYDGATE was born at the village of Lydgate, near Newmarket, about
+1370. He was a Benedictine monk attached to the monastery of Bury St.
+Edmunds, and is remembered as the author of three poems, which, in their
+time, attracted much attention. These are "The Storie of Thebes,"
+written in ten-syllable rhyming couplets, and founded upon the "Teseide"
+of Boccaccio; the "Troye Book," finished about 1420, and relating the
+story of the Trojan war as recounted by Guido di Colonna in his Latin
+prose history of Troy; and "The Falls of Princes," founded on a French
+version of Boccaccio's "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium." In 1433, Lydgate
+wrote a wearisome but somewhat amusing poem, "Pur le Roy," describing a
+visit to London, and the pageants, processions, and other rejoicings, on
+the occasion of the entrance of Henry VI. into the city after his
+coronation. The date of the poet's death is not exactly known, but it
+was probably not later than 1440.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT HENRYSON, "an accomplished man and a good and genuine poet," was
+born about the year 1425, and died near the close of the century. He was
+for a time a schoolmaster and notary public at Dunfermline, in Scotland,
+and was connected, in some capacity, with the University of Glasgow. He
+was probably, like Lydgate, a Benedictine monk. His principal works are
+"The Testament of Cresseid," a sequel to Chaucer's "Troilus and
+Cresseide," and a collection of thirteen fables. He wrote also many
+shorter poems, of which the ballad of "Robin and Makyne" (published in
+Percy's _Reliques_) is the best known.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WILLIAM DUNBAR was born in East Lothian, Scotland, about the year 1450.
+He was educated at the University of St. Andrews, and in early life
+travelled somewhat extensively as a novitiate of the order of St.
+Francis. He visited England in 1501, upon the occasion of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry
+VII. One of his best poems, "The Thistle and the Rose," was written in
+commemoration of that event. He accompanied the queen to Aberdeen in
+1511, and for some time, both before and after, was in attendance and
+favor at the Scotch court. Nothing is known of his death, but it has
+been conjectured that he fell in the battle of Flodden, in 1513.
+Besides the poem just mentioned, he wrote "The Golden Targe," "The Dance
+of the Deadly Sins," and many shorter poems, most of which are
+allegories. The "Thistle and the Rose" has been pronounced "the happiest
+political allegory in our language. Heraldry has never been more
+skilfully handled, nor compliments more gracefully paid, nor fidelity
+more persuasively preached to a monarch than in this poem."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GAWAIN DOUGLAS was a son of the famous Earl of Angus, and was born in
+Brechin, Scotland, about 1474. He was educated partly at the University
+of St. Andrews, and partly in Paris. His first considerable poem, "The
+Palice of Honour," was published in 1501, and dedicated to King James
+IV. It is an allegory, such as was at that time the staple of poetical
+composition, and contains but little that is particularly original.
+Another allegory, printed after his death, is entitled "King Hart," and
+has for its subject the heart of man. His greatest work is his
+translation of Virgil's "Æneid" into Scottish verse. In 1509, Douglas
+was appointed provost of St. Giles, Edinburgh, and after the battle of
+Flodden he was made abbot of Aberbrothwick. In 1515 he was consecrated
+Bishop of Dunkeld, but was unable to gain possession of the cathedral
+except by force. Becoming involved in the feud between the rival
+families of Angus and Hamilton, he was obliged to escape into England in
+1521, where towards the end of the same year he died.
+
+
+
+
+The Fourteenth Century.
+
+
+"_In the fourteenth century there comes an Englishman nourished on this
+[the romance] poetry, taught his trade by this poetry, getting words,
+rhyme, metre from this poetry; for even of that stanza which the
+Italians used, and which Chaucer derived immediately from the Italians,
+the basis and suggestion was probably given in France. . . . If we ask
+ourselves wherein consists the immense superiority of Chaucer's poetry
+over the [earlier] romance-poetry, why it is that in passing from this
+to Chaucer we suddenly feel ourselves to be in another world, we shall
+find that his superiority is both in the substance of his poetry and in
+the style of his poetry. His superiority in substance is given by his
+large, free, simple, clear yet kindly view of human life. . . . We have
+only to call to mind the Prologue to 'The Canterbury Tales.' The right
+comment upon it is Dryden's: 'It is sufficient to say, according to the
+proverb, that _here is God's plenty_.' And again: 'He is a perpetual
+fountain of good sense.' It is by a large, free, sound representation of
+things, that poetry, this high criticism of life, has truth of
+substance; and Chaucer's poetry has truth of substance. If we think of
+Chaucer's divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity of movement,
+it is difficult to speak temperately. They are irresistible, and justify
+all the rapture with which his successors speak of his gold 'dew-drops
+of speech.' . . . Chaucer is the father of our splendid English poetry,
+he is our 'well of English undefiled,' because by the lovely charm of
+his diction, the lovely charm of his movement, he makes an epoch and
+founds a tradition. In Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, we can
+follow the tradition of the liquid diction, the fluid movement, of
+Chaucer; at one time it is his liquid diction of which in these poets we
+feel the virtue, and at another it is his fluid movement. And the virtue
+is irresistible._"--MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+
+Poets of the Fourteenth Century.
+
+=Geoffrey Chaucer= (1328-1400). See biographical note, page 301.
+
+=William Langland= (1332-    ). "The Vision of William concerning Piers the
+Ploughman."
+
+=John Gower= (1330-1408). "Confessio Amantis."
+
+
+
+
+Geoffrey Chaucer.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES."
+
+
+     Whan that Aprille with his schowrës swoote
+     The drought of Marche had perced to the roote,
+     And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
+     Of which vertue engendred is the flour;
+     Whan Zephirus eek with his swetë breethe
+     Enspired hath in every holte and heethe
+     The tendre croppës, and the yongë sonne
+     Hath in the Ram{1} his halfë cours i-ronne,{2}
+     And smalë fowlës maken melodie,
+     That slepen al the night with open eye,
+     So priketh hem nature in here corages:--
+     Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,
+     And palmers for to seeken{3} straungë strondes,
+     To fernë halwes, kouthe in sondry londes;
+     And specially, from every schirës ende
+     Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
+     The holy blisful martir{4} for to seeke,
+     That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.{5}
+       Byfel that, in that sesoun on a day,
+     In Southwerk at the Tabard{6} as I lay,
+     Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
+     To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,
+     At night was come into that hostelrye
+     Wel nyne and twenty in a compainye,
+     Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle
+     In felaweschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle,
+     That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;
+     The chambres and the stables{7} weren wyde,
+     And wel we werën esed attë beste.
+     And schortly, whan the sonnë was to reste,
+     So hadde I spoken with hem everychon,
+     That I was of here felaweschipe anon,
+     And madë forward erly for to ryse,
+     To take our wey ther as I yow devyse.
+     But nathëles, whil I have tyme and space,
+     Or{8} that I forther in this talë pace,
+     Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,
+     To tellë yow al the condicioun{9}
+     Of eche of hem, so as it semede me,
+     And whiche they weren, and of what degre;
+     And eek in what array that they were inne:
+     And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.
+       A KNIGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,
+     That from the tymë that he first bigan
+     To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,{10}
+     Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.
+     Ful worthy was he in his lordës werre,
+     And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,
+     As wel in Cristendom as in hethënesse,{11}
+     And evere honoured for his worthinesse.
+     At Alisaundre{12} he was whan it was wonne,
+     Ful oftë tyme he hadde the bord bygonne{13}
+     Aboven allë naciouns in Pruce.{14}
+     In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,
+     No cristen man so ofte of his degre.
+     In Gernade{15} attë siegë hadde he be
+     Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.
+     At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,
+     Whan they were wonne; and in the Greetë see{16}
+     At many a noble arive hadde he be.
+     At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,
+     And foughten for our feith at Tramassene
+     In lystës thriës, and ay slayn his foo.
+     This ilkë worthy knight hadde ben also
+     Somtymë with the lord of Palatye,{17}
+     Ageyn another hethen in Turkye:
+     And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.
+     And though that he was worthy, he was wys,
+     And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
+     He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde
+     In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.{18}
+     He was a verray perfight gentil knight.
+     But for to tellen you of his array,
+     His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.
+     Of fustyan he werede a gepoun
+     Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.
+     For he was late ycome from his viage,
+     And wentë for to doon his pilgrimage.
+       With him ther was his sone, a yong SQUYER,
+     A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,{19}
+     With lokkës crulle as they were leyd in presse.
+     Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.
+     Of his stature he was of even lengthe,
+     And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.
+     And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye,
+     In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye,
+     And born him wel, as of so litel space,
+     In hope to stonden in his lady grace.
+     Embrowded was he, as it were a mede
+     Al ful of fresshë floures, white and reede.
+     Syngynge he was, or floytynge,{20} al the day;
+     He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.
+     Schort was his goune, with sleevës longe and wyde.
+     Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and fairë ryde.
+     He cowdë songës make and wel endite,
+     Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.
+     So hote he lovedë, that by nightertale
+     He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.
+     Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable,
+     And carf byforn his fader at the table.
+       A YEMAN hadde he,{21} and servaunts nomoo
+     At that tyme, for him lustë rydë soo;
+     And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.
+     A shef of pocok arwës{22} brighte and kene
+     Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.
+     Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly;
+     His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.
+     And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe
+     A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.
+     Of woodë-craft wel cowde he al the usage.
+     Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer{23}
+     And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,
+     And on that other side a gay daggere,
+     Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere;
+     A Cristofre{24} on his brest of silver schene.
+     An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;
+     A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.
+       Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,
+     That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;
+     Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy{25};
+     And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.
+     Ful wel sche sang the servisë divyne,
+     Entuned in hire nose ful semëly;
+     And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly,
+     After the scole of Stratford attë Bowe,
+     For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.
+     At metë wel i-taught was sche withalle;
+     Sche leet no morsel from hire lippës falle,
+     Ne wette hire fyngres in hire saucë deepe.
+     Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe,
+     That no dropë ne fille upon hire breste.
+     In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
+     Hire overlippë wypede sche so clene,
+     That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
+     Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
+     Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
+     And sikerly sche was of gret disport,{26}
+     And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
+     And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
+     Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,
+     And to ben holden digne of reverence.
+     But for to speken of hir conscience,
+     Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
+     Sche woldë weepe if that sche saw a mous
+     Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
+     Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
+     With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.
+     But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
+     Or if men{27} smot it with a yerdë smerte:
+     And al was conscience and tendre herte.
+     Ful semëly hire wympel i-pynched was;
+     Hir nose tretys; hir eyën greye as glas;
+     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed
+     But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
+     It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
+     For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
+     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
+     Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar
+     A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
+     And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,
+     On which was first i-write a crownëd A,
+     And after, _Amor vincit omnia._{28}
+     Another NONNE with hir haddë sche,
+     That was hir chapeleyne,{29} and PRESTES thre.
+       A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistryë,{30}
+     An out-rydere, that lovedë veneryë;
+     A manly man, to ben an abbot able.
+     Ful many a deynté hors hadde he in stable:
+     And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere
+     Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,
+     And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.
+     Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,
+     The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,
+     Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,
+     This ilkë monk leet oldë thingës pace,
+     And held after the newë world the space.
+     He yaf nat of that text a pullëd hen,{31}
+     That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;
+     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchëles
+     Is likned to a fissch that is waterles{32};
+     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
+     But thilkë text held he not worth an oystre.
+     And I seide his opinioun was good.
+     What{33} schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,{34}
+     Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.
+     Or swynkë with his handës, and laboure,
+     As Austyn bit? How schal the world be servëd?
+     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reservëd.
+     Therfor he was a pricasour aright;
+     Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;
+     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
+     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.{35}
+     I saugh his slevës purfiled attë honde
+     With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.
+     And for to festne his hood under his chynne
+     He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne:
+     A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.
+     His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas,
+     And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.
+     He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;
+     His eyën steepe, and rollyng in his heede,
+     That stemëde as a forneys of a leede;{36}
+     His bootës souple, his hors in gret estat.
+     Now certeinly he was a fair prelat;
+     He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.
+     A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.
+     His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.
+       A FRERE there was, a wantown and a merye,
+     A lymytour,{37} a ful solempnë man.
+     In alle the ordres foure{38} is noon that can
+     So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.
+     He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage
+     Of yongë wymmen, at his owën cost.
+     Unto his ordre he was a noble post.{39}
+     Ful wel biloved and famulier was he
+     With frankeleyns{40} over-al in his cuntre,
+     And eek with worthy wommen of the toun:
+     For he hadde power of confessioun,
+     As seyde himself, morë than a curat,
+     For of his ordre he was licentiat.{41}
+     Ful swetëly herde he confessioun,
+     And plesaunt was his absolucioun;
+     He was an esy man to yeve penaunce
+     Ther as he wistë han{42} a good pitaunce;
+     For unto a poure ordre for to yive
+     Is signë that a man is wel i-schrive.
+     For if he yaf, he dorstë make avaunt,
+     He wistë that a man was repentaunt.
+     For many a man so hard is of his herte,
+     He may not wepe although him sorë smerte.
+     Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres,
+     Men{43} moot yive silver to the pourë freres.
+     His typet was ay farsëd ful of knyfes
+     And pynnës, for to yivë fairë wyfes.
+     And certeynly he hadde a mery note;
+     Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.
+     Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.
+     His nekkë whit was as the flour-de-lys.
+     Therto he strong was as a champioun.
+     He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,
+     And everych hostiler and tappestere,
+     Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere,
+     For unto such a worthy man as he
+     Acorded not, as by his faculté,
+     To han with sikë lazars aqueyntaunce.
+     It is not honest, it may not avaunce,
+     For to delen with no such poraille,
+     But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.{44}
+     And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise,
+     Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.
+     Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.
+     He was the bestë beggere in his hous,
+     For though a widewe haddë noght oo schoo,
+     So plesaunt was his _In principio_,{45}
+     Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.
+     His purchas{46} was wel better than his rente.
+     And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe,
+     In lovë-dayës{47} couthe he mochel helpe.
+     For ther he was not lik a cloysterer,
+     With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler,
+     But he was lik a maister or a pope.
+     Of double worsted was his semy-cope,
+     That rounded as a belle out of the presse.
+     Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse,
+     To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge;
+     And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge
+     His eyën twynkled in his heed aright,
+     As don the sterrës in the frosty night.
+     This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.
+       A MARCHAUNT was ther with a forkëd berd,
+     In mottëleye, and hign on hors he sat,
+     Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat;
+     His botës clapsed faire and fetysly.
+     His resons he spak ful solempnëly,
+     Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.
+     He wolde the see were kept for{48} eny thinge
+     Betwixë Middelburgh and Orëwelle.
+     Wel couthe he in eschaungë scheeldës{49} selle.
+     This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette;
+     Ther wistë no wight that he was in dette,
+     So estatly was he of governaunce,
+     With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce
+     For sothe he was a worthy man withalle,
+     But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.
+       A CLERK ther was of Oxenford{50} also,
+     That unto logik haddë longe i-go.
+     As lenë was his hors as is a rake,
+     And he was not right{51} fat, I undertake;
+     But lokëde holwe, and therto soberly.
+     Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.
+     For he hadde geten him yit no benefice,
+     Ne was so worldly for to have office.
+     For him was levere have at his beddës heede
+     Twenty bookës, clad in blak or reede,
+     Of Aristotle and his philosophyë,
+     Then robës riche, or fithel, or gay sawtryë.{52}
+     But al be that he was a philosophre,
+     Yet haddë he but litel gold in cofre;
+     But al that he mighte of his frendës hente,
+     On bookës and on lernyng he it spente,
+     And busily gan for the soulës preye
+     Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye;
+     Of studie took he most cure and most heede.
+     Not oo word spak he morë than was neede,
+     And that was seid in forme and reverence
+     And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.
+     Sownynge{53} in moral vertu was his speche,
+     And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
+
+
+GLOSSARY.
+
+     =ageyn=, against.
+     =arive=, disembarkment.
+     =aventure=, chance.
+     =ay=, always.
+     =bar=, bore.
+     =bawdrick=, baldric.
+     =ben=, to be.
+     =bit=, biddeth.
+     =byfel=, it happened.
+     =bysmotered=, smutted.
+     =carf=, carved.
+     =cheere=, manner.
+     =chevysaunce=, loans, bargains.
+     =chivachye=, military expedition.
+     =clapsed=, clasped.
+     =cleped=, called.
+     =clerk=, a scholar.
+     =corage=, heart.
+     =courtepy=, cloak.
+     =cowde=, knew.
+     =crulle=, curled.
+     =cure=, care.
+     =delyver=, active.
+     =devyse=, speak of.
+     =digne=, worthy.
+     =don=, do.
+     =eek=, also.
+     =embrowded=, embroidered.
+     =encres=, increase.
+     =everychon=, every one, all.
+     =farsed=, stuffed.
+     =ferne=, distant, foreign.
+     =ferre=, farther.
+     =ferthing=, small portion.
+     =fetysly=, neatly, well.
+     =fithel=, fiddle.
+     =Flaundrische=, Flemish.
+     =flotynge=, fluting, playing.
+     =flour-de-lys=, fleur-de-lis.
+     =for-pyned=, much wasted.
+     =forster=, forester.
+     =frere=, friar.
+     =gawded=, having gawds.
+     =gepoun=, short cassock.
+     =goost=, ghost.
+     =grys=, fur.
+     =gynglen=, jingling.
+     =habergeoun=, hawberk.
+     =halwes=, shrines (holies).
+     =heethe=, heath, meadow.
+     =hem=, them.
+     =here=, their.
+     =heute=, borrow.
+     =holpen=, helped.
+     =holte=, wood.
+     =i-falle=, fallen.
+     =ilke=, same.
+     =i-ronne=, ran.
+     =juste=, joust.
+     =kouthe=, known.
+     =leede=, cauldron.
+     =leste=, pleasure.
+     =levere=, rather.
+     =lipsede=, lisped.
+     =luste=, pleased.
+     =maistrye=, mastery.
+     =maner=, kind.
+     =mede=, meadow.
+     =mete=, meals, eating.
+     =motteleye=, mixed colors.
+     =nightertale=, night-time.
+     =noon=, not one, not at all.
+     =not-heed=, shorn-head.
+     =pace=, pass.
+     =peyned=, took pains.
+     =pitous=, full of pity.
+     =pocok=, peacock.
+     =poraille=, poor folks.
+     =pricasour=, hard rider.
+     =priketh=, incites, spurs.
+     =prys=, reputation, worth.
+     =purfiled=, embroidered.
+     =purtreye=, paint.
+     =raughte=, reached.
+     =reccheles=, reckless.
+     =reysed=, ridden.
+     =rote=, a musical instrument.
+     =sawtreye=, psaltery.
+     =schene=, bright.
+     =scoleye=, attend school.
+     =seeke=, sick.
+     =semely=, becomingly.
+     =sikerly=, surely.
+     =somdel=, somewhat.
+     =sondry=, different kinds.
+     =sothly=, truly.
+     =souple=, pliant.
+     =sovereyn=, excellent.
+     =sowning=, boasting.
+     =steepe=, bright.
+     =streit=, strict.
+     =swich=, such.
+     =swynke=, toil.
+     =thilke=, this.
+     =tretys=, slender.
+     =venerye=, hunting.
+     =viage=, journey.
+     =wastel breed=, cake bread.
+     =wenden=, go.
+     =werre=, war.
+     =wight=, person.
+     =wiste=, knew.
+     =wood=, mad, foolish.
+     =wympel=, wimple.
+     =yaf=, gave.
+     =yeddynges=, gleemen's songs.
+     =yemanly=, yeoman-like.
+     =yerde=, stick.
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+1. =in the Ram.= In the constellation Aries. "There is a difference, in
+astronomy, between the _sign_ Aries and the _constellation_ Aries. In
+April the sun is theoretically in the sign Taurus, but visibly in the
+constellation Aries."--_Morris._
+
+2. =i-ronne.= Run. The prefix _i-_ or _y-_ is equivalent to the A.-S. or
+German _ge_, and usually denotes the past participle.
+
+3. =seeken.= The infinitive in early English ended in _n_, usually in
+_en_.
+
+4. =martir.= Thomas à Becket, who was slain at Canterbury in 1170. He was
+canonized by Pope Alexander III. as St. Thomas of Canterbury.
+
+5. =seeke.= Sick, ill. At the present time the English restrict the use of
+the word "sick" to nausea, and regard it in its original and broader
+signification as an "Americanism."
+
+6. =Tabard.= A tabard is "a jaquet or slevelesse coat worne in times past
+by noblemen in the warres, but now only by heraults. It is the signe of
+an inne in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the
+Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This is the hostelrie where Chaucer and the
+other pilgrims mett together and accorded about the manner of their
+journey to Canterbury."--_Speght._
+
+7. =stables.= Standing-places (Lat. _sto_, to stand); meaning here the
+public rooms of the inn.
+
+8. =Or.= Before, ere (A.-S. _aer_, ere). Compare Psalm xc. 2.
+
+9. =condicioun.= A word of four syllables, accented on the last.
+
+10. =chyvalrye.= The profession of a knight.
+
+11. =hethënesse.= Heathen countries. From _heath_, the open country. "The
+word _heathen_ acquired its meaning from the fact that, at the
+introduction of Christianity into Germany, the wild dwellers on the
+heaths longest resisted the truth."--_Trench._
+
+12. =Alisaundre.= Alexandria was taken in 1365 by Pierre de Lusignan,
+king of Cyprus, but was very soon abandoned.
+
+13. =he hadde the bord bygonne.= "He had been placed at the head of the
+table, the usual compliment to extraordinary merit."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+14. =Pruce.= Prussia. "When our military men wanted employment it was
+usual for them to go and serve in _Pruce_, or Prussia, with the Knights
+of the Teutonic order, who were in a state of constant warfare with
+their heathen neighbours in Lettow (Lithuania) and Ruse
+(Russia)."--_Tyrwhitt._
+
+15. =Gernade.= Grenada, probably at the siege of Algezir, in that country,
+in 1344. Belmarie was probably a Moorish town in Africa, as also was
+Tramassene, mentioned below. Lieys was in Armenia. Both it and Satalie
+(Attalia) were conquered by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367.
+
+16. =Greetë see.= That part of the Mediterranean which washes the coast of
+Palestine.
+
+17. =lord of Palatye.= A Christian knight who kept possession of his lands
+by paying tribute to the Turks.
+
+18. =no maner wight.= No sort of person. In early English the preposition
+was often omitted after _manner_. Observe the double negatives in these
+two lines.
+
+19. =bacheler.= "A soldier not old or rich enough to lead his relations
+into battle with a banner. The original sense of the word is _little_,
+_small_, _young_, from Welsh _bach_."--_Webster._
+
+20. =floytynge.= Fluting. So, in Chaucer's "House of Fame," he says:
+
+     "And many a floyte and litlyng horne,
+     And pipes made of grene corne."
+
+21. =he.= That is, the knight. The word _yeman_, or _yeoman_, is an
+abbreviation of _yeongeman_. As used by Chaucer, it means a servant of a
+rank above that of groom, but below that of squire. The present use of
+the word to signify a small landholder is of more modern origin.
+
+22. =pocok arwës.= Arrows tipped with peacock feathers.
+
+23. =bracer.= A kind of close sleeve laced upon the arm. "A bracer serveth
+for two causes, one to save his arme from the strype of the stringe, and
+his doublet from wearing; and the other is, that the stringe glidinge
+sharplye and quicklye off the bracer, maye make the sharper
+shoote."--_Roger Ascham's Toxophilus_, page 129.
+
+24. =Cristofre.= An image of St. Christopher, which was thought to protect
+its wearer from hidden danger.
+
+25. =seynt Loy.= St. Eloy, or Eligius.
+
+26. =of gret disport.= Fond of gayety.
+
+27. =men.= This word as here used is an indefinite pronoun equivalent to
+_one_, or _any one_.
+
+28. "Love conquers all things."
+
+29. =chapeleyne.= Probably _assistant_.
+
+30. =a fair for the maistryë.= A fair one for the chief place.
+
+31. "He would not give a pulled hen for that text"; that is, "he cared
+not a straw for it." Pulled = pylled = pilled = plucked.
+
+32. =waterles.= Out of water.
+
+33. =what.= Why, wherefore.
+
+34. =wood.= Mad. Scotch _wud_, wild.
+
+     "An' just as wud as wud can be."--_Burns._
+
+35. =no cost wolde he spare.= For this pleasure he spared no expense.
+
+36. "That shone like the fire under a cauldron."
+
+37. =lymytour.= One who was licensed to beg within a limited territory.
+
+38. =ordres foure.= The Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and
+the Augustine Friars.
+
+39. =post.= Pillar, support. Compare with the modern expression, "A pillar
+of the church."
+
+40. =frankeleyns.= Country gentlemen; wealthy landholders.
+
+41. =licentiat.= He had license from the pope to grant absolution in all
+cases. A curate's powers did not extend so far.
+
+42. "Where he knew he would have."
+
+43. See note 27, above.
+
+44. =sellers of vitaille.= Givers of food, or a livelihood. The original
+meaning of the word _sell_ was to _give_. From A.-S. _syllan_, to give.
+
+45. "In the beginning." The first words of St. John's Gospel in the
+Vulgate.
+
+46. =purchas.= Income from begging.
+
+47. =lovë-dayës.= Days appointed for the amicable settlement of
+differences, without recourse to law.
+
+48. "He wished the sea were guarded." =Middelburgh=, a port in the
+Netherlands. =Orëwelle=, a port in Essex.
+
+49. =scheeldës.= French crowns marked with a shield. Shillings.
+
+50. =Oxenford.= Not the "ford of the ox," but the "ford of the river."
+_Ox_, from Celtic _esk_, _ouse_, water.
+
+51. The word _right_ used, as here, in the sense of _very_ is now
+considered a vulgarism. "A Southerner would say, 'It rains right
+hard.'"--_Bartlett._
+
+52. =sawtryë.= Psaltery, a Greek instrument of music.
+
+53. =sownynge.= Sounding; that is, in consonance with. =Sentence=
+= sense. So, also, construe =forme= and =reverence=, above, as meaning
+_propriety and modesty_.
+
+
+ON READING CHAUCER.
+
+"'How few there are who can read Chaucer so as to understand him
+perfectly,' says Dryden, apologizing for 'translating' him. In our day,
+with the wider spread of historical study, with the numerous helps to
+Old English that the care of scholars has produced for us, with the
+purification that Chaucer's text has undergone, this saying of Dryden's
+ought not to be true. It ought to be not only possible, but easy, for an
+educated reader to learn the few essentials of Chaucerian grammar, and
+for an ear at all trained to poetry to tune itself to the unfamiliar
+harmonies. For those who make the attempt the reward is certain. They
+will gain the knowledge, not only of the great poet and creative genius,
+but of the master who uses our language with a power, a freedom, a
+variety, a rhythmic beauty, that, in five centuries, not ten of his
+successors have been found able to rival."--_T. H. Ward._
+
+The peculiarities of diction and grammar which distinguish Chaucer's
+poetry seem to make its reading and comprehension difficult and often
+discourage the student at the outset. A very little study, however, will
+show that the difficulties in the way are not nearly so great as they at
+first appear, and, after a little patient practice in reading, they will
+disappear entirely. By observing the following rules you will soon
+acquire the ability to read with a fluency which will be highly pleasing
+to you:
+
+1. Final _e_ should be pronounced as a separate syllable whenever the
+metre demands it.
+
+2. In all words of French origin, such as viságe, coráge, maniér, the
+final syllable is accented.
+
+The greatest difficulty in reading Chaucer arises from the antiquated
+manner in which the words are spelled; but if the reader will change an
+occasional _y_ to _i_, and drop a final _e_ or a final _n_, here and
+there, the words which seemed at first so strange will appear more
+familiar to the eye and the understanding.
+
+
+BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.
+
+GEOFFREY CHAUCER, "the morning-star of English poetry," was born in
+London in 1328,--according to some authorities, in 1340. He was the son
+of a vintner, and at an early age became acquainted with many persons of
+distinction. He was a page in the household of Prince Lionel, and
+afterwards valet and squire to Edward III. In 1372 he was sent abroad as
+a royal envoy, and on his return he was made Controller of the Customs
+In London. In the meantime he had married Philippa Rouet, one of the
+queen's maids of honor, a sister to the wife of John of Gaunt. Being
+thus closely related to one of the most powerful members of the royal
+family, he was often employed in important and honorable commissions
+connected with the government. In 1386 he was member of Parliament for
+Kent, and in 1389 was appointed Clerk of the King's Works, at Windsor.
+He died in 1400, and was buried in Westminster Abbey,--"the first of the
+long line of poets whose ashes make that edifice illustrious." His
+poetical history has been divided by Mr. Furnivall into four periods:
+(1) up to 1371, during which he wrote the "A B C" the "Compleynte to
+Pité," the "Boke of the Duchesse," and the "Compleynte of Mars"; (2)
+from 1372 to 1381, which saw the production of "Troylus and Criseyde,"
+"Anelida," and the "Former Age"; (3) from 1381 to 1389, during which his
+best works appeared, the "Parlament of Foules," the "House of Fame," the
+"Legende of Goode Women," and some of the "Canterbury Tales"; (4) from
+1389 to the close of his life, in which period the remainder of the
+"Canterbury Tales" and some short poems were written.
+
+M. Taine says, "Chaucer is like a jeweller with his hands full; pearls
+and glass beads, sparkling diamonds and common agates, black jet and
+ruby roses, all that history and imagination had been able to gather and
+fashion during three centuries in the East, in France, in Wales, in
+Provence, in Italy, all that had rolled his way, clashed together,
+broken or polished by the stream of centuries, and by the grand jumble
+of human memory, he holds in his hand, arranges it, composes therefrom a
+long sparkling ornament, with twenty pendants, a thousand facets, which
+by its splendor, variety, contrasts, may attract and satisfy the eyes of
+those most greedy for amusement and novelty."
+
+
+=Other Poems to be Read:= The Knight's Tale; The Clerk's Tale; The Man of
+Law's Tale; The Legende of Goode Women; The Parlament of Foules; The
+House of Fame; Chaucer's A B C.
+
+
+REFERENCES: Lowell's _My Study Windows_; Marsh's _Origin and History of
+the English Language_; Charles Cowden Clarke's _The Riches of Chaucer_;
+Morley's _English Writers_, vol. v; Carpenter's _English of the XIV
+Century_; Taine's _English Literature_; Lounsbury's _Studies in
+Chaucer_; Hazlitt's _English Poets_.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX TO NOTES.
+
+
+     accloyes, 234.
+
+     afoir, 282.
+
+     aft, 106.
+
+     Age of Gold, 79, 192.
+
+     Ajax, 147.
+
+     Akenside, Mark, 96.
+
+     amaist, 106.
+
+     ance, 106.
+
+     "Annus Mirabilis," 173.
+
+     antickes, 234.
+
+     Aonian, 208.
+
+     Apollo, 74.
+
+     apparelled, 46.
+
+     Arnold, Matthew, 16.
+
+     Arthur's Seat, 254.
+
+     Arvon, 136.
+
+     Ashtaroth, 194.
+
+     assay, 275.
+
+     assuasive, 154.
+
+     awfull, 189.
+
+     axle-tree, 189.
+
+     ay, 282.
+
+     Aytoun, William Edmondstoune, 16.
+
+
+     Baalim, 194.
+
+     Bacchus, 87, 166.
+
+     bairns, 105.
+
+     baldric, 25.
+
+     Ballads, 265.
+
+     Beattie, James, 96.
+
+     bede, 275.
+
+     bedight, 233.
+
+     beets, 105.
+
+     belyve, 106.
+
+     ben, 105.
+
+     bield, 109.
+
+     birkie, 110.
+
+     Blair, Robert, 96.
+
+     Blake, William, 96.
+
+     blate, 106.
+
+     blinkin, 106.
+
+     Boadicea, 114.
+
+     boding, 127.
+
+     bonnet, 105.
+
+     bracer, 299.
+
+     brae, 254.
+
+     braw, 106.
+
+     bray, 137.
+
+     Browne, William, 158.
+
+     Browning, Robert, 16.
+
+     Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 16.
+
+     brutish, 194.
+
+     Bulwer-Lytton, Robert, 16.
+
+     burn-side, 254.
+
+     Burns, Robert, 111.
+
+     busk, 254.
+
+     buskin, 139.
+
+     Butler, Samuel, 158.
+
+     Byron, Lord, 16.
+
+
+     ca', 105.
+
+     Cambria, 135.
+
+     Camelot, 24.
+
+     Camilla, 147.
+
+     Campbell, Thomas, 16.
+
+     cannie, 106.
+
+     Carew, Thomas, 158.
+
+     carking, 106.
+
+     castamergia, 271.
+
+     cataracts, 46.
+
+     Chapman, George, 216.
+
+     Chatterton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Chaucer, Geoffrey, 301.
+
+     Chepe, 275.
+
+     Christabel, 64.
+
+     Churchill, Charles, 96.
+
+     chyvalrye, 298.
+
+     claes, 106.
+
+     Clarius, 208.
+
+     close, 190.
+
+     Clough, Arthur Hugh, 16.
+
+     Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 65.
+
+     Collins, William, 96.
+
+     conceit, 145.
+
+     concern, 119.
+
+     consort, 192.
+
+     convoy, 106.
+
+     coof, 110.
+
+     coot, 27.
+
+     coronal, 47.
+
+     cotter, 104.
+
+     Cowley, Abraham, 158.
+
+     Cowper, William, 122.
+
+     Crabbe, George, 96.
+
+     cracks, 106.
+
+     Crashaw, Richard, 158.
+
+     craws, 106.
+
+     crew, 168.
+
+     Cristofre, 299.
+
+     crynis, 282.
+
+     Cynthia, 190.
+
+
+     dædal, 74.
+
+     Daniel, Samuel, 216.
+
+     Darius, 166.
+
+     darkling, 87.
+
+     Davenant, Sir William, 158.
+
+     Davies, Sir John, 216.
+
+     deid, 282.
+
+     Delphos, 193.
+
+     demi-gods, 154.
+
+     Denham, Sir John, 158.
+
+     denty, 281.
+
+     deposit, 105.
+
+     dicht, 282.
+
+     docht, 282.
+
+     Donne, John, 216.
+
+     Douglas, Gawain, 284.
+
+     dragon, 193.
+
+     Drayton, Michael, 216.
+
+     Drummond, William, 158.
+
+     dryad, 86.
+
+     Dryden, John, 175.
+
+     Dunbar, William, 283.
+
+     dusk, 24.
+
+     Dyer, John, 96.
+
+     dyght, 275.
+
+
+     effeires, 281.
+
+     Elysian, 79.
+
+     ene, 281.
+
+     Epipsychidion, 79.
+
+     ere, 189.
+
+     esperance, 278.
+
+     eydent, 106.
+
+     eyn, 195.
+
+
+     fallow, 281.
+
+     fassoun, 278.
+
+     Fates, 137.
+
+     Fauns, 73.
+
+     feid, 282.
+
+     fell, 106.
+
+     Fergusson, Robert, 96.
+
+     fit, 145.
+
+     Flamins, 194.
+
+     Fletcher, Giles, 158.
+
+     flichterin, 106.
+
+     floytynge, 299.
+
+     fois, 282.
+
+     fond, 139.
+
+     foreland, 27.
+
+     forgit, 281.
+
+     forgoes, 194.
+
+     frankeleyns, 300.
+
+     Fungoso, 146.
+
+     Furies, 167.
+
+
+     galaxy, 25.
+
+     garmond, 278.
+
+     gars, 106.
+
+     Garth, Samuel, 120.
+
+     Gascoigne, George, 216.
+
+     gauge, 127.
+
+     Gay, John, 96.
+
+     genius, 193.
+
+     gere, 275.
+
+     Gernadé, 299.
+
+     gife, 281.
+
+     glaiding, 282.
+
+     glinted, 109.
+
+     gloir, 282.
+
+     Gloster, 136.
+
+     Glover, Richard, 96.
+
+     Goldsmith, Oliver, 128.
+
+     governance, 278.
+
+     gowd, 110.
+
+     Gower, John, 286.
+
+     grant, 282.
+
+     Gray, Thomas, 139.
+
+     gree, 110, 282.
+
+     Green, Matthew, 96.
+
+     Greene, Robert, 216.
+
+     greete, 275.
+
+     griesly, 137.
+
+     grisly, 194.
+
+     gross, 174.
+
+     guerdoun, 282.
+
+
+     ha'-bible, 105.
+
+     haffets, 106.
+
+     hafflins, 106.
+
+     halcyons, 79.
+
+     Hall, Joseph, 216.
+
+     hals-ribbane, 278.
+
+     halsit, 281.
+
+     Hammon, 194.
+
+     harbinger, 188.
+
+     hauberk, 135.
+
+     haut-boys, 166.
+
+     Hawes, Stephen, 268.
+
+     hawkie, 105.
+
+     Henryson, Robert, 283.
+
+     Herbert, George, 158.
+
+     Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, 158.
+
+     hern, 27.
+
+     Herrick, Robert, 202.
+
+     Hesperus, 80.
+
+     hethenesse, 298.
+
+     hinges, 191.
+
+     Hippocrene, 86.
+
+     histie, 109.
+
+     Hoel, 136.
+
+     hoiss, 278.
+
+     Hood, Thomas, 16.
+
+     Howard, Henry, 252.
+
+     hud, 278.
+
+     Hunt, Leigh, 16.
+
+     hyed, 275.
+
+     hymeneal, 71.
+
+
+     ilk, 282.
+
+     influence, 189.
+
+     ingle, 106.
+
+     Ionian, 79.
+
+     ipocras, 271.
+
+     i-ronne, 298.
+
+     Isis, 194.
+
+     its, 190.
+
+     Ixion, 154.
+
+
+     Japhet, 209.
+
+     Johnson, Samuel, 96.
+
+     jollity, 46.
+
+     Jonson, Ben, 213.
+
+
+     Keats, John, 93.
+
+     kebbuck, 106.
+
+     key, 174.
+
+     Kingsley, Charles, 16.
+
+     kirtill, 278.
+
+     kye, 105.
+
+
+     laif, 281.
+
+     Lamb, Charles, 16.
+
+     Landor, Walter Savage, 16.
+
+     Langland, William, 286.
+
+     lasit, 278.
+
+     lathefu', 106.
+
+     lave, 106.
+
+     lawn, 189.
+
+     lays, 104.
+
+     lemys, 281.
+
+     lesum, 278.
+
+     Lethe, 86.
+
+     letted, 173.
+
+     licentiate, 300.
+
+     lichtlie, 254.
+
+     Lodge, Thomas, 216.
+
+     love-days, 300.
+
+     Lovelace, Richard, 158.
+
+     Lucifer, 80, 189.
+
+     lufe, 278.
+
+     lukit, 281.
+
+     lyart, 106.
+
+     Lydgate, John, 283.
+
+     Lydian, 167.
+
+     Lyly, John, 216.
+
+     lymytour, 300.
+
+     lyst, 275.
+
+
+     Macaulay, Thomas B., 16.
+
+     Mænalus, 74.
+
+     maiden (_adj._), 188.
+
+     mailyheis, 278.
+
+     mansuetude, 281.
+
+     Marlowe, Christopher, 216.
+
+     martir, 298.
+
+     Marvell, Andrew, 158.
+
+     May, 47.
+
+     mede, 275.
+
+     mekill, 282.
+
+     mend, 146.
+
+     "Meredith, Owen," 16.
+
+     Milnes, Richard Monckton, 16.
+
+     Milton, John, 195.
+
+     moil, 106.
+
+     Moore, Thomas, 16.
+
+     morrow, 281.
+
+     Mortimer, 136.
+
+     mould, 192.
+
+     muddir, 281.
+
+     Mulciber, 234.
+
+     Muses, 153.
+
+
+     neibor, 105.
+
+     noise, 190.
+
+     numbers, 147.
+
+
+     Occleve, Thomas, 268.
+
+     or, 189, 298.
+
+     oracles, 193.
+
+     organs, 168.
+
+     Orpheus, 154.
+
+     Orus, 194.
+
+     Oxenford, 300.
+
+     Osiris, 195.
+
+
+     pad, 24.
+
+     Palatye, 299.
+
+     Pan, 190.
+
+     pansy, 47.
+
+     pansing, 278.
+
+     paramour, 80, 188.
+
+     pards, 87.
+
+     Parnassus, 146.
+
+     Parnell, Thomas, 96.
+
+     passing, 126.
+
+     patelet, 278.
+
+     peir, 282.
+
+     Peneus, 73, 243.
+
+     penny-fee, 105.
+
+     Peor, 194.
+
+     pescodes, 275.
+
+     philargyria, 271.
+
+     Phlegethon, 154.
+
+     pies, 208.
+
+     pine (_v._), 71.
+
+     Plinlimmon, 136.
+
+     plum, 120.
+
+     Pope, Alexander, 155.
+
+     pourall, 282.
+
+     prevent, 188.
+
+     Procter, Adelaide, 16.
+
+     Procter, Bryan Waller, 16.
+
+     profuse, 71.
+
+     Prothalamion, 241.
+
+     Provençal, 86.
+
+     Pruce, 299.
+
+     puissance, 282.
+
+
+     quality, 147.
+
+     quhen, 281.
+
+     quhois, 281.
+
+     quhome, 282.
+
+     quhyll, 281.
+
+
+     Raleigh, Sir Walter, 216.
+
+     Ramsay, Allan, 96.
+
+     reedes (_v._), 233.
+
+     reid, 282.
+
+     requiem, 87.
+
+     rewth, 278.
+
+     Rhodope, 155.
+
+     Robin Hood, 265.
+
+     rois, 281, 282.
+
+     rutty, 242.
+
+     ryshes, 275.
+
+
+     sacerdotal, 106.
+
+     Sackville, Thomas, 216.
+
+     Saint Agnes, 93.
+
+     Saint Cecilia, 168.
+
+     salvage, 233.
+
+     sanct, 282.
+
+     Sandys, George, 158.
+
+     sark, 278.
+
+     sawtrye, 300.
+
+     scho, 278.
+
+     schone, 278.
+
+     Scott, Sir Walter, 16.
+
+     seeke, 298.
+
+     seeken, 298.
+
+     seeliest, 212.
+
+     seill, 278.
+
+     seraphim, 191.
+
+     session, 193.
+
+     set, 278.
+
+     Shakespeare, William, 221.
+
+     Shelley, Percy B., 81.
+
+     shend, 244.
+
+     Shenstone, William, 96.
+
+     sic, 281.
+
+     sickerness, 278.
+
+     Sidney, Philip, 216.
+
+     Sileni, 73.
+
+     silly, 190.
+
+     Simoïs, 174.
+
+     simonia, 271.
+
+     Sisyphus, 154.
+
+     site, 282.
+
+     Skelton, John, 272.
+
+     skylark, 71.
+
+     Snowdon, 135.
+
+     socks, 213.
+
+     sort, 146.
+
+     Southey, Robert, 16.
+
+     sovran, 189.
+
+     sowninge, 300.
+
+     sowpe, 106.
+
+     sparks, 146.
+
+     spede, 275.
+
+     speiris, 281.
+
+     Spenser, Edmund, 245.
+
+     sphear, 188.
+
+     spiers, 106.
+
+     splene, 281.
+
+     spread, 193.
+
+     sprite, 71.
+
+     stables, 298.
+
+     stacher, 106.
+
+     stage, 48.
+
+     Star Chamber, 271.
+
+     steep, 119.
+
+     store, 243.
+
+     stoure, 109.
+
+     strook, 190.
+
+     Styx, 154.
+
+     Suckling, Sir John, 158.
+
+     sugh, 104.
+
+     Surrey, Earl of, 252.
+
+     Swan of Avon, 213.
+
+     swindges, 193.
+
+     Sylvans, 73.
+
+     Syrinx, 74.
+
+
+     Tabard, 298.
+
+     tabor, 46.
+
+     Taliessin, 138.
+
+     Tennyson, Alfred, 35.
+
+     tentie, 106.
+
+     tepat, 278.
+
+     terms, 127.
+
+     Thais, 166.
+
+     Thammuz, 194.
+
+     tholl, 278.
+
+     Thomson, James, 96.
+
+     thorps, 27.
+
+     thrissil, 281.
+
+     till, 282.
+
+     Timotheus, 147, 166.
+
+     "tirra lirra," 25.
+
+     Titans, 241.
+
+     Tmolus, 73.
+
+     toil, 104.
+
+     trailed, 24.
+
+     train, 104.
+
+     trump, 192.
+
+     turtle, 188.
+
+     tynis, 282.
+
+     Typhon, 195.
+
+
+     udir, 281.
+
+     uncos, 106.
+
+     undersong, 244.
+
+     unexpressive, 191.
+
+
+     Vaughan, Henry, 158.
+
+     vermeil, 243.
+
+
+     wales, 106.
+
+     Waller, Edmund, 205.
+
+     Warner, William, 216.
+
+     warp, 137.
+
+     Warton, Thomas, 96.
+
+     Watson, Thomas, 216.
+
+     weet, 109.
+
+     weid, 281.
+
+     weiris, 281.
+
+     weit, 278.
+
+     weltering, 191.
+
+     which, 245.
+
+     whilome, 234.
+
+     whist, 189.
+
+     wicht, 282.
+
+     wight, 233.
+
+     wilding, 51.
+
+     wiles, 106.
+
+     wisards, 188.
+
+     wit, 145.
+
+     Wither, George, 158.
+
+     wold, 24.
+
+     wonne, 234.
+
+     wont, 187.
+
+     wood, 300.
+
+     Wordsworth, William, 52.
+
+     wrought, 71.
+
+     Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 252.
+
+
+     ychain'd, 192.
+
+     yede, 275.
+
+     yode, 233.
+
+     Young, Edward, 96.
+
+     youngling, 106.
+
+     'yont, 106.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+
+Ellipses match the original.
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the orginal.
+
+The following words use an oe ligature in the original:
+
+     Boeotia       Phoenicia
+     Meliboeus     Phoenicians
+     Oeagrus
+
+The following corrections have been made to the text:
+
+     Page 79: Dante's _Vita Nuova_.[original has extraneous
+     quotation mark]
+
+     Page 81: full age of man, he might not[original has extraneous
+     comma] improbably
+
+     Page 124: Near yonder copse, where once the garden
+     smiled,[original has superscripted 1 at the end of the line]
+
+     Page 146: _Shakespeare_, _King Lear_, Act i[original has ii]
+     sc. i.
+
+     Page 146: versification of the "Faerie Queene," page
+     232[original has 234]
+
+     Page 303: chyvalrye[original has chyvalyre], 298.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Six Centuries of English Poetry, by James Baldwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Six Centuries of English Poetry
+       Tennyson to Chaucer
+
+Author: James Baldwin
+
+Release Date: October 11, 2009 [EBook #30235]
+
+Language: EN
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Lisa Reigel, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div class="notebox">
+<p>Transcriber's Notes: Some typographical and punctuation errors have been
+corrected. A complete <a href="#TN">list</a> as well as other notes follows the text.</p>
+
+<p>Click on the page number to see an image of the page.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="gap"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>[<a href="./images/1.png">1</a>]</span></p>
+<p class="p4"><span class="u">Select English Classics</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH<br />
+POETRY</h1>
+
+<h2>TENNYSON TO CHAUCER</h2>
+
+<h3><i>TYPICAL SELECTIONS FROM THE GREAT<br />
+POETS</i></h3>
+
+
+<p class="gap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h2>JAMES BALDWIN, <span class="smcap">Ph.D.</span></h2>
+
+<h5><span class="smcap">Author of "The Book Lover"</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">etc., etc.</span></h5>
+
+
+<p class="biggap">&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>SILVER, BURDETT &amp; COMPANY</h3>
+<h4><span class="smcap">New York</span> .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. BOSTON .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. <span class="smcap">Chicago</span></h4>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[<a href="./images/2.png">2</a>]</span></p>
+<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright</span> 1892,</h4>
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> SILVER, BURDETT &amp; COMPANY.</h3>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>[<a href="./images/3.png">3</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>PUBLISHERS' NOTE.</h2>
+
+<p>This is the first volume of a series of <span class="smcap">Select English Classics</span> which
+the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an
+extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of
+English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in
+schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens
+from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose;
+selections from English dramatic literature, especially of the
+eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; choice extracts from the writings
+of the great essayists; selections from famous English allegories; a
+volume of elegies and elegiacal poetry; studies of English prose
+fiction, with illustrative specimens, etc. Each volume will contain
+copious notes, critical, explanatory, and biographical, besides the
+necessary vocabularies, glossaries, and indexes; and the series when
+complete will present a varied and comprehensive view of all that is
+best in English literature. For supplementary reading, as well as for
+systematic class instruction, the books will possess many peculiarly
+valuable as well as novel features; while their attractive appearance,
+combined with the sterling quality of their contents, will commend them
+for general reading and make them desirable acquisitions for every
+library.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>[<a href="./images/4.png">4</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO TEACHERS AND STUDENTS.</h2>
+
+<p>There is but one study more interesting than the history of literature,
+and that is the study of literature itself. That the former should often
+be mistaken for the latter is scarcely to be wondered at when we
+consider the intimate and almost indivisible relationship existing
+between them. Yet, in truth, they are as capable of separate
+consideration as are music and the history of music.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Anglo-Saxon Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>Any careful investigation of the history of English poetry would
+naturally begin at a point of time some six or seven hundred years
+earlier than that of Chaucer. From such investigation we should learn
+that even as early as the ninth century&mdash;perhaps, indeed, the
+eighth&mdash;there were in England some composers of verse in the Anglo-Saxon
+tongue; that the songs of these poets were chiefly of religion or of
+war, and that being written in a language very different from our modern
+English they can scarcely be considered as belonging properly to our
+literature; that among them, however, is a noble poem, "Beowulf," the
+oldest epic of any modern people, which was probably sung or recited by
+pagan minstrels long before it was written down in permanent form; that,
+after the conquest of England by the Normans, the early language of the
+<span class="sidenote">The Transition Period.</span>English people underwent a long and tedious process of transition,&mdash;a
+blending, in a certain sense, with the Latinized and more polished
+tongue of their conquerors,&mdash;and that the result was the language which
+we now call English and are proud to claim as our own; that it was about
+three hundred years after the Norman Conquest, namely, in 1362, that
+this new tongue was officially recognized and authorized to be used in
+the courts at law throughout the land; and that about the same time
+Geoffrey Chaucer composed and wrote his first poems. We should learn,
+moreover, that, during the transition period mentioned above, there were
+many attempts at writing poetry, resulting in the production of tedious
+metrical romances (chiefly translated from the French) and interminable
+rhyming chronicles, pleasing, of course, to the people of that time, but
+wholly devoid of poetic <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[<a href="./images/5.png">5</a>]</span>excellence and unspeakably dull to modern
+readers; that these poems, so called, were little better than rhymed
+doggerels, written in couplets of eight-syllabled lines and having for
+their subjects the miraculous deeds of saints and heroes and the
+occurrence of supernatural or impossible phenomena; that the composers
+of these metrical romances and chronicles, although giving free rein to
+the imagination, were utterly destitute of poetic fancy and hence
+produced no true poetry; that, nevertheless, some writer was now and
+then inspired by a flash of real poetic fire, producing a few lines of
+remarkable freshness and beauty,&mdash;little lyrics shining forth like gems
+in the great mass of verbiage and rubbish and foretelling the glorious
+possibilities which were to be realized in the future.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Piers Ploughman.</div>
+
+<p>Continuing this most interesting study, we should learn that just at the
+time that Chaucer was beginning the composition of his immortal works,
+there appeared an allegorical poem of considerable length, so earnest in
+tone, so richly imaginative, so full of picturesque descriptions, that
+it seemed rather a fulfilment than a prophecy; that this poem&mdash;called
+"The Vision of William concerning Piers Ploughman," and written by an
+obscure monk whose name was probably William Langland&mdash;was the greatest
+poem and the most popular that had ever been written in England, and yet
+that it failed in many ways of being true English poetry: its metre was
+irregular, and its rhythm was imperfect; its verses instead of rhyming
+were constructed in accordance with certain rules of alliteration; its
+subjects, while interesting, no doubt, to those for whom it was written,
+were not such as bring into play the highest powers of the imagination
+or incite the poetic fancy to its noblest flights. Then we should learn
+that while the ink from good Langland's pen was yet scarcely dry after
+his third revision of "Piers Ploughman," Geoffrey Chaucer came forward
+with his sweet imaginings bodied in immortal verse, his tuneful numbers,
+his "well of English undefiled,"&mdash;and English poetry, which now for more
+than five centuries has been the chief glory of our literature, had its
+true beginning.</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Three Schools of Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>Pursuing the study on lines which would now be more distinctly marked,
+we should observe that Chaucer's best poetry, as well as that of the
+poets who followed him in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was
+distinguished by its truthfulness to nature, by its expression in hearty
+and harmonious words of the finer emotions of the soul, and by the
+freedom and elasticity of its versification. We should learn that in the
+seventeenth century this style of poetry&mdash;sometimes called the
+romantic&mdash;was succeeded by another and very different <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>[<a href="./images/6.png">6</a>]</span>fashion in poetic
+composition, introduced into England in imitation of continental and
+classical models: that this new style of versification&mdash;ignoring nature
+and making everything subservient to art&mdash;was purely artificial,
+characterized by "an oratorical pomp, a classical correctness, a
+theatrical dressing, abundance of moralizing"; and that, with Waller for
+its sponsor and Dryden and Pope for its high priests, it remained for a
+century and a half the favorite of the literary world, the model of
+poetic diction, the standard of poetic taste. We should learn that,
+towards the end of the eighteenth century, certain writers began to
+perceive that although attention to artistic rules in composition may be
+necessary to the best poetry, yet natural feeling, a cultivated
+imagination, and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations
+are even more indispensable; that these writers, rebelling against the
+established order of things, taught that there are elements of true
+poetry in the popular ballads of earlier times, that even the wearisome
+metrical romances of the Middle Ages are rich in suggestiveness and in
+materials for a nobler poetry, and that, instead of going to the
+classics and to society for subjects and models, the poet may find them
+in nature, in the life which is about him, and in a thousand sources
+never before suspected. Finally, we should learn that, at the very time
+when great revolutions in politics and philosophy were being
+inaugurated, a new spirit thus began to manifest itself in our
+literature,&mdash;a spirit of revolt against artificial restrictions and
+traditional methods,&mdash;which produced a glorious revival in English
+poetic composition and ushered in a third great school of poetry,
+distinguished for its breadth and freedom, as that which it superseded
+had been known for its elegance and precision.<a name="FNanchor_6:1_1" id="FNanchor_6:1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6:1_1" class="fnanchor">[6:1]</a></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">The History of English Poetry.</div>
+
+<p>A study of the development of English poetry such as we have outlined
+above would involve a knowledge of the history of the English people and
+of the various circumstances and events which from time to time
+influenced our language and literature. It would also embrace many other
+topics, biographical, philological, rhetorical, and speculative, which
+have only a secondary relationship to the central idea of poetry. In
+fact, it would be a study not of poetry, but about poetry,&mdash;of the
+circumstances which suggested it, of the men who produced it, and of the
+origin of the word-forms and methods of versification which distinguish
+it. Such a study, altogether interesting and eminently profitable though
+it be, should not be undertaken by any student until he has acquired an
+extensive <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[<a href="./images/7.png">7</a>]</span>personal acquaintance with poetry itself. We may enjoy the
+beautiful creations of Tennyson, of Shelley, of Burns, even of Chaucer,
+without knowing one word of the history of poetry, without so much as
+knowing the names of the writers or the circumstances under which they
+wrote. But, on the other hand, to him who knows nothing of the
+masterpieces of our literature, save at second hand, the history of
+English letters must of necessity be dull, uninteresting, and often
+unintelligible. While to him who has prepared himself for its study by
+fitting himself for an appreciation of these noble creations and
+becoming thoroughly imbued with their spirit, what a field of delightful
+study does it offer!</p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Object of this Book.</div>
+
+<p>The object of the present compilation is to aid in this preparatory
+work,&mdash;that is, to offer a plan for promoting the study <span class="smcap">of</span> poetry before
+the broader but less important study <span class="smcap">about</span> poetry is undertaken. To this
+end we present for the student's consideration a few representative
+poems written at different times and by men of widely different tastes
+and talents during the six centuries which may be said to have elapsed
+since the formation of the modern English tongue. Our chief aim is to
+lead to such a study of these selections as shall help the reader to
+perceive and appreciate their true poetic qualities and enter into full
+sympathy with the thoughts and feelings which their writers intended to
+express. <span class="sidenote">Methods of Study.</span> The first object to be sought in the study of these poems is
+the perception of those characteristic excellences which have made them
+universally admired and placed them among the classics of our language.
+To accomplish this object rationally and successfully, it is best to
+begin with those productions which are nearest to us in point of time
+and which are more in harmony with our own thoughts, and therefore
+easiest to understand and enjoy. An attempt to pursue these studies in
+chronological order, beginning with the works of Chaucer and the older
+poets, would oblige the student to encounter at the outset so many
+purely mechanical difficulties that he would fail to discern the
+spiritual qualities of truth, beauty, and goodness, which are the very
+essence of all genuine poetry. He would very naturally acquire a
+distaste for poetry long before he was able to understand it, and while
+he might attain to some considerable knowledge of the history of
+poetical literature, that literature itself would remain to him
+practically a sealed book. Hence, in the study of this subject, as in
+that of other branches, the true method is to present first that which
+is the least difficult, to "proceed from the known to the unknown," to
+begin with that which is near at hand and from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[<a href="./images/8.png">8</a>]</span>it to proceed to the
+consideration of things more remote. Not only are the most of Tennyson's
+poems easily understood, but their beauty is readily apparent even to
+the most superficial readers. By the time we have read and extracted all
+the sweets from three or four of these, we shall be prepared to go a
+step farther and undertake the study of Wordsworth's immortal
+productions,&mdash;productions but little more difficult and but little less
+poetic. Thus, step by step, we may review the six centuries of English
+poetry which lie behind, and when at last we reach the time of Chaucer
+we shall be able to take hold of his works with understanding and with
+the zest which is begotten of true sympathy and appreciation. After the
+book has been thus completed, it may be well to run through it again,
+reversing the order of the lessons and this time considering the
+subjects in strict chronological order. Our first study of the book will
+have introduced us to English poetry, our second study of it will have
+given us some insight into the history of its development.</p>
+
+<p>It is well to remember, while pursuing this course, that a taste for
+poetry is not acquired or fostered by an analysis of grammatical forms
+or by any study of words merely as such. To analyze a puzzling sentence
+or to trace the derivation of an interesting word to its roots sometimes
+helps one to understand a difficult expression or to perceive in it a
+meaning hitherto unsuspected; but to make the study of any selection
+consist largely of exercises of this kind is to substitute grammar or
+philology for literature. So, also, should it be borne in mind that
+while it is often interesting and sometimes necessary to become
+acquainted with certain details relative to the life of an author&mdash;the
+date of his birth, the character of his education, the influences which
+shaped his life and his work&mdash;yet such knowledge belongs to biography
+and is in no sense literature. The study of authors should never be
+substituted for the study of their works, and is usually profitable only
+so far as it helps the student to understand the peculiarities which
+distinguish those works and which are the result of certain personal
+characteristics. And yet it is no uncommon thing to find students
+acquainted with the minutest particulars in the lives of the great
+writers, while of the masterpieces of thought and expression, which are
+the glory of our literature, they betray a deplorable ignorance. Nor is
+this the case with pupils at school alone. "For once that we take down a
+Milton, and read a book of that 'voice,' as Wordsworth says, 'whose
+sound is like the sea,' we take up fifty times a magazine with something
+about Milton, or about Milton's grandmother, or a book stuffed with
+curious facts <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[<a href="./images/9.png">9</a>]</span>about the houses in which he lived, and the juvenile
+ailments of his first wife."<a name="FNanchor_9:1_2" id="FNanchor_9:1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_9:1_2" class="fnanchor">[9:1]</a></p>
+
+<div class="sidenote">Practical Suggestions.</div>
+
+<p>In the study of the selections contained in this volume, the following
+method is recommended:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>1. The piece should be thoroughly committed to memory.</p>
+
+<p>2. It should be recited or read by each member of the class in such
+manner as to bring out, if possible, his understanding of the meaning of
+every passage.</p>
+
+<p>3. Study the poem as a whole, and let each pupil point out the beauties
+of thought or expression which distinguish it as a poetical composition.</p>
+
+<p>4. Now study each stanza, or each independent thought, in its order, and
+endeavor to understand each word or expression just as the poet intended
+that it should be understood. The Notes appended to most of the
+selections are intended rather to suggest the line of study in this
+regard than to serve as exhaustive aids. The pupil should, so far as
+possible, investigate for himself and make his own discoveries.
+Questions concerning the derivation of words and the syntax of sentences
+are to be discussed only so far as they will aid in the understanding of
+some passage or of the piece as a whole.</p>
+
+<p>5. Learn some of the most important facts connected with the author's
+life. What were the conditions under which he wrote this piece? What was
+the character of his education and of the other influences which shaped
+his life and distinguished his works? Learn what some of the leading
+critics have said concerning his works as a poet.</p>
+
+<p>6. Finally, read the poem again, as a whole, and discuss its qualities
+as a work of literary art, and again point out its distinctive beauties
+and characteristic excellences.</p>
+
+<p>The extracts given at the beginning of each Century will serve to keep
+in mind the leading peculiarities which distinguished the poetry of each
+period; and the lists of poets and their works will be found valuable
+for purposes of reference. Before beginning the study of the selections
+both teacher and pupils should read this Introduction carefully.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6:1_1" id="Footnote_6:1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6:1_1"><span class="label">[6:1]</span></a> See the quotation from Taine, page <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9:1_2" id="Footnote_9:1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9:1_2"><span class="label">[9:1]</span></a> Frederic Harrison: <i>On the Choice of Books</i>.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[<a href="./images/10.png">10</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="table of contents" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="2" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="3">PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdright" colspan="3"><span style="font-size: 70%;">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Introduction</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Nineteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Eighteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Seventeenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Sixteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Fifteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">The Fourteenth Century</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Index</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="3">POEMS.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Alfred Tennyson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Lady of Shalott</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Brook</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Wordsworth:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 3em;">Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Two April Mornings</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td style="width: 5%;">&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Solitary Reaper</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By S. T. Coleridge:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Christabel. Part I</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Percy Bysshe Shelley:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To a Skylark</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Hymn of Pan</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From Epipsychidion</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>[<a href="./images/11.png">11</a>]</span><span class="smcap">By John Keats:</span>&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Ode to a Nightingale</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From The Eve of St. Agnes</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Burns:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Cotter's Saturday Night</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To a Mountain Daisy</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">For a' that and a' that</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Cowper:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Boadicea</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Epitaph on a Hare</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Oliver Goldsmith:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Village Parson</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Village Schoolmaster</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Thomas Gray:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Bard</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Alexander Pope:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From the Essay on Criticism</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Ode on St. Cecilia's Day</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Dryden:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Alexander's Feast</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Fire of London</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Reason and Religion</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Milton:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Morning of Christ's Nativity</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Wordsworth's Sonnet to Milton</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Herrick:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Phillis</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Mad Maid's Song</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Thanksgiving to God</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Edmund Waller:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Song: Go, lovely Rose</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Of English Verse</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On a Girdle</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Ben Jonson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">An Ode to Himself</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Cynthia</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To the Memory of William Shakespeare</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Herrick's Ode for Ben Jonson</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[<a href="./images/12.png">12</a>]</span><span class="smcap">By William Shakespeare:</span>&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Venus's Advice to Adonis on Hunting</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Morning Song for Imogen</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sigh no more, Ladies</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sunshine and Cloud (Sonnet xxxiii.)</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The World's Way (Sonnet lxvi.)</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Edmund Spenser:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Cave of Mammon</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Prothalamion; or, a Spousall Verse</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Thomas Wyatt:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Love Song</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Courtier's Life</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By the Earl of Surrey:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From Virgil's &AElig;neid</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sonnet: Geraldine</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">On the Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">Ballads:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Waly, waly</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Sir Patrick Spens</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Robin Hood and the Widow's three Sons</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Skelton:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">To Maystress Margaret Hussey</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">Cardinal Wolsey</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By John Lydgate:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A Visit to London</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Golden Age</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Robert Henryson:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">The Garmond of Fair Ladies</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By William Dunbar:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">A May Morning</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Gawain Douglas:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">In Praise of Honour</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdlsc" colspan="2">By Geoffrey Chaucer:&mdash;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td>&nbsp;</td>
+  <td class="tdleft">From the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales</td>
+  <td class="tdright"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[<a href="./images/13.png">13</a>]</span></p>
+<h1>SIX CENTURIES OF ENGLISH POETRY.</h1>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>[<a href="./images/14.png">14</a>]</span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[<a href="./images/15.png">15</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Nineteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>Now appeared the English romantic school, a sect of 'dissenters in
+poetry,' who spoke out aloud, kept themselves close together, and
+repelled settled minds by the audacity and novelty of their theories.
+They had violently broken with tradition, and leaped over all classical
+culture, to take their models from the Renaissance and the middle-age.
+They sought, in the old national ballads and ancient poetry of foreign
+lands, the fresh and primitive accent which had been wanting in
+classical literature, and whose presence seemed to them to be a sign of
+truth and beauty. They proposed to adapt to poetry the ordinary language
+of conversation, such as is spoken in the middle and lower classes, and
+to replace studied phrases and a lofty vocabulary by natural tones and
+plebeian words. In place of the classic mould, they tried stanzas,
+sonnets, ballads, blank verse, with the roughness and subdivisions of
+the primitive poets.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Some had culled gigantic legends, piled up
+dreams, ransacked the East, Greece, Arabia, the Middle Ages, and
+overloaded the human imagination with hues and fancies from every clime.
+Others had buried themselves in metaphysics and moral philosophy, had
+mused indefatigably on the condition of man, and spent their lives on
+the sublime and the monotonous. Others, making a medley of crime and
+heroism, had conducted, through darkness and flashes of lightning, a
+train of contorted and terrible figures, desperate with remorse,
+relieved by their grandeur. Men wanted to rest after so many efforts and
+so much success. On the going out of the imaginative, sentimental, and
+Satanic school, Tennyson appeared exquisite. All the forms and ideas
+which had pleased them were found in him, but purified, modulated, set
+in a splendid style. He completed an age.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[<a href="./images/16.png">16</a>]</span></p>
+<h3><i>Poets of the Nineteenth Century.</i></h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Wordsworth</b> (1770-1850). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Walter Scott</b> (1771-1832). "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"; "The Lady
+of the Lake"; "Marmion"; "The Lord of the Isles"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</b> (1772-1834). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Southey</b> (1774-1843). "Thalaba"; "Roderick, the last of the
+Goths"; "Joan of Arc"; "Madoc"; "The Curse of Kehama"; numerous short
+poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Lamb</b> (1775-1834). Chiefly short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Walter Savage Landor</b> (1775-1864). "Gebir"; and other poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Campbell</b> (1777-1844). "Gertrude of Wyoming"; "The Pleasures of
+Hope"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Moore</b> (1779-1852). "Irish Melodies"; "Lalla Rookh"; "Rhymes on
+the Road"; "The Loves of the Angels," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Leigh Hunt</b> (1784-1859). "Francesca Rimini"; "A Legend of Florence";
+"Stories in Verse," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Bryan Waller Procter</b> ("Barry Cornwall") (1787-1874). "A Sicilian Story";
+"English Songs," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Byron</b> (George Gordon Noel) (1788-1824). "Childe Harold"; "The
+Giaour"; "Bride of Abydos"; "The Corsair"; "Lara"; "Hebrew Melodies";
+"Siege of Corinth"; "Parisina"; "Manfred"; "Don Juan," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Percy Bysshe Shelley</b> (1792-1822). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Keats</b> (1795-1821). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Hood</b> (1799-1845). Numerous short poems, chiefly humorous.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Macaulay</b> (1800-1859). "Lays of Ancient Rome."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</b> (1809-1861). "Prometheus Bound"; "Casa Guidi
+Windows"; "Sonnets from the Portuguese"; "Aurora Leigh"; "Poems before
+Congress"; "Last Poems."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Alfred Tennyson</b> (Lord Tennyson) (1809-&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Monckton Milnes</b> (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885). "Historical Poems";
+"Poetry for the People"; "Poems of Many Years."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Browning</b> (1812-1889). "Christmas Eve and Easter Day"; "Men and
+Women"; "The Ring and the Book"; "Balaustion's Adventure"; "Fifine at
+the Fair"; "Aristophanes' Apology," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Edmondstoune Aytoun</b> (1813-1865). "Lays of the Scottish
+Cavaliers"; "Ballads of Scotland," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Arthur Hugh Clough</b> (1819-1861). "The Bothie"; "Ambarvalia," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Kingsley</b> (1819-1875). "Andromeda"; many short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Matthew Arnold</b> (1822-1889). "The Strayed Reveller and other Poems";
+"Balder."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Adelaide Anne Procter</b> (1825-1864). "Legends and Lyrics"; "A Chaplet of
+Verses."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Bulwer-Lytton</b> ("Owen Meredith") (1831-1892). "Lucile"; "Marah,"
+etc.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[<a href="./images/17.png">17</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Alfred Tennyson.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE LADY OF SHALOTT.</h2>
+
+<h3>PART I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On either side the river lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long fields of barley and of rye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That clothe the wold<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1" class="marker">1</a> and meet the sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the fields the road runs by<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To many-towered Camelot<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2" class="marker">2</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And up and down the people go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazing where the lilies blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round an island there below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The island of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Willows whiten, aspens quiver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little breezes dusk<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3" class="marker">3</a> and shiver<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the wave that runs forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the island in the river<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flowing down to Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four gray walls, and four gray towers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Overlook a space of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the silent isle imbowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By the margin, willow-veiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slide the heavy barges, trailed<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[<a href="./images/18.png">18</a>]</span><span class="i0">By slow horses; and unhailed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shallop flitteth silken-sailed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Skimming down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who hath seen her wave her hand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the casement seen her stand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is she known in all the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lady of Shalott?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Only reapers, reaping early<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In among the bearded barley,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear a song that echoes cheerly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the river winding clearly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down to towered Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the moon the reaper weary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Piling sheaves in uplands airy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listening, whispers, "'Tis the fairy<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lady of Shalott."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There she weaves by night and day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A magic web<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5" class="marker">5</a> with colors gay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She has heard a whisper say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A curse is on her if she stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To look down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knows not what the curse may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so she weaveth steadily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And little other care hath she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And moving through a mirror clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hangs before her all the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadows of the world appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[<a href="./images/19.png">19</a>]</span><span class="i0">There she sees the highway near<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Winding down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There the river-eddy whirls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there the surly village-churls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the red cloaks of market girls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pass onward from Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An abbott on an ambling pad,<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or long-haired page in crimson clad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Goes by to towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometimes through the mirror blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The knights come riding two and two:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She hath no loyal knight and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But in her web she still delights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To weave the mirrored magic sights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For often through the silent nights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A funeral, with plumes and lights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And music, went to Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, when the moon was overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came two young lovers lately wed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I am half-sick of shadows," said<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rode between the barley-sheaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun came dazzling through the leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flamed upon the brazen greaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of bold Sir Lancelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[<a href="./images/20.png">20</a>]</span><span class="i0">A red-cross<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8" class="marker">8</a> knight forever kneeled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a lady in his shield<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sparkled on the yellow field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The gemmy bridle glittered free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like to some branch of stars we see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hung in the golden Galaxy.<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bridle-bells rang merrily<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from his blazoned baldric<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10" class="marker">10</a> slung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty silver bugle hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as he rode his armor rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All in the blue unclouded weather<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The helmet and the helmet-feather<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burned like one burning flame together,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As often through the purple night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Below the starry clusters bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some bearded meteor,<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11" class="marker">11</a> trailing light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Moves over still Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From underneath his helmet flowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His coal-black curls as on he rode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the bank and from the river<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He flashed<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12" class="marker">12</a> into the crystal mirror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Tirra lirra," by the river<a name="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13" id="marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13"></a><a href="#Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sang Sir Lancelot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[<a href="./images/21.png">21</a>]</span><span class="i0">She left the web, she left the loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She made three paces through the room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw the water-lily bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw the helmet and the plume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She looked down to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out flew the web and floated wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mirror cracked from side to side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The curse is come upon me," cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>PART IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the stormy east-wind straining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pale yellow woods were waning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broad stream in his banks complaining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavily the low sky raining<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Over towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down she came and found a boat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a willow left afloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round about the prow she wrote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And down the river's dim expanse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like some bold se&euml;r in a trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeing all his own mischance&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a glassy countenance<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Did she look to Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the closing of the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She loosed the chain, and down she lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broad stream bore her far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lying, robed in snowy white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That loosely flew to left and right&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[<a href="./images/22.png">22</a>]</span><span class="i0">The leaves upon her falling light&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the noises of the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She floated down to Camelot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the boat-head wound along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The willowy hills and fields among,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They heard her singing her last song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heard a carol, mournful, holy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till her blood was frozen slowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her eyes were darkened wholly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turned to towered Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ere she reached upon the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The first house by the water-side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing in her song she died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Under tower and balcony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By garden-wall and gallery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gleaming shape she floated by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A corse between the houses high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Silent into Camelot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out upon the wharfs they came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knight and burgher, lord and dame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round the prow they read her name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who is this? and what is here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the lighted palace near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Died the sound of royal cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they crossed themselves for fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All the knights at Camelot;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>[<a href="./images/23.png">23</a>]</span><span class="i0">But Lancelot mused a little space;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "She has a lovely face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God in his mercy lend her grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lady of Shalott."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1832. Considered as a picture, or as a series
+of pictures, its beauty is unsurpassed. The story which is here so
+briefly told is founded upon a touching legend connected with the
+romance of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Tennyson
+afterwards (in 1859) expanded it into the <i>Idyll</i> called "Elaine,"
+wherein he followed more closely the original narrative as related by
+Sir Thomas Malory.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Lancelot was the strongest and bravest of the Knights of the Round
+Table, and for him Elaine, "the fair maid of Astolat," conceived a
+hopeless passion. "Her love was platonic and pure as that of a child,
+but it was masterful in its strength." Having learned that Lancelot was
+pledged to celibacy, she pined away and died. But before her death she
+called her brother, and having dictated a letter which he was to write,
+she spake thus:</p>
+
+<p>"'While my body is whole, let this letter be put into my right hand, and
+my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be put in
+a fair bed with all my richest clothes that I have about me, and so let
+my bed and all my rich clothes be laid with me in a chariot to the next
+place whereas the Thames is, and there let me be put in a barge, and but
+one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barge
+be covered with black samite over and over.' .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. So when she was dead,
+the corpse and the bed and all was led the next way unto the Thames, and
+there all were put in a barge on the Thames, and so the man steered the
+barge to Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro, or
+any man espied."<a name="FNanchor_23:A_3" id="FNanchor_23:A_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_23:A_3" class="fnanchor">[23:A]</a> At length the King and his Knights, coming down
+to the waterside, and seeing the boat and the lily maid of Astolat, they
+uplifted the hapless body of Elaine, and bore it to the hall.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Most noble Lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I, sometime called the maid of Astolat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Come, for you left me taking no farewell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Hither, to take my last farewell of you.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>[<a href="./images/24.png">24</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">I loved you, and my love had no return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And therefore my true love has been my death.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pray for my soul and yield me burial.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pray for my soul thou too Sir Lancelot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As thou art a knight peerless.'"<a name="FNanchor_24:A_4" id="FNanchor_24:A_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_24:A_4" class="fnanchor">[24:A]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And so the maid was buried, "not as one unknown, nor meanly, but with
+gorgeous obsequies, and mass and rolling music, like a queen. And the
+story of her dolorous voyage was blazoned on her tomb in letters gold
+and azure."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_1"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_1">1.</a> <b>wold.</b> An open tract of hilly country, where but few trees are left.
+This word is more frequently used, however, to designate a forest or
+thick wood.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_2"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_2">2.</a> <b>Camelot.</b> It is supposed that this Camelot was Winchester. It was the
+seat of King Arthur's court, and visitors are still shown the remains of
+what appear to have been certain kinds of intrenchments, which the
+inhabitants call "King Arthur's Palace." Sir Thomas Malory says: "Sir
+Ballin's sword was put into marble stone, standing it upright as a great
+millstone, and it swam down the stream to the city of Camelot, that is,
+in English, Wincheste." There was another Camelot, also King Arthur's
+capital, on the river Camel, in Cornwall, to which Shakespeare makes
+reference in <i>King Lear</i>, II, ii. Tennyson, in "Gareth and Lynette,"
+describes the appearance of the city when approached in the early
+morning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Far off they saw the silver-misty morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That rose between the forest and the field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At times the summit of the high city flash'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At times the spires and turrets half-way down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Prick'd thro' the mist; at times the great gate shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Only, that open'd on the field below:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_3"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_3">3.</a> <b>dusk.</b> Produce a ruffled surface. A very rare use of this word. The
+river referred to is probably the Thames.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_4"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_4">4.</a> <b>trailed.</b> Lat. <i>traho</i>, to draw; Dutch <i>treilen</i>, to tow. What picture
+is presented to the imagination in the first five lines of this stanza?
+How do the barges differ in appearance and movement from the shallop
+mentioned two lines below?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_5"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_5">5.</a> <b>web.</b> Anything woven. <b>stay.</b> Stop.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_6"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_6">6.</a> <b>pad.</b> An easy-going saddle-horse; a palfrey. Describe the picture
+which is presented in this stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_7"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_7">7.</a> Explain the meaning of the Lady's exclamation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>[<a href="./images/25.png">25</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_8"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_8">8.</a> <b>red-cross knight.</b> A Knight wearing a red cross. One of King Arthur's
+Knights. The red-cross Knight in Spenser's <i>Faerie Queene</i> symbolizes
+holiness.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And dead, as living ever, him ador'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_9"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_9">9.</a> <b>Galaxy.</b> The milky-way. Gr. <i>gala</i>, <i>galaktos</i>, milk.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_10"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_10">10.</a> <b>baldric.</b> A belt thrown over the shoulder. From Lat. <i>balteus</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_11"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_11">11.</a> <b>bearded meteor.</b> A shooting-star emitting rays of light in the
+direction in which it moves. The beard of a comet is the light which it
+throws out in front of it, in distinction from the tail or rays behind.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_12"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_12">12.</a> <b>He flashed.</b> His image was thrown upon and reflected from.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13" id="Note_Lady_of_Shalott_13"></a><a href="#marker_Lady_of_Shalott_13">13.</a> "<b>Tirra lirra.</b>" French <i>tire lire</i>. Probably intended to imitate the
+note of the lark.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23:A_3" id="Footnote_23:A_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23:A_3"><span class="label">[23:A]</span></a> Malory's King Arthur, Part III.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24:A_4" id="Footnote_24:A_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24:A_4"><span class="label">[24:A]</span></a> Tennyson's Elaine.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BROOK.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I come from haunts of coot<a name="marker_The_Brook_1" id="marker_The_Brook_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_1" class="marker">1</a> and hern,<a name="marker_The_Brook_2" id="marker_The_Brook_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I make a sudden sally,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sparkle out among the fern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To bicker<a name="marker_The_Brook_3" id="marker_The_Brook_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_3" class="marker">3</a> down a valley.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By thirty hills I hurry down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or slip between the ridges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By twenty thorps,<a name="marker_The_Brook_4" id="marker_The_Brook_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_4" class="marker">4</a> a little town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And half a hundred bridges.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Till last by Philip's farm I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[<a href="./images/26.png">26</a>]</span><span class="i0">I chatter over stony ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In little sharps and trebles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I bubble into eddying bays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I babble on the pebbles.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With many a curve my banks I fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By many a field and fallow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a fairy foreland<a name="marker_The_Brook_5" id="marker_The_Brook_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_5" class="marker">5</a> set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With willow-weed and mallow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I wind about, and in and out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With here a blossom sailing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here and there a lusty trout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here and there a grayling,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And here and there a foamy flake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon me, as I travel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many a silvery waterbreak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the golden gravel,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And draw them all along, and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I slide by hazel<a name="marker_The_Brook_6" id="marker_The_Brook_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_6" class="marker">6</a> covers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That grow for happy lovers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[<a href="./images/27.png">27</a>]</span><span class="i0">I slip, I slide, I gloom,<a name="marker_The_Brook_7" id="marker_The_Brook_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_7" class="marker">7</a> I glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Among my skimming swallows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I make the netted sunbeams dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against my shady shallows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I murmur under moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In brambly wildernesses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I linger by my shingly<a name="marker_The_Brook_8" id="marker_The_Brook_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Brook_8" class="marker">8</a> bars;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I loiter round my cresses;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And out again I curve and flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To join the brimming river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For men may come and men may go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I go on forever.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This little lyric forms a part of "an idyl" of the same title, published
+in 1855. The poet introduces it in the following manner:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Here, by this brook, we parted; I to the East<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And he to Italy&mdash;too late&mdash;too late:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;. Yet the brook he loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;.&nbsp;&nbsp;. seems, as I re-listen to it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To me that loved him; for, 'O brook,' he says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">'I come from haunts of coot and hern,'" etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In reading this poem, observe how strikingly the sound is made to
+correspond to the sense.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Brook_1" id="Note_The_Brook_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_1">1.</a> <b>coot.</b> A wild water-fowl, resembling the duck.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_2" id="Note_The_Brook_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_2">2.</a> <b>hern.</b> Heron.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_3" id="Note_The_Brook_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_3">3.</a> <b>bicker.</b> To move unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_4" id="Note_The_Brook_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_4">4.</a> <b>thorps.</b> Small villages. A. S. <i>thorpe</i>. From Ger. <i>trupp</i>, a troop.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_5" id="Note_The_Brook_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_5">5.</a> <b>foreland.</b> A promontory.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_6" id="Note_The_Brook_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_6">6.</a> <b>hazel covers.</b> Hazel thickets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_7" id="Note_The_Brook_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_7">7.</a> <b>gloom.</b> Glimmer, shine obscurely.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Brook_8" id="Note_The_Brook_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Brook_8">8.</a> <b>shingly.</b> Gravelly.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[<a href="./images/28.png">28</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE LOTOS-EATERS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the afternoon they came unto a land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which it seemed always afternoon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All round the coast the languid air did swoon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like a downward smoke, the slender stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some through wavering lights and shadows broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They saw the gleaming river seaward flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The charmed sunset lingered low adown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was seen far inland, and the yellow down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And meadow, set with slender galingale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A land where all things always seemed the same!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round about the keel with faces pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>[<a href="./images/29.png">29</a>]</span><span class="i0">Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To each, but whoso did receive of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taste, to him the gushing of the wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And music in his ears his beating heart did make.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They sat them down upon the yellow sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the sun and moon upon the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of child and wife, and slave; but evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then some one said, "We will return no more;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all at once they sang, "Our island home<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 30%;" />
+<h2>CHORIC SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is sweet music here that softer falls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than petals from blown roses on the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or night-dews on still waters between walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here are cool mosses deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thro' the moss the ivies creep,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[<a href="./images/30.png">30</a>]</span><span class="i0">And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And utterly consumed with sharp distress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all things else have rest from weariness?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things have rest: why should we toil alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We only toil, who are the first of things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make perpetual moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still from one sorrow to another thrown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever fold our wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cease from wanderings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"There is no joy but calm!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lo! in the middle of the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With winds upon the branch, and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grows green and broad, and takes no care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sun-steeped at noon, and in the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falls, and floats adown the air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! sweetened with the summer light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drops in a silent autumn night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All its allotted length of days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flower ripens in its place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[<a href="./images/31.png">31</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hateful is the dark-blue sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vaulted o'er the dark-blue sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death is the end of life; ah, why<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should life all labour be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in a little while our lips are dumb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. What is it that will last?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things are taken from us, and become<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us alone. What pleasure can we have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To war with evil? Is there any peace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In ever climbing up the climbing wave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With half-shut eyes ever to seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falling asleep in a half-dream!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dream and dream, like yonder amber light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear each other's whispered speech;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eating the Lotos day by day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tender curving lines of creamy spray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lend our hearts and spirits wholly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To muse and brood and live again in memory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With those old faces of our infancy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaped over with a mound of grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[<a href="./images/32.png">32</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dear the last embraces of our wives<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their warm tears: but all hath suffered change;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For surely now our household hearths are cold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or else the island-princes over-bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before them of the ten-years' war in Troy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there confusion in the little isle?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let what is broken so remain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gods are hard to reconcile:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis hard to settle order once again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There <i>is</i> confusion worse than death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long labour unto aged breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, propped on beds of amaranth and moly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With half-dropped eyelids still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a heaven dark and holy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the long bright river drawing slowly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His waters from the purple hill&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear the dewy echoes calling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To watch the emerald-coloured water falling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>[<a href="./images/33.png">33</a>]</span><span class="i0">Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only to hear were sweet, stretched out beneath the pine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lotos blows by every winding creek:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We have had enough of action, and of motion we,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>[<a href="./images/34.png">34</a>]</span><span class="i0">Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they perish and they suffer&mdash;some, 'tis whispered, down in hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>"Thence for nine whole days was I borne by ruinous winds over the
+teeming deep; but on the tenth day we set foot on the land of the
+lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. So we stepped ashore and drew
+water, and straightway my company took their mid-day meal by the swift
+ships. Now when we had tasted meat and drink, I sent forth certain of my
+company to go and make search of what manner of men they were who here
+live upon the earth by bread, and I chose out two of my fellows, and
+sent a third with them as herald. Then straightway they went and mixed
+with the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters
+devised not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste.
+Now whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no
+more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to abide
+with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful of
+his homeward way. Therefore I led them back to the ships weeping, and
+sore against their will, and dragged them beneath the benches, and bound
+them in the hollow barques. But I commanded the rest of my well-loved
+company to make speed and go on board the swift ships, lest haply any
+should eat of the lotus and be forgetful of returning."&mdash;<i>Homer's
+Odyssey</i>, ix, 80.</p>
+
+<p>"In this poem, 'The Lotos-Eaters,' the artistic ideal of the young poet
+(it was written in 1830) found its most finished expression and its
+culminating point. Here he seems to have attained a consciousness that
+beyond the ideal which he had adopted there is another, larger, grander,
+and more satisfying. Nowhere else, perhaps, in the range of poetry, is
+the trance of a listless life so harmoniously married to appropriate
+melodies and appropriate accompaniments."&mdash;<i>North British Review.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[<a href="./images/35.png">35</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alfred Tennyson</span> was born at Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, in 1809.
+His early education was received at home from his father, who was rector
+of Somersby and vicar of Bennington and Grimsby. He was afterwards sent
+to Trinity College, Cambridge, where, at the age of twenty, he received
+the chancellor's medal for a poem in blank verse, entitled "Timbuctoo."
+In 1830 he published a small volume of "Poems chiefly Lyrical." A
+revised edition of this volume, published in 1833, contained "The Lady
+of Shalott," "The Lotos-Eaters," and others of his best-known short
+poems. In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed
+poet-laureate. In the same year he was married to Emily, daughter of
+Henry Sellwood, Esq., and niece of Sir John Franklin. Since 1851,
+Tennyson has resided for the greater part of the time at Farringford,
+Freshwater, Isle of Wight. In December, 1883, he was made Baron Tennyson
+of Aldworth and Freshwater.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Tennyson," says R. H. Hutton, "was an artist even before he was a
+poet; in other words, the eye for beauty, grace, and harmony of effect
+was even more emphatically one of his original gifts than the voice for
+poetic utterance itself. This, probably, it is which makes his very
+earliest pieces appear so full of effort, and sometimes even so full of
+affectation. They were elaborate attempts to embody what he saw, before
+the natural voice of the poet had come to him. I think it possible to
+trace not only a pre-poetic period in his art, but to date the period at
+which the soul was 'infused' into his poetry, and the brilliant external
+figures became the dwelling-places of germinating poetic thoughts
+creating their own music. Curiously enough, the first poem where there
+is any trace of those musings of the Round Table to which he has
+directed so much of his maturest genius, is also a confession that the
+poet was sick of the magic mirror of fancy and its picture-shadows, and
+was turning away from them to the poetry of human life. Whenever Mr.
+Tennyson's pictorial fancy has had it in any degree in its power to run
+away with the guiding and controlling mind, the richness and the
+workmanship have to some extent overgrown the spiritual principle of his
+poems. It is obvious, for instance, that even in relation to natural
+scenery, what his poetical faculty delights in most are rich, luxuriant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[<a href="./images/36.png">36</a>]</span>landscapes, in which either nature or man has accumulated a lavish
+variety of effects. It is in the scenery of the mill, the garden, the
+chase, the down, the rich pastures, the harvest-field, the palace
+pleasure-grounds, the Lord of Burleigh's fair domains, the luxuriant
+sylvan beauty, bearing testimony to the careful hand of man, 'the summer
+crisp with shining woods,' that Mr. Tennyson most delights. If he strays
+to rarer scenes, it is almost in search of richer and more luxuriant
+loveliness, like the tropical splendors of 'Enoch Arden' and the
+enervating skies which cheated the Lotos-Eaters of their longing for
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Tennyson," says a writer in the <i>North British Review</i>, "deserves
+an especial study, not only as a poet, but as a leader and a landmark of
+popular thought and feeling. As a poet, he belongs to the highest
+category of English writers; for poetry is the strongest and most
+vigorous branch of English literature. In this literature his works are
+evidently destined to secure a permanent place; for they express in
+language refined and artistic, but not unfamiliar, a large segment of
+the popular thought of the period over which they range. He has,
+moreover, a clearly marked if not strongly individualized style, which
+has served as a model for imitators, and as a starting-point for poets
+who have sought to improve upon it."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Principal Poems of Tennyson:</b> Charge of the Light Brigade, written in
+1854; Dora, 1842; The Dying Swan, 1830; Enoch Arden, 1864; Idylls of the
+King, 1859-1873,&mdash;to be read in the following order: The Coming of
+Arthur; Gareth and Lynette; Geraint and Enid; Merlin and Vivien;
+Lancelot and Elaine; The Holy Grail; Pelleas and Ettarre; The Last
+Tournament; Guinevere; The Passing of Arthur;&mdash;In Memoriam, 1850 (131
+parts); Locksley Hall, 1842; Locksley Hall Sixty Years Afterwards, 1886;
+Maud, 1855 (3 parts); The Princess, 1847 (7 parts); Ode on the Death of
+the Duke of Wellington, 1852.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">Dramatic Pieces:</span> Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876; The Cup, 1881; The
+Falcon, 1882; Becket, 1884; The Foresters: Robin Hood and Maid Marian,
+1892.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Stedman's <i>Victorian Poets</i>; Van Dyke's <i>The Poetry of
+Tennyson</i>; Taine's <i>History of English Literature</i>, vol. IV; Kingsley's
+<i>Miscellanies</i>; Elsdale's <i>Studies in the Idylls</i>; Buchanan's <i>Master
+Spirits</i>; Tainsh's <i>Studies in Tennyson</i>; Hutton's <i>Essays</i>; Chapman's
+<i>Companion to In Memoriam</i>; Walters's <i>In Tennyson Land</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[<a href="./images/37.png">37</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Wordsworth.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality" id="Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality"></a>ODE.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poemind"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Child is father<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" class="marker">1</a> of the Man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth, and every common sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To me did seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Apparelled<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" class="marker">2</a> in celestial light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory and the freshness of a dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not now as it hath been of yore;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Turn wheresoe'er I may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By night or day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The things which I have seen I now can see no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The rainbow comes and goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And lovely is the rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The moon doth with delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look round her when the heavens are bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[<a href="./images/38.png">38</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Waters on a starry night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are beautiful and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sunshine is a glorious birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But yet I know, where'er I go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And while the young lambs bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As to the tabor's<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" class="marker">3</a> sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me alone there came a thought of grief:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A timely utterance gave that thought relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I again am strong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cataracts<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" class="marker">4</a> blow their trumpets from the steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear the echoes<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" class="marker">5</a> through the mountains throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all the earth is gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Land and sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give themselves up to jollity,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with the heart of May<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Doth every beast keep holiday.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou child of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd-boy!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye to each other make; I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My heart is at your festival.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My head hath its coronal,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fulness of your bliss, I feel&mdash;I feel it all.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[<a href="./images/39.png">39</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">Oh evil day if I were sullen<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While Earth herself is adorning<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">This sweet May morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the children are culling<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">On every side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In a thousand valleys far and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fresh flowers, while the sun shines warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the babe leaps up<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" class="marker">10</a> on his mother's arm:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&mdash;But there's a tree,<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" class="marker">11</a> of many, one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A single field which I have looked upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both of them speak of something that is gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The pansy<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" class="marker">12</a> at my feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Doth the same tale repeat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither is fled the visionary gleam?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is it now, the glory and the dream?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our birth is but a sleep<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" class="marker">13</a> and a forgetting:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soul that rises with us, our life's star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hath had elsewhere its setting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And cometh from afar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not in entire forgetfulness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And not in utter nakedness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But trailing clouds of glory do we come<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From God, who is our home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven lies about us in our infancy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shades of the prison-house begin to close<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon the growing boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He sees it in his joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youth, who daily farther from the East<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Must travel, still is nature's priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[<a href="./images/40.png">40</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">And by the vision splendid<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is on his way attended;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length the man perceives it die away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fade into the light of common day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even with something of a mother's mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And no unworthy aim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The homely nurse doth all she can<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make her foster-child, her inmate man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Forget the glories he hath known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that imperial palace whence he came.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold the child<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" class="marker">14</a> among his new-born blisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A six years' darling of a pigmy size!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With light upon him from his father's eyes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See at his feet some little plan or chart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some fragment from his dream of human life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shaped by himself with newly-learned art&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A wedding or a festival,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A mourning or a funeral;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And this hath now his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And unto this he frames his song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Then will he fit his tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dialogues of business, love, or strife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But it will not be long<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ere this be thrown aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And with new joy and pride<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[<a href="./images/41.png">41</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">The little actor cons another part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the persons, down to palsied age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Life brings with her in her equipage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As if his whole vocation<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Were endless imitation.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy soul's immensity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, best philosopher, who yet dost keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mighty prophet! seer blest!<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On whom those truths do rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which we are toiling all our lives to find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, over whom thy immortality<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A presence which is not to be put by;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou little child, yet glorious in the might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The years to bring the inevitable yoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And custom lie upon thee with a weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O joy, that in our embers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is something that doth live,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>[<a href="./images/42.png">42</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">That nature yet remembers<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What was so fugitive!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thought of our past years in me doth breed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perpetual benediction: not indeed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that which is most worthy to be blest&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delight and liberty, the simple creed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not for these I raise<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The song of thanks and praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But for those obstinate questionings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of sense and outward things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fallings from us, vanishings;<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blank misgivings<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" class="marker">18</a> of a creature<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moving about in worlds not realized,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High instincts before which our mortal nature<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But for those first affections,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Those shadowy recollections,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which, be they what they may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are yet the fountain light of all our day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are yet a master light of all our seeing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our noisy years seem moments in the being<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To perish never;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor man nor boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor all that is at enmity with joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can utterly abolish or destroy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hence in a season of calm weather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Though inland far we be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our souls have sight of that immortal sea<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[<a href="./images/43.png">43</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Which brought us hither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can in a moment travel thither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see the children sport upon the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>X.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then sing, ye birds! sing, sing a joyous song!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And let the young lambs bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As to the tabor's sound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We in thought will join your throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ye that pipe and ye that play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ye that through your hearts to-day<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Feel the gladness of the May!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though the radiance which was once so bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be now forever taken from my sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though nothing can bring back the hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We will grieve not, rather find<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Strength in what remains behind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the primal sympathy<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which, having been, must ever be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the soothing thoughts that spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Out of human suffering;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the faith that looks through death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In years that bring the philosophic mind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forebode not any severing of our loves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only have relinquished one delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live beneath your more habitual sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love the brooks, which down their channels fret,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[<a href="./images/44.png">44</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Even more than when I tripped lightly as they:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The innocent brightness of a new-born day<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is lovely yet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clouds that gather round the setting sun<a name="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" id="marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19"></a><a href="#Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do take a sober coloring from an eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another race hath been, and other palms are won.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thanks to the human heart by which we live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me the meanest flower that blows can give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This was composed," says Wordsworth, "during my residence at Town-End,
+Grasmere (1803-1806). Two years at least passed between the writing of
+the first four stanzas and the remaining part. To the attentive and
+competent reader the whole sufficiently explains itself, but there may
+be no harm in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my
+own mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was
+more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of death as
+a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5h">'A simple child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lightly draws its breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feels its life in every limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What should it know of death?'<a name="FNanchor_44:A_5" id="FNanchor_44:A_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_44:A_5" class="fnanchor">[44:A]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that <i>my</i>
+difficulty came, as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
+within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
+almost persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I should
+be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a feeling
+congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external things as
+having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as
+something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
+Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
+recall myself from this abyss of idealism to reality. At that time I was
+afraid of mere processes. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[<a href="./images/45.png">45</a>]</span>In later periods of life I have deplored, as
+we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and
+have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
+<i>Obstinate questionings</i>, etc. To that dream-like vividness and splendor
+which invests objects of sight in childhood every one, I believe, if he
+could look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
+here; but having in the poem regarded it as a presumptive evidence of a
+prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
+conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
+meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
+recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
+immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
+advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
+fall of man presents an analogy in its favor. Accordingly, a
+pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
+and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
+ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
+the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
+felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his mind? Having to
+wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on the
+'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as
+having sufficient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for
+my purpose the best use of it I could as a poet."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Houghton says of this poem: "If I am asked what is the greatest
+poem in the English language, I never for a moment hesitate to say,
+Wordsworth's 'Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.'"</p>
+
+<p>Principal Shairp says: "'The Ode on Immortality' marks the highest limit
+which the tide of poetic inspiration has reached in England within this
+century, or indeed since the days of Milton."</p>
+
+<p>The idea of the pre-existence of the soul had already been treated by
+Henry Vaughan in "Silex Scintillans" (1655).</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Happy those infant days, when I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shined in my angel-infancy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Before I understood this place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Appointed for my second race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Or taught my soul to fancy aught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But a white, celestial thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When yet I had not walked above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A mile or two from my first Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And looking back at that short space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Could see a glimpse of his bright face."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Shelley, in "A Lament," hints at the same thought:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O world! O life! O time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">On whose last steps I climb,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[<a href="./images/46.png">46</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1i">Trembling at that where I had stood before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When will return the glory of your prime?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">No more&mdash;oh, never more!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Out of the day and night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A joy has taken flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">No more&mdash;oh, never more!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_1"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_1">1.</a> <b>The child is father, etc.</b> These lines are from a short poem by
+Wordsworth, entitled "My Heart leaps up":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My heart leaps up when I behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">A rainbow in the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So was it when my life began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So is it now I am a man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So be it when I shall grow old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Or let me die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The child is father of the man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Bound each to each by natural piety."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Compare with Milton's lines in 'Paradise Regained,' Bk. IV:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"The childhood shows the man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As morning shows the day."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_2"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_2">2.</a> <b>apparelled.</b> From Fr. <i>pareil</i>, Lat. <i>parilis</i>. Other English words as
+<i>pair</i>, <i>compare</i>, etc., are similarly derived. To <i>apparel</i> is strictly
+to pair, to suit, to put like to like.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_3"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_3">3.</a> <b>tabor.</b> From Old Fr. <i>tabour</i>, Fr. <i>tambour</i>. Compare Eng.
+<i>tambourine</i>. Originally from the root <i>tap</i>, Gr. <i>tup</i>, to strike
+lightly. An ancient musical instrument,&mdash;a small one-ended drum having a
+handle projecting from the frame, by which it was held in the left hand,
+while it was beaten with a stick held in the right hand.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_4"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_4">4.</a> <b>the cataracts.</b> The poet has probably in mind the "ghills" or falls of
+his own lake country. The metaphor which he uses is a bold one.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_5"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_5">5.</a> <b>the echoes.</b> Compare with a similar line by Shelley:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Adonais</i>, 127.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_6"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_6">6.</a> <b>the fields of sleep.</b> "The yet reposeful, slumbering country
+side."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i> "The fields that were dark during the hours of
+sleep."&mdash;<i>Knight.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_7"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_7">7.</a> <b>jollity.</b> Merriment. From Lat. <i>jovialis</i>. See Milton's 'L'Allegro,'
+26:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Haste thee nymph and bring with thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Jest and youthful jollity."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[<a href="./images/47.png">47</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_8"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_8">8.</a> <b>May.</b> May, with the poets, is the month of gayety. The older poetry
+especially is full of May raptures. Chaucer says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For May will have no sluggardy a-night:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The season pricketh every gentle heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And maketh him out of his sleep to start."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_9"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_9">9.</a> <b>coronal.</b> A crown of flowers, a chaplet. As at the Roman banquets. On
+such occasions it was usual for the host to give chaplets to his guests.
+Festoons of flowers were also sometimes hung over their necks and
+breasts. The chaplet, or coronal, was regarded as a cheerful ornament
+and symbol of festivity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_10"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_10">10.</a> <b>the babe leaps up.</b> That is for joy. See the poem, "My heart leaps
+up," on page <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_11"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_11">11.</a> <b>there's a tree.</b> Compare this thought with that contained in the
+following lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Only, one little sight, one plant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. whene'er the leaf grows there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Its drop comes from my heart, that's all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Browning's May and Death.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_12"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_12">12.</a> <b>pansy.</b> The flower of thought. From Fr. <i>pens&eacute;e</i>, thought; <i>penser</i>,
+to think. "It probably derived its name, thought or fancy, from its
+fanciful appearance."&mdash;<i>Nares.</i> Another derivation of the word is from
+<i>panacea</i>, meaning <i>all-heal</i>, a name given by the Greeks to a plant
+which was popularly supposed to cure diseases and dispel sorrow. The
+notion that the pansy is a cure for grief is shown in its common English
+name, <i>heart's-ease</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_13"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_13">13.</a> <b>Our birth is but a sleep.</b> The idea of pre-existence was a favorite
+one of the ancient philosophers. The doctrine of metempsychosis, a form
+of the same idea, was held by the ancient Egyptians and is still
+maintained by the Buddhists. Tennyson says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As old mythologies relate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some draught of Lethe might await<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The slipping through from state to state.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And if I lapsed from nobler place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some legend of a fallen race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Alone might hint of my disgrace."&mdash;<i>Two Voices.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_14"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_14">14.</a> <b>Behold the child.</b> Pope gives a similar picture:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A little louder, but as empty quite."&mdash;<i>Essay on Man.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>[<a href="./images/48.png">48</a>]</span>
+When Wordsworth wrote of</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A six years' darling of a pigmy size,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>he probably had in mind Hartley Coleridge, who was then a child of that
+age. See his poem "To Hartley Coleridge, Six Years Old."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_15"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_15">15.</a> <b>humorous stage.</b> See Shakespeare's lines beginning "All the world's a
+stage," "As You like It," Act ii, sc. 7. The word <i>humorous</i> has here a
+special sense, such as is used by Ben Jonson in his "Every Man in his
+Humor."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_16"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_16">16.</a> <b>best philosopher .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. mighty prophet! seer blest!</b> Stopford Brooke
+says: "These expressions taken separately have scarcely any recognizable
+meaning. By taking them all together, we feel rather than see that
+Wordsworth intended to say that the child, having lately come from a
+perfect existence, in which he saw truth directly, and was at home with
+God, retains, unknown to us, that vision;&mdash;and, because he does, is the
+best philosopher, since he sees at once that which we through philosophy
+are endeavoring to reach; is the mighty prophet, because in his actions
+and speech he tells unconsciously the truths he sees, but the sight of
+which we have lost; is more closely haunted by God, more near to the
+immortal life, more purely and brightly free because he half shares in
+the pre-existent life and glory out of which he has come."&mdash;<i>Theology in
+the English Poets.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_17"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_17">17.</a> <b>Fallings from us, vanishings.</b> "Fits of utter dreaminess and
+abstraction, when nothing material seems solid, but everything mere mist
+and shadow."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_18"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_18">18.</a> <b>Blank misgivings.</b> Compare Tennyson, "Two Voices":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Moreover, something is or seems,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That touches me with mystic gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Like glimpses of forgotten dreams;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Of something felt, like something here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of something done, I know not where;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Such as no language may declare."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19" id="Note_Intimations_of_Immortality_19"></a><a href="#marker_Intimations_of_Immortality_19">19.</a> <b>The clouds that gather.</b> Compare these lines with the following from
+Wordsworth's "Excursion":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">"Ah! why in age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do we revert so fondly to the walks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her own native vigor, thence can hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reverberations and a choral song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commingling with the incense that ascends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undaunted toward the imperishable heavens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her own lonely altar?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44:A_5" id="Footnote_44:A_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44:A_5"><span class="label">[44:A]</span></a> The first stanza of We are Seven, said to have been
+written by Coleridge.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[<a href="./images/49.png">49</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We walked along, while bright and red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uprose the morning sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Matthew<a name="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" id="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" class="marker">1</a> stopped, he looked, and said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'The will of God be done!'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A village schoolmaster was he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hair of glittering gray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As blithe a man as you could see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a spring holiday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And on that morning, through the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the steaming rills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We travelled merrily, to pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A day among the hills.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Our work,' said I, 'was well begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, from thy breast what thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath so beautiful a sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sad a sigh has brought?'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A second time did Matthew stop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fixing still his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the eastern mountain-top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me he made reply:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brings fresh into my mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A day like this which I have left<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full thirty years behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[<a href="./images/50.png">50</a>]</span><span class="i0">And just above yon slope of corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such colors, and no other,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were in the sky, that April morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this the very brother.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With rod and line I sued the sport<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which that sweet season gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to the church-yard come, stopped short<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside my daughter's grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nine summers had she scarcely seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pride of all the vale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then she sang;&mdash;she would have been<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A very nightingale.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Six feet in earth my Emma lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet I loved her more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For so it seemed, than till that day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I e'er had loved before.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, turning from her grave, I met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the churchyard yew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A blooming girl, whose hair was wet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With points of morning dew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A basket on her head she bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her brow was smooth and white:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see a child so very fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was a pure delight!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No fountain from its rocky cave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'er tripped with foot so free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She seemed as happy as a wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dances on the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[<a href="./images/51.png">51</a>]</span><span class="i0">There came from me a sigh of pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which I could ill confine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I looked at her, and looked again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And did not wish her mine!'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Matthew is in his grave, yet now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methinks, I see him stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As at that moment, with a bough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wilding<a name="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" id="marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" class="marker">2</a> in his hand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1799, and published the following year.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1" id="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_1">1.</a> <b>Matthew.</b> This old schoolmaster is described elsewhere by Wordsworth
+as being "made up of several, both of his class and men of other
+occupations."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2" id="Note_The_Two_April_Mornings_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Two_April_Mornings_2">2.</a> <b>wilding.</b> A twig from a wild apple tree.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found."&mdash;<i>Dryden.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE SOLITARY REAPER.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Behold her, single in the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon solitary highland lass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reaping and singing by herself;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stop here, or gently pass!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone she cuts and binds the grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sings a melancholy strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O listen! for the vale profound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is overflowing with the sound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No nightingale did ever chaunt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More welcome notes to weary bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of travellers in some shady haunt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among Arabian sands:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[<a href="./images/52.png">52</a>]</span><span class="i0">A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breaking the silence of the seas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the farthest Hebrides.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Will no one tell me what she sings?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For old, unhappy, far-off things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And battles long ago:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it some more humble lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Familiar matter of to-day?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That has been, or may be again?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if her song could have no ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw her singing at her work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the sickle bending;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I listened, motionless and still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as I mounted up the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music in my heart I bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long after it was heard no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Wordsworth</span> was born at Cockermouth, a town in Cumberland,
+England, April 7, 1770. He went to school at Hawkshead, Lancashire,
+whence in his seventeenth year he was sent to St. John's College,
+Cambridge. In January, 1791, he took his degree at the University, but
+without having distinguished himself in any way. The next fifteen or
+sixteen months were spent in France, just then in the first wild hopes
+of the Revolution. "In the aspirations and hopes of the revolutionists
+he was an ardent sharer; he thought that the world's great age was
+beginning anew; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[<a href="./images/53.png">53</a>]</span>and with all his soul he hailed so splendid an era. The
+ultimate degradation of that great movement by wild lawlessness, and
+then by most selfish ambition, alienated his sympathy for it." Towards
+the close of 1792 he returned to England, and passed the subsequent time
+among his friends in London and elsewhere till he settled with his
+sister at Racedown, Dorsetshire, in 1796. In the following year they
+removed to Alfoxden. It was during this period that he made the
+acquaintance of Coleridge. Wordsworth had already published (1793) two
+little volumes of poetry, entitled <i>Descriptive Sketches</i> and <i>The
+Evening Walk</i>; but they showed little promise of the triumphs which were
+to crown his later life. In 1798 the first volume of the <i>Lyrical
+Ballads</i> was published at Bristol, which purported to be the joint work
+of himself and Mr. Coleridge, but to which the latter contributed only
+"The Ancient Mariner" and two or three shorter poems. After some months
+spent in Germany, Wordsworth and his sister established themselves at
+Grasmere, in the lake country. In 1800 he published the second volume of
+the <i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, and in 1802 he married Mary Hutchinson. From 1799
+to 1814 he was mainly busy with his great philosophical poem, to be
+called "The Recluse," "containing views of Man, Nature, and Society," of
+which "The Prelude" was to be the introduction and "The Excursion" the
+Second and main Part. He designed that his minor pieces should be so
+arranged in connection with this work as to "give them claim to be
+likened to the little cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses,
+ordinarily included in Gothic churches." This plan, however, was never
+carried out, as of the First and Third Parts only one book was written,
+and it has never been published. From 1814 until his death Wordsworth
+lived serenely and quietly at Rydal Mount, making occasional excursions
+into Scotland and Wales, and a tour upon the continent. In 1843, upon
+the death of Southey, he was appointed Poet-Laureate. His life was a
+long one, of steady work and much happiness. He died April 23, 1850.</p>
+
+<p>The distinguishing feature of Wordsworth's poetry is well set forth in
+his own words:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The moving accident is not my trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To freeze the blood I have no ready arts;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">'Tis my delight, alone in summer shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Hart-Leap Well, Part II.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>[<a href="./images/54.png">54</a>]</span>
+"Every great poet," he said, "is a teacher; I wish either to be
+considered as a teacher or as nothing."</p>
+
+<p>And he avowed that the purpose of his poetry was "to console the
+afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier; to
+teach the young and the gracious of every age <i>to see, to think and
+feel</i>, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous."</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">His daily teachings had been woods and rills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The silence that is in the starry sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The sleep that is among the lonely hills."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Wordsworth," says John Campbell Shairp, "was the first who, both in
+theory and practice, shook off the trammels of the so-called poetic
+diction which had tyrannized over English poetry for more than a
+century. This diction of course exactly represented the half-courtly,
+half-classical mode of thinking and feeling. As Wordsworth rebelled
+against this conventionality of spirit, so against the outward
+expression of it. The whole of the stock phrases and used-up metaphors
+he discarded, and returned to living language of natural feeling, as it
+is used by men, instead of the dead form of it which had got stereotyped
+in books. And just as in his subjects he had taken in from the waste
+much virgin soil, so in his diction he appropriated for poetic use a
+large amount of words, idioms, metaphors, till then by the poets
+disallowed. His shorter poems, both the earlier and the later, are, for
+the most part, very models of natural, powerful, and yet sensitive
+English; the language being, like a garment, woven out of, and
+transparent with, the thought."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> We are Seven; The Pet Lamb; To a Highland Girl;
+Laodamia; Matthew; The Fountain; The Wishing Gate; To the Small
+Celandine; "Three Years She Grew"; "She was a Phantom of Delight"; At
+the Grave of Burns.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Shairp's <i>Studies in Poetry and Philosophy</i>; Hazlitt's
+<i>English Poets</i>; De Quincey's <i>Miscellaneous Works</i>; <i>Literature and
+Life</i>, by E. P. Whipple; <i>Wordsworth</i> (English Men of Letters), by
+Goldwin Smith; <i>Yesterdays with Authors</i>, by James T. Fields; <i>Among My
+Books</i>, Second Series, by J. R. Lowell; Matthew Arnold's Introduction to
+the Poems of William Wordsworth.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[<a href="./images/55.png">55</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHRISTABEL.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tu&mdash;whit!&mdash;&mdash;Tu&mdash;whoo!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hark, again! the crowing cock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How drowsily it crew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her kennel beneath the rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She maketh answer to the clock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever and aye, by shine and shower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sixteen short howls, not over loud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is the night chilly and dark?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night is chilly, but not dark.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thin gray cloud is spread on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It covers but not hides the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon is behind, and at the full;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet she looks both small and dull.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night is chill, the cloud is gray:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[<a href="./images/56.png">56</a>]</span><span class="i0">'Tis a month before the month of May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Spring comes slowly up this way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lovely lady, Christabel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom her father loves so well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What makes her in the wood so late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A furlong from the castle gate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She had dreams all yesternight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her own betrothed knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreams that made her moan and leap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on her bed she lay in sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she in the midnight wood will pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the weal of her lover that's far away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She stole along, she nothing spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sighs she heaved were soft and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And naught was green upon the oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But moss and rarest mistletoe:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in silence prayeth she.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lady sprang up suddenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lovely lady, Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It moaned as near as near can be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what it is she cannot tell.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the other side it seems to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The night is chill; the forest bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is not wind enough in the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To move away the ringlet curl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the lovely lady's cheek&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is not wind enough to twirl<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[<a href="./images/57.png">57</a>]</span><span class="i0">The one red leaf, the last of its clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dances as often as dance it can,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hanging so light, and hanging so high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hush, beating heart of Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jesu, Maria, shield her well!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She folded her arms beneath her cloak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stole to the other side of the oak.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What sees she there?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There she sees a damsel bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drest in a silken robe of white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shadowy in the moonlight shone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The neck that made that white robe wan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her stately neck and arms were bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her blue-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wildly glitter'd here and there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gems entangled in her hair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I guess, 'twas frightful there to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lady so richly clad as she&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautiful exceedingly!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mary, mother, save me now!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Said Christabel,) "And who art thou?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lady strange made answer meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her voice was faint and sweet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Have pity on my sore distress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I scarce can speak for weariness:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said Christabel, "How camest thou here?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did thus pursue her answer meet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My sire is of a noble line,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[<a href="./images/58.png">58</a>]</span><span class="i0">And my name is Geraldine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Five warriors seized me yestermorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me, even me, a maid forlorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They choked my cries with force and fright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tied me on a palfrey white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The palfrey was as fleet as wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they rode furiously behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They spurred amain, their steeds were white:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And once we cross'd the shade of night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have no thought what men they be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor do I know how long it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(For I have lain entranced I wis)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since one, the tallest of the five,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took me from the palfrey's back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A weary woman, scarce alive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He placed me underneath this oak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He swore they would return with haste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither they went I cannot tell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I thought I heard, some minutes past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounds as of a castle bell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch forth thy hand" (thus ended she),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And help a wretched maid to flee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And comforted fair Geraldine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O well, bright dame! may you command<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The service of Sir Leoline;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladly our stout chivalry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will he send forth and friends withal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guide and guard you safe and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Home to your noble father's hall."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[<a href="./images/59.png">59</a>]</span><span class="i0">She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That strove to be, and were not, fast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gracious stars the lady blest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus spake on sweet Christabel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All our household are at rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hall is silent as the cell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Leoline is weak in health,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And may not well awaken'd be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we will move as if in stealth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I beseech your courtesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This night, to share your couch with me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the moat, and Christabel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took the key that fitted well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little door she open'd straight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in the middle of the gate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gate that was iron'd within and without,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where an army in battle array had march'd out.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady sank, belike through pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel with might and main<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifted her up, a weary weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the threshold of the gate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the lady rose again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moved, as she were not in pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So free from danger, free from fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the court: right glad they were.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel devoutly cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the lady by her side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Praise we the Virgin all divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath rescued thee from thy distress!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I cannot speak for weariness."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>[<a href="./images/60.png">60</a>]</span><span class="i0">So free from danger, free from fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They cross'd the court: right glad they were.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Outside her kennel the mastiff old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mastiff old did not awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet she an angry moan did make!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what can ail the mastiff bitch?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never till now she utter'd yell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the eye of Christabel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what can ail the mastiff bitch?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They pass'd the hall, that echoes still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pass as lightly as you will!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brands were flat, the brands were dying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid their own white ashes lying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when the lady pass'd, there came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tongue of light, a fit of flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Christabel saw the lady's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nothing else saw she thereby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O softly tread," said Christabel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My father seldom sleepeth well."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sweet Christabel her feet both bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, jealous of the listening air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They steal their way from stair to stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now they pass the Baron's room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still as death, with stifled breath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now have reach'd her chamber door;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>[<a href="./images/61.png">61</a>]</span><span class="i0">And now doth Geraldine press down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rushes of the chamber floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The moon shines dim in the open air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not a moonbeam enters here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they without its light can see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chamber carved so curiously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carved with figures strange and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All made out of the carver's brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a lady's chamber meet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lamp with twofold silver chain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is fasten'd to an angel's feet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The silver lamp burns dead and dim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Christabel the lamp will trim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left it swinging to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Geraldine, in wretched plight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sank down upon the floor below.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O weary lady, Geraldine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pray you, drink this cordial wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a wine of virtuous powers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My mother made it of wild flowers."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And will your mother pity me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who am a maiden most forlorn?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christabel answered&mdash;"Woe is me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She died the hour that I was born.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have heard the gray-hair'd friar tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How on her death-bed she did say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That she should hear the castle-bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O mother dear! that thou wert here!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I would," said Geraldine, "she were!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[<a href="./images/62.png">62</a>]</span><span class="i0">But soon with altered voice, said she&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have power to bid thee flee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why stares she with unsettled eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can she the bodiless dead espy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And why with hollow voice cries she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though thou her guardian spirit be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And raised to heaven her eyes so blue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas!" said she, "this ghastly ride&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady wiped her moist cold brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again the wild-flower wine she drank:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the floor whereon she sank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lofty lady stood upright:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was most beautiful to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a lady of a far countr&eacute;e.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thus the lofty lady spake&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All they who live in the upper sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do love you, holy Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you love them, and for their sake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for the good which me befell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even I in my degree will try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair maiden, to requite you well.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now unrobe yourself; for I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[<a href="./images/63.png">63</a>]</span><span class="i0">Quoth Christabel, "So let it be!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the lady bade, did she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gentle limbs did she undress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay down in her loveliness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But through her brain of weal and woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So many thoughts move to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That vain it were her lids to close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So half-way from the bed she rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on her elbow did recline<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To look at the lady Geraldine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slowly roll'd her eyes around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then drawing in her breath aloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like one that shudder'd, she unbound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cincture from beneath her breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her silken robe and inner vest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropt to her feet, and full in view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold! her bosom and half her side&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sight to dream of, not to tell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O shield her! shield sweet Christabel.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! what a stricken look was hers!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep from within seems half-way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lift some weight with sick assay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyes the maid and seeks delay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then suddenly as one defied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Collects herself in scorn and pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay down by the maiden's side!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in her arms the maid she took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah, well-a-day!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[<a href="./images/64.png">64</a>]</span><span class="i0">And with low voice and doleful look<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These words did say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">But vainly thou warrest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">For this is alone in<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy power to declare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That in the dim forest<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thou heardest a low moaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And foundest a bright lady, surpassingly fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shield her and shelter her from the damp air."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES</h3>
+
+<p>The first part of the unfinished poem, "Christabel," was written in
+1797, the second part which, however, left the story apparently as
+incomplete as before, in 1808. The two parts were first published in
+1816. The poem is a picture of white innocence, purity, and truth,
+pursued and persecuted by the powers of evil. Its incompleteness seems
+to enhance its interest. "Completion could scarcely have failed to
+lessen its reality, for the reader could not have endured, neither could
+the poet's own theory have endured, the sacrifice of Christabel, the
+triumph of evil over good; and had she triumphed, there is a vulgar
+well-being in victory which has nothing to do with such a strain."</p>
+
+<p>"Such is the unfinished and unfinishable tale of Christabel&mdash;a poem
+which, despite its broken notes and over-brevity, has raised its author
+to the highest rank of poets, and which in itself is at once one of the
+sweetest, loftiest, most spiritual utterances that has ever been framed
+in English words. We know of no existing poem in any language to which
+we can compare it. It stands by itself exquisite, celestial,
+ethereal,&mdash;a song of the spheres,&mdash;yet full of such pathos and
+tenderness and sorrowful beauty as only humanity can
+give."&mdash;<i>Blackwood's Magazine</i>, 1871.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[<a href="./images/65.png">65</a>]</span>
+It is worthy of note that "Christabel" was the immediate inspiration of
+Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel." "It is to Mr. Coleridge," says Sir
+Walter, "that I am bound to make the acknowledgment due from the pupil
+to his master." "But certainly," says Hales, "Scott himself never
+succeeded in surrounding any one of his works with so fine an atmosphere
+of glamour and romance."</p>
+
+<p>The language and metrical arrangement of this poem are not only peculiar
+but are in full accord with the weird and fantastic conception of the
+piece as a whole. The versification is based upon a principle not
+commonly practised&mdash;that of counting the number of accentuated words in
+a line instead of the number of syllables. Though the latter varies from
+seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents never exceed four. The
+result is an irregular, but strangely beautiful harmony of a kind that
+can hardly be attained through the ordinary methods of versification.</p>
+
+<p>This poem is to be studied for its exquisite beauty, for the true poetic
+qualities which it possesses and which distinguish it from mere verse.
+Hence, no explanatory notes are given with reference to any particular
+passage, nor is it desirable that it should be analyzed with a view to
+grammatical or philological study. It should be read and reread until
+the student is thoroughly in accord with the poetic spirit which
+breathes in and vivifies the entire production. "It was indolence, no
+doubt, that left the tale half told&mdash;indolence and misery&mdash;and a poetic
+instinct higher than all the better impulses of industry and virtuous
+gain. The subject by its very nature was incomplete; it had to be left a
+lovely, weird suggestion&mdash;a vision for every eye that could see."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</span> was born at Ottery Saint Mary, October 21, 1772.
+He was educated at Christ's Hospital and at Jesus College, Cambridge. At
+the age of twenty-two he left the University without having taken a
+degree. He was an intimate friend of Charles Lamb and Southey, and with
+the latter formed a wild scheme for the founding of a "Pantisocratic
+State" in America, which, however, was soon abandoned. His first book of
+poetry was published in 1794. In 1796 he and Charles Lamb published a
+volume of poems together. He soon afterwards became acquainted with
+Wordsworth, and in 1798 the two brought out their famous volume of
+<i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, containing some of Wordsworth's best <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[<a href="./images/66.png">66</a>]</span>pieces and
+Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner." "Christabel," after lying in manuscript
+for several years, was published in 1816, three editions being issued
+within twelve months. Coleridge's chief poems were published in 1817 in
+a collection entitled <i>Sibylline Leaves</i>, so called, he says, "in
+allusion to the fragmentary and wildly scattered state in which they had
+long been suffered to remain." At about the same time he was received
+into the house of Mr. Gillman, a surgeon residing at Highgate, in order
+to be cured if possible of his excessive use of opium. Here he produced
+his more important prose works, <i>Aids to Reflection</i>, and <i>On the
+Constitution of Church and State</i>; and here he died, July 25, 1834.</p>
+
+<p>Coleridge was forever planning and designing,&mdash;beginning a work and
+leaving its completion until to-morrow&mdash;which never came. He devoted his
+attention only sparingly to poetry&mdash;and that chiefly during his youth.
+Later in life he was occupied with political, social, and religious
+questions. "He was a living Hamlet, full of the most splendid thoughts
+and the noblest purposes, but a most incompetent doer." "His mind,"
+wrote Southey, "is a perpetual St. Vitus's dance&mdash;eternal activity
+without action."</p>
+
+<p>"Of Coleridge's best verses," says Swinburne, "I venture to affirm that
+the world has nothing like them, and can never have; that they are of
+the highest kind, and of their own. They are jewels of the diamond's
+price, flowers of the rose's rank, but unlike any rose or diamond
+known."</p>
+
+<p>"His best work is but little," says Stopford Brooke, "but of its kind it
+is perfect and unique.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. All that he did excellently might be bound up
+in twenty pages, but it should be bound in pure gold."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; Hymn before
+Sunrise in the Vale of Chamouni; Ode to France; Genevieve.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Swinburne's <i>Studies and Essays</i>; Shairp's <i>Studies in
+Poetry</i>; Carlyle's <i>Reminiscences</i>; Coleridge's <i>Biographia Literaria</i>;
+De Quincey's <i>Essays</i>; <i>Coleridge</i> (English Men of Letters), by H. D.
+Traill; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; Hunt's <i>Imagination and Fancy</i>;
+Chorley's <i>Authors of England</i>; Walter Pater's <i>Apprecia</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>[<a href="./images/67.png">67</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Percy Bysshe Shelley.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO A SKYLARK</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Bird thou never wert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That from heaven, or near it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In profuse<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_1" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_1"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_1" class="marker">1</a> strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Higher still, and higher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From the earth thou springest<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The deep blue thou wingest,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_2" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_2"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">In the golden lightning<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of the sunken sun,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_3" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_3"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O'er which clouds are brightening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou dost float and run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">The pale purple even<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the broad daylight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>[<a href="./images/68.png">68</a>]</span><span class="i4">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">All the earth and air<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As, when night is bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From one lonely cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon rains<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_4" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_4"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_4" class="marker">4</a> out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">What thou art we know not;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What is most like thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a poet hidden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In the light of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Till the world is wrought<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_5" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_5"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In a palace tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Soul in secret hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Like a glow-worm golden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In a dell of dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Its a&euml;rial hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[<a href="./images/69.png">69</a>]</span><span class="i4">Like a rose embowered<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In its own green leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">By warm winds deflowered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Till the scent it gives<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rain-awakened flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">All that ever was<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Teach us, sprite<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_6" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_6"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_6" class="marker">6</a> or bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">I have never heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Praise of love or wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Chorus hymeneal,<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_7" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_7"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or triumphal chaunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Matched with thine would be all<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But an empty vaunt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">What objects are the fountains<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Langour cannot be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Never came near thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[<a href="./images/70.png">70</a>]</span><span class="i4">Waking or asleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Thou of death must deem<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Things more true and deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Than we mortals dream&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">We look before and after,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And pine for what is not:<a name="marker_To_a_Skylark_8" id="marker_To_a_Skylark_8"></a><a href="#Note_To_a_Skylark_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With some pain is fraught:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">If we were things born<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Better than all measures<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of delight and sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Better than all treasures<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That in books are found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">That thy brain must know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Such harmonious madness<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">From my lips would flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This is perhaps the most perfect lyric of its kind in the English
+language. Every verse is worthy of careful study, and it should be read
+and reread until its exquisite melody is felt and the subtle thoughts
+which it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[<a href="./images/71.png">71</a>]</span>embodies fully understood. Yet there is little in the poem
+which requires annotation&mdash;the lark's song itself admits of no
+explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"For sweetness the 'Ode to a Skylark' is inferior only to Coleridge, in
+rapturous passion to no man. It is like the bird it
+sings,&mdash;enthusiastic, enchanting, profuse, continuous, and
+alone,&mdash;small, but filling the heavens."&mdash;<i>Leigh Hunt.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Has any one, since Shakespeare and Spenser, lighted on such tender and
+such grand ecstasies?"&mdash;<i>Taine.</i></p>
+
+<p>The skylark is very generally distributed over the northern portions of
+the Old World, but is not found in America. Its song in the morning may
+often be heard when the bird is so high as to be entirely out of sight,
+and although not finely modulated is remarkably cheerful and prolonged.
+A person who is accustomed to the song can tell by its variations
+whether it be ascending, stationary, or descending.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_1" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_1"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_1">1.</a> <b>profuse.</b> Accent here on the first syllable. From Lat. <i>profundo</i>, to
+pour forth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_2" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_2"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_2">2.</a> Explain the figures of rhetoric employed in this line. The meaning of
+<b>blue</b>; of <b>wingest</b>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_3" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_3"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_3">3.</a> <b>sunken sun.</b> The sun is not yet above the horizon, but the bird has
+risen so high that it is visible to him, and he "floats and runs" in its
+golden light.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_4" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_4"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_4">4.</a> What is the meaning of <b>rains</b>? of <b>rain</b> in the next stanza?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_5" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_5"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_5">5.</a> <b>wrought.</b> Influenced. A.-S. <i>worhte</i>, <i>wyrcan</i>, to work.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_6" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_6"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_6">6.</a> <b>sprite.</b> Spirit. In the first stanza he calls the lark a spirit and
+says it never was a bird; here he calls it "bird or sprite."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_7" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_7"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_7">7.</a> <b>Chorus hymeneal.</b> See note on "Prothalamion," page <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_a_Skylark_8" id="Note_To_a_Skylark_8"></a><a href="#marker_To_a_Skylark_8">8.</a> Compare this thought with the ideas contained in Wordsworth's "Ode on
+the Intimations of Immortality."</p>
+
+<p><b>pine.</b> From A.-S. <i>pinan</i>, to pain. Our word <i>pain</i> is derived from the
+same root.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>HYMN OF PAN.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">From the forests and highlands<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We come, we come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the river-girt islands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where loud waves are dumb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listening to my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>[<a href="./images/72.png">72</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">The wind in the reeds and the rushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The bees on the bells of thyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The birds on the myrtle-bushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The cicale above in the lime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And the lizards below in the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were as silent as ever old Tmolus<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1" class="marker">1</a> was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Listening to my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Liquid Peneus<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2" class="marker">2</a> was flowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all dark Tempe lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The light of the dying day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Speeded by my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Sileni<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3" class="marker">3</a> and Sylvans and Fauns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the edge of the moist river-lawns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the brink of the dewy caves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all that did then attend and follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were silent with love,&mdash;as you now, Apollo,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With envy of my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">I sang of the dancing stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I sang of the d&aelig;dal<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5" class="marker">5</a> earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And of heaven, and the Giant wars,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And love, and death, and birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And then I changed my pipings,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Singing how down the vale of M&aelig;nalus<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I pursued a maiden,<a name="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7" id="marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7"></a><a href="#Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7" class="marker">7</a> and clasped a reed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All wept&mdash;as I think both ye now would,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If envy or age had not frozen your blood&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>[<a href="./images/73.png">73</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Pan, as described in the Homeric hymns, is "lord of all the hills and
+dales": sometimes he ranges along the tops of the mountains; sometimes
+pursues the game in the valleys, roams through the woods, or floats
+along the streams; or drives his sheep into a cave, and there plays on
+his reeds music not to be excelled by that of the sweetest singing
+birds; and</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"With him the clear-singing mountain-nymphs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Move quick their feet, by the dark-watered spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the soft mead, where crocus, hyacinths,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fragrant and blooming, mingle with the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Confused, and sing, while echo peals around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain's top."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Keats, in "Endymion," thus apostrophizes Pan:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">While ever and anon to his shorn peers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Anger our huntsmen: Breather round our farms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And wither drearily on barren moors:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Dread opener of the mysterious doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Leading to universal knowledge&mdash;see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Great son of Dryope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The many that are come to pay their vows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With leaves about their brows!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_1"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_1">1.</a> <b>Tmolus.</b> It was Tmolus who acted as umpire in the musical contest
+between Pan and Apollo. This contest is directly referred to throughout
+this poem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_2"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_2">2.</a> <b>Peneus.</b> The chief river of Thessaly. It flows through the Vale of
+Tempe, and between the mountains Ossa and Pelion, emptying finally into
+the &AElig;gean Sea. (See map of ancient Greece.)</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_3"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_3">3.</a> <b>Sileni.</b> A name applied to the older satyrs. They were fond of wine
+and of every kind of sensual pleasure, and hence represented the
+luxuriant powers of nature, and were connected with the worship of
+Bacchus.</p>
+
+<p><b>Sylvans.</b> Deities of the fields and forests.</p>
+
+<p><b>Fauns.</b> Gods of the shepherds, flocks, and fields. A faun was usually
+represented as half man and half goat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[<a href="./images/74.png">74</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_4"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_4">4.</a> <b>Apollo.</b> One of the chief divinities of the Greeks; the god of music
+and song, of prophecy, of the flocks and herds, of the founding of
+towns, and of the sun. He was the son of Zeus and Leto, and was born on
+the island of Delos. His favorite oracle was at Delphi.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_5"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_5">5.</a> <b>d&aelig;dal.</b> Labyrinthine, wonderful. From D&aelig;dalus, a famous Athenian
+architect, who designed the labyrinth at Crete in which the Minotaur was
+kept.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_6"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_6">6.</a> <b>Giant wars.</b> The wars of the Titans,&mdash;the contest in which Zeus
+overcame and deposed his father, Chronos, and made himself supreme ruler
+of the universe. The Titans, who were opposed to him, were overcome, and
+hurled into the lowest depths of Tartarus.</p>
+
+<p><b>M&aelig;nalus.</b> A mountain in Arcadia, celebrated as the favorite haunt of Pan.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7" id="Note_Hymn_of_Pan_7"></a><a href="#marker_Hymn_of_Pan_7">7.</a> <b>maiden.</b> Syrinx, a nymph of Arcadia, devoted to the service of
+Artemis. "As she was returning one day from the chase, Pan saw and loved
+her; but when he would address her, she fled. The god pursued. She
+reached the river Ladon, and, unable to cross it, implored the aid of
+her sister nymphs; and when Pan thought to grasp the object of his
+pursuit, he found his arms filled with reeds. At that moment the wind
+began to agitate the reeds and produced a low musical sound. The god
+took the hint, cut seven of the twigs, and formed from them his
+<i>syrinx</i>, or pastoral pipe." See Ovid's <i>Metamorphoses</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM "EPIPSYCHIDION."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i11">Emily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A ship is floating in the harbor now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is a path on the sea's azure floor,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No keel has ever ploughed that path before;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The halcyons<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_1" id="marker_Epipsychidion_1"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_1" class="marker">1</a> brood around the foamless isles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The treacherous ocean has forsworn its wiles;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merry mariners are bold and free:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our bark is as an albatross whose nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is a far Eden of the purple east;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[<a href="./images/75.png">75</a>]</span><span class="i0">And we between her wings will sit, while Night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Day and Storm and Calm pursue their flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ministers, along the boundless sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treading each other's heels, unheededly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is an isle under Ionian<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_2" id="marker_Epipsychidion_2"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_2" class="marker">2</a> skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautiful as a wreck of paradise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, for<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_3" id="marker_Epipsychidion_3"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_3" class="marker">3</a> the harbors are not safe and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This land would have remained a solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for some pastoral people native there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who from the elysian, clear, and golden air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_4" id="marker_Epipsychidion_4"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_4" class="marker">4</a>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Simple and spirited, innocent and bold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blue &AElig;gean girds this chosen home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ever-changing sound and light and foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kissing the sifted sands and caverns hoar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the winds wandering along the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undulate with the undulating tide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many a fountain, rivulet, and pond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As clear as elemental diamond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or serene morning air. And far beyond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierce into glades, caverns, and bowers, and halls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Illumining, with sound that never fails,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Accompany the noonday nightingales.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the place is peopled with sweet airs.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_5" id="marker_Epipsychidion_5"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light clear element which the isle wears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the moss violets and jonquils peep,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>[<a href="./images/76.png">76</a>]</span><span class="i0">And dart their arrowy odor through the brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till you might faint with that delicious pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every motion, odor, beam, and tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that deep music is in unison:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which is a soul within the soul,&mdash;they seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like echoes of an antenatal dream.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_6" id="marker_Epipsychidion_6"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is an isle 'twixt heaven, air, earth, and sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cradled, and hung in clear tranquillity;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright as that wandering Eden, Lucifer,<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_7" id="marker_Epipsychidion_7"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Washed by the soft blue oceans of young air.<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_8" id="marker_Epipsychidion_8"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a favored place. Famine or blight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pestilence, war, and earthquake, never light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sail onward far upon their fatal way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wing&egrave;d storms, chaunting their thunder-psalm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From which its fields and woods ever renew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their green and golden immortality.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the sea there rise, and from the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Veil after veil, each hiding some delight:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which sun or moon or zephyr draw aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glowing at once with love and loveliness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blushes and trembles at its own excess.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, like a buried lamp, a soul no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An atom of the Eternal, whose own smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the gray rocks, blue waves, and forests green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filling their bare and void interstices.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[<a href="./images/77.png">77</a>]</span><span class="i0">This isle and house are mine, and I have vowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee to be lady of the solitude.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I have fitted up some chambers there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking towards the golden eastern air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And level with the living winds which flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like waves above the living waves below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have sent books and music there, and all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those instruments with which high spirits call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The future from its cradle, and the past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of its grave, and make the present last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thoughts and joys which sleep but cannot die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Folded within their own eternity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our simple life wants little, and true taste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scene it would adorn; and therefore still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature with all her children haunts the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ringdove in the embowering ivy yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keeps up her love-lament; and the owls flit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round the evening tower; and the young stars glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before our gate; and the slow silent night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is measured by the pants of their calm sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be this our home in life; and, when years heap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their withered hours like leaves on our decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us become the overhanging day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The living soul, of this elysian isle&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We two will rise and sit and walk together<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the roof of blue Ionian weather;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wander in the meadows; or ascend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lightest winds to touch their paramour;<a name="marker_Epipsychidion_9" id="marker_Epipsychidion_9"></a><a href="#Note_Epipsychidion_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[<a href="./images/78.png">78</a>]</span><span class="i0">Or linger where the pebble-paven shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the quick faint kisses of the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Possessing and possessed by all that is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within that calm circumference of bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by each other, till to love and live<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be one.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We shall become the same, we shall be one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spirit within two frames, oh wherefore two?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One passion in twin hearts, which grows and grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, like two meteors of expanding flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those spheres instinct with it become the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Touch, mingle, are transfigured; ever still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burning, yet ever inconsumable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In one another's substance finding food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light flames too pure and light and unimbued<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which point to heaven and cannot pass away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One hope within two wills, one will beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One heaven, one hell, one immortality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one annihilation!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8h">Woe is me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wing&egrave;d words on which my soul would pierce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the height of Love's rare universe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are chains of lead around its flight of fire&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"A clever but disreputable professor at Pisa one day related to Shelley
+the sad story of a beautiful and noble lady, the Contessina Emilia
+Viviani, who had been confined by her father in a dismal convent of the
+suburbs, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>[<a href="./images/79.png">79</a>]</span>to await her marriage with a distasteful husband." Shelley,
+fired as ever by a tale of tyranny, was eager to visit the fair captive.
+The professor accompanied him and Medwin to the convent parlor, where
+they found her more lovely than even the most glowing descriptions had
+led them to expect. Nor was she only beautiful. Shelley soon discovered
+that she had "cultivated her mind beyond what I have ever met with in
+Italian women"; and a rhapsody composed by her upon the subject of
+Uranian Love&mdash;"Il Vero Amore"&mdash;justifies the belief that she possessed
+an intellect of more than ordinary elevation. He took Mrs. Shelley to
+see her; and both did all they could to make her convent prison less
+irksome by frequent visits, by letters, by presents of flowers and
+books. It was not long before Shelley's sympathy for this unfortunate
+lady took the form of love, which, however spiritual and Platonic, was
+not the less passionate. The result was the composition of
+"Epipsychidion," the most unintelligible of all his poems to those who
+have not assimilated the spirit of Plato's <i>Symposium</i> and Dante's <i>Vita
+Nuova</i>.&mdash;<i>J. A. Symonds.</i></p>
+
+<p>W. M. Rossetti characterizes this poem as "a pure outpouring of poetry;
+a brimming and bubbling fountain of freshness and music, magical with
+its own spray rainbows."</p>
+
+<p>A year after its composition, Shelley wrote: "The 'Epipsychidion' I
+cannot look at. If you are curious, however, to hear what I am and have
+been, it will tell you something thereof. It is an idealized history of
+my life and feelings."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Epipsychidion.</b> From Gr. <i>epi</i>, upon, and <i>psyche</i>, the soul. This poem
+is addressed "to the noble and unfortunate Lady Emilia Viviani, now
+imprisoned in the Convent of St. Anne, Pisa," and was written in 1821.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_1" id="Note_Epipsychidion_1"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_1">1.</a> <b>halcyons.</b> Kingfishers. Halcyone was the daughter of &AElig;olus and wife of
+Ceyx. When her husband died she was changed into a bird,&mdash;the
+kingfisher,&mdash;and, floating over the sea, she still calls for the lost
+Ceyx in tones full of plaining and tears. And "whensoever she makes her
+nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
+weather&mdash;days distinguishable among all others for their serenity."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_2" id="Note_Epipsychidion_2"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_2">2.</a> <b>Ionian.</b> Greek. See the expression "Under the roof of blue Ionian
+weather," below. Explain its meaning.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_3" id="Note_Epipsychidion_3"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_3">3.</a> <b>for.</b> Since, because.</p>
+
+<p><b>elysian.</b> Heavenly. Pertaining to Elysium, the islands of the blest, the
+Elysian fields.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_4" id="Note_Epipsychidion_4"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_4">4.</a> <b>age of gold.</b> Compare Milton, "Hymn on the Nativity" (see note 36,
+page <a href="#Page_192">192</a>. See, also, poem by John Lydgate, page <a href="#Page_275">275</a>).</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_5" id="Note_Epipsychidion_5"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_5">5.</a> <b>peopled with sweet airs.</b> Filled with sweet music.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>[<a href="./images/80.png">80</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Epipsychidion_6" id="Note_Epipsychidion_6"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_6">6.</a> <b>antenatal dream.</b> See Wordsworth's "<a href="#Ode_Intimations_of_Immortality">Ode on the Intimations of
+Immortality</a>" (also, note 13, page <a href="#Page_47">47</a>).</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_7" id="Note_Epipsychidion_7"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_7">7.</a> <b>Lucifer.</b> Venus when seen in the morning, rising before the sun is
+called Lucifer, the light-bearer. From Lat. <i>lux</i>, light, and <i>fero</i>, to
+bear (see note 18, page <a href="#Page_189">189</a>). The same star when seen in the evening,
+following the sun, is called Hesperus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_8" id="Note_Epipsychidion_8"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_8">8.</a> <b>blue oceans of young air.</b> Explain.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Epipsychidion_9" id="Note_Epipsychidion_9"></a><a href="#marker_Epipsychidion_9">9.</a> <b>paramour.</b> See Milton's "Ode on the Nativity," stanza i.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was no reason then for her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Milton makes the sun the paramour of the earth; Shelley, the earth the
+paramour of the sky.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A LAMENT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than summer's flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than youth's delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swifter far than happy night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Art thou come and gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the earth when leaves are dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the night when sleep is sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the heart when joy is fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I am left alone, alone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The swallow Summer comes again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The owlet Night resumes her reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the wild swan Youth is fain<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To fly with thee, false as thou.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart each day desires the morrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sleep itself is turned to sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vainly would my winter borrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sunny leaves from any bough.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lilies for a bridal bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roses for a matron's head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Violets for a maiden dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pansies let my flowers be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the living grave I bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scatter them without a tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let no friend, however dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Waste one hope, one fear, for me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>[<a href="./images/81.png">81</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Percy Bysshe Shelley</span> was born at Field Place, near Horsham in Sussex,
+August 4, 1792. He was educated at Eton and at Oxford. While a student
+at the latter place, he wrote a pamphlet, entitled <i>The Necessity of
+Atheism</i>, which caused his expulsion from college. This occurred in
+1811, and in the same year he married Harriet Westbrook, from whom,
+three years later, he separated. In 1816 he married Mary Godwin. In 1818
+he left England for Italy, where he remained until his death by drowning
+in the gulf of Spezia, July 8, 1822. His first considerable poem, "Queen
+Mab," was published in 1813; "Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude," in
+1816; "The Revolt of Islam," in 1818; and "Epipsychidion" and "Adonais"
+in 1821. His two dramas, the "Cenci" and "Prometheus Unbound," were
+issued, the former in 1819, the latter in 1821.</p>
+
+<p>"Shelley's early rupture with the English world," says Hales, "lost him
+all the advantages which a fuller experience of it and a longer
+intercourse with it might have given. That world was no less estranged
+from him than he from it. It misunderstood and misinterpreted him
+throughout his career. It covered him with its opprobrium. Assuredly, he
+was not the man that world painted. It by no means follows that because
+Shelley did not repeat the ordinary creeds, and even mocked at them,
+that he believed nothing. Shelley was never in his soul an atheist: it
+was simply impossible with his nature that he should be; what he did
+deny and defy was a deity whose worship seemed, as he saw the world,
+consistent with the reign of selfishness and bigotry."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Macaulay says: "We doubt whether any modern poet has possessed in
+an equal degree some of the highest qualities of the great ancient
+masters. The words <i>bard</i> and <i>inspiration</i>, which seem so cold and
+affected when applied to other modern writers, have a perfect propriety
+when applied to him. He was not an author, but a bard. His poetry seems
+not to have been an art, but an inspiration. Had he lived to the full
+age of man, he might not improbably, have given to the world some great
+work of the very highest rank in design and execution."</p>
+
+<p>Leigh Hunt says: "Assuredly, had he lived, he would have been the
+greatest dramatic writer since the days of Elizabeth. In general, if
+Coleridge is the sweetest of our poets, Shelley is at once the most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>[<a href="./images/82.png">82</a>]</span>ethereal and most gorgeous&mdash;the one who has clothed his thoughts in
+draperies of the most evanescent and most magnificent words and imagery.
+His poetry is as full of mountains, seas, and skies, of light, and
+darkness, and the seasons, and all the elements of our being, as if
+Nature herself had written it, with the Creation and its hopes newly
+cast around her, not, it must be confessed, without too indiscriminate a
+mixture of great and small, and a want of sufficient shade&mdash;a certain
+chaotic brilliancy, 'dark with excess of light.'"</p>
+
+<p>Another English poet says: "Shelley outsang all poets on record but some
+two or three throughout all time; his depths and heights of inner and
+outer music are as divine as nature's, and not sooner exhaustible. He
+was alone the perfect singing-god; his thoughts, words, deeds, all sang
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"The poet who creates a new ideal, and fills men's hearts with the flame
+of a divine desire, is a practical force in the stream of human
+development&mdash;and this Shelley has done. So much of his poetry is full of
+the tender melancholy of the moonlight he loved, that the world is still
+half blind to his highest bardic character, as the poet of a spiritual
+dawn, the eager spirit who flies forward&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Calling the laps&egrave;d soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And weeping in the morning dew."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Even his moonlight seems to reflect the beams of some unrisen sun; and
+his sunlight has all the ethereal exhilaration of that of the first
+hours of a glorious day."&mdash;<i>John Todhunter.</i></p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Adonais; The Sensitive Plant; The Cloud; Mount
+Blanc; To Wordsworth; The Euganean Hills; Liberty; Alastor; Prometheus
+Unbound.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> De Quincey's <i>Essays</i>; Jeaffreson's <i>The Real Shelley</i>;
+<i>Shelley</i> (English Men of Letters), by J. A. Symonds; Leigh Hunt's
+<i>Imagination and Fancy</i>; Rossetti's <i>Memoir of Shelley</i>; Dowden's <i>Life
+of P. B. Shelley</i>; Moore's <i>Life of Lord Byron</i>; Middleton's <i>Shelley
+and his Writings</i>; Medwin's <i>Life of Shelley</i>; Trelawney's
+<i>Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron</i>; Todhunter's
+<i>Shelley: A Study</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>[<a href="./images/83.png">83</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Keats.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE.</h2>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One minute past, and Lethe-wards<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" class="marker">1</a> had sunk:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But being too happy in thy happiness,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That thou, light-winged Dryad<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" class="marker">2</a> of the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In some melodious plot<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Singest of summer in full-throated ease.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O for a draught of vintage, that hath been<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tasting of Flora and the country-green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dance, and Proven&ccedil;al song,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" class="marker">3</a> and sun-burnt mirth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O for a beaker full of the warm South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And purple-stained mouth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with thee fade away into the forest dim:<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>[<a href="./images/84.png">84</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What thou among the leaves hast never known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weariness, the fever, and the fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And leaden-eyed despairs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Away! away! for I will fly to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But on the viewless wings of Poesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already with thee! tender is the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Clustered around by all her starry Fays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">But here there is no light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherewith the seasonable month endows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>[<a href="./images/85.png">85</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Fast-fading violets covered up in leaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">And mid-May's eldest child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eyes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Darkling<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" class="marker">7</a> I listen; and for many a time<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I have been half in love with easeful Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take into the air my quiet breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now more than ever seems it rich to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To cease upon the midnight with no pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In such an ecstasy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To thy high requiem<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" class="marker">8</a> become a sod.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No hungry generations tread thee down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice I hear this passing night was heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In ancient days by emperor and clown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the self-same song that found a path<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She stood in tears amid the alien corn<a name="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" id="marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" class="marker">9</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">The same that oft-times hath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forlorn! the very word is like a bell<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To toll me back from thee to my sole self!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>[<a href="./images/86.png">86</a>]</span><span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Past the near meadows, over the still stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i4h">In the next valley-glades:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was it a vision, or a waking dream?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fled is that music:&mdash;do I wake or sleep?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This poem," says Leigh Hunt, "was written in a house at the foot of
+Highgate Hill, on the border of the fields looking towards Hampstead.
+The poet had then his mortal illness upon him, and knew it; never was
+the voice of death sweeter."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_1">1.</a> <b>Lethe-wards.</b> That is, towards Lethe. Lethe was one of the rivers of
+Hell. Its name means "forgetfulness." Milton describes it thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"A slow and silent stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forthwith his former state and being forgets&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, ii, 583.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_2">2.</a> <b>Dryad.</b> A wood-nymph. From Gr. <i>drus</i>, an oak tree. The life of the
+Dryad was supposed to be bound up with that of her tree.</p>
+
+<p>"The quickening power of the soul, like Martha, is 'busy about many
+things,' or, like a Dryad, living in a tree."&mdash;<i>Sir John Davis.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_3">3.</a> <b>Proven&ccedil;al song.</b> Song of the troubadours, a school of lyric poets that
+flourished in Provence, in the south of France, from the eleventh to the
+thirteenth century. A love song.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_4">4.</a> <b>Hippocrene.</b> The "Fountain of the Horse" (<i>Fons Caballinus</i>). A
+fountain on Mount Helicon, B&oelig;otia, sacred to the Muses. It was said
+to have been produced by the horse Pegasus striking the ground with his
+feet. Its waters were supposed to be a source of poetical inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Longfellow, in "The Goblet of Life," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No purple flowers&mdash;no garlands green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Like gleams of sunshine, flash between<br /></span>
+<span class="i2i">Thick leaves of mistletoe."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>[<a href="./images/87.png">87</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_5">5.</a> <b>Bacchus and his pards.</b> Bacchus was frequently represented as riding
+on the back of a leopard, a tiger, or a lion, or in a chariot drawn by
+panthers.</p>
+
+<p><b>pards.</b> Spotted beasts.</p>
+
+<p>See Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," third stanza, page <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_6">6.</a> Compare with Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act ii, sc.
+i:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_7">7.</a> <b>darkling.</b> In the dark. The word is very rarely used.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_8">8.</a> <b>requiem.</b> A dirge, or funeral song. "So called from the first word in
+the Catholic mass for the dead, <i>Requiem &aelig;ternum dona iis Domine</i> (Give
+eternal rest to them, O Lord)."&mdash;<i>Brand.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>become a sod.</b> Compare with Ecclesiastes, xii, 7: "Then shall the dust
+return to the earth as it was."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9" id="Note_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_to_a_Nightingale_9">9.</a> <b>alien corn.</b> See Ruth, ii. Why <i>alien</i> corn? Longfellow, in his poem
+on "Flowers," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Everywhere about us they are glowing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM "THE EVE OF ST. AGNES."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on her silver cross soft amethyst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on her hair a glory, like a saint:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save wings, for heaven:&mdash;Porphyro grew faint:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>[<a href="./images/88.png">88</a>]</span><span class="i1">Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blissfully havened both from joy and pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And listened to her breathing, if it chanced<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wake into a slumberous tenderness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And breathed himself: then from the closet crept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!&mdash;how fast she slept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>[<a href="./images/89.png">89</a>]</span><span class="i1">The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While he from forth the closet brought a heap<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With jellies soother than the creamy curd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Manna and dates, in argosy transferred<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">These delicates he heaped with glowing hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On golden dishes and in baskets bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the retired quiet of the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Filling the chilly room with perfume light.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art mine heaven, and I thine eremite:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By the dusk curtains:&mdash;'twas a midnight charm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Impossible to melt as iced stream:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It seemed he never, never could redeem<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>[<a href="./images/90.png">90</a>]</span><span class="i1">Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tumultuous,&mdash;and, in chords that tenderest be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy":<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Close to her ear touching the melody;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He ceased&mdash;she panted quick&mdash;and suddenly<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There was a painful change, that nigh expelled<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blisses of her dream so pure and deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At which fair Madeline began to weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And moan forth witless words with many a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Beyond a mortal man impassioned far<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At these voluptuous accents, he arose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>[<a href="./images/91.png">91</a>]</span><span class="i1">Into her dream he melted, as the rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blendeth its odor with the violet,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and vermeil dyed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">After so many hours of toil and quest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A famished pilgrim,&mdash;saved by miracle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Hark!'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Arise&mdash;arise! the morning is at hand;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bloated wassailers will never heed:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let us away, my love, with happy speed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>[<a href="./images/92.png">92</a>]</span><span class="i1">Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">She hurried at his words, beset with fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For there were sleeping dragons all around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At glaring watch, perhaps with ready spears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all the house was heard no human sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a huge empty flagon by his side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And they are gone: ay, ages long ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">These lovers fled away into the storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of witch and demon and large coffin-worm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were long be-nightmared. Angela, the old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Died palsy-twitch'd with meagre face deform;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>[<a href="./images/93.png">93</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"The Eve of St. Agnes" is one of the finest of Keats's shorter poems.
+Leigh Hunt describes it as "the most complete specimen of his genius;
+exquisitely loving; young, but full-grown poetry of the rarest
+description; graceful as the beardless Apollo; glowing and gorgeous with
+the colors of romance." The stanzas here quoted, while comprising the
+main portion of the story, are not quite half of the entire poem.</p>
+
+<p>Madeline, the beautiful daughter of a rude and rich old baron, is
+secretly betrothed to Porphyro, a young man whom her father has sworn to
+slay. On the eve of St. Agnes a great feast is in progress in the
+baron's castle. Porphyro, at the risk of his life, "comes across the
+moors, with heart on fire for Madeline." With the aid of the old nurse,
+Angela, he gains admission into the castle and is concealed in a closet,
+where he conceives the plan for their elopement. In the meanwhile,
+Madeline, having danced with her father's guests, retires to her room,
+her mind full of the thought of Porphyro, and intent upon testing the
+truth of the belief, then current, that on this evening, maidens might,
+if they performed certain ceremonies and forms, be vouchsafed a sight of
+their future husbands.</p>
+
+<p>St. Agnes was a young virgin of Palermo, who is said to have suffered
+martyrdom at the age of thirteen, in the Diocletian persecution, about
+<span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 304. Her feast was celebrated on the 21st of January.</p>
+
+<p>With reference to the versification of this poem, see what is said of
+the Spenserian stanza, page <a href="#Page_232">232</a>. There are many imitations of Spenser in
+these verses.</p>
+
+<p>The student is desired to discover for himself the peculiarities of
+thought, of feeling, of expression, which give interest and beauty to
+this production. The following are a few of the words and expressions
+whose meaning he should study: "Gules"; "taint"; "vespers"; "poppied";
+"Swart Paynims"; "Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness"; "Morphean
+amulet"; "affray"; "azure-lidded sleep"; "argosy"; "missal"; "tinct";
+"Fez"; "Samarcand"; "Lebanon"; "eremite"; "witless"; "alarum"; "entoiled
+in woofed phantasies"; "La belle dame sans mercy"; "heart-shaped and
+vermeil dyed"; "Of haggard seeming"; "arras."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Keats</span> was born October 29, 1795, in Moorfields, London. He was sent
+to school at Enfield, where he gained the rudiments of a classical
+education; but, his father having died when John was a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>[<a href="./images/94.png">94</a>]</span>mere child, he
+was apprenticed at an early age to a surgeon in Edmonton. When seventeen
+years old a copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene" fell into his hands, and
+the perusal of that great poem was the beginning, for him, of a new
+life. He felt the poetic instinct within him, and resolved that he too
+would be a poet. In 1817 he published a small volume of poems, which
+attracted but little attention; and in 1818 his more ambitious effort,
+"Endymion," was presented to the world. The latter poem was unkindly
+received by the great reviews. The author was advised to "go back to his
+gallipots," and told that "a starved apothecary was better than a
+starved poet." A story was long current that these severe criticisms
+induced Keats's early death, but this is entirely improbable. He
+continued writing, although consumption, a hereditary disease in his
+family, had already begun its work upon him. He published "The Eve of
+St. Agnes" in 1820, and had made some progress with a noble poem,
+entitled "Hyperion," which Lord Byron declared to be "actually inspired
+by the Titans, and as sublime as &AElig;schylus." In September of that year he
+sailed for Italy, but the hope of prolonging life by a change of climate
+proved to be vain. On the 27th of February, 1821, he died at Rome.</p>
+
+<p>"We can hardly be wrong in believing," says Masson, "that had Keats
+lived to the ordinary age of man, he would have been one of the greatest
+of all our poets. As it is, I believe we shall all be disposed to place
+him very near indeed to our very best."</p>
+
+<p>"That which was deepest in his mind," says Stopford Brooke, "was the
+love of loveliness for its own sake, the sense of its rightful and
+pre-eminent power; and, in the singleness of worship which he gave to
+Beauty, Keats is especially the artist, and the true father of the
+latest modern school of poetry."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Endymion; Ode on a Grecian Urn; Lamia; Hyperion;
+To Autumn; Hymn to Apollo; Isabella.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References</span>: <i>Keats</i> (English Men of Letters), by Sidney Colvin; <i>Keats</i>,
+by W. M. Rossetti; Matthew Arnold's Essay on Keats, in Ward's <i>English
+Poets</i>; Shairp's <i>Studies in Poetry</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>[<a href="./images/95.png">95</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Eighteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>The influence of the poetry of the past lasted; new elements were
+added to poetry, and new forms of it took shape. The study of the Greek
+and Latin classics revived, and with it a more artistic poetry. Not only
+correct form, for which Pope sought, but beautiful form was sought
+after. Men like Thomas Gray and William Collins strove to pour into
+their work that simplicity of beauty which the Greek poets and Italians
+like Petrarca had reached as the last result of genius restrained by
+art.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Two things had been learned. First, that artistic rules were
+necessary, and, secondly, that natural feeling was necessary in order
+that poetry should have a style fitted to express nobly the emotions and
+thoughts of man. The way was therefore now made ready for a style in
+which the Art should itself be Nature, and it sprang at once into being
+in the work of the poets of this time. The style of Gray is polished to
+the finest point, and yet it is instinct with natural feeling. Goldsmith
+is natural even to simplicity, and yet his verse is even more accurate
+than Pope's. Cowper's style, in such poems as the 'Lines to my Mother's
+Picture,' arises out of the simplest pathos, and yet it is as pure in
+expression as Greek poetry.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Stopford Brooke.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>At last there started up an unfortunate Scotch peasant (Burns),
+rebelling against the world, and in love, with the yearnings, lusts,
+greatness, and irrationality of modern genius. Now and then behind his
+plough, he lighted on genuine verses, verses such as Heine and Alfred de
+Musset have written in our own days. In those few words, combined after
+a new fashion, there was a revolution.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[<a href="./images/96.png">96</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Eighteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Alexander Pope</b> (1688-1744). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Parnell</b> (1679-1718). "The Hermit"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edward Young</b> (1684-1765), "Night Thoughts"; "The Last Day";
+"Resignation."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Allan Ramsay</b> (1686-1758). "The Gentle Shepherd": "Scots Songs"; "Fables
+and Tales."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Gay</b> (1688-1732). "The Beggar's Opera"; "The Shepherd's Week";
+"Trivia"; "Rural Sports"; fables, and other short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Matthew Green</b> (1696-1737). "The Grotto"; "The Spleen."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Dyer</b> (1698-1758). "Grongar Hill"; "The Fleece."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Blair</b> (1699-1746). "The Grave."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>James Thomson</b> (1700-1748). "The Seasons"; "The Castle of Indolence."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Johnson</b> (1709-1784), "The Vanity of Human Wishes"; "London."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Glover</b> (1712-1785). "Leonidas"; "Admiral Hosier's Ghost"; "The
+Athenaid."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Shenstone</b> (1714-1763). "The Schoolmistress"; "Pastoral Ballads."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Gray</b> (1716-1771). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Collins</b> (1721-1759). Odes and other short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Mark Akenside</b> (1721-1770). "The Pleasures of the Imagination."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Oliver Goldsmith</b> (1728-1774). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Warton</b> (1728-1790). "The Pleasures of Melancholy"; "The Triumph
+of Isis"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Cowper</b> (1731-1800). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Charles Churchill</b> (1731-1764). "The Prophecy of Famine"; "The Rosciad."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>James Beattie</b> (1735-1803). "The Minstrel."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Fergusson</b> (1750-1774). Short Scottish poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Chatterton</b> (1752-1770). "Poems of Thomas Rowlie"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Crabbe</b> (1754-1832). "Tales of the Hall"; "The Village"; "The
+Parish Register"; "Tales in Verse."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Blake</b> (1757-1827). "Songs of Innocence"; "Songs of Experience";
+"Poetical Sketches."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Burns</b> (1759-1796). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>[<a href="./images/97.png">97</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Robert Burns.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE COTTER'S<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" class="marker" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 60%;">1</a> SATURDAY NIGHT.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Inscribed To R. Aiken, Esq.</span><a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" class="marker" style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 70%;">2</a></h3>
+
+<div class="poemind2">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The short but simple annals of the Poor.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" class="marker">3</a>&mdash;<i>Gray.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My loved, my honored, much respected friend!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No mercenary bard his homage pays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lowly train<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" class="marker">5</a> in life's sequestered scene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Aiken in a cottage would have been;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! though his worth unknown, far happier there I ween.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The short'ning winter-day is near a close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This night his weekly moil is at an end,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>[<a href="./images/98.png">98</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length his lonely cot appears in view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' expectant wee things toddlin', stacher thro'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wine's smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lisping infant prattling on his knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Belyve, the elder bairns<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" class="marker">9</a> come drapping in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At service out, amang the farmers roun';<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some ca'<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" class="marker">10</a> the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cannie errand to a neibor<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" class="marker">11</a> town:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or deposit<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" class="marker">12</a> her sair-won penny-fee,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anticipation forward points the view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother wi' her needle an' her shears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>[<a href="./images/99.png">99</a>]</span><span class="i0">Their master's and their mistress's command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The younkers a' are warned to obey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mind their labors wi' an eydent hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And, oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Implore His counsel and assisting might:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do some errands, and convoy her hame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wily mother sees the conscious flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wi' heart-struck anxious care inquires his name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben;<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A strappin' youth; he takes the mother's eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O happy love! where love like this is found!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>[<a href="./images/100.png">100</a>]</span><span class="i0">I've paced much this weary, mortal round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sage experience bids me this declare:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cordial in this melancholy vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In other's arms breathe out the tender tale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there, in human form, that bears a heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Points to the parents fondling o'er their child?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now the supper crowns their simple board,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sowpe their only hawkie<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" class="marker">17</a> does afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dame brings forth in complimental mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell.<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The big ha'-Bible,<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" class="marker">19</a> ance his father's pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>[<a href="./images/101.png">101</a>]</span><span class="i0">His bonnet<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" class="marker">20</a> rev'rently is laid aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wales a portion with judicious care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They chant their artless notes in simple guise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps "Dundee's" wild warbling measures rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy of the name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or noble "Elgin" beets<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" class="marker">21</a> the heavenward flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Compared with these, Italian trills are tame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The priest-like father reads the sacred page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How Abram was the friend of God on high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Amalek's ungracious progeny;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or how the royal bard did groaning lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How He, who bore in Heaven the second name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had not on earth whereon to lay His head:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How His first followers and servants sped;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>[<a href="./images/102.png">102</a>]</span><span class="i0">How he, who lone in Patmos banished,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The saint, the father, and the husband prays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thus they all shall meet in future days:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There ever bask in uncreated rays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Together hymning their Creator's praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In such society, yet still more dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all the pomp of method and of art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When men display to congregations wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devotion's every grace, except the heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" class="marker">23</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, haply, in some cottage far apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then homeward all take off their several way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youngling cottagers retire to rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parent-pair their secret homage pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And proffer up to Heaven the warm request,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For them and for their little ones provide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>[<a href="./images/103.png">103</a>]</span><span class="i0">From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That makes her loved at home, revered abroad:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"An honest man's the noblest work of God:"<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cottage leaves the palace far behind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is a lordling's pomp?&mdash;a cumbrous load,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disguising oft the wretch of human kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From luxury's contagion, weak and vile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A virtuous populace may rise the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved isle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That streamed thro' Wallace's<a name="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" id="marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" class="marker">25</a> undaunted heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or nobly die, the second glorious part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O never, never, Scotia's realm desert;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem, composed in 1785, is written partly in the Scottish dialect,
+partly in English. The livelier passages are in the poet's vernacular;
+the loftier or more solemn parts in the language of books. This
+distinction <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>[<a href="./images/104.png">104</a>]</span>was doubtless made because Burns disliked to treat his
+higher themes in a merely colloquial manner, fearing to belittle them by
+so doing. The household described was probably that of the poet's own
+father; it was at least a typical Scotch peasant's household, with which
+no one was more familiar. Gilbert Burns, in a letter to Dr. Currie,
+says: "Although the 'Cotter' in the Saturday Night, is an exact copy of
+my father in his manners, his family devotions, and exhortations, yet
+the other parts of the description do not apply to our family. None of
+us ever went 'At service out amang the neibors roun'.' Instead of our
+depositing our 'sair-won penny-fee' with our parents, my father labored
+hard, and lived with the most rigid economy, that he might be able to
+keep his children at home."</p>
+
+<p>The influence of Gray and Goldsmith is very apparent in more than one
+passage in this poem.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert had frequently remarked to me," said his brother, "that there
+was something particularly venerable in the phrase, 'Let us worship
+God,' used by a decent, sober head of a family introducing family
+worship. To this sentiment of the author, the world is indebted for 'The
+Cotter's Saturday Night.' The hint of the plan and title of the poem is
+taken from Ferguson's 'Farmer's Ingle.'"</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_1">1.</a> <b>Cotter.</b> "One who inhabits a cot, or cottage, dependent on a
+farm."&mdash;<i>Jamieson.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_2">2.</a> <b>R. Aiken.</b> A friend with whom Burns had been brought into contact
+during the Old and New Light Controversy.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_3">3.</a> See Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," eighth stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_4">4.</a> <b>lays.</b> Songs; probably from the same root as the German <i>lied</i>. The
+word was originally applied to a form of elegiac French poetry, much
+imitated by the English.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_5">5.</a> <b>train.</b> A favorite word with the poets at this time. Goldsmith uses it
+no fewer than six times in the "Deserted Village." The original meaning
+is something drawn along; from Lat. <i>traho</i>, to draw.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_6">6.</a> <b>sugh.</b> Also spelled <i>sough</i>. Whistling sound, murmur. Derived from the
+same root as sigh, for which word it is used by Burns in his lines, "On
+the Battle of Sherriffmuir":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My heart for fear gae sough for sough<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To hear the thuds," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_7">7.</a> Compare with Gray's "Elegy," line 3:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The ploughman homeward plods his weary way."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_8">8.</a> Toil was perhaps pronounced <i>tile</i>, thus properly rhyming with
+<i>beguile</i>. Johnson, in "London," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On all thy hours security shall smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And bless thine evening walk and morning toil."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>[<a href="./images/105.png">105</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_9">9.</a> <b>bairns.</b> From A.-S. <i>bearns</i>, children.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_10">10.</a> <b>ca'.</b> Drive, follow. Probably not from the same root as our common
+word <i>call</i>. Kingsley uses it in this sense in the line:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Go, Mary, go, and call the cattle home."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11">11.</a> <b>neibor.</b> Neighboring. Milton, in "Comus," uses the expressions: "Some
+neighbor woodman," "some neighbor villager"; and Shakespeare says: "A
+neighbor thicket" ("Love's Labour Lost"), and "neighbor room"
+("Hamlet").</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_12">12.</a> <b>deposit.</b> Pronounced here <i>dep&acute;o-zit</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_13">13.</a> <b>penny-fee.</b> Fee, wages, from A.-S. <i>feoh</i>, cattle. "Cattle," says
+Bosworth, "was the first kind of property; and, by bartering, this word
+came to signify money in general." So, too, the word <i>penny</i> is from
+A.-S. <i>penig</i>, Icelandic <i>peningr</i>, cattle. The word <i>penny</i>, as in this
+country the word <i>dollar</i>, is used indefinitely for <i>money</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_14">14.</a> Observe that in quoting the words of the Cotter the poet partially
+drops the Ayrshire dialect and uses a purer English.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_15">15.</a> <b>ben.</b> Within. The inner part of the house; from O. E. <i>binnan</i>,
+within. Its opposite is <i>but</i>, the outside of the house.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_16">16.</a> <b>kye.</b> Cattle, from O.-E. <i>cu</i>, or <i>kie</i>. <i>Kine</i> is derived from the
+same root, and probably <i>cow</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_17">17.</a> <b>hawkie.</b> This word, says Hales, "denotes, properly, a cow with a
+white face. So, in Northumberland, <i>bawsand</i> was used of an animal with
+a white spot on its forehead, and <i>crummie</i> of a cow with crooked
+horns."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_18">18.</a> <b>sin' lint was i' the bell.</b> Since flax was in bloom. That is, the
+cheese was a year old last flax-blossoming time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_19">19.</a> <b>ha'-Bible.</b> The hall Bible&mdash;the Bible kept in the best room.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_20">20.</a> <b>bonnet.</b> This word in Scotch denotes a man's head-covering. In early
+English it was used in the same sense.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_21">21.</a> <b>beets.</b> Feeds,&mdash;that is, gives fuel to the flame.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It warms me, it charms me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">To mention but her name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">It heats me, it beets me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">And sets me a' on flame."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Burns's Epistle to Davie, a brother poet.</i></p>
+
+<p>The word is probably from A.-S. <i>betan</i>, to better, to mend; from which,
+also, we have the words <i>beat</i>, to excel, <i>better</i>, <i>best</i>, etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_22">22.</a> Burns refers the reader to Pope's "Windsor Forest" for this
+quotation. He probably had in mind the line in the "Essay on Man":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hope springs eternal in the human breast."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>[<a href="./images/106.png">106</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_23">23.</a> <b>sacerdotal stole.</b> A long, narrow scarf with fringed ends, and
+richly embroidered, worn by the clergy upon special occasions.
+<b>Sacerdotal</b>, from Lat. <i>sacerdos</i>, a priest. <b>Stole</b>, from Lat. <i>stola</i>, a
+long dress worn by Roman women over their tunic and fastened with a
+girdle.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_24">24.</a> Pope's "Essay on Man," Epistle iv, line 247.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25" id="Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_25">25.</a> William Wallace (1270-1305), the Scotch national hero was, like
+Burns, a native of Ayrshire.</p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for The Cotters Saturday Night" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">VOCABULARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>aft</b>, often.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ingle</b>, fire.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>amaist</b>, almost.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>jauk</b>, trifle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>amang</b>, among.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kebbuck</b>, cheese.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ance</b>, once.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kens</b>, understands.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>auld</b>, old.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lathefu'</b>, shy.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>belyve</b>, by and by.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lave</b>, the rest.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blate</b>, bashful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lyart</b>, gray.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blinkin</b>, gleaming.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>miry</b>, muddy, dusty.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blythe</b>, happy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>moil</b>, labor.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>braw</b>, brave, fine.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>nae</b>, no.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cannie</b>, easy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>parritch</b>, porridge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>carking</b>, fretting.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pleugh</b>, plough.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>certes</b>, certain.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rin</b>, run.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>chows</b>, chews.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sair-won</b>, hard-earned.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>claes</b>, clothes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sowpe</b>, milk.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>convoy</b>, accompany.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spiers</b>, inquires.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cracks</b>, talks.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stacher</b>, stagger.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>craws</b>, crows.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>strappin'</b>, strapping, stout.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>drapping</b>, dropping.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tentie</b>, attentively.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>eydent</b>, diligent.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>towmond</b>, twelvemonth.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fell</b>, tasty.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>uncos</b>, unknown things, new.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flichterin</b>, fluttering.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wales</b>, chooses.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>frae</b>, from.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wee bit</b>, little.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gang</b>, go.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weel</b>, well.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gars</b>, makes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wee things</b>, little folks.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>guid</b>, good.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weel-hained</b>, well-kept.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hae</b>, have.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wiles</b>, knowledge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>haffets</b>, temples.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wily</b>, knowing.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hafflins</b>, half.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>youngling</b>, youthful.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halesome</b>, wholesome.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>younkers</b>, youngsters, children.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hallan</b>, partition wall.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>'yont</b>, on the other side of.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>hameward</b>, homeward.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>[<a href="./images/107.png">107</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">On turning one down with the Plough, in April, 1786.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wee, modest, crimson-tipp&eacute;d flow'r,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou's met me in an evil hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I maun crush amang the stoure<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy slender stem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To spare thee now is past my power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thou bonnie gem.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alas! it's no thy neibor sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bonnie lark, companion meet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wi' spreckled breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When upward springing, blythe to greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The purpling east.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cauld blew the bitter-biting north<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon thy early humble birth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Amid the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce reared above the parent earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thy tender form.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High sheltering woods an' wa's maun shield;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou, beneath the random bield<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O' clod or stane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adorns the histie stibble-field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Unseen, alane.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>[<a href="./images/108.png">108</a>]</span><span class="i0">There, in thy scanty mantle clad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou lifts thy unassuming head<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In humble guise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the share uptears thy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And low thou lies!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the fate of artless maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By love's simplicity betrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And guileless trust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Low i' the dust.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the fate of simple bard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On life's rough ocean luckless starred!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unskilful he to note the card<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of prudent lore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And whelm him o'er!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such fate to suffering worth is given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who long with wants and woes has striven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By human pride or cunning driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To misery's brink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He, ruined, sink!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fate is thine&mdash;no distant date;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Full on thy bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shall be thy doom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>[<a href="./images/109.png">109</a>]</span></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for To A Mountain Daisy" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">VOCABULARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bield</b>, protection.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maun</b>, must.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>blythe</b>, happy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spreckled</b>, speckled.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bonnie</b>, pretty.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stibble</b>, stubble.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>card</b>, compass.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>stoure</b>, dust.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>glinted</b>, passed quickly.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weet</b>, wetness.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>histie</b>, barren.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wrenched</b>, deprived.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there, for honest poverty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That hangs his head, and a' that?<a name="marker_For_A_That_1" id="marker_For_A_That_1"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The coward slave, we pass him by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We dare be poor for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our toils obscure, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rank is but the guinea's stamp,<a name="marker_For_A_That_2" id="marker_For_A_That_2"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The man's the gowd<a name="marker_For_A_That_3" id="marker_For_A_That_3"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_3" class="marker">3</a> for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What though on hamely fare we dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A man's a man for a' that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Their tinsel show, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The honest man, though e'er sae poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is king o' men for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ye see yon birkie,<a name="marker_For_A_That_4" id="marker_For_A_That_4"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_4" class="marker">4</a> ca'd a lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though hundreds worship at his word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He's but a coof<a name="marker_For_A_That_5" id="marker_For_A_That_5"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_5" class="marker">5</a> for a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>[<a href="./images/110.png">110</a>]</span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">His riband, star, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The man of independent mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He looks and laughs at a' that.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A prince can mak a belted knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A marquis, duke, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But an honest man's aboon<a name="marker_For_A_That_6" id="marker_For_A_That_6"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_6" class="marker">6</a> his might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Guid faith, he maunna fa'<a name="marker_For_A_That_7" id="marker_For_A_That_7"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_7" class="marker">7</a> that!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Their dignities, and a' that;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Are higher ranks than a' that!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then let us pray that come it may&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As come it will for a' that&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May bear the gree,<a name="marker_For_A_That_8" id="marker_For_A_That_8"></a><a href="#Note_For_A_That_8" class="marker">8</a> and a' that.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For a' that, and a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">It's coming yet, for a' that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That man to man, the warld o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shall brothers be for a' that!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_1" id="Note_For_A_That_1"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_1">1.</a> Is there anything in honest poverty to cause one to hang his head,
+etc.?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_2" id="Note_For_A_That_2"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_2">2.</a> Explain lines 7 and 8 fully.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_3" id="Note_For_A_That_3"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_3">3.</a> <b>gowd</b>, gold.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_4" id="Note_For_A_That_4"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_4">4.</a> <b>birkie</b>, fellow.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_5" id="Note_For_A_That_5"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_5">5.</a> <b>coof</b>, fool.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_6" id="Note_For_A_That_6"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_6">6.</a> <b>aboon his might</b>, above his power.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_7" id="Note_For_A_That_7"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_7">7.</a> <b>maunna fa'</b>, may not get.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_For_A_That_8" id="Note_For_A_That_8"></a><a href="#marker_For_A_That_8">8.</a> <b>gree</b>, palm, supremacy.</p>
+
+<p>"Burns was not only the poet of love, but also of the new excitement
+about man. Himself poor, he sang the poor. Neither poverty nor low birth
+made a man the worse&mdash;the man was 'a man for a' that.'"&mdash;<i>Stopford
+Brooke.</i></p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[<a href="./images/111.png">111</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Burns</span> was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His childhood and
+youth were spent in poverty on his father's farm, where he learned to
+plough, reap, mow, and thresh in the barn, but where opportunities for
+education were such only as Scottish peasants know. In 1784 his father
+died, and he attempted to manage a farm of his own at Mossgiel. The
+experiment proving to be a failure, he resolved to leave Scotland, and
+secured an appointment to a clerkship in Jamaica. Just before the time
+set for his departure, he learned of the success of a volume of his
+poems which had just been published at Kilmarnock; and, instead of
+departing for the West Indies, he made a visit to Edinburgh. He was
+welcomed by the best society, and received at once into the literary
+circles of the Scottish capital. "His name and fame flashed like
+sunshine over the land: the shepherd on the hill, the maiden at her
+wheel, learned his songs by heart, and the first scholars of Scotland
+courted his acquaintance." A second edition of his poems was published
+in 1787, and with the proceeds&mdash;about $2500&mdash;he took a farm at
+Ellisland, in Nithsdale. But his habits were such that he made sad
+failure a second time in the experiment of farming; and, after two years
+of mismanagement, to eke out his scanty income he accepted an
+appointment as exciseman. In 1791, "unfortunately both for his health
+and for his reputation," he removed to Dumfries, where, five years
+later, he died.</p>
+
+<p>"While the Shakespeares and Miltons roll on like mighty rivers through
+the country of Thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous
+pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valclusa Fountain will also
+arrest our eye; for this also is of Nature's own and most cunning
+workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth, with a full gushing
+current, into the light of day; and often will the traveller turn aside
+to drink of its clear waters, and muse among its rocks and
+pines."&mdash;<i>Carlyle.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Burns is not the poet's poet, which Shelley no doubt meant to be, or
+the philosopher's poet, which Wordsworth, in spite of himself, is. He is
+the poet of homely human nature, not half so homely or prosaic as it
+seems. His genius, in a manner all its own, associates itself with the
+fortunes, experiences, memorable moments, of human <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>[<a href="./images/112.png">112</a>]</span>beings whose
+humanity is their sole patrimony; to whom 'liberty and whatever, like
+liberty, has the power</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To raise a man above the brute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mak him ken himsel,'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>is their portion in life; for whom the great epochs and
+never-to-be-forgotten phases of existence are those which are occasioned
+by emotions inseparable from the consciousness of existence. For the
+great majority of his readers, and therefore for the mass of human
+beings, the sympathy which exists between him and them is sympathy
+relative to their strongest and deepest feelings, and this is sympathy
+out of which personal affection naturally springs, and in the strength
+of which it cannot but grow strong."&mdash;<i>John Service.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Burns was not like Shakespeare in the range of his genius, but there is
+something of the same magnanimity, directness, and unaffected character
+about him. With but little of Shakespeare's imagination or inventive
+power, he had the same life of mind; within the narrow circle of
+personal feeling or domestic incidents, the pulse of his poetry flows as
+healthily and vigorously. He had an eye to see, a heart to feel,&mdash;no
+more. His pictures of good fellowship, of social life, of quaint humor,
+are equal to anything; they come up to nature, and they cannot go beyond
+it."&mdash;<i>Hazlitt.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His is that language of the heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">In which the answering heart would speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Or the smile light the cheek.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0i">"And his that music to whose tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The common pulse of man keeps time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">In cot or castle's mirth or moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">In cold or sunny clime."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Fitz-Greene Halleck.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Bannockburn; Auld Lang Syne; Tam O' Shanter; To
+a Mouse; The Jolly Beggars; Ye Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon; Highland
+Mary; Address to the Deil; To Mary in Heaven.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References</span>: Carlyle's Essay on <i>Robert Burns</i>; <i>Burns</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by J. C. Shairp; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>[<a href="./images/113.png">113</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Cowper.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>BOADICEA.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the British warrior queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bleeding from the Roman rods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought, with an indignant mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Counsel from her country's gods,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sage beneath the spreading oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat the Druid, hoary chief;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every burning word he spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Full of rage, and full of grief.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Princess! if our aged eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis because resentment ties<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All the terrors of our tongues.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Rome shall perish&mdash;write that word<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the blood that she has spilt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep in ruin as in guilt.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Rome, for empire far renown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tramples on a thousand states;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hark, the Gaul is at her gates!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>[<a href="./images/114.png">114</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Other Romans shall arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heedless of a soldier's name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounds, not arms,<a name="marker_Boadicea_1" id="marker_Boadicea_1"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_1" class="marker">1</a> shall win the prize;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Harmony the path to fame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then the progeny that springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the forests of our land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,<a name="marker_Boadicea_2" id="marker_Boadicea_2"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall a wider world command.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Regions C&aelig;sar never knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy posterity shall sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where his eagles never flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">None invincible as they."<a name="marker_Boadicea_3" id="marker_Boadicea_3"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such the bard's prophetic words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pregnant with celestial fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending as he swept the chords<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of his sweet but awful lyre.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She, with all the monarch's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Felt them in her bosom glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rush'd to battle, fought and died;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dying, hurled them<a name="marker_Boadicea_4" id="marker_Boadicea_4"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_4" class="marker">4</a> at the foe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ruffians, pitiless as proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaven awards the vengeance due;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Empire is on us bestowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shame and ruin wait for you.<a name="marker_Boadicea_5" id="marker_Boadicea_5"></a><a href="#Note_Boadicea_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, a powerful and warlike tribe of
+Britons, about the middle of the first century. Upon the death of her
+husband, Prasutagus, her kingdom was seized by the Romans, and she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>[<a href="./images/115.png">115</a>]</span>herself, for some real or imaginary offence, was publicly scourged.
+During the absence of the Roman governor from that part of England,
+Boadicea raised an immense army, burned the city of London, and put
+70,000 Romans to the sword. She afterwards, with 230,000 troops, met the
+Roman army, under Suetonius, in the field, and although the Romans could
+muster only 10,000 soldiers, the British army was defeated, and the
+queen, in despair, ended her own life by taking poison.</p>
+
+<p>In this poem, Cowper represents the queen as, soon after her shameful
+treatment by the Romans, seeking counsel from one of the native priests.
+The Druid prophesies the destruction of Rome and the future greatness of
+Britain.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Boadicea_1" id="Note_Boadicea_1"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_1">1.</a> <b>Sounds, not arms.</b> Does the poet allude to the cultivation of oratory
+and poetry among the Romans and the neglect of military affairs?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_2" id="Note_Boadicea_2"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_2">2.</a> <b>Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings.</b> What do these expressions mean?
+To what do they refer?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_3" id="Note_Boadicea_3"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_3">3.</a> Explain the prophecy included in this stanza.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_4" id="Note_Boadicea_4"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_4">4.</a> <b>hurled them.</b> Hurled what?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Boadicea_5" id="Note_Boadicea_5"></a><a href="#marker_Boadicea_5">5.</a> This stanza, evidently a part of the imprecation which Boadicea
+"hurled" at her enemies, ought to be enclosed with quotation marks, but
+in most versions of the poem it appears without them.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, that those lips had language! Life has passed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With me but roughly since I heard thee last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those lips are thine&mdash;thy own sweet smile I see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The same that oft in childhood solaced me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The meek intelligence of those dear eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Blessed be the art that can immortalize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To quench it) here shines on me still the same.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>[<a href="./images/116.png">116</a>]</span><span class="i1">Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O welcome guest, though unexpected here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who bidst me honor with an artless song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affectionate, a mother lost so long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will obey, not willingly alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But gladly, as the precept were her own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while that face renews my filial grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall steep<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_1" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_1"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_1" class="marker">1</a> me in Elysian reverie,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_2" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_2"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A momentary dream that thou art she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My mother! when I learnt<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_3" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_3"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_3" class="marker">3</a> that thou wast dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wretch even then, life's journey just begun?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! that maternal smile! It answers&mdash;Yes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, turning from my nursery window, drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But was it such?&mdash;It was.&mdash;Where thou art gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parting word shall pass my lips no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maidens, grieved themselves at my concern,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_4" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_4"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft gave me promise of thy quick return.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What ardently I wished I long believed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, disappointed still, was still deceived.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By expectation every day beguiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dupe of <i>to-morrow</i> even from a child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>[<a href="./images/117.png">117</a>]</span><span class="i0">I learned at last submission to my lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Children not thine have trod my nursery floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the gardener Robin, day by day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drew me to school along the public way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis now become a history little known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That once we called the pastoral house our own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short-lived possession! but the record fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still outlives many a storm that has effaced<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand other themes less deeply traced.<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_5" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_5"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The biscuit, or confectionary plum;<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_6" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_6"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this, and more endearing still than all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That humor interposed too often makes;<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_7" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_7"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this still legible in memory's page,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still to be so to my latest age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such honors to thee as my numbers may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The violet, the pink, and jessamine,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>[<a href="./images/118.png">118</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">I pricked them into paper with a pin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(And thou wast happier than myself the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could those few pleasant days again appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would not trust my heart&mdash;the dear delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But no&mdash;what here we call our life is such<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So little to be loved, and thou so much,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I should ill requite thee to constrain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou, as a gallant bark<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_8" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_8"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_8" class="marker">8</a> from Albion's coast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shoots into port at some well-havened isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There sits quiescent on the floods that show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beauteous form reflected clear below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While airs impregnated with incense play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar."<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_9" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_9"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of life long since has anchored by thy side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Always from port withheld, always distressed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And day by day some current's thwarting force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My boast is not, that I deduce my birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[<a href="./images/119.png">119</a>]</span><span class="i0">But higher far my proud pretensions rise&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The son of parents passed into the skies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, farewell&mdash;Time unrevoked has run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wonted course, yet what I wished is done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To have renewed the joys that once were mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without the sin of violating thine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I can view this mimic show of thee,<a name="marker_On_the_Receipt_10" id="marker_On_the_Receipt_10"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Receipt_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time has but half succeeded in his theft&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This, one of the most exquisite poems in the language, was written by
+Cowper in "the last glimmering of the evening light," before his mind
+was wholly overwhelmed by the final attack of insanity. "Every line is
+instinct with a profound and chastened feeling, to which it would be
+difficult to find a parallel. There is not a phrase, not a word, which
+jars upon the most susceptible ear, not a tinge of exaggeration, not a
+touch that is excessive. The fact that he who gave forth these supreme
+utterances of filial love was old himself when he did it, brings into
+the relationship a strange, tender equality which is marvellously
+touching."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_1" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_1"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_1">1.</a> <b>steep.</b> Imbue. From Ger. <i>stippen</i>. From the same root as <i>dip</i>, with
+the letter <i>s</i> prefixed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_2" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_2"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_2">2.</a> <b>Elysian reverie.</b> Heavenly meditation. See note on Elysium, page <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_3" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_3"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_3">3.</a> <b>when I learnt.</b> Cowper was only six years old when his mother died.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_4" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_4"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_4">4.</a> <b>concern.</b> Distress, anxiety.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_5" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_5"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_5">5.</a> Nearly fifty years after his mother's death, Cowper wrote: "I can
+truly say that not a week passes (perhaps I might with equal veracity
+say a day) in which I do not think of her; such was the impression her
+tenderness made upon me, though the opportunity she had for showing it
+was so short."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>[<a href="./images/120.png">120</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_6" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_6"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_6">6.</a> <b>plum.</b> Perhaps the gravest fault in this poem is the frequent
+intermixture, as in these two lines, of trivial thoughts and
+circumstances with those of a more noble character.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_7" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_7"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_7">7.</a> Explain the metaphor which the poet attempts to carry through these
+three lines. <b>Brakes</b> = <i>breaks</i>, interruptions. What is the meaning of
+<i>humor</i>?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_8" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_8"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_8">8.</a> <b>as a gallant bark.</b> Observe the beauty of the simile in these twelve
+lines, also of the simile which follows.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_9" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_9"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_9">9.</a> Probably misquoted from "The Dispensary," by Samuel Garth
+(1670-1719):</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To die is landing on some silent shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where billows never break nor tempests roar."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Receipt_10" id="Note_On_the_Receipt_10"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Receipt_10">10.</a> <b>this mimic show.</b> Explain the meaning of this expression.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>EPITAPH ON A HARE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor swifter greyhound follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who, nursed with tender care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to domestic bounds confined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was still a wild Jack hare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though duly from my hand he took<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His pittance every night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He did it with a jealous look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, when he could, would bite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His diet was of wheaten bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And milk, and oats, and straw;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thistles, or lettuces instead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With sand to scour his maw.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[<a href="./images/121.png">121</a>]</span><span class="i0">On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On pippins' russet peel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, when his juicy salads failed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sliced carrot pleased him well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Turkey carpet was his lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whereon he loved to bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To skip and gambol like a fawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And swing his rump around.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His frisking was at evening hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For then he lost his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most before approaching showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or when a storm drew near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eight years and five round-rolling moons<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He thus saw steal away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dozing out all his idle noons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And every night at play.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I kept him for his humor's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For he would oft beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart of thoughts that made it ache,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And force me to a smile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now beneath this walnut shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He finds his long last home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waits, in snug concealment laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till gentler Puss shall come.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He, still more ag&egrave;d, feels the shocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From which no care can save,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, partner once of Tiney's box,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Must soon partake his grave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>[<a href="./images/122.png">122</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Cowper</span> was born at Great Berkhamstead, November 26, 1731. His
+father was the rector of the parish, and his mother was Ann Donne of the
+family of the famous John Donne. Cowper was educated at a private school
+and afterwards at Westminster. It was intended that he should follow the
+profession of law, and, after the completion of his studies at
+Westminster, he entered the Middle Temple and was articled to a
+solicitor. At the age of twenty-two, through the influence of his uncle,
+Major Cowper, he was appointed to two clerkships in the House of Lords.
+The excitement brought on by this occurrence, together with an unhappy
+love affair, induced an attack of insanity, from which he suffered for
+more than a year. In 1773 he suffered from a second attack of insanity,
+which continued for sixteen months. It was not until 1780, when in his
+fiftieth year, that he began really to write poetry. His first volume
+was published in 1782, and comprised, besides several shorter pieces,
+the three poems, "Conversation," "Retirement," and "Table Talk." His
+second volume appeared in 1785, and contained "The Task," "Tirocinium,"
+and the ballad of "John Gilpin," which had already become famous through
+the recitations of one Henderson, an actor. Cowper's translation of
+Homer was completed and published in 1791. From that time until his
+death in 1800 he suffered from hopeless dejection, regarding himself as
+an object of divine wrath, a condemned and forsaken outcast.</p>
+
+<p>Cowper was not a great poet; but he was the first to abandon the
+mechanical versification and conventional phrases of the artificial
+poets, to find inspiration and guidance in nature. It may be said that
+he lacked creative power; but he possessed a quickness of thought, a
+depth of feeling, and a certain manliness and sincerity, which lifted
+him above the level of the ordinary versifiers of his time.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Castaway; John Gilpin; The Task; The Loss of
+the Royal George.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Southey's <i>Life of William Cowper</i>; <i>Cowper</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Goldwin Smith; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; Macaulay's Essay
+on <i>Moore's Life of Byron</i>; <i>Life of Cowper</i>, in the "Globe Edition" of
+his works.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>[<a href="./images/123.png">123</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Oliver Goldsmith.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THREE PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There as I pass'd, with careless steps and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mingling notes came soften'd from below:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The playful children just let loose from school,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the sounds of population fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all the bloomy flush of life is fled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All but yon widow'd, solitary thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, wretched matron&mdash;forc'd in age, for bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>[<a href="./images/124.png">124</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">She only left of all the harmless train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sad historian of the pensive plain!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village preacher's<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" class="marker">1</a> modest mansion rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And passing<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" class="marker">2</a> rich with forty pounds<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" class="marker">3</a> a year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remote from towns he ran his godly race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His house was known to all the vagrant train;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The long-remembered beggar was his guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broken soldier,<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" class="marker">4</a> kindly bade to stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat by his fire, and talked the night away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wept o'er his wounds or, tales of sorrow done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quite forgot their vices in their woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless their merits or their faults to scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His pity gave ere charity began.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in his duty prompt at every call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[<a href="./images/125.png">125</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as a bird each fond endearment tries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the bed where parting life was laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reverend champion stood. At his control<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his last faltering accents whispered praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At church, with meek and unaffected grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His looks adorned the venerable place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The service past, around the pious man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even children followed with endearing wile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plucked his gown to share the good man's smile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eternal sunshine settles on its head.<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There in his noisy mansion,<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" class="marker">6</a> skilled to rule,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village master taught his little school.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man severe he was, and stern to view;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew him well, and every truant knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>[<a href="./images/126.png">126</a>]</span><span class="i0">Well had the boding<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" class="marker">7</a> tremblers learned to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day's disasters in his morning face;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full well the busy whisper circling round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The love he bore to learning was in fault;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" class="marker">8</a> all declared how much he knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lands he could measure, terms and tides<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" class="marker">9</a> presage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And e'en the story ran that he could gauge:<a name="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" id="marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10"></a><a href="#Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While words of learned length and thundering sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That one small head could carry all he knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But past is all his fame. The very spot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_1">1.</a> <b>The village preacher.</b>&mdash;"This picture of the village pastor," says
+Irving, "which was taken in part from the character of his father,
+embodied likewise the recollections of his brother Henry; for the
+natures of the father and son seem to have been identical.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. To us the
+whole character seems traced as it were in an expiatory spirit; as if,
+conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble himself
+at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to practise."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_2">2.</a> <b>passing rich.</b> Exceedingly rich. The word is a common one among the
+poets. "Is she not passing fair?" (Shakespeare, "Two Gentlemen of
+Verona," Act iv, sc. 4); "How passing sweet is solitude" (Cowper,
+"Retirement").</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>[<a href="./images/127.png">127</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_3">3.</a> <b>forty pounds.</b> In his dedication of "The Traveller," Goldsmith refers
+to his brother Henry as "a man who, despising fame and fortune, has
+retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of forty pounds
+a year."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_4">4.</a> <b>broken soldier.</b> See "The Soldier's Dream," Campbell.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_5">5.</a> The simile included in these four lines, says Lord Lytton, is
+translated almost literally from a poem by the Abb&eacute; de Chaulieu, who
+died in 1720. "Every one must own," adds he, "that, in copying,
+Goldsmith wonderfully improved the original."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_6">6.</a> <b>The village master.</b>&mdash;The portrait here drawn of the village
+schoolmaster is from Goldsmith's own teacher, Thomas Byrne, with whom he
+was placed when six years old. "Byrne had been educated for a
+pedagogue," says Irving, "but had enlisted in the army, served abroad
+during the wars of Queen Anne's time, and risen to the rank of
+quartermaster of a regiment in Spain. At the return of peace, having no
+longer exercise for the sword, he resumed the ferule, and drilled the
+urchin populace of Lissoy.</p>
+
+<p>"There are certain whimsical traits in the character of Byrne, not given
+in the foregoing sketch. He was fond of talking of his vagabond
+wanderings in foreign lands, and had brought with him from the wars a
+world of campaigning stories of which he was generally the hero, and
+which he would deal forth to his wondering scholars when he ought to
+have been teaching them their lessons. These travellers' tales had a
+powerful effect upon the vivid imagination of Goldsmith, and awakened an
+unconquerable passion for wandering and seeking adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"Byrne was, moreover, of a romantic vein, and exceedingly superstitious.
+He was deeply versed in the fairy superstitions which abound in Ireland,
+all which he professed implicitly to believe. Under his tuition
+Goldsmith soon became almost as great a proficient in fairy lore."</p>
+
+<p><b>noisy mansion.</b> The old-time school-room was a noisy place, the pupils
+studying their lessons aloud, and but little care being taken to secure
+quietness at any time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_7">7.</a> <b>boding.</b> Foreboding; seeing that which is about to happen. From A.-S.
+<i>bodian</i>, to announce, to foretell.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_8">8.</a> <b>village.</b> Villagers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_9">9.</a> <b>terms and tides.</b> Times and seasons. <b>presage.</b> Foreknow. From Lat.
+<i>pre</i>, before, and <i>sagio</i>, to perceive.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10" id="Note_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10"></a><a href="#marker_Pictures_From_the_Deserted_Village_10">10.</a> <b>gauge.</b> Measure liquids. The humor in this and in some other
+expressions in these verses is too apparent to require comment.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>[<a href="./images/128.png">128</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Oliver Goldsmith</span> was born at Pallas, county of Longford, Ireland, on the
+10th of November, 1728. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and
+afterwards studied medicine at Edinburgh and at Leyden. After travelling
+on foot through portions of Western Europe, he made his way to London,
+where he was in turn assistant to a chemist, usher in a school at
+Peckham, and literary hack for one of the leading monthly publications.
+He afterwards contributed many articles, both in prose and poetry, to
+the leading periodicals of the time. He wrote "The Traveller" in 1764,
+and "The Deserted Village" and <i>The Vicar of Wakefield</i> in 1770. He died
+in his chambers in Brick Court, London, April 4, 1774. For a full
+account of his life, read Macaulay's Essay on Oliver Goldsmith.</p>
+
+<p>"The naturalness and ease of Goldsmith's poetry," says Edward Dowden,
+"are those of an accomplished craftsman. His verse, which flows towards
+the close of the period with such a gentle yet steady advance, is not
+less elaborated than that of Pope; and Goldsmith conceived his verse
+more in paragraphs than in couplets. His artless words were, each one,
+delicately chosen; his simple constructions were studiously sought." And
+Sir Walter Scott said of him: "It would be difficult to point out one
+among the English poets less likely to be excelled in his own style.
+Possessing much of Pope's versification without the monotonous structure
+of his lines; rising sometimes to the swell and fulness of Dryden,
+without his inflections; delicate and masterly in his descriptions;
+graceful in one of the greatest graces of poetry, its transitions; alike
+successful in his sportive or grave, his playful or melancholy mood; he
+may long bid defiance to the numerous competitors whom the friendship or
+flattery of the present age is so hastily arraying against him."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Traveller; the rest of The Deserted Village;
+Retaliation.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Irving's <i>Life of Goldsmith</i>; Forster's <i>Life and Times of
+Oliver Goldsmith</i>; Macaulay's Essay on <i>Goldsmith</i>; Thackeray's <i>English
+Humorists of the Eighteenth Century</i>; De Quincey's <i>Eighteenth Century</i>;
+Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>; <i>Goldsmith</i> (English Men of Letters), by
+William Black.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>[<a href="./images/129.png">129</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Thomas Gray.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BARD.</h2>
+
+<h3>I. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Confusion on thy banners wait;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,<a name="marker_The_Bard_1" id="marker_The_Bard_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They mock the air with idle state.<a name="marker_The_Bard_2" id="marker_The_Bard_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Helm, nor hauberk's<a name="marker_The_Bard_3" id="marker_The_Bard_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_3" class="marker">3</a> twisted mail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From Cambria's<a name="marker_The_Bard_4" id="marker_The_Bard_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_4" class="marker">4</a> curse, from Cambria's tears!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As down the steep of Snowdon's<a name="marker_The_Bard_5" id="marker_The_Bard_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_5" class="marker">5</a> shaggy side<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He wound with toilsome march his long array.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stout Gloster<a name="marker_The_Bard_6" id="marker_The_Bard_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_6" class="marker">6</a> stood aghast in speechless trance:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To arms!" cried Mortimer,<a name="marker_The_Bard_7" id="marker_The_Bard_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_7" class="marker">7</a> and couched his quivering lance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On a rock<a name="marker_The_Bard_8" id="marker_The_Bard_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_8" class="marker">8</a> whose haughty brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Robed in the sable garb of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With haggard eyes the poet stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a>[<a href="./images/130.png">130</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">(Loose his beard, and hoary hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air<a name="marker_The_Bard_9" id="marker_The_Bard_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_9" class="marker">9</a>)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.<a name="marker_The_Bard_10" id="marker_The_Bard_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To high-born Hoel's<a name="marker_The_Bard_11" id="marker_The_Bard_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_11" class="marker">11</a> harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>I. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That hushed the stormy main:<a name="marker_The_Bard_12" id="marker_The_Bard_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mountains, ye mourn in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Modred, whose magic song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made huge Plinlimmon<a name="marker_The_Bard_13" id="marker_The_Bard_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_13" class="marker">13</a> bow his cloud-topt head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On dreary Arvon's shore<a name="marker_The_Bard_14" id="marker_The_Bard_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_14" class="marker">14</a> they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The famished eagle<a name="marker_The_Bard_15" id="marker_The_Bard_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_15" class="marker">15</a> screams, and passes by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,<a name="marker_The_Bard_16" id="marker_The_Bard_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye died amidst your dying country's cries&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more I weep. They do not sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see them sit,<a name="marker_The_Bard_17" id="marker_The_Bard_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_17" class="marker">17</a> they linger yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Avengers of their native land:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With me in dreadful harmony they join,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>[<a href="./images/131.png">131</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>II. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Weave the warp, and weave the woof,<a name="marker_The_Bard_18" id="marker_The_Bard_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The winding sheet of Edward's race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Give ample room, and verge enough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The characters of hell to trace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark the year, and mark the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roof that ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrieks of an agonizing king!<a name="marker_The_Bard_19" id="marker_The_Bard_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She-wolf of France,<a name="marker_The_Bard_20" id="marker_The_Bard_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_20" class="marker">20</a> with unrelenting fangs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scourge of heaven.<a name="marker_The_Bard_21" id="marker_The_Bard_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_21" class="marker">21</a> What terrors round him wait!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Mighty victor, mighty lord!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low on his funeral couch he lies!<a name="marker_The_Bard_22" id="marker_The_Bard_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No pitying heart, no eye, afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tear to grace his obsequies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the sable warrior<a name="marker_The_Bard_23" id="marker_The_Bard_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_23" class="marker">23</a> fled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gone to salute the rising morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,<a name="marker_The_Bard_24" id="marker_The_Bard_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While proudly riding o'er the azure realm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>[<a href="./images/132.png">132</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>II. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Fill high the sparkling bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rich repast prepare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close by the regal chair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl<a name="marker_The_Bard_25" id="marker_The_Bard_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heard ye the din of battle<a name="marker_The_Bard_26" id="marker_The_Bard_26"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_26" class="marker">26</a> bray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Long years of havoc urge their destined course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye towers of Julius,<a name="marker_The_Bard_27" id="marker_The_Bard_27"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_27" class="marker">27</a> London's lasting shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spare the meek usurper's<a name="marker_The_Bard_28" id="marker_The_Bard_28"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_28" class="marker">28</a> holy head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above, below, the rose of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Twined with her blushing foe,<a name="marker_The_Bard_29" id="marker_The_Bard_29"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_29" class="marker">29</a> we spread:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bristled boar<a name="marker_The_Bard_30" id="marker_The_Bard_30"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_30" class="marker">30</a> in infant-gore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 1.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Edward,<a name="marker_The_Bard_31" id="marker_The_Bard_31"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_31" class="marker">31</a> lo! to sudden fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half of thy heart<a name="marker_The_Bard_32" id="marker_The_Bard_32"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_32" class="marker">32</a> we consecrate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(The web is wove. The work is done.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They melt, they vanish from my eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>[<a href="./images/133.png">133</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!<a name="marker_The_Bard_33" id="marker_The_Bard_33"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 2.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Girt with many a baron bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sublime their starry fronts they rear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bearded majesty, appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the midst a form divine!<a name="marker_The_Bard_34" id="marker_The_Bard_34"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face,<a name="marker_The_Bard_35" id="marker_The_Bard_35"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_35" class="marker">35</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What strings symphonious tremble in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What strains of vocal transport round her play.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear from the grave, great Taliessin,<a name="marker_The_Bard_36" id="marker_The_Bard_36"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_36" class="marker">36</a> hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored wings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III. 3.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The verse adorn again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fierce War, and faithful Love,<a name="marker_The_Bard_37" id="marker_The_Bard_37"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_37" class="marker">37</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In buskined measures<a name="marker_The_Bard_38" id="marker_The_Bard_38"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_38" class="marker">38</a> move<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A voice, as of the cherub-choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gales from blooming Eden bear;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>[<a href="./images/134.png">134</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And distant warblings lessen on my ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lost in long futurity expire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fond,<a name="marker_The_Bard_39" id="marker_The_Bard_39"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_39" class="marker">39</a> impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb of day?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow he repairs<a name="marker_The_Bard_40" id="marker_The_Bard_40"></a><a href="#Note_The_Bard_40" class="marker">40</a> the golden flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And warms the nations with redoubled ray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enough for me; with joy I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The different doom our fates assign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be thine despair, and sceptred care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To triumph, and to die, are mine."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was published in 1757. "It is founded," says Gray, "on a
+tradition current in Wales that Edward I., when he completed the
+conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands
+to be put to death." The argument is as follows: "The army of Edward I.,
+as they march through a deep valley, and approach Mount Snowdon, are
+suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure seated on the
+summit of an inaccessible rock, who, with a voice more than human,
+reproaches the king with all the desolation and misery which he had
+brought on his country; foretells the misfortunes of the Norman race,
+and with prophetic spirit declares that all his cruelty shall never
+extinguish the noble ardor of poetic genius in this island; and that men
+shall never be wanting to celebrate true virtue and valor in immortal
+strains, to expose vice and infamous pleasure, and boldly censure
+tyranny and oppression. His song ended, he precipitates himself from the
+mountain, and is swallowed up by the river that rolls at its feet."</p>
+
+<p>The tradition upon which the poem is said to be founded, if it ever had
+any existence, is in great part mythical. Edward I. did indeed conquer
+Wales, but there is no evidence that he massacred or even persecuted the
+Welsh bards. A hundred years after his time their number and influence
+had not been diminished.</p>
+
+<p>This poem is a good example of an English ode constructed strictly after
+Greek models. It will be observed that it is written, not in uniform
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a>[<a href="./images/135.png">135</a>]</span>stanzas, but in three uniform parts, each of which contains three
+stanzas. The first of these parts is called the <i>Strophe</i>, or Turn; the
+second, the <i>Antistrophe</i>, or Counter-turn; the third, the <i>Epode</i>, or
+After-song. The origin of these terms may be traced to the use of the
+ode as an important part of the entertainment presented in the ancient
+Greek theatre. The Strophe was sung while the chorus moved from one side
+of the orchestra to the other; the Antistrophe while the reversed
+movement was being made; and the Epodos after the singers had returned
+to their original position. The accurate perception of harmony and the
+relationship between the different parts of the choral ode, which
+enabled the Greeks to enter thoroughly into its enjoyment, is unknown
+among moderns. Hence, there have been but few attempts in the English
+language to construct odes strictly after the Greek model. Most of our
+odes are poems relating to themes of greater or less varying length, and
+divided into many irregular stanzas of varying lengths and metres. Such
+are Dryden's "Alexander's Feast," Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," and
+Wordsworth's "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality," all of which are
+odes in form and style, although differing from their Greek prototype
+and from one another. Of all English poets, none have worked so
+thoroughly on the ancient model as Gray, although to Congreve must be
+given the honor of being the first to attempt this species of English
+composition.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Bard_1" id="Note_The_Bard_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_1">1.</a> <b>crimson wing.</b> Explain the meaning of this line.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_2" id="Note_The_Bard_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_2">2.</a> Compare this line with Shakespeare, "King John," Act v, sc. 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mocking the air with colors idly spread."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_3" id="Note_The_Bard_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_3">3.</a> <b>hauberk.</b> From A.-S. <i>heals</i>, the neck, and <i>beorgan</i>, to protect.
+"The hauberk was a texture of steel ringlets, or rings interwoven,
+forming a coat of mail that sat close to the body, and adapted itself to
+every motion."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_4" id="Note_The_Bard_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_4">4.</a> <b>Cambria.</b> Wales. An ancient legend says it was so called from Camber,
+the son of Brute. This legendary king of Britain divided his dominions
+among his three sons: to Locrin he gave the southern part (England),
+which was called Loegria; to Albanact the northern (Scotland), Albania;
+and to Camber, the western (Wales), Cambria.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_5" id="Note_The_Bard_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_5">5.</a> <b>Snowdon.</b> "Snowdon was a name given by the Saxons to that mountainous
+tract which the Welsh themselves call <i>Cragium-eryri</i>. It included all
+the highlands of Caernarvonshire and Merionethshire as far east as the
+river Conway."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i> It was in the spring of 1283 that the army of
+Edward I. forced its way through the defiles of these mountains.</p>
+
+<p><b>shaggy.</b> See "Lycidas," 54:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>[<a href="./images/136.png">136</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_6" id="Note_The_Bard_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_6">6.</a> <b>Gloster.</b> "Gilbert de Clare, surnamed the Red, Earl of Gloucester and
+Hereford, son-in-law to King Edward."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_7" id="Note_The_Bard_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_7">7.</a> <b>Mortimer.</b> Edward, or Edmond, de Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, one of
+King Edward's ablest leaders. It was by one of his knights that the
+Welsh prince Llewellyn was slain in December, 1282.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_8" id="Note_The_Bard_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_8">8.</a> <b>rock.</b> One of the heights of Snowdon, probably Pen-maen-mawr, the
+extreme northern point of the range, a few miles from the mouth of the
+Conway River.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_9" id="Note_The_Bard_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_9">9.</a> "The image was taken from a well-known picture of Raphael,
+representing the Supreme Being in the vision of Ezekiel. There are two
+of these paintings (both believed originals), one at Florence, the other
+in the Duke of Orleans's collection at Paris."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_10" id="Note_The_Bard_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_10">10.</a> Explain the meaning of this line.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_11" id="Note_The_Bard_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_11">11.</a> <b>Hoel.</b> A Welsh prince and famous bard, some of whose poems are still
+extant. Cadwallo and Urien, named below, were other celebrated bards.
+The name of Modred is not so well known; it is possible that Gray refers
+to "the famous Myrddin ab Morvyn, called Merlyn the Wild, a disciple of
+Taliessin&mdash;the form of the name being changed for the sake of euphony."
+It is not entirely clear whether the Llewellyn mentioned here was a
+bard, or the famous but unfortunate prince who lost his life in the war
+with King Edward. (See note <a href="#Note_The_Bard_7">7</a>, above.) Is it the lay sung in memory of
+mild Llewellyn? Or is it the lay which soft Llewellyn sang?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_12" id="Note_The_Bard_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_12">12.</a> <b>hushed the stormy main.</b> Shakespeare says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"The rude sea grew civil at her song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear the sea-maid's music."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, Act ii, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_13" id="Note_The_Bard_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_13">13.</a> <b>Plinlimmon.</b> A group of lofty mountains in Wales. The name is
+probably a corruption of <i>Pum-lumon</i>, "the fire-beacons," so-called
+because there was a beacon on each of the five peaks composing the
+group.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_14" id="Note_The_Bard_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_14">14.</a> <b>Arvon's shore.</b> Caernarvon, or Caer yu Arvon, means the camp in
+Arvon. The shore referred to is that of Caernarvon, on the mainland,
+opposite the island of Anglesey.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_15" id="Note_The_Bard_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_15">15.</a> <b>eagle.</b> "Camden and others observe that eagles used annually to build
+their aerie among the rocks of Snowdon, which from thence (as some
+think) were named by the Welsh, <i>Craigian-eryri</i>, or the crags of the
+eagles. At this day (I am told), the highest point of Snowdon is called
+'the Eagle's Nest.'"&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_16" id="Note_The_Bard_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_16">16.</a> <b>Dear as the ruddy drops.</b> Shakespeare has it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As dear to me as are the ruddy drops<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That visit my sad heart."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Julius C&aelig;sar</i>, Act ii, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>[<a href="./images/137.png">137</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_17" id="Note_The_Bard_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_17">17.</a> <b>I see them sit.</b> See Milton's "Lycidas," 52:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i5">"On the steep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where your old bards, the Druids lie."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>griesly.</b> Grisly. From the A.-S. <i>grisli</i>, dreadful.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_18" id="Note_The_Bard_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_18">18.</a> <b>Weave the warp</b>, etc. As the <i>Fates</i> were represented by the ancient
+Greeks as spinning the destinies of men, so the <i>Norns</i> in the Norse
+mythology are said to weave the destinies of the heroes who die in
+battle.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Glittering lances are the loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Where the dusky warp we strain,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shafts for shuttles, dipt in gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Shoot the trembling cords along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Swords that once a monarch bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Keep the tissue close and strong."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>The Fatal Sisters</i>, translated by Gray, from the Norse.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_19" id="Note_The_Bard_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_19">19.</a> "Edward the Second, cruelly butchered in Berkeley Castle."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i>
+The murder of the king occurred on the night of September 21, 1327.
+Berkeley Castle stands at the southeast end of the town of Berkeley,
+about one and one-half miles from the Severn River. It was built before
+the time of Henry II., and is still inhabited by a descendant of its
+founders.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_20" id="Note_The_Bard_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_20">20.</a> <b>She-wolf of France.</b> Isabel of France, the wife of Edward II.
+Shakespeare applies this epithet to Margaret, the queen of Henry VI.:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>3 Henry VI.</i>, Act i, sc. 4.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_21" id="Note_The_Bard_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_21">21.</a> Edward III., the son of Queen Isabel, proved indeed to be a scourge
+to France.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_22" id="Note_The_Bard_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_22">22.</a> "Death of that king (Edward III.), abandoned by his children, and
+even robbed in his last moments by his courtiers and his
+mistress."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_23" id="Note_The_Bard_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_23">23.</a> <b>sable warrior.</b> "Edward the Black Prince, dead some time before his
+father."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_24" id="Note_The_Bard_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_24">24.</a> The magnificence of the first years of Richard II.'s reign is
+figured in this and the following lines.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_25" id="Note_The_Bard_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_25">25.</a> <b>Thirst and Famine scowl.</b> When Richard II. died in prison, his body
+was brought to St. Paul's, and "the face was left uncovered, to meet
+rumors that he had been assassinated by his keeper, Sir Piers Exon." But
+the older writers assert that he was starved to death.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_26" id="Note_The_Bard_26"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_26">26.</a> <b>din of battle.</b> "Ruinous wars of York and Lancaster."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>bray.</b> From Gr. <i>bracho</i>, to clash.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_27" id="Note_The_Bard_27"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_27">27.</a> <b>towers of Julius.</b> "The oldest part of that structure (the Tower of
+London) is vulgarly attributed to Julius C&aelig;sar."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>[<a href="./images/138.png">138</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_28" id="Note_The_Bard_28"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_28">28.</a> <b>meek usurper.</b> "Henry the Sixth, very near being canonized. The line
+of Lancaster had no right of inheritance to the crown."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i> The
+references in the preceding line are to Henry's "consort," Queen
+Margaret, and his father, Henry V.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_29" id="Note_The_Bard_29"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_29">29.</a> <b>The rose of snow, twined with her blushing foe.</b> The reference is to
+the union of the houses of York and Lancaster after the War of the
+Roses.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_30" id="Note_The_Bard_30"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_30">30.</a> <b>bristled boar.</b> Richard III., so called from his badge of a silver
+boar. So Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In the sty of the most deadly boar."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Richard III.</i>, Act iv, sc. 5.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Swills your warm blood like wash."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i> Act v, sc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_31" id="Note_The_Bard_31"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_31">31.</a> The bard's vision of the future has come to an end, and he again
+addresses the king.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_32" id="Note_The_Bard_32"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_32">32.</a> <b>Half of thy heart.</b> "Eleanor of Castile died a few years after the
+conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her
+lord is well known."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p>Tennyson, in the "Dream of Fair Women," speaks of Queen Eleanor as</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Her who knew that Love can vanquish Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Who kneeling, with one arm about her king,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">Sweet as new buds in spring."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_33" id="Note_The_Bard_33"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_33">33.</a> The bard's visions are resumed, and he sees the glories which were
+ushered in with the advent of the Tudor line. Henry VII.'s paternal
+grandfather was Sir Owen Tewdwr of Pernnyuydd, in Anglesey, whose mother
+was of royal British blood. "Both Merlin and Taliessin had prophesied
+that the Welsh should regain their sovereignty over this island; which
+seemed to be accomplished in the house of Tudor."&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_34" id="Note_The_Bard_34"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_34">34.</a> <b>a form divine.</b> Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_35" id="Note_The_Bard_35"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_35">35.</a> <b>awe-commanding face.</b> "Speed, relating an audience given by Queen
+Elizabeth to Paul Dzialiuski, ambassador of Poland, says: 'And thus she,
+lion-like rising, daunted the malapert orator no less with her stately
+port and majestical deporture, than with the tartnesse of her princlie
+cheekes.'"&mdash;<i>Gray.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_36" id="Note_The_Bard_36"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_36">36.</a> Taliessin was a famous Welsh bard who flourished in the sixth
+century. It is said that some of his works are still preserved by his
+countrymen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>[<a href="./images/139.png">139</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Bard_37" id="Note_The_Bard_37"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_37">37.</a> See "Faerie Queene," 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Fierce warres and faithful love shall moralize my song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_38" id="Note_The_Bard_38"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_38">38.</a> <b>buskined measures.</b> The tragic drama as represented by Shakespeare.
+So Milton speaks ("Il Penseroso," 102) of the "buskind stage." The
+buskin was the Greek <i>cothurnus</i>, a boot with high heels, designed to
+add stature and dignity to the tragic actor.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_39" id="Note_The_Bard_39"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_39">39.</a> <b>Fond.</b> Foolish. This is the original meaning of the word, and is so
+used by the older poets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Bard_40" id="Note_The_Bard_40"></a><a href="#marker_The_Bard_40">40.</a> <b>he repairs.</b> So Milton:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And yet anon repairs his drooping head."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Gray</span> was born in Cornhill, London, December 26th, 1716. Through
+the help of his mother's brother, who was Assistant-Master at that
+famous school, he received his primary education at Eton, and in 1735
+entered St. Peter's College, Cambridge. In 1738 he left the University
+without taking a degree, intending to study law at the Inner Temple.
+Soon afterwards, however, he accompanied Horace Walpole on a tour
+through France and Italy, and spent the greater part of two years in
+Paris, Rome, and Florence. Upon his return to England, finding himself
+possessed of a life-long competency, he resolved to give up the law and
+devote himself entirely to self-culture. He settled at Cambridge, and
+gave all his time to study and to the cultivation of his mind. The first
+of his poems to appear in print was the "Ode on a Distant Prospect of
+Eton College," published in 1747. His "Elegy Written in a Country
+Churchyard" was not published until 1750, although it had been written
+and handed about in manuscript several years before. The post of
+Poet-Laureate was offered him in 1757, on the death of Colley Cibber;
+but he did not accept it. In 1768 he was appointed Professor of Modern
+History at Cambridge, but the state of his health was such that he was
+never permitted to lecture. He died, July 29th, 1771, at the age of
+fifty-four.</p>
+
+<p>"He was certainly the most accomplished man of his time," says Hales,
+"and was something much more than accomplished. His learning was not
+only wide but deep; his taste, if perhaps too <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>[<a href="./images/140.png">140</a>]</span>fastidious, was pure and
+thorough; his genius was of no mean degree or order; his affections were
+of the truest and sincerest.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. His poems are works of refinement rather
+than of passion; but yet they are inspired with genuine sentiment. They
+are no doubt extremely artificial in form; the weight of their author's
+reading somewhat depresses their originality; he can with difficulty
+escape from his books to himself; but yet there is in him a genuine
+poetical spirit. His poetry, however elaborated, is sincere and
+truthful. If the exterior is what Horace might have called over-filed
+and polished, the thought is mostly of the simplest and naturalest."</p>
+
+<p>Matthew Arnold says: "Gray's production was scanty, and scanty it could
+not but be. Even what he produced was not always pure in diction, true
+in evolution. Still, with whatever drawbacks, he is alone or almost
+alone in his age. Gray said himself that the style he aimed at was
+'extreme conciseness of expression, yet pure, perspicuous, and musical.'
+Compared, not with the work of the great masters of the golden ages of
+poetry, but with the poetry of his own contemporaries in general, Gray
+may be said to have reached, in his style, the excellence at which he
+aimed."</p>
+
+<p>Cowper writes, "I have been reading Gray's works, and think him the only
+poet since Shakespeare entitled to the character of sublime."</p>
+
+<p>Lowell says: "Gray, if we may believe the commentators, has not an idea,
+scarcely an epithet, that he can call his own, and yet he is, in the
+best sense, one of the classics of English literature."</p>
+
+<p>And Sir James Mackintosh says: "Of all English poets he was the most
+finished artist. He attained the highest degree of splendor of which
+poetic style seemed to be capable. It may be added that he deserves the
+comparatively trifling praise of having been the most learned poet since
+Milton."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard; On a
+Distant Prospect of Eton College; The Progress of Poesy; Ode on Spring.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of English Poets</i>; <i>Gray</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Edmund Gosse; Hazlitt's <i>Lectures on the English Poets</i>;
+Roscoe's <i>Essays</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>[<a href="./images/141.png">141</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Alexander Pope.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE "ESSAY ON CRITICISM."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some to Conceit<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1" class="marker">1</a> alone their taste confine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The naked nature and the living grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hide with ornaments their want of art.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Something, whose truth convinc'd at sight we find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gives us back the image of our mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As shades more sweetly recommend the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For works may have more wit than does 'em good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As bodies perish through excess of blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Others for Language all their care express,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And value books, as women men,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5" class="marker">5</a> for dress:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their praise is still,&mdash;the style is excellent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sense, they humbly take upon content.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>[<a href="./images/142.png">142</a>]</span><span class="i0">In gaudy colors spreads on ev'ry place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The face of nature we no more survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All glares alike, without distinction gay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It gilds all objects, but it alters none.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Expression is the dress of thought, and still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appears more decent, as more suitable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A vile conceit in pompous words express'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects sort,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some by old words to fame have made pretence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such labor'd nothings, in so strange a style,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unlucky, as Fungoso<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8" class="marker">8</a> in the play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These sparks<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9" class="marker">9</a> with awkward vanity display<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And but so mimic ancient wits at best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As apes our grandsires, in their doublets drest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alike fantastic, if too new or old:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But most by numbers judge a poet's song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the bright muse, tho' thousand charms conspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who haunt Parnassus<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10" class="marker">10</a> but to please their ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not mend<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11" class="marker">11</a> their minds, as some to church repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not for the doctrine, but the music there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These equal syllables alone require,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>[<a href="./images/143.png">143</a>]</span><span class="i0">Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire;<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While expletives their feeble aid do join;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sure returns of still expected rhymes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where'er you find "the cooling western breeze,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the next line, it "whispers through the trees":<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If crystal streams "with pleasing murmurs creep,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with "sleep":<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, at the last and only couplet fraught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A needless Alexandrine ends the song,<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And praise the easy vigor of a line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Denham's strength and Waller's<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16" class="marker">16</a> sweetness join.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sound must seem an echo to the sense:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the smooth stream in smoother numbers<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17" class="marker">17</a> flows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Ajax<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18" class="marker">18</a> strives some rock's vast weight to throw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The line too labors, and the words move slow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so, when swift Camilla<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19" class="marker">19</a> scours the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear how Timotheus'<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20" class="marker">20</a> vary'd lays surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bid alternate passions fall and rise!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While at each change, the son of Libyan Jove<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21" class="marker">21</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>[<a href="./images/144.png">144</a>]</span><span class="i0">Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the world's victor stood subdu'd by sound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The power of music all our hearts allow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That always shows great pride, or little sense:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For fools admire, but men of sense approve:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As things seem large which we through mists descry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dulness is ever apt to magnify.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some foreign writers, some our own despise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ancients only, or the moderns prize.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus wit, like faith, by each man is apply'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And force that sun but on a part to shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which from the first has shone on ages past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho' each may feel increases and decays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see now clearer and now darker days.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regard not, then, if wit be old or new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But blame the false, and value still the true.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But catch the spreading notion of the Town;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>[<a href="./images/145.png">145</a>]</span><span class="i0">They reason and conclude by precedent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all this servile herd, the worst is he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in proud dulness joins with Quality.<a name="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22" id="marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22"></a><a href="#Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A constant critic at the great man's board,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fetch and carry nonsense for my Lord.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What woful stuff this madrigal would be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In some starv'd hackney sonneteer, or me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let a Lord once own the happy lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the wit brightens! how the style refines!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And each exalted stanza teems with thought!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711. It consists of 724
+lines, and is written in heroic couplets&mdash;that style of poetic
+composition in which Pope excelled all others. It is full of sound
+critical precepts, put together with considerable art, and expressed in
+a manner which, at the time of its production, insured the popularity of
+the poem and the fame of its author. It was probably suggested by
+Boileau's "Art Po&eacute;tique," which was founded on Horace's "Ars Poetica,"
+and it in turn on Aristotle's rules, very commonly known among the
+classical poets. "The Essay," says De Quincey, "is a collection of
+independent maxims tied together into a fasciculus by the printer, but
+having no natural order or logical dependence; generally so vague as to
+mean nothing. And, what is remarkable, many of the rules are violated by
+no man so often as by Pope, and by Pope nowhere so often as in this
+poem."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_1"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_1">1.</a> <b>Conceit.</b> Affected wit. "Conceit is to nature what paint is to beauty;
+it is not only needless but impairs what it would improve."&mdash;<i>Pope.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_2"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_2">2.</a> <b>fit.</b> Proper. "Fit audience find, though few" (Milton, "Paradise
+Lost," V, 7).</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_3"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_3">3.</a> <b>wit.</b> This is a favorite word with Pope, and is used by him to
+indicate a variety of ideas,&mdash;such as thought, knowledge, imagination,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>[<a href="./images/146.png">146</a>]</span>expression, the exercise of humor, etc. In this poem there are no fewer
+than twelve couplets rhyming to it.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_4"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_4">4.</a> "It requires very little reading of the French text-books to find the
+maxims which Pope has strung together in this poem, but he has dressed
+them so neatly, and turned them out with such sparkle and point, that
+these truisms have acquired a weight not their own, and they circulate
+as proverbs among us in virtue of their pithy form rather than their
+truth. They exemplify his own line, 'What oft was thought, but ne'er so
+well expressed.' Pope told Spence that he had gone through all the best
+critics, specifying Quintilian, Rapin, and Le Bossu. But whatever
+trouble he took in collecting what to say, his main effort is expended
+upon how to say it."&mdash;<i>Pattison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_5"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_5">5.</a> <b>as women men.</b> "As women value men," or "as women by men are
+valued"&mdash;which?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_6"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_6">6.</a> <b>humbly take upon content.</b> Are satisfied to take in faith.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_7"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_7">7.</a> <b>sort.</b> Agree.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_8"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_8">8.</a> <b>Fungoso.</b> A character in Ben Jonson's comedy, "Every Man in his
+Humour."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_9"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_9">9.</a> <b>sparks.</b> Fops; vain, showy men.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_10"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_10">10.</a> <b>Parnassus.</b> A mountain in Hellas, the chief seat of Apollo and the
+Muses. Hence, figuratively, a resort of the poets.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_11"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_11">11.</a> <b>mend.</b> Improve, make better, amend.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Mend your speech a little<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest it may mar your fortunes."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>King Lear</i>, Act i, sc. i.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_12"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_12">12.</a> "The gaping of the vowels in this line, the expletive <i>do</i> in the
+next, and the ten monosyllables in that which follows, give such a
+beauty to this passage as would have been very much admired in an
+ancient poet."&mdash;<i>Addison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_13"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_13">13.</a> Pope himself is not disinclined to make use of these rhymes. See
+"Essay on Man," 271.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_14"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_14">14.</a> Referring to the Spenserian stanza which is composed of nine lines,
+eight of which are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter or
+Alexandrine. The name Alexandrine is said to have been derived from an
+old French poem on Alexander the Great, written about the twelfth or
+thirteenth century, and composed entirely of hexameter verses. See note
+on the versification of the "Faerie Queene," page <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_15"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_15">15.</a> Observe the skill with which, both in this line and in several which
+precede and follow, the poet has made "the sound to seem an echo to the
+sense."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>[<a href="./images/147.png">147</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_16"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_16">16.</a> Waller had been regarded as the greatest poet of the seventeenth
+century (see page <a href="#Page_205">205</a>), and Denham, in the time of Pope, was more
+esteemed than Milton or Spenser. Dryden called Denham</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">"That limping old bard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose fame on 'The Sophy' and 'Cooper's Hill' stands."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_17"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_17">17.</a> <b>numbers.</b> Poetical metre.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As yet a child nor yet a fool to fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Pope, Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_18"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_18">18.</a> <b>Ajax.</b> "The beautiful distich upon Ajax puts me in mind of a
+description in Homer's 'Odyssey,' which none of the critics have taken
+notice of. It is where Sisyphus is represented lifting his stone up the
+hill which is no sooner carried to the top of it, but it immediately
+tumbles to the bottom. This double motion of the stone is admirably
+described in the numbers of these verses; as in the four first it is
+heaved up by several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places,
+and at last trundles down in a continual line of dactyls."&mdash;<i>Addison.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_19"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_19">19.</a> <b>Camilla.</b> The virgin queen of the Volsci. She aided Turnus against
+&AElig;neas, and was famed for her fleetness of foot.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_20"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_20">20.</a> <b>Timotheus.</b> See notes on "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_21"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_21">21.</a> <b>son of Libyan Jove.</b> Alexander. See note 5, page <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22" id="Note_Essay_on_Criticism_22"></a><a href="#marker_Essay_on_Criticism_22">22.</a> <b>Quality.</b> Persons of high rank.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.</h2>
+
+<h3>MDCCVIII.</h3>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Descend, ye Nine!<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" class="marker">1</a> descend and sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The breathing instruments inspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake into voice each silent string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweep the sounding lyre!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In a sadly pleasing strain,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let the warbling lute complain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let the loud trumpet sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Till the roofs all around<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The shrill echoes rebound;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>[<a href="./images/148.png">148</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hark! the numbers soft and clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gently steal upon the ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now louder, and yet louder rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fill with spreading sounds the skies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till, by degrees, remote and small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The strains decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And melt away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a dying, dying fall.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By music, minds an equal temper know,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music her soft, assuasive<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" class="marker">4</a> voice applies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Exalts her in enlivening airs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warriors she fires with animated sounds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Melancholy lifts her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Morpheus rouses from his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Listening Envy drops her snakes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intestine war no more our passions wage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giddy factions hear away their rage.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when our country's cause provokes to arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How martial music every bosom warms!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So when the first bold vessel dared the seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High on the stern the Thracian raised his strain,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>[<a href="./images/149.png">149</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">While Argo saw her kindred trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Descend from Pelion to the main.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Transported demi-gods<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" class="marker">6</a> stood round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And men grew heroes at the sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inflamed with glory's charms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half unsheathed the shining blade:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To arms! to arms! to arms!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when, through all the infernal bounds<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Love, strong as death,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" class="marker">8</a> the poet led<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the pale nations of the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What sounds were heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What scenes appear'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'er all the dreary coast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dreadful gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dismal screams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fires that glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shrieks of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sullen moans,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hollow groans,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And cries of tortured ghosts!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But, hark! he strikes the golden lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And see! the tortured ghosts respire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">See, shady forms<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" class="marker">9</a> advance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ixion rests upon his wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the pale spectres dance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Furies sink upon their iron beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>[<a href="./images/150.png">150</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">By the streams that ever flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the fragrant winds that blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er the Elysian flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By those happy souls who dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In yellow meads of asphodel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or amaranthine bowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><a name="heroes_armed_shades" id="heroes_armed_shades"></a>By the heroes' armed shades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Glittering through the gloomy glades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the youths that died for love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wandering in the myrtle grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Restore, restore Eurydice to life:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh take the husband, or return the wife!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He sung, and hell<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" class="marker">11</a> consented<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To hear the poet's prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stern Proserpine relented,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And gave him back the fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Thus song could prevail<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O'er death and o'er hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A conquest how hard and how glorious!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though fate had fast bound her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With Styx nine times round her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet music and love were victorious.<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again she falls, again she dies, she dies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now under hanging mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beside the falls of fountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>[<a href="./images/151.png">151</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Or where Hebrus wanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Rolling in meanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unheard, unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He makes his moan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And calls her ghost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For ever, ever, ever lost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now with furies surrounded,<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Despairing, confounded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He trembles, he glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Amidst Rhodope's<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" class="marker">14</a> snows:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! H&aelig;mus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Ah see, he dies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet even in death Eurydice he sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eurydice still trembled on his tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eurydice the woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eurydice the floods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Music<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" class="marker">15</a> the fiercest grief can charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fate's severest rage disarm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Music can soften pain to ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And make despair and madness please:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Our joys below it can improve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And antedate the bliss above.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This the divine Cecilia found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to her Maker's praise confined the sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The immortal powers incline their ear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>[<a href="./images/152.png">152</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And angels lean from heaven to hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To bright Cecilia greater power is given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His numbers raised a shade from hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hers lift the soul to heaven.<a name="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" id="marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16"></a><a href="#Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written in 1708 at the suggestion of Sir Richard Steele;
+it was set to music by Maurice Greene, and in 1730 was performed at the
+public commemoration at Cambridge. Its model is Dryden's famous ode,
+"Alexander's Feast," of which Pope was a warm admirer (see page <a href="#Page_159">159</a>).
+Dr. Johnson says; "In his 'Ode on St. Cecilia's Day' Pope is generally
+confessed to have miscarried; yet he has miscarried only as compared
+with Dryden, for he has far outgone other competitors. Dryden's plan is
+better chosen; history will always take stronger hold of the passions
+than fable: the passions excited by Dryden are the pleasures and pains
+of real life; the scene of Pope is laid in imaginary existence; Pope is
+read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight; Pope hangs
+upon the ear, Dryden finds the passes of the mind. Both the odes want
+the essential constituent of metrical compositions, the stated
+recurrence of settled numbers.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. If Pope's ode be particularly
+inspected, it will be found that the first stanza consists of sounds,
+well chosen, indeed, but only sounds. The second consists of
+hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found, and, perhaps, without
+much difficulty to be as well expressed. In the third, however, there
+are numbers, images, harmony, and vigor not unworthy the antagonist of
+Dryden. Had all been like this&mdash;but every part cannot be the best. The
+next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
+mythology; .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. we have all that can be performed by elegance of diction
+or sweetness of versification; but what can form avail without better
+matter? The last stanza again refers to commonplaces. The conclusion is
+too evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be remarked that
+both end with the same fault&mdash;the comparison of each is literal on one
+side and metaphorical on the other. Poets do not always express their
+own thoughts. Pope, with all this labor in the praise of music, was
+ignorant of its principles and insensible of its effects."</p>
+
+<p>St. Cecilia, the Christian Polyhymnia and patron saint of sacred music,
+is said to have suffered martyrdom about the year 230. In Chaucer's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>[<a href="./images/153.png">153</a>]</span>"Seconde Nonnes Tale"&mdash;which is an almost literal translation of the
+"Legenda Aurea," written in the thirteenth century&mdash;it is related that,
+on account of Cecilia's spotless purity, an angel came down from heaven
+to be her guardian. Her husband, Valerian, was also the recipient of
+angelic favors, for</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"This angel had of roses and lilie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Corones two, the which he bare in honde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And first to Cecile, as I understonde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He yaf that on, and after gan he take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That other to Valerian hire make."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>How and when Cecilia was first recognized as the patron saint of music
+does not appear. The legend only says, that</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"While the organs maden melodie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To God alone thus in hire hert song she;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'O Lord, my soule and eke my body gie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>There is also a tradition in the church that St. Cecilia was the
+inventor of the organ. Dryden calls her "inventress of the vocal frame"
+(see page <a href="#Page_164">164</a>). The origin of this musical instrument is not known, but
+the first organs used in Italy are said to have been brought thither
+from Greece. Some of the Roman churches are known to have had them in
+use in the seventh century, but they were not common until several
+hundred years later. The festival of St. Cecilia occurs on the 22d of
+November.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_1">1.</a> <b>ye Nine.</b> The nine Muses: (1) Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry; (2)
+Clio, the Muse of history; (3) Euterpe, the Muse of lyric poetry; (4)
+Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy; (5) Terpsichore, the Muse of choral
+dance and song; (6) Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry; (7) Polyhymnia,
+the Muse of the sublime hymn; (8) Urania, the Muse of astronomy; (9)
+Thalia, the Muse of comedy and idyllic poetry. The custom of invoking
+the Muses, at the beginning of poems, is derived from Homer:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Of Peleus' son, Achilles, sing, O Muse."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Iliad</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Who, having overthrown the sacred town<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Ilium, wandered far," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Odyssey</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<p>Milton invokes the</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"heavenly Muse that on the secret top<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shepherd," etc.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, I, 1.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>[<a href="./images/154.png">154</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_2">2.</a> Observe how, in the sixteen lines following, the sound is made in
+some measure to be "an echo to the sense."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_3">3.</a> <b>equal temper know.</b> Evenness of disposition acquire. The music of
+Timotheus had an opposite effect on Alexander. See "Alexander's Feast."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_4">4.</a> <b>assuasive.</b> Moderating.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_5">5.</a> <b>the Thracian raised his strain.</b> Orpheus was a Thracian, the son of
+&OElig;agrus and the Muse Calliope. Apollo gave him a lyre, and the Muses
+instructed him in its use; and so sweet was the music which he drew from
+it that the wild beasts were enchanted and the trees and rocks moved
+from their places to follow the sound. When Jason and his followers, the
+Argonauts, were unable to launch their ship Argo, Orpheus played his
+lyre, and the vessel glided into the sea, while her "kindred trees
+descended" from the slopes of the mountain (Pelion) and followed her
+into "the main."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_6">6.</a> <b>demi-gods.</b> Half-gods; heroes. Among the Argonauts were Hercules,
+Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Peleus, Nestor, and others similarly
+renowned.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_7">7.</a> <b>infernal bounds.</b> Boundaries of hell. The wife of Orpheus was a nymph
+named Eurydice. She having died from the bite of a serpent, the sweet
+musician followed her into the infernal regions. He begged of Pluto that
+his wife might return with him to the earth, but his prayer was granted
+only upon condition that he should not look back upon her until both had
+safely passed the gates between Hades and the upper world. The poet
+tells the rest of the story.</p>
+
+<p><b>Phlegethon.</b> A river of hell in which flowed fire instead of water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_8">8.</a> See Song of Solomon viii. 6: "Love is strong as death."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_9">9.</a> <b>shady forms.</b> Departed spirits were called "shades," because they were
+supposed to be perceptible sometimes to the sight but never to the
+touch. See "<a href="#heroes_armed_shades">heroes' armed shades</a>," below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_10">10.</a> <b>Sisyphus.</b> See note 18, page <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ixion.</b> King of the Lapith&aelig;. As a punishment for ingratitude to Zeus, his
+hands and feet were chained to a wheel which was always in motion.</p>
+
+<p><b>Furies.</b> See note 20, page <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_11">11.</a> <b>hell.</b> The powers of hell&mdash;or, as he explains below, Proserpine, the
+queen of the infernal regions. <b>Styx.</b> The principal river of hell, around
+which it flows seven&mdash;not nine&mdash;times.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_12">12.</a> See Milton's "L'Allegro," 135:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lap me in soft Lydian airs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Married to immortal verse, .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That Orpheus' self may heave his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">From golden slumber on a bed<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>[<a href="./images/155.png">155</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Such strains as would have won the ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Pluto to have quite set free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His half-regain'd Eurydice."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_13">13.</a> Orpheus's grief for the loss of Eurydice caused him to treat with
+contempt the Thracian women among whom he dwelt, and they in revenge
+tore him to pieces, under the excitement of their Bacchanalian orgies.
+His head was given by the Hebrus to the sea, and finally carried to the
+island of Lesbos, where it was buried. See Milton's "Lycidas," 58:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The Muse herself for her enchanting son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Whom universal nature did lament,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">When by the rout that made the hideous roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His gory visage down the stream was sent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>See, also, "Paradise Lost," VII, 32:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">"The barbarous dissonance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rapture, till the savage clamor drown'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her son."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_14">14.</a> <b>Rhodope.</b> A range of mountains in Thrace, sacred to Bacchus. <b>H&aelig;mus</b>
+was another range extending from Rhodope, on the west, to the Black Sea,
+on the east.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_15">15.</a> <b>Music.</b> Compare what Pope says of music with:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Congreve</i>, <i>The Mourning Bride</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Music! sphere-descended maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Collins</i>, <i>The Passions</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Soft is the music that would charm forever."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Wordsworth</i>, <i>Sonnets</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16" id="Note_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16"></a><a href="#marker_Ode_on_St_Cecilias_Day_16">16.</a> Compare these lines with the four which end Dryden's "Alexander's
+Feast."</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alexander Pope</span> was born in London in 1688. He had some instruction at
+home, and was afterwards sent, first to a Roman Catholic seminary near
+Winchester, then to another in London. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>[<a href="./images/156.png">156</a>]</span>"This," he said, "was all the
+teaching I ever had, and God knows it extended a very little way. When I
+had done with my priests, I took to reading by myself, for which I had a
+very great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry: and in a few
+years I had dipped into a very great number of the English, Italian,
+Latin, and Greek poets." He was small of stature and deformed, and his
+ill health made him peevish, irritable, and selfish. Yet his rare
+intellectual abilities and the deserved success of his earlier poetry
+secured for him the friendship of many of the most influential men of
+the time. Bolingbroke declared that he never knew a man more tenderly
+devoted to his friends; and Warburton said, "He is as good a companion
+as poet, and, what is more, appears to be a good man."</p>
+
+<p>Pope's "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711; the "Rape of the
+Lock" in 1714; his translation of Homer's "Iliad" in 1715-18, and of the
+"Odyssey" in 1726; the "Dunciad" in 1728; the "Essay on Man" in 1732. A
+revised and enlarged version of the "Dunciad" was published in 1742. The
+latter part of Pope's life was spent at his country-seat of Twickenham,
+which he enlarged and beautified from the proceeds of his translation of
+Homer. He died in 1744.</p>
+
+<p>"Pope is our greatest master in didactic poetry," says Stopford Brooke,
+"not so much because of the worth of the thoughts as because of the
+masterly form in which they are put."</p>
+
+<p>"In two directions," says Mark Pattison, "in that of condensing and
+pointing his meaning, and in that of drawing the utmost harmony of sound
+out of the couplet, Pope carried versification far beyond the point at
+which it was when he took it up. The matter which he worked up into his
+verse has a permanent value, and is indeed one of the most precious
+heirlooms which the eighteenth century has bequeathed us."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Rape of the Lock; The Dying Christian to his
+Soul; The Universal Prayer; Pastorals; Windsor Forest.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Stephen's <i>Hours in a
+Library</i>; De Quincey's <i>Literature of the Eighteenth Century</i>; Lowell's
+<i>My Study Window</i>; <i>Pope</i> (English Men of Letters), by Leslie Stephen.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>[<a href="./images/157.png">157</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Seventeenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>The people of the seventeenth century were weary of liberty, weary of
+the unmitigated rage of the dramatists, cloyed with the roses and the
+spices and the kisses of the lyrists, tired of being carried over the
+universe and up and down the avenues of history at the freak of every
+irresponsible rhymester. Literature had been set open to all the breezes
+of heaven by the blustering and glittering Elizabethans, and in the
+hands of their less gifted successors it was fast declining into a mere
+Cave of the Winds.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. We know the poets of the early Caroline period
+almost entirely by extracts, and their ardor, quaintness, and sudden
+flashes of inspiration give them a singular advantage in this form. The
+sustained elevation which had characterized Shakespeare and Spenser, and
+even in some degree several of the chief of their contemporaries, had
+passed away, but still the poets were most brilliant, most delectable in
+their purple patches.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. As the last waves of the Renaissance died away,
+a deathly calm settled down upon the pools of thought. Man returned from
+the particular to the general, from romantic examples to those
+disquisitions on the norm which were thought to display a classical
+taste. The seer disappeared, and the artificer took his place. For a
+whole century the singer that only sang because he must, and as the
+linnets do, was entirely absent from English literature. He came back at
+the close of the eighteenth century, with Burns in Scotland, and with
+Blake in England.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse.</span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>At the same time, amid the classical coldness which then dried up
+English literature, and the social excess which then corrupted English
+morals .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. appeared a mighty and superb mind (Milton), prepared by logic
+and enthusiasm for eloquence and the epic style; the heir of a poetical
+age, the precursor of an austere age, holding his place between the
+epoch of unselfish dreaming and the epoch of practical action.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>[<a href="./images/158.png">158</a>]</span></p>
+<h3><b>Poets of the Seventeenth Century.</b></h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Ben Jonson</b> (1573-1637). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Drummond of Hawthornden</b> (1585-1649). Short poems; "Poems:
+Amorous, Funerall, Divine, Pastorall, in Sonnets, Songs, Sextains,
+Madrigals"; "Floures of Sion."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Browne</b> (1588-1643). "Britannia's Pastorals"; "The Shepherd's
+Pipe"; "The Inner Temple Masque."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Wither</b> (1588-1667). Short poems; "Collection of Emblems"; "Nature
+of Man"; "The Shepheard's Hunting"; "Fidelia."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Phineas Fletcher</b> (1582-1650). "The Locustes"; "The Purple Island."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Giles Fletcher</b> (1588-1623). "Christ's Victory and Triumph."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Carew</b> (1589-1639). Short poems; "C&aelig;lum Britannicum."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Francis Quarles</b> (1592-1644). "Divine Poems"; "Emblems, Divine and
+Moral."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Herrick</b> (1594-1674). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Suckling</b> (1608-1642). Love poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Lovelace</b> (1618-1658). Short poems; "Lucasta: Odes, Sonnets,
+Songs," etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Lord Herbert of Cherbury</b> (1581-1648). Odes and short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Herbert</b> (1592-1634). "The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private
+Ejaculations"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Sandys</b> (1577-1643). "Christ's Passion."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Richard Crashaw</b> (1615-1650). "Steps to the Altar."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Henry Vaughan</b> (1621-1695). "Silex Scintillans"; "The Mount of Olives."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Abraham Cowley</b> (1618-1667). "Poetical Blossomes"; "The Mistress."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edmund Waller</b> (1605-1687). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Denham</b> (1615-1668). "Cooper's Hill."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir William Davenant</b> (1605-1668). "Gondibert"; "Madagascar and Other
+Poems."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Milton</b> (1608-1674). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Andrew Marvell</b> (1621-1678). Lyric and satiric poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Butler</b> (1612-1680). "Hudibras."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Otway</b> (1651-1685). "The Poet's Complaint of his Muse"; "Windsor
+Castle."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Dryden</b> (1631-1700). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>[<a href="./images/159.png">159</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Dryden.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC:</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">An Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia's Day.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas at the royal feast,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_1" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_1"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_1" class="marker">1</a> for Persia won<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By Philip's warlike son:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Aloft in awful state<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The godlike hero sate<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On his imperial throne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His valiant peers were placed around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound:<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_2" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_2"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(So should desert in arms be crowned.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The lovely Thais,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_3" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_3"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_3" class="marker">3</a> by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sate like a blooming Eastern bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In flower of youth and beauty's pride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Happy, happy, happy pair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave deserves the fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Happy, happy, happy pair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but the brave deserves the fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>[<a href="./images/160.png">160</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">Timotheus,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_4" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_4"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_4" class="marker">4</a> placed on high<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Amid the tuneful quire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With flying fingers touched the lyre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The trembling notes ascend the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And heavenly joys inspire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The song began from Jove,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_5" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_5"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who left his blissful seats above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(Such is the power of mighty love.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A dragon's fiery form belied the god:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sublime on radiant spires he rode.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A present deity,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_6" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_6"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_6" class="marker">6</a> they shout around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With ravish'd ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The monarch hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Assumes the god,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Affects to nod,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_7" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_7"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And seems to shake the spheres.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i5">With ravish'd ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">The monarch hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Assumes the god,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Affects to nod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And seems to shake the spheres.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The praise of Bacchus then, the sweet musician sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The jolly god in triumph comes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sound the trumpets; beat the drums;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Flush'd with a purple grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He shows his honest face:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now give the hautboys<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_8" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_8"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_8" class="marker">8</a> breath; he comes! he comes!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>[<a href="./images/161.png">161</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Bacchus, ever fair and young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Drinking joys did first ordain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Rich the treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sweet the pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweet is pleasure after pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Rich the treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Sweet the pleasure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sweet is pleasure after pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fought all his battles o'er again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_9" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_9"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The master saw the madness rise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, while he Heaven and Earth defied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He chose a mournful muse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Soft pity to infuse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He sung Darius<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_10" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_10"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_10" class="marker">10</a> great and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">By too severe a fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fallen from his high estate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And welt'ring in his blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Deserted at his utmost need,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By those his former bounty fed:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>[<a href="./images/162.png">162</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">On the bare earth expos'd he lies,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_11" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_11"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With not a friend to close his eyes.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_12" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_12"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_12" class="marker">12</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revolving in his alter'd soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The various turns of chance below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, now and then, a sigh he stole,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_13" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_13"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tears began to flow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Revolving in his alter'd soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The various turns of chance below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, now and then, a sigh he stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And tears began to flow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">The mighty master smil'd to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That love was in the next degree:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twas but a kindred sound to move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For pity melts the mind to love.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_14" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_14"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Softly sweet, in Lydian<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_15" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_15"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_15" class="marker">15</a> measures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">War, he sung, is toil and trouble;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Honor, but an empty bubble;<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_16" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_16"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never ending, still beginning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fighting still, and still destroying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If the world be worth thy winning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Think, oh think it worth enjoying!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lovely Thais sits beside thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Take the good the gods provide thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The many<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_17" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_17"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_17" class="marker">17</a> rend the air with loud applause;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The prince, unable to conceal his pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gaz'd on the fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who caus'd his care,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>[<a href="./images/163.png">163</a>]</span>
+<span class="i1">And sigh'd and look'd,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_18" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_18"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_18" class="marker">18</a> sigh'd and look'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The prince, unable to conceal his pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Gaz'd on the fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Who caus'd his care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now strike the golden lyre again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Break his bands of sleep<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_19" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_19"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_19" class="marker">19</a> asunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hark, hark, the horrid sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Has raised up his head!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As awaked from the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And amaz'd he stares around.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">See the Furies<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_20" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_20"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_20" class="marker">20</a> arise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">See the snakes that they rear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How they hiss in their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Behold a ghastly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Each a torch in his hand!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those are Grecian ghosts,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_21" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_21"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_21" class="marker">21</a> that in battle were slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And unburied remain<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Inglorious on the plain:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>[<a href="./images/164.png">164</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Give the vengeance due<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the valiant crew.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_22" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_22"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold how they toss their torches on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How they point to the Persian abodes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glittering temples of their hostile gods!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The princes applaud with a furious joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thais led the way,<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_23" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_23"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_23" class="marker">23</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To light him to his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like another Helen, fired another Troy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7"><i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the king seiz'd a flambeau with zeal to destroy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thais led the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To light him to his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like another Helen, fired another Troy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Thus, long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While organs<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_24" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_24"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_24" class="marker">24</a> yet were mute;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Timotheus to his breathing flute,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sounding lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At last divine Cecilia came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Inventress of the vocal frame;<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_25" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_25"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enlarged the former narrow bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And added length to solemn sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let old Timotheus yield the prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or both divide the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He rais'd a mortal to the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She drew an angel down.<a name="marker_Alexanders_Feast_26" id="marker_Alexanders_Feast_26"></a><a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>[<a href="./images/165.png">165</a>]</span>
+<span class="i7"><i>Grand Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At last divine Cecilia came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inventress of the vocal frame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enlarged the former narrow bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And added length to solemn sounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let old Timotheus yield the prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or both divide the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He rais'd a mortal to the skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She drew an angel down.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This song was written in 1697. Lord Bolingbroke relates that, calling
+upon the poet one morning, Dryden said to him: "I have been up all
+night; my musical friends made me promise to write them an ode for their
+Feast of St. Cecilia, and I was so struck with the subject which
+occurred to me that I could not leave it till I had completed it: here
+it is, finished at one sitting."</p>
+
+<p>The poem was first set to music by one Jeremiah Clarke, a steward of the
+Musical Society, whose members had solicited Dryden to write it. In 1736
+it was rearranged by the great composer Handel, and again presented at a
+public performance.</p>
+
+<p>M. Taine says, "His 'Alexander's Feast' is an admirable trumpet-blast,
+in which metre and sound impress upon the nerves the emotions of the
+mind, a master-piece of rapture and of art, which Victor Hugo alone has
+come up to."</p>
+
+<p>"As a piece of poetical mechanism to be set to music, or recited in
+alternate strophe and anti-strophe," says Hazlitt, "nothing can be
+better."</p>
+
+<p>"This ode is Dryden's greatest and best work."&mdash;<i>Macaulay.</i></p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_1" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_1"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_1">1.</a> <b>royal feast.</b> About the year <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> 331, Alexander the Great, having
+overthrown the Persian Empire, held a great feast at Persepolis in
+celebration of his victories. At the close of the revelries, instigated,
+it is said, by Thais, his Athenian mistress, he set fire with his own
+hand to the great palace of Persepolis; and a general massacre of the
+inhabitants ensued. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>[<a href="./images/166.png">166</a>]</span>The ruins of the city and palace are still to be
+seen in a beautiful valley watered by the river Araxes&mdash;now called
+Bendemir&mdash;not far from the border of the Carmanian Desert.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_2" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_2"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_2">2.</a> <b>with roses and with myrtles.</b> At the banquets of the Greeks it was the
+custom of the guests to wear garlands of roses and myrtles.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_3" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_3"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_3">3.</a> <b>Thais.</b> "Her name is best known from the story of her having
+stimulated the Conqueror, during a great festival at Persepolis, to set
+fire to the palace of the Persian kings; but this anecdote, immortalized
+as it has been by Dryden's famous ode, appears to rest on the sole
+authority of Cleitarchus, one of the least trustworthy of the historians
+of Alexander, and is in all probability a mere fable." After the death
+of Alexander, Thais became the wife of Ptolemy Lagus.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_4" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_4"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_4">4.</a> <b>Timotheus.</b> A famous flute-player from Thebes. Another and more
+celebrated Timotheus, "the poet of the later Athenian dithyramb," was a
+native of Miletus and died about the time of Alexander's birth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_5" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_5"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_5">5.</a> Alexander claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon; and when he visited
+the temple of that god, in the Libyan Desert, he was received by the
+priests and honored as such. See Plutarch's <i>Life of Alexander</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_6" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_6"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_6">6.</a> <b>present deity.</b> See Psalm xlvi. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_7" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_7"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_7">7.</a> <b>affects to nod.</b> See Homer's "Iliad." I, 528-530: "Jove spake, and
+nodded his dark brow, and the ambrosial locks waved from his immortal
+head; and he made great Olympus quake."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_8" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_8"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_8">8.</a> <b>hautboys.</b> Oboes. French <i>hautbois</i>. Wind instruments resembling the
+clarionet.</p>
+
+<p><b>Bacchus.</b> Compare Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come, thou monarch of the vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Antony and Cleopatra</i>, Act ii, sc. 7.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_9" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_9"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_9">9.</a> <b>thrice he slew the slain.</b> How could he slay the slain?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_10" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_10"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_10">10.</a> <b>Darius.</b> At the time of this feast at Persepolis, Darius, the
+vanquished king of Persia, was still living, although a fugitive. In the
+following year Alexander pursued him into the Parthian Desert, where he
+was murdered by the satrap of Bactria. By order of Alexander, the body
+of the unfortunate king was sent to Persepolis, to be buried in the
+tombs of the kings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_11" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_11"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_11">11.</a> <b>expos'd he lies.</b> Dryden seems to have written this under the
+impression that Darius had been killed before the time of the great
+feast at Persepolis.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_12" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_12"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_12">12.</a> <b>close his eyes.</b> Compare this with the lines from Pope ("Elegy on an
+Unfortunate Lady"):</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>[<a href="./images/167.png">167</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_13" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_13"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_13">13.</a> <b>a sigh he stole.</b> Sighed silently. His sighs when the result of pity
+were not very distinctly uttered. Compare Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">"And then the lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sighing like a furnace."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>As You Like It</i>, Act ii, sc. 7.</p>
+
+<p>And then read, in the next stanza, how Alexander sighed when moved by
+love.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_14" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_14"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_14">14.</a> <b>pity melts the mind to love.</b> Compare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pity swells the tide of love."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Young's Night Thoughts</i>, III, 106.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pity's akin to love."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Southern's Oroonoko</i>, II, 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_15" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_15"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_15">15.</a> <b>Lydian measures.</b> The people of Lydia were noted for the effeminacy
+of their manners. And Lydian music was peculiarly soft and voluptuous.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And ever against eating cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Lap me in soft Lydian airs."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Milton's L'Allegro</i>, 135.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And all the while sweet Musicke did divide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Her looser notes with Lydian harmony."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Spenser's Faerie Queene</i>, III, 1.</p>
+
+<p>Observe the change in metre in the ten lines beginning "Softly sweet."
+What does the word <i>sweet</i> modify?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_16" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_16"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_16">16.</a> <b>Honor, but an empty bubble.</b> So Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Honor is a mere scutcheon."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>1 Henry IV.</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_17" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_17"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_17">17.</a> <b>The many.</b> The multitude.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_18" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_18"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_18">18.</a> <b>sigh'd and look'd.</b> He no longer <i>steals</i> a sigh, as he did when
+pitying Darius. See note <a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_13">13</a>, above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_19" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_19"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_19">19.</a> <b>Break his bands of sleep.</b> The music now is very different from the
+Lydian measures which "soothed his soul to pleasures." "Suidas," says
+Dr. Warton, "mentions the Orthian style in music, in which Timotheus is
+said to have played to Alexander; and one Antigenidas inflamed this
+prince still more by striking into what were called Harmatian measures.
+Quintus Curtius gives a minute description of the burning of the palace
+at Persepolis, when Alexander was accompanied by Thais. But it does not
+appear in the accurate Arrian that Thais had any share in this
+transaction. Arrian, but more so Aristobulus, endeavored to exculpate
+Alexander from the charge of frequent ebriety; but Menander plainly
+mentions the drunkenness of Alexander as proverbial."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_20" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_20"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_20">20.</a> <b>Furies.</b> The Eumenides, or avengers of evil. They are variously
+represented by the poets. &AElig;schylus describes them as having black
+bodies, hair composed of twining snakes, and eyes dripping with blood.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>[<a href="./images/168.png">168</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_21" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_21"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_21">21.</a> <b>Grecian ghosts.</b> The spirits of the Greek warriors in Alexander's
+army who had been slain by the Persians.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_22" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_22"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_22">22.</a> <b>crew.</b> This word was formerly used to designate any associated
+multitude or assemblage of persons. It is now restricted to a ship's
+company, except when occasionally used in a bad sense. From A.-S.
+<i>cread</i> or <i>cruth</i>, a crowd.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_23" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_23"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_23">23.</a> <b>Thais led the way, etc.</b> See note <a href="#Note_Alexanders_Feast_19">19</a>, above. Neither Thais nor Helen
+actually fired any city. What the poet means to say is that, as Helen
+was the cause of the destruction of Troy, so Thais instigated the
+burning of Persepolis.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_24" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_24"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_24">24.</a> <b>organs.</b> The word <i>organ</i> originally denoted but a single pipe, and
+hence the older English writers, when referring to the complete
+instrument, generally used the word in the plural number. "Father
+Schmidt and other famous organ-builders flourished in the latter part of
+the seventeenth century. The organ in Temple Church, London, was built
+by Schmidt in Charles II.'s time."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_25" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_25"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_25">25.</a> <b>vocal frame.</b> The organ&mdash;the grand instrument of church music&mdash;so
+perfect that it may literally be said to speak. See introductory note to
+Pope's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," page <a href="#Page_152">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Alexanders_Feast_26" id="Note_Alexanders_Feast_26"></a><a href="#marker_Alexanders_Feast_26">26.</a> St. Cecilia, according to the story in the "Golden Legend," was
+under the immediate protection of an angel. But it was not her sweet
+playing, but her spotless purity, that brought the angel to earth, not
+to listen, but to be "a heavenly guard."</p>
+
+<p>Compare these last four lines with those at the close of Pope's Ode.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Warton says of "Alexander's Feast": "If Dryden had never written
+anything but this ode, his name would have been immortal, as would that
+of Gray, if he had never written anything but his 'Bard.' It is
+difficult to find new terms to express our admiration of the variety,
+richness, and melody of its numbers; the force, beauty, and distinctness
+of its images; the succession of so many different passions and
+feelings; and the matchless perspicuity of its diction. No particle of
+it can be wished away, but the epigrammatic turn of the four concluding
+lines."</p>
+
+<p>Hallam says: "This ode has a few lines mingled with a far greater number
+ill conceived and ill expressed; the whole composition has that spirit
+which Dryden hardly ever wanted, but it is too faulty for high praise.
+It used to pass for the best work of Dryden and the best ode in the
+language. But few lines are highly poetical, and some sink to the level
+of a common drinking song. It has the defects as well as the merits of
+that poetry which is written for musical accompaniment."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>[<a href="./images/169.png">169</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE FIRE OF LONDON.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "ANNUS MIRABILIS."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_1" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thence did soon to open streets aspire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And straight to palaces and temples spread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The diligence of trades, and noiseful gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And luxury, more late, asleep were laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All was the Night's, and in her silent reign<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No sound the rest of Nature did invade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_2" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And first few scattering sparks about were blown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then in some close-pent room it crept along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Too great for prison which he breaks with gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dares the world to tax him with the old,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And makes small outlets into open air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There the fierce winds his tender force assail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And beat him downward to his first repair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>[<a href="./images/170.png">170</a>]</span><span class="i0">The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His flames from burning but to blow them more:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, every fresh attempt, he is repell'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With faint denials, weaker than before.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, no longer letted<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_3" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_3" class="marker">3</a> of his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He leaps up at it with enraged desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And nods at every house his threatening fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_4" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_4" class="marker">4</a> descend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About the fire into a dance they bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the palace of our slumbering King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And drooping oft look'd back upon the wing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long it was ere he the rest could raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For helpless infants left amidst the fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now murmuring noises rise in every street;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more remote run stumbling with their fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in the dark men justle as they meet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a>[<a href="./images/171.png">171</a>]</span><span class="i0">So weary bees in little cells repose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An humming through their waxen city grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And out upon each other's wings they drive.<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_5" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In vain; for from the east a Belgian wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And forward with a wanton fury went.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A key<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_6" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_6" class="marker">6</a> of fire ran all along the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waken'd tides began again to roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But fear'd the fate of Simois<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_7" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_7" class="marker">7</a> would return;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shrank his waters back into his urn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The fire meantime walks in a broader gross;<a name="marker_The_Fire_of_London_8" id="marker_The_Fire_of_London_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Fire_of_London_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To either hand his wings he opens wide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And plays his longing flames on the other side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now with long necks from side to side they feed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a new colony of flames succeed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>[<a href="./images/172.png">172</a>]</span><span class="i0">To every nobler portion of the town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The curling billows roll their restless tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In parties now they straggle up and down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As armies unopposed for prey divide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One mighty squadron, with a sidewind sped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By powerful charms of gold and silver led<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Another backward to the Tower would go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And slowly eats his way against the wind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the main body of the marching foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against the imperial palace is design'd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now day appears; and with the day the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With gloomy pillars cover all the place;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose little intervals of night are broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By sparks that drive against his sacred face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">More than his guards his sorrows made him known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wretched in his grief forgot their own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So much the pity of a king has power.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He wept the flames of what he lov'd so well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And what so well had merited his love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For never prince in grace did more excel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or royal city more in duty strove.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>[<a href="./images/173.png">173</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This selection from Dryden's long and very tedious poem, "Annus
+Mirabilis, the year of Wonders, 1666," is given here as a specimen of
+that kind of mechanical versification so popular in the latter half of
+the seventeenth century. "That part of my poem which describes the
+Fire," says Dryden, "I owe first to the piety and fatherly affection of
+our monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the
+courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city; both of which were so
+conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve.
+And I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in
+alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of
+greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in
+use amongst us." This opinion, however, was certainly not long
+maintained by the poet, for he never afterward practised that form of
+versification which he has here praised.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_1" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_1">1.</a> <b>this prodigious fire.</b> A half sheet published immediately after the
+Great Fire contains this account of the catastrophe which Dryden
+describes in his verses:</p>
+
+<p>"On Sunday, the second of September, this present year 1666, about one
+o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in
+<i>Pudding-lane</i> near <i>New Fish-street</i>; which, falling out in a part of
+the city so close built with wooden houses .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. in a short time became
+too big to be mastered by any engines or working near it.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. It
+continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it consumed
+houses and churches all the way to <i>St. Dunstan's Church</i>, in
+<i>Fleet-street</i>; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened;
+and that night, by the vigilancy, industry, and indefatigable pains of
+his Majesty and his Royal Highness, calling upon all people, and
+encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the
+fire in Fleet-street, etc. But on Wednesday night it suddenly broke out
+afresh in the <i>Inner Temple</i>. His Royal Highness in person fortunately
+watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and
+seasonable commands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said
+buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_2" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_2">2.</a> <b>source unknown.</b> "It was ascribed by the rage of the people either to
+the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription
+on the monument, intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion, was
+erased by James II., but restored at the Revolution."&mdash;<i>Warton.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_3" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_3">3.</a> <b>letted.</b> Hindered. This use of the word <i>let</i> is now obsolete, except
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a>[<a href="./images/174.png">174</a>]</span>in the phrase, "Without let or hindrance." It was frequently employed
+by the older writers.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What lets but one may enter?"&mdash;<i>Shakespeare.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_4" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_4">4.</a> <b>the Bridge.</b> The heads of traitors were displayed on London Bridge.
+"How inferior is this passage," says Dr. Dodd, "to Milton's animated
+description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however,
+seems to have here had in mind." See "Ode on the Nativity," stanza
+xxiii.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_5" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_5">5.</a> The simile in this stanza was doubtless intended to be very
+effective.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_6" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_6">6.</a> <b>key.</b> Quay. A bank, or ledge.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_7" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_7">7.</a> <b>Simois.</b> See Homer's "Iliad," Bk. XXI.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Fire_of_London_8" id="Note_The_Fire_of_London_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Fire_of_London_8">8.</a> <b>gross.</b> Bulk.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>REASON AND RELIGION.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "RELIGIO LAICI."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Reason to the soul: and as on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those rolling fires discover but the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But guide us upward to a better day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as those nightly tapers disappear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some few whose light shone brighter, have been led<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From cause to cause, to nature's secret head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found that one first principle must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what, or who, that Universal <span class="smcap">He</span>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether some soul incompassing this ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmade, unmov'd, yet making, moving all,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>[<a href="./images/175.png">175</a>]</span><span class="i0">Or various atoms' interfering dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or this great All was from eternity&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not even the Stagirite himself could see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Epicurus guess'd as well as he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As blindly groped they for a future state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As rashly judged of providence and fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this wild maze their vain endeavors end:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How can the less the greater comprehend?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or finite Reason reach Infinity?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what could fathom God were more than He.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Dryden</span> was born on the 9th of August, 1631, at Aldwincle All
+Saints, near Oundle in Northamptonshire. He was educated at Westminster
+School, under the famous Dr. Busby, and at Trinity College, Cambridge.
+At the age of twenty-six he went up to London with the intention of
+devoting himself to literature and politics. During the brief remaining
+years of the Commonwealth (1657-1660) he was nominally a friend to the
+Puritan party; and one of the first poems written by him was a series of
+"Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell." At the Restoration he
+at once espoused the cause of the Royalists; and his recent panegyric on
+the Protector did not prevent him from writing a poem, "Astr&aelig;a Redux,"
+in honor of the return of Charles the Second. In 1663 he married the
+Lady Elizabeth Howard, a daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, a Royalist
+nobleman. For several years he devoted himself chiefly to the writing of
+plays,&mdash;comedies, tragedies, and tragi-comedies. The comedies he wrote
+in prose; the earliest tragedies in blank verse, followed by several in
+rhyme, and, after these, others in blank verse. In 1670 he was appointed
+Poet-Laureate. In 1681, when nearly fifty years old, by the publication
+of "Absalom and Achitophel," he suddenly became famous as a satirical
+poet. He soon afterwards wrote "The Medal," another satire, directed
+against the Earl of Shaftesbury, and "Mac Flecknoe," aimed at Shadwell,
+the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a>[<a href="./images/176.png">176</a>]</span>chief poet of the Opposition. At about the same time he produced
+"Religio Laici," a didactic poem explaining his religious opinions and
+defending the Church of England against dissenters, atheists, and
+Catholics. Not long after the accession of James II., Dryden, true to
+his policy of being always on the side of the ruling party, became a
+Catholic, and wrote "The Hind and the Panther," in which he eulogized
+many things that, in the former poem, he had ridiculed. His political
+career ended with the overthrow of James II., in 1688; but his literary
+activity continued unabated. The last years of his life were occupied in
+translating the works of Persius and Juvenal and the &AElig;neid of Virgil. In
+1697 he wrote "Alexander's Feast"; and his "modernizations" of some of
+Chaucer's poems appeared in 1700, the year of his death.</p>
+
+<p>"If there is grandeur in the pomp of kings and the march of hosts," says
+A. W. Ward, "in the 'trumpet's loud clangor' and in tapestries and
+carpetings of velvet and gold, Dryden is to be ranked with the grandest
+of English poets. The irresistible impetus of an invective which never
+falls short or flat, and the savor of a satire which never seems dull or
+stale, give him an undisputed place among the most glorious of English
+wits."</p>
+
+<p>"His descriptive power was of the highest," says Hales. "Our literature
+has in it no more vigorous portrait-gallery than that he has bequeathed
+it. His power of expression is beyond praise. There is always a singular
+<i>fitness</i> in his language: he uses always the right word. He is one of
+our greatest masters of metre: metre was, in fact, no restraint to him,
+but rather it seems to have given him freedom. It has been observed that
+he argues better in verse than in prose; verse was the natural costume
+of his thoughts."</p>
+
+<p>Professor Masson says: "Not only is Dryden the largest figure in one era
+of our literature: he is a very considerable figure also in our
+literature as a whole. Of all that he wrote, however, there is but a
+comparatively small portion that has won for itself a permanent place in
+our literature."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> Absalom and Achitophel; Mac Flecknoe; Religio
+Laici; Threnodia Augustalis.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>;
+Lowell's <i>Among My Books</i>; Macaulay's <i>Essay on John Dryden</i>; Taine's
+<i>English Literature</i>; Masson's <i>Three Devils and Other Essays</i>;
+Thackeray's <i>English Humorists</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a>[<a href="./images/177.png">177</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Milton.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.</h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the month, and this the happy morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wedded Maid and Virgin mother born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great redemption from above did bring:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For so the holy Sages once did sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he our deadly forfeit should release,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_1" id="marker_On_the_Morning_1"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The glorious form, that light unsufferable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that far-beaming blaze of majesty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith he wont<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_2" id="marker_On_the_Morning_2"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_2" class="marker">2</a> at Heav'ns high council-table<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He laid aside; and, here with us to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forsook the courts of everlasting day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_3" id="marker_On_the_Morning_3"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Say, heav'nly muse, shall not thy sacred vein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Afford a present to the Infant God?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To welcome him to this his new abode<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>[<a href="./images/178.png">178</a>]</span><span class="i0">Now while the Heav'n by the suns team untrod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hath took no print of the approaching light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">See how from far upon the eastern rode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The star-led Wisards<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_4" id="marker_On_the_Morning_4"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_4" class="marker">4</a> haste with odours sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O run, prevent<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_5" id="marker_On_the_Morning_5"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_5" class="marker">5</a> them with thy humble ode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And join thy voice unto the angel quire,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_6" id="marker_On_the_Morning_6"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_6" class="marker">6</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From out his secret altar toucht with hallow'd fire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 30%;" />
+<h3>THE HYMN.</h3>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">It was the winter wilde<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the Heav'n-born childe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nature in aw of him<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had doff't her gaudy trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her great Master so to sympathize:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It was no season then for her<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To wanton with the sun her lusty paramour.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_7" id="marker_On_the_Morning_7"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Onely with speeches fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She woo's the gentle air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hide her guilty front with innocent snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And on her naked shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pollute with sinfull blame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The saintly veil of maiden<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_8" id="marker_On_the_Morning_8"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_8" class="marker">8</a> white to throw:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>[<a href="./images/179.png">179</a>]</span>
+<span class="i2">Confounded that her Makers eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should look so near upon her foul deformities.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But he, her fears to cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sent down the meek-eyed Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down through the turning sphear,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_9" id="marker_On_the_Morning_9"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His ready harbinger,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_10" id="marker_On_the_Morning_10"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With turtle<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_11" id="marker_On_the_Morning_11"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_11" class="marker">11</a> wing the amorous clouds dividing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, waving wide her mirtle wand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She strikes a universall peace<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_12" id="marker_On_the_Morning_12"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_12" class="marker">12</a> through sea and land.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">No war, or battails sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was heard the world around;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The hooked chariot<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_13" id="marker_On_the_Morning_13"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_13" class="marker">13</a> stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unstain'd with hostile blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And kings sate still with awfull eye,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_14" id="marker_On_the_Morning_14"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But peacefull was the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wherein the Prince of Light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His raign of peace upon the earth began;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The windes, with wonder whist,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_15" id="marker_On_the_Morning_15"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Smoothly the waters kist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispering new joyes to the milde ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>[<a href="./images/180.png">180</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The stars, with deep amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bending one way their precious influence,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_16" id="marker_On_the_Morning_16"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And will not take their flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_17" id="marker_On_the_Morning_17"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_17" class="marker">17</a> all the morning light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Lucifer<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_18" id="marker_On_the_Morning_18"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_18" class="marker">18</a> that often warn'd them thence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But in their glimmering orbs did glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And, though the shady Gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had given day her room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hid his head for shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As his inferiour flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The new-enlightn'd world no more should need;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He saw a greater sun appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than his bright throne or burning axle-tree<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_19" id="marker_On_the_Morning_19"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_19" class="marker">19</a> could bear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>VIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The shepherds on the lawn<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_20" id="marker_On_the_Morning_20"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_20" class="marker">20</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or ere<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_21" id="marker_On_the_Morning_21"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_21" class="marker">21</a> the point of dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Full little thought they than<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That the mighty Pan<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_22" id="marker_On_the_Morning_22"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was kindly com to live with them below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was all that did their silly<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_23" id="marker_On_the_Morning_23"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_23" class="marker">23</a> thoughts so busie keep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>[<a href="./images/181.png">181</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>IX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">When such musick sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their hearts and ears did greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As never was by mortall finger strook,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_24" id="marker_On_the_Morning_24"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Divinely warbled voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Answering the stringed noise<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_25" id="marker_On_the_Morning_25"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As all their souls in blissfull rapture took;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The air, such pleasure loth to lose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_26" id="marker_On_the_Morning_26"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>X.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nature that heard such sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beneath the hollow round<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_27" id="marker_On_the_Morning_27"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_27" class="marker">27</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now was almost won<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To think her part was don,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that her raign had here its<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_28" id="marker_On_the_Morning_28"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_28" class="marker">28</a> last fulfilling;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She knew such harmony alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">At last surrounds their sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A globe of circular light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That with long beams the shame-fac't Night array'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The helmed Cherubim,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_29" id="marker_On_the_Morning_29"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_29" class="marker">29</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sworded Seraphim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Harping in loud and solemn quire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With unexpressive<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_30" id="marker_On_the_Morning_30"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_30" class="marker">30</a> notes to Heav'n's new-born Heir.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>[<a href="./images/182.png">182</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Such musick (as 'tis said)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before was never made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when of old the sons of Morning sung,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_31" id="marker_On_the_Morning_31"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the Creator great<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His constellation set,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the well-ballanc't world on hinges<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_32" id="marker_On_the_Morning_32"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_32" class="marker">32</a> hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And cast the dark foundations deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bid the weltring<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_33" id="marker_On_the_Morning_33"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_33" class="marker">33</a> waves their oozy channel keep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Ring out, ye crystall sphears;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_34" id="marker_On_the_Morning_34"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Once bless our humane ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(If ye have power to touch our senses so),<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And let your silver chime<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Move in melodious time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the base of Heav'ns deep organ blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with your ninefold harmony<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make up full consort<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_35" id="marker_On_the_Morning_35"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_35" class="marker">35</a> to th' angelike symphony.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">For, if such holy song<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enwrap our fancy long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time will run back and fetch the age of Gold;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_36" id="marker_On_the_Morning_36"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_36" class="marker">36</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And speckl'd Vanity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will sicken soon and die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_37" id="marker_On_the_Morning_37"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_37" class="marker">37</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Hell itself will pass away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><a name="end_stanza_14" id="end_stanza_14"></a>And leave her<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_38" id="marker_On_the_Morning_38"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_38" class="marker">38</a> dolorous mansions to the peering day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>[<a href="./images/183.png">183</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Yea, Truth and Justice then<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will down return to men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mercy will set between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thron'd in celestiall sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Heav'n, as at som festivall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_39" id="marker_On_the_Morning_39"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_39" class="marker">39</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XVI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But wisest Fate sayes no;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This must not yet be so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Babe lies yet in smiling infancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That on the bitter cross<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_40" id="marker_On_the_Morning_40"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_40" class="marker">40</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must redeem our loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So both himself and us to glorifie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet first to those ychain'd<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_41" id="marker_On_the_Morning_41"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_41" class="marker">41</a> in sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wakefull trump<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_42" id="marker_On_the_Morning_42"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_42" class="marker">42</a> of doom must thunder through the deep.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XVII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">With such a horrid clang<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As on Mount Sinai rang,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_43" id="marker_On_the_Morning_43"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_43" class="marker">43</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the red fire and smould'ring clouds out brake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The aged Earth, agast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With terrour of that blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall from the surface to the center shake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When at the worlds last session<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_44" id="marker_On_the_Morning_44"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_44" class="marker">44</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The dreadfull Judge in middle air shall spread his throne.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>[<a href="./images/184.png">184</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XVIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And then at last our bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Full and perfect is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now begins; for from this happy day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Th' old Dragon<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_45" id="marker_On_the_Morning_45"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_45" class="marker">45</a> under ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In straiter limits bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not half so far casts his usurped sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swindges<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_46" id="marker_On_the_Morning_46"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_46" class="marker">46</a> the scaly horrour of his foulded tail.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XIX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The oracles are dumm;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_47" id="marker_On_the_Morning_47"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_47" class="marker">47</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No voice or hideous humm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Apollo from his shrine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can no more divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_48" id="marker_On_the_Morning_48"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_48" class="marker">48</a> leaving.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No nightly trance, or breathed spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Inspires the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XX.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">The lonely mountains o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the resounding shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voice of weeping<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_49" id="marker_On_the_Morning_49"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_49" class="marker">49</a> heard and loud lament;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From haunted spring and dale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Edged with poplar pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The parting<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_50" id="marker_On_the_Morning_50"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_50" class="marker">50</a> Genius is with sighing sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With floure-inwov'n tresses torn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>[<a href="./images/185.png">185</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">In consecrated earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And on the holy hearth<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_51" id="marker_On_the_Morning_51"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_51" class="marker">51</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In urns and altars round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A drear and dying sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affrights the Flamins<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_52" id="marker_On_the_Morning_52"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_52" class="marker">52</a> at their service quaint<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the chill marble seems to sweat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While each peculiar power forgoes<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_53" id="marker_On_the_Morning_53"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_53" class="marker">53</a> his wonted seat.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Peor and Ba&auml;lim<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_54" id="marker_On_the_Morning_54"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_54" class="marker">54</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Forsake their temples dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that twise batter'd god<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_55" id="marker_On_the_Morning_55"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_55" class="marker">55</a> of Palestine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And mooned Ashtaroth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heav'ns queen and mother both,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_56" id="marker_On_the_Morning_56"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_56" class="marker">56</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXIII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And sullen Moloch, fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath left in shadows dred<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_57" id="marker_On_the_Morning_57"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_57" class="marker">57</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His burning idol all of blackest hue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain with cymbals ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They call the grisly<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_58" id="marker_On_the_Morning_58"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_58" class="marker">58</a> King<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dismall dance about the furnace blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The brutish<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_59" id="marker_On_the_Morning_59"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_59" class="marker">59</a> gods of Nile as fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis last.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>[<a href="./images/186.png">186</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXIV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Nor is Osiris seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Memphian grove or green<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trampling the unshowr'd grass<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_60" id="marker_On_the_Morning_60"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_60" class="marker">60</a> with lowings loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor can he be at rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Within his sacred chest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipt ark.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXV.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He feels from Judas land<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The dredded Infants hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_61" id="marker_On_the_Morning_61"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_61" class="marker">61</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor all the gods beside<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Longer dare abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Can in his swaddling bands controul the damned crew.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>XXVI.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So, when the Sun in bed,<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_62" id="marker_On_the_Morning_62"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_62" class="marker">62</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Curtain'd with cloudy red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flocking shadows pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Troop to th' infernal jail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each fetter'd ghost slips to his severall grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the yellow-skirted Fayes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd maze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>[<a href="./images/187.png">187</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>XXVII.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But see the Virgin blest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath laid her Babe to rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time is our tedious song should here have ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Heav'ns youngest teemed<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_63" id="marker_On_the_Morning_63"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_63" class="marker">63</a> star<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath fixt her polish'd car,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all about the courtly stable<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.<a name="marker_On_the_Morning_64" id="marker_On_the_Morning_64"></a><a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_64" class="marker">64</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was begun by Milton on Christmas day, 1629. He had then just
+completed his twenty-first year, and was still an undergraduate at
+Christ's College, Cambridge. From certain fragments and other evidence,
+it is believed that he contemplated writing a series of poems on great
+Christian events in a similar way. This is the first poem of importance
+which he wrote. Hallam speaks of it as perhaps the finest lyric of its
+kind in the English language. "A grandeur, a simplicity, a breadth of
+manner, an imagination at once elevated and restrained by the subject,
+reign throughout it. If Pindar is a model of lyric poetry, it would be
+hard to name any other ode so truly Pindaric; but more has naturally
+been derived from the Scriptures."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_1" id="Note_On_the_Morning_1"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_1">1.</a> <b>our deadly forfeit should release.</b> Should remit the penalty of death
+pronounced against us. Shakespeare has a similar use of the word
+"forfeit."</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Remit thy other forfeits."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Measure for Measure</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_2" id="Note_On_the_Morning_2"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_2">2.</a> <b>wont.</b> The past tense of the A.-S. verb <i>wunian</i>, to persist, to
+continue, to be accustomed. Now used only in connection with some form
+of the auxiliary verb <i>be</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_3" id="Note_On_the_Morning_3"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_3">3.</a> Explain the meaning of each word in this line, and of the whole line.
+The next two stanzas comprise an invocation to the Muse of Poetry. See
+note 1, page <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>[<a href="./images/188.png">188</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_4" id="Note_On_the_Morning_4"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_4">4.</a> <b>Wisards.</b> Wizards. Wise men. The word was originally used in this
+sense, and not with the depreciatory meaning of "magician," as at
+present. Spenser says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Therefore the antique wizards well invented<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That Venus of the fomy sea was bred,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>meaning by "antique wizards" ancient philosophers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_5" id="Note_On_the_Morning_5"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_5">5.</a> <b>prevent.</b> Go before; the original meaning of the word, from Lat.
+<i>pr&aelig;</i>, before, and <i>venio</i>, to go or come.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"I prevented the dawning of the morning."&mdash;<i>Psalm</i> cxix. 147.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning, for I will prevent the sun
+rising."&mdash;<i>Izaak Walton</i>, <i>Compleat Angler</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_6" id="Note_On_the_Morning_6"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_6">6.</a> <b>angel quire.</b> "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of
+the heavenly host praising God."&mdash;<i>Luke</i> ii, 13.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_7" id="Note_On_the_Morning_7"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_7">7.</a> <b>paramour.</b> See note 9, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_8" id="Note_On_the_Morning_8"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_8">8.</a> <b>maiden.</b> Pure, innocent, unpolluted. Compare</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When I am dead, strew me o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With maiden flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Henry VIII</i>, Act iv, sc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_9" id="Note_On_the_Morning_9"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_9">9.</a> <b>turning sphear.</b> The Ptolemaic system of astronomy taught that the
+earth was the centre of the universe, and that all the heavenly bodies
+revolved about it, being fixed in a complicated framework, or series of
+hollow crystalline spheres moving one within the other. The "turning
+sphear" is here this entire system of revolving spheres. See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>,
+below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_10" id="Note_On_the_Morning_10"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_10">10.</a> <b>harbinger.</b> One who provides a resting-place for a superior person.
+It was the duty of the king's harbinger, when the court removed from one
+place to another, to provide lodgings for the king's retinue. Derived
+from <i>harbor</i>, <i>harborage</i>. The word "harbor" is from A.-S. <i>here</i>,
+army, and <i>beorg</i>, a refuge. Others derive the word from <i>har</i>, a
+message, and <i>bringer</i>&mdash;hence, one who brings a message, a herald.</p>
+
+<p>Parkes's <i>Topography of Hampstead</i>, 1818, contains the following:</p>
+
+<p>"The office of harbinger still exists in the Royal Household, the
+nominal duty of the officer being to ride one stage onward before the
+king on his progress, to provide lodging and provision for the court."</p>
+
+<p>The last knight-harbinger was Sir Henry Rycroft (appointed in 1816, died
+October, 1846, aged eighty). The office became extinct at his death.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_11" id="Note_On_the_Morning_11"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_11">11.</a> <b>turtle.</b> Commonly <i>turtle-dove</i>. For history of the word as now
+applied to the tortoise, see Worcester's Dictionary.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_12" id="Note_On_the_Morning_12"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_12">12.</a> <b>universall peace.</b> About the time of the birth of Christ there <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>[<a href="./images/189.png">189</a>]</span>was
+peace throughout the Roman Empire, and the temple of Janus was shut.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_13" id="Note_On_the_Morning_13"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_13">13.</a> <b>hooked chariot.</b> The war-chariot armed with scythes, a Celtic
+invention adopted by the Romans.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_14" id="Note_On_the_Morning_14"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_14">14.</a> <b>awfull eye.</b> We would say, "awe-filled eyes."</p>
+
+<p><b>sovran.</b> Old French <i>souverain</i>. Some derive it from Lat. <i>supra</i>, above,
+and <i>regno</i>, to reign.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_15" id="Note_On_the_Morning_15"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_15">15.</a> <b>whist.</b> Hushed. This word, now used as a sort of interjection
+commanding silence, seems to have had in earlier English more of a
+verbal meaning, as Spenser in "The Faerie Queene," VII, vii, 59:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So was the Titaness put downe and whist."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It also meant <i>to keep silent</i>, as in Surrey's "Virgil":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They whisted all, with fixed face intent."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>A game of cards in which the players are supposed to keep silent is
+called whist.</p>
+
+<p><b>birds of calm.</b> Halcyons. See note 1, page <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_16" id="Note_On_the_Morning_16"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_16">16.</a> <b>influence.</b> From Lat. <i>in</i>, into, and <i>fluo</i>, to flow. This word,
+until a comparatively modern date, was always used with respect to the
+supposed mysterious rays or aspects flowing from the stars to the earth,
+and thus having a strange power over the fortunes of men. "Canst thou
+bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades?"&mdash;<i>Job</i> xxviii. 31.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Happy constellations on that hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Shed their selectest influences."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Paradise Lost</i>, VIII, 512.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_17" id="Note_On_the_Morning_17"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_17">17.</a> <b>For.</b> Notwithstanding.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_18" id="Note_On_the_Morning_18"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_18">18.</a> <b>Lucifer.</b> The morning star. The idea of Lucifer appearing to warn the
+stars of the approach of the sun is a happy figure. See note 7, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_19" id="Note_On_the_Morning_19"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_19">19.</a> <b>axle-tree.</b> Axis. <i>Tree</i> in O. E. is used to signify beam. We still
+have <i>single-tree</i>, <i>double-tree</i>, <i>whiffle-tree</i>, etc. Compare "Comus,"
+95:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The gilded car of day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His glowing axle doth allay."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_20" id="Note_On_the_Morning_20"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_20">20.</a> <b>lawn.</b> Used in its original sense of a pasture, or open, grassy
+space. Formerly <i>laund</i>. Similarly we have <i>lane</i>, an open passage
+between houses or fields.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_21" id="Note_On_the_Morning_21"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_21">21.</a> <b>Or ere.</b> <i>Or</i> is here used in its old sense, meaning <i>before</i>, from
+A.-S. <i>&aelig;r</i>. <i>Ere</i> = e'er, ever. Compare Ecclesiastes xii. 6: "Or ever
+the silver cord be loosed." Also "King Lear," Act ii, sc. 4:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"But this heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ere I'll weep."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>[<a href="./images/190.png">190</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_22" id="Note_On_the_Morning_22"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_22">22.</a> <b>Pan.</b> See note, page <a href="#Page_73">72</a>. The application of the name <i>Pan</i> to Christ
+is evidently derived from Spenser. See "Shepheards Calendar," July:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And such, I ween, the brethren were<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">That came from Cana&auml;n,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere<br /></span>
+<span class="i1i">The flocks of mightie Pan."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In the Glosse to the Calendar for May it is said that "Great Pan is
+Christ, the very God of all shepheards, which calleth himselfe the great
+and good shepheard. The name is most rightly (methinks) applied to him;
+for Pan signifieth all, or omnipotent, which is only the Lord Iesus. And
+by that name (as I remember) he is called of Eusebius in his fifth
+booke, <i>De Preparat. Evange.</i>"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_23" id="Note_On_the_Morning_23"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_23">23.</a> <b>silly.</b> From A.-S. <i>saelig</i>, blessed, happy. Spenser uses the word in
+the sense of innocent, as in "Faerie Queene," III, viii, 27:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The silly virgin strove him to withstand."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Chaucer, in the "Reves Tale," uses it in the more modern sense of
+simple, or foolish:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"These sely clerkes han ful fast yronne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But in the "Legend of Good Women" it has another meaning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O sely woman, full of innocence."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The meaning of this word has completely changed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_24" id="Note_On_the_Morning_24"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_24">24.</a> <b>strook.</b> Caused to sound as on a stringed instrument. Compare Dryden
+in "Alexander's Feast":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now strike the golden lyre again."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_25" id="Note_On_the_Morning_25"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_25">25.</a> <b>noise.</b> A company of musicians under a leader. Used in this sense by
+both Shakespeare and Ben Jonson.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_26" id="Note_On_the_Morning_26"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_26">26.</a> <b>close.</b> Cadence. See Dryden, "Fables":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At every <i>close</i> she made, th' attending throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Replied, and bore the burden of the song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_27" id="Note_On_the_Morning_27"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_27">27.</a> <b>hollow round.</b> The sphere in which the moon has its motion. See notes
+<a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_9">9</a> and <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Cynthia.</b> The moon. In the ancient mythology applied to Artemis, from
+Mount Cynthus in the island of Delos, her birthplace.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_28" id="Note_On_the_Morning_28"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_28">28.</a> <b>its.</b> In all his poetry, Milton uses this word only three times. The
+other examples are in "Paradise Lost," I, 254, and IV, 814. This
+possessive form of the pronoun it was never used until the time of
+Shakespeare, who employs it five times in "A Winter's Tale," and once in
+"Measure for Measure"; it does not occur anywhere in the authorized
+version of the Bible.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>[<a href="./images/191.png">191</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_On_the_Morning_29" id="Note_On_the_Morning_29"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_29">29.</a> Why are the Cherubim "helmed," while the Seraphim are "sworded"?
+Addison says, "Some of the rabbins tell us that the cherubims are a set
+of angels who know most, and the seraphims a set of angels who love
+most." Observe that the plural of cherub or of seraph may be formed in
+three ways: viz. cherubs, cherubim, cherubims; seraphs, seraphim,
+seraphims.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_30" id="Note_On_the_Morning_30"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_30">30.</a> <b>unexpressive.</b> Inexpressible. See Shakespeare, "As You Like It":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also Milton, "Lycidas," 176:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And hears the unexpressive nuptiall song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_31" id="Note_On_the_Morning_31"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_31">31.</a> <b>the sons of Morning sung.</b> See Job xxxviii. 4-7, the oldest reference
+to the "music of the spheres." See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_34">34</a>, below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_32" id="Note_On_the_Morning_32"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_32">32.</a> <b>hinges.</b> Literally, a hinge is anything for hanging something upon.
+From A.-S. <i>hangian</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_33" id="Note_On_the_Morning_33"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_33">33.</a> <b>weltring.</b> Rolling, wallowing. See "Lycidas," 13.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_34" id="Note_On_the_Morning_34"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_34">34.</a> <b>Ring out.</b> An allusion to the music of the spheres. See note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_27">27</a>,
+above. The theory of Pythagoras was that the distances between the
+heavenly bodies were determined by the laws of musical concord. "These
+orbs in their motion could not but produce a certain sound or note,
+depending upon their distances and velocities; and as these were
+regulated by harmonic laws, they necessarily formed as a whole a
+complete musical scale." "In the whorl of the distaff of necessity there
+are eight concentric whorls. These whorls represent respectively the sun
+and moon, the five planets, and the fixed stars. On each whorl sits a
+siren singing. Their eight tones make one exquisite harmony." Milton
+added a ninth whorl,&mdash;"that swift nocturnal and diurnal rhomb,"&mdash;and
+then spoke of the "ninefold harmony," as just below. This was a favorite
+idea with the poets.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Listening the lordly music flowing from<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The illimitable years."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Tennyson</i>, <i>Ode to Memory</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The music of the spheres! list, my Mariana!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Pericles</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But in his motion like an angel sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act v, sc. 1.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">How would he wish that Heaven had left him still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The whispering zephyr and the purling rill!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Pope</i>, <i>Essay on Man</i>, I.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a>[<a href="./images/192.png">192</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">"Her voice, the music of the spheres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">So loud, it deafens mortals' ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As wise philosophers have thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And that's the cause we hear it not."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Butler's Hudibras</i>, II, i, 617.</p>
+
+<p>See, also, Montaigne, <i>Essays</i>, I, xxii; Sir Thomas Browne's <i>Religio
+Medici</i>, II, 9; Plato's <i>Republic</i>, VI; Dryden's "Ode to Mrs. Anne
+Killigrew," etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_35" id="Note_On_the_Morning_35"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_35">35.</a> <b>consort.</b> Accompaniment. This word, so written until Milton's time,
+has now given place to <i>concert</i>, whenever used as here.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_36" id="Note_On_the_Morning_36"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_36">36.</a> <b>age of Gold.</b> The fabled primeval age of universal happiness.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A blisful lyfe, a peseable, and so swete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Ledde the peplis in the former age."&mdash;<i>Chaucer.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_37" id="Note_On_the_Morning_37"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_37">37.</a> <b>mould.</b> Matter, substance. The word is used in the old Romances to
+denote the earth itself. Milton elsewhere says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_38" id="Note_On_the_Morning_38"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_38">38.</a> <b>her.</b> Observe what has already been said (note <a href="#Note_On_the_Morning_28">28</a>, above) about the
+pronoun <i>its</i>. <i>Hell</i>, in the Anglo-Saxon language, is feminine. But,
+just above, observe the expression <i>it self</i>. See, in the <a href="#end_stanza_14">last line</a> of
+stanza xv, the pronoun <i>her</i> with <i>heaven</i> as its antecedent. <i>Heofon</i>,
+in the Anglo-Saxon, is also feminine.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_39" id="Note_On_the_Morning_39"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_39">39.</a> This stanza is a fine example of word-painting. What idea is
+conveyed to your mind by the expressions, "orb'd in a rainbow," "like
+glories wearing," "thron'd in celestiall sheen," "the tissued clouds
+down stearing," etc.? What kind of glories will Mercy wear? Where will
+she sit? How will she be enthroned? What are <i>radiant</i> feet? Why are
+Mercy's feet radiant? Does she steer the tissued clouds "with radiant
+feet," or does she steer herself down the tissued clouds? Why will the
+opening of Heaven's high palace wall be "as at some festivall"?</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_40" id="Note_On_the_Morning_40"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_40">40.</a> <b>bitter cross.</b> Compare Shakespeare, "1 Henry IV," Act i, sc. 1, 27:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i9">"Those blessed feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For our advantage, on the bitter cross."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_41" id="Note_On_the_Morning_41"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_41">41.</a> <b>ychain'd.</b> The <i>y</i> is a corruption of the prefix <i>ge</i>, anciently used
+in connection with the past participle, and still retained in many
+German words. Often used by Chaucer and Spenser, as in yblessed,
+yburied, ybrent, yfonden, ygeten, yclad, yfraught, etc.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_42" id="Note_On_the_Morning_42"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_42">42.</a> <b>trump.</b> "For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout,
+with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead
+in Christ shall rise first."&mdash;<i>1 Thessalonians</i> iv. 16.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>[<a href="./images/193.png">193</a>]</span>
+<b>wakefull.</b> Awakening.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_43" id="Note_On_the_Morning_43"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_43">43.</a> <b>rang.</b> See Exodus xix.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_44" id="Note_On_the_Morning_44"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_44">44.</a> <b>session.</b> Assize. Both words were originally from the same root, Lat.
+<i>sedeo</i>, <i>sessum</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>spread.</b> Prepare, make ready. A similar use of the word survives in the
+idiom "to spread the table."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_45" id="Note_On_the_Morning_45"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_45">45.</a> <b>Dragon.</b> See Revelation xii. 9.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_46" id="Note_On_the_Morning_46"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_46">46.</a> <b>Swindges.</b> Swings about violently. This is the only case in which
+Milton uses this word. It is used several times by Shakespeare in the
+sense of <i>to whip</i>, <i>to scourge</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_47" id="Note_On_the_Morning_47"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_47">47.</a> <b>oracles are dumm.</b> Keightly says: "This was a frequent assertion of
+the Fathers, who ascribed to the coming of Christ what was the effect of
+time. They regarded the ancient oracles as having been the inspiration
+of the devil."</p>
+
+<p>Spenser, quoting the story which Plutarch relates in "his Booke of the
+ceasing of miracles," says, "For at that time, as hee sayth, all Oracles
+surceased, and enchaunted spirites that were woont to delude the people
+thenceforth held their peace."&mdash;<i>Glosse to Shepheards Calendar, May.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_48" id="Note_On_the_Morning_48"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_48">48.</a> <b>Delphos.</b> The medi&aelig;val form of the word <i>Delphi</i>. The temple where
+was the chief oracle of Apollo was at Delphi, built at the foot of a
+precipitous cliff two thousand feet high. This oracle was suppressed by
+the Emperor Theodosius.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_49" id="Note_On_the_Morning_49"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_49">49.</a> <b>weeping.</b> Compare Matthew ii. 19, and Jeremiah xxxi. 15.</p>
+
+<p>Spenser, in the same <i>Glosse</i>, quoted from above, says, "About the same
+time that our Lorde suffered his most bitter passion for the redemption
+of man, certaine persons sailing from Italie to Cyprus and passing by
+certaine iles called Pax&aelig;, heard a voice calling aloud Thamus, Thamus,
+(now Thamus was the name of an Egyptian which was pylote of the ship),
+who, giving ear to the crie, was bidden, when he came to Palodes to tell
+that great Pan was dead: which hee doubting to doe, yet for that when
+hee came to Palodes, there suddenly was such a calme of winde that the
+ship stoode still in the sea unmooved, he was forced to crie aloude that
+Pan was dead: wherewithall there was heard such piteous outcries, and
+dreadfull shriking as hath not beene the like."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_50" id="Note_On_the_Morning_50"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_50">50.</a> <b>parting.</b> Departing. Frequently used in Old English.</p>
+
+<p><b>Genius.</b> Spirit. See "Lycidas," 182:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_51" id="Note_On_the_Morning_51"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_51">51.</a> <b>consecrated earth&mdash;holy hearth.</b> Referring to the places specially
+haunted by the Lars and Lemures. The Lemures were the spirits of the
+dead, and were said to wander about at night, frightening the living.
+The Lares were the household gods, sometimes referred to as the spirits
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>[<a href="./images/194.png">194</a>]</span>of good men. The former frequented the graveyards; the latter, the
+hearths.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_52" id="Note_On_the_Morning_52"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_52">52.</a> <b>Flamins.</b> Priests.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_53" id="Note_On_the_Morning_53"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_53">53.</a> <b>forgoes.</b> Goes from, gives up, abandons.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_54" id="Note_On_the_Morning_54"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_54">54.</a> <b>Peor and Ba&auml;lim.</b> Compare the proper names which occur in this and
+the following stanzas with those in "Paradise Lost," I, 316-352.</p>
+
+<p><b>Peor.</b> The name of a mountain of Palestine is here used as one of the
+titles of Baal, who was worshipped there.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ba&auml;lim.</b> Plural of Baal, meaning that god in his various modifications.</p>
+
+<p><b>Ashtaroth.</b> The Syrian goddess Astarte. But her worship was identified
+rather with the planet Venus than with the moon.</p>
+
+<p><b>Hammon.</b> A Libyan deity, represented as a ram or as a man with ram's
+horns.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_55" id="Note_On_the_Morning_55"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_55">55.</a> <b>twise batter'd god.</b> Dagon. See 1 Samuel v.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_56" id="Note_On_the_Morning_56"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_56">56.</a> <b>mourn.</b> In Ph&oelig;nicia, in the ancient city of Byblos, a festival of
+two days was held every year in honor of Adonis, or Thammuz, as the
+Ph&oelig;nicians called him. The first day was observed as a day of
+mourning for the death of the god; the second, as a day of rejoicing
+because of his return to the earth. The principal participants were
+young women. The prophet Ezekiel alludes to this subject: "Then he
+brought me to the door of the gate of the Lord's house which was toward
+the north; and, behold, there sat women weeping for Tammuz."&mdash;<i>Ezekiel</i>
+viii. 14.</p>
+
+<p>Milton, in "Paradise Lost," says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Thammuz came next behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Syrian damsels to lament his fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In amorous ditties all a summer's day."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_57" id="Note_On_the_Morning_57"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_57">57.</a> Compare with "Paradise Lost," I, 392-405. In <i>Sandys's Travels</i>,
+published in 1615, and a popular book in Milton's time, the following
+description is given of the sacrifices made to Moloch: "Therein the
+Hebrews sacrificed their children to Moloch, an idol of brass, having
+the head of a calf, the rest of a kingly figure, with arms extended to
+receive the miserable sacrifice seared to death with his burning
+embracements. For the idol was hollow within and filled with fire."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_58" id="Note_On_the_Morning_58"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_58">58.</a> <b>grisly.</b> Frightful, hideous. Probably from A.-S. <i>agrisan</i>, to dread.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_59" id="Note_On_the_Morning_59"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_59">59.</a> <b>brutish.</b> Shaped like a brute; animal.</p>
+
+<p><b>Isis.</b> The Egyptian earth-goddess, afterwards worshipped as the goddess
+of the moon.</p>
+
+<p><b>Orus.</b> The Egyptian god of the sun.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>[<a href="./images/195.png">195</a>]</span>
+the dog <b>Anubis</b>. Juvenal says, "Whole towns worship the dog."&mdash;<i>Sat.</i>,
+XV, 8.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_60" id="Note_On_the_Morning_60"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_60">60.</a> <b>unshowr'd.</b> A reference to the general, though erroneous, idea that
+it does not rain in Egypt.</p>
+
+<p><b>Osiris</b>, or Apis, one of the chief gods of the Egyptians, was represented
+by a bull.</p>
+
+<p><b>sacred chest</b> = <b>worshipt ark</b>, below.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_61" id="Note_On_the_Morning_61"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_61">61.</a> <b>eyn.</b> The old plural form of eyes. This form of the plural survives
+in <i>oxen</i>, <i>children</i>, <i>brethren</i>, <i>kine</i>, <i>swine</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Typhon.</b> A monster among the gods, variously described by the poets. He
+was a terror to all the other deities.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_62" id="Note_On_the_Morning_62"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_62">62.</a> <b>in bed.</b> The sun has not yet risen.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_63" id="Note_On_the_Morning_63"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_63">63.</a> <b>youngest teemed.</b> Referring to the Star of Bethlehem.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_On_the_Morning_64" id="Note_On_the_Morning_64"></a><a href="#marker_On_the_Morning_64">64.</a> Compare Milton's "Sonnet on his Blindness":</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"They also serve who only stand and wait."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Milton</span> was born in Bread Street, Cheapside, London, in the year
+1608, eight years before the death of Shakespeare. From his boyhood he
+showed the possession of more than ordinary powers of mind. He was
+educated first under private tutors, and at St. Paul's School, and
+finally at Christ's College, Cambridge, where in 1632 he received the
+degree of "Master of Arts." His first considerable work was the "Hymn on
+the Morning of the Nativity," written in 1629. Within the next seven
+years he wrote the most noteworthy of his shorter poems: the masque,
+"Comus"; the pastoral piece entitled "Arcades"; the beautiful
+descriptive poems, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso"; and the elegy,
+"Lycidas." In 1639 he made a tour upon the Continent, visited the famous
+seats of learning in France and Italy, and made the acquaintance of many
+of the great poets and scholars of his time. Upon hearing, however, that
+civil war was about to break out in England, he hastened home, resolved
+to devote himself to what he regarded as his country's best interests.
+Poetry was abandoned for politics, and for the next twenty years he
+wrote little except prose&mdash;political tracts and controversial essays.
+When Cromwell became Lord Protector of England, Milton was appointed
+Latin Secretary of State, a position <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>[<a href="./images/196.png">196</a>]</span>which he continued to hold until
+towards the downfall of the Commonwealth. But after the Restoration he
+quietly withdrew into retirement, resolved to devote the remainder of
+his life to the writing of the great poem which he had been
+contemplating for many years. Through unceasing study he had lost his
+sight; the friends of his youth had deserted him; the fortune which he
+had received from his father was gone. And so it was in darkness, and
+disappointment, and poverty, that in 1667 he gave to the world the great
+English epic, "Paradise Lost." It was in that same year that Dryden
+published his "Annus Mirabilis." Milton shortly afterward wrote
+"Paradise Regained"; and, in 1671, he produced "Samson Agonistes," a
+tragedy modelled after the masterpieces of the Greek drama. On the 8th
+of November, 1674, at the age of sixty-six years, his strangely eventful
+life came to a close.</p>
+
+
+<h3>WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">England hath need of thee; she is a fen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stagnant waters; altar, sword, and pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have forfeited their ancient English dower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! raise us up, return to us again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So didst thou travel on life's common way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lowliest duties on herself did lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas;
+selections from Paradise Lost.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Masson's <i>Life and Times of John Milton</i>; <i>Milton</i>
+(Classical Writers), by Stopford Brooke; <i>Milton</i> (English Men of
+Letters), by Mark Pattison; Macaulay's Essay on <i>Milton</i>; De Quincey,
+<i>Milton vs. Southey and Landor</i>; Coleridge's <i>Literary Remains</i>;
+Johnson's <i>Lives of the Poets</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>[<a href="./images/197.png">197</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Robert Herrick.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO PHILLIS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Live, live with me, and thou shalt see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pleasures I'll prepare for thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sweets the country can afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With crawling woodbine over-spread:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By which the silver-shedding streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall gently melt thee into dreams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy clothing next, shall be a gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made of the fleeces' purest down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tongue of kids shall be thy meat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their milk thy drink; and thou shalt eat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The paste of filberts for thy bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With cream of cowslips butter&egrave;d:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy feasting-table shall be hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With daisies spread, and daffadils;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou shalt sit, and Red-breast by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For meat, shall give thee melody.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll give thee chains and carcanets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of primroses and violets.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A bag and bottle thou shalt have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That richly wrought, and this as brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that as either shall express<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wearer's no mean shepherdess.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a>[<a href="./images/198.png">198</a>]</span><span class="i0">At shearing-times, and yearly wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Themilis his pastime makes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There thou shalt be; and be the wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay more, the feast, and grace of it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On holydays, when virgins meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To dance the heys with nimble feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt come forth, and then appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Queen of Roses for that year.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having danced ('bove all the best)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carry the garland from the rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In wicker-baskets maids shall bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee, my dearest shepherdling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blushing apple, bashful pear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shame-faced plum, all simp'ring there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The name of Phillis in the rind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every straight and smooth-skin tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee a sheep-hook I will send,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be-prank'd with ribbons, to this end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This, this alluring hook might be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Less for to catch a sheep, than me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not made of ale, but spic&egrave;d wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make thy maids and self free mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of winning colors that shall move<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others to lust, but me to love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;These, nay, and more, thine own shall be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thou wilt love, and live with me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>[<a href="./images/199.png">199</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE MAD MAID'S SONG.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good morrow to the day so fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good morning, sir, to you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good morrow to mine own torn hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bedabbled with the dew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good morning to this primrose too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Good morrow to each maid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That will with flowers the tomb bestrew<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wherein my Love is laid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Alack and well-a-day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For pity, sir, find out that bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which bore my Love away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I'll seek him in your eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, now I think they've made his grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I' th' bed of strawberries.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cold, cold earth doth shake him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I will go, or send a kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By you, sir, to awake him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He knows well who do love him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who with green turfs rear his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And who do rudely move him.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>[<a href="./images/200.png">200</a>]</span><span class="i0">He's soft and tender, pray take heed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With bands of cowslips bind him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring him home;&mdash;but 'tis decreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I shall never find him.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A THANKSGIVING TO GOD.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lord, thou hast given me a cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Wherein to dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little house, whose humble roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is weather proof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the spars of which I lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Both soft and dry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thou, my chamber for to ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hast set a guard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me, while I sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low is my porch, as is my fate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Both void of state;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet the threshold of my door<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is worn by th' poor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who thither come, and freely get<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Good words, or meat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like as my parlor, so my hall<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And kitchen's small;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little buttery, and therein<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A little bin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which keeps my little loaf of bread<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Unchipt, unflead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Make me a fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>[<a href="./images/201.png">201</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Close by whose living coal I sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And glow like it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, I confess too, when I dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The pulse is thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all those other bits that be<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">There placed by thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The worts, the purslain, and the mess<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of water-cress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And my content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes those, and my belov&egrave;d beet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To be more sweet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With guiltless mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Spiced to the brink.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That soils my land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Twice ten for one;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Her egg each day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, my healthful ewes to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me twins each year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The while the conduits of my kine<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Run cream, for wine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All these, and better, thou dost send<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Me, to this end,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I should render, for my part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A thankful heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, fired with incense, I resign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As wholly thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But the acceptance, that must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My Christ, by Thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>[<a href="./images/202.png">202</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Herrick</span> was born in Cheapside, London, August 20, 1591. He was
+educated at Cambridge, and in 1629, having taken orders, was presented
+to the vicarage of Dean Prior in Devonshire. From this living he was
+ejected by the Long Parliament in 1648, and, going up to London, he
+united himself with some of his former associates and entered upon a
+career not altogether creditable to his profession of parson. At the
+restoration of Charles II. he was returned to his vicarage, where he
+remained until his death in 1674. His best poems are included in the
+collection entitled "Hesperides, or Works Humane and Divine," published
+in 1648, and dedicated to "the most illustrious and most hopeful Prince
+Charles." The "Argument" prefixed to this collection very prettily
+describes the character of the pieces which it contains:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of Youth, of Love;&mdash;and have access<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of balm, of oil, of spice, of ambergris.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">How roses first came red, and lilies white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Heaven,&mdash;and hope to have it after all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Herrick's best things," says Robert Buchanan, "are his poems in praise
+of the country life, and his worst things are his epigrams. His
+gladsome, mercurial temper had a great deal to do with the composition
+of his best lyrics; for the parson of Dean Prior was no philosopher, and
+his lightest, airiest verses are the best. His was a happy, careless
+nature, throwing off verses out of the fulness of a joyous heart,
+rioting in a pleasant, sunny element."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>[<a href="./images/203.png">203</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Edmund Waller.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SONG.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, lovely Rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell her that wastes her time and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That now she knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I resemble her to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet and fair she seems to be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tell her that's young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shuns to have her graces spied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That had'st thou sprung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In deserts where no men abide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou must have uncommended died.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Small is the worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of beauty from the light retired;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bid her come forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffer herself to be desired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not blush so to be admired.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then die, that she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The common fate of all things rare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May read in thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How small a part of time they share<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who are so wondrous sweet and fair.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>[<a href="./images/204.png">204</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>OF ENGLISH VERSE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poets may boast, as safely vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their works shall with the world remain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both bound together, live or die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The verses and the prophecy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But who can hope his line should long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Last, in a daily-changing tongue?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they are new, envy prevails;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as that dies our language fails.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When architects have done their part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The matter may betray their art:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time, if we use ill-chosen stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon brings a well-built palace down.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Poets, that lasting marble seek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must carve in Latin or in Greek:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We write in sand, our language grows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, like the tide, our work o'erflows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Chaucer his sense can only boast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glory of his numbers lost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Years have defac't his matchless strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet he did not sing in vain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The beauties which adorn'd that age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shining subjects of his rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hoping they should immortal prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rewarded with success his love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>[<a href="./images/205.png">205</a>]</span><span class="i0">This was the gen'rous poet's scope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all an English pen can hope;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make the fair approve his flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That can so far extend their fame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Verse thus design'd has no ill fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If it arrive but at the date<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fading beauty, if it prove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as long-liv'd as present love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON A GIRDLE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That which her slender waist confin'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall now my joyful temples bind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No monarch but would give his crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His arms might do what this has done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was my heaven's extremest sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pale which held that lovely deer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did all within this circle move!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A narrow compass! and yet there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give me but what this riband bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take all the rest the sun goes round.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Edmund Waller</span>, whose poetry is noticeable because he was the first
+English versifier to adopt the French fashion of writing in couplets,
+was born in Warwickshire in 1605. He was elected to Parliament at the
+age of seventeen, and was a member of that body <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>[<a href="./images/206.png">206</a>]</span>during the greater part
+of his life. At the beginning of the difficulties between the king and
+the Parliament, he gained some notoriety by his opposition to the
+former, but when the Civil War broke out he attached himself to the
+Royalist cause. In 1643, being convicted of complicity in a plot against
+Parliament, he was fined &pound;10,000 and imprisoned for twelve months. After
+his release he went to France; but in 1653 he returned to England and
+became reconciled to the new government, writing, soon afterward, "A
+Panegyric to my Lord Protector, of the present Greatness and joint
+Interest of his Highness and this Nation." At the Restoration he eagerly
+declared allegiance to Charles II., and wrote a congratulatory ode on
+that monarch's return. He became a court favorite, noted for his wit,
+was made provost of Eton, and returned to his old place in Parliament.
+He died October 21, 1687. The first edition of his poems was published
+in 1645, and from that time to the close of the seventeenth century he
+was quite generally regarded as the greatest of English poets. At the
+present time there are few writers so little considered as he.</p>
+
+<p>Waller may be regarded as the founder of the classical school of English
+poetry, in which Dryden and Pope excelled, and which remained in the
+ascendency for more than a century after his death. "The excellence and
+dignity of rhyme," says Dryden, "were never fully known till Mr. Waller
+taught it; he first made writing easily an art, first showed us to
+conclude the sense, most commonly, in distichs, which in the verse of
+those before him runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is
+out of breath to overtake it."</p>
+
+<p>And Dr. Johnson says: "He certainly very much excelled in smoothness
+most of the writers who were living when his poetry commenced. But he
+was rather smooth than strong: of the 'full resounding line' which Pope
+attributes to Dryden, he has given very few examples. The general
+character of his poetry is elegance and gaiety. He seems neither to have
+had a mind much elevated by nature, nor amplified by learning. His
+thoughts are such as a liberal conversation and large acquaintance with
+life would easily supply."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>[<a href="./images/207.png">207</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Ben Jonson.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>AN ODE TO HIMSELF.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where dost Thou careless lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Buried in ease and sloth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this security,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is the common moth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That eats on wits and arts, and [so] destroys them both.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are all the Aonian<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" class="marker">1</a> springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dried up? lies Thespia waste?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth Clarius'<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" class="marker">2</a> harp want strings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That not a nymph now sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or droop they as disgrac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see their seats and bowers by chattering pies<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" class="marker">3</a> defac'd?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If hence<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" class="marker">4</a> thy silence be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As 'tis too just a cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let this thought quicken thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minds that are great and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should not on fortune pause;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis crown enough to virtue<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" class="marker">5</a> still, her own applause.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What though the greedy fry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Be taken with false baits<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>[<a href="./images/208.png">208</a>]</span><span class="i0">Of worded balladry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think it poesy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They die with their conceits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only piteous scorn upon their folly waits.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then take in hand thy lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Strike in thy proper strain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Japhet's line,<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" class="marker">6</a> aspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sol's chariot for new fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To give the world again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who aided him, will thee, the issue of Jove's brain.<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, since our dainty age<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cannot endure reproof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make not thyself a page<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that strumpet the stage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But sing high and aloof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe from the wolf's black jaw, and the dull ass's hoof.<a name="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" id="marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8"></a><a href="#Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" class="marker">8</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem is found in the collection of miscellaneous pieces, by Ben
+Jonson, entitled "Underwoods." The poet reproaches himself for his own
+indolence.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_1"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_1">1.</a> <b>Aonian springs.</b> The fountain Aganippe, situated in Aonia, was much
+frequented by the Muses, who were therefore sometimes called "Aonides."
+They were also called <i>Thespiades</i>, because Mount Helicon, one of their
+favored resorts, was in the vicinity of Thespia, and was itself named
+"Thespia rupes."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_2"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_2">2.</a> <b>Clarius.</b> The name applied to the celebrated oracle of Apollo at
+Clarus, on the Ionian coast.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_3"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_3">3.</a> <b>pies.</b> Magpies, "who make sound without sense."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_4"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_4">4.</a> <b>hence.</b> For this reason.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>[<a href="./images/209.png">209</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_5"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_5">5.</a> <b>virtue .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. her own applause.</b> Compare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue is her own reward."&mdash;<i>Dryden</i>, <i>Tyrannic Love</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue, a reward to itself."&mdash;<i>Walton</i>, <i>Compleat Angler</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Virtue is its own reward."&mdash;<i>Prior</i>, <i>Imitations of Horace</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_6"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_6">6.</a> <b>Japhet's line.</b> The line of Iapetus, the father of Prometheus, who
+stole fire from the chariot of the sun.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_7"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_7">7.</a> <b>issue of Jove's brain.</b> Athene, or Minerva.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8" id="Note_An_Ode_to_Himself_8"></a><a href="#marker_An_Ode_to_Himself_8">8.</a> "Safe from the slanderer and the fool."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO CYNTHIA.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now the sun is laid to sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seated in thy silver chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">State in wonted manner keep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hesperus entreats thy light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Earth, let not thy envious shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dare itself to interpose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cynthia's shining orb was made<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heaven to clear, when day did close;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bless us then with wished sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lay thy bow of pearl apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And thy crystal-shining quiver;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give unto the flying heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Space to breathe, how short soever;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou that mak'st a day of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>[<a href="./images/210.png">210</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER<br />
+WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE<br />
+HATH LEFT US.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_1" id="marker_To_the_Memory_1"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While I confess thy writings to be such,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For seeliest<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_2" id="marker_To_the_Memory_2"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_2" class="marker">2</a> ignorance on these may light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think to ruin where it seemed to praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou art proof against them and, indeed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My <span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> rise! I will not lodge thee by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little further, to make thee a room:<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_3" id="marker_To_the_Memory_3"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art a monument without a tomb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And art alive still while thy book doth live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we have wits to read, and praise to give.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I not mix thee so my brain excuses,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if I thought my judgment were of years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should commit thee surely with thy peers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell how far thou didst our Lyly<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_4" id="marker_To_the_Memory_4"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_4" class="marker">4</a> outshine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>[<a href="./images/211.png">211</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thence to honor thee I would not seek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For names, but call forth thund'ring &AElig;schylus,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_5" id="marker_To_the_Memory_5"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Euripides, and Sophocles to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pacuvius, Accius,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_6" id="marker_To_the_Memory_6"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_6" class="marker">6</a> him of Cordova dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To life again, to hear thy buskin tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shake a stage; or when thy socks<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_7" id="marker_To_the_Memory_7"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_7" class="marker">7</a> were on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leave thee alone for a comparison<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was not of an age, but for all time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Muses still were in their prime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nature herself was proud of his designs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neat Terence, witty Plautus,<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_8" id="marker_To_the_Memory_8"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_8" class="marker">8</a> now not please;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But antiquated and deserted lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they were not of Nature's family.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though the poet's matter nature be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His art doth give the fashion; and that he<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_9" id="marker_To_the_Memory_9"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who casts to write a living line, must sweat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the Muses' anvil, turn the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or for the laurel he may gain to scorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a good poet's made, as well as born.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>[<a href="./images/212.png">212</a>]</span><span class="i0">And such wert thou! Look, how the father's face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lives in his issue, even so the race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his well-turn&egrave;d and true fil&egrave;d lines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In each of which he seems to shake a lance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet Swan of Avon!<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_10" id="marker_To_the_Memory_10"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_10" class="marker">10</a> what a sight it were<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see thee in our waters yet appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That so did take Eliza and our James!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere<a name="marker_To_the_Memory_11" id="marker_To_the_Memory_11"></a><a href="#Note_To_the_Memory_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Advanced, and made a constellation there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And despairs day but for thy volume's light.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was prefixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, 1623,
+and is also printed in Ben Jonson's "Underwoods."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_1" id="Note_To_the_Memory_1"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_1">1.</a> The meaning of these two lines would seem to be: "To show that I am
+not envious, Shakespeare, of thy name, I thus write fully of thy works
+and fame."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_2" id="Note_To_the_Memory_2"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_2">2.</a> <b>seeliest.</b> Silliest, simplest. From A.-S. <i>saelig</i>, foolish. See note
+23, page <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_3" id="Note_To_the_Memory_3"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_3">3.</a> In allusion to W. Basse's elegy on Shakespeare, beginning:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Renown&egrave;d Spenser, lie a thought more nigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To learned Chaucer; and rare Beaumont, lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">A little nearer Spenser, to make room<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For Shakespear in your threefold, fourfold tomb."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_4" id="Note_To_the_Memory_4"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_4">4.</a> <b>Lyly, Kyd, Marlowe.</b> Contemporaries of Shakespeare. See Biographical
+Dictionary.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>[<a href="./images/213.png">213</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_To_the_Memory_5" id="Note_To_the_Memory_5"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_5">5.</a> <b>&AElig;schylus, Euripides, and Sophocles.</b> The founders of the Greek
+tragical drama.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_6" id="Note_To_the_Memory_6"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_6">6.</a> <b>Pacuvius, Accius.</b> Celebrated Roman tragic poets.</p>
+
+<p><b>him of Cordova.</b> Seneca, the great rhetorician, was born at Cordova, in
+Spain, <span class="smcap">b.c.</span> 61.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_7" id="Note_To_the_Memory_7"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_7">7.</a> <b>socks were on.</b> The socks indicated comedy, and the buskins tragedy.
+Compare Milton's "L'Allegro," 131:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then to the well-trod stage anon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">If Jonson's learned sock be on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Warble his native wood-note wild."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, "Il Penseroso," 97. See note on <i>buskin</i>, page <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_8" id="Note_To_the_Memory_8"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_8">8.</a> <b>Aristophanes, Terence, Plautus.</b> Ancient writers of comedy.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_9" id="Note_To_the_Memory_9"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_9">9.</a> <b>that he.</b> That man.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_10" id="Note_To_the_Memory_10"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_10">10.</a> <b>Swan of Avon.</b> So Cowper calls Virgil "the Mantuan swan."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_To_the_Memory_11" id="Note_To_the_Memory_11"></a><a href="#marker_To_the_Memory_11">11.</a> <b>hemisphere.</b> The celestial hemisphere.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span> was born in Westminster, in 1573. His early life was full of
+hard and varied experiences. He was educated at Westminster School, and
+entered St. John's College, Cambridge. Being obliged to leave his
+university course unfinished, he worked for a time with his step-father
+as a brick-layer. At the age of eighteen he enlisted as a volunteer in
+the Low Countries; but in 1596 he settled in London, as a playwright.
+His first comedy, "Every Man in his Humour," did not meet with immediate
+success. It was remodelled, at Shakespeare's suggestion, and when
+afterwards presented was received with marked favor. His first tragedy,
+"Sejanus," was acted in 1603. His masques, of which there are
+thirty-six, were written during the reign of James I. His miscellaneous
+works, embracing a variety of odes, elegies, epigrams, and other lyrics
+and epistles, are included in two collections, the first of which,
+called <i>The Forest</i>, was published in 1616, and the second posthumously,
+in 1641. He died in London, August 6, 1637.</p>
+
+<p>One of the last and most beautiful of Jonson's dramas is the unfinished
+pastoral comedy, "The Sad Shepherd." It was written while in the
+sick-chamber, with a keen sense and remembrance of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>[<a href="./images/214.png">214</a>]</span>the disappointments
+which had followed him through life; and to these he touchingly refers
+in the prologue:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He that hath feasted you these forty years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And fitted fables for your finer ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Although at first he scarce could hit the bore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yet you, with patience, hearkening more and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At length have grown up to him, and made known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The working of his pen is now your own:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He prays you would vouchsafe, for your own sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To hear him this once more, but sit awake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And though he now present you with such wool<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As from mere English flocks his muse can pull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">He hopes when it is made up into cloth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Not the most curious head here will be loth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To wear a hood of it, it being a fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To match or those of Sicily or Greece.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His scene is Sherwood, and his play a tale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Robin Hood's inviting from the vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Of Belvoir, all the shepherds to a feast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Where, by the casual absence of one guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">The mirth is troubled much, and in one man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">As much of sadness shown as passion can."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Robert Herrick wrote of him thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"Ah Ben!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Say how or when<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Shall we, thy guests,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Meet at those lyric feasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Made at the Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Dog, the Triple Tun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where we such clusters had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As made us nobly wild, not mad?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And yet each verse of thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"My Ben!<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or come again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Or send to us<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy wit's great overplus;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But teach us yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Wisely to husband it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lest we that talent spend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And having once brought to an end<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That precious stock,&mdash;the store<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such a wit the world should have no more."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>[<a href="./images/215.png">215</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Sixteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>In fifty-two years, without counting the drama, two hundred and
+thirty-three poets are enumerated, of whom forty have genius or
+talent.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. What is this condition which gives rise to so universal a
+taste for poetry? What is it breathes life into their books? How happens
+it, that amongst the least, in spite of pedantrie, awkwardnesses, we
+meet with brilliant pictures and genuine love-cries? How happens it,
+that when this generation was exhausted, true poetry ended in England,
+as true painting in Italy and Flanders? It was because an epoch of the
+mind came and passed away,&mdash;that, namely, of instinctive and creative
+conception. These men had new senses, and no theories in their heads.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+They are happy in contemplating beautiful things, and wish only that
+they should be the most beautiful possible. They do not excite
+themselves to express moral or philosophical ideas. They wish to enjoy
+through the imagination, through the eyes, like those Italian nobles,
+who, at the same time, were so captivated by fine colors and forms, that
+they covered with paintings not only their rooms and their churches, but
+the lids of their chests and the saddles of their horses.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Think what
+poetry was likely to spring from them, how superior to common events,
+how free from literal imitation, how smitten with ideal beauty, how
+capable of creating a world beyond our sad world.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>[<a href="./images/216.png">216</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Sixteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Thomas Wyatt</b> (1503-1542). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</b> (1517-1547). See biographical note, page
+<a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Gascoigne</b> (1536-1577). "The Steel Glass"; "The Tragedy of
+Iocaste."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst</b> (1536-1608). "The Induction to the
+Mirror for Magistrates"; "The Tragedy of Gorboduc."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Edmund Spenser</b> (1552-1598). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Philip Sidney</b> (1554-1586). "Astrophel and Stella"; sonnets and short
+poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Watson</b> (1557-1592). "The Hecatompathia or Passionate Century of
+Love"; "Melib&oelig;us"; "The Tears of Fancie."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Lyly</b> (1554-1606). Lyrical poems; "Alexander and Campaspe"; "Love's
+Metamorphosis."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Robert Greene</b> (1560-1592). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Christopher Marlowe</b> (1564-1593). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Thomas Lodge</b> (1556-1625). Dramas and lyrical poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Warner</b> (1550-1609). "Albion's England"; "Pan, his Syrinx or
+Pipe."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>William Shakespeare</b> (1564-1616). See note, page <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Samuel Daniel</b> (1562-1619). "History of the Civil Wars between the two
+Houses of York and Lancaster."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir Walter Raleigh</b> (1552-1618). Short poems.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>George Chapman</b> (1559-1634). Translations of "Homer's Iliad" and "Homer's
+Odyssey."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Michael Drayton</b> (1563-1631). "Polyolbion"; "The Barons' Wars"; "The
+Battle of Agincourt."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Joseph Hall</b> (1574-1656). "Virgidemiarum"; satires.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>Sir John Davies</b> (&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-1626). "Nosce Teipsum."</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><b>John Donne</b> (1573-1631). Short poems.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>[<a href="./images/217.png">217</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>William Shakespeare.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>VENUS'S ADVICE TO ADONIS ON HUNTING.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "VENUS AND ADONIS."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou hadst been gone," quoth she, "sweet boy, ere this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"On his bow-back he hath a battle set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And when he strikes his crooked tushes slay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a>[<a href="./images/218.png">218</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose full perfection all the world amazes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But having thee at vantage,&mdash;wondrous dread!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come not within his danger by thy will;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at the roe which no encounter dare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And on thy well-breathed horse keep with thy hounds.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How he outruns the wind and with what care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The many musets through the which he goes<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>[<a href="./images/219.png">219</a>]</span><span class="i0">"For there his smell with others being mingled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As if another chase were in the skies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hearken if his foes pursue him still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now his grief may be compared well<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turn, and return, indenting with the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For misery is trodden on by many,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And being low never relieved by any."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "CYMBELINE."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Phoebus 'gins arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On chaliced flowers that lies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To ope their golden eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With everything that pretty is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My lady sweet, arise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Arise, arise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a>[<a href="./images/220.png">220</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING."]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Men were deceivers ever,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One foot in sea and one on shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To one thing constant never:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of dumps so dull and heavy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fraud of men was ever so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since summer first was leafy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then sigh not so, but let them go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And be you blithe and bonny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Converting all your sounds of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Into Hey nonny, nonny.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.</h2>
+
+<h3>[SONNET XXXIII.]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Full many a glorious morning have I seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kissing with golden face the meadows green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon permit the basest clouds to ride<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With ugly rack on his celestial face,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>[<a href="./images/221.png">221</a>]</span><span class="i0">And from the forlorn world his visage hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even so my sun one early morn did shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE WORLD'S WAY.</h2>
+
+<h3>[SONNET LXVI.]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As, to behold desert a beggar born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And purest faith unhappily forsworn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And strength by limping sway disabled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And art made tongue-tied by authority,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And captive Good attending captain Ill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Shakespeare</span> was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and
+died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic
+compositions. His two narrative poems, "Venus <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>[<a href="./images/222.png">222</a>]</span>and Adonis" and "The Rape
+of Lucrece," were published in 1593 and 1594, before any of his plays
+had been printed. They may be regarded as companion pieces, written in
+the same style and distinguished by similar characteristics.</p>
+
+<p>"A couple of ice-houses," says Dowden, "these two poems of Shakespeare
+have been called by Hazlitt; 'they are,' he says, 'as hard, as
+glittering, as cold.' Cold indeed they will seem to any one who listens
+to hear in them the natural cry of human passion. But the paradox is
+true, that for a young poet of Elizabeth's age to be natural, direct,
+simple, would have been indeed unnatural. He was most happy when most
+fantastical; he spun a shining web to catch conceits inevitably as a
+spider casts his thread; the quick-building wit was itself warm while
+erecting its ice-houses." Coleridge says of the "Venus and Adonis" that
+its most obvious excellence "is the perfect sweetness of the
+versification; its adaptation to the subject; and the power displayed in
+varying the march of the words without passing into a loftier and more
+majestic rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the
+propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant."</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare's "Sonnets" were published in 1609. Concerning the origin,
+purpose, and interpretation of these poems, many widely different
+theories have been proposed, "Some have looked on them as one poem."
+says Fleay; "some as several poems&mdash;of groups of sonnets; some as
+containing a separate poem in each sonnet. They have been supposed to be
+written in Shakespeare's own person, or in the character of another, or
+of several others; to be autobiographical or heterobiographical or
+allegorical; to have been addressed to Lord Southampton, to Sir William
+Herbert, to his own wife, to Lady Rich, to his child, to himself, to his
+Muse." The safest and wisest course seems to be, first to regard each of
+the one hundred and fifty-four sonnets as a poem complete in itself, and
+after studying whatever it may contain of art, or beauty, or truth, then
+to discover, if possible, its relationship to those which precede or
+follow it in the series.</p>
+
+<p>Of the other poems written by Shakespeare, mention should be made of
+"The Passionate Pilgrim" (1559), "The Phoenix and the Turtle" (1601), "A
+Lover's Complaint," published in the same volume with the "Sonnets," and
+the few exquisite little songs scattered through his plays.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a>[<a href="./images/223.png">223</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Edmund Spenser.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE CAVE OF MAMMON.</h2>
+
+<div class="poemind2">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Guyon findes Mammon in a delve<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sunning his threasure hore<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" class="marker">2</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is by him tempted, and led downe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see his secrete store.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">As Pilot well expert in perilous wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to a stedfast starre<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" class="marker">3</a> his course hath bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When foggy mistes or cloudy tempests have<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The faithfull light of that faire lampe yblent,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cover'd heaven with hideous dreriment,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his card and compas firmes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" class="marker">6</a> his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maysters of his long experiment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to them does the steddy helme apply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bidding his winged vessell fairely forward fly:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late left beyond that Ydle lake, proceedes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet on his way, of none accompanyde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evermore himselfe with comfort feedes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his own vertues and praise-worthie deedes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, long he yode,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" class="marker">7</a> yet no adventure found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which fame of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" class="marker">8</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For still he traveild through wide wastfull ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That nought but desert wildernesse shewed all around.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>[<a href="./images/224.png">224</a>]</span><span class="i1">At last he came unto a gloomy glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heavens light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereas he sitting found in secret shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An uncouth, salvage,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" class="marker">9</a> and uncivile wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of griesly hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His head and beard with sout were ill bedight,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have been seard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In smythes fire-spitting<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" class="marker">11</a> forge, and nayles like clawes appear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was underneath enveloped with gold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well yet appeared to have beene of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A worke of rich entayle<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" class="marker">12</a> and curious mould,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woven with antickes<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" class="marker">13</a> and wyld ymagery;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turned upside downe, to feede his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And covetous desire with his huge threasury.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And round about him lay on every side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great heapes of gold that never could be spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which some were rude owre, not purifide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Mulcibers<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" class="marker">14</a> devouring element;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some others were new driven, and distent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into great Ingowes and to wedges square;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some in round plates withouten moniment<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" class="marker">15</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most were stampt, and in their metal bare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The antique shapes of kings and kesars straunge and rare.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And haste he rose for to remove aside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those pretious hils from straungers envious sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a>[<a href="./images/225.png">225</a>]</span><span class="i0">And downe them poured through an hole full wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the hollow earth, them there to hide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand that trembled as one terrifyde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though himselfe were at the sight dismayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him doubtfull sayd:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"What art thou, man, (if man at all thou art)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That here in desert hast thine habitaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these rich hils of welth doest hide apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the worldes eye, and from her right usaunce?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In great disdaine he answerd: "Hardy Elfe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That darest view my direfull countenaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To trouble my still seate, and heapes of pretious pelfe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"God of the world and worldlings I me call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great Mammon, greatest god below the skye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That of my plenty poure out unto all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And unto none my graces do envye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Riches, renowme, and principality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour, estate, and all this worldes good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For which men swinck<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" class="marker">16</a> and sweat incessantly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fro me do flow into an ample flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the hollow earth have their eternall brood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve and sew,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At thy commaund lo! all these mountaines bee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All these may not suffise, there shall to thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten times so much be nombred francke and free."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Mammon," (said he) "thy godheads vaunt is vaine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And idle offers of thy golden fee;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>[<a href="./images/226.png">226</a>]</span><span class="i0">To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts entertaine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Me ill besits,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" class="marker">18</a> that in derdoing, armes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And honours suit my vowd daies do spend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing charmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which weake men thou witchest, to attend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regard of worldly mucke<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" class="marker">19</a> doth fowly blend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And low abase the high heroicke spright,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" class="marker">20</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to contend:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes be my delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous knight."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Vaine glorious Elfe," (saide he) "doest not thou weet,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" class="marker">21</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That money can thy wantes at will supply?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things for thee meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It can purvay in twinckling of an eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crownes and kingdomes to thee multiply.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do not I kings create, and throw the crowne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And him that raignd into his rowme thrust downe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whom I lust do heape with glory and renowne?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"All otherwise" (saide he) "I riches read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First got with guile, and then preserv'd with dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after spent with pride and lavishnesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaving behind them griefe and heavinesse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That noble heart as great dishonour doth despize.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a>[<a href="./images/227.png">227</a>]</span><span class="i1">"Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But realmes and rulers thou doest both confound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loyall truth to treason doest incline:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft on ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crowned often slaine, the slayer cround;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sacred Diademe in peeces rent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And purple robe gored with many a wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and brent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So mak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrongfull government.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Long were to tell the troublous stormes that tosse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The private state, and make the life unsweet:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth crosse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Mammon wexing wroth: "And why then," sayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Are mortall men so fond<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" class="marker">22</a> and undiscreet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having not complaine, and having it upbrayd?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Indeede," (quoth he) "through fowle intemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But would they thinke with how small allowaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untroubled Nature doth herselfe suffise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such superfluities they would despise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which with sad cares empeach<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" class="marker">23</a> our native joyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the well-head the purest streames arise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mucky filth his braunching armes annoyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with uncomely weedes the gentle wave accloyes.<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"The antique world, in his first flowring youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fownd no defect in his Creators grace;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a>[<a href="./images/228.png">228</a>]</span><span class="i0">But with glad thankes, and unreproved truth,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" class="marker">25</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gifts of soveraine bounty did embrace:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Angels life was then mens happy cace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To all licentious lust, and gan exceed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The measure of her meane and naturall first need.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Then gan a cursed hand the quiet wombe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his great Grandmother<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" class="marker">26</a> with steele to wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which the matter of his huge desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pompous pride eftsoones he did compownd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then avarice gan through his veines inspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His greedy flames, and kindled life-devouring fire."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Sonne," (said he then) "lett be<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" class="marker">27</a> thy bitter scorne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave the rudenesse of that antique age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them that liv'd therein, in state forlorne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, that doest live in later times, must wage<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold engage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If then thee list my offred grace to use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take what thou please of all this surplusage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But refused doe not afterward accuse."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"Me list<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" class="marker">29</a> not" (said the Elfin knight) "receave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thing offred, till I know it well be gott;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne wote but thou didst these goods bereave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them blott."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a>[<a href="./images/229.png">229</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Perdy,"<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" class="marker">30</a> (quoth he) "yet never eie did vew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne tong did tell, ne hand these handled not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But safe I have them kept in secret mew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From hevens sight, and powre of al which them poursew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">"What secret place" (quoth he) "can safely hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So huge a masse, and hide from heaven's eie?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or where hast thou thy wonne,<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" class="marker">31</a> that so much gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come thou," (quoth he) "and see." So by and by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through that thick covert he him led, and fownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A darkesome way, which no man could descry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That deep descended through the hollow grownd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And was with dread and horror compassed arownd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">At length they came into a larger space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stretcht itselfe into an ample playne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through which a beaten broad high way did trace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly rayne.<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" class="marker">32</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By that wayes side there sate internall Payne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one in hand an yron whip did strayne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other brandished a bloody knife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threten life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">On thother side in one consort there sate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But gnawing Gealousy, out of their sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found no place wher safe he shroud him might:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Shame his ugly face did hide from living eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>[<a href="./images/230.png">230</a>]</span><span class="i1">And over them sad Horror with grim hew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after him Owles and Night-ravens flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hatefull messengers of heavy things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of death and dolor telling sad tidings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hart of flint asonder could have rifte;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which having ended after him she flyeth swifte.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">All these before the gates of Pluto lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By whom they passing spake unto them nought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner thought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At last him to a little dore he brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to the gate of Hell, which gaped wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was next adjoyning, ne them parted ought:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt them both was but a little stride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That did the house of Richesse from hell-mouth divide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Before the dore sat selfe-consuming Care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Day and night keeping wary watch and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For feare least Force or Fraud should unaware<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breake in, and spoile the treasure there in gard:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither-ward<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Approch, albe his drowsy den were next;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For next to Death is Sleepe to be compard;<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore his house is unto his annext:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate them both betwext.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the dore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To him did open and affoorded way:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>[<a href="./images/231.png">231</a>]</span><span class="i0">Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne darknesse him, ne daunger might dismay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soone as he entred was, the dore streight way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did shutt, and from behind it forth there lept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which with monstrous stalke behind him stept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever as he went dew watch upon him kept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lips he layd on thing that likte him best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should be his pray. And therefore still on hye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He over him did hold his cruell clawes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him dye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rend in peeces with his ravenous pawes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If ever he transgrest the fatal Stygian lawes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">That houses forme within was rude and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From whose rough vaut the ragged breaches hong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embossed with massy gold of glorious guifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with rich metall loaded every rifte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And over them Arachne high did lifte<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black than Jett.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were all of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But overgrowne with dust and old decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hid in darkenes, that none could behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>[<a href="./images/232.png">232</a>]</span><span class="i0">Did never in that house it selfe display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But a faint shadow of uncertain light:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does show to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">In all that rowme was nothing to be seene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But huge great yron chests, and coffers strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All bard with double bends, that none could weene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them to efforce by violence or wrong:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On every side they placed were along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all the grownd with sculs was scattered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dead mens bones, which round about were flong;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose lives, it seemed, whilome<a name="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" id="marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34"></a><a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" class="marker">34</a> there were shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their vile carcases now left unburied.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This is a selection from Spenser's great poem, "The Faerie Queene,"
+being a part of the seventh canto of book second. "The Faerie Queene"
+was published in 1590, and comprises six books of twelve cantos each.
+The first book is the Legend of the Red Cross Knight, or Holiness; the
+second, of Sir Guyon, or Temperance; the third, of Britomartis, or
+Chastity; the fourth, of Cambel and Triamond, or Friendship; the fifth,
+of Artegall, or Justice; the sixth, of Sir Calidore, or Courtesy. It was
+Spenser's design that the complete work should contain twelve books, but
+of the remaining part only a fragment of one book, the "Legend of
+Constance," is in existence.</p>
+
+<p>The versification of the "Faerie Queene" is based upon the <i>ottava
+rima</i>, made so popular in Italian poetry by Tasso and Ariosto. Instead
+of eight lines to a stanza, however, there are nine. The first eight
+lines are iambic pentameters, and the ninth a hexameter, the stanza thus
+closing with a lingering cadence which adds greatly to the melody of the
+verse. This is the "Spenserian stanza," a form of versification very
+popular with many of our later poets.</p>
+
+<p>"If you love poetry well enough to enjoy it for its own sake," says
+Leigh Hunt, "let no evil reports of his <i>allegory</i> deter you from an
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>[<a href="./images/233.png">233</a>]</span>acquaintance with Spenser, for great will be your loss. His allegory
+itself is but one part allegory and nine parts beauty and enjoyment;
+sometimes an excess of flesh and blood. His wholesale poetical belief,
+mixing up all creeds and mythologies, but with less violence, resembles
+that of Dante and Boccaccio. His versification is almost perpetual
+honey."</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_1">1.</a> <b>delve.</b> Dell. From A.-S. <i>delfan</i>, delve, to dig. Each canto of the
+"Faerie Queene" is introduced by a four-line doggerel like this,
+containing the argument, or a brief summary of the narrative,&mdash;in
+imitation, probably, of Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_2">2.</a> <b>hore.</b> Sordid, miserly. Probably from A.-S. <i>harian</i>, to become mouldy
+or musty. The word <i>hoard</i> may be traced to a similar root.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_3">3.</a> <b>stedfast starre.</b> The pole-star. See "Faerie Queene," I, ii, 1:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By this the northerne wagoner had set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">That was in ocean waves yet never wet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_4">4.</a> <b>yblent.</b> Blinded.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_5">5.</a> <b>dreriment.</b> Darkness.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_6">6.</a> <b>firmes.</b> Fixes, makes firm.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_7">7.</a> <b>yode.</b> Went. The past participle of the old verb <i>yede</i>, from A.-S.
+<i>gangead</i>, to go, to proceed.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_8">8.</a> <b>reedes.</b> Considers. From A.-S. <i>r&aelig;d</i>, counsel, advice; O. E. <i>rede</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_9">9.</a> <b>salvage.</b> Savage, wild. Fr. <i>sauvage</i>. From Lat. <i>silva</i>, forest. See
+"Faerie Queene," IV, v, 19:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For all his armour was like salvage weed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With woody mosse bedight, and all his steed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">For salvage wight, and thereto well agreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">His word, which on his ragged shield was writ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i"><i>Salvagesse sans finesse</i>,<a name="FNanchor_233:1_6" id="FNanchor_233:1_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_233:1_6" class="fnanchor">[233:1]</a> shewing secret wit."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>wight.</b> Person. From A.-S. <i>wiht</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For every wight that loved chevalrie."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Chaucer</i>, <i>Canterbury Tales</i>, 2105.</p>
+
+<p><b>griesly.</b> Dreadful. From A.-S. <i>grislic</i>; <i>agrisan</i>, to dread. Grisly.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_10">10.</a> <b>bedight.</b> Covered. From <i>dight</i>, to dress, to deck. A.-S. <i>dihtan</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_11">11.</a> <b>fire-spitting.</b> "<i>Spett</i> seems anciently to have more simply
+signified <i>disperse</i>, without the low idea which we at present affix to
+it."&mdash;<i>Warton.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_12">12.</a> <b>entayle.</b> Sculpture, carving. Compare <i>intaglio</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>[<a href="./images/234.png">234</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_13">13.</a> <b>antickes.</b> Odd, or fantastic, forms. From Lat, <i>antiquus</i>, ancient.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_14">14.</a> <b>of Mulcibers devouring element.</b> By fire. Mulciber is a surname of
+Vulcan, "which seems to have been given him as an euphemism, that he
+might not consume the habitations and property of men, but kindly aid
+them in their pursuits."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_15">15.</a> <b>withouten moniment.</b> Without superscription.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_16">16.</a> <b>swinck.</b> Labor, drudge. A.-S. <i>swincan</i>, to toil.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_17">17.</a> <b>sew.</b> Follow. From Fr. <i>suivre</i>.</p>
+
+<p><b>deigne.</b> From Fr. <i>daigner</i>, to consider worthy. Opposed to <i>disdain</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_18">18.</a> <b>Me ill besits.</b> It ill becomes me.</p>
+
+<p><b>derdoing.</b> Dare-doing; doing daring deeds.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_19">19.</a> <b>worldly mucke.</b> "Filthy lucre."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_20">20.</a> <b>spright.</b> Spirit.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21">21.</a> <b>weet.</b> Understand. From A.-S. <i>witan</i>, to know.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_22">22.</a> <b>fond.</b> Foolish.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_23">23.</a> <b>empeach.</b> Hinder. Fr. <i>emp&ecirc;cher</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_24">24.</a> <b>accloyes.</b> Chokes or clogs up. Observe how the poet carries out his
+metaphor of the "well-head," "the purest streames," "his braunching
+armes," and "the gentle wave."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_25">25.</a> <b>unreproved truth.</b> Sincerity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_26">26.</a> <b>great Grandmother.</b> Mother Earth.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_27">27.</a> <b>lett be.</b> Leave off; make an end of.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_28">28.</a> <b>wage.</b> Pledge. Observe the relationship between this word and both
+<i>wager</i> and <i>wages</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_29">29.</a> <b>Me list.</b> I wish. Compare <i>methinks</i>, <i>meseems</i>. From A.-S. <i>lystan</i>,
+to choose.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The wind bloweth where it listeth."&mdash;<i>John</i> iii. 8.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><b>wote.</b> Understood. See note <a href="#Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_21">21</a> above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_30">30.</a> <b>Perdy.</b> An old oath used to give emphasis to an assertion. From Fr.
+<i>par dieu</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_31">31.</a> <b>wonne.</b> Habitation. From A.-S. <i>wunian</i>, to dwell.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_32">32.</a> <b>rayne.</b> Reign. The word is frequently used in the older poets for
+<i>realm</i>, or <i>region</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_33">33.</a> <b>next to Death is Sleepe.</b></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How wonderful is Death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Death and his brother Sleep!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shelley</i>, <i>Queen Mab</i>, I.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34" id="Note_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34"></a><a href="#marker_The_Cave_of_Mammon_34">34.</a> <b>whilome.</b> At some time.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 90%;" />
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_233:1_6" id="Footnote_233:1_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_233:1_6"><span class="label">[233:1]</span></a> Wildness without art.</p></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>[<a href="./images/235.png">235</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>PROTHALAMION; <span class="smcap">or</span>, A SPOUSALL VERSE.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">In honour of the double marriage of the two honorable and vertuous
+ladies, the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Katherine Somerset, daughters to
+the right honorable the Earle of Worcester, and espoused to the two
+worthie gentlemen, M. Henry Gilford and M. William Peter, Esquyers.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hot Titans<a name="marker_Prothalamion_1" id="marker_Prothalamion_1"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_1" class="marker">1</a> beames, which then did glyster fayre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I, (whom sullein care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In princes court,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_2" id="marker_Prothalamion_2"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_2" class="marker">2</a> and expectation vayne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walkt forth to ease my payne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes<a name="marker_Prothalamion_3" id="marker_Prothalamion_3"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_3" class="marker">3</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose rutty<a name="marker_Prothalamion_4" id="marker_Prothalamion_4"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_4" class="marker">4</a> bank, the which his river hemmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was paynted all with variable flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the meades adorned with dainty gemmes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit to decke maydens bowres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crown their paramours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against<a name="marker_Prothalamion_5" id="marker_Prothalamion_5"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_5" class="marker">5</a> the brydale-day, which is not long;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There, in a meadow, by the rivers side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All lovely daughters of the Flood<a name="marker_Prothalamion_6" id="marker_Prothalamion_6"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_6" class="marker">6</a> thereby,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_7" id="marker_Prothalamion_7"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_7" class="marker">7</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As each had been a bryde;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>[<a href="./images/236.png">236</a>]</span><span class="i0">And each one had a little wicker basket,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made of fine twigs, entrayled<a name="marker_Prothalamion_8" id="marker_Prothalamion_8"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_8" class="marker">8</a> curiously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_9" id="marker_Prothalamion_9"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with fine fingers cropt<a name="marker_Prothalamion_10" id="marker_Prothalamion_10"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_10" class="marker">10</a> full feateously<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tender stalkes on hye.<a name="marker_Prothalamion_11" id="marker_Prothalamion_11"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every sort which in that meadow grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They gathered some; the violet, pallid<a name="marker_Prothalamion_12" id="marker_Prothalamion_12"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_12" class="marker">12</a> blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The little dazie that at evening closes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The virgin lillie, and the primrose trew,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_13" id="marker_Prothalamion_13"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With store<a name="marker_Prothalamion_14" id="marker_Prothalamion_14"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_14" class="marker">14</a> of vermeil roses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To deck their bridegroomes posies<a name="marker_Prothalamion_15" id="marker_Prothalamion_15"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_15" class="marker">15</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the brydale-day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With that<a name="marker_Prothalamion_16" id="marker_Prothalamion_16"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_16" class="marker">16</a> I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come softly swimming downe along the lee<a name="marker_Prothalamion_17" id="marker_Prothalamion_17"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_17" class="marker">17</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two fairer birds I yet did never see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did never whiter shew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love of Leda, whiter did appeare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near<a name="marker_Prothalamion_18" id="marker_Prothalamion_18"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_18" class="marker">18</a>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So purely white they were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wet their silken feathers, least they might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marre their beauties bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shone as heavens light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>[<a href="./images/237.png">237</a>]</span><span class="i0">Eftsoones<a name="marker_Prothalamion_19" id="marker_Prothalamion_19"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_19" class="marker">19</a> the Nymphes, which now had flowers their fill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they came floating on the cristal flood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed, still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their wondring eyes to fill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which through the skie draw Venus silver teeme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sure they did not seeme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be begot of any earthly seede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But rather angels, or of angels breede;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet were they bred of Somers-heat,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_20" id="marker_Prothalamion_20"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_20" class="marker">20</a> they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sweetest season, when each flower and weede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth did fresh array;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fresh they seem'd as day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even as their brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forth they all out of their baskets drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All which upon those goodly birds they threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the waves did strew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That like old Peneus<a name="marker_Prothalamion_21" id="marker_Prothalamion_21"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_21" class="marker">21</a> waters they did seeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they appeare, through lillies plenteous store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a brydes chambre flore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two garlands bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of freshest flowres which in that mead they found,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>[<a href="./images/238.png">238</a>]</span><span class="i0">The which presenting all in trim array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their snowie foreheads therewithall they crownd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whilst one did sing this lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prepar'd against that day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ioy may you have, and gentle hearts content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Of your loves couplement;<a name="marker_Prothalamion_22" id="marker_Prothalamion_22"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_22" class="marker">22</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"With her heart-quelling Sonne<a name="marker_Prothalamion_23" id="marker_Prothalamion_23"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_23" class="marker">23</a> upon you smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"All loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forever to assoile.<a name="marker_Prothalamion_24" id="marker_Prothalamion_24"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_24" class="marker">24</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts accord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And blessed plentie wait upon your bord<a name="marker_Prothalamion_25" id="marker_Prothalamion_25"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_25" class="marker">25</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"That fruitfull issue may to you afford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Which may your foes confound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And make your ioyes redound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Upon your brydale day, which is not long."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So ended she; and all the rest around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her redoubled<a name="marker_Prothalamion_26" id="marker_Prothalamion_26"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_26" class="marker">26</a> that her undersong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which said, their brydale day should not be long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle Eccho from the neighbour<a name="marker_Prothalamion_27" id="marker_Prothalamion_27"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_27" class="marker">27</a> ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their accents did resound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde low,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a>[<a href="./images/239.png">239</a>]</span><span class="i0">As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet did by signes his glad affection show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making his streame run slow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the foule which in his flood did dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend<a name="marker_Prothalamion_28" id="marker_Prothalamion_28"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did on those two attend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And their best service lend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their wedding day, which was not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length they all to mery London came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mery London, my most kyndly nurse,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_29" id="marker_Prothalamion_29"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_29" class="marker">29</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to me gave this lifes first native sourse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though from another place I take my name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An house of auncient fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There when they came, whereas those bricky towres<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which on Themmes brode aged backe doe ryde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_30" id="marker_Prothalamion_30"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_30" class="marker">30</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they decayd through pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next whereunto there standes a stately place,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_31" id="marker_Prothalamion_31"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose want too well now feels my freendles case;<a name="marker_Prothalamion_32" id="marker_Prothalamion_32"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_32" class="marker">32</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! here fits not well<a name="marker_Prothalamion_33" id="marker_Prothalamion_33"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_33" class="marker">33</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old woes, but ioyes, to tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the brydale daye, which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet therein now doth lodge a nobler peer,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_34" id="marker_Prothalamion_34"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great Englands glory, and the worlds wide wonder,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>[<a href="./images/240.png">240</a>]</span><span class="i0">Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine<a name="marker_Prothalamion_35" id="marker_Prothalamion_35"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_35" class="marker">35</a> did thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hercules two Pillors<a name="marker_Prothalamion_36" id="marker_Prothalamion_36"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_36" class="marker">36</a> standing neere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did make to quake and feare:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fillest England with thy triumphs fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ioy have thou of thy noble victorie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That promiseth the same;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And great Elisaes glorious name may ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarmes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which some brave muse may sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ages following,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the brydale day which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From those high towers this noble lord issuing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like radiant Hesper,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_37" id="marker_Prothalamion_37"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_37" class="marker">37</a> when his golden hare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Descended to the rivers open vewing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a great train ensuing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the rest were goodly to bee seene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beseeming well the bower of any queene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fit for so goodly stature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That like the Twins of Iove<a name="marker_Prothalamion_38" id="marker_Prothalamion_38"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_38" class="marker">38</a> they seem'd in sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which decke the bauldricke<a name="marker_Prothalamion_39" id="marker_Prothalamion_39"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_39" class="marker">39</a> of the heavens bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They two forth pacing to the rivers side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receiv'd those two faire Brides, their loves delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>[<a href="./images/241.png">241</a>]</span><span class="i0">Which,<a name="marker_Prothalamion_40" id="marker_Prothalamion_40"></a><a href="#Note_Prothalamion_40" class="marker">40</a> at th' appointed tyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each one did make his Bryde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against their brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>This poem was written and published towards the end of the year 1595.
+The word <i>prothalamium</i> is from Gr. <i>pro</i>, for, and <i>thalamos</i>, a
+bride-chamber, and would more properly be applied to a marriage-song
+than to "a spousall verse." Spenser had already written&mdash;earlier in the
+same year&mdash;the "Epithalamium" in honor of his own marriage. The singing
+of a hymeneal song in connection with the wedding festivities was a very
+ancient custom among the Greeks. Homer alludes to it in the "Iliad,"
+XVIII, 493:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And two fair populous towns were sculptur'd there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">In one were marriage pomp and revelry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And brides, in gay procession, through the streets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With blazing torches from their chambers borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">While frequent rose the hymeneal song."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I, xii, 38.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Prothalamion_1" id="Note_Prothalamion_1"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_1">1.</a> <b>Titans.</b> The word is used for Helios, the son of the Titans, Hyperion
+and Thea. Observe that the apostrophe, as the sign of the possessive
+case, is never used by Spenser.</p>
+
+<p><b>glyster.</b> Glisten, shine. From A.-S. <i>glisnian</i>, glow, or shine with a
+soft light.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"All that glisters is not gold."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act ii, sc. vii.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Know one false step is ne'er retrieved .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Nor all that glisters gold."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Gray</i>, <i>On a Favourite Cat, etc.</i></p>
+
+<p><b>fayre.</b> Fairly. An old form of the adverb, sanctioned by very old usage,
+but not current in Spenser's time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_2" id="Note_Prothalamion_2"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_2">2.</a> <b>princes court.</b> Spenser had had experience of the many bitter
+disappointments which befall him who seeks the favor of royalty. In
+"Mother Hubbard's Tale" he complains in this wise:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">What hell it is in suing long to bide:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To lose good dayes that might be better spent;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a>[<a href="./images/242.png">242</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0i">To wast long nights in pensive discontent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To speed today, to be put back tomorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To have thy Princes grace, yet want her Peeres;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To have thy asking, yet waite manie yeeres;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_3" id="Note_Prothalamion_3"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_3">3.</a> <b>silver streaming Themmes.</b> Sir John Denham's apostrophe to the Thames
+is well known:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">My great example, as it is my theme!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Strong without rage; without overflowing full."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Cooper's Hill</i>, 189.</p>
+
+<p>And Pope praises the stream in still more extravagant terms:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Windsor Forest</i>, 227.</p>
+
+<p>See, also, Spenser's "Faerie Queene," IV, xi.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_4" id="Note_Prothalamion_4"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_4">4.</a> <b>rutty.</b> Rooty.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_5" id="Note_Prothalamion_5"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_5">5.</a> <b>Against.</b> For, or in preparation for; to provide for. Compare Genesis
+xliii. 25: "And they made ready the present against Joseph came at
+noon." And Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act iii, sc. ii:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_6" id="Note_Prothalamion_6"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_6">6.</a> <b>Flood.</b> This word was often used, as here, to denote simply a river.
+Pope addresses the river Thames:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou, too, great father of the British floods!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_7" id="Note_Prothalamion_7"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_7">7.</a> <b>all loose untyde.</b> Steevens says: "Brides formerly walked to church
+with their hair hanging loose behind."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_8" id="Note_Prothalamion_8"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_8">8.</a> <b>entrayled.</b> Twisted, interlaced.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_9" id="Note_Prothalamion_9"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_9">9.</a> <b>flasket.</b> A long, shallow basket. Not used here as the diminutive of
+<i>flask</i>. Hales says it is the name given by the fishermen of Cornwall to
+the vessel in which the fish are transferred from the seine to the
+"tuck-net."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_10" id="Note_Prothalamion_10"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_10">10.</a> <b>cropt.</b> Gathered, Dutch <i>krappen</i>, to cut off.</p>
+
+<p><b>feateously.</b> Neatly, skilfully. Compare Chaucer:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And French she spake ful fayre and fetisly."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Canterbury Tales</i>, 124.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A chambre had he in that hostelrie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>, 3205.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>[<a href="./images/243.png">243</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Prothalamion_11" id="Note_Prothalamion_11"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_11">11.</a> <b>on hye.</b> In haste. Probably the same as <i>hie</i>, haste.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_12" id="Note_Prothalamion_12"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_12">12.</a> <b>pallid.</b> Pale.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_13" id="Note_Prothalamion_13"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_13">13.</a> <b>primrose trew.</b> Compare Milton's "Lycidas," 142:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The rathe primrose that forsaken dies."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale," Act iv, sc. iii;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Pale primroses that die unmarried."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_14" id="Note_Prothalamion_14"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_14">14.</a> <b>store.</b> Abundance.</p>
+
+<p><b>vermeil.</b> Vermilion. Commonly used as a noun.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_15" id="Note_Prothalamion_15"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_15">15.</a> <b>posies.</b> "Posy originally meant verses presented with a nosegay or a
+bunch of flowers, and hence the term came to be applied to the flowers
+themselves."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_16" id="Note_Prothalamion_16"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_16">16.</a> <b>With that.</b> At the same time.</p>
+
+<p><b>Swannes.</b> "Paulus Jovius, who died in 1552, describing the Thames, says:
+'This river abounds in swans, swimming in flocks; the sight of whom and
+their noise are vastly agreeable to the fleets that meet them in their
+course.'"&mdash;<i>Knight's Cyclopedia of London.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_17" id="Note_Prothalamion_17"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_17">17.</a> <b>lee.</b> Water, or river. See "Faerie Queene," V, ii, 19:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"His corps was carried downe along the lee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Whose waters with his filthy bloud it stayned."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, <i>Ibid.</i>, IV, ii, 16:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As when two warlike brigandines at sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Do meete together on the watry lea."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The word is of Celtic origin, and is very common as a river-name in
+England, Ireland, France, and other parts of Western Europe.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_18" id="Note_Prothalamion_18"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_18">18.</a> <b>nor nothing near.</b> In early English two negatives did not destroy
+each other, as now, but made the negation more emphatic.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_19" id="Note_Prothalamion_19"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_19">19.</a> <b>Eftsoones.</b> Soon after. From A.-S. <i>eft</i>, after, and <i>sona</i>, soon.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_20" id="Note_Prothalamion_20"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_20">20.</a> <b>Somers-heat.</b> The two ladies celebrated in this poem, it will be
+remembered, were Lady Elizabeth and Lady Katherine Somerset.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_21" id="Note_Prothalamion_21"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_21">21.</a> The Peneus river, the most important stream in Thessaly, forces its
+way through the Vale of Tempe, between Mounts Ossa and Olympus, into the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_22" id="Note_Prothalamion_22"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_22">22.</a> <b>loves couplement.</b> Marriage.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_23" id="Note_Prothalamion_23"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_23">23.</a> <b>heart-quelling Sonne.</b> Cupid.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_24" id="Note_Prothalamion_24"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_24">24.</a> <b>assoile.</b> Free from, put off.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Through long watch, and late daies weary toile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts did quite assoile."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>Faerie Queene</i>, III, i, 58.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>[<a href="./images/244.png">244</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_Prothalamion_25" id="Note_Prothalamion_25"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_25">25.</a> <b>bord.</b> "Bed" and "board" are two associated terms, very frequently
+so used, which imply the performance of the two acts necessary for the
+maintenance of life&mdash;sleeping and eating. See Shakespeare's "Comedy of
+Errors," Act v, sc. i:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"In bed he slept not for my urging it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">At board he fed not for my urging it."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Also, "As You Like It," Act v, sc. iv:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Wedding is great Juno's crown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">O blessed bond of board and bed!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_26" id="Note_Prothalamion_26"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_26">26.</a> <b>redoubled.</b> Repeated.</p>
+
+<p><b>undersong.</b> Refrain, burden.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_27" id="Note_Prothalamion_27"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_27">27.</a> <b>neighbour.</b> See note <a href="#Note_The_Cotters_Saturday_Night_11">10</a>, on Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_28" id="Note_Prothalamion_28"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_28">28.</a> <b>shend.</b> Outshine, shame, disgrace. From A.-S. <i>scendan</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_29" id="Note_Prothalamion_29"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_29">29.</a> <b>my most kyndly nurse.</b> Although born in London, the poet was
+"descended from the ancient and honourable family of Spencer, of
+Althorpe in Northamptonshire."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_30" id="Note_Prothalamion_30"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_30">30.</a> "When the order of the Knights Templar was suppressed in Edward the
+Second's reign, their London estate on the bank of the Thames was given
+over to the Knights of St. John; by these it was leased to the students
+of the Common Law, who, not finding a home at Cambridge or Oxford, were
+at that time in want of a habitation."&mdash;<i>Hales.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_31" id="Note_Prothalamion_31"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_31">31.</a> <b>stately place.</b> This stood in the gardens where the Outer Temple
+should have been. In 1580 it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, and
+here Spenser was for a time entertained, as he asserts in the following
+line. The great lord whom he mentions was Leicester.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_32" id="Note_Prothalamion_32"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_32">32.</a> "The want of whom I feel too well in my present friendless
+condition."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_33" id="Note_Prothalamion_33"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_33">33.</a> <b>fits not well.</b> It is not proper.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_34" id="Note_Prothalamion_34"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_34">34.</a> <b>nobler peer.</b> The Earl of Essex.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_35" id="Note_Prothalamion_35"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_35">35.</a> Macaulay says of Lord Essex's expedition against Spain, in 1596,
+that it was "the most brilliant military exploit that was achieved on
+the Continent by English arms during the long interval which elapsed
+between the battle of Agincourt and that of Blenheim."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_36" id="Note_Prothalamion_36"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_36">36.</a> <b>Hercules two Pillors.</b> The rocky capes on either side of the Strait
+of Gibraltar. It was said that Hercules erected them to mark the western
+limit of his wanderings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_37" id="Note_Prothalamion_37"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_37">37.</a> <b>Hesper.</b> Hesperus was the evening star, also sometimes regarded as
+the morning star, and hence called by Homer the bringer of light. See
+note on Lucifer, page <a href="#Page_80">80</a> and page <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_38" id="Note_Prothalamion_38"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_38">38.</a> <b>Twins of Iove.</b> Castor and Pollux. Two heroic brothers who as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>[<a href="./images/245.png">245</a>]</span>a
+reward of their devotion to each other were placed among the stars in
+the constellation Gemini.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_39" id="Note_Prothalamion_39"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_39">39.</a> <b>bauldricke.</b> Belt, girdle, or sash. The "bauldricke of the heavens"
+is the zodiac.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Prothalamion_40" id="Note_Prothalamion_40"></a><a href="#marker_Prothalamion_40">40.</a> <b>Which.</b> In early English this pronoun was very commonly used instead
+of <i>who</i> when referring to persons.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Edmund Spenser</span> was born in London about the year 1552. He was educated
+at Merchant Taylor's school, and in 1569 went to Cambridge University,
+where he entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar. In the same year his first
+poetical performances&mdash;translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay&mdash;were
+published in a miscellaneous collection without the name of the author.
+At the University he was zealously devoted to the study of Latin and
+Greek literature, and there he made the acquaintance of several students
+who afterwards became men of note. In 1579 he visited Sir Philip Sidney
+at Penshurst, with whom he afterwards spent some time in London at the
+house of Sidney's uncle, the Earl of Leicester. In 1580 was published,
+but without his name, his first considerable poem, "The Shepheards
+Calendar"; and in the autumn of the same year he went to Ireland as
+secretary to Lord Grey of Wilton, the new Lord Lieutenant. With the
+exception of a few brief visits made to England, the remainder of his
+life was spent partly in Dublin and partly at Kilcolman Castle on a
+grant of forfeited land in the county of Cork. Between 1580 and 1589 he
+wrote the first three books of "The Faerie Queene," and in 1590 they
+were published in London, through the influence of Sir Walter Raleigh,
+who had recently visited the poet in Ireland. In the summer of 1594 he
+married a lady named Elizabeth, probably the daughter of some English
+settler in Ireland; and in the following year he carried to London and
+published the second three books of "The Faerie Queene." At about the
+same time were published his "Colin Clout's Come Home Again," and his
+"Amoretti Sonnets," and an "Epithalamium" relating to his courtship and
+marriage. Returning to Ireland, he resumed his labor upon the
+half-completed "Faerie Queene," but it was rudely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>[<a href="./images/246.png">246</a>]</span>interrupted by the
+breaking out of an insurrection among the Irish. In 1598 Spenser's house
+was sacked and burned by the rebels, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that he and his family escaped with their lives. Indeed, it
+is stated, on the authority of Ben Jonson, that one little child
+perished in the flames. Spenser returned to London in poverty and great
+distress, and on the 16th of January, 1599, he died in King Street,
+Westminster. He was buried in the Abbey.</p>
+
+<p>Spenser has been very appropriately named "the poets' poet." "For," says
+Leigh Hunt, "he has had more idolatry and imitation from his brethren
+than all the rest put together. The old undramatic poets, Drayton,
+Browne, Drummond, and Giles and Phineas Fletcher, were as full of him as
+the dramatic were of Shakespeare. Milton studied and used him, calling
+him 'sage and serious Spenser'; and adding that he 'dared be known to
+think him a better teacher than Scotus and Aquinas.' Cowley said he
+became a poet by reading him. Dryden claimed him for a master. Pope said
+he read him with as much pleasure when he was old as when he was young.
+Collins and Gray loved him. Thomson, Shenstone, and a host of inferior
+writers expressly imitated him. Burns, Byron, Shelley, and Keats made
+use of his stanza. Coleridge eulogized him."</p>
+
+<p>Hazlitt says, "Of all the poets, Spenser is the most poetical." And
+Taine declares that no modern is more like Homer than he.</p>
+
+<p>With reference to the peculiar forms of language&mdash;comparatively obsolete
+even when "The Faerie Queene" was composed&mdash;which are so marked a
+characteristic of Spenser's poetry, Hales says: "The subject he chose
+for his great work drew him into the midst of the old times of chivalry,
+and the literature that belonged to them. With such a subject the older
+forms of the language seemed to consort better. To him, too, perhaps, as
+to Virgil, the older words and word-forms seemed to give elevation and
+dignity. Moreover, an older dialect was probably to some extent his
+vernacular, as he had probably passed his youth in Lancashire. Lastly,
+the only great poet who had preceded him, his great model, the Tityrus
+of whom he 'his songs did lere,' was Chaucer. To him Chaucer's language
+may have seemed the one language of English poetry."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Warton's <i>History of English Poetry</i>; Hazlitt's <i>Lectures on
+the English Poets</i>; Craik's <i>Spenser and his Poetry</i>; Morley's <i>English
+Writers</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>[<a href="./images/247.png">247</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Thomas Wyatt.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A LOVE SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">The Lover complaineth of the Unkindness of his Love.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My lute, awake! perform the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Labor that thou and I shall waste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And end that I have now begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when this song is sung and past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lute! be still, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As to be heard where ear is none;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As lead to grave in marble stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My song may pierce her heart as soon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, no, my lute! for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The rock doth not so cruelly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repulse the waves continually,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she my suit and affection:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that I am past remedy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereby my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proud of the spoil that thou hast got<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think not he hath his bow forgot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>[<a href="./images/248.png">248</a>]</span><span class="i0">Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That makest but game of earnest pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trow not alone under the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although my lute and I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May chance thee lie withered and old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In winter nights, that are so cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plaining in vain unto the moon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy wishes then dare not be told:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Care then who list, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And then may chance thee to repent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The time that thou hast lost and spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wish and want, as I have done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now cease, my lute! This is the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Labor that thou and I shall waste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ended is that we begun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now is thy song both sung and past;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lute, be still, for I have done.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE COURTIER'S LIFE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In court to serve, decked with fresh array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sugared meats feeling the sweet repast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The life in banquets and sundry kinds of play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the press of worldly looks to waste:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath with it joined oft times such bitter taste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That whoso joyes such kind of life to hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In prison joyes, fettered with chains of gold.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>[<a href="./images/249.png">249</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Earl of Surrey.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF VIRGIL'S "&AElig;NEID."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;At the threshold of her chamber door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trampling steed, with gold and purple trapped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chewing the foaming bit there fiercely stood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then issued she, awaited with great train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroidered rich.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buttoned with gold. The Trojans of her train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&AElig;neas eke, the goodliest of the rout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes one of them, and joineth close the throng.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wint'ring place, and Xanthus, stood likewise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To visit Delos his mother's mansion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repairing eft and furnishing her quire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Candians and the folk of Driopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With painted Agathyrsi shout and cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Environing the altars round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that he walks upon Mount Cynthus' top,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His sparkled tress repressed with garlands soft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>[<a href="./images/250.png">250</a>]</span><span class="i0">His quiver and darts clattering behind his back&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fresh and lusty did &AElig;neas seem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to the hills and wild holts when they came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the rock's top the driven savage rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, from the hills above on the other side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the wide lawns they gan to take their course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The harts likewise, in troops taking their flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Raising the dust, the mountain-fast forsake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amids the plain, now pricks by them, by these;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the encounter wisheth oft, in mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lion brown, might from the hill descend.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>This short extract is given as a sample of the first blank verse written
+in the English language. The spelling has been modernized.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A SONNET.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Description and Praise of his Love Geraldine.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her sire an earl; her dame of princes' blood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From tender years, in Britain she doth rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With king's child, where she tasteth costly food.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunsdon did first present her to my een:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>[<a href="./images/251.png">251</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happy is he that can obtain her love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wyatt resteth here that quick could never rest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such profit he by envy could obtain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A head where wisdom mysteries did frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on a stithe where that some work of fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was daily wrought, to turn to Britain's gain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mark, the which (unperfected for time)<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some may approach, but never none shall hit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An eye whose judgment none effect could blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Friends to allure and foes to reconcile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose piercing look did represent a mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With virtue fraught reposed void of guile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A heart where dread was never so imprest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hide the thought that might the truth advance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In neither fortune lost, nor yet represt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To swell in wealth, or yield unto mischance.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>[<a href="./images/252.png">252</a>]</span><span class="i0">A valiant corpse, where force and beauty met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Happy alas, too happy but for foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lived, and ran the race that nature set<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of manhood's shape, when she the mould did lose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus for our guilt this jewel have we lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Wyatt</span> and <span class="smcap">Surrey</span> are usually named together as the most illustrious
+poets of the earlier part of the sixteenth century. J. Churton Collins
+calls them, not inaptly, "the Dioscuri of the Dawn." "They inaugurated,"
+he says, "that important period in our literature known as the Era of
+Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers&mdash;the period
+which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and
+Shakespeare." It is to them that we are indebted for the sonnet: they
+were indeed the founders of our lyrical poetry. Jonson, Herrick, Waller,
+Cowley, and Suckling found inspiration in their ditties. Surrey's
+translation of the second and fourth books of Virgil's "&AElig;neid" (1552) is
+the earliest specimen of blank verse in our language.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Thomas Wyatt</span> was born at Allington Castle in 1503, and in his youth was
+a prominent and very popular member of the court of Henry VIII. He was
+knighted in 1536, and in 1537 became high sheriff of Kent. In April of
+the same year he was sent as ambassador to Spain, and in 1539-40 was
+with the court of Charles V. in the Low Countries. Returning to England
+he lived for the next two years in retirement, and died at Sherborne in
+1542.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey</span>, was born about 1517, and, like his friend
+Wyatt, passed his youth at the court of Henry VIII. He served in France
+in 1540, and again in 1544-46. After taking Boulogne, he became its
+governor; but, on account of defeat soon afterwards at St. Etienne, he
+was recalled to England by Henry VIII. His comments upon this action of
+the king caused his arrest and imprisonment in the Tower. A charge of
+high treason was preferred against him for having quartered the royal
+arms with his own, and he was beheaded on Tower Hill, January 21, 1547.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>[<a href="./images/253.png">253</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Ballads.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>WALY, WALY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O waly,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_1" id="marker_Waly_Waly_1"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_1" class="marker">1</a> waly, up the bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O waly, waly, doun the brae,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_2" id="marker_Waly_Waly_2"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waly, waly, yon burn-side,<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_3" id="marker_Waly_Waly_3"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where I and my love were wont to gae!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lean'd my back unto an aik,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I thocht it was a trustie tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first it bow'd and syne<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_4" id="marker_Waly_Waly_4"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_4" class="marker">4</a> it brak',&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sae my true love did lichtlie<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_5" id="marker_Waly_Waly_5"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_5" class="marker">5</a> me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O waly, waly, but love be bonnie<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A little time while it is new!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when it's auld it waxeth cauld,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fadeth awa' like the morning dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O wherefore should I busk<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_6" id="marker_Waly_Waly_6"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_6" class="marker">6</a> my heid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or wherefore should I kame my hair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my true love has me forsook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And says he'll never lo'e me mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Noo Arthur's Seat<a name="marker_Waly_Waly_7" id="marker_Waly_Waly_7"></a><a href="#Note_Waly_Waly_7" class="marker">7</a> sall be my bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sheets sall ne'er be press'd by me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saint Anton's well sall be my drink;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Since my true love's forsaken me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And shake the green leaves off the tree?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>[<a href="./images/254.png">254</a>]</span><span class="i0">O gentle death, when wilt thou come?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For of my life I am wearie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But my love's heart grown cauld to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we cam' in by Glasgow toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We were a comely sicht to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My love was clad in the black velvet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I mysel' in cramasie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But had I wist before I kiss'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That love had been so ill to win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And set upon the nurse's knee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An' I mysel' were dead and gane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the green grass growing over me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>"This is a very ancient song," says Bishop Percy, "but we can only give
+it from a modern copy." It is often printed as part of a ballad relating
+to the history of Lord James Douglas and of the Laird of Blackwood. The
+lament is that of a beautiful lady whose fortunes were connected with
+those of Lord Douglas.</p>
+
+<p class="section"><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_1" id="Note_Waly_Waly_1"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_1">1.</a> <b>waly.</b> An interjection denoting grief.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_2" id="Note_Waly_Waly_2"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_2">2.</a> <b>brae.</b> Hillside.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_3" id="Note_Waly_Waly_3"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_3">3.</a> <b>burn-side.</b> Brook-side.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_4" id="Note_Waly_Waly_4"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_4">4.</a> <b>syne.</b> Then.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_5" id="Note_Waly_Waly_5"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_5">5.</a> <b>lichtlie.</b> Slight, undervalue.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_6" id="Note_Waly_Waly_6"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_6">6.</a> <b>busk.</b> Dress.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Waly_Waly_7" id="Note_Waly_Waly_7"></a><a href="#marker_Waly_Waly_7">7.</a> <b>Arthur's Seat.</b> A hill near Edinburgh, at the foot of which is St.
+Anthony's well.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>[<a href="./images/255.png">255</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>SIR PATRICK SPENS.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">A Scottish Ballad.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang">[This ballad is a confused echo of the Scotch expedition which should
+have brought the Maid of Norway to Scotland about 1285.]</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The king sits in Dunfermline town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Drinking the blude-red wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O whare will I get a skeely skipper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sail this new ship of mine!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O up and spake an eldern knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat at the king's right knee,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That ever sail'd the sea."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our king has written a braid letter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And seal'd it with his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking on the strand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"To Noroway, to Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To Noroway o'er the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king's daughter of Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis thou maun bring her hame."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The first word that Sir Patrick read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sae loud, loud laughed he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The neist word that Sir Patrick read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The tear blinded his e'e.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O wha is this has done this deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tauld the king o' me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To send us out, at this time of the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To sail upon the sea?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>[<a href="./images/256.png">256</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our ship must sail the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The king's daughter of Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis we must fetch her hame."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' a' the speed they may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hae landed in Noroway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon a Wodensday.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They hadna been a week, a week,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Noroway, but twae,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that the lords o' Noroway<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Began aloud to say,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a' our queenis fee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fu' loud I hear ye lie.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For I brought as much white monie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As gane my men and me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out o'er the sea wi' me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a'!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our gude ship sails the morn."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now, ever alake, my master dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear a deadly storm!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I saw the new moon, late yestreen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' the auld moon in her arm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, if we gang to sea, master,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I fear we'll come to harm."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>[<a href="./images/257.png">257</a>]</span><span class="i0">They had not sailed a league, a league,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A league but barely three,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And gurly grew the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It was sic a deadly storm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till a' her sides were torn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O where will I get a gude sailor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take my helm in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I get up to the tall top-mast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To see if I can spy land?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O here am I, a sailor gude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To take the helm in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till you go up to the tall top-mast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He hadna gane a step, a step,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A step but barely ane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When a bout flew out of our goodly ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the salt sea it came in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another o' the twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wap them into our ship's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And let na the sea come in."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They fetched a web o' the silken claith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Another of the twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wapped them round that gude ship's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But still the sea came in.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>[<a href="./images/258.png">258</a>]</span><span class="i0">O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To weet their cork-heel'd shoon!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lang or a' the play was play'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They wat their hats aboon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And mony was the feather-bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That flattered on the faem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mony was the gude lord's son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That never mair cam hame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ladyes wrang their fingers white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The maidens tore their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A' for the sake of their true loves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For them they'll see na mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' their fans into their hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before they see Sir Patrick Spens<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come sailing to the strand!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' their goud kaims in their hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A' waiting for their ain dear loves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For them they'll see na mair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O forty miles off Aberdeen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis fifty fathoms deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES AND GLOSSARY.</h3>
+
+<p>This ballad in its original form is a very old one, and was probably at
+first a metrical story of the Scotch expedition which was sent to bring
+the Maid of Norway to Scotland (about the year 1285). In its
+sixteenth-century <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>[<a href="./images/259.png">259</a>]</span>form it shows many changes and additions, some of
+which are not in harmony with the original tale. The <i>cork-heel'd
+shoon</i>, for example, were unknown until some hundreds of years later
+than the occurrence of the events here narrated.</p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for Sir Patrick Spens" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>skeely</b>, skilful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gane</b>, suffice.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>skipper</b>, captain.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>half-fou</b>, a quart, dry measure.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>braid</b>, open, not private.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>alake</b>, alack.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>goud</b>, gold.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lift</b>, sky. (Still used in Scotland.)</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 4em;"><b>fee</b> (see note 13, page <a href="#Page_105">105</a>).</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>shoon</b>, shoes.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he was a squires son;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lived in Islington.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet she was coye, and would not believe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That he did love her soe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Noe nor at any time would she<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Any countenance to him showe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when his friendes did understand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His fond and foolish minde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sent him up to faire London,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">An apprentice for to binde.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when he had been seven long yeares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And never his love could see,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Many a teare have I shed for her sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When she little thought of mee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then all the maids of Islington<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Went forth to sport and playe,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>[<a href="./images/260.png">260</a>]</span><span class="i0">All but the bayliffes daughter deare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She secretly stole awaye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She pulled off her gowne of greene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And put on ragged attire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to faire London she would go<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her true love to enquire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And as she went along the high road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The weather being hot and drye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sat her downe upon a green bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And her true love came riding bye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She started up, with a colour soe redd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Catching hold of his bridle-reine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she sayd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Will ease me of much paine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Praye tell me where you were borne."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"At Islington, kind sir," sayd shee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Where I have had many a scorne."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O tell me, whether you knowe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bayliffes daughter of Islington."<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"She is dead, sir, long agoe."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If she be dead, then take my horse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My saddle and bridle also;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I will into some farr countrye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where noe man shall me knowe."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>[<a href="./images/261.png">261</a>]</span><span class="i0">"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She standeth by thy side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She is here alive, she is not dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And readye to be thy bride."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ten thousand times therefore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Whom I thought I should never see more."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ROBIN HOOD AND THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are twelve months in all the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As I hear many say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the merriest month in all the year<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is the merry month of May.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down, and a day</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met a silly old woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was weeping on the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What news? what news? thou silly old woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What news hast thou for me?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said she, "There's my three sons in Nottingham town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day condemned to die."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, have they parishes burnt?" he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Or have they ministers slain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or have they robbed any virgin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or other men's wives have ta'en?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>[<a href="./images/262.png">262</a>]</span><span class="i0">"They have no parishes burnt, good sir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet have ministers slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor have they robbed any virgin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor other men's wives have ta'en."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, what have they done?" said Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I pray thee tell to me."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It's for slaying of the king's fallow deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bearing their long bows with thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Dost thou not mind, old woman," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"How thou madest me sup and dine?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the truth of my body," quoth bold Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"You could not tell it in better time."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down, and a day</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met with a silly old palmer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking along the highway.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What news? what news? thou silly old man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What news, I do thee pray?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are condemn'd to die this day."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Come change thy apparel with me, old man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come change thy apparel for mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is ten shillings in good silv&egrave;r,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go drink it in beer or wine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, thine apparel is good," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"And mine is ragged and torn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherever you go, wherever you ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Laugh not an old man to scorn."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>[<a href="./images/263.png">263</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come change thy apparel with mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here is a piece of good broad gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Go feast thy brethren with wine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's hat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It stood full high on the crown:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The first bold bargain that I come at,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It shall make thee come down."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's cloak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was patch'd black, blue, and red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thought it no shame, all the day long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To wear the bags of bread.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's breeks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was patch'd from leg to side:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"This man loved little pride."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's hose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were patch'd from knee to wrist:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," said bold Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"I'd laugh if I had any list."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then he put on the old man's shoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were patch'd both beneath and aboon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"It's good habit that makes a man."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1"><i>With a link a down and a down</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there he met with the proud sheriff,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was walking along the town.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>[<a href="./images/264.png">264</a>]</span><span class="i0">"Save you, save you, sheriff!" he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Now heaven you save and see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what will you give to a silly old man<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day will your hangman be?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Some suits I'll give to thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To-day's a hangman's fee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Robin he turns him round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And jumps from stock to stone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet intends to trade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But curst be he," said bold Robin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That first a hangman was made!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a bag for barley and corn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a bag for bread, and a bag for beef,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And a bag for my little small horn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I have a horn in my pock&egrave;t,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I got it from Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still when I set it to my mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For thee it blows little good."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, wind thy horn, thou proud fell&ograve;w!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of thee I have no doubt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wish that thou give such a blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till both thy eyes fall out."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>[<a href="./images/265.png">265</a>]</span><span class="i0">The first loud blast that he did blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He blew both loud and shrill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came riding over the hill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The next loud blast that he did give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He blew both loud and amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came shining over the plain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, who are these," the sheriff he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Come tripping over the lee?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"They're my attendants," brave Robin did say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"They'll pay a visit to thee."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They took the gallows from the slack,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They set it in the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They hanged the proud sher&igrave;ff on that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Released their own three men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p>Among the earliest and most popular of English ballads are those
+relating to Robin Hood. This noted, half-mythical outlaw was the
+impersonation of popular rights as they were understood by Englishmen of
+the lower orders in the days of the Plantagenets. Hence the memory of
+him and his reputed deeds was preserved in the songs of the people. "It
+is he," says an old historian, "whom the common people love so dearly to
+celebrate in games and comedies, and whose history, sung by fiddlers,
+interests them more than any other." Even so late as the reign of Edward
+VI., "Robyn Hoode's Daye" was very generally observed in the country
+parishes as a day of feasting and amusement.</p>
+
+<p>The ballads were originally the production of wandering minstrels or
+gleemen, a class of men very popular in the Middle Ages, who followed
+the profession of poetry and music. These rude poets were held in the
+highest esteem and veneration by the people among whom they lived; they
+were received and welcomed wherever they went, and even kings delighted
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a>[<a href="./images/266.png">266</a>]</span>to honor them. In short, their art was supposed, by the Anglo-Saxons,
+to be of divine origin, having been invented by Odin, the great
+All-Father, and perfected by Bragi, the musician of the gods. As,
+however, civilization advanced and Christianity became established, this
+admiration for the minstrel and his art became modified in a degree. He
+was no longer regarded as a poet, but only as a singer, a sweet
+musician. Poetry was cultivated by men of leisure and refinement; but
+lyrical ballads remained the peculiar inheritance of the minstrel. For a
+long time after the Norman conquest, minstrels continued to gain their
+livelihood by singing in the houses of the great, and at festive
+occasions, which were never considered complete unless graced by the
+presence of these honored descendants of Bragi; nor did they cease to
+compose and sing their inimitable pieces until near the close of
+Elizabeth's reign. The greater number of the ballads now in existence
+were probably produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and
+the best of them originated in the "North Country," or the border region
+between England and Scotland. They were not at first reduced to writing,
+but were handed down from one generation to another merely by oral
+tradition. As regards their metre and versification, the ballads were
+commonly composed of iambic hexameters or heptameters rhyming in
+couplets. These couplets are readily broken into stanzas of four lines,
+in which form they are usually printed.</p>
+
+<p>The first collection of English ballads ever published was probably that
+of John Dryden, in 1684. The collection was included in a volume
+entitled <i>Miscellany Poems</i>. In 1723 a work called <i>A Collection of Old
+Ballads</i> was published anonymously. In 1724 Allan Ramsay issued <i>The
+Evergreen</i>, "being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious
+before 1600." This work included many popular songs and ballads. It was
+reprinted in 1875.</p>
+
+<p>We owe the preservation of a large number of the most interesting and
+beautiful ballads to Bishop Percy, who, in 1765, published the first
+really valuable collection of such works in his <i>Reliques of Ancient
+English Poetry</i>. Previous to that time most of these songs had existed
+only in manuscript, or, if printed at all, in the cheapest style of
+typography, on sheets designed for circulation among the poor. Bishop
+Percy's work first called the attention of scholars to the value and
+beauty of these neglected and half-forgotten relics, and did much to
+bring about that revolution in literature which took place in the latter
+part of the last century. And it is to these old ballads, thus rescued
+from oblivion, that we owe very many of the noblest literary productions
+of the present century. We know that they were the immediate inspiration
+of Sir Walter Scott, and that they exerted a wonderful influence in
+modifying and directing the taste and style of many other distinguished
+writers.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a>[<a href="./images/267.png">267</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Fifteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>When we pass from Chaucer's age, we have to overleap nearly a hundred
+and eighty years before we alight upon a period presenting anything like
+an adequate show of literary continuation. A few smaller names are all
+that can be cited as poetical representatives of this sterile interval
+in the literary history of England: whatever of Chaucer's genius still
+lingered in the island seeming to have travelled northward and taken
+refuge in a series of Scotch poets, excelling any of their English
+contemporaries. We are driven to suppose that there was something in the
+social circumstances of England during the long period in question which
+prevented such talent as there was from assuming the particular form of
+literature. Fully to make out what this 'something' was may baffle us;
+but, when we remember that this was the period of the Civil Wars of the
+Roses, we have reason to believe that the dearth of pure literature may
+have been owing, in part, to the engrossing nature of the practical
+questions which then disturbed English society.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Accordingly, though
+printing was introduced during this period, and thus Englishmen had
+greater temptations to write, what they did write was almost exclusively
+plain grave prose, intended for practical or polemical occasions, and
+making no figure in a historical retrospect.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">David Masson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>Must we quote all these good people who have nothing to say? .&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming
+chroniclers, most commonplace of men; spinners and spinsters of didactic
+poems who pile up verses on the training of falcons, on heraldry, on
+chemistry, .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. invent the same dream over again for the hundredth time,
+and get themselves taught universal history by the goddess Sapience.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+It is the scholastic phase of poetry.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Taine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>[<a href="./images/268.png">268</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Fifteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p><b>John Lydgate</b> (1370-1440). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Thomas Occleve</b> (1365-1450). "De Regimine Principum"; short poems.</p>
+
+<p><b>Robert Henryson</b> (1425-1480). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>William Dunbar</b> (1450-1513). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Gawain Douglas</b> (1474-1522). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>Stephen Hawes</b> (&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-1530), "The Pastime of Pleasure"; "Graunde Amour and la
+Belle Pucel."</p>
+
+<p><b>John Skelton</b> (1460-1529). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>[<a href="./images/269.png">269</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>John Skelton.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mydsomer flowre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentill as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With solace and gladnes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moche mirthe and no madness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All good and no badness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So joyously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So maydenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So womanly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her demenyng<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In every thynge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far, far passynge<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I can endyght,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or suffyce to wryghte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mydsomer flowre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentyll as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As pacient and as styll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And as full of good wyll<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As faire Isaphill;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>[<a href="./images/270.png">270</a>]</span><span class="i1">Colyaunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Swete pomaunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Goode Cassaunder;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stedfast of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wele made, wele wrought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Far may be sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Erst that ye can fynde<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So corteise, so kynde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As mirry Margaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">This mydsomer floure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Jentyll as fawcoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or hawke of the towre.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CARDINAL WOLSEY.</h2>
+
+<h3>[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?"]</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is set so hye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his ierarchye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of frantike frenesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And folish fantasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in chambre of stars<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" class="marker">1</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al maters ther he mars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clapping his rod on the borde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No man dare speake a worde:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hath al the saying<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without any renaying.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rolleth in his Recordes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is not my reason good?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good!&mdash;even good&mdash;<i>Robin Hood</i>!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>[<a href="./images/271.png">271</a>]</span><span class="i0">Borne up on every syde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pompe and with pryde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With trump up alleluya,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For dame Philargyria<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" class="marker">3</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath so his hart in hold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adew, Philosophia!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adew, Theologia!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Welcome, dame Simonia,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" class="marker">4</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dame Castamergia,<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drink and for to eate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweete ipocras<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" class="marker">6</a> and sweete meate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To keep his fleshe chaste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Lente, for his repaste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He eateth capons stewed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fesaunt and partriche mewed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spareth neither mayd ne wife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is a postel's<a name="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" id="marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7"></a><a href="#Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" class="marker">7</a> life!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_1"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_1">1.</a> <b>chambre of stars.</b> The Star Chamber, a court of civil and criminal
+jurisdiction for the punishment of offences for which the law made no
+provision. It was so called because the ceiling of the room in which it
+was held was decorated with gilt stars.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_2"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_2">2.</a> <b>alleluya.</b> In allusion to the pomp with which Wolsey celebrated divine
+service.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_3"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_3">3.</a> <b>Philargyria.</b> Love of money; covetousness.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_4"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_4">4.</a> <b>Simonia.</b> Simony; buying and selling church livings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_5"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_5">5.</a> <b>Castamergia.</b> Gluttony. Greek <i>kastrimargia</i>. A not uncommon word
+among the monks of the Middle Ages, one of whose prayers was, "From the
+spirit of castrimargia, O Lord, deliver us!"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_6"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_6">6.</a> <b>ipocras.</b> Hippocras, or spiced wine, a drink formerly very popular in
+England. It was made by mixing Canary and Lisbon wines, in equal parts,
+with various kinds of sweet spices, and allowing the whole to stand for
+a few days, after which the wine was poured off and sweetened with
+sugar.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7" id="Note_Cardinal_Wolsey_7"></a><a href="#marker_Cardinal_Wolsey_7">7.</a> <b>postel.</b> Apostle&mdash;here ironically applied to Wolsey.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>[<a href="./images/272.png">272</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Skelton</span> was born about the year 1460. In his earlier life he was
+the friend of Caxton, the first English printer, and of Percy, Earl of
+Northumberland. He was poet-laureate under Henry VII., and tutor of the
+young prince (afterwards Henry VIII.), and was described by Erasmus as
+<i>litterarum Anglicarum lumen et decus</i>. Later in life he was promoted to
+the rectory of Diss in Norfolk, but was severely censured by his bishop
+for his buffooneries in the pulpit and his satirical ballads against the
+mendicants. He finally became a hanger-on about the court of Henry
+VIII.; and, daring to write a rhyming libel on Cardinal Wolsey, was
+driven to take refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey. There he
+was kindly entertained and protected by Abbot Islip until his death in
+1529. Some of his poems were printed in 1512, and others in 1568.</p>
+
+<p>Taine calls Skelton "a virulent pamphleteer, who jumbles together
+French, English, Latin phrases, with slang and fashionable words,
+invented words, intermingled with short rhymes. Style, metre, rhyme,
+language, art of every kind, at an end; beneath the vain parade of
+official style there is only a heap of rubbish. Yet, as he says,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Though my rhyme be ragged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Tatter'd and jagged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rudely rain-beaten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Rusty, moth-eaten,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">Yf ye take welle therewithe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">It hath in it some pithe.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>As to the coarseness which characterizes his verses, it cannot be
+explained by saying that it is a reflection of the manners of the times
+in which he lived. For, as Warton says, Skelton "would have been a
+writer without decorum at any period." Yet, notwithstanding his faults,
+he is deserving of our notice, if for nothing else, on account of the
+complete originality of his style&mdash;a style unknown and unattempted by
+any former writer. His bold departure from the accepted rules of
+versification showed to those who followed him some of the possibilities
+in English poetical composition, and helped to open the way to the great
+outburst of song which followed.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>[<a href="./images/273.png">273</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Selections from Four Minor Poets.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A VISIT TO LONDON.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> JOHN LYDGATE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then unto London I dyd me hye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the land it beareth the pryse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hot pescodes," one began to crye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Strabery rype, and cherryes in the ryse";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One bade me come nere and by some spyce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peper and safforne they gan me bede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I myght not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then to the Chepe I began me drawne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where mutch people I saw for to stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An other he taketh me by the hande,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the land";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never was used to such thyngs indede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wanting mony, I might not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then went I forth by London stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th[o]roughout all Canwyke streete;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then comes me one, cryed, "Hot shepes feete";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cryde "makerell," "ryshes grene," an other gan greete;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>[<a href="./images/274.png">274</a>]</span><span class="i0">One bad me by a hood to cover my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for want of mony I myght not be sped.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I hyed me into Est-Chepe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pewter pottes they clattered on a heape;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was harpe, pype, and mynstralsye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yea, by cock! nay, by cock!" some began crye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I myght not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then into Corn-Hyll anon I yode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where was mutch stolen gere amonge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw where honge myne owne hoode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I had lost amonge the thronge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To by my own hood I thought it wronge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knew it well as I dyd my crede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for lack of mony I could not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The taverner tooke me by the sleve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir," sayth he, "wyll you our wyne assay"?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I answered, "That can not mutch me greve:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A peny can do no more than it may";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I drank a pynt, and for it did paye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet sone a-hungerd from thence I yede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wantyng mony, I cold not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one cryed, "Hoo! go we hence!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I prayd a barge-man, for God's sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he wold spare me my expence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou scapst not here," quod he, "under two pence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, lackyng mony, I could not spede.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>[<a href="./images/275.png">275</a>]</span><span class="i0">Then I convayd me into Kent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of the law wold I meddle no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because no man to me tooke entent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dyght me to do as I dyd before.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now Jesus, that in Bethlem was bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For who so wantes mony with them shall not spede.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>From "London Lickpenny."</i></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A Visit to London" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>anone</b>, at once.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hyed</b>, hurried.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>assay</b>, try.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lyst</b>, wish.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bede</b>, offer.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mede</b>, reward, wages.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 4em;"><b>Chepe</b>, the market. Cheapside, still a</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pescodes</b>, pease.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-left: 2em;">famous street in London.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ryse</b>, bough or twig.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>dyght</b>, disposed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ryshes</b>, rushes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gere</b>, apparel.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>spede</b>, proceed, do.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>greete</b>, cry out.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yede</b>, went.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE GOLDEN AGE.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rightwisenes chastised al robbours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By egall balaunce of execucion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fraud, fals&euml; mede, put backward fro jurours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True promes holde, made no delacioun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forswearing shamed durst enter in no toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor lesingmongers, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That golden world could lov&euml; God and drede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the seven dedes of mercy for to use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rich was ready to do alm&euml;s dede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who asked harbour, men did him not refuse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No man of malice would other tho accuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a>[<a href="./images/276.png">276</a>]</span><span class="i0">Defame his neighbour, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The true marchant by measure bought and sold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deceipt was none in the artificer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making no balkes, the plough was truely hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abacke stode Idlenes, farre from labourer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discrecion marcial at diner and supper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Content with measure, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of wast in clothing was that time none excesse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men might the lord from his subject&euml;s know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A difference made twene povertie and richesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twene a princesse and other stat&euml;s lowe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horned boast&euml;s no boast was tho blowe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor counterfeit feining, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had in that world wholy the governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This golden world long whyl&euml; dyd endure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was none allay in that metall sene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tyll Saturne ceased, by record of scripture,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jupiter reygned, put out his father clene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chaunged obrison into silver shene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al up so downe, because Attemperaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was set asyde, and loste her governaunce.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>"The Falls of Princes," from which this is an extract, was printed in
+folio in 1558. Its complete title is, "The Tragedies gathered by Jhon
+Bochas of all such Princes as fell from theyr Estates throughe the
+Mutability of Fortune since the creation of Adam until his time; wherin
+may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable
+warninges howe the like may be avoyded. Translated into English by John
+Lidgate, Monke of Burye."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>[<a href="./images/277.png">277</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>THE GARMOND OF FAIR LADIES.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> ROBERT HENRYSON.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wald my gud lady lufe me best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And wirk eftir my will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I suld ane Garmond gudliest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gar mak hir body till.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Off hie honour suld be hir hud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upoun hir heid to weir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Garneist with governance so gud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Na demyng suld hir deir.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of chestetie so quhyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With schame and dreid togidder mixt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The same suld be perfyt.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir kirtill suld be of clene constance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lasit with lesum lufe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mailyheis of continuance<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For nevir to remufe.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir gown suld be of gudliness<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weill ribband with renowne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Purfillit with plesour in ilk place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Furrit with fyne fassoun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir belt suld be of benignitie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">About hir middill meit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir mantill of humilitie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To tholl bayth wind and weit.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a>[<a href="./images/278.png">278</a>]</span><span class="i0">Hir hat suld be of fair having<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And her tepat of trewth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir patelet of gude pansing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hir hals-ribbane of rewth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir slevis suld be of esperance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keip hir fra dispair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To hyd hir fyngearis fair.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hir schone suld be of sickernes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In syne that scho nocht slyd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I suld for hir provyd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wald scho put on this Garmond gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I durst sweir by my seill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That scho woir nevir grene nor gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That set hir half so weill.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A Visit to London" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>esperance</b>, hope.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>patelet</b>, ruffet.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fassoun</b>, manners.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhyt</b>, white.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>garmond</b>, garment, costume.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rewth</b>, pity.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>governance</b>, discretion.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sark</b>, shirt, chemise.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hals-ribbane</b>, neck-ribbon.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>scho</b>, she.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hoiss</b>, hose.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>schone</b>, shoes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hud</b>, hood.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>seill</b>, knowledge.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kirtill</b>, skirt.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>set</b>, suited.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lasit</b>, fastened.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sickernes</b>, security.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lesum</b>, lawful.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>suld</b>, should.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lufe</b>, love.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tepat</b>, tippet.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mailyheis</b>, eyelet-holes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tholl</b>, withstand.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pansing</b>, thought.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weit</b>, rain.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>[<a href="./images/279.png">279</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>A MAY MORNING.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> WILLIAM DUNBAR.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Appryle had, with her silver schouris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In at the window lukit by the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">S&eacute; hou the lusty morrow dois up spring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed up stude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hevinly of colour, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quhyll all the house illumynit of her lemys.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slugird, scho said, awalk annone for schame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lark hes done the mirry day proclame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To raise up luvaris with comfort and delyt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>[<a href="./images/280.png">280</a>]</span><span class="i0">Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sangis to mak undir the levis grene.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then callit scho all flouris that grew on feild<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upone the awfull Thrissil scho beheld<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Considering him so able for the weiris<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said, In feild go furth and fend the laif:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And sen thou art a King, thou be discreit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As herb of vertew and of odour sueit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hir fallow to the gudly flour-de-lyce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Compair hir to the lilleis nobilness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Considring that no flour is so perfyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So full of vertew, pleasans, and delyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So full of blisful angeilik bewty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imperiall birth, honour and dignit&eacute;.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p>This is a selection from the long allegorical poem, "The Thistle and the
+Rose." The thistle represents Scotland, of which country that plant is
+the national emblem. The fleur-de-lis, or lily, represents France; and
+the rose, England. The poem was written in celebration of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret of England, and the
+friendly relations thus established for a time between those two
+countries.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>[<a href="./images/281.png">281</a>]</span></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for A May Morning" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>denty</b>, favor.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>muddir</b>, mother.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>effeiris</b>, affairs.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>orient</b>, eastern.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ene</b>, eyes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhen</b>, when.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fallow</b>, betroth.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhois</b>, whose.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>forgit</b>, made, created.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhyll</b>, while.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gife</b>, if.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rois</b>, rose.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halsit</b>, hailed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sic</b>, such.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>houris</b>, morning orisons.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>speiris</b>, spears.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>laif</b>, rest.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>splene</b>, heart.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lemys</b>, rays.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>thrissil</b>, thistle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lukit</b>, looked.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>udir</b>, other.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>mansuetude</b>, gentleness.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weid</b>, garments.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>morrow</b>, morning.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>weiris</b>, wars.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>IN PRAISE OF HONOUR.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">By</span> GAWAIN DOUGLAS.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour degest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hie renoun thow art guerdoun conding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of worschip kend the glorious end and rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pouerall to mekill auaill sone bring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I the require sen thow but peir art best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He docht richt nocht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy name but blame, and royal fame diuine is;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>[<a href="./images/282.png">282</a>]</span><span class="i0">Thow port at schort of our comfort and reid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O schene I mene, nane may sustene thy feid.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Haill rois maist chois till clois thy fois greit micht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haill stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was ay ilk day gar say the way of licht;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till be supplie, and the high gre of price.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I apply schortlie to thy deuise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="attrib">&mdash;<i>From "The Palice of Honour."</i></p>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for In Praise of Honour" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>afoir</b>, before.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>guerdoun</b>, reward.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>auance</b>, advance.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ilk</b>, any.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ay</b>, ever, always.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mekill</b>, much, mickle.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>but</b>, without.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>peir</b>, peer.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>conding</b>, condign, worthy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>poureall</b>, the poor.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>crynis</b>, diminishes.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>puissance</b>, power.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>deid</b>, death.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhilk</b>, who, which.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>degest</b>, grave.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>quhome</b>, without whom.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>dicht</b>, relieve.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reid</b>, advice.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>docht</b>, avails.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rois</b>, king.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>feid</b>, hatred.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sanct</b>, saint.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fois</b>, time.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>site</b>, shame.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>glaiding</b>, happiness.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>till</b>, to.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gloir</b>, glory.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tite</b>, quickly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>grant</b>, giving.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tynis</b>, loses.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gre</b>, degree.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wicht</b>, person, wight.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>[<a href="./images/283.png">283</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>FOUR POETS OF THIS CENTURY.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Lydgate</span> was born at the village of Lydgate, near Newmarket, about
+1370. He was a Benedictine monk attached to the monastery of Bury St.
+Edmunds, and is remembered as the author of three poems, which, in their
+time, attracted much attention. These are "The Storie of Thebes,"
+written in ten-syllable rhyming couplets, and founded upon the "Teseide"
+of Boccaccio; the "Troye Book," finished about 1420, and relating the
+story of the Trojan war as recounted by Guido di Colonna in his Latin
+prose history of Troy; and "The Falls of Princes," founded on a French
+version of Boccaccio's "De Casibus Virorum Illustrium." In 1433, Lydgate
+wrote a wearisome but somewhat amusing poem, "Pur le Roy," describing a
+visit to London, and the pageants, processions, and other rejoicings, on
+the occasion of the entrance of Henry VI. into the city after his
+coronation. The date of the poet's death is not exactly known, but it
+was probably not later than 1440.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert Henryson</span>, "an accomplished man and a good and genuine poet," was
+born about the year 1425, and died near the close of the century. He was
+for a time a schoolmaster and notary public at Dunfermline, in Scotland,
+and was connected, in some capacity, with the University of Glasgow. He
+was probably, like Lydgate, a Benedictine monk. His principal works are
+"The Testament of Cresseid," a sequel to Chaucer's "Troilus and
+Cresseide," and a collection of thirteen fables. He wrote also many
+shorter poems, of which the ballad of "Robin and Makyne" (published in
+Percy's <i>Reliques</i>) is the best known.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William Dunbar</span> was born in East Lothian, Scotland, about the year 1450.
+He was educated at the University of St. Andrews, and in early life
+travelled somewhat extensively as a novitiate of the order of St.
+Francis. He visited England in 1501, upon the occasion of the marriage
+of James IV. of Scotland to the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry
+VII. One of his best poems, "The Thistle and the Rose," was written in
+commemoration of that event. He accompanied the queen to Aberdeen in
+1511, and for some time, both before and after, was in attendance and
+favor at the Scotch court. Nothing is known of his death, but it has
+been conjectured <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a>[<a href="./images/284.png">284</a>]</span>that he fell in the battle of Flodden, in 1513.
+Besides the poem just mentioned, he wrote "The Golden Targe," "The Dance
+of the Deadly Sins," and many shorter poems, most of which are
+allegories. The "Thistle and the Rose" has been pronounced "the happiest
+political allegory in our language. Heraldry has never been more
+skilfully handled, nor compliments more gracefully paid, nor fidelity
+more persuasively preached to a monarch than in this poem."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Gawain Douglas</span> was a son of the famous Earl of Angus, and was born in
+Brechin, Scotland, about 1474. He was educated partly at the University
+of St. Andrews, and partly in Paris. His first considerable poem, "The
+Palice of Honour," was published in 1501, and dedicated to King James
+IV. It is an allegory, such as was at that time the staple of poetical
+composition, and contains but little that is particularly original.
+Another allegory, printed after his death, is entitled "King Hart," and
+has for its subject the heart of man. His greatest work is his
+translation of Virgil's "&AElig;neid" into Scottish verse. In 1509, Douglas
+was appointed provost of St. Giles, Edinburgh, and after the battle of
+Flodden he was made abbot of Aberbrothwick. In 1515 he was consecrated
+Bishop of Dunkeld, but was unable to gain possession of the cathedral
+except by force. Becoming involved in the feud between the rival
+families of Angus and Hamilton, he was obliged to escape into England in
+1521, where towards the end of the same year he died.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>[<a href="./images/285.png">285</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>The Fourteenth Century.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"<i>In the fourteenth century there comes an Englishman nourished on this
+[the romance] poetry, taught his trade by this poetry, getting words,
+rhyme, metre from this poetry; for even of that stanza which the
+Italians used, and which Chaucer derived immediately from the Italians,
+the basis and suggestion was probably given in France.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. If we ask
+ourselves wherein consists the immense superiority of Chaucer's poetry
+over the [earlier] romance-poetry, why it is that in passing from this
+to Chaucer we suddenly feel ourselves to be in another world, we shall
+find that his superiority is both in the substance of his poetry and in
+the style of his poetry. His superiority in substance is given by his
+large, free, simple, clear yet kindly view of human life.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. We have
+only to call to mind the Prologue to 'The Canterbury Tales.' The right
+comment upon it is Dryden's: 'It is sufficient to say, according to the
+proverb, that </i>here is God's plenty<i>.' And again: 'He is a perpetual
+fountain of good sense.' It is by a large, free, sound representation of
+things, that poetry, this high criticism of life, has truth of
+substance; and Chaucer's poetry has truth of substance. If we think of
+Chaucer's divine liquidness of diction, his divine fluidity of movement,
+it is difficult to speak temperately. They are irresistible, and justify
+all the rapture with which his successors speak of his gold 'dew-drops
+of speech.' .&nbsp;.&nbsp;. Chaucer is the father of our splendid English poetry, he
+is our 'well of English undefiled,' because by the lovely charm of his
+diction, the lovely charm of his movement, he makes an epoch and founds
+a tradition. In Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, we can follow the
+tradition of the liquid diction, the fluid movement, of Chaucer; at one
+time it is his liquid diction of which in these poets we feel the
+virtue, and at another it is his fluid movement. And the virtue is
+irresistible.</i>"&mdash;<span class="smcap">Matthew Arnold.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>[<a href="./images/286.png">286</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>Poets of the Fourteenth Century.</h3>
+
+<p><b>Geoffrey Chaucer</b> (1328-1400). See biographical note, page <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</p>
+
+<p><b>William Langland</b> (1332-&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;). "The Vision of William concerning Piers the
+Ploughman."</p>
+
+<p><b>John Gower</b> (1330-1408). "Confessio Amantis."</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>[<a href="./images/287.png">287</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>Geoffrey Chaucer.</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>FROM THE "PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY TALES."</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whan that Aprille with his schowr&euml;s swoote<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The drought of Marche had perced to the roote,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bathed every veyne in swich licour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which vertue engendred is the flour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whan Zephirus eek with his swet&euml; breethe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enspired hath in every holte and heethe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tendre cropp&euml;s, and the yong&euml; sonne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath in the Ram<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_1" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_1"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_1" class="marker">1</a> his half&euml; cours i-ronne,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_2" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_2"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_2" class="marker">2</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smal&euml; fowl&euml;s maken melodie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slepen al the night with open eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So priketh hem nature in here corages:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And palmers for to seeken<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_3" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_3"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_3" class="marker">3</a> straung&euml; strondes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fern&euml; halwes, kouthe in sondry londes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And specially, from every schir&euml;s ende<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy blisful martir<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_4" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_4"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_4" class="marker">4</a> for to seeke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_5" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_5"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_5" class="marker">5</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Byfel that, in that sesoun on a day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Southwerk at the Tabard<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_6" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_6"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_6" class="marker">6</a> as I lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>[<a href="./images/288.png">288</a>]</span><span class="i0">At night was come into that hostelrye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel nyne and twenty in a compainye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sondry folk, by aventure i-falle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In felaweschipe, and pilgryms were thei alle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chambres and the stables<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_7" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_7"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_7" class="marker">7</a> weren wyde,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wel we wer&euml;n esed att&euml; beste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And schortly, whan the sonn&euml; was to reste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hadde I spoken with hem everychon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I was of here felaweschipe anon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mad&euml; forward erly for to ryse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To take our wey ther as I yow devyse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But nath&euml;les, whil I have tyme and space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_8" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_8"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_8" class="marker">8</a> that I forther in this tal&euml; pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tell&euml; yow al the condicioun<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_9" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_9"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_9" class="marker">9</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of eche of hem, so as it semede me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whiche they weren, and of what degre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek in what array that they were inne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at a knight than wol I first bygynne.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Knight</span> ther was, and that a worthy man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That from the tym&euml; that he first bigan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ryden out, he lovede chyvalrye,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_10" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_10"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_10" class="marker">10</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful worthy was he in his lord&euml;s werre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wel in Cristendom as in heth&euml;nesse,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_11" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_11"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_11" class="marker">11</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evere honoured for his worthinesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Alisaundre<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_12" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_12"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_12" class="marker">12</a> he was whan it was wonne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful oft&euml; tyme he hadde the bord bygonne<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_13" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_13"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_13" class="marker">13</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aboven all&euml; naciouns in Pruce.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_14" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_14"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_14" class="marker">14</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Lettowe hadde he reysed and in Ruce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cristen man so ofte of his degre.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>[<a href="./images/289.png">289</a>]</span><span class="i0">In Gernade<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_15" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_15"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_15" class="marker">15</a> att&euml; sieg&euml; hadde he be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Algesir, and riden in Belmarie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Lieys was he, and at Satalie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whan they were wonne; and in the Greet&euml; see<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_16" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_16"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_16" class="marker">16</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At many a noble arive hadde he be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At mortal batailles hadde he ben fiftene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And foughten for our feith at Tramassene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lyst&euml;s thri&euml;s, and ay slayn his foo.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This ilk&euml; worthy knight hadde ben also<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somtym&euml; with the lord of Palatye,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_17" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_17"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_17" class="marker">17</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ageyn another hethen in Turkye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though that he was worthy, he was wys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of his port as meke as is a mayde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He nevere yit no vileinye ne sayde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In al his lyf, unto no maner wight.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_18" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_18"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_18" class="marker">18</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was a verray perfight gentil knight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for to tellen you of his array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hors was good, but he ne was nought gay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fustyan he werede a gepoun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al bysmotered with his habergeoun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he was late ycome from his viage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And went&euml; for to doon his pilgrimage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With him ther was his sone, a yong <span class="smcap">Squyer</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_19" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_19"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_19" class="marker">19</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lokk&euml;s crulle as they were leyd in presse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his stature he was of even lengthe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wonderly delyver, and gret of strengthe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he hadde ben somtyme in chivachye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And born him wel, as of so litel space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In hope to stonden in his lady grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a>[<a href="./images/290.png">290</a>]</span><span class="i0">Embrowded was he, as it were a mede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Al ful of fressh&euml; floures, white and reede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Syngynge he was, or floytynge,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_20" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_20"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_20" class="marker">20</a> al the day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was as fressh as is the moneth of May.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Schort was his goune, with sleev&euml;s longe and wyde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde he sitte on hors, and fair&euml; ryde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cowd&euml; song&euml;s make and wel endite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and write.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hote he loved&euml;, that by nightertale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sleep nomore than doth a nightyngale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curteys he was, lowly, and servysable,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And carf byforn his fader at the table.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Yeman</span> hadde he,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_21" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_21"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_21" class="marker">21</a> and servaunts nomoo<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At that tyme, for him lust&euml; ryd&euml; soo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was clad in coote and hood of grene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A shef of pocok arw&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_22" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_22"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_22" class="marker">22</a> brighte and kene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under his belte he bar ful thriftily.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde he dresse his takel yemanly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His arwes drowpede nought with fetheres lowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his hond he bar a mighty bowe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A not-heed hadde he with broun visage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wood&euml;-craft wel cowde he al the usage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_23" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_23"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_23" class="marker">23</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on that other side a gay daggere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Harneysed wel, and scharp as poynt of spere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Cristofre<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_24" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_24"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_24" class="marker">24</a> on his brest of silver schene.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A forster was he sothly, as I gesse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ther was also a Nonne, a <span class="smcap">Prioresse</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hire grettest ooth ne was but by seynt Loy<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_25" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_25"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_25" class="marker">25</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sche was cleped madame Eglentyne.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a>[<a href="./images/291.png">291</a>]</span>
+<span class="i0">Ful wel sche sang the servis&euml; divyne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entuned in hire nose ful sem&euml;ly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Frensch sche spak ful faire and fetysly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After the scole of Stratford att&euml; Bowe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At met&euml; wel i-taught was sche withalle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche leet no morsel from hire lipp&euml;s falle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne wette hire fyngres in hire sauc&euml; deepe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel cowde sche carie a morsel, and wel keepe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That no drop&euml; ne fille upon hire breste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hire overlipp&euml; wypede sche so clene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in hire cupp&euml; was no ferthing sene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of grec&euml;, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful sem&euml;ly after hir mete sche raughte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sikerly sche was of gret disport,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_26" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_26"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_26" class="marker">26</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And peynede hir to countrefet&euml; cheere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of court, and ben estatlich of manere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to ben holden digne of reverence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But for to speken of hir conscience,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche was so charitable and so pitous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sche wold&euml; weepe if that sche saw a mous<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smal&euml; hound&euml;s hadde sche, that sche fedde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel breed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if men<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_27" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_27"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_27" class="marker">27</a> smot it with a yerd&euml; smerte:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And al was conscience and tendre herte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful sem&euml;ly hire wympel i-pynched was;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir nose tretys; hir ey&euml;n greye as glas;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>[<a href="./images/292.png">292</a>]</span><span class="i0">It was almost a spann&euml; brood, I trowe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hardily sche was not undergrowe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smal coral aboute hir arm sche bar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A peire of bed&euml;s gauded al with grene;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And theron heng a broch of gold ful schene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which was first i-write a crown&euml;d A,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after, <i>Amor vincit omnia.</i><a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_28" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_28"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_28" class="marker">28</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another <span class="smcap">Nonne</span> with hir hadd&euml; sche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was hir chapeleyne,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_29" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_29"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_29" class="marker">29</a> and <span class="smcap">Prestes</span> thre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Monk</span> ther was, a fair for the maistry&euml;,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_30" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_30"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_30" class="marker">30</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An out-rydere, that loved&euml; venery&euml;;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A manly man, to ben an abbot able.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful many a deynt&eacute; hors hadde he in stable:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whan he rood, men mighte his bridel heere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gynglen in a whistlyng wynd as cleere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek as lowde as doth the chapel belle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This ilk&euml; monk leet old&euml; thing&euml;s pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And held after the new&euml; world the space.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He yaf nat of that text a pull&euml;d hen,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_31" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_31"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_31" class="marker">31</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seith, that hunters been noon holy men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne that a monk, whan he is recch&euml;les<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is likned to a fissch that is waterles<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_32" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_32"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_32" class="marker">32</a>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thilk&euml; text held he not worth an oystre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I seide his opinioun was good.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_33" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_33"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_33" class="marker">33</a> schulde he studie, and make himselven wood,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_34" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_34"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_34" class="marker">34</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a book in cloystre alway to powre.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or swynk&euml; with his hand&euml;s, and laboure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Austyn bit? How schal the world be serv&euml;d?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>[<a href="./images/293.png">293</a>]</span><span class="i0">Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserv&euml;d.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therfor he was a pricasour aright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Greyhoundes he hadde as swifte as fowel in flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_35" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_35"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_35" class="marker">35</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saugh his slev&euml;s purfiled att&euml; honde<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With grys, and that the fyneste of a londe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for to festne his hood under his chynne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hadde of gold y-wrought a curious pynne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A love-knot in the grettere ende ther was.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heed was balled, that schon as eny glas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek his face, as he hadde ben anoynt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ey&euml;n steepe, and rollyng in his heede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stem&euml;de as a forneys of a leede;<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_36" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_36"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_36" class="marker">36</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His boot&euml;s souple, his hors in gret estat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now certeinly he was a fair prelat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was not pale as a for-pyned goost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fat swan lovede he best of eny roost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Frere</span> there was, a wantown and a merye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lymytour,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_37" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_37"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_37" class="marker">37</a> a ful solempn&euml; man.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In alle the ordres foure<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_38" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_38"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_38" class="marker">38</a> is noon that can<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So moche of daliaunce and fair langage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hadde i-mad ful many a mariage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yong&euml; wymmen, at his ow&euml;n cost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto his ordre he was a noble post.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_39" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_39"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_39" class="marker">39</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful wel biloved and famulier was he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With frankeleyns<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_40" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_40"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_40" class="marker">40</a> over-al in his cuntre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eek with worthy wommen of the toun:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hadde power of confessioun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As seyde himself, mor&euml; than a curat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of his ordre he was licentiat.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_41" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_41"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_41" class="marker">41</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>[<a href="./images/294.png">294</a>]</span><span class="i0">Ful swet&euml;ly herde he confessioun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plesaunt was his absolucioun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was an esy man to yeve penaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther as he wist&euml; han<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_42" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_42"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_42" class="marker">42</a> a good pitaunce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For unto a poure ordre for to yive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is sign&euml; that a man is wel i-schrive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if he yaf, he dorst&euml; make avaunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wist&euml; that a man was repentaunt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many a man so hard is of his herte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may not wepe although him sor&euml; smerte.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therfore in stede of wepyng and preyeres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_43" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_43"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_43" class="marker">43</a> moot yive silver to the pour&euml; freres.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His typet was ay fars&euml;d ful of knyfes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pynn&euml;s, for to yiv&euml; fair&euml; wyfes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And certeynly he hadde a mery note;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel couthe he synge and pleyen on a rote.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yeddynges he bar utterly the prys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His nekk&euml; whit was as the flour-de-lys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therto he strong was as a champioun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew the tavernes wel in every toun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And everych hostiler and tappestere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bet then a lazer, or a beggestere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For unto such a worthy man as he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acorded not, as by his facult&eacute;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To han with sik&euml; lazars aqueyntaunce.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not honest, it may not avaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For to delen with no such poraille,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al with riche, and sellers of vitaille.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_44" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_44"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_44" class="marker">44</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And overal, ther as profyt schulde arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was the best&euml; beggere in his hous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though a widewe hadd&euml; noght oo schoo,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>[<a href="./images/295.png">295</a>]</span><span class="i0">So plesaunt was his <i>In principio</i>,<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_45" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_45"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_45" class="marker">45</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet wolde he have a ferthing or he wente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His purchas<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_46" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_46"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_46" class="marker">46</a> was wel better than his rente.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rage he couthe as it were right a whelpe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lov&euml;-day&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_47" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_47"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_47" class="marker">47</a> couthe he mochel helpe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ther he was not lik a cloysterer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a thredbare cope as is a poure scoler,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he was lik a maister or a pope.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of double worsted was his semy-cope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That rounded as a belle out of the presse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Somwhat he lipsede, for his wantownesse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make his Englissch swete upon his tunge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde sunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ey&euml;n twynkled in his heed aright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As don the sterr&euml;s in the frosty night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Marchaunt</span> was ther with a fork&euml;d berd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In mott&euml;leye, and hign on hors he sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his heed a Flaundrisch bevere hat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His bot&euml;s clapsed faire and fetysly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His resons he spak ful solempn&euml;ly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sownynge alway the encres of his wynnynge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wolde the see were kept for<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_48" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_48"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_48" class="marker">48</a> eny thinge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betwix&euml; Middelburgh and Or&euml;welle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wel couthe he in eschaung&euml; scheeld&euml;s<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_49" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_49"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_49" class="marker">49</a> selle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This worthi man ful wel his wit bisette;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ther wist&euml; no wight that he was in dette,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So estatly was he of governaunce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his bargayns, and with his chevysaunce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sothe he was a worthy man withalle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But soth to sayn, I not how men him calle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A <span class="smcap">Clerk</span> ther was of Oxenford<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_50" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_50"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_50" class="marker">50</a> also,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That unto logik hadd&euml; longe i-go.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>[<a href="./images/296.png">296</a>]</span><span class="i0">As len&euml; was his hors as is a rake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was not right<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_51" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_51"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_51" class="marker">51</a> fat, I undertake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lok&euml;de holwe, and therto soberly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he hadde geten him yit no benefice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne was so worldly for to have office.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him was levere have at his bedd&euml;s heede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twenty book&euml;s, clad in blak or reede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Aristotle and his philosophy&euml;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then rob&euml;s riche, or fithel, or gay sawtry&euml;.<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_52" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_52"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_52" class="marker">52</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al be that he was a philosophre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet hadd&euml; he but litel gold in cofre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But al that he mighte of his frend&euml;s hente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On book&euml;s and on lernyng he it spente,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And busily gan for the soul&euml;s preye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hem that yaf him wherwith to scoleye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of studie took he most cure and most heede.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not oo word spak he mor&euml; than was neede,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that was seid in forme and reverence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And schort and quyk, and ful of high sentence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sownynge<a name="marker_From_the_Prologue_53" id="marker_From_the_Prologue_53"></a><a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_53" class="marker">53</a> in moral vertu was his speche,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table summary="Vocabulary list for Prologue to the Canterbury Tales" style="margin-left: 15%;" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="4" border="0">
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdcenter" colspan="2" style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">GLOSSARY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ageyn</b>, against.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>kouthe</b>, known.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>arive</b>, disembarkment.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>leede</b>, cauldron.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>aventure</b>, chance.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>leste</b>, pleasure.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ay</b>, always.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>levere</b>, rather.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bar</b>, bore.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>lipsede</b>, lisped.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bawdrick</b>, baldric.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>luste</b>, pleased.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ben</b>, to be.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maistrye</b>, mastery.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bit</b>, biddeth.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>maner</b>, kind.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>byfel</b>, it happened.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mede</b>, meadow.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>bysmotered</b>, smutted.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>mete</b>, meals, eating.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>carf</b>, carved.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>motteleye</b>, mixed colors.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cheere</b>, manner.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>nightertale</b>, night-time.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>chevysaunce</b>, loans, bargains.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>noon</b>, not one, not at all.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft" style="padding-right: 5em;"><b>chivachye</b>, military expedition.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>not-heed</b>, shorn-head.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>clapsed</b>, clasped.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pace</b>, pass.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cleped</b>, called.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>peyned</b>, took pains.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>clerk</b>, a scholar.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pitous</b>, full of pity.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>corage</b>, heart.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pocok</b>, peacock.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>[<a href="./images/297.png">297</a>]</span><b>courtepy</b>, cloak.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>poraille</b>, poor folks.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cowde</b>, knew.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>pricasour</b>, hard rider.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>crulle</b>, curled.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>priketh</b>, incites, spurs.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>cure</b>, care.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>prys</b>, reputation, worth.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>delyver</b>, active.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>purfiled</b>, embroidered.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>devyse</b>, speak of.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>purtreye</b>, paint.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>digne</b>, worthy.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>raughte</b>, reached.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>don</b>, do.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reccheles</b>, reckless.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>eek</b>, also.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>reysed</b>, ridden.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>embrowded</b>, embroidered.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>rote</b>, a musical instrument.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>encres</b>, increase.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sawtreye</b>, psaltery.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>everychon</b>, every one, all.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>schene</b>, bright.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>farsed</b>, stuffed.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>scoleye</b>, attend school.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferne</b>, distant, foreign.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>seeke</b>, sick.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferre</b>, farther.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>semely</b>, becomingly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ferthing</b>, small portion.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sikerly</b>, surely.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fetysly</b>, neatly, well.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>somdel</b>, somewhat.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>fithel</b>, fiddle.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sondry</b>, different kinds.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>Flaundrische</b>, Flemish.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sothly</b>, truly.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flotynge</b>, fluting, playing.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>souple</b>, pliant.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>flour-de-lys</b>, fleur-de-lis.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sovereyn</b>, excellent.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>forster</b>, forester.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>sowning</b>, boasting.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>for-pyned</b>, much wasted.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>steepe</b>, bright.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>frere</b>, friar.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>[<a href="./images/298.png">298</a>]</span><b>streit</b>, strict.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gawded</b>, having gawds.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>swich</b>, such.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gepoun</b>, short cassock.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>swynke</b>, toil.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>goost</b>, ghost.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>thilke</b>, this.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>grys</b>, fur.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>tretys</b>, slender.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>gynglen</b>, jingling.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>venerye</b>, hunting.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>habergeoun</b>, hawberk.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>viage</b>, journey.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>halwes</b>, shrines (holies).</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wastel breed</b>, cake bread.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>heethe</b>, heath, meadow.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wenden</b>, go.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>hem</b>, them.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>werre</b>, war.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>here</b>, their.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wight</b>, person.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>heute</b>, borrow.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wiste</b>, knew.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>holpen</b>, helped.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wood</b>, mad, foolish.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>holte</b>, wood.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>wympel</b>, wimple.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>i-falle</b>, fallen.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yaf</b>, gave.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>ilke</b>, same.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yeddynges</b>, gleemen's songs.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>i-ronne</b>, ran.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yemanly</b>, yeoman-like.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>juste</b>, joust.</td>
+  <td class="tdleft"><b>yerde</b>, stick.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>NOTES.</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_1" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_1"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_1">1.</a> <b>in the Ram.</b> In the constellation Aries. "There is a difference, in
+astronomy, between the <i>sign</i> Aries and the <i>constellation</i> Aries. In
+April the sun is theoretically in the sign Taurus, but visibly in the
+constellation Aries."&mdash;<i>Morris.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_2" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_2"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_2">2.</a> <b>i-ronne.</b> Run. The prefix <i>i-</i> or <i>y-</i> is equivalent to the A.-S. or
+German <i>ge</i>, and usually denotes the past participle.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_3" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_3"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_3">3.</a> <b>seeken.</b> The infinitive in early English ended in <i>n</i>, usually in
+<i>en</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_4" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_4"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_4">4.</a> <b>martir.</b> Thomas &agrave; Becket, who was slain at Canterbury in 1170. He was
+canonized by Pope Alexander III. as St. Thomas of Canterbury.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_5" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_5"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_5">5.</a> <b>seeke.</b> Sick, ill. At the present time the English restrict the use of
+the word "sick" to nausea, and regard it in its original and broader
+signification as an "Americanism."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_6" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_6"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_6">6.</a> <b>Tabard.</b> A tabard is "a jaquet or slevelesse coat worne in times past
+by noblemen in the warres, but now only by heraults. It is the signe of
+an inne in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the
+Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This is the hostelrie where Chaucer and the
+other pilgrims mett together and accorded about the manner of their
+journey to Canterbury."&mdash;<i>Speght.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_7" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_7"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_7">7.</a> <b>stables.</b> Standing-places (Lat. <i>sto</i>, to stand); meaning here the
+public rooms of the inn.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_8" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_8"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_8">8.</a> <b>Or.</b> Before, ere (A.-S. <i>aer</i>, ere). Compare Psalm xc. 2.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_9" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_9"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_9">9.</a> <b>condicioun.</b> A word of four syllables, accented on the last.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_10" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_10"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_10">10.</a> <b>chyvalrye.</b> The profession of a knight.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_11" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_11"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_11">11.</a> <b>heth&euml;nesse.</b> Heathen countries. From <i>heath</i>, the open country. "The
+word <i>heathen</i> acquired its meaning from the fact that, at the
+introduction of Christianity into Germany, the wild dwellers on the
+heaths longest resisted the truth."&mdash;<i>Trench.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>[<a href="./images/299.png">299</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_12" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_12"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_12">12.</a> <b>Alisaundre.</b> Alexandria was taken in 1365 by Pierre de Lusignan,
+king of Cyprus, but was very soon abandoned.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_13" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_13"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_13">13.</a> <b>he hadde the bord bygonne.</b> "He had been placed at the head of the
+table, the usual compliment to extraordinary merit."&mdash;<i>Tyrwhitt.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_14" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_14"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_14">14.</a> <b>Pruce.</b> Prussia. "When our military men wanted employment it was
+usual for them to go and serve in <i>Pruce</i>, or Prussia, with the Knights
+of the Teutonic order, who were in a state of constant warfare with
+their heathen neighbours in Lettow (Lithuania) and Ruse
+(Russia)."&mdash;<i>Tyrwhitt.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_15" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_15"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_15">15.</a> <b>Gernade.</b> Grenada, probably at the siege of Algezir, in that country,
+in 1344. Belmarie was probably a Moorish town in Africa, as also was
+Tramassene, mentioned below. Lieys was in Armenia. Both it and Satalie
+(Attalia) were conquered by Pierre de Lusignan in 1367.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_16" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_16"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_16">16.</a> <b>Greet&euml; see.</b> That part of the Mediterranean which washes the coast of
+Palestine.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_17" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_17"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_17">17.</a> <b>lord of Palatye.</b> A Christian knight who kept possession of his lands
+by paying tribute to the Turks.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_18" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_18"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_18">18.</a> <b>no maner wight.</b> No sort of person. In early English the preposition
+was often omitted after <i>manner</i>. Observe the double negatives in these
+two lines.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_19" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_19"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_19">19.</a> <b>bacheler.</b> "A soldier not old or rich enough to lead his relations
+into battle with a banner. The original sense of the word is <i>little</i>,
+<i>small</i>, <i>young</i>, from Welsh <i>bach</i>."&mdash;<i>Webster.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_20" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_20"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_20">20.</a> <b>floytynge.</b> Fluting. So, in Chaucer's "House of Fame," he says:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And many a floyte and litlyng horne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0i">And pipes made of grene corne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_21" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_21"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_21">21.</a> <b>he.</b> That is, the knight. The word <i>yeman</i>, or <i>yeoman</i>, is an
+abbreviation of <i>yeongeman</i>. As used by Chaucer, it means a servant of a
+rank above that of groom, but below that of squire. The present use of
+the word to signify a small landholder is of more modern origin.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_22" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_22"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_22">22.</a> <b>pocok arw&euml;s.</b> Arrows tipped with peacock feathers.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_23" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_23"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_23">23.</a> <b>bracer.</b> A kind of close sleeve laced upon the arm. "A bracer serveth
+for two causes, one to save his arme from the strype of the stringe, and
+his doublet from wearing; and the other is, that the stringe glidinge
+sharplye and quicklye off the bracer, maye make the sharper
+shoote."&mdash;<i>Roger Ascham's Toxophilus</i>, page 129.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_24" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_24"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_24">24.</a> <b>Cristofre.</b> An image of St. Christopher, which was thought to protect
+its wearer from hidden danger.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_25" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_25"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_25">25.</a> <b>seynt Loy.</b> St. Eloy, or Eligius.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_26" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_26"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_26">26.</a> <b>of gret disport.</b> Fond of gayety.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_27" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_27"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_27">27.</a> <b>men.</b> This word as here used is an indefinite pronoun equivalent to
+<i>one</i>, or <i>any one</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a>[<a href="./images/300.png">300</a>]</span>
+<a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_28" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_28"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_28">28.</a> "Love conquers all things."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_29" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_29"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_29">29.</a> <b>chapeleyne.</b> Probably <i>assistant</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_30" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_30"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_30">30.</a> <b>a fair for the maistry&euml;.</b> A fair one for the chief place.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_31" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_31"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_31">31.</a> "He would not give a pulled hen for that text"; that is, "he cared
+not a straw for it." Pulled = pylled = pilled = plucked.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_32" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_32"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_32">32.</a> <b>waterles.</b> Out of water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_33" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_33"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_33">33.</a> <b>what.</b> Why, wherefore.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_34" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_34"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_34">34.</a> <b>wood.</b> Mad. Scotch <i>wud</i>, wild.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"An' just as wud as wud can be."&mdash;<i>Burns.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_35" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_35"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_35">35.</a> <b>no cost wolde he spare.</b> For this pleasure he spared no expense.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_36" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_36"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_36">36.</a> "That shone like the fire under a cauldron."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_37" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_37"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_37">37.</a> <b>lymytour.</b> One who was licensed to beg within a limited territory.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_38" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_38"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_38">38.</a> <b>ordres foure.</b> The Dominicans, the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and
+the Augustine Friars.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_39" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_39"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_39">39.</a> <b>post.</b> Pillar, support. Compare with the modern expression, "A pillar
+of the church."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_40" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_40"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_40">40.</a> <b>frankeleyns.</b> Country gentlemen; wealthy landholders.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_41" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_41"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_41">41.</a> <b>licentiat.</b> He had license from the pope to grant absolution in all
+cases. A curate's powers did not extend so far.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_42" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_42"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_42">42.</a> "Where he knew he would have."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_43" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_43"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_43">43.</a> See note <a href="#Note_From_the_Prologue_27">27</a>, above.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_44" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_44"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_44">44.</a> <b>sellers of vitaille.</b> Givers of food, or a livelihood. The original
+meaning of the word <i>sell</i> was to <i>give</i>. From A.-S. <i>syllan</i>, to give.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_45" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_45"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_45">45.</a> "In the beginning." The first words of St. John's Gospel in the
+Vulgate.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_46" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_46"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_46">46.</a> <b>purchas.</b> Income from begging.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_47" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_47"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_47">47.</a> <b>lov&euml;-day&euml;s.</b> Days appointed for the amicable settlement of
+differences, without recourse to law.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_48" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_48"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_48">48.</a> "He wished the sea were guarded." <b>Middelburgh</b>, a port in the
+Netherlands. <b>Or&euml;welle</b>, a port in Essex.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_49" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_49"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_49">49.</a> <b>scheeld&euml;s.</b> French crowns marked with a shield. Shillings.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_50" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_50"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_50">50.</a> <b>Oxenford.</b> Not the "ford of the ox," but the "ford of the river."
+<i>Ox</i>, from Celtic <i>esk</i>, <i>ouse</i>, water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_51" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_51"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_51">51.</a> The word <i>right</i> used, as here, in the sense of <i>very</i> is now
+considered a vulgarism. "A Southerner would say, 'It rains right
+hard.'"&mdash;<i>Bartlett.</i></p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_52" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_52"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_52">52.</a> <b>sawtry&euml;.</b> Psaltery, a Greek instrument of music.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Note_From_the_Prologue_53" id="Note_From_the_Prologue_53"></a><a href="#marker_From_the_Prologue_53">53.</a> <b>sownynge.</b> Sounding; that is, in consonance with. <b>Sentence</b> = sense.
+So, also, construe <b>forme</b> and <b>reverence</b>, above, as meaning <i>propriety and
+modesty</i>.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>[<a href="./images/301.png">301</a>]</span></p>
+<h3>ON READING CHAUCER.</h3>
+
+<p>"'How few there are who can read Chaucer so as to understand him
+perfectly,' says Dryden, apologizing for 'translating' him. In our day,
+with the wider spread of historical study, with the numerous helps to
+Old English that the care of scholars has produced for us, with the
+purification that Chaucer's text has undergone, this saying of Dryden's
+ought not to be true. It ought to be not only possible, but easy, for an
+educated reader to learn the few essentials of Chaucerian grammar, and
+for an ear at all trained to poetry to tune itself to the unfamiliar
+harmonies. For those who make the attempt the reward is certain. They
+will gain the knowledge, not only of the great poet and creative genius,
+but of the master who uses our language with a power, a freedom, a
+variety, a rhythmic beauty, that, in five centuries, not ten of his
+successors have been found able to rival."&mdash;<i>T. H. Ward.</i></p>
+
+<p>The peculiarities of diction and grammar which distinguish Chaucer's
+poetry seem to make its reading and comprehension difficult and often
+discourage the student at the outset. A very little study, however, will
+show that the difficulties in the way are not nearly so great as they at
+first appear, and, after a little patient practice in reading, they will
+disappear entirely. By observing the following rules you will soon
+acquire the ability to read with a fluency which will be highly pleasing
+to you:</p>
+
+<p>1. Final <i>e</i> should be pronounced as a separate syllable whenever the
+metre demands it.</p>
+
+<p>2. In all words of French origin, such as vis&aacute;ge, cor&aacute;ge, mani&eacute;r, the
+final syllable is accented.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest difficulty in reading Chaucer arises from the antiquated
+manner in which the words are spelled; but if the reader will change an
+occasional <i>y</i> to <i>i</i>, and drop a final <i>e</i> or a final <i>n</i>, here and
+there, the words which seemed at first so strange will appear more
+familiar to the eye and the understanding.</p>
+
+
+<h3>BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Geoffrey Chaucer</span>, "the morning-star of English poetry," was born in
+London in 1328,&mdash;according to some authorities, in 1340. He was the son
+of a vintner, and at an early age became acquainted with many persons of
+distinction. He was a page in the household of Prince Lionel, and
+afterwards valet and squire to Edward III. In 1372 he was sent abroad as
+a royal envoy, and on his return he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a>[<a href="./images/302.png">302</a>]</span>was made Controller of the Customs
+In London. In the meantime he had married Philippa Rouet, one of the
+queen's maids of honor, a sister to the wife of John of Gaunt. Being
+thus closely related to one of the most powerful members of the royal
+family, he was often employed in important and honorable commissions
+connected with the government. In 1386 he was member of Parliament for
+Kent, and in 1389 was appointed Clerk of the King's Works, at Windsor.
+He died in 1400, and was buried in Westminster Abbey,&mdash;"the first of the
+long line of poets whose ashes make that edifice illustrious." His
+poetical history has been divided by Mr. Furnivall into four periods:
+(1) up to 1371, during which he wrote the "A B C" the "Compleynte to
+Pit&eacute;," the "Boke of the Duchesse," and the "Compleynte of Mars"; (2)
+from 1372 to 1381, which saw the production of "Troylus and Criseyde,"
+"Anelida," and the "Former Age"; (3) from 1381 to 1389, during which his
+best works appeared, the "Parlament of Foules," the "House of Fame," the
+"Legende of Goode Women," and some of the "Canterbury Tales"; (4) from
+1389 to the close of his life, in which period the remainder of the
+"Canterbury Tales" and some short poems were written.</p>
+
+<p>M. Taine says, "Chaucer is like a jeweller with his hands full; pearls
+and glass beads, sparkling diamonds and common agates, black jet and
+ruby roses, all that history and imagination had been able to gather and
+fashion during three centuries in the East, in France, in Wales, in
+Provence, in Italy, all that had rolled his way, clashed together,
+broken or polished by the stream of centuries, and by the grand jumble
+of human memory, he holds in his hand, arranges it, composes therefrom a
+long sparkling ornament, with twenty pendants, a thousand facets, which
+by its splendor, variety, contrasts, may attract and satisfy the eyes of
+those most greedy for amusement and novelty."</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><b>Other Poems to be Read:</b> The Knight's Tale; The Clerk's Tale; The Man of
+Law's Tale; The Legende of Goode Women; The Parlament of Foules; The
+House of Fame; Chaucer's A B C.</p>
+
+
+<p class="section"><span class="smcap">References:</span> Lowell's <i>My Study Windows</i>; Marsh's <i>Origin and History of
+the English Language</i>; Charles Cowden Clarke's <i>The Riches of Chaucer</i>;
+Morley's <i>English Writers</i>, vol. v; Carpenter's <i>English of the XIV
+Century</i>; Taine's <i>English Literature</i>; Lounsbury's <i>Studies in
+Chaucer</i>; Hazlitt's <i>English Poets</i>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>[<a href="./images/303.png">303</a>]</span></p>
+<h2>INDEX TO NOTES.</h2>
+
+
+<ul class="list">
+<li>accloyes, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>afoir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>aft, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Age of Gold, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ajax, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Akenside, Mark, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>amaist, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ance, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Annus Mirabilis," <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+
+<li>antickes, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aonian, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Apollo, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>apparelled, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arthur's Seat, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Arvon, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ashtaroth, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>assay, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>assuasive, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>awfull, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>axle-tree, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ay, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Aytoun, William Edmondstoune, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Baalim, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bacchus, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bairns, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>baldric, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ballads, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beattie, James, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bedight, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>beets, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>belyve, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ben, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bield, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>birkie, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blair, Robert, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blake, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>blate, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>blinkin, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Boadicea, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li>
+
+<li>boding, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bonnet, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bracer, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>brae, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>braw, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>bray, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browne, William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>brutish, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bulwer-Lytton, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>burn-side, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Burns, Robert, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li>
+
+<li>busk, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>buskin, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Butler, Samuel, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ca', <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cambria, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Camelot, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Camilla, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Campbell, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cannie, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Carew, Thomas, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>carking, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>castamergia, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cataracts, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>[<a href="./images/304.png">304</a>]</span>Chapman, George, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chaucer, Geoffrey, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chepe, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Christabel, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Churchill, Charles, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>chyvalrye, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>claes, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clarius, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>close, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clough, Arthur Hugh, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Collins, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>conceit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>concern, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>consort, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>convoy, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coof, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coot, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>coronal, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cotter, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cowley, Abraham, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cowper, William, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Crabbe, George, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>cracks, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Crashaw, Richard, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>craws, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>crew, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cristofre, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>crynis, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cynthia, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>d&aelig;dal, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Daniel, Samuel, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Darius, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>darkling, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Davenant, Sir William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Davies, Sir John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>deid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Delphos, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>demi-gods, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Denham, Sir John, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>denty, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>deposit, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dicht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>docht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Donne, John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Douglas, Gawain, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dragon, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Drayton, Michael, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Drummond, William, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dryad, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dryden, John, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dunbar, William, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dusk, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dyer, John, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>dyght, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>effeires, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Elysian, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ene, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Epipsychidion, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ere, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>esperance, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>eydent, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>eyn, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>fallow, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fassoun, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fates, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fauns, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>feid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fell, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fergusson, Robert, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Flamins, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fletcher, Giles, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>flichterin, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>floytynge, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fois, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>fond, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>foreland, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>forgit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>forgoes, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>frankeleyns, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fungoso, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Furies, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>galaxy, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>garmond, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gars, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Garth, Samuel, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a>[<a href="./images/305.png">305</a>]</span>Gascoigne, George, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gauge, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gay, John, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>genius, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gere, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gernad&eacute;, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gife, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>glaiding, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>glinted, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gloir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gloster, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Glover, Richard, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Goldsmith, Oliver, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li>
+
+<li>governance, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gowd, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gower, John, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>grant, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Gray, Thomas, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gree, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Green, Matthew, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Greene, Robert, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>greete, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>griesly, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>grisly, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>gross, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>guerdoun, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ha'-bible, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>haffets, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hafflins, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>halcyons, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hall, Joseph, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hals-ribbane, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>halsit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hammon, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>harbinger, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hauberk, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>haut-boys, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hawes, Stephen, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hawkie, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Henryson, Robert, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herbert, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hern, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Herrick, Robert, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hesperus, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hethenesse, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hinges, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hippocrene, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>histie, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hoel, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hoiss, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hood, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Howard, Henry, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hud, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hunt, Leigh, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hyed, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>hymeneal, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ilk, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>influence, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ingle, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ionian, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ipocras, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>i-ronne, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Isis, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>its, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ixion, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Japhet, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Johnson, Samuel, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>jollity, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Jonson, Ben, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Keats, John, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kebbuck, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>key, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Kingsley, Charles, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kirtill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>kye, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>laif, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Landor, Walter Savage, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Langland, William, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lasit, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lathefu', <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lave, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lawn, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lays, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lemys, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lesum, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lethe, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>[<a href="./images/306.png">306</a>]</span>letted, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li>
+
+<li>licentiate, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lichtlie, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lodge, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>love-days, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lovelace, Richard, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lucifer, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lufe, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lukit, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lyart, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lydgate, John, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lydian, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lyly, John, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lymytour, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>lyst, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Macaulay, Thomas B., <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>M&aelig;nalus, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+<li>maiden (<i>adj.</i>), <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mailyheis, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mansuetude, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marlowe, Christopher, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>martir, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Marvell, Andrew, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>May, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mekill, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mend, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"Meredith, Owen," <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Milnes, Richard Monckton, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Milton, John, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>moil, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Moore, Thomas, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>morrow, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mortimer, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>mould, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>muddir, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mulciber, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Muses, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>neibor, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>noise, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>numbers, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Occleve, Thomas, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li>
+
+<li>or, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>oracles, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>organs, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Orpheus, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Orus, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Oxenford, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Osiris, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>pad, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Palatye, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pan, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pansy, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pansing, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>paramour, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pards, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parnassus, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parnell, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>passing, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li>
+
+<li>patelet, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>peir, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Peneus, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>penny-fee, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Peor, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pescodes, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>philargyria, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Phlegethon, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pies, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pine (<i>v.</i>), <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Plinlimmon, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>plum, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pope, Alexander, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li>
+
+<li>pourall, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>prevent, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Procter, Adelaide, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Procter, Bryan Waller, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>profuse, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Prothalamion, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Proven&ccedil;al, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pruce, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>.</li>
+
+<li>puissance, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>quality, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhen, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhois, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhome, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>quhyll, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>[<a href="./images/307.png">307</a>]</span>Raleigh, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ramsay, Allan, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>reedes (<i>v.</i>), <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>reid, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>requiem, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rewth, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Rhodope, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Robin Hood, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rois, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>rutty, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>ryshes, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>sacerdotal, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sackville, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Saint Agnes, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Saint Cecilia, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li>
+
+<li>salvage, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sanct, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sandys, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sark, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sawtrye, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>scho, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>schone, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeke, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeken, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seeliest, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seill, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>seraphim, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>session, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>set, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shakespeare, William, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shelley, Percy B., <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li>
+
+<li>shend, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Shenstone, William, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sic, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sickerness, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sidney, Philip, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sileni, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>silly, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Simo&iuml;s, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li>
+
+<li>simonia, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sisyphus, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>site, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Skelton, John, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>skylark, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Snowdon, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li>
+
+<li>socks, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sort, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Southey, Robert, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sovran, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sowninge, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sowpe, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sparks, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>speiris, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Spenser, Edmund, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sphear, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spiers, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>splene, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>spread, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sprite, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stables, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stacher, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stage, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Star Chamber, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>steep, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>store, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>stoure, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>strook, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Styx, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Suckling, Sir John, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>sugh, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Surrey, Earl of, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Swan of Avon, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li>
+
+<li>swindges, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sylvans, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Syrinx, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Tabard, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tabor, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Taliessin, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tennyson, Alfred, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tentie, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tepat, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>terms, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thais, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thammuz, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tholl, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thomson, James, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>thorps, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>thrissil, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>[<a href="./images/308.png">308</a>]</span>till, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Timotheus, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li>
+
+<li>"tirra lirra," <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Titans, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tmolus, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>toil, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>trailed, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>train, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>trump, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>turtle, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>tynis, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Typhon, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>udir, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>uncos, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>undersong, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li>
+
+<li>unexpressive, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>Vaughan, Henry, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>vermeil, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>wales, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Waller, Edmund, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Warner, William, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>warp, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Warton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Watson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weet, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weid, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weiris, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weit, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>weltering, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>which, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>whilome, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>whist, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wicht, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wight, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wilding, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wiles, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wisards, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wit, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wither, George, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wold, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wonne, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wont, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wood, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wordsworth, William, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>wrought, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wyatt, Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li>
+
+
+<li>&nbsp;</li>
+<li>ychain'd, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>yede, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>yode, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Young, Edward, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>.</li>
+
+<li>youngling, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+
+<li>'yont, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="notebox">
+<a name="TN" id="TN"></a><h2>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2>
+
+<p>Ellipses match the original.</p>
+
+<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the orginal.</p>
+
+<p>Page 14 is blank in the original.</p>
+
+<p>The following corrections have been made to the text:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>Page 79: Dante's <i>Vita Nuova</i>.[original has extraneous quotation mark]</p>
+
+<p>Page 81: full age of man, he might not[original has extraneous comma]
+improbably</p>
+
+<p>Page 124: Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,[original has
+superscripted 1 at the end of the line]</p>
+
+<p>Page 146: <i>Shakespeare</i>, <i>King Lear</i>, Act i[original has ii] sc. i.</p>
+
+<p>Page 146: versification of the "Faerie Queene," page 232[original has 234]</p>
+
+<p>Page 303: chyvalrye[original has chyvalyre], 298.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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