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diff --git a/30235-0.txt b/30235-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49c79db --- /dev/null +++ b/30235-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13102 @@ +*** 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 *** |