THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^ //V n VESPERTILIA AND OTHER VERSES VNIFORM WITH THIS. A SUMMER NIGHT AND OTHER POEMS. By Rosamund Marriott Watson. New Edition, With decor- ative Title-page. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. VEJ-PERTILLAJ AND OTHER.VER-rEJ" BY RO/ANVND MAR: RIO^^^ W/XTJbN AVTMCR OF A J*VMMER MIGHT And THE BIRD-BRIDE' R. MW LONDON JOHN LANE THE B->DLEY HEAD CHICAGO ••■WAV AND WILL! AM J- MDCCCXCV ^m Of tills Edition, 650 copies have been printed for England and America Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty ?R to ALICE MEYNELL THESE VERSES ARE INSCRIBED IN SINCERE ADMIRATION AND FRIENDSHIP a 2 CONTENTS Vespertilia, ..... PAGE I The City of Dream, .... 7 Hie Jacet, lO After Sunset, ..... 12 A Song of Shipwreck, 14 The Lamp in the Pool, IS Marchen, ..... 18 Walpurgis, ..... 20 Fantasy, ... ... 22 Blackbird's Song, .... 25 Vale, 27 Armistice, ..... 29 Gloria Mundi, ..... 32 The Prodigal Son, .... 34 viil CONTENTS PAGE D'Outremer, ..... 38 On Lethe Wharf, .... 39 A Song of London, .... 41 Nocturn, ..... 45 London in October, .... 44 Rus in Urbe, ..... 47 At Kensal Green Cemetery, January 2 I St, 1892, 49 The Wind's Summons, 52 Finis, ...... S5 At Evening, ..... 56 The Golden Hour, .... S8 Ex Umbra, ..... 60 Sheep-Bells, ..... 61 In the Valley, 63 Ave atque Vale, .... 64 In Blue and Gold, .... dS A Midnight Harvest, .... 67 CONTENTS IX PAGE Mirage, 70 Sunset on Hennacliff, 71 Traveller's Joy, 75 Epitaph, .... 75 The Valley of the Thorn, . 71 Neiges d'Antan, 81 Open Sesame, . 85 Ephemeron, 8s Requiescat, .... 87 The White Knight, . 88 Our Lady's Penitent, 90 The Wrecker of Priest's Cove, . 92 The Quern of the Giants, . ^7 The Isle of Voices, . HI VES PERTILI A AND OTHER VERSES VESPERTILIA In the late autumn's dusky-golden prime, When sickles gleam and rusts the idle plough, The time of apples dropping from the bough, And yellow leaves on sycamore and lime ; O'er grassy uplands far above the sea Often at twilight would my footsteps fare, And oft I met a stranger-woman there Who stayed and spake with me : Hard by the ancient barrow smooth and green. Whose rounded burg swells dark upon the sky Lording it high o'er dusky dell and dene. We wandered — she and I. A VESPERTILIA Ay, many a time as came the evening hour And the red moon rose up behind the sheaves, I found her straying by that barren bower. Her fair face glimmering like a white wood-flower That gleams through withered leaves, Her mouth was redder than the pimpernel, Her eyes seemed darker than the purple air 'Neath brows half hidden — I remember well — 'Mid mists of cloudy hair. And all about her breast, around her head. Was wound a wide veil shadowing cheek and chin. Woven like the ancient grave-gear of the dead : A twisted clasp and pin Confined her long blue mantle's heavy fold Of splendid tissue dropping to decay, Faded like some rich raiment worn of old. With rents and tatters gaping to the day. Her sandals wrought about with threads of gold, VESPERTILIA Scarce held together still, so worn were they, Yet sewn with winking gems of green and blue, And pale as pearls her naked feet shone through. And all her talk was of some outland rare. Where myrtles blossom by the blue sea's rim, And life is ever good and sunny and fair ; 'Long since,' she sighed, 'I sought this island grey — Here, where the winds moan and the sun is dim. When his beaked galleys cleft the ocean spray, For love I followed him.' Once, as we stood, we heard the nightingale Pipe from a thicket on the sheer hillside. Breathless she hearkened, still and marble-pale. Then turned to me with strange eyes open wide — ' Now I remember ! . . . Now I know ! ' said she, ' Love will be life . . . ah, Love /5 Life ! ' she cried, ' And thou — thou lovest me ? ' VESPERTILIA I took her chill hands gently in mine own, ' Dear, but no love is mine to give,' I said, ' My heart is colder than the granite stone That guards my true-love in her grassy bed ; My faith and troth are hers, and hers alone, Are hers . . . and she is dead.' Weeping, she drew her veil about her face, And faint her accents were and dull with pain ; ' Poor Vespertilia ! gone her days of grace, Now doth she plead for love — and plead in vain : None praise her beauty now, or woo her smile ! Ah, hadst thou loved me but a little while, I might have lived again.' Then slowly as a wave along the shore She ghded from me to yon sullen mound ; My frozen heart, relenting, smote me sore — VESPERTILIA Too late — I searched the hollow slopes around, Swiftly I followed her, but nothmg found. Nor saw nor heard her more. And now, alas, my true-love's memory Even as a dream of night-time half-forgot. Fades faint and far from me, And all my thoughts are of the stranger still, Yea, though I loved her not : I loved her not — and yet — I fain would see. Upon the wind-swept hill. Her dark veil fluttering in the autumn breeze ; Fain would I hear her changeful voice awhile. Soft as the wind of spring-tide in the trees, And watch her slow, sweet smile. Ever the thought of her abides with me Unceasing as the murmur of the sea ; VESPERTILIA When the round moon is low and night-birds flit. When sink the stubble-fires with smouldering flame, Over and o'er the sea-wind sighs her name, And the leaves whisper it. ' Poor Vespertilia,' sing the grasses sere, ' Poor Vespertilia,' moans the surf-beat shore ; Almost I feel her very presence near- — Yet she comes nevermore. THE CITY OF DREAM When Spring was mine and all the ways were green, And all the valleys veiled in golden mist, And all the shadows pearl and amethyst. Through the dim maze of morrows unforeseen Fair and far-ghmmering as the dusky fire That lights a pine-wood when the sunset dies — Faint as the cuckoo calling as it flies — Sweet as the Spring's own secret-smitten lyre — Now shining clear with sun-washed roof and spire, Now, wrapped and compassed round with mysteries — A haunted palace bowered in ancient trees — I knew the City of my Heart's Desire. 8 THE CITY OF DREAM Even as a latc-remembercd tryst, it drew My wandering feet forever to the quest : Dreaming, I saw it through the grey dawn dew, Waking, I dreamed for aye to find the clue. Past this tree-shadowed slope— that blue hill's crest — Eager I sought my paradise anew With every sun that fared from east to west. The autumn evening closes, mild and grey. Lit by a fading sunset's narrow gleam, And still to-morrow-wards I turn and say — ' There, pcradventure, I shall find the way ' — And still a strange voice calls by wood and stream. And still the vision glimmers strangely bright — The wide world o'er I wander, wander, yet. And still to-morrow-wards my face is set To seek the city of my heart's delight. THE CITY OF DREAM 9 By pastoral plains with purple rivers twined, By gardens red with amaranth and rose, Where crumbling towns lie steeped in rich repose, The grey towers sleeping in the sun and wind, By gabled street and grassy orchard-close, I go — and all as painted shadows seem — Nor moved to linger, nor to look behind I pass, and many a happy pleasaunce find. But never the town, the country, of my dream. HIC JACET And is it possible ? — and must it be — At last, indifference 'twixt you and me ? We who have loved so well, Must we indeed fall under that strange spell, The tyranny of the grave ? In sullen severance patient and resigned. By each of each forgotten out of mind — Dear, is there none to save ? Must you whose heart makes answer to mine own, Whose voice compels me with its every tone. Must you forget my fealty to claim. And I — to turn and tremble at your name. Sunk in dull slumber ncath a lichened stone ? HIC JACET II Shall not my pulses leap if you be near ? Shall these endure, the sun, the wind, the rain, And naught of all our tenderness remain, Our joy — our hope — our fear ? . . . Sweet, 'tis the one thing certain — rail or weep. Plead or defy, take counsel as we may, It shall not profit us : this, only, pray Of the blind powers that keep The harvest of the years we sow and reap, That naught shall sever nor estrange us — Nay, Let us live out our great love's little day Fair and undimmed, before we fall on sleep. AFTER SUNSET The black downs tower to westward A tomb for the buried sun, The flats of the water meadows Arc fading from green to dun. Dark spreads the vast arena, Swart on tlie yellow light. And out of the gloom and the silence A strange voice cries to the night. Cries — and a strange voice answers, Sudden, and hoarse, and slow. Heavy with pain past telling, The weight of a monstrous woe. AFTER SUNSET 13 Still, as I wait and hearken, I know not which they may be ; Voices of down and marshland, Or the voice of my heart in me. But I know that the cry they echo Was old when the world was young, The plaint of a nameless sorrow Whose speech is an unknown tongue. A SONG OF SHIPWRECK The gull may fly by the clifF-top high, The hovering hawk may soar ; But the carrion crow she bides below, While the drowned folk swim ashore. The drowned souls sail on the autumn gale Between the shore and sea, And there 's never a one beneath the sun Will bear them company. O nowhere bound are the souls of the drowned, Nor seaward nor for shore ; The sun goes west and the grey gulls rest, But the dead rest nevermore. THE LAMP IN THE POOL Far down in the deep, black water A golden lanthorn swings, Whose lustre widens and trembles As tremble the water rings. Above, on the purple twilight The moon in her glory shows, But still with a mellower splendour The lamp in the water glows. Like a love-lamp set in a window On a starless summer night, Steadfast it gleams and beckons, A jewel of amber light. 1 6 THE LAMP IN THE POOL Steadfast it points and beckons. And ever the self-same way, For it hangs at the gate of a palace That knows not the light of day. The great elms' leafy branches Lean over the water's brink, Where deep in their sheltering hollows The shadows in shadows sink. But the gold lamp in the water It glimmers and beckons bright, Like a love-lamp set in a window On a murky summer night. For him who would rise and follow Full smooth is the path, and straight, The way through the glistening water That leads to the palace gate. THE LAMP IN THE POOL 17 And he who shall cross the threshold No more shall he strive nor weep, Bemg come to the Tower of Silence, In the Valley of Endless Sleep. MARCHEN The old house by the waterside, With leaded casements blear and grey, Looks down upon the sluggish tide, The long canal whose currents glide Serene and slow from day to day. And I, beneath the linden shade, Still watch the front of carven wood — That frowning front so strangely made, With scroll and arch and balustrade. And signs that none hath understood. And none, they say, doth dwell therein — Yet, sometimes, when the sun goes down. Through those dim panes I seem to win MARCHEN 19 The tinkle of a mandolin, The glamour of a golden gown. 'Tis she, I know, abideth there, The Lady of the Locks of Gold, Than sun and moon and stars more fair My heart's ordained — my soul's despair— For she is young, and I am old. Yet some blue-glimmering night in May, When all the lindens are in flower. Then eld and grief shall pass away, The vain desire, the long delay. Ah ! then shall strike my magic hour. For She shall fling the casement wide, Shall lean and beckon to me there, Shall call me, softly, to her side — So deeply loved, so long denied — The Princess with the Golden Hair. WALPURGIS Along the valley to the sea The steel-grey river glimmers wan. Oh, what shall this night bring to be ? And what may come when light be gone ? Across the dark Downs, face to face, Two sullen fires flame east and west — The blood-red sunset's lurid space, The blood-red moon's uprearing crest. A weary Maenad, flushed with wine, Between the dull dun drift she peers, Heavy with lewd old rites malign. Lusting for human blood and tears. WALPURGIS 21 The sea-wind holds its breath for fear, The black trees cringe upon the height ; Still, with her wicked, wanton leer, The red moon menaces the night. FANTASY Gold roses, climbing, clasp a casement round, Down on the grey stone sill their sweet heads laying. Below there stands a pale nymph ivy-crowned^ A strange air playing. Her frail form trembles with the viol's strain, Her shoulder leans against a fluted column, Her eyes now shine, now plead, and now again Watch, soft and solemn. The fallen petals lie about her feet. Their loose curled gold the marble terrace flecking. Sunset and moonrise round about her meet, Her bright hair decking. FANTASY 23 And one within looks upward from his scroll, Doubtful, reluctantly his clear eyes hfting, Wherein there leaps a sudden, eager soul. Their cold veil shifting. * Ah, listen,' thus the quivering viol pleads, ' Still are the olive-slopes where grey moths hover ; The ripples murmur to the misty reeds ; Maid meeteth lover. ' Yon river wandering goes to seek the sea, Warm with the memory of day's red glory ; Come forth and hear in magic groves with me My wondrous story.' Smiling he stands, young laurels on his hair, Dim dreams of joys foregone his pale brow flushing ; Half-tearful smiles, with pitying lips one fair Dead rose-bud brushing. 24 FANTASY Sighing he stoops and leans upon the sill : ' Sweet, but a little while this low hght lingers, Thou canst not hinder night nor day-dawn chill With those lithe fingers. ' Fain would I wander in the sun-stained gloom With thee, might this charmed hour forsake us never. Might but my steps retraced this quiet room Re-enter ever ! ' Still sob the viol-strings their slow refrain, Her eyes, uplifted, through a tear-film glisten — ' In years far hence I '11 come to thee again, And thou wilt listen. ' Ah, then my spells shall compass thee around, With wild airs whispering and fair lost faces ; And thou shalt hearken for my viol's sound In shady places.' BLACKBIRD'S SONG Sweetheart, I ne'er may know, Never may see ; White is the blossom snow, Green is the lea : Still the stream sings of you, All the wood rings of you — Sweetheart, oh sweetheart mine, Where can you be ? True-love I ne'er may meet All the world through. Dim is the dawn, and sweet. 26 BLACKBIRD'S SONG Deep is the dew. Listen — oh lost and dear ! Come — for your love is here, Here in the hazel-wood, Waiting for you. VALE The rock-doves grieve the golden noontide still- Deep in the darkened grove, with querulous moan, Ever they call me from this wooded hill Where I sit all alone. The autumn world seems sorrowful and strange, Though hung with gold and steeped in mellow light ; Throughout there menaces a cloud of change, An end of all delight. No more the swallows wheel about the sky. No more the blackbird whistles in the dew ; Both rose and nightingale are gone — and I Would follow summer too. 28 VALE The ash-tree keys hang rusting on the boughs ; Sad and insistent as an ancient tune, Over and o'er through summer's empty house Echoes the rock-doves' rune. Fain would I follow, at their drowsy call, By shadowy glades and plaintive tinkling streams. Where never wind doth sway the tree-tops tall, Nor earthly sun-ray gleams. I would not watch another autumn fade, Vext with shrill winds and stung with vain regret Be it mine to seek the inviolable shade. And— maybe — to forget. Loosed from the narrow prison of days and nights. Set free from Reason's rigorous castle-keep — Roaming by misty valleys and dim heights — The hollows and hills of sleep. ARMISTICE Last night I grasped the bony hands of Death Hard in mine own, the while, in desperate wise, Straitly I gazed into his hollow eyes. (We were alone beneath a linden-tree Whose wet leaves trembled to the spring wind's breath ; The bloom of Spring was on the purple skies.) Heavy of heart I stood and gazed on him, So fair the world was in that twilight dim, So sweet its shadow-haunted mysteries. ' Tell me,' I cried, ' for this I needs must know, What have we done, O cruel Death, to thee. That thou art still our one implacable foe, JO ARMISTICE Whom naught propitiates, naught may overthrow, Whom none escapeth, howsoe'er he flee, But, when thou beckonest, must arise and go ? ' Gently Death answered me, and musing said, ' Am I, in very truth, thine enemy ? Nay, but thine angel, pitiful and mild ; J am the parent ; thou, the wayward child, Sprung from my loins, yet holding me in dread. ' Now, as in all time past, all time to be, I welcome those the World and Time discard. Whom Life hath banished, whom Eld hath maimed and marred ; None is too vile, too full of misery. Ever and aye my portal stands unbarred. — Hath not thine own voice called me over and o'er ? Hounded by Care, beset and tortured sore, Hath not thine own heart ofttimes turned to me ? ARMISTICE 51 ' Go, and forget me yet awhile again ; But when thy deep desire of hfe shall wane, When thou art weary of all things, worst and best,- Weary of taking thought, of Joy and Pain, Of thine own faults and failures weariest, — Cry to me then, — thou shalt not ask in vain ; Come unto me, and I will give thee rest.' GLORIA MUNDI Give us the earth's whole heart but once to know, But once to pierce the secret of the Spring, — Give us our fill, — so we at end may go Into the starless night unmurmuring. Gold lights that beckon down the dusky way, Where loud wheels roll, impetuous, through the night ; The lamp-ht leaves ; the maddening airs of May ; The heady wine of living, dark and bright. Give us of these, and we are blest, in truth ; The wandering foot, the keen, unflagging zest, One with the glorious world's eternal youth. Of all that is, and is not, first and best. GLORIA MUNDI 33 Ah, vain desire, our straitened years to mar ! Troubled we turn and listen, unreleased, To music of a revel held afar. Evasive echoes of a distant feast. THE PRODIGAL SON Yesterday I turned me homeward to the little hamlet, The small grey village on the steep hill-side ; I passed the red kine grazing on the uplands, The white sheep in the fields : Green were the elms, and green the feathery ash-trees, Sweet, sweet and loud the birds sang in the valley, Though it was autumn. Beside the old well in the shadowed lane, Where from high banks the tall trees lean together, I stood to watch the water drip and glisten Upon the frail fern-garlands ; THE PRODIGAL SON 35 And lo ! there came a woman with her pitcher. Two Httle children clung about her apron ; Around her head She wore a Hnen kerchief, white as lilies, And at her breast a knot of purple pansies Thrust in her bodice. Blithely she laughed — 'twas she — my Heart's Beloved ! Trembling, I named her name — I stretched my fin- ders Touching her arm — yet never made she answer, Seeming as though she heeded not nor heard me. Only she said, ' Make haste, make haste, my children. The air strikes dank and chilly in the shadow ; Come where the sun shines ' — so they hastened from me ; Far down the lane I heard their shrill, sweet talk. Heavy of heart I sought my father's cottage. And there a strange lad leaned upon the gate, 36 THE PRODIGAL SON A stranger-maiden plied my mother's loom ; Yet I went in and passed athwart the chamber To the square hearth-nook where my mother sat, Propped in her high-winged chair. Weeping, I bowed my head upon her knees : ' Forgive me, I have come at last,' I said ; ' I am come back, to leave you nevermore.' Yet she replied not, only sighed and shifted The seam she sewed on nearer to the light. And then I saw it was a shroud she wrought. I wandered all about the garden pathways, And marked my moss-rose choked with clambering bindweed ; The diamond-shapen plot abloom with asters Lilac and white. And love-Hes-bleeding with its amethyst trails : The little wooden cote I made one winter. To house my doves, was broken and decayed. THE PRODIGAL SON 37 And, by the porch, my thrush's wicker cage Hung on its nail with open-dangling door. My old dog, drowsing in a pool of sun, Awoke and stretched. I stroked his tawny head, But he cowered back from me, and crouched in terror. Whining and shivering, though I still caressed him, Murmuring fond words, familiar, foolish phrases He once would leap to hear — Then suddenly — I knew — ay, then I knew in very surety That I was dead. D'OUTREMER A BLACK moor and a golden sky, Darkness and dew ; A whirr of westering wings on high — ■ And dreams of you, O far upon some outland shore Those wings may rest, But my heart slumbers nevermore That seeks your breast. O far beyond the farthest hill The sun has set. My wandering thoughts that track you still Fare farther yet. ON LETHE WHARF On Lethe Wharf the winds are still, And motionless the clouds above Yon sluggish river, dark and chill, That healeth Hope, and Hate, and Love. The low plain widens far away, Beneath the mild and misty skies ; Beyond, the land of night and day, Our land of change and tumult, lies. Here is no doubt — despair — surmise — But Life and Thought with folded wings, Watch the dull distance with dull eyes In this grey home of hopeless things. 40 ON LETHE WHARF The cold, black water lapses by, From bank to bank the ripples spread ; But never bird or butterfly Is mirrored in that tide of lead. Only tall poppies, white and red, Stand close together by the brink, While on the glimmering current shed Their fallen petals drift or sink. And I will leave the world behind. This springtide world of stir and fret, To go where those dim waters wind And never blooms the violet. On Lethe Wharf shall be my lot. Among the poppies, red and white, Spring and my sorrow forsworn — forgot — With all the dreams of day and night. A SONG OF LONDON The sun 's on the pavement, The current comes and goes, And the grey streets of London They blossom Hke the rose. Crowned with the spring sun, Vistas fair and free ; What joy that waits not ? What that may not be ? The blue-bells may beckon. The cuckoo call — and yet — The grey streets of London I never may forget. 42 A SONG OF LONDON O fair shines the gold moon On blossom-clustered eaves, But bright blinks the gas-lamp Between the linden-leaves. And the green country meadows Are fresh and fine to see, But the grey streets of London They 're all the world to me. NOCTURN O THE long, long street and the sweet Sense of the night, of the Spring ! Lamps in a glittering string, Pointing a path for our feet. Pointing and beckoning — where ? Far out of thought, out of view. Deep through the dusk and the dew : What but seems possible there ? O the dark Spring night and the bright Glint of the lamps in the street ! Strange is their summons, and sweet, O my beloved, to-night ! LONDON IN OCTOBER Autumn goes wandering — wandering on her way Down the mild slope that shortens day by day Under these quiet skies. Here, as the green leaves fade, the gold leaves fall, A still enchantment widens over all. Painting the streets with vague autumnal dyes Like ancient tapestries ; Touching to fantasy unfelt before The motley hoardings' many-coloured lore ; With every floating leaf, each sound that sighs, Seizing the sense with something subtler yet — The deep exhilaration of regret For this sweet hour that flies. LONDON IN OCTOBER 45 The long, barge-laden stream Bears on the roseate haze, the golden gleam ; The leaves go hurrying at the Hght wind's call As to some festival. While we, half sorrowful, half exuhant, too, Blown by the old year's breath to meet the new. Stretch forth our hands to greet we know not what, So fair forever is the unknown lot ! So strong the glamour of the London street. With dim expectancies Holding the heart in bondage stormy and sweet. Here, though the dead leaves flit, Doubt shall not hold dominion over it, Nor age nor sorrow, but sensuous sheer delight In the blue, lamp-hung night. Thine are our hearts, beloved City of Mist Wrapped in thy veils of opal and amethyst, 46 LONDON IN OCTOBER Set in thy shrine of lapis-lazuli, Dowered with the very language of the sea, Lit with a million gems of living fire — London, the goal of many a soul's desire ! Goddess and sphinx, thou hold'st us safe in thrall Here while the dead leaves fall. RUS IN URBE A LITTLE brown finch in the plane-tree swings, And my heart, like a cage-bird, beats its wings, Sick with desire for the woodland ways. The hills where the red kine graze. Dead leaves whirl in the dusty street, But I know the wind from the sea blows sweet, Through dark deep clefts of the valleys green. Where the white gulls float between. This colourless street is bleak and bare. But robins sing in the orchards there ; Apples are bright on the orchard bough, And the elms gleam golden now. 48 RUS IN URBE The wind dies out with the fading sun, The dance of the withered leaves is done ; A strange spell holdeth the hard grey street, And the murky air grows sweet. I watch from my window, looking down, The golden hghts of the great grey town- The blue, blue dusk and the amber glare Of gas in the twilight air. I hear no call from the wind-swept hill, The voice of the breaking surf is still. And which is dearer I know no more — The street or the far sea-shore. AT KENSAL GREEN CEMETERY JANUARY 2 I ST, I 892 The last notes of the requiem die away ; Lone is that chamber now where lowly and great Together knelt to sorrow and to pray ; Where, crowned by Death, a princely prelate lay In more than royal state. With sullen stroke tolls out his funeral knell — No more, in dense interminable line, Bowed with a grief past power of speech to tell, Gather the multitudes who loved him well. As to a dead saint's shrine. D 50 AT KENSAL GREEN CEMETERY Beyond the tombs the winter sun sinks red ; Sombre and mournful as the dying day A mighty concourse crowds with hurried tread Among these pale memorials of the dead, Gaunt symbols glimmering grey. Down the long pathway comes a stately train With swinging lights and jewelled censers fair, And all the high insignia of his reign — The Miserere's melancholy strain Wails through the twilight air. A slow chant, solemn as the voice of Doom, In varying cadence swells : a muffled stir Sways through that gold-Ht circle round the tomb, While the great coffer glittering through the gloom Sinks to the sepulchre. AT KENSAL GREEN CEMETERY 51 Gone the vast throng like forms of glamour shown. The white-stoled priests, the yellow tapers' light ; Darkness reclaims her silent city of stone — All hasten forth — but he lies there alone With the chill winter night. THE WIND'S SUMMONS The Wind came whining to my door^ Across the uplands from the sea, With plaintive burden o'er and o'er, ' Oh, will ye roam the world with me ? ' The wintry skies were all too chill, The wintry lands too stark and grey : I would not do the wild Wind's will ; I barred the door and said him nay. But when the Night crept, vast and black. Up the long valleys from the sea, THE WIND'S SUMMONS 53 The cold Wind followed in his track, And swift and stealthy followed he. The mad Wind clamoured at my door ; His voice was like the angry sea That breaks in thunder on the shore, And still he cried, ' Come forth to me ! ' The casements shook and shuddered sore, He rano^ed the hisrh walls round and round ; My chamber rocked from roof to floor, And all the darkness throbbed with sound. The wintry dawn rose faint and slow. He turned him to the frozen lea. And aye he moaned and muttered low Along the uplands to the sea. 54 THE WIND'S SUMMONS Sullen and slow the Sea-Wind sped ; ' Oh, never doubt the day shall be When I shall come again,' he said, ' And you come forth and follow me. ' The lair of Night shall be your bed. And fast and far your ghost shall flee, When you are one with all the Dead That roam the wide world round with me.' FINIS Even for you I shall not weep When I at last, at last am dead, Nor turn and sorrow in my sleep Though you should linger overhead. Even of you I shall not dream Beneath the waving graveyard grass ; One with the soul of wind and stream I shall not heed you if you pass. Even for you I would not wake, Too bitter were the tears I knew, Too dark the road I needs must take — The road that winds away from you. AT EVENING All day the clear Spring sunshine mocked the pain My heart strove blindly with ; the hmpid skies Stared on my grief with bright, indifferent eyes, While all in vain, in vain, I wrestled with the doubts that did you wrong. The shadowy terrors of our severance That shook my soul with threats of evil chance. I strove to bridge the gulf with memories — But sadder than the echo of a song Sung long ago, And fainter than the phantom of a dream Of some fair land, Dreamed far away in a forgotten place — Sad as sere leaves, and faint as falling snow — AT EVENING 57 The past I summoned shrank from my embrace, The weahh I counted withered in my hand. But when the amber-coloured twilight came And young leaves glimmered golden overhead, Over and o'er a blackbird piped your name From some green shelter in the garden stead And then fell silent — and the silence grew Full of strange solace, and the sense of you. THE GOLDEN HOUR Steeped in a mellow, orange-golden glow, Dark, clustered elms touch hands across the lane. Strange glories crown the gabled stacks arow. And gild each lumbering amber-laden wain. In jewelled bravery of gold and green The pallid stubble glistens to the sky, 'Neath limpid seas of luminous air serene. Where homing rooks float drowsily on high. Infinite pleasure takes the sense — and yet Fades in a moment, smitten into pain ; Changed for a fruitless passion of regret, As elfin treasure turns to earth again. THE GOLDEN HOUR $9 And gladness falters like a silenced song — Sinks with the flame of sunset's coloured fire ; So short th' illumined hour — Alas, so long The inextinguishable vain desire ! EX UMBRA In twilight while I walk alone A strange voice calls me, clear and low ; A shadowy hand that seeks my own, Cold as the wind and soft as snow, Still leads me, leads me as I pass Across the grey December grass. The village windows beckon still With glow of amber and of gold ; But my way lies along the hill, My road must cross the frosty wold ; And still I feel and still I see The darkness round me deep and free. SHEEP-BELLS Down from the upland pastures smooth and high, Slopes where the light of sunset lingers long, Where the lone herdsman leads his pearly throng O'er emerald greensward girt with topaz sky, Floateth a strange, a magical, melody, — Psean and plaint, compact of laughter and sigh, Filling the yellow eventide with song. . • • • Ah, never thus rang pastoral serenade — No mortal flocks are folded on that height, No earthly measure ever tripped so hght. Nor earthly bells such delicate music made — 62 SHEEP-BELLS Too sweet, too wild, the limpid numbers run- Enchanted echoes blown in eddying flight, Borne from some wandering faery cavalcade, Or charmed lutes by elfin fingers played. Tinkling a farewell to the setting sun. IN THE VALLEY Myriad birds in the tliicket sing, Glancing and flitting on eager wing ; Leaves are green on the branches still, But the autumn airs breathe chill. Spring is over and Summer gone, But the birds in the valley still sing on To the broad brown hills and the quiet sky, Though Winter is drawing nigh. The slow wind sighs and the skies are grey. But the little birds pipe so shrill, so gay ; So sweet to-day are the songs they sing They will waken the banished Spring. AVE ATaUE VALE Farewell, my Youth ! for now we needs must part, For here the paths divide ; Here hand from hand must sever, heart from heart, — Divergence deep and wide. You '11 wear no withered roses for my sake, Though I go mourning for you all day long, Finding no magic more in bower or brake, No melody in song. Grey Eld must travel in my company To seal this severance more fast and sure. A joyless fellowship, i' faith, 'twill be, Yet must we fare together, I and he, Till I shall tread the footpath way no more. AVE ATaUE VALE 65 But when a blackbird pipes among the boughs, On some dim, iridescent day in spring. Then I may dream you are remembering Our ancient vows. Or when some joy foregone, some fate foresworn. Looks through the dark eyes of a violet, I may re-cross the set, forbidden bourne, I may forget Our long, long parting for a httle while, Dream of the golden splendours of your smile. Dream you remember yet. IN BLUE AND GOLD The blue sea slumbers in a mist of heat Beside the amber shore, At anchor floats a brown-winged fisher fleet With idle sail and oar. The pointed stooks against a purple sky Give back the sunset gold — I hear the wheeling swallows call and cry, I watch the day grow old. The day goes down in splendours strange and deep Emblazoning land and sea — O wind that singst this happy earth to sleep, Bring endless sleep to me ! A MIDNIGHT HARVEST CORNISH COAST The white, white gulls wheel inland, The breakers rake and grind ; The swagging clouds go swiftly With a shattering gale behind ; What are the white gulls crying Above the ripened corn ? ' O, harvest will be over Before the morrow's morn : No need to whet the sickle. No need to bring the wain, The storm shall reap on the chff-side steep, And the west wind thresh the grain.' 68 A MIDNIGHT HARVEST The white, white gulls whirl gaily, They keep a merry coil, But the farmer's heart is heavy For all his months of toil : He hears the white gulls' chorus. Their cries of joyous scorn : ' O, harvest will be over Or ever comes the morn : Now go you to your bed. Farmer, Lie down and take your ease ; The wind shall reap while you rest and sleep, And the storm shall scour the leas.' The white, white foam flies upward. The black rocks show their teeth, Dark frowns the towering headland They grin and gird beneath ; What are the wild gulls crying Far up the valleys grey ? A MIDNIGHT HARVEST 69 ' Hey for the midnight harvest, The merry breakers' play ! There '11 be harvest out at sea. Farmer, And harvest here on land : There '11 be rare ripe grain for the hungry main, And drowned folk for the strand.' MIRAGE With milk-white dome and minaret Most fair my Promised City shone ; Beside a purple river set The waving palm-trees beckoned on. O yon, I said, must be my goal No matter what the danger be, The chosen haven of my soul. How hard soe'er the penalty. The goal is gained — the journey done- Yet naught is here but sterile space, But whirling sand and burning sun, And hot winds blowing in my face. SUNSET ON HENNACLIFF Lapped in the low light of the westering sun. The wild gulls circle seaward one by one, Wheeling and wailing, querulous and shrill, Now silver-wliite, now dun, As the late lustre touches them at will : Even their dark fortress set in the blue sea, Fringed with perpetual foam. Gives back a glory from its Hchened dome "Where no man's foot may be, And yon gaunt headland's massive masonry. Towering on high above the sea-birds' hold, Gleams like the Mystic Rose With dull rich dyes of amaranth and gold : Stronger and stronger grows 72 SUNSET ON HENNACLIFF A glamour of gladness, infinite, untold ; The hour is full of strange assurances, Once more the worn heart knows A golden anchorage of exquisite ease. Where magic water flows. * • • • • A faint sea-fragrance dwells upon the air ; Autumn's enchantment layeth hold on me. Stirring the sense to vaguest pageantry, To fitful memories of days so fair As no days ever were. TRAVELLER'S JOY Over the hills and far away The road is long on a summer day ; Dust glares white in the noontide heat, But the Traveller's Joy grows strong and sweet ; Down the hollow and up the slope It binds the hedge with a silken rope. O the sun that shines and the dust that flies, And the fresh green leaves for tired eyes — Green leaves, and the summer's hope. Through the valley and over the down The withering hedge bends dry and brown, The sycamore leaves hang rent and seared, And the Traveller's Joy is Old Man's Beard — 74 TRAVELLER'S JOY Up the marsh and over the lea The milk-white gulls sail up from the sea- And it 's O for the wind and the weeping rain, And the summers that never shall rise again Whatever may come to be. EPITAPH Now lay thee down to sleep, and dream of me ; Though thou art dead and I am living yet, Though cool thy couch and sweet thy slumbers be. Dream — do not quite forget. Sleep all the autumn, all the winter long, With never a painted shadow from the past To haunt thee ; only, when the blackbird's song Wakens the woods at last. When the young shoots grow lusty overhead. Here, where the spring sun smiles, the spring wind grieves, When budding violets close above thee spread Their small, heart-shapen leaves, 76 EPITAPH Pass, O Beloved, to dreams from slumber deep ; Recount the store that mellowing time endears, Thread, through the measureless mazes of thy sleep, Our old, unchangeful years. Lie still and listen — while thy sheltering tree Whispers of suns that rose, of suns that set — For far-off echoes of the Spring and me. Dream — do not quite forget. THE VALLEY OF THE THORN Down a bleak gorge where neighbouring heights divide, I strayed alone one quiet, autumn day, Between the long hills stretching far and wide. Most desolate and grey. No netted copse, no populous underwood Made fair that desert pale and tempest-worn, But solitary in the valley stood One twisted, wind-scourged thorn. ' Of Death-in-Life the very seal and sign, Sterility's own self,' I said, ' is here ; What desolation can compare with thine ? What solitude so drear ? 78 THE VALLEY OF THE THORN ' Flowerless and fruitless, beaten by the blast, Bereft of every joy ; poor, tortured tree. Thou art grown old in grief, yet sure, at last, Death's wind shall solace thee ! ' And as I lingered there a while, and dreamed Dim day-dreams full of idle fantasies, A low voice answered me — or so it seemed — A murmur on the breeze. ' Nay,' sighed the voice from out the barren thorn, ' Content am I and happy in my lot ; Fair is my life to me and blithely borne Here in this quiet spot. ' Oft will the lark sing ; oft the mild west wind Bring near the solemn soothing of the sea ; Often the great clouds, white and purple-lined, Go wandering over me. THE VALLEY OF THE THORN 79 ' All the long summer, at the twilight hour, I feel the benediction of the dew ; I watch the great moon like a golden flower Grow, in the dusky blue. ' Tho' never springtide findeth me arrayed In snow-white glory as my kinsfolk be. The sheep have sheltered 'neath my scanty shade, And small birds built in me. ' Once, long ago, how long I do forget, But many, many a moon of sun and rain, Two lovers here beneath my branches met, And vowed to meet again. ' They came no more, but still I think of them Over and o'er, so gay they were and young, And sigh the name He carved upon my stem, The snatch of song She sung. 8o THE VALLEY OF THE THORN ' I feel the shadow of the wild swan's wings, I hear the murmur of the heather bees ; My days are rich with store of pleasant things And happy memories.' Oft have I searched yon labyrinth forlorn Of barren slopes and stony gorges hoar, But that sequestered valley of the thorn, I found it nevermore. NEIGES D'ANTAN My Doris, bind your loosened hair, And let those dropping tears be dried ; Because we found the roses fair Need we upbraid them that they died ? What though we watched the white moon rise, The strong sun spread his golden net ; Must we then deal in tears and sighs Shall we repine because they set? Crown me the cup with rose and vine, Fill — nor forecast to-morrow's need — To-day is neither yours nor mine, Though yesterday was ours indeed. F 82 NEIGES D'ANTAN Sigh not, but smile, my very dear, Nor vex your breast with Why and How ; For that was There — and this is Here — For that was Then — and this is Now. OPEN SESAME So low swings the broad, gold moon I could clasp her — nearly ; Up to the brow of the down, and an arm's-length merely — Only a span — yet she mounts, while I pause and wonder, Chill and remote as the thin white clouds beyond her. So simple the charmed word I could almost say it ; The ghmmering dusk, the dew-fall, half betray it ; Half — yet the silence holds her spell unspoken. Mute, while the instant fades estranged and broken. Almost I tread the twilight fields of faery, Almost I pluck their blossoms frail and airy. 84 OPEN SESAME E'en tho' the spoil should turn, home-coming hither, Armfuls of yellowing leaves and weeds that wither. Held to the earth's full heart, a moment wholly, Know we nor fear nor fret, but gladness solely ; Joy in our part in all — in life's possession, Joy in the Joy of Life beyond expression. Joy in the task beloved tho' unavailing, Joy in the splendid steeps too high for scaling ; Joy in the fleeting glimpse, the vain endeavour, Tho' Almost meadows flower by the gates of Never. EPHEMERON Grey on the daisied grass, Shadows of moving leaves ; Happy the brown bees hum, ' Summer has come — has come ' ; Lightly the low winds pass. Shaking the peony-sheaves. Tulips the sun looks through Shining and stately stand ; Redder than rubies glow All their great globes arow. Bright on the summer blue, Lanthorns of fairy-land. 86 EPHEMERON Ever and aye my own Still shall this moment be : I shall remember all — Shadows and tulips tall, Scent from the bean-fields blown, Song of the humble-bee. Lost is that fragrant hour. Dewy and golden-lit — Dead — for the memory Pitiful comes to me Wan as a withered flower — Only the ghost of it. REaUIESCAT Bury me deep when I am dead, Far from the woods where sweet birds sing ; Lap me in sullen stone and lead, Lest my poor dust should feel the Spring. Never a flower be near me set, Nor starry cup nor slender stem, Anemone nor violet. Lest my poor dust remember them. And you — wherever you may fare — Dearer than birds, or flowers, or dew — Never, ah me, pass never there. Lest my poor dust should dream of you. THE WHITE KNIGHT (old FRENCH. 1 6oo) Gallants, riding to the war, Riding o'er the lea, On the battlefield afar Greet my love for me ! How should we your true-love greet ? How your true-love know ? Milk-white is his courser fleet, White as falling snow. White the cross upon his breast ; Golden spurs hath he ; White upon his lance's crest Floats a pennon free. THEWPUTE KNIGHT 89 Weep no more, no more, ladye. Lowly rests his head ; On the plains of Brittany Lies your lover dead. Weep not, ladye, weep no more ; In a meadow fair By his grave grey friars four Speed his soul with prayer. OUR LADY'S PENITENT They hanged him high on a withered tree On the wasteland bare and black ; Pale in the dusk they turned to flee, And never a soul looked back. Mute they fled from the place of dread, But each in his heart made moan : ' Oh, it 's up and away from yon gallows grey Ere the foul fiend claim his own ! ' Robber, murderer, beast of prey. Fell as the were-wolf's race. None dared stay in the silence grey To look on that dying face. OUR LADY'S PENITENT 91 None dared bide while the death-gasp died On the lips foredoomed to hell ; Yet all the days of his dark Hfe through Had he loved Our Lady well. Still from his spoil would he choose the best Of glittering gold and gem, To hang in worship across her breast Or lav at her garment's hem. And all night long, 'twixt the man and Death, She hovered in glory there, And held him up in his living breath With her long hands slim and fair. All night long did she hearken — yea, Till the evil soul was shriven : She loosed his hands with the dawn of day, Leaden and stark swung the lifeless clay, But the ghost fled forth forgiven. THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE One yellow rushlight glimmered dim Among the shadows deep, Where the dying man lay gaunt and grim, And his watcher drowsed to sleep. ' Black is the night, and the lamp burns bright To guide the good ships in ; There is work, maybe, on the rocks for me, And a purse of gold to win. ' Now why does he cling so fast, so fast, To the shore rocks sharp and black ? Ave has the sea befriended me, And the sea shall have him back. THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE 93 * And what should a dead man do with gold That he grips his belt so tight ? 'Twas all for me through the beating sea He made yon lusty fight. ' Oh, tjie ribbed roof-tree hangs over me And not the open sky ; Gone are the rocks and the heavy belt, And a doting fool am I. *■ Now curses on this cankering pain That will not let me free. That keeps me back from the worn cliff track And the harvest of the sea ! ' Go, get ye to the window-pane, And tell me what ye see ; Is there ever a ship across the bar Where the merry breakers be ? 94 THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE ' Look out, look out across the bay, Look out again once more ; Is it burning bright, our bonny light That brings the ships inshore ? ' She 's ta'en her to the window-pane And looked across the bay ; * Oh, the night is chill, and the waves are still And the wild-fowl boding day.' ' Look out, look out across the bay, And tell me what ye see ; A clay cold weight is on my breast And the dead-thraw grapples me.' She 's ta'en her to the window-pane To look across the bay, And thrice her lips gaped wide to speak, But nothing could she say. THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE 95 A black cloud filled the window-pane And wrapped the house around, And out of the gloom came a hollow din, Like a great ship gone aground. And out of the gloom came a hollow din Of a great ship drawing near, With labouring ropes, and creaking blocks. And shipmen calling clear. Slow strained the masts, and the timbers groaned Like a ship in her agony ; The chamber was full of the sound of surf And the clash of a breaking sea. ' Are ye come for me from the foul black sea ? Win back, ye carrion crew ! Back to the hell where I bade ye dwell, For never I '11 sail with you.' 96 THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE But the death-gasp rattled in his throat As he reared him in the bed ; The room was still as the corpse fell back, And the murky cloud had sped. It was a great ship crossed the bar, With all sail set went she ; 'Gainst tide and wind, with the shore behind. That ship put out to sea. THE QUERN OF THE GIANTS Lo, this is the song of a king and his kingly desire. The story of wrong and undoing — of terror and fire. Full fair was the store of King Frodi with treasure untold, And fair were his purple-dyed webs and his platters of gold; But strangest and rarest of all were the Qjaern-stones that lay Dull and hoar, 'mid the gleam of the gold and the woven array ; G 98 THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS The mill for the grinding of aught that its conqueror would, With power for the marring or making — for ill or for good. Though the strongest and the best of the land put their hands to the Q.uern, Over heavy and great seemed the stones for a mortal to turn : Till it chanced in the spring of the year that King Frodi went forth Over seas to a comrade aforetime, a prince of the north. Full blithely they met and they greeted, for long was the space Since either had parted from other, or looked on his face. THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS 99 And blithe was the thne of their feasting ; much had they to show, Spake each of his land and his people — their weal and their woe. And Frodi told aye of the Quern-stones, the hoard of liis sire. How none was so strong as to turn them, for all his desire, Nor heroes, nor sons of the plough, but forsaken they lay Dull and hoar, 'mid the gleam of the gold and the woven array. And the monarch, liis friend of aforetime, smiled, musing, and said, ' Let the bondwomen, Menia and Frenia, be hitherward led.' 100 THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS So Menia and Frenia stood forth in the light of the day, And none of the children of men were so stalwart as they, So mighty of limb and of stature — no word did they speak, But their arms were crossed over their bosoms, sub- missive and meek. And sold were the sisters for bond-slaves, and borne oversea In the brazen-beaked ship of King Frodi, and joyful was he. And mute 'neath the yoke of the stranger they bowed them again, But out of their eyes looked remembrance, and ques- tioning pain. THE QUERN OF THE GIANTS loi They lifted their hands to the Quern— as a taskunfor- got Did they bow their proud heads to the grinding and murmured not. And Frodi, beholding, laughed out, ' Do ye labour, nor cease, That the land may be glad with your labours — Grind Gold and grind Peace. ^ Then patient and strong toiled the sisters, and never were days Like those of the Peace of King Frodi for honour and praise. Then no man was famished with hunger, nor evil of heart, And banished was want from the homestead and guile from the mart. I02 THE QUERN OF THE GIANTS And sweet was the sound of the grinding as zephyr- stirred groves, As the chime of great bells undersea, or the cooing of doves. And glad was the heart of the people, and green were the trees. And fair shone the light of the sun on the blossoming leas; And summer-time waned into winter, and still flowed the gold Like a river of light o'er the white and the glittering wold. Still patient and strong toiled the sisters by night and by day. And none in the length of the land were so weary as they. THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS 103 Bleak and grey o'er the peace and the plenty, forlorn and alone Did they tower in their might and their sorrow ; and Frenia made moan : * The wind bloweth cold on our bosoms, the snow and the sleet Fall fast on our shelterless heads, and the frost gnaws our feet ; ' Our eyehds wax heavy with sleep, sore awearied are we ; Grant us respite, O King, for a while, from our travail for thee.' ' So long as the pause of a song for the voices that sing. So long as the call of the cuckoo is silent in spring. I04 THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS ' So long shall ye rest and no longer, so long shall ye cease From the grinding of pleasure and plenty, of treasure and peace.' ' There spake not thy wisdom, O King, nor the voice of thy heart. Bethink thee, and grant that we rest us a little apart. ' Consider the peace and the plenty, the gold and the grain. And more treasure yet will we grind when we waken again.' Full gentle and sad spake the bondwomen mighty of limb, But the heart of the King was grown gross, and his eyes waxen dim ; THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS 105 He saw not their sweat-furrowed brows nor their anguish untold, But only the gleam and the glow of the torrent of gold. ' So long as the pause of a song for the voices that sing, So long as the call of the cuckoo is silent in spring, ' So long shall ye rest and no longer, so long shall ye cease ; Toil on — grinding gold for my garner — grind gold and grind peace.' *■ Even so, till the King be content with the thing -we shall grind' And murmuring muttered the Quern hke the voice of the wind ; Dark, dark grew the face of the heavens, and dark grew the sea, And a low wind rose up through the gloom, blowing icy and free. io6 THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS And Frenia smiled unto Menia : ' The Quern is the same Though the might of our fathers be fled, and forgotten their name ; ' What thing did we grind for the world in the days overpast, In the days when the House of the Giants stood goodly and vast ? ' Nay, surely 'twas never aforetime the Peace or the Gold That we ground for the children of men in our home- stead of old? ' And Menia said : ' Now shall we grind till the King be content With the fruit of our toil — till the walls of the palace be rent ; THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS 107 'And the raven shall feast on the hearth, and the wolves shall make cheer — Full soon to the wolf and the crow shall King Frodi be dear.' And Frenia said : ' Grind we the wrack and the utter- most woe, The ruin and rapine, yea — the red right hand of the foe ; ' So — grind we and spare not, come havoc, and fury, and flame ! Come all, for the fall of King Frodi, his spoiling and shame ! ' Let the fire and the sword have their will, aye let slay and let burn ! ' And hollow and murmuring hoarse rose the voice of the Quern, io8 THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS Till it crashed like the shore-driven waves 'neath the hurricane's breath, Crying, ' Fire, fire and sword to the land, Desolation and Death I ' ' It is coming — O King blind of heart ! dost thou slumber and sleep, Even now while black ships of the stranger are breast- ing the deep ? ' The red flames brake forth from the earth and her furrows were rent With the steel-girdled sons of her might, rising thick as the bent Of the wheat-blades in spring ; and the sea roaring up to the land On its tide bore the ships of the foeman unhurt o'er the strand. THE aUERN OF THE GIANTS 109 And where was the weahh of King Frodi, the Gold and the Peace ? Ah, where are the leaves that the winter-wind sweeps from the trees ? And red shone the feet of the maidens, the Quern- stones were red, As they ground, dealing death to the living and flame to the dead ; And still, as they sang, sang the sword and the raven- ing fire — And the heart of King Frodi was emptied of thought or desire. Still over the dead and the dying the flames flickered high, They leapt in the blood-reek, rejoicing, and reddened the sky. no THE QUERN OF THE GIANTS Till silent at last sank the crying of horror and dule — ' Lo ! Sister, the grinding is over, the garner is full.' They ceased, with their arms on their bosoms crossed, passive and stern. And hushed was the sound of their song and the voice of the Qiiern. Lo ! this is the song of a king and his lust of the gold, Of a king and his glory gone by as a tale that is told. THE ISLE OF VOICES Fair blows the wind to-day, fresh along the valleys, Strange with the sounds and the scents of long ago ; Sinks in the willow-grove, shifts, and sighs, and rallies — "Whence, Wind, and why. Wind, and whither do you go? Why, Wind, and whence. Wind ?— Yet well and well I know it — Word from a lost world, a world across the sea ; No compass guides there, never chart will show it — Green grows the grave there that holds the heart of me. Sunk lies my ship, and the cruel sea rejoices. Sharp are the reefs where the hungry breakers fret — Land so long lost to me ! — Youth, the Isle of Voices, Call never more to me — I who must forget. Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press CATALQCUEg/-PUB UCATIONS i895- List of Books IN BELLES LETT RES {^Including some Transfers) Published by John Lane VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. A^. B. — The Authors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting any book in this list if a new edition is called for, except in cases where a stipulation has been tnade to the contrary, afid of printing a separate edition of any of the books for America irrespective of the numbers to which the English editions are limited. The numbers mentioned do not include copies sent to the public libraries, nor those sent for review. Most of the books are published simultaneously in England and America, and in many instances the 7iames of the American Publishers are appended. ADAMS (FRANCIS). Essays in Modernity. Crown Svo. 5s. net. [Shortly. Chicago: Stone & Kimball. A Child of the Age. {See Keynotes Series.) ALLEN (GRANT). The Lower Slopes : A Volume of Verse. With Title- page and Cover Design by J. Illingworth Kay. 600 copies. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. The Woman Who Did. (6'i?e Keynotes Series.) The British Barbarians. (See Keynotes Series.) BAILEY (JOHN C). An Anthology of English Elegies. [In preparation. THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE BEARDSLEY (AUBREY). The Story of Venus and Tannhauser, in which is set forth an exact account of the Manner of State held by Madam Venus, Goddess and Meretrix, under the famous Horselberg, and containing the adventures of Tannhauser in that place, his repentance, his jour- neying to Rome, and return to the loving mountain. By Aubrey Beardsley. With 20 full-page illus- trations, numerous ornaments, and a cover from the same hand. Sq. i6mo. ios.6d.net. \_In preparation. BEDDOES (T. L.). See GossE (Edmund). BEECHING (Rev. H. C). In a Garden : Poems. With Title-page designed by Roger Fry. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. BENSON (ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER). Lyrics. Fcap. 8vo. , buckram. 5s. net. New York: Macmillan & Co. BRIDGES (ROBERT). Suppressed Chapters and other Bookishness. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. New York : Charles Scribner's Sons. BROTHERTON (MARY). Rosemary for Remembrance. With Title-page and Cover Design by Walter West. Fcap. 8vo. 3s.6d.net. BUCHAN (JOHN). Musa Piscatrix. \In preparation. CAMPBELL (GERALD). The Joneses and the Asterisks. {See Mayfair Set.) CASE (ROBERT). An Anthology of English Epithalamies. [/« preparation. CASTLE (Mrs. EGERTON). My Little Lady Anne. {See Pierrot's Library.) CASTLE (EGERTON). See Stevenson (Robert Louis). CRAIG (R. MANIFOLD). / The Sacrifice of Fools : A Novel. CVown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. W^In preparation. THE PUBLICATIONS OF CRANE (WALTER). Toy Books. Reissue, each with new Cover Design and End Papers, gd. net. The three bound in one volume with a decorative cloth cover, end papers, and a newly written and designed preface. 3s. 6d. net. Vol. I. This Little Pig. VoL XL The Fairy Ship. VoL III. King Luckieboy's Party. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. CROSSE (VICTORIA). • The Woman Who Didn't. {See Keynotes Series.) DAEMON (C. W.). Song Favours. With a Title-page by J. P. Donne. Sq. i6mo. 3s. 6d. net. Chicago : Way & Williams. D'ARCY (ELLA). Monochromes. {See Keynotes Series.) DAVIDSON (JOHN). Plays : An Unhistorical Pastoral ; A Romantic Farce ; Bruce, a Chronicle Play ; Smith, a Tragic Farce ; Scaramouch in Naxos, a Pantomime, wiih a Frontis- piece and Cover Design by Aubrey Beardsley. Printed at the Ballantyne Press. 500 copies. Small 4to. 7s. 6d. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. Fleet Street Eclogues. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 53. net. \Out of Print at present. A Random Itinerary and a Ballad. With a Fron- tispiece and Title-page by Laurence Housman. 600 copies. Fcap. 8vo, Irish Linen. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. Ballads and Songs. With a Title-page and Cover Design by WALTER West. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. DAWE (W. CARLTON). Yellow and White. (6"^^ Keynotes Series.) DE TABLEY (LORD). Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical. By John Leicester Warren (Lord De Tabley). Illustrations and Cover Design by C. S. Ricketis. Second Edition. Crown Svo. 7s. 6d. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. JOHN LANE DE TABLEY (LORD). Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical. Second Series, uni- form in binding with the former volume. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. DIX (GERTRUDE). The Girl from the Farm. {See Keynotes Series.) DOSTOIEVSKY (F.). See Keynotes Series, Vol. in. ECHEGARAY (JOSE). See Lynch (Hannah). EGERTON (GEORGE). Keynotes. {See Keynotes Series.) Discords. {See Keynotes Series.) Young Ofeg's Ditties. A translation from the Swedish of Ola Hansson. With Title-page and Cover Design by Aubrey Beardsley. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. Boston : Roberts Bros. FARR (FLORENCE). The Dancing Faun. {See Keynotes Series.) FLEMING (GEORGE). For Plain Women Only. (6"^!? Mayfair Set.) FLETCHER (J. S.). The Wonderful Wapentake. By 'A Son of the Soil.' With 18 full-page Illustrations by J. A. Symington. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. net. Chicago : A. C. JM-'Clurg & Co. FREDERIC (HAROLD). Mrs. Albert Grundy. {See Mayfair Set.) GALE (NORMAN). Orchard Songs. With Title-page and Cover Design by J. Illingworth Kay. Fcap. 8vo, Irish Linen. 5s. net. Also a Special Edition limited in number on hand-made paper bound in English vellum. £i, is. net. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. GARNETT (RICHARD). Poems. With Title-page by J. Illingworth Kay. 350 copies. Crown Svo. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. THE PUBLICATIONS OF GARNETT (RICHARD). Dante, Petrarch, Camoens, cxxiv Sonnets, rendered in English. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparatioti. GEARY (NEVILL). A Lawyer's Wife : A Novel. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. [/« preparation. GOSSE (EDMUND). The Letters of Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Now first edited. Pott 8vo. 5s. net. Also 25 copies large paper. 12s. 6d. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. GRAHAME (KENNETH). Pagan Papers : A Volume of Essays. With Title- page by Aubrey Beardsley. Fcap. Svo. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. The Golden Age. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. GREENE (G. A.). Italian Lyrists of To-day. Translations in the original metres from about thirty-five living Italian poets, with bibliographical and biographical notes. Crown Svo. 5s. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. GREENWOOD (FREDERICK). Imagination in Dreams. Crown Svo. 5s, net. New York : Macmillan & Co. HAKE (T. GORDON). A Selection from his Poems. Edited by Mrs. Meynell. With a Portrait after D. G. Rossetti, and a Cover Design by Gleeson White, Crown Svo. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. HANSSON (LAURA MARHOLM). Modern Women : Six Psychological Sketches. [Sophia Kovalevsky, George Egerton, Eleanora Duse, Amalie Skram, Marie Bashkirtseff, A. Edgren Letiiler]. Trans- lated from the German by Hermione Ramsden. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. net. \In preparation. HANSSON (OLA). See Egerton. HARLAND (HENRY). Grey Roses. i^See Keynotes Series.) JOHN LANE HAYES (ALFRED). The Vale of Arden and Other Poems. With a Title-page and a Cover designed by E. H. New. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. Also 25 copies large paper. 15s. net. HEINEMANN (WILLIAM) The First Step ; A Dramatic Moment. Small 410. 3s. 6d. net. HOPPER (NORA). Ballads in Prose. With a Title-page and Cover by Walter West. Sq. i6mo. 5s. net. Boston : Roberts Bros. A Volume of Poems. With Title-page designed by Patten Wilson. Sq. i6mo. 5s. net. [/« preparation. HOUSMAN (CLEMENCE). The Were Wolf. With six full-page Illustrations, Title- page, and Cover Design by Laurence Housman. Sq. l6mo. 4s. net. \_hi preparation. HOUSMAN (LAURENCE). Green Arras : Poems. With Illustrations by the Author. Crown 8vo. 5s.net. \_In preparation. IRVING (LAURENCE). GODEFROi AND YoLANDE : A Play. With three Illus- trations by Aubrey Beardsley. Sm. 410. 5s. net. [/« preparation. JAMES (W. P.). Romantic Professions : A Volume of Essays. With Title • page designed by J. Illingworth Kay. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. JOHNSON (LIONEL). The Art of Thomas Hardy : Six Essays. With Etched Portrait by Wm. Strang, and Bibliography by JOHN Lane. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. net. Also 150 copies, large paper, with proofs of the portrait. £1, is. net. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. JOHNSON (PAULINE). White Wampum : Poems. With a Title-page and Cover Design by E. H. New. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. Boston : Lamson Wolffe & Co. THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHNSTONE (C. E.). Ballads of Boy and Beak. With a Title-page by F. H. TOWNSEND. Sq. 32mo. 2s. 6d. net. \In preparation. KEYNOTES SERIES. Each volume with specially-designed Title-page by Aubrey Beardsley. Crown 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. net. Vol. I. Keynotes. By George Egerton. {^Seventh edition now ready. Vol. iL The Dancing Faun. By Florence Far'r. Vol. in. Poor Folk. Translated from the Russian of F. Dostoievsky by Lena Milman. With a Preface by George Moore. Vol. IV. A Child OF the Age. By Francis Adams. Vol. V. The Great God Pan and The Inmost Light. By Arthur Machen. \Second edition now ready. Vol. VI. Discords. By George Egerton. {^Fourth edition now ready. Vol. vn. Prince Zaleski. By M. P. Shiel. Vol. viii. The Woman who Did. By Grant Allen. [Eighteenth edition now ready. Vol. IX. Women's Tragedies. By H. D. Lowry. Vol. X. Grey Roses. By Henry Harland. Vol. XL At THE First Corner and Other Stories. By H. B. Marriott Watson. Vol. XII. Monochromes. By Ella D'Arcy. Vol. XIII. Atthe Relton Arms. By Evelyn Sharp. Vol. XIV. The Girl from the Farm. By Gertrude Dix. Vol. XV. The Mirror of Music. By Stanley V. Makower. Vol. XVI. Yellow and White. By W. Carlton Dawe. Vol. XVII. The Mountain Lovers. By Fiona Macleod. Vol. XVIII. The Woman Who Didn't. By Victoria Crosse. The following are in rapid preparation. Vol. XIX. The Three Impostors. By Arthur Machen. Vol. XX. Nobody's Fault. By Netta Syrett. JOHN LANE KEYNOTES SERIES— coniifmed. Vol. XXI, The British Barbarians. By Grant Allen. Vol. XXII. In Homespun. By E. Nesbit. Vol. XXIII. Platonic Affections. By John Smith. Vol. XXIV. Nets for the Wind. By Una Taylor. Vol. XXV. Orange and Green. By Caldwell Lipsett. Boston : Roberts Bros. KING (MAUDE EGERTON). Round about a Brighton Coach Office. With Thirty Illustrations by Lucy Kemp Welch. Cr. 8vo. 5s. net. \^In preparation. LANDER (HARRY). Weighed in the Balance : A Novel. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. \_In preparation. LANG (ANDREW). See Stoddart. LEATHER (R. K.). Verses. 250 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). Prose Fancies. With Portrait of the Author by Wilson Steer. Fourth Edition. Crown Svo. Purple cloth. 5s. net. Also a limited large paper edition. 12s. 6d. net. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. The Book Bills of Narcissus, An Account rendered by Richard le Gallienne. Third Edition. With a Frontispiece. Crown Svo. Purple cloth. 3s. 6d. net. Also 50 copies on large paper. Svo. los. 6d. net. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. Robert Louis Stevenson, an Elegy, and Other Poems, mainly Personal. With Etched Title-page by D. Y. Cameron. Cr. Svo. Purple cloth. 4s. 6d. net. Also 75 copies on large paper. Svo. 12s. 5d. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. English Poems. Fourth Edition, revised. Crown Svo. Purple cloth. 4s. 6d. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. THE PUBLICATIONS OF LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). Retrospective Reviews, A Literary Log, 1891-1895, 2 vols. Crown Svo. Purple cloth. 9s. net. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. \_In preparation. George Meredith: Some Characteristics. With a Biblio- graphy (much enlarged) by John Lane, portrait, etc. Fourth Edition. Cr. Svo. Purple cloth. 5s. 6d. net. The Religion of a Literary Man. 5th thousand. Crown Svo, Purple cloth. 3s. 6d. net. Also a special rubricated edition on hand-made paper. Svo. los. 6d. net. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. LIPSETT (CALDWELL). Orange and Green. (6"^^ Keynotes Series.) LOWRY (H. D.). Women's Tragedies. (,See Keynotes Series.) LUCAS (WINIFRED). A Volume of Poems. Fcap. Svo. 4s. 6d. net. [/« preparation. LYNCH (HANNAH). The Great Galeoto and Folly or Saintliness. Two Plays, from the Spanish of Jos£ ECHEGARAY, with an Introduction. Small 4to. 5s. 6d. net. Boston : Lamson Wolffe & Co. MACHEN (ARTHUR). The Great God Pan. {See Keynotes Series.) The Three Impostors, (^ee Keynotes Series.) MACLEOD (FIONA). The Mountain Lovers. {See Keynotes Series.) MAKOWER (STANLEY V.). The Mirror of Music. {See Keynotes Series.) MARZIALS (THEO.). The Gallery of Pigeons and Other Poems. Post Svo. 4s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. MATHEW (FRANK). The Wood of the Brambles : A Novel. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. [hi preparation. THE MAYFAIR SET. Each volume Fcap. Svo. 3s. 6d. net. Vol. I. The Autobiography of a Boy. Passages selected by his friend G. S. Street. With a Title-page designed by C. W. Furse. {Fourth Edition now ready. JOHN LANE THE MAYFAIR S'ET—contuitied. Vol. II. The Joneses and the Asterisks. A Story in Monologue. By Gerald Campbell. With a Title-page and Six Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. Vol. III. Select Conversations with an Uncle, NOW extinct. By H. G. Wells. With a Title-page by F. H. Townsend. The following are in preparation. Vol. IV. The Feasts of Autolycus : The Diary of a Greedy Woman. Edited by Elizabeth Robins Pennell. Vol. V. Mrs. Albert Grundy : Observations in Philistia. By Harold Frederic. Vol. VI. For Plain Women Only. By George Fleming. New York : The Merriam Co. MEREDITH (GEORGE). The First Published Portrait of this Author, engraved on the wood by W\ Biscombe Gardner, after the painting by G. F. Watts. Proof copies on Japanese vellum, signed by painter and engraver. £\, is. net. MEYNELL (MRS.) (ALICE C. THOMPSON). Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 3s.6d.net. {Out of Print at present. A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain, 12s. 6d. net. The Rhythm of Life and Other Essays. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain. i2s. 6d. net. See also Hake. MILLER (JOAQUIN). The Building of the City Beautiful. Fcap. Svo. With a Decorated Cover. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. MILMAN (LENA). Dostoievsky's Poor Folk. (6"££ Keynotes Series.) MONKHOUSE (ALLAN). Books and Plays : A Volume of Essays on Meredith, Borrow, Ibsen, and others. 400 copies. Crown Svo. 5s. net. Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co. MOORE (GEORGE). See Keynotes Series, Vol. iii. THE PUBLICATIONS OF NESBIT (E.). A Pomander of Verse. With a Title-page and Cover designed by Laurence Housman. Crown 8vo. 5s- net. [In preparation. Chicago : A. C. M^Clurg & Co. In Homespun. (i"etf Keynotes Series.) NETTLESHIP (J. T.). Robert Browning : Essays and Thoughts. Third Edition. With a Portrait. Crown 8vo. 53. 6d. net. New York : Chas. Scribner's Sons. NOBLE (JAS. ASHCROFT). The Sonnet in England and Other Essays. Title- page and Cover Design by Austin Young. 600 copies. Crown Svo. 5s. net. Also 50 copies large paper. 12s. 6d. net. O'SHAUGHNESSY (ARTHUR). His Life and His Work. With Selections from his Poems. By Louise Chandler Moulton. Por- trait and Cover Design. Fcap. Svo. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. OXFORD CHARACTERS. A series of lithographed portraits by Will Rothenstein, with text by F. York Powell and others. To be issued monthly in term. Each number will contain two portraits. Parts L to VL ready. 200 sets only, folio, wrapper, 5s. net per part ; 25 special large paper sets containing proof impressions of the por- traits signed by the artist, ids. 6d. net per part. PENNELL (ELIZABETH ROBINS). The Feasts of Autolycus. {See May fair Set.) PETERS (WM. THEODORE). Posies out of Rings. Sq. i6mo. 3s. 6d. net. [/« preparation. PIERROT'S LIBRARY. Each volume with Title-page, Cover Design, and End Papers, designed by Aubrey Beardsley. Sq. i6mo. 2s. 6d. net. The following are in preparation. Vol. I. Pierrot. By H. de Vere Stacpoole. Vol. II. My Little Lady Anne. By Mrs. Egerton Castle. Vol. III. Death, the Knight, and the Lady. By H. DE Vere Stacpoole. JOHN LANE 13 PIERROT'S lAQKP^KY— continued. Vol. IV. Simplicity. By A. T. G. Price. Philadelphia : Henry Altemus. PISSARRO (LUCIEX). The Queen of the Fishes. A Story of the Valois, adapted by Margaret Rust, being a printed manu- script, decorated with pictures and other ornaments, cut on the wood by Lucien Pissarro, and printed by him in divers colours and in gold at his press in Epping. Edition limited to Jo copies, each num- bered and signed. Crown 8vo, on Japanese hand- made paper, bound in vellum, ^i net. PLARR (VICTOR). Ix the Dorian Mood : Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [/« preparation. PRICE (A. T. G.). Simplicity. {See Pierrot's Library.) RADFORD (DOLLIE). Songs and other Verses. With a Title-page by Patten Wilson. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co. RAMSDEN (HERMIONE). See Hansson. RICKETTS (C. S.)AND C. H. SHANNON. Hero and Leander. By Christopher Marlowe and George Chapman. With Borders, Initials, and Illustrations designed and engraved on the wood by C. S. RicKETTS and C. H. Shannon. Bound in English vellum and gold. 200 copies only. 35s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. RHYS (ERNEST). A London Rose and Other Rhymes. With Title-page designed by Selwyn Image. 350 copies. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. ROBERTSON (JOHN M). Essays towards a Critical Method. (New Series. ) Crown 8vo. 5s. net, [/« preparation. ROBINSON (C. NEWTON). The Viol of Love. With Ornaments and Cover design by Laurence Housman. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. Boston : Lamson Wolffe & Co. 14 THE PUBLICATIONS OF ST. CYRES (LORD). The Little Flowers of St. Francis : A new reri' dering into English of the Fioretti di San Francesco. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparation. SHARR (EVELYN). At the Relton Arms, (5^e Keynotes Series.) SHIEL (M, P.). Prince Zaleski. {See Keynotes Series.) SMITH (JOHN). Platonic Affections. {See Keynotes Series.) STACPOOLE (H. DE VERE). Pierrot: a Story, (^'e^ Pierrot's Library.) Death, the Knight, and the Lady. {See Pierrot's Library.) STEVENSON (ROBERT LOUIS). Prince Otto. A Rendering in French by Egerton Castle. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [/« preparation. Also 100 copies on large paper, uniform in size with the Edinburgh Edition of the Works. A Child's Garden of Verses. With nearly 100 Illus- trations by Charles Robinson. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [1)1 preparatioft. STODDART (THOS. TOD). The Death Wake. With an Introduction by Andrew Lang. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. Chicago : Way & Williams. STREET (G. S.). The Autobiography of a Boy. [See Mayfair Set.) New York : The Merriam Co. Miniatures and Moods. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. Transferred by the Author to the present Pubtislier. New York : The Merriam Co. SWETTENHAM (F. A.). Malay Sketches. With a Title-page and Cover Design by Patten Wilson. Crown Svo. 5s. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. SYRETT (NETTA). Nobody's Fault, (i'^e Keynotes Series.) TABB (JOHN B.). Poems. Sq. 32mo. 4s. 6d. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. I JOHN LANE 15 TAYLOR (UNA). Nets for the Wind, (^'ge Keynotes Series.) TENNYSON (FREDERICK). Poems of the Day and Year. With a Title-page designed by Patten Wilson. Crown Svo. 5s. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. THIMM (C. A.). A Complete Bibliography of the Art of Fence, Duelling, etc. With Illustrations. [/« preparation. THOMPSON (FRANCIS). Poems. With Frontispiece, Title-page, and Cover Design by Laurence Housman. Fourth Edition. Pott 4to. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. Sister-Songs: An Offering to Two Sisters. With Frontis- piece, Title-page, and Cover Design by Laurence Housman. Pott 410. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. THOREAU (HENRY DAVID). Poems of Nature. Selected and edited by Henry S. Salt and Frank B. Sanborn, with a Title-page designed by Patten Wilson. Fcap. Svo. 4s. 6d. net. [/« preparation. Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifdin & Co. TYNAN HINKSON (KATHARINE). Cuckoo Songs. With Title-page and Cover Design by Laurence Housman. Fcap. Svo. 5s. net. Boston : Copeland & Day. Miracle Plays. Our Lord's Coming and Child- hood. With six Illustrations and a Title-page by Patten Wilson. Fcap. Svo. net. Chicago : Stone & Kimball. [/« preparation. WATSON (ROSAMUND MARRIOTT). Vespertilia and other Poems. With a Title-page de- signed by R. Anning Bell. Fcap. Svo. 4s. 6d. net. Chicago : Way & Williams. A Summer Night and Other Poems. New Edition. With a Decorative Title-page. Fcap. Svo. 3s. net. Chicago : Way & Williams. [/« preparation. WATSON (H. B. MARRIOTT). The King's Highway. Crown Svo. 4s. 6d. net. \In preparation. At the First Corner. {See Keynotes Series.) i6 THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHN LANE WATSON (WILLIAM). Odes AND Other Poems. Fourth Edition. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 4s. 6d. net. New York : Macmillan & Co, The Eloping Angels : A Caprice. Second Edition. Square i6mo, buckram. 3s. 6d. net. New York : Macmillan & Co. Excursions in Criticism : being some Prose Recrea- tions of a Rhymer. Second Edition. Cr. 8vo. 5s.net. New York : Macmillan & Co. The Prince's Quest and Other Poems. With a Bibliographical Note added. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. WATT (FRANCIS). The Law's Lumber Room. Fcap. 8vo. 3s, 6d. net. Chicago : A. C. M'^Clurg & Co. WATTS (THEODORE). Poems. Crown 8vo. 5s.net. yin preparation. There will also be an Edition de Luxe oj this volume printed at the Kelniscott Press. WELLS (H. G.). Select Conversations with an Uncle. (See Mayfair Set.) WHARTON (H. T.). Sappho. Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings, and a LiteralTranslationby Henry Thornton Wharton. With three Illustrations in photogravure, and a Cover designed by Aubrey Beardsley. Fcap. 8vo. 7$. 6d. net. Chicago : A. C. M«Clurg & Co. THE YELLOW BOOK An Illustrated Quarterly Pott Afto. 5j. net. Vol. I. April 1894, 272 pp., 15 Illustrations. [ Out of print. July 1894, 364 pp., 23 Illustrations. "October 1894, 280 pp., 15 Illustrations. January 1895, 285 pp., 16 Illustrations. April 1895, 317 pp., 14 Illustrations. July 1895, 335 pp., 16 Illustrations. Boston : Copeland & Day. Vol. II. Vol. Ill Vol. IV, Vol. V, Vol. VI UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. ^tC' s>\^^' '•Ar University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. M/\y •re 3 1158 01015 46! UC SOUTHER^J REOIONAL LIBRARY FACILITV AA 000 368 885 o PR 571^8 W337V