OFCALIFORN! 
 
 S ANGELES 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 MAY TREAT MORRISON 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 ALEXANDER F MORRISON
 
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 INTRODUCTION 
 
 James Dryden Hosken was born at Helston, a small 
 market town in the south-west of Cornwall, on June 
 14th, 1861. His father, Henry Hosken, was an iron- 
 (£ founder and a man of unusual attainments outside his 
 £] trade, possessing (it is reported) a considerable stock 
 of Greek and Latin, and much dexterity with the 
 Mathematics : during the last years of his life, too, he 
 made fair progress in the study of Hebrew. His death, 
 
 in 1870, left his son to face a somewhat dismal child- 
 
 5 
 
 <£ hood. The boy was but nine years old, and weak- 
 chested : and the straitened economies of home could 
 afford him no better education than that provided by 
 
 yj the Helston National School. 
 
 The town of Helston has some natural advantages, 
 
 O and lies within easy reach, not only of the fine coast 
 scenery of the Lizard district, but also of the beautiful 
 
 vii 
 
 434393
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and little-known Helfonl river; but it may be fairly 
 called somnolent on any day of the year except the 
 8th of May, when its citizens wake up to celebrate 
 the Flora or Furry-day, — a pagan festival of dateless 
 antiquity and forgotten origin. The genuine ritual of 
 this revel, stripped of such modern accretions as a Dog- 
 show and Bazaar, is accurately described in Miss M. A. 
 Courtney's Cornish Feasts and Folk-Lore. The revel 
 begins at daybreak, when the men and maid-servants 
 with their friends go into the country to breakfast. 
 These are the ' Hal-an-tow.' They troop back about 
 eight, laden with green boughs, preceded by a drum 
 and singing the Hal-an-tow song, with the refrain — 
 
 ' With Hal-an-tow ! llumbelow ! 
 For we are up as soon as any day O ! 
 And for to fetch the summer home, 
 The summer and the May O ! 
 For summer is a-come O ! 
 And winter is a-^o ! ' 
 
 These singers are privileged to levy contributions 
 on strangers coming into the town. Meanwhile peals 
 have been rung on the church-bells, and at nine the 
 grammar-school boys demand their prescriptive holi- 
 day. At noon the Flora-dance is started from the 
 
 viii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 market-house, the Mayor himself leading off, and the 
 respectable townsfolk, male and female, gyrate through 
 the streets ; in at the front-doors of the houses that 
 have been left open for them, ringing every bell, 
 knocking at every knocker, and out at the back ; some- 
 times making the circuit of a garden or descending 
 into a cellar. Two beadles, their wands wreathed 
 with flowers, and a band with a gaily-decorated drum, 
 head the procession, which ends with ' hands across ' 
 at the Angel Hotel, where there is always a ball in 
 the evening. 
 
 But these and other blameless excesses are for the 
 8th of May only. On ordinary market-days you will 
 find little to wonder at in Helston except the number 
 of omnibuses that line its steep main street. Certainly 
 the place seems but to have inspired young James 
 Dryden Hosken with an early and vehement desire to 
 leave it, and try his fortune in a wider field ; and in 
 the midsummer of 1880 — after a brief apprenticeship 
 to saddlery, which weakened his already delicate health 
 — he fared up to London, with a little money in his 
 pocket, and began to look about for work. At this 
 time, though a voracious reader of all books that came 
 
 ix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 in his way, he had written little or nothing, and hail 
 scarcely turned his thoughts towards verse. His 
 genius, as I shall hope to show, is meditative rather 
 than perceptive ; and to a genius of this order pre- 
 cocity is peculiarly dangerous. The direct perceptions 
 of a very young man may he vivid, original, valuable : 
 his meditations upon the universal scheme and man's 
 place in it, if not second-hand, will pretty certainly 
 be crude. We may therefore hold it fortunate that 
 Mr. Hosken's poetic activity and his acquaintance with 
 real life developed together. In the summer of 1880 
 his energies were wholly devoted to hunting for work 
 in London, — to the elementary pursuit of an honest 
 meal. 
 
 As his resources dwindled, he drifted further and 
 further east from his first lodgings near the Penton- 
 ville Road, and might have been carried straight on 
 for the despair he was fast approaching, had not an 
 accident set him on his feet. An old gentleman, 
 whom he was fortunate enough to rescue from under 
 the wheels of a passing tram, procured him an intro- 
 duction which led to the offer of a post as Extra Out- 
 door Officer in H. M. Customs. He was stationed at 
 
 x
 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the Royal Albert Docks. As every one knows, half the 
 wild adventures and floating wickedness of this planet 
 find their way, at one time or another, through the 
 Royal Albert Docks ; and life in their neighbourhood 
 has a colour of its own, which is not the drab of con- 
 ventional respectability. The life which Mr. Hosken 
 made acquaintance with during the next two years 
 was lawless, lewd, tumultuous, and abominably vicious; 
 but with a certain large freedom of its own, unknown 
 in the village or small town where the poor man lives 
 in the shadow of his rich superior. At any rate, Mr. 
 Hosken can look back on these two years and be glad 
 of them, as indeed he has a right to be, for (odd as it 
 sounds) they laid the foundations on which he has 
 built a singularly pure and spiritual philosophy of life. 
 His health, which had been improving, broke down, 
 however, as soon as he was removed from the water- 
 side and stationed in the City ; and he was forced to 
 throw up the Customs and cast himself on the stream 
 again. At one time he picked up a bare living as a 
 theatrical ' super ' ; at another he acted as Librarian 
 and Secretary to a small religious establishment in 
 Cornwall; but finally, in 1885, declined the struggle 
 
 xi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 in which his physical strength was continually betray- 
 ing him, and returned to Helston, where in time em- 
 ployment was found for him as an auxiliary postman. 
 In 1889 he was transferred to the General Post Office, 
 London, as one of the indoor staff, but the confinement 
 of the place again compelled him to abandon London 
 and return to the countiy, where he took up his old 
 position in the Helston Office. 
 
 This occupation he has now followed for seven yeai - s 
 and more, and as a set-off against the tenuity of his 
 stipend it can only be pleaded that the necessary 
 exercise in the open air has made a man of him once 
 more. He is now married and has two children : is of 
 middling stature, slight, but well made, and of a warm 
 complexion that masks his constitutional weakness. 
 The upper part of the head curiously recalls the 
 accepted portraits of Shakespeare, the brow being 
 high and broadly domed, but in Mr. Hosken's case 
 slightly overbalancing the jaws and mouth ; the hair 
 fine, brown, and curling ; the eyes, as Aubrey would 
 say, ' full and popping,' the iris grey and the expression 
 at once dreamy and bright. In fact, so far as the face 
 may go, no poet ever carried a better testimonial, 
 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 were it not in danger of being belied by the native 
 simplicity and modesty of Mr. Hosken's manner. 
 
 Indeed if modesty could have prevented it, his 
 poems had never seen daylight. He had begun to 
 write in London, and at home his poems grew until 
 they filled a fair-sized chest: but the lid was kept 
 down, and the secret only leaked out by the merest 
 chance. It came to the ears of Mr. R. G. Rows, a 
 County Councillor and an orator of renown throughout 
 Cornwall, that the young postman had written some 
 satirical verses that were worth a look, on local affairs 
 in Helston. By dint of questioning he obtained, not 
 indeed the satire, but a confession that there lay at 
 home a pile of serious work, lyric, epic, and dramatic, 
 which (the author hoped) was better worth seeing. 
 These being shown, Mr. Rows at once detected their 
 worth, considerable in any case, and fairly astonishing 
 to one who knew the circumstances under which they 
 were produced : and from that time has proved himself 
 an untiring friend of the poet. Through his encour- 
 agement a small volume, in an orange-coloured paper 
 wrapper, was produced for private circulation by a 
 printer in Penzance. It contained a poetic drama Vhaon 
 
 xiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and Sappho, and a number of lyrics, some of which 
 are reprinted in the present volume. The pecuniary 
 success of this adventure was not startling : but copies 
 of the book found their way to London, and there 
 evoked a small chorus of praise from critics who could 
 be trusted to know poetry when they saw it. Some 
 fugitive lyrics began to appear in Longman s Magazine, 
 at the recommendation of Mr. Andrew Lang : and 
 soon there came an offer from Messrs. Macmillan to 
 republish Phaon and Sappho for a larger public. The 
 volume (which included Nin/rod, another poetical 
 drama) appeared last year. Five-act poetical dramas 
 at this time of day are not the easiest path to fame, 
 and the author had chosen models which, if first-rate 
 in theory, are in fact something too antique for modern 
 taste : but here was a man with the genuine vein of 
 gold in him, and the critics detected this and pro- 
 claimed it. To Mr. Hosken's great credit he did not 
 lose his head amid the fumes of incense burnt by the 
 reviews, as well as by ladies and gentlemen anxious to 
 be early in their appreciation of that strange animal, a 
 ' Postman-poet,' but (so to speak) — 
 
 ' Went on cutting bread and butter.' 
 xiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 A few months ago Mr. Gladstone, one of his warm 
 admirers, sanctioned a grant of £100 to Mr. Hosken, 
 and it is hoped that as his fame grows he may find 
 means of livelihood more consistent with his merits 
 and abilities than his present employment. But up to 
 the present, Helston continues to receive its letters 
 at the hands of one whose poetical gifts are as indubit- 
 able as the high character and fine courage with which 
 he has fought the battle of life against heavy odds. 
 
 The popular fancy conceives a ' Postman-poet ' as a 
 melodious being, skipping between green hedgerows 
 with Her Majesty's mail, and pausing ever and again 
 to note a drooping cux"ve of woodbine, or catch, and 
 perhaps reproduce, the blackbird's silvery impromptu. 
 There once lived at Bideford, in Devon, one Edward 
 Capern, who answered in many resjiects to this 
 description : but he drove a pony-cart. And when 
 applied to James Dryden Hosken the conception is 
 almost ludicrously inept. His daily round does not 
 lie between green hedgerows, and his eye for the 
 common objects of an English landscape is not that of 
 
 xv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 a Tennyson nor yet of a Jefferies. To be sure, he can 
 paint a picture if occasion arises, as here, for instance — 
 
 ' Love breathes upon my memory, and I see 
 
 The scene within my mind lost in time past, 
 The ceaseless sun descending in the sea, 
 
 The huge dark waves against the boulders cast, 
 The solitude of nature, if such be, 
 
 The momentary lull, broke by the roar 
 Of billows, or the sea-birds' noisy glee 
 
 Around the time-sapped crags and gullies hoar.' 
 
 But he brings to natural scenery neither the ecstatic 
 worship of Shelley, nor the reverent and curious awe of 
 Wordsworth, nor the open-eyed delight with which 
 Chaucer and Shakespeare followed all our English 
 calendar, nor Marvell's alert gaze, that could 
 
 ' Through the hazels thick espy 
 The hatching throstle's shining eye ;' 
 
 * 
 
 nor Tennyson's, that could note 
 
 ' The curled white of the coming wave 
 Glassed in the slippery sand before it breaks.' 
 
 Between bird and bird, or flower and flower, Mr. 
 Hosken scarcely discriminates. His garden is stocked 
 after the old approved poetical fashion, with daisies, 
 violets, roses and nightingales. It does not matter to 
 
 xvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 him that the nightingale never sings, neither is seen, 
 
 in that corner of England where he writes; nor does 
 
 it occur to him to introduce into his landscape the 
 
 beautiful and singular Cornish heath that grows in 
 
 such profusion around his home. In short he is no 
 
 hymner of natural phenomena, but employs the 
 
 simplest only, and these merely as literary devices to 
 
 give the colour of a human mood or thought, as — 
 
 f How sweet the transient dream and reverie 
 Like twilight's purple whig, sank on my heart.' 
 
 Or— 
 
 ' Panting for that great calm that hangs o'er heaven 
 Profound and vast as God, here am I thrown. . . .' 
 
 Or again in the song on page 35 that opens with a 
 gush of pure melody that Shelley would not have 
 disdained — 
 
 ( There 's a stillness in the stars, 
 
 And a sleep upon the earth, 
 And the day with all its jars 
 
 Is a dead jest, void of mirth. 
 And my heart is breaking, sweet, 
 
 With the memory of that hour, 
 When our happiness complete 
 
 Sprang and blossomed like a flower.' 
 
 For it is with man that he is mainly concerned ; con- 
 b xvii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 tern plating him at war with circumstance, and specu- 
 lating upon the issues of the tangled game. I pointed 
 out just now, that Mr. Hosken's poetical activity and 
 his experience of London and its struggle for life 
 developed together ; and after learning how hard the 
 struggle went with him, we need not wonder that his 
 meditation runs at times too nearly to despair, as in 
 the fine verses upon Destiny (pp. 28, 29). But to call 
 him a despairing singer would be signally unjust. At 
 the worst he shows a noble disappointment, but never 
 ceases seeking for the clue of the tangle, for some 
 Platonic Idea that shall afford the mind stable foothold 
 amid the clashing currents of circumstance, and be 
 discernible as a fixed mark of justice amid the flux of 
 iniquitous phenomena. Upon this search the poet's 
 imagination is despatched, like Noah's dove : and 
 though it may come back with little news, the poet 
 has the courage and humour to recognise that even 
 in the act of searching there is recompence. At 
 the close of the sonnet sequence ' Via Amoris ' 
 — which I may here remark is in its main lines 
 autobiographical — he finds his solace playfully in the 
 exercise of his art : — 
 
 xviii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 ' O holiday of fair creative power, 
 That sets the spirit on a wheel of joy ! . . .' 
 
 while in the conclusion of that fine poem entitled 
 'Broken Sentences from a Blotting- Pad/ we are met 
 with the sterner comfort that all effort must be its 
 own reward : — 
 
 ( A moment do we rest, no more, and then 
 Some new desire awakes, and all is o'er — 
 Rest is decay, to labour is to grow — 
 All the high idols of the past are shrunk 
 Gleaming within their niches far away, 
 And we behold above our heads appear 
 Far other heights we never dreamed were there ; 
 For while we thought we climbed some mighty Alp, 
 We only scaled some puny eminence 
 That lay within the shadow at its base. ' 
 
 I have probably said enough to show that while 
 Mr. Hosken's poetry is largely sensuous in form — and 
 sensuousness remains the constant atti-ibute of all good 
 verse — its inspiration is in the main intellectual. It 
 is meditative work. I am the more anxious to insist 
 upon this, having remarked that upon the appearance 
 of Phaon and Sappho one or two critics, observing that 
 the poet had chosen a Shakespearian model, and 
 detecting a very obvious looseness of dramatic grip in 
 
 xix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the tragedy, jumped to the conclusion that here was 
 no more than a weak and belated imitator of Shake- 
 speare. But in passing this judgment they lost sight 
 of two important points. In the first place, Phaon and 
 Sappho was the work of a young man, whose develop- 
 ment too had been retarded by the circumstances of 
 his education. A young man must have models while 
 feeling his way to a style and method of his own : and 
 this being granted, can he choose a better model than 
 Shakespeare ? ' But,' the critics will answer, ' Mr. 
 Hosken gave little evidence of dramatic power.' This 
 brings me to the second point. Be it allowed that he 
 has little dramatic power, and that (since the poem 
 professed to be a tragedy) dramatic power was what 
 you reasonably looked for. But an alert critic, con- 
 sidering the work of a beginner, will have an eye for 
 the bye-strokes as well as the main ones : and if the 
 author, while missing with the main, prove effective 
 with the bye — if Mr. Hosken, while failing *to con- 
 struct a satisfactory drama, gave evidence of strength 
 in many fine meditative passages — then at the worst 
 he stands convicted of a youthful error in choosing a 
 literary form unsuited to convey his thought. In my 
 
 xx
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 humble opinion, Mr. Hosken is sufficiently vindicated 
 by this little volume. Say what we will, our interest 
 in the Shakespearian drama has become largely 
 antiquarian. In its day it combined with the presenta- 
 tion of a dramatic story much rhetoric, much lyric 
 poetry, much philosophical exposition. We in the 
 nineteenth century have specialised these different 
 functions ; we take our lyric poetry in handy volumes ; 
 we have relegated declamation to the platform and 
 the pulpit, and philosophy to the arm-chair, and com- 
 plain if a playwright obscures with any of these the 
 'acting properties' of his play. We are too familiar 
 with Shakespeare to find him out of fashion as a 
 dramatist, and too reverent to complain if we did : let 
 a modern author, however, revert to the Elizabethan 
 model, and at once we feel the anachronism and begin 
 to talk about Wardour Street. 
 
 But while the drama has restricted its scope, that 
 of the sonnet has remained, and will remain, unchanged, 
 and for this reason the sonnets in the present volume — 
 though Shakespeare be still the inspiration, and though 
 their diction lie even closer to Shakespeare's — have 
 none of that belated air which offended in Phaon and 
 
 xxi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Sappho. If an imitator, he is certainly no weak one 
 
 who could write the two sonnets on ' Old-World 
 
 Dreams' (pp. 13, 14) with the rhythmically dexterous 
 
 opening — 
 
 ' Would this unquenched spirit now could take 
 One sip of that immortal beverage, 
 Wherewith th' Olympians were wont to slake 
 Their divine thirst in a long-buried age ; 
 That I might feel mortality fall away 
 With the harsh noises of this feverish earth ! . . . ' 
 
 or pen this exquisite conceit upon his mistress — 
 
 ' Thou art a gem 
 Set on the wrinkled forehead of wide death, 
 Whose glad diffusive splendour must condemn 
 All thought that undervalues human breath ' ; 
 
 or catch Shakespeare's very note in such lines as — 
 
 ' O that this calculating soul would cease 
 
 To forecast accidents, time's limping errors, 
 And take the present with the present's peace, 
 
 Instead of filling life's poor day with terrors ! . . . ' 
 
 But indeed all talk of imitation here is a mistake. For 
 the poet is plainly thinking for himself, not only when 
 quite obviously original, but even when hammering 
 out a reflection already obvious to men of wide reading 
 who have all the world's literature to start upon. 
 
 xxii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Still, we who admire Mr. Hosken desire to lay 
 little stress on the ' Postman-poet ' plea. We desire 
 his work to be brought to the final test of all poetry, 
 and judged on its own merits. It is doubtful (to say 
 the least) if a poet is the better for being also a post- 
 man ; for though light walking exercise may agreeably 
 titillate the brain, the double-knock and delivery of 
 letters must certainly distract it. But in estimating a 
 young writer, one of our first questions should be, 
 What is his capacity for growth ? And it is important 
 to the answer to know what were his beginnings and 
 what his obstacles. The reader may have further 
 assurance that Mr. Hosken is a growing poet by 
 turning to the poems ' The Doubt ' and ' O should we 
 meet again ' in this volume — two of his earliest pro- 
 ductions — and comparing their thin facility with the 
 deep and considered music of ' Robin Hood,' his latest 
 lyi"ic, written but a week or two ago : — 
 
 f I read ' A lytell geste of Robyn Hode ' 
 
 Within an ancient forest far withdrawn : — 
 The story rapt me in a wondrous mood 
 And I outread the dawn. 
 There was a trembling light upon the page, 
 The meeting of the morning and the day — 
 
 xxiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The dcwdrop shook not on the silent spray, 
 The world forgot its age — 
 The silent golden world, that morn in May. 
 
 I looked and saw a merry company 
 
 Down the green avenue with laugh and song, 
 And little joyful noises come along; 
 Then died the tyranny 
 
 Of this grey world in me, with hoary wrong. 
 
 There saw I : — Robin with his fearless brow 
 
 And eye of frolic love ; Maid Marian ; 
 The moon-faced Tuck ; and, sporting 'neath a bough, 
 
 John, Robin's master man. 
 Scarlet, and Much, and all the outlaw clan, 
 With polished horn and bow, in Lincoln green, 
 Moved ceaselessly between the leafy screen. 
 A natural freedom ran 
 Through every spirit on that sylvan scene. 
 
 Anon I heard their horns begin to blow — 
 Then, in despite of age and time, arose 
 A woodland song that leaning on her bow 
 Maid Marian thus did close : 
 c O mad, mad world ! O happy life of ours ! 
 Sing and be merry — evil is a thought 
 Which our own natural lives have brought to nought ! 
 O happy, happy hours ! 
 Who cares to fret and pine for what is not ? . . . 
 
 xxiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I may be wrong, but when a man can handle 
 language in this fashion, I am ready to salute him for a 
 true poet. 
 
 A. T. QUILLER-COUCH. 
 
 May 20th, 1893. 
 
 XXV
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Via Amoris — A Sonnet Sequence 
 
 A LIFE'S SECRET 
 
 I bear within the casket of my soul, . 
 
 THE COMING OF LOVE 
 
 ' There's not a power in stern philosophy, . 
 
 A MEMORY OF LOVE 
 
 How sweet the transient dream and reverie, 
 
 THE CONFESSION 
 
 When I did make confession of my love, 
 
 COUNSEL 
 
 O that this calculating soul would cease, . 
 
 TO A LADY 
 
 One hour of passion carries to the grave, . 
 
 xxvii 
 
 i'AGE
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 A LOVER'S MEDITATION ON HIS LADY 
 
 The lonely thoughts that issue from my mind, . 9 
 
 A LOVER'S FANCIES 
 
 Looking within thine eyes what do I read ? 10 
 
 THE PEACE OF LOVE 
 
 O Love, how full of comfort is thy soul ! . 1 1 
 
 THE AFTERLIGHT 
 
 As a sick man within a half dark room, 1 2 
 
 OLD WORLD DREAMS 
 
 Would this unquenched spirit now could take, . 13 
 
 OLD WORLD DREAMS 
 
 O ! to be now a creature of delight, . . 14 
 
 THE BROAD WAY 
 
 Tormented by ourselves, and time, and earth, . 15 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE WORLD 
 
 My heart sinks when I look upon the world, 16 
 
 DAY DREAMS 
 
 To musings high, and dreamings not of earth, . 17 
 
 xxviii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE PARTING 
 
 Thy secret to my too inquiring' eye, . . • 18 
 
 ALONE 
 
 Panting for that great calm that hangs o'er heaven, 19 
 
 LOVE AND CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 O Circumstance ! what ruin thou hast made, . 20 
 
 A MEDITATION 
 
 My life is but a study how to die, . . . 21 
 
 QUESTIONINGS 
 
 Bereft of everything but hopelessness, . . 22 
 
 THE INCONSTANCY OF THE MUSE 
 
 O wayward Muse ! inconstant grown of late, 23 
 
 Lyrics 
 
 SONG 
 
 Sink gently in the silent sea, .... 27 
 
 DESTINY 
 
 Where heaven, bright flashing through the deeps, 28 
 
 xxix
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I'AGli 
 
 .MAKE NO SWEET PROMISES 
 
 Make no sweet promises of truth, ... 30 
 
 SONG 
 
 I am so desolate, 31 
 
 SONG 
 
 It is a solitary land, ...... 33 
 
 THERE'S A STILLNESS IN THE STARS 
 
 There 's a stillness in the stars, .... 35 
 
 HYMN TO MUSIC 
 
 Thou who dost dwell, and art a living passion, . yj 
 
 SONG 
 
 Now silent hangs the universe, . . . . 41 
 
 SONG 
 
 At last in death I find thee, .... 42 
 
 THE VIOLET 
 
 I get my hue from heaven's own hlue, . . 44 
 
 THERE WAS A POWER IN THEE 
 
 There was a power in thee, that from my soul, . 45 
 
 xxx
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE DOUBT 
 
 A youth beside a maiden strayed, ... 48 
 
 O SHOULD WE MEET AGAIN ! 
 
 Though years have fled unheeded by, . . 50 
 
 LOVE AND EARTH'S ECHOES 
 
 Love that is spoken often dies, . . . . 53 
 
 ROBIN HOOD 
 
 I read ' A lytell geste of Robyn Hode ' . . 55 
 
 Broken Sentences from a Blotting-Pad 
 
 THE LOVER'S LETTER 
 
 It chanced while being in that idle mood, . . 61 
 
 THE POET'S LETTER 
 
 Upon the other side of that worn pad, . . 69 
 
 Epistle to a Friend in the Ditch 
 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN THE DITCH 
 
 Now some have sense and little cash, . . 77 
 
 xxxi
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 A SONNET SEQUENCE
 
 1 > 
 
 > 1 
 
 > > 
 
 
 
 A LIFE'S secklt 
 
 I bear within the casket of my soul 
 
 The image of a far-off bygone love 
 
 Dwelling in loneliness, supreme above 
 Life's little tale of errors. The long toll 
 
 Of death's sad bell striking a sick man's ear 
 Bids not more melancholv thoughts to roll 
 Within the moving ocean of the mind, 
 
 Than when this memory stands distinct and clear 
 Before my sight, what time the Night hath lined 
 
 The concave universe with stars : I strive 
 To banish all the thoughts that It creates 
 
 With sterner meditations, but alive 
 Like to the Phoenix, still it emanates 
 From its own dust, and with my fancy mates.
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE COMING OF LOVE 
 
 ii 
 
 'There's not a power in stern philosophy 
 Sufficient to control this eating grief, 
 No mortal circumstance can bring relief — ' 
 This was my constant cry — ' Ah wretched me ! 
 Beyond the passing hour I nothing see, 
 But the dead flower, sour fruit, and blasted leaf, 
 And all the haggard shapes of misery, 
 With haunting care, life's ever-present thief.' 
 Thus as I sorrowed — 'twas the year's fresh prime— 
 I saw a form born of the heaven and earth, 
 Clad in unparalleled grace, defying time 
 With her rich loveliness, that made a dearth 
 Of beauty in the world : Love rang his chime, 
 And youth came back to me with hope and mirth. 
 
 4
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 A MEMORY OF LOVE 
 
 in 
 
 How sweet the transient dream and reverie, 
 Like twilight's purple wing, sank on my heart 
 In that fair season when I sat by Thee, 
 List ning thy song that shamed Apollo's art! 
 Love breathes upon my memory, and I see 
 The scene within my mind lost in time past, 
 The ceaseless sun descending in the sea, 
 The huge dark waves against the boulders cast, 
 The solitude of nature, if such be, 
 The momentary lull, broke by the roar 
 Of billows, or the sea-birds' noisy glee 
 Around the time-sapped crags and gullies hoar ; 
 While thou wert by me : still in these I find 
 A shadow of thy presence left behind. 
 
 5
 
 VIA AMOKIS 
 
 THE CONFESSION 
 
 IV 
 
 When I did make confession of my love, 
 
 That kiss of thine did steal my doubts away ; 
 
 The hypocrite thou couldst no longer prove — 
 
 ' I love thee — peace/ that kiss of thine did say. 
 
 I felt thy lips ; no longer did I dream 
 
 The consummation of my heart's one prayer : 
 
 In my great darkness, lo ! a sudden gleam ! 
 
 My spirit sought my eyes, and nestled there ; 
 
 And looking into them was that the cause 
 
 That thou didst kiss them, ere my love could speak ? 
 
 Say in that eloquent, yet silent pause 
 
 Didst thou discern it ere my words could break 
 
 The brooding summer's air ? — my life ! what gladness 
 Free'd all my being, overjoyed to madness ! 
 
 6
 
 VIA AMOIUS 
 
 COUNSEL 
 
 O that this calculating soul would cease 
 To forecast accidents, time's limping errors, 
 And take the present with the present's peace, 
 Instead of filling life's poor day with terrors ! 
 We would forestall the wisdom of the skies 
 By possibilities and half-drawn plans, 
 And flounder on where we should nimbly rise, 
 And in despair sit down with folded hands. 
 There is no certainty in happiness, 
 Nor does a sorrow live throughout our life; 
 We shew our wisdom when we onward press, 
 For still th' anticipation of the strife 
 
 Is than the strife more dreadful, and has been : 
 The shades of fears far oft' are soonest seen. 
 
 7
 
 VIA A.MORIS 
 
 TO A LADY 
 
 \i 
 
 One hour of passion carries to the grave 
 
 A world of resolution and high hope: 
 
 Why should I be the bent subdued slave 
 
 Of such a hopeless love ? — with Time why cope 
 
 To break the wing of Fortune adverse ever ? 
 
 Why seek to make immortal in a line 
 
 The excellence of beauty ? — I shall never 
 
 Possess Thee, Idol as thou art of mine. 
 
 So the capricious tenor of our lives 
 
 Is hung on little chances, paltry things : 
 
 The deeper our clear speculation dives 
 
 The falser are our fine imaginings. 
 
 My abstract thought is tinted by affection, 
 And truth is but Thy beauty's fine reflection. 
 
 S
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 A LOVER'S MEDITATION ON HIS LADY 
 
 VII 
 
 The lonely thoughts that issue from my mind, 
 Fill this small room with shadows of the world, 
 Where the unstable state of all mankind 
 Before reflection's eye is strangely hurled. 
 O foolish man ! to reckon on a joy — 
 Thy trust is founded in uncertainty, 
 Our hopes do make us fools, a cherished toy 
 Show us but children still — and but for Thee 
 This life were valueless. Thou art a gem 
 Set on the wrinkled forehead of wide death, 
 Whose glad diffusive splendour must condemn 
 All thought that undervalues human breath. 
 
 Indebted unto fortune least of all, 
 
 Yet having Thee, still rich, though fortunes thrall. 
 
 9
 
 VIA A.MORIS 
 
 A LOVER'S FANCIES 
 
 VIM 
 
 Looking within thine eyes what do I read ? 
 A world of thought in dreaming beauty hushed. 
 Say on what musings doth thy spirit feed, 
 Making divine those charms by fancy flushed ? 
 Dost thou anticipate that glorious time 
 When every cloud of darkness shall have fled, 
 And the hoar world revives her fabled prime 
 Ere for her offspring's misery she bled ? 
 In vain do I conjecture. Who can tell 
 What hopes or dreams now occupy thy soul? 
 They soar beyond the stroke of Time's harsh bell, 
 And mounted on desire towards heaven roll : 
 Still turn to me those eyes of wondrous light, 
 And with their beauty greet n>y anxious sight. 
 
 10
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE PEACE OF LOVE 
 
 IX 
 
 O Love, how full of comfort is thy soul ! 
 How full of hope the prospect of thine eye ! 
 Thy prophecy cloth time, and chance control : 
 Beneath thy shadow I securely lie 
 Safe anchored to an everlasting peace, 
 O'er which our changeful fortunes have no power. 
 Mutation and decay their havoc cease 
 To dream away the uneventful hour, 
 Beauty wears hues it never wore before, 
 Young joy, no longer spurns this dusty earth, 
 And rapture on the heart's deserted shore 
 Rolls its succeeding waves. — There is a dearth 
 In Sorrow's shrunken realm of sighs and tears, 
 For Love's high-thoughted mind surmounts man's 
 fears. 
 
 1 1
 
 VIA A.MORIS 
 
 THE AFTERLIGHT 
 
 As a sick man within a half dark room, 
 When he extinguishes the taper's light 
 Feels his clear vision plunged in thickest night, 
 Till he, inured to the sudden gloom, 
 With the quick aid of fancy 'gins to see 
 Shapes indistinct at first, until his sight, 
 Familiar grown with shadows, breaketh free 
 From darkness' cloud. — E'en so it is with me 
 When thou dost hide from me thy beauteous face, 
 And I am forced in sorrow to depart. 
 Anon, the memory of the hour and place 
 To our last meeting consecrate — the art 
 
 Wherewith you made me music — and your looks, 
 Flash on me like a dream from Poet's books. 
 
 12
 
 VIA AM0R1S 
 
 OLD WORLD DREAMS 
 
 XI 
 
 Would this unquenched spirit now could take 
 One sip of that immortal beverage, 
 Wherewith th' Olympians were wont to slake 
 Their divine thirst in a long-buried age ; 
 That I might feel mortality fall away 
 With the harsh noises of this feverish earth, 
 While the soft cadence of some easeful lay — 
 Filling all things — should hail my second birth : 
 Silence scarce breathing in its sleep should veil 
 All memories of the past ; while ample plains, 
 Seas tipped with smiles of heaven, and woods, reveal 
 Rare forms of beauty, and the old remains 
 Of Grecian life before the years declined, 
 Beneath the noiseless pinion of the mind. 
 
 x 3
 
 VIA A.MORIS 
 
 OLD WORLD DREAMS 
 
 XII 
 
 () ! to be now a creature of delight. 
 Following some piping swain along the vales 
 As day withdraws from heaven before the night. 
 List ning the fluttering of the nightingales, 
 Pausing ere they commence their ravishing hymn 
 To the uprising orb, or to lie prone 
 Upon some height, and mark the foamy rim 
 Of the Egean lap the Persian's throne, 
 While seen afar, like unpolluted joys, 
 Fair dancers trip it to some perfect lyre, 
 And aged priests, and troops of singing boys 
 Lead forth the flower-crowned victim to the fire, 
 Or after, list an Iliad's strains upsteal 
 Sung by some Homer, for his evening meal. 
 
 '4
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE BROAD WAY 
 
 .VIII 
 
 Tormented by ourselves, and time, and earth, 
 We spaniel-like cling closer to our life, 
 And court the scourges from our very birth. 
 Till custom makes us love the noisy strife. 
 Nature and Heaven have on us set their seals. 
 Which we are ever t lying to erase, 
 Content to follow Darkness' iron heels, 
 And fainting run a weary, useless race. 
 A little thing, the pricking of a thorn, 
 The blowing of an east wind, or a fall, 
 Send our souls of their pride and station shorn 
 To that great silence that receives us all : 
 Our higher part is nothing, let it go — 
 O ! thought for grief, and thus our stories flow 
 
 15
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE WOULD 
 
 \i\ 
 
 My heart sinks when I look upon the world, 
 And see the wronger cased in evil might, 
 The bloody flag of hell at large unfurled, 
 While vice and misery clothe themselves in night ; 
 The cry of innocence, the growl of lust, 
 Fair claims despised, and unjust avarice. 
 Merit and honour trampled in the dust, 
 While sin and virtue are made casting dice, 
 Shook in the cup of custom, held by time, 
 With all humanity to watch the game. 
 Time was when all injustice, woe, and crime, 
 Were straight redressed by heroes of fair fame. 
 that we had those old knights' chivalry, 
 The wronged to succour, and the slave to free ! 
 
 16
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 DAY DREAMS 
 
 xv 
 
 To musings high, and dreamings not of earth, 
 My mind is ofttimes tuned, where like a glass 
 Reflected shapes of mortal thought have birth, 
 Which make my sweet sad study as they pass. 
 In all the tragic pomp of wealth arrayed 
 The dead worlds of the past start into life, 
 Mocking at death, whose cold primeval shade 
 With constancy and beauty is at strife, 
 O foolish aspirations of the heart ! 
 O wretched vanity to pant for fame ! 
 What though I long to play each glorious part, 
 And to posterity transmit a name ? 
 
 I break your spells, and snap the stubborn chain ; 
 
 Yet lives your splendour in this slavish brain. 
 B r 7
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE PARTING 
 
 w i 
 
 Thy secret to my too inquiring eye 
 Is painted in the pages of thy cheek ; 
 My counsel's comfort, ending with a sigh, 
 Show me but like thyself as fond and weak. 
 In vain my hope would struggle into speech. 
 And be a loving prophet, saying this — 
 ' We meet again ere long.' I cannot teach 
 My heart to credit such a promised bliss. 
 And so I press thy hand, and kiss thy eyes 
 Washed by upwelling tears, and only feel 
 The future all a blank : I lose my prize 
 And ffain a sorrow, comfort cannot heal. 
 We part in grief, silent as that vast fate 
 That rules all mortal lives in ancient state. 
 18
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 ALONE 
 
 XVII 
 
 Panting for that great calm that hangs o'er heaven 
 Profound and vast as God, here am I thrown, 
 Felled with th* rebounding stroke by sorrow given, 
 With all my gladness shrunken to a moan. 
 Erewhile my spirit like a well-tuned lyre 
 Sent forth delicious strains, beneath the hands 
 Of winged embodied thoughts, all love and fire, 
 In essence and in motion, spirit bands 
 That nursed the native joyfulness of life ; 
 But in the midst of my life's happy strain 
 Came an erratic spirit full of strife, 
 And laid his hand, all paralysed with pain, 
 
 On the sweet strings tremulous with my joy, 
 
 To fill the gentle hours with annoy. 
 
 19
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 LOVE AND CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 xvm 
 
 Circumstance ! what ruin thou hast made 
 In Love's fair world we ever may behold 
 By the imaginative, gentle aid 
 
 Of woful stories by old poets told ; 
 But this stern fact gives not philosophy 
 Sufficient to control the grieving heart, 
 From bearing thee a lover's enmity, 
 Because thou doom'st me from my love to part. 
 Ah ! when I think, a little while ago 
 
 1 gazed into those eyes of love and light, 
 
 And lived as though time would not onward go, 
 But, standing still for aye, feed our delight, — 
 Despair so grips me at a pleasure o'er 
 That e'en my memory dares not backward soar. 
 20
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 A MEDITATION 
 
 XIX 
 
 My life is but a study how to die. 
 Since there seems nought of worth in life on earth, 
 I '11 school my spirit for eternity, 
 And study how from death to gain new birth. 
 I am in love with that which leads from hence 
 Because it points to all our minds desire, 
 When, rapt in contemplation, mortal sense, 
 And sin and error like a dream expire. 
 O heaven ! the fountain-head of every grace, 
 Where wisdom, justice, beauty, power, and love 
 Have made their everlasting resting-place, 
 Teach now my better part to dwell above 
 The accidents, and follies of this breath 
 Misnamed our life, but rightly named our death. 
 
 21
 
 VIA A.MORIS 
 
 QUESTIONINGS 
 
 xx 
 
 Bereft of everything but hopelessness, 
 Mark of an everlasting dumb Despair, 
 Must I yield up to hungry heaviness 
 The promise of a life so passing fair ? 
 Is fortitude nought but a pinioned grief 
 Which cannot fly its stake, and therefore bears ? 
 Was Hope created but to mock relief? 
 And are our joys quick jesters at our fears ? 
 Can things within their opposites so lie ? 
 Is this vast universe a howling waste 
 Around the terrors of humanity ? 
 Why does the period of being haste 
 
 To the devouring jaws of hideous death ? 
 
 And does the mighty mind depend on breath? 
 22
 
 VIA AMORIS 
 
 THE INCONSTANCY OF THE MUSE 
 
 XXI 
 
 wayward Muse ! inconstant grown of late, 
 Why dost thou let thy watchful devotee 
 Hang up his foolish harp in idle state, 
 Above the stream of life on Care's sad tree ? 
 Like those renowned captives of old date, 
 Upon the exiled shore of my mind's sadness 
 
 1 grieve imagination so elate 
 
 Is forced awhile to leave its sunny gladness. 
 O holiday of fair creative power, 
 That sets the spirit on a wheel of joy, 
 And with the olive binds each passing hour ! 
 O come again, methinks thou art too coy ! 
 With greater zest after so long a dearth, 
 I shall enjoy thy wise immortal mirth. 
 
 23
 
 II 
 
 LYRICS 

 
 The lyj' so short, the craft so long to lerne. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Visions of too lovely things 
 
 To endure the strain of time 
 Ere we give you shape and wings 
 
 Of harmonious thought, or rhyme, 
 Life so short is come and gone 
 
 While we dream. 
 Only touches of the dawn 
 Glint our theme.
 
 SONG 
 
 Sink gently in the silent sea, 
 Die slowly, slowly in the west ; 
 
 Lulled by the winds sweet minstrelsy 
 To golden rest. 
 
 Thy wak'ning I shall view no more 
 
 Behind the east's pale shimmering hills ; 
 
 Ere thou arise the tale is o'er 
 Of earthly ills. 
 
 27
 
 LYRICS 
 
 DESTINY 
 
 Where heaven, bright flashing through the deeps 
 
 Of this enduring universe, 
 Gleams brilliant with its massy steeps, 
 
 There sits a power to man averse, 
 Which ever hurls him to and fro, 
 Bound with its chains where'er he so. 
 
 'Tis Destiny, that through our life, 
 
 To tempt us, drops its golden ball. 
 When we are anxious in the strife 
 
 That should secure for us our all. 
 Comes Destiny to thwart our aim, 
 And leave us nothing but a name. 
 
 28
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Fell power ! at war for aye with man, 
 Why hauntest thou his game of chance ? 
 
 Himself a strange imperfect plan, 
 His life a bauble. Cast thy glance 
 
 And shake thy awful brow again, 
 
 Thou canst not add another pain. 
 
 29
 
 LYRICS 
 
 MAKE NO SWEET PROMISES 
 
 Make no sweet promises of truth : 
 Fanned by each breath of love is youth ; 
 Let thy sighs speak what words would tell, 
 In truth sweet girl they do it well : 
 Then let thy promise be a sigh, 
 Thy pledge a tear from that bright eye. 
 
 Hark ! 'tis the trumpets' brazen call, 
 The roll of drums from far does fall. 
 I hear the martial tread — farewell ; 
 Thy aspect speaks thy heart full well : 
 Then let thy promise be a sigh, 
 Thy pledge a tear from that bright eye. 
 
 3°
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 I am so desolate, — 
 
 Genius sighs — 
 Come, Love, and be my mate, 
 
 Give me thine eyes. 
 
 I am aweary, 
 
 Love, give me rest ; 
 Leave me not dreary, 
 
 Give me thy breast. 
 
 The lark looks to heaven, 
 The flower to the sun ; 
 
 But my heart is sore riven 
 For thy beauty, sweet one. 
 
 3i
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Give me thy presence, 
 
 My life to enfold ; 
 Then care and sorrow hence, 
 
 That life shalt thou hold. 
 
 3 2
 
 I A KI(.'S 
 
 SONG 
 
 It is a solitary land, 
 
 Now thou art gone I feel it more, 
 My destiny is strangely planned : 
 
 Will sorrow haunt me evermore ? 
 The hanging woods, their solemn charms 
 
 Attract me not, the sobbing sea 
 ('alls forth my woe, my empty arms 
 
 Are stretched for ever unto thee. 
 
 I sigh thy name unto the star 
 
 That lights the last decline of day ; 
 A mournful voice comes from afar, 
 ' Thy Love hears not, he 's far away.' 
 
 c 33
 
 LYRICS 
 
 I tell the flowers about my Love, 
 I prattle of him to the streams, 
 
 My prayers ascend for him above, 
 My spirit flies to him in dreams. 
 
 The lonely sun 's come forth and set 
 
 Upon this melancholy land, 
 And Hope puts in his tiny ' Yet' 
 
 E'en when Despair hath ta'en his stand. 
 The hanging woods, their solemn charms 
 
 Attract me not, the sobbing sea 
 Calls forth my woe, my empty arms 
 
 Are stretched for ever unto thee. 
 
 34
 
 LYRICS 
 
 THERE'S A STILLNESS IN THE STARS 
 
 There 's a stillness in the stars, 
 
 And a sleep upon the earth, 
 And the day with all its jars 
 
 Is a dead jest, void of mirth. 
 And my heart is breaking, Sweet, 
 
 With the memory of that hour, 
 When our happiness complete 
 
 Sprang and blossomed like a flower. 
 
 Never shall we be the same, 
 
 Chance hath ordered otherwise ; 
 
 Hope with me is but a name 
 
 Thrilled with mem'ries of your eyes. 
 
 35
 
 LYRIGS 
 
 O that •never,' when 'tis spoken, 
 Lays the trusting spirit prone 
 
 With its dreams and glories broken, 
 Like a ruined arch alone ! 
 
 How this silence all around me 
 
 Weighs upon the wearied heart, 
 All the gentle bonds that bound me 
 
 Snap and wake me with a start ; 
 Not an answer to my sorrow 
 
 Doth thy presence Nature give, 
 And awakening with the morrow 
 
 I shall know 'tis death to live. 
 
 36
 
 LYRICS 
 
 HYMN TO MUSIC 
 
 Thou who dost dwell, and art a living passion 
 In nature's soul — Music — I sing of thee. 
 O how can thought of man or language fashion 
 Unto the mind the might of harmony ! 
 The very hope is blissful vanity ; 
 Yet, by the power of fancy hurled along, 
 My spirit with compelling melody 
 Beats rapturously ! far off! I catch the song 
 Of spirits, lost the shimmering heights of heaven among. 
 
 On golden clouds and rainbows bright, descending 
 Far through the many-coloured universe, 
 Fair trains of spirits beautiful are wending 
 Their rosy way to harmony and verse ; 
 
 ■ 37 
 
 $4399
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Their very presence steals away the curse 
 Which lies on nature — these are they who hold 
 Each sun and star in their appointed course. 
 The dream of sage Pythagoras behold : 
 Lo ! music's golden wing the universe enfold. 
 
 See ! on a throne of brightness as the sun, 
 Great Homer strikes his high immortal lyre, 
 And as the master's fingers lightly run 
 Along the ranges of the sounding wire, 
 See ! Pindar kindle with the mystic fire 
 Of inspiration as he bends below. 
 The strings are struck, and higher, higher, higher ! 
 The perfect notes swell rapid now, now slow, 
 And anon scarcely heard so distant, sweet, and low. 
 
 But what is yon fair spirit crowned with stars 
 Around whose feet a thousand others play ? 
 Lo ! theve are trumpets sounding to the wars, 
 The tragic song of woe, the lovely lay, 
 
 38
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Love's many-toned harp — the sad, the gay, 
 The various music of humanity, 
 All these are there, lit by the glorious ray 
 Of genius, and the sea of harmony 
 Rolls perfect in its sound, resistless, vast, and free. 
 
 This is th' Hellenic mind, the embodiment 
 Of intellect and genius. View her well ; 
 Upon her robe there is no seam or rent, 
 But all is perfect — say what tongue can tell 
 Her glory ? — hers without a parallel ! 
 The civiliser of a thousand worlds 
 Springing to life in time — renown doth fill 
 His trumpet with her name, while peace unfurls 
 Her banner, and despair to the' past's darkness hurls 
 
 This is the greatest legacy of time, 
 
 A harvest in itself — and yet a seed 
 
 Of that within the future, when sublime 
 
 Man shall arise from guilt and error freed — 
 
 39
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Nay, smile not at the hope ! — it is decreed : 
 We dream not of the summits that man's mind 
 Will yet attain — what visions bright succeed 
 Each other as the changing strains unwind : 
 All thought ! all life ! all joy ! are by their Power 
 confined. 
 
 40
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 Now silent hangs the universe, 
 
 And night enthroned amid the heaven 
 Is from her fount of glory pouring 
 Her bright accumulated fires ; 
 And as the golden lights disperse 
 Which faintly bloom upon the even, 
 
 While now no more the tempest 's louring, 
 Lay on my breast thy head which tires, 
 And I will sing thee, weary love, asleep, 
 And, while thou gently slumber' st, watch will keep.
 
 LYRICS 
 
 SONG 
 
 At last in death I find thee, 
 And I am left below ; 
 
 No mortal power could bind thee 
 To this dark land of woe : 
 In vain my teardrops flow 
 For thee, dead Imogene. 
 
 O thou art gone for ever, 
 
 In vain thy loss I grieve, 
 And in my bosom never 
 
 Can aught such loss retrieve, 
 Or joy its gloom relieve, 
 My pale, cold Imogene ! 
 42
 
 LYRICS 
 
 On some far steep of heaven, 
 
 Say, dost thou watch from there ? 
 
 Or is it to thee given 
 To bear aloft my prayer, 
 And soothe my heart's despair, 
 Departed Imogene ? 
 
 43
 
 LYRICS 
 
 THE VIOLET 
 
 I gET my hue from heaven's own blue, 
 
 A beautiful spirit I hold, 
 A fairy bright, that through the night 
 
 Close to my heart I fold. 
 None heareth the strain, that once and again 
 
 Through the night he singeth to me ; 
 And when he would sleep, I watch o'er him keep, 
 
 And muse on his melody : 
 All things of the night in his song take delight, 
 
 And I perfume his chamber each hour ; 
 The lizard and owl, and each wakeful fowl, 
 
 Through night's silent halls seek my bower. 
 The stars ask me oft where my love I have lain. 
 And the glow-worm entranced comes to listen his strain ; 
 1 lis song you may hear, but his beauty 's my own ; 
 NO eye but mine sees him, so lovely, so lone. 
 
 44
 
 LYRICS 
 
 THERE WAS A POWER IN THEE 
 
 There was a power in thee, that from my soul 
 Drew forth strange energies ; 
 
 There was new music in the thunder's roll 
 And in the rising seas. 
 
 All nature was suffused with a new glory 
 
 Before my raptured eye ; 
 My life was made one sweet enchanted story 
 
 Thrilled through with ecstasy. 
 
 We had one will, one life, one fate, one aim, 
 
 One spirit in us dwelt ; 
 Our very features seemed to grow the same, 
 
 Beneath one heaven we knelt. 
 
 45
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Love was our tutor, and, like some sweet flower, 
 
 Beneath its suns and rains 
 Our life grew full of loveliness and power, 
 
 Sweet hopes and gentlest pains. 
 
 Sweet musings, high imaginations streamed 
 
 Our spirits to unbind ; 
 It seemed as though heaven ope'd and down- 
 ward gleamed 
 
 Rays from the Eternal Mind. 
 
 All was so wild, so fair, so wonderful, 
 
 The sounds and scenes of dreams, 
 
 Or some low strain of music, rich and full, 
 That on the spirit streams. 
 
 Love made the world a smiling Faerie land, 
 There was no crime, no woe ; 
 
 Gold had no power, there was no bloodstained brand, 
 No tear was seen to flow. 
 46
 
 LYRICS 
 
 All Nature knew an universal rest, 
 The world had wedded love, 
 
 No longer, so we deemed, was man distressed, 
 Heaven was no more above. 
 
 47
 
 LYRICS 
 
 THE DOUBT 
 
 A youth beside a maiden strayed 
 Within the woodland's changing shade. 
 ' I love her ! ' cried the eager boy ; 
 The maiden's bosom felt no joy 
 At this confession. — Loves her? — who? 
 He loves another ? is it true ? 
 They were companions free to rove, 
 But never had they spoke of love ; 
 
 And fancy heard 
 
 Each building bird 
 Sing, O he loves another ! 
 
 The lovely maiden's cheek turns pale 
 Before the raptured lover's tale, 
 She marks what he confides to her, 
 She looks on him, the worshipper 
 
 4 S
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Of some strange beauty, who perchance 
 Hath won him by a word or glance, 
 And all the maiden's hopes fall dead, 
 As on her bosom droops her head, 
 
 While fancy heard 
 
 Each building bird 
 Sing, O he loves another ! 
 
 Love triumphed o'er the time and place, 
 The maiden with averted face 
 Stooped for a violet on the ground, 
 While tears her secret sorrow found. 
 ' Pardon this trial,' cried the youth— 
 ' It is yourself I love in truth, 
 ' I did this but to prove your love, 
 ' Henceforth as friends no more we rove.' 
 The maiden heard 
 Each building bird 
 Sing, me ! he loves none other. 
 D 49 
 
 ' 

 
 LYRICS 
 
 O SHOULD WE MEET AGAIN ! 
 
 Though years have fled unheeded by, 
 
 And hearts and hopes have changed, 
 Yet oh ! how oft sweet memory's eye 
 
 Across the past hath ranged, 
 While hope's young voice in music broke 
 
 Repeating one loved strain, 
 And thus it ran as love awoke — 
 
 O should we meet again ! 
 O should we meet again, dear heart, 
 
 O should we meet again, 
 No power in time should make us part 
 
 If we should meet again ! 
 
 5°
 
 LYRICS 
 What though we deem affection dead, 
 
 And smile away the past, 
 And shake at youth our wiser head 
 
 And say it cannot last ; 
 Yet even then we touch a chord, 
 Which proves our lesson vain, 
 The wish escapes us in the word, 
 
 O should we meet again ! 
 O should we meet again, dear heart, 
 
 O should we meet again, 
 No power in time should make us part, 
 If we should meet again. 
 
 Time takes more wisdom than it gives. 
 
 More truth than it imparts, 
 When sad experience only lives 
 To mock the simpler hearts. 
 Pack age and time and sorrow hence, 
 Which wrongly judge of gain, 
 5*
 
 LYRICS 
 
 Come, hope, imbue each longing sense 
 
 Until we meet again ! 
 Until we meet again, dear heart, 
 
 Until we meet again, 
 No power in time shall make us part 
 
 When we do meet again. 
 
 5-
 
 LYRICS 
 
 LOVE AND EARTH'S ECHOES 
 
 FIRST LOVER 
 
 Love that is spoken often dies, 
 Quick as the light in evening skies, 
 Or as a song upon the ear, 
 And leaves no answering spirit near : 
 Wilt thou be true ? Shall I ne'er rue 
 My plighted faith ? Wilt thou be true ? 
 
 ECHO 
 
 Wilt thou be true ? 
 
 SECOND LOVER 
 
 That doubt, O maiden, do not name ! 
 Changeless as yon eternal flame 
 My spirit evermore shall be 
 In its full worshipping of thee. 
 
 53
 
 LYRICS 
 
 I will be true ! Thou shalt not rue 
 Thy plighted faith ! I will be true 
 
 Echo 
 
 J will be true. 
 
 FIRST LOVER 
 
 O Love, I mourned thy broken faith, 
 And now I live to mourn thy death, 
 And, like the echo ringing clear, 
 Thy voice was false within my ear ! 
 ' I will be true.' O ! echo earth, 
 Are these things only for your mirth ? 
 
 ECHO 
 
 Onlv for — mirth. 
 
 54
 
 LYRICS 
 
 ROBIN HOOD 
 
 I read ' A lytell geste of Robyn Hode ' 
 
 Within an ancient forest far withdrawn :— 
 The story rapt me in a wondrous mood, 
 
 And I outread the dawn. 
 There was a trembling light upon the page, 
 The meeting of the morning and the day — 
 The dewdrop shook not on the silent spray, 
 The world forgot its age — 
 The silent golden world, that morn in May. 
 
 The fever and the dust of this worn time 
 
 Passed like a dream from me, and left me free, 
 Musing on that antique dramatic rime 
 Beneath an old-world tree. 
 
 55
 
 LYRICS 
 
 1 looked and saw a merry company 
 
 Down a green avenue with laugh and song, 
 And little joyful noises come along ; 
 Then died the tyranny 
 
 Of this grey world in me, with hoary wrong. 
 
 There saw I : — Robin with his fearless brow 
 
 And eye of frolic love ; Maid Marian ; 
 The moon-faced Tuck ; and, sporting 'ncath a 
 bough, 
 
 John, Robin's master man. 
 Scarlet, and Much, and all the outlaw clan, 
 With polished horn and bow, in Lincoln green, 
 Moved ceaselessly between the leafy screen. 
 A natural freedom ran 
 Through every spirit on that sylvan scene. 
 
 Anon I heard their horns begin to blow — 
 Then, in despite of age and time, arose 
 56
 
 LYRICS 
 
 A woodland song that, leaning on her bow, 
 Maid Marian thus did close. 
 ' O mad, mad world ! O happy life of ours ! 
 Sing and be merry — evil is a thought 
 Which our own natural lives have brought to 
 nought ! 
 O happy, happy hours ! 
 Who cares to fret and pine for what is not ? ' 
 
 The music still was murmuring in my brain 
 
 When I awoke from that sweet reverie, 
 List'ning to catch once more that unreal strain. — 
 
 Lo ! how such pageants flee. 
 Idle and silent stood the forest walks — 
 
 Gone was that merry company — nought there, 
 Save the bird's song, broke on the tranquil air ; 
 Such as from those grey stocks, 
 Long generations back, rose everywhere. 
 
 57
 
 Ill 
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES FROM A 
 BLOTTING-PAD
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES FROM A 
 BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 First Series 
 
 THE LOVER'S LETTER 
 
 i 
 It chanced while being in that idle mood 
 When everj' vagrant object from without, 
 Through the dim windows which our senses make, 
 Hath liberty to cast upon the mind 
 Its shadow, as it passes and is lost, 
 That I sate toying with a blotting-pad, 
 And with a thousand thoughts fantastical 
 Watched the innumerable glancing waves 
 Upspringing, 'neath the touches of the sun, 
 
 61 
 
 I
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES 
 
 Whose fingers swept the playful ocean crests, 
 And forming in the region of the clouds 
 A lovely continent of fairy lands, 
 Of seas immeasurable and rippling bays, — 
 Where solitude for ever pined away — 
 Of guarded passes on tempestuous hills, 
 Where beauty walked secure, and dragon eyes 
 That from their caverned eminences swept 
 The silent region of the golden plains ; 
 With other antique tricks, and shapes of thought 
 Which the creating mind will form, then throw 
 As lightly from it as a truant boy 
 Shakes his imprisoned bubble free on air. 
 Then turning lightly to that blotting-pad, 
 Held gently poised between the finger-tips, 
 I thought of the impressions it had ta'en, 
 And of the various thrills of J03' and pain, 
 Thought and emotion, it held record of 
 Within its blurred and ruined characters, 
 
 62
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 And how the rare confusion of its lines 
 
 Was an epitome of this wild world 
 
 With interwoven lines of thought and life. 
 
 Soon my attention grew less general, 
 
 For I began to read the characters 
 
 Which some young lover's ink had left thereon, 
 
 Though fragmentary and confused they lay 
 
 Even as the passion that created them, 
 
 And these the broken sentences I saved. 
 
 ii 
 ' // seems thai years' ; — O heart that panteth here, 
 In these four words, for what hath passed away ! 
 What visions hath the fancy leave to paint 
 While musing on the passion of these words ! 
 What undertones of time and love are here, 
 What comment on the briefness of our joys, 
 Set starlike 'mid this life's monotonv ! 
 What dream-brief hope — what glory in young eyes 
 
 63
 
 BROK EN SENTENCES 
 What love-tinged lips budding towards a kiss ! 
 We are not as we were — the world hath ta'en 
 The more ethereal part of us away, 
 And with the iron pen of circumstance 
 Hath writ its callous prudence on our lives, 
 And therefore when we call up once again 
 The beauty of our younger state and love, 
 The contrast strikes such shame into our souls 
 That we can only say — ' It seems that years ! ' 
 
 in 
 ' Ah ! that you could but know this heart of mine' ;— 
 I see the picture of a yearning soul 
 Trembling towards its mate in these few word';, 
 An innocence as pure as God's own thought 
 Forming the life within some infant frame, 
 What self-sufficiency and power is here 
 Championing the dragon evils of the world 
 In isolated strength ! ah me ! how far 
 
 64
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 True love transcends the bounds of ignorance 
 As made and coined by speech, what weakness here, 
 What might in its unloosened utterance ! 
 What straining of high feeling 'gainst the chains 
 Of our small knowledge — ending in a sigh ! 
 And do these words imply there is a doubt 
 Thrown o'er the holy secret of one heart ? 
 O vows breathed underneath o'ershadowing trees ! 
 O secrets only spoken by that tongue 
 That dwells within a mystic consciousness, 
 Wherefrom the silent soul of love puts forth 
 A seeking hand upon the world of things 
 To leave its impress. Time reveals even love, 
 And then how much of love is selfishness, 
 For the gross things of this material frame 
 Are only everlasting — holiest thoughts, 
 High promptings die ! a few winged years, and lo ! 
 Are we so ready with that innocence 
 That we desire to show our sealed hearts ? 
 e 65 
 
 . 

 
 BROKEN SENTENCES 
 
 Love may deceive itself, prove insecure 
 Against the odds of time, and the belief 
 In its own being be shattered in an hour. 
 
 IV 
 
 ' This inner life' ; — Poor lover, what was that 
 Which you next wrote of? — nothing can be seen 
 But these three words ; before and after — blank- 
 For the ambitious, grasping characters 
 Of some gold son of Cain blots out the rest, 
 Leaving the tender form and spirit of love 
 Close jostled by the hard, dry signs of gain. 
 Of the sweet quiet of a lover's mood, 
 That estimates its idol at a price 
 Above the mighty balances of time, 
 And shines amid the tempest of the world 
 A beacon to forlorn and wearied men, 
 Too happy, lover, wert thou dreaming then ? 
 Or had love kindled thy intelligence, 
 
 66
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 And shown to thee the beauteous forms of thought 
 With Dante-fervour ? — Didst thou then discern 
 Some heights scaled only by the godlike ones ? 
 I question : thou being gone, who answers me ? 
 
 v 
 
 ' Death ' ; — How that word stands out among the rest 
 
 Spared by the ink, as death is spared by all — 
 
 A skull and crossbones carved upon a ring 
 
 That decks the coral finder of a girl. — 
 
 What shuddering fear or hope didst draw from death ? 
 
 What dread or consolation ? let it pass 
 
 As silent as the silence that it gives : 
 
 Yet love, in its great innocence of speech, 
 
 Will play with death, even as a little child, 
 
 Unconscious of the venom it provokes, 
 
 Will touch the burnished skin of sleeping snake. 
 
 For was not love before the heaven and earth, 
 
 When wide chaotic death lay everywhere, 
 
 And can it well forget its ancient mate ? 
 
 67
 
 HKOKEX SENTENCES 
 
 \ i 
 ' Heaven ' ; — The last word we trace, and with this word 
 
 The crown of all illusions, do we close 
 
 The great illusion of our insect lives ; 
 
 But love awakes young hearts when we are dust. 
 
 63
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 Second Series 
 
 THE POET'S LETTER 
 
 i 
 Upon the other side of that worn pad 
 
 My eye began to weed a poet's soul 
 
 Out of the scanty sentences I saved : — 
 
 The landmarks of some mood writ out at large 
 
 In an epistle to a trusted friend, 
 
 The bulk of which having perished, what remained 
 
 Showed like some mighty mind that threw its light 
 
 On some far period in the dawn of time. 
 
 ii 
 1 Where shall I plant my foot ' ; — Starting with doubt, 
 
 Or what is kin to doubt — perplexity : — 
 
 Ah ! little knows the garrulous world of men 
 
 What night envelops the creating mind, 
 
 69
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES 
 
 When, with its sleepless energies at bay, 
 It tries to give a form unto those things 
 Its power hath conjured up ; while o'er the steeps 
 Of high forbidding thought a moon will flash, 
 And fling its inspiration and its light 
 Upon the jagged path, and then return 
 Behind the hungry darkness, while alone. 
 The sorely tried formative principle 
 Sinks back again upon chaotic thought. 
 Having missed the golden and supreme delight 
 Of full conception. — What a mood is this ! 
 What godlike chafing ! what endeavour ! strength ! 
 What throes, as of dim chaos giving birth 
 To the harmonious world ! Then breaks the light 
 After long years, perchance, and all is changed 
 To order from disorder, gathered up 
 Into the central and absorbing sun 
 Of his intelligence, the poet sees 
 The intuitions and the ends of things 
 
 70
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 Whirled erewhile round the dark and empty vast, 
 Fall into rank and shape his universe. 
 All hath been said and sung, and it remains 
 For the aged mind to see monotony, 
 And cease from reproduction of the past. 
 Old Homer, thou art greatly what thou art, 
 Because thy fortune gave thee virgin soil 
 To raise thy harvest from, and none were by 
 Thy cunning to dispute. — Or is there here 
 A more heroic note of hope and strength, 
 A mind that sees within these latter times 
 Riches before undreamed of, that will stoop 
 Its crest to no name past, but with a look 
 That saith, ' Some mightier spirits needs must be 
 ' To show the complex workings of this world 
 ' Than those who sang sweet stories to its youth, 
 ' And I am one of such ? ' — there is no aim, 
 Nor an ambition of such heavenly touch, 
 As that the poet feels — how weak such thoughts ! 
 
 7i
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES 
 
 A handful of poor guesses at some hour 
 Known only to the mind o'er which it lay. 
 
 in 
 ' Running a race 'gainst tunc with small results ' ; — 
 This speaks of days of gloom, when the dulled mind 
 In apathy sinks back upon itself — 
 When Nature seems a blank, and stateliest verse 
 A work of idleness ; through the dreamy wall 
 Wherewith the poet hems his life around, 
 The bleak reality of things will burst 
 Like a December gloom, and then faith goes 
 In any high heroic enterprise, — 
 Thought shows itself below the estimate 
 Of happier moments ; yea, the mind itself, 
 Hurled from the wall of heaven which it would scale, 
 Lies numbed upon the earth. So poets wait 
 For the irregular hours they call divine, 
 And learn how frail their power compared with time. 
 
 72
 
 FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 IV 
 
 1 Anticipation ' ; — So we pass the days 
 Within the echoing vales, with unstrung lyre 
 Laid by — in meditation, while we catch 
 Like flashing flights of spirits to and fro 
 Between the pauses of our joyful breath 
 Some vision of completion, that will play 
 At hide-and-seek around our rapturous mood, 
 Lulling the unproductive hours with sight 
 Of the great tracts beyond, which we are graced 
 To view, ere we pass through them ; all the life 
 Gathered within a moment, which the mind 
 Feels to be ample payment for its toils, 
 
 v 
 ' Completion ' ; — now to rest and cast the eye 
 Upon the road that led unto the stars, 
 And feel the value of the storms that shake 
 The regions where designing spirits dwell. — 
 
 73
 
 BROKEN SENTENCES FROM A BLOTTING-PAD 
 
 A moment do we rest, no more, and then 
 
 Some new desire awakes and all is o'er — 
 
 Rest is decay, to labour is to grow — 
 
 All the high idols of the past are shrunk 
 
 Gleaming within their niches far away, 
 
 And we behold above our heads appear 
 
 Far other heights we never dreamed were there ; 
 
 For while we thought we climbed some mighty Alp, 
 
 We only scaled some puny eminence 
 
 That lay within the shadow at its base. 
 
 74
 
 IV 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN THE DITCH
 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN THE DITCH 
 
 i 
 Now some have sense and little cash, 
 
 And men with cash have one sense ; 
 They have the sense to keep their trash, 
 
 And think all else but nonsense. 
 Life is the running of a race 
 Along a slippery, muddy place, 
 Where some are helped with friends and grace 
 
 The prize to gain, 
 While others, with endeavouring pace, 
 
 Fall on the plain. 
 
 77
 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND 
 
 Some mortals buy the joys of life, 
 
 Some beg its necessaries, 
 Some wage with Fortune endless strife, 
 
 Some laugh at her vagaries. — 
 The Parson minds his tithes and souls, 
 The Lawyer thrives on sin and rolls, 
 The Doctor fills the sexton's holes 
 
 With murderous blunders ; 
 Great captains send men hence in shoals 
 
 'Mid warlike thunders. 
 
 in 
 We civilise the animal, 
 
 Yet elbow back the angel ; 
 Would not have man a cannibal, 
 
 Rut keep him in his range well- 
 
 73 
 
 \
 
 IN THE DITCH 
 
 This century like lopsided boat, 
 Just keeps its wretched hulk afloat, 
 Its God, attired in best black coat. 
 
 It worships daily. 
 Which God, hight Practical, doth dote 
 
 On things going gaily. 
 
 IV 
 
 Dame Fortune like a churlish boor 
 
 Helps those who have the wherewith ; 
 Luck oftener falls to those with store, 
 
 The poor's success an air-myth. — 
 The undeserving get the tart, 
 While merit strains each nerve and art — 
 Though far behind even at the start — 
 
 To reach the prize, 
 Knaves kick the dust when they 've the start 
 
 In worthy eyes. 
 
 79
 
 EPISTLE TO A FRIEND 
 
 v 
 Poor honesty is still a fool, 
 
 Crowned with a cap and painted, 
 While craft doth keep a thriving school 
 
 And virtue is attainted, — 
 Hypocrisy's a strumpet jade, 
 Religion too a thriving trade, 
 Our creeds like clothes are ready made 
 
 To suit all sizes ; 
 Blind justice even loves parade, 
 
 The Law, disguises. 
 
 VI 
 
 What is the use of sad complaint ? 
 
 It brings no alteration ; 
 Life's goods are but the actor's paint 
 
 And life — a situation ! — 
 Man is but man when all is told, 
 Whatever accidents controlled 
 80
 
 IN THE DITCH 
 
 His birth ; — be t poverty or gold 
 
 He ends the same — 
 A little dust, a little mould, 
 
 A vanished name. 
 
 VII 
 
 Then let us up and do our part 
 
 With manly resolution, 
 A ready hand, and manly heart 
 
 Will yield us life's solution. 
 Let 's pledge each other in our cups, 
 And square our ' downs ' against our ' ups ' 
 
 E'en as we can, 
 And when misfortune with us sups, 
 
 Pass him the can. 
 
 81
 
 EDINBURGH 
 
 T. & A. CONSTABLE 
 
 Printers to Her Majesty 
 
 M D C C C X C I II
 
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 May 1893. 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's 
 
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 antiquary, or as a student of the organic growth of college foundation, it will amply 
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 'A delightful book, learned and lively.'— Academy. 
 
 ' A work which will certainly be appealed to for many years as the standard book on 
 the Colleges of Oxford.' — Athenaum. 
 
 Hulton. RIXAE OXONIENSES : An Account of the Battles 
 of the Nations, The Struggle between Town and Gown, etc. By 
 S. F. HULTON, M.A. Crown Svo. 55.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 9 
 
 James. CURIOSITIES OF CHRISTIAN HISTORY PRIOR 
 TO THE REFORMATION. By Croake James, Author of 
 1 Curiosities of Law and Lawyers.' Crown 2>vo. "js. 6d. 
 
 Perrens. THE HISTORY OF FLORENCE FROM THE 
 TIME OF THE MEDICIS TO THE FALL OF THE 
 REPUBLIC. By F. T. Perrens. Translated by Hannah 
 Lynch. In three volumes. Vol. I. Svo. 12s. 6d. 
 
 This is a translation from the French of the best history of Florence in existence. 
 This volume covers a period of profound interest — political and literary — and 
 is written with great vivacity. 
 
 'This is a standard book by an honest and intelligent historian, who has deserved 
 well of his countrymen, and of all who are interested in Italian history.'— Man- 
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 Kaufmann. CHARLES KINGSLEY. By M. Kaufmann, 
 M.A. Crown Svo. $s. 
 A biography of Kingsley, especially dealing with his achievements in social reform. 
 ' The author has certainly gone about his work with conscientiousness and industry.' — 
 Sheffield Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Lock. THE LIFE OF JOHN KEBLE. By Walter Lock, 
 
 M.A., Fellow of Magdalen, Subwarden of Keble, Oxford. With 
 
 Portrait. Fourth Edition. Crown Zvo. Buckram, $s. 
 
 'This modest, but thorough, careful, and appreciative biography goes very far to 
 supply what has been wanted. It is high but well-deserved praise to say that the 
 tone and tenor of the memoir are thoroughly in harmony with the character and 
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 for this admirable memoir, which enables us to know a good and great churchman 
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 read, makes one think Mr. Keble a belter and greater man than ever.' — Guardian. 
 
 Hutton. CARDINAL MANNING : A Biography. By A. W. 
 
 Hutton, M.A. With Portrait. Crown 8vo. 6s. Cheap Edition, 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 Wells. THE TEACHING OF HISTORY IN SCHOOLS. A 
 Lecture delivered at the University Extension Meeting in Oxford, 
 Aug. 6th, 1892. By J. Wells, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of Wadham 
 College, and Editor of ' Oxford and Oxford Life.' Crown 8vo. 6d. 
 
 Pollard. THE JESUITS IN POLAND. By A. F. Pollard, 
 B.A. Oxford Prize Essays — The Lothian Prize Essay 1892. Crown 
 Svo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 Clifford. THE DESCENT OF CHARLOTTE COMPTON 
 
 (Baroness Ferrers de Chartley). By her Great-Granddaughter. 
 Isabella G. C. Clifford. Small a,to. \os. 6d. net.
 
 io Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 General Literature 
 
 Bowden. THE IMITATION OF BUDDHA: Being Quota- 
 tions from Buddhist Literature for each Day in the Year. Compiled 
 by E. M. Bowden. With Preface by Sir Edwin Arnold. Second 
 Edition. 16 -no. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Ditchfield. OUR ENGLISH VILLAGES : Their Story and 
 
 their Antiquities. By P. H. Ditchfield, M.A., F.R.H.S., Rector 
 
 of Darkham, Berks. Post Svo. 2s. 6d. Illustrated. 
 
 1 An extremely amusing and interesting little book, which should find a place in 
 every parochial library.' — Guardian. 
 
 Ditchfield. OLD ENGLISH SPORTS. By P. H. Ditch- 
 field, M.A. Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. Illustrated. 
 
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 Crown Svo. $s. 
 
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 from — a book which may prove a help to many a clergyman, and broaden the 
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 Massee. A MONOGRAPH OF THE MYXOGASTRES. By 
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 This is the only work in English on this important group. It contains 12 Coloured 
 
 Plates, produced in the finest style of chromo-lithography. 
 1 Supplies a want acutely felt. Its merits are of a high order, and it is one of the 
 
 most important contributions to systematic natural science which have lately 
 
 appeared. ' — li 'estminster Review. 
 'A work much in advance of any book in the language treating of this group of 
 
 organisms. It is indispensable to every student of the Mxyogastres. The 
 
 coloured plates deserve high praise for their accuracy and execution.'- Nature. 
 
 Cunningham. THE PATH TOWARDS KNOWLEDGE: 
 Essays on Questions of the Day. By W. Cunningham, D.D., 
 Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, Professor of Economics at 
 King's College, London. Crown Svo. 45. 6d. 
 Essays on Marriage and Population, Socialism, Money, Education, Positivism, etc. 
 
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 TION. By T. W. Bushill, a Profit Sharing Employer. With an 
 Introduction by SfcDLEY Taylor, Author of • Profit Sharing between 
 Capital and Labour.' Crown Svo. 2s. 67.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List ii 
 
 Anderson Graham. NATURE IN BOOKS : Studies in Literary 
 Biography. By P. Anderson Graham. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 The chapters are entitled : I. ' The Magic of the Fields ' (Jefferies). II. ' Art and 
 Nature' (Tennyson). III. 'The Doctrine of Idleness' (Thoreau). IV. 'The 
 Romance of Life ' (Scott). V. ' The Poetry of Toil ' (Burns). VI. ' The Divinity 
 of Nature ' (Wordsworth). 
 
 Wells. OXFORD AND OXFORD LIFE. By Members of 
 the University. Edited by J. Wells, M.A., Fellow and Tutor of 
 Wadham College. Crown Svo. p. 6d. 
 
 This work contains an account of life at Oxford— intellectual, social, and religious— 
 a careful estimate of necessary expenses, a review of recent changes, a statement 
 of the present position of the University, and chapters on Women's Education, 
 aids to study, and University Extension. 
 
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 of Oxford as it is at the present time, written by persons who are, with hardly an 
 exception, possessed of a close acquaintance with the system and life of the 
 University.' — A then&wn. 
 
 Driver. SERMONS ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH 
 THE OLD TESTAMENT. By S. R. Driver, D.D., Canon of 
 Christ Church, Regius Professor of Hebrew in the University of 
 Oxford. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 An important volume of sermons on Old Testament Criticism preached before the 
 
 University by the author of 'An Introduction to the Literature of the Old 
 
 Testament.' 
 
 ' A welcome volume to the author's famous ' Introduction.' No man can read these 
 
 discourses without feeling that Dr. Driver is fully alive to the deeper teaching of 
 
 the Old Testament.' — Guardian. 
 
 works by S. Baring Gould. 
 
 Author of • Mehalah,' etc. 
 
 OLD COUNTRY LIFE. With Sixty-seven Illustrations by 
 W. Parkinson, F. D. Bedford, and F. Masey. Large Crown 
 Svo, cloth super extra, top edge gilt, ior. 6d. Fourth and Cheaper 
 Edition. 6s. {Ready. 
 
 ' "Old Country Life," as healthy wholesome reading, full of breezy life and move- 
 ment, full of quaint stories vigorously told, will not be excelled by any book 
 to be published throughout the year. Sound, hearty, and English to the core.'— 
 World.
 
 12 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 HISTORIC ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS. Third 
 Edition, Crown %vo. 6s. 
 ' A collection of exciting and entertaining chapters. The whole volume is delightful 
 reading.' — Times. 
 
 FREAKS OF FANATICISM. (First published as Historic 
 Oddities, Second Series.) Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' Mr. Baring Gould has a keen eye for colour and effect, and the subjects he has 
 chosen give ample scope to his descriptive and analytic faculties. A perfectly 
 fascinating book.' — Scottish Leader. 
 
 SONGS OF THE WEST: Traditional Ballads and Songs of 
 the West of England, with their Traditional Melodies. Collected 
 by S. Baring Gould, M.A., and H. Fleetwood Sheppard, 
 M.A. Arranged for Voice and Piano. In 4 Parts (containing 25 
 Songs each), Parts 7., II., III., $s. each. Tart IV, $s. In one 
 Vol., roan, 15^. 
 'A rich and varied collection of humour, pathos, grace, and poetic fancy.' — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 YORKSHIRE ODDITIES AND STRANGE EVENTS. 
 
 Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 SURVIVALS AND SUPERSTITIONS. With Illustrations. 
 By S. Baring Gould. Cro-wn 8vo. js. 6d. 
 
 A book on such subjects as Foundations, Gables, Holes, Gallows, Raising the Hat, 
 Old Ballads, etc. etc. It traces in a most interesting manner their origin 
 and history. 
 
 'We have read Mr. Baring Gould's book from beginning to end. It is full of 
 quaint and various information, and there is not a dull page in it.' — Notes ana 
 Queries. 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE CAESARS: The 
 
 Emperors of the Julian and Claudian Lines. With numerous Illus- 
 trations from Busts, Gems, Cameos, etc. By S. Baring Gould, 
 Author of ' Mehalah,' etc. 2 vols. Royal %vo. 30J. 
 This book is the only one in English which deals with the personal history of the 
 Caesars, and Mr. Baring Gould has found a subject which, for picturesque detail 
 and sombre interest, is not rivalled by any work of fiction. The volumes are 
 copiously illustrated. 
 ' A most splendid and fascinating book on a subject of undying interest. The great 
 feature of the book is the use the author has made of the existing portraits of the 
 Caesars, and the admirable critical subtlety he has exhibited in dealing with this 
 line of research. It is brilliantly written, and the illustrations are supplied on a 
 scale of profuse magnificence.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 ' The volumes will in no sense disappoint the general reader. Indeed, in their way, 
 there is nothing in any sense so good in English. . . . Mr. Baring Gould has 
 most diligently read his authorities and presented his narrative in such a way as 
 not to make one dull pa.;e.' — Athtnemm.
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 13 
 
 JACQUETTA, and other Stones. Crown Zvo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 ARM I NELL: A Social Romance. New Edition. Crown Svo. 
 2s. 6d. 
 
 •To say that a book is by the author of " Mehalah" is to imply that it contains a 
 story cast on strong lines, containing dramatic possibilities, vivid and sympathetic 
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 tions are justified by "Arminell."' — Speaker. 
 
 URITH: A Story of Dartmoor. Third Edition. CrownSvo. 3s.6d. 
 
 ' The author is at his best.' — Times. 
 
 * He has nearly reached the high water-mark of " Mehalah." '—National Observer. 
 
 MARGERY OF QUETHER, and other Stories. Crown Zvo. 
 3*. 6d. 
 
 IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA : A Tale of the Cornish Coast. 
 New Edition. 6s. 
 
 Fiction 
 
 Author of 'Indian Idylls/ IN TENT AND BUNGALOW: 
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 Picture Boards, is. 
 
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 Author of ' Miss Maxwell's Affections,' 'The Quiet Mrs. Fleming,' 
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 Mr. Pryce's work recalls the style of Octave Feuillet, by its clearness, conciseness, 
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 ' A charming novel. The characters are not only powerful sketches, but minutely 
 and carefully finished portraits.' — Guardian. 
 
 Gray. MY STEWARDSHIP. By E. M'Queen Gray. 
 Crown Svo. 3s. 6d.
 
 14 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Cobban. A REVEREND GENTLEMAN. By J. MacLaren 
 Cobban, Author of ' Master of his Fate,' etc. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 Picture boards, 2s. 
 
 'The best work Mr. Cobban has yet achieved. The Rev. W. Merrydew is a brilliant 
 
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 Lyall. DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. By Edna 
 Lyall, Author of 'Donovan.' Crown 8vo. $ist Thousand. 
 3 s. 6d. ; paper, \s. 
 
 Lynn Linton. THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVID- 
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 and Cheaper Edition. Post 8vo. IS. 
 
 Grey. THE STORY OF CHRIS. By Rowland Grey, 
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 Morning Post. 
 
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 'What with its interesting story, its graceful manner, and its perpetual good 
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 Crown 8vo. 3-r. 6d. 
 
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 Crown 8vo. i>s. 6<£ 
 
 Parker. PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. By Gilbert 
 
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 'Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr. 
 Parker's style.' — Daily Telegraph.
 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 15 
 
 Marriott Watson. DIOGENES OF LONDON and other 
 Sketches. By II. B. Marriott Watson, Author of ' The Web 
 of the Spider.' Crown Svo. Buckram. 6s. 
 
 'Mr. Watson's merits are unmistakable and irresistible.' — Star. 
 
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 Clark Russell. MY DANISH SWEETHEART. By W. Clark 
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 Sea, 'etc. With 6 Illustrations by W. H. Overend. CrownSvo. 6s. 
 ' The book is one of the author's best and breeziest.' — Scotsman. 
 
 Bliss. A MODERN ROMANCE. By Laurence Bliss. 
 
 Crown Svo. Buckram. 3.?. 6d. Paper. 2s. 6d. 
 ' Shows much promise. . . . Excellent of dialogue.' — Atkcruenm. 
 
 Novel Series 
 
 3/6 
 
 Messrs. Methuen will issue from time to time a Series 
 of copyright Novels, by well-known Authors, handsomely 
 bound, at the above popular price of three shillings and six- 
 pence. The first volumes (ready) are : — 
 
 i. THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. By F. Mabel Robinson. 
 
 2. JACQUETTA. By S. Baring Gould, Author of « Mehalah,' 
 
 etc. 
 
 3. MY LAND OF BEULAH. By Mrs. Leith Adams (Mrs. 
 
 De Courcy Laffan). 
 
 4. ELI'S CHILDREN. By G. Manville Fenn. 
 
 5. ARMINELL : A Social Romance. By S. Baring Gould, 
 
 Author of ' Mehalah,' etc. 
 
 6. DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. With Portrait of 
 
 Author. By Edna Lyall, Author of ' Donovan,' etc. Also 
 paper, 15. 
 
 7. DISENCHANTMENT. By F. Mabel Robinson. 
 
 8. DISARMED. By M. Beth am Edwards. 
 
 9. JACK'S FATHER. By W. E. Norris. 
 
 10: MARGERY OF QUETHER. By S. Baring Gould. 
 11. A LOST ILLUSION. By Leslie Keith.
 
 i- 
 
 16 Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 12. A MARRIAGE AT SEA. By W. Clark Russell. 
 
 13. MR. BUTLER'S WARD. By F. Mabel Robinson. 
 
 14. URITH. By S. Baring Gould. 
 
 15. HOVENDEN, V.C. By F. Mabel Robinson. 
 
 Other Volumes will be announced in due course. 
 
 NEW TWO-SHILLING EDITIONS 
 
 Crown 8vo, Ornamental Boards. 
 ARM I NELL. By the Author of • Mehalah.' 
 ELI'S CHILDREN. By G. Manville Fenn. 
 DISENCHANTMENT. By F. Mabel Robinson. 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. By F. Mabel Robinson 
 JACQUETTA. By the Author of ' Mehalah.' 
 
 Picture Boards. 
 THE QUIET MRS. FLEMING. By Richard Pryce. 
 JACK'S FATHER. By W. E. NORRIS. 
 MR. BUTLER'S WARD. By Mabel Robinson. 
 A REVEREND GENTLEMEN. By J. MacLaren Cobban. 
 
 Books for Boys and Girls 
 
 Cuthell. ONLY A GUARD-ROOM DOG. By Mrs. Cuthell. 
 With 16 Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Square Croivn Svo. 6s. 
 
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 big heart in his little body, and played a hero's part more than once. The book 
 can be warmly recommended.' — Standard. 
 
 Collingwood. THE DOCTOR OF THE JULIET. By Harry 
 
 Collingwood, Author of 'The Pirate Island, ' etc. Illustrated by 
 Gordon Browne. Croivn Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' " The Doctor of the Juliet," well illustrated by Gordon Browne, is one of Harry 
 Collingwood's best efforts.' — Morning Post.
 
 1 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 17 
 
 Walford. A PINCH OF EXPERIENCE. By L. B. Wal- 
 ford, Author of 'Mr. Smith.' With Illustrations by Gordon 
 Browne. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
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 Moleswortli. THE RED GRANGE. By Mrs. Molesworth, 
 Author of 'Carrots.' With Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 'A volume in which girls will delight, and beautifully illustrated.' — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
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 Illustrated by GORDON Browne. Crown Svo. 35. 6d. 
 
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 the way in which they are produced.' — Guardian. 
 
 Author of Mdle. Mori.' THE SECRET OF MADAME DE 
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 Crown 8t'o. 5s. 
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 ' Who among the young story-reading public will not rejoice at the sight of the old 
 combiiiation, so often proved admirable— a story by Manville Fenn, illustrated 
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 vigour, breeziness and fun. '—J 'ournal of 'Education. 
 
 Parr. DUMPS. By Mrs. Parr, Author of ' Adam and Eve,' 
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 35. 6d. 
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 Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 ' One of those charmingly-written social tales, which this writer knows so well how to 
 write. It is deligtitlul reading, and is well illustrated by W. Paget.'— Glasgow 
 Herald. 
 2
 
 1 8 Messrs. Metiiuen's List 
 
 Meade. A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE. By L. T. Meade, 
 Author of 'Scamp and I,' etc. Illustrated by R. Barnes. Crown 
 8t'o. 3*. 6d. 
 
 'An excellent story. Vivid portraiture of character, and broad and wholesome 
 
 lessons about life.' — Spectator. 
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 Meade. HEPSY GIPSY. By L. T. Meade. Illustrated by 
 Evf.rard Hopkins. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6J. 
 
 ' Mrs. Meade has not often done better work than this.' — Spectator. 
 
 Meade. THE HONOURABLE MISS : A Tale of a Country 
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 People,' etc. With Illustrations by Everard Hopkins. Crown 
 8vo, 3-f. 6d. 
 
 Adams. MY LAND OF BEULAH. By Mrs. Leith Adams. 
 With a Frontispiece by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d. 
 
 Leaders of Religion 
 
 2/6 
 
 Edited by H. C. BEECHING, M.A. With Portrait, crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 A series of short biographies, free from party bias, of the 
 most prominent leaders of religious life and thought. 
 The following are ready — 
 
 CARDINAL NEWMAN. By R. H. Hutton. 
 
 ' Few who read this book will fail to be struck by the wonderful insight it displays 
 into the nature of the Cardinal's genius and the spirit of his life.' — Wilfrid 
 Ward, in the Tablet. 
 'Full of knowledge, excellent in method,, and intelligent in criticism. We regard it 
 as wholly admirable.' — Academy. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY. By J. H. Overton, M.A. 
 
 ' It is well done : the story is clearly told, proportion is duly observed, and there is 
 no lack either of discrimination or of sympathy.' — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 BISHOP WILBERFORCE. By G. W. Daniel, M.A. 
 CHARLES SIMEON. By H. C. G. Moule, M.A. 
 CARDINAL MANNING. By A. W. Hutton, M.A. 
 Other volumes will be announced in due course.
 
 2(6 
 
 Messrs. Methuen's List 19 
 
 University Extension Series 
 
 A series of books on historical, literary, and scientific subjects, suitable 
 for extension students and home reading circles. Each volume will be 
 complete in itself, and the subjects will be treated by competent writers 
 in a broad and philosophic spirit. 
 
 Edited by J. E. SYMES, M.A., 
 Principal of University College, Nottingham. 
 Crown %vo. 2s. 6d. 
 The following volumes are ready : — 
 THE INDUSTRIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By H. de 
 B. Gibbins, M.A., late Scholar of Wadham College, Oxon., Cobden 
 Prizeman. Second Edition. With Maps and Plans. [Ready. 
 
 A compact and clear story of our industrial development. A study of this concise 
 but luminous book cannot fail to give the reader a clear insight into the principal 
 phenomena of our industrial history. The editor and publishers are to be congra- 
 tulated on this first volume of their venture, and we shall look with expectant 
 interest for the succeeding volumes of the series. ' — University Extension Journal. 
 
 A HISTORY OF ENGLISH POLITICAL ECONOMY. By 
 L. L. Price, M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxon. 
 
 PROBLEMS OF POVERTY : An Inquiry into the Industrial 
 Conditions of the Poor. By J. A. Hobson, M.A. 
 
 VICTORIAN POETS. By A. Sharp. 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. By J. E. Symes, M.A. 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY. By F. S. Granger, M.A., Lecturer in Philo- 
 sophy at University College, Nottingham. 
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF PLANT LIFE : Lower Forms. By 
 G. Massee, Kew Gardens. With Illustrations. 
 
 AIR AND WATER. Professor V. B. Lewes, M.A. Illustrated. 
 
 THE CHEMISTRY OF LIFE AND HEALTH. By C. W. 
 
 Kimmins, M.A. Camb. Illustrated. 
 
 THE MECHANICS OF DAILY LIFE. By V. P. Sells, M.A. 
 
 Illustrated. 
 ENGLISH SOCIAL REFORMERS. H. de B. Gibbins, M.A. 
 
 ENGLISH TRADE AND FINANCE IN THE SEVEN- 
 TEENTH CENTURY. By W. A. S. Hewins, B.A.
 
 2o Messrs. Methuen's List 
 
 Social Questions of To-day- 
 Edited by H. de B. GIBBINS, M.A. 
 
 Crown Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 2/6 
 
 A series of volumes upon those topics of social, economic, 
 and industrial interest that are at the present moment fore- 
 most in the public mind. Each volume of the series will be written 
 by an author who is an acknowledged authority upon the subject 
 with which he deals. 
 
 The following Volumes of the Series are ready : — 
 
 TRADE UNIONISM— NEW AND OLD. By G. Howell, 
 
 M. P., Author of ' The Conflicts of Capital and Labour.' 
 
 THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT TO-DAY. By G. J. 
 
 Holyoake, Author of ' The History of Co-operation.' 
 
 MUTUAL THRIFT. By Rev. J. Frome Wilkinson, M.A., 
 Author of ' The Friendly Society Movement.' 
 
 PROBLEMS OF POVERTY : An Inquiry into the Industrial 
 Conditions of the Poor. By J. A. Hobson, M.A. 
 
 THE COMMERCE OF NATIONS. By C. F. Bastable, 
 
 M.A., Professor of Economics at Trinity College, Dublin. 
 
 THE ALIEN INVASION. By W. H. Wilkins, B.A., Secretary 
 to the Society for Preventing the Immigration of Destitute Aliens. 
 
 THE RURAL EXODUS. By P. Anderson Graham. 
 
 LAND NATIONALIZATION. By Harold Cox, B.A. 
 
 A SHORTER WORKING DAY. By H. DE B. Gibbins 
 and R. A. Hadfield, of the Ilecla Works, Sheffield. 
 
 BACK TO THE LAND, being an inquiry as to the possible 
 conditions under which those now unemployed can be provided with 
 rural work, with practical suggestions as to the means by which a 
 larger number of persons than at present can be maintained from the 
 land. By Harold E. Moore, F.S.I., Author of 'Hints on Land 
 Improvements.' 


 
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