^ LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE A/ Ex Libris ISAAC FOOT LAPSUS CALAMI AND OTHER VERSES ©ambxiOge: PRINTED BY J. & C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. '^JlaCtifr «. SoKtaiipf./i. . LAPSUS CALAMI AND OTHER VERSES BY JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN Cambtitige MACMILLAN AND BOWES 1898 [/ill Rights reserved.l 54A/7 LAPSUS CALAMI Printed April 1 89 1 , Reprinted from standing type with slight alterations May 1891, New {third) Edition with many omissions and additions p-inied June 1891, Fourth Edition printed August 1891, Fifth Edition printed March 1892. QUO MUSA TENDIS? Printed November 1891 LAPSUS CALAMI AND OTHER VERSES /^'^^ Collected Edition 7vith Biographical Introduction and Portrait. Printed Jmie 1896, Reprinted January 1898. INTRODUCTION. James Kenneth Stephen was born in London on the 25th of February, 1859. He was the second son of his father, who aftenvards became Mr Justice Stephen. In 1868 he went to a school at South- borough, near Tunbridge Wells, kept by the Rev. W. C. Wheeler, and in the following year to the Rev. W. T. Browning's school at Thorpe Mandeville, Banbury, which then had a great reputation as a preparatory school for College at Eton. In 187 1 he was elected a Colleger at Eton, being placed second on the list, and he remained at Eton until Easter 1878, being the pupil first of Mr Oscar Browning, and afterwards of Mr F. W. Cornish, now Vice-Provost. While he was at school he worked hard at such of his studies as particularly interested him, and as hard as he thought practically necessary at those that did not. The consequence was that he distinguished himself greatly as an essay-writer, and a student of history, and did not especially distinguish himself either in classics or mathematics. He always did well enough to obtain promotion in the School on the earliest Vi INTRODUCTION. opportunity, and he obtained an Eton Scholarship at King's, which had always been the object he set before himself, in 1878, when he had attained the usual age for leaving school. In athletic pursuits his fortune was not dissimilar. Being big, heavy, and very strong, he took naturally to the "Wall game" of football, in which, I think from the first, he always occupied the position of "Wall," and for summer diversion became a " wet-bob." He got his " College Wall " colours, if I remember right, in 1874, and was Captain, or "Keeper of the Wall" in 1876 and 1877. In the former of those years his team terminated a long series of successive drawn matches with the " Oppidans," beating them by four "shies" to nothing, and the following year the Col- legers won by ten " shies " to nothing. I believe he was one of the best " Walls " who ever played at the game, and for at least ten years — that is, nearly the rest of his life — he took a great interest in it, and seldom failed to take an eleven to play the College team of the year. In rowing he was not eminent, a certain stiffness of joints, and perhaps some disin- clination to take the pains about various small things necessary to proficiency in that art, preventing his rowing in any of the "Upper Boats" except the "Monarch," to which he belonged in 1877. He could, however, for a short time, get an astonishing amount of work out of an oar, and I have heard an accomplished oarsman bitterly deplore his inability or unwillingness to learn to " get forward." INTRODUCTION. VU Two of the poems at the beginning of Quo Musa Tendis?, now printed at pp. 123-127 of this volume, show the strength and duration of his affection for Eton. Since the original appearance of T/ie Old School List a melancholy interest has been added to the concluding stanza: There were two good fellows I used to know, — How distant it all appears ! We played together in football weather, And messed together for years : Now one of them's wed, and the other's dead So long that he's hardly missed Save by us, who messed with him years ago : But we're all in the old School List. The "one of them" first-mentioned in the fifth line was Harry Chester Goodhart, late Professor of Latin at Edinburgh University. He died in April 1895, 2.t the age of thirty-seven, the last survivor of the mess of three. In October 1878 James went into residence at King's, and speedily became one of the best-known undergraduates of his time. He read at Cambridge in much the same way as he had done his lessons at Eton. His University distinctions were that he obtained the " Members' Prize " for an English Essay, the first "Winchester Reading Prize" for reading aloud — a curious competition that many Cambridge men will remember, and the first Whewell Scholarship in International Law. He was also bracketed first in the first class in the History Tripos in 1881, a success viii INTRODUCTION. which was particularly satisfactory because no candi- date had been placed in the first class in either of the two preceding years, owing, as contemporary tradition declared, to the peculiar merit of the first class in 1878 when Mr Bernard Holland was "senior." At the "Union" he held the offices usually held by the most successful speakers, being President in the first (October) term of his third year. He was elected a Fellow of King's in 1885. While at Cambridge he learnt to play tennis, and became exceedingly fond of the game. The verses called " Parker's Piece, May 19, 1891 " truthfully represent his sentiments on the subject. In the summer of 1883 he was selected to read history with Prince Edward of Wales, afterwards Duke of Clarence, when the Prince had returned from his cruise in the Bacchante, and was going up to Trinity in the following October. For this purpose he lived for three months at Sandringham, where his life was as agreeable to him as his task was profoundly interesting. The lamented death of his illustrious pupil, nine years later, happened barely a week before his own. In 1885 James was called to the Bar, having been a pupil in the chambers of Mr Fletcher Moulton, and subsequently of Mr R. B. Haldane and the late Mr Northmore Lawrence. His intention was to practise at the Chancery Bar, and after completing his term of pupilage mth Mr Lawrence he took chambers in Stone Buildings. During this time, however, he INTRODUCTION. IX adopted the practice of journalism, and in the latter part of 1 886 he became, and continued for a year or rather more, a constant contributor to the Sf James's Gazette, which was then edited by his father's old friend Mr Frederick Greenwood, who had founded it in the summer of the preceding year. He was an extremely facile, forcible, and original writer, and during this part of his life contributed also frequently to the Satjirday Review, and occasionally to the Pall Mall Gazette and other organs. It was in the last- named journal that he published two of his most successful parodies. In the winter of 1886-7, while paying a visit at Felixstowe, he accidentally received a very severe blow on the head. He did not lose consciousness but was badly cut. The wound healed, but I do not think he ever enjoyed perfect health again. At the beginning of 1888 he founded a weekly newspaper called the Reflector. The paper was con- ducted in open defiance of many of the rules usually observed by practical journalists. My brother's original intention was that the paper should not contain more than one or two articles, that its contents should be political or literary as occasion offered, and that no attempt should be made to affect that universal knowledge which is the ideal of most weekly productions ; the paper and printing were to be of the best possible quality and the Reflector was to be its own advertisement. He hoped that good writing alone would procure the com- X INTRODUCTION. paratively modest circulation which would make the undertaking self-supporting. He edited, managed and published it himself, and wrote I should think nearly half of it. Among his contributors were Mr George Meredith, Mr Gosse, the late Mr Locker-Lampson, Mrs Richmond Ritchie, Miss Mary Cholmondeley, and Messrs Augustine Birrell, Bernard Holland, Rennell Rodd and "F. Anstey." A great quantity of excellent writing was to be found in its columns; but the journal increased in bulk with a rapidity out of all proportion to the growth of its circulation, and after seventeen numbers had appeared my brother's resources were exhausted, and the Reflector ceased to appear. I do not think the circulation had ever exceeded 250, but in my opinion distinct traces of its influence may be observed in at least one important newspaper of to-day, and to some extent in the current style of metropolitan journahsm generally. Its failure was a great disappointment to my brother, who had throughout taken an inexphcably sanguine view of the pecuniary side of the enterprise. James had for the time abandoned all professional work, but in the summer of 1888 his father appointed him Clerk of Assize for the South Wales Circuit, in the hope that in the intervals between circuits, when the official work of that post is comparatively light, he would be able either to resume his contributions to newspapers, or to acquire some practice at the bar. Of this, however, his health did not at any time permit. After vicissitudes of illness, and one period of leave of INTRODUCTION. XI absence from his official duties, he resigned his Clerk- ship of Assize in 1890, and in the spring of 1891 returned to Cambridge, where for two terms he took pupils and gave lectures in constitutional history. During this period he revived his fame as a speaker at the Union. He could do many things well, but in my opinion he excelled his contemporaries more decidedly as a public speaker — whether on a plat- form or in a debating society — than in any other capacity. I think he was the best public speaker I ever heard, and a similar opinion has been expressed by men of much greater experience than mine. He also took a conspicuous part in other branches of University life, making friends among a new and younger generation of undergraduates as quickly and as easily as he had done among his own contem- poraries ten years before. It was after his return to Cambridge that he conceived the idea of re-pubhshing the little poems the composition of which had been one of his constant amusements. The success of the venture exceeded any expectations which had been entertained by himself or his friends, but it may be worth while to remind those who know of him only as the author of Lapsus Calami and Quo Musa Tetidisl that those works represent only a small and comparatively trivial part of his talents, and give no indication of the features of his character best remem- bered by those who knew him with any degree of intimacy. In the autumn of 1891 James seemed to be in Xll INTRODUCTION. better health than he had been for some years, and on his return to Cambridge after the long vacation he took an active part in the controversy then pro- ceeding as to whether some knowledge of Greek should continue to be a necessary qualification for a degree. He vigorously opposed the suggested inno- vation, and pubhshed under the title "The Living Languages" (Cambridge: Macmillan and Bowes, 1891) a pamphlet expounding his opinions on the subject with great cogency and clearness. To his great gratification the Senate, by a signal majority, gave effect to the views he had supported. His second volume of verse was prepared for pubhcation, and for the most part written, during the summer and autumn of this year. The apparent improvement in his health proved to have been illusory. He was taken seriously ill, and had to give up his work and leave Cambridge, in November, and he died on the 3rd of February, 1892. The original edition of Lapsus Calaini was pub- Hshed in April 189 1, and a second followed in May. The third, "with considerable omissions and addi- tions," appeared in June, a fourth in August, and a fifth in March 1892. Quo Musa Tendisl was pub- Hshed in November, a day or two after the author's last illness had declared itself The present edition is intended as a complete and final edition of all my brother's poems. It will be observed that I have included several pieces which the author advisedly omitted from the third edition. I do so, in the first INTRODUCTION. Xlll place, because the publishers tell me that they are asked for, and are out of print. I think, however, that there is some further justification for their re- publication. It continually happens that where good work in short pieces — whether prose or verse — is under consideration, readers of more or less import- ance will be found choosing widely different pieces as the best. If everybody agrees that one or two poems, or one or two stories, in a volume, are of surpassing merit, I think it is a reasonable conclusion that the average merit of the collection is not high. From printed and spoken criticisms, and from what my brother told me about the reception of Lapsus Calami, I believe that many different people especially liked many different pieces, and that their average merit was in fact higher than it would perhaps appear to any single reader to be. Therefore I have made this edition practically complete, omitting only a few short pieces for more or less special reasons. Quo Musa Tendts? is republished without alteration. Two sets of verses are now printed for the first time. I think it likely that they were originally omitted only because my brother happened not to have copies of them. The Hnes from the Visitors' Book at the Pen-y-gwryd Hotel were written in 1880, and were seen there by the author some years later, but on a subsequent visit were found to have been cut out and stolen. The lines from the book in a friend's house at Lyndhurst had been demanded, but not written, before my brother's departure. They were written, I think, in xiv INTRODUCTION. the train, being artfully made to subserve a useful purpose in the recovery of an umbrella which had been left behind, and were posted at Waterloo. The portrait which forms the frontispiece is a photogravure by Messrs Walker and Boutall from a chalk drawing made by Mr F. Miller in 1887. H. S. DE Vere Gardens. May, i8q6. CONTENTS. LAPSUS CALAMI. PAGE To C. S. C I To R. K. 3 A Political Allegory . 4 The Grand Old Pipe 8 Drinking Song ........ 10 COMBI SOXGS. Coll. Regal. ........ 13 Boating Song ........ ii The Littlego ........ 17 SINCERE FLATTERY. I. Of F. W. H. M. 1. To One that smokes . . .21 2. To A. T. M 22 II. Of R. B. 1. To A. S 24 2. The Last Ride together . . 26 3. Midsummer ..... 30 III. Of W. W. (Americanus) .... 31 IV. Of W. W. (Britannicus) Poetic lamentation on the insufficiency of steam locomotion in the Lake District 32 V. Of T. G. Ode on a retrospect of Eton College . 34 VI. Of Lord B. A Grievance 37 xvi CONTENTS. PAGE VII. Of A. H. C. The Literary and Scientific Society . 40 VIII. Of W. S. (Sir) The Hundred Yards Race .... 44 IX. Of W. S. (Mr) For Greek Iambics .... 47 X. 'OMHPOT The Hurdles and Quarter of a Mile . . 48 THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EX- PRESSED DIFFERENTLY, ERRORS OF JUDG- MENT, IMPROMPTUS, &c. To W. H 53 4th July, 1882, Malines: Midnight. ... 54 Ballade of the Drowning Fusee .... 55 Ballade of the Incompetent Ballade-Monger . . 57 Triolets Ollendorfiens 59 To D. J. S. I . Written on the Fly-Leaf of Treasure Island by a "Hesitating Purchaser" ... 60 7.. Written on the Fly-Leaf of Maclise's Portrait Gallery, edited by Bates . 61 The Philosopher and the Philanthropist ... 62 To a Friend 63 A Thought 64 Lines at the River-Side 65 " Facilis Descensus Averni " . . . . . (>(> Early School 68 An Election Address 69 Written for friends at Lyndhurst, in response to a request for "a poem or sentiment" to be inscribed in a "Visitors' Book," 1882 .... 71 \Vritten in the "Visitors' Book" at the Pen-y-gwryd Hotel, about 1880 72 CONTENTS. xvii NOVI LAPSUS. DE LAPSIBUS PRIORIBUS. Two Roundels. page 1. The Poet's Prayer . . . . 77 2. To an Indiscreet Critic .... 78 From Three Fly Leaves. 1. To P. L., aged 45 ... . 79 2. To B. C 80 3. To R. C. B 80 THE RETORT COURTEOUS. I. England and America. 1. On a Rhine Steamer .... 83 2. On a Parisian Boulevard ... 85 II. Men and Women. 1. In the Backs 87 2. On the King's Parade .... 89 RESCUED FROM THE WASTE PAPER BASKET. Parker's Piece, May 19, 189 1 95 The Street Organs Bill, 1891 . . . . 97 Ode on the 450th Anniversary' Celebration at Eton 99 Steam Launches on the Thames . . . . loi To B. H. H. (on his travels) 102 A Parodist's Apology 105 A Sonnet ......... 106 To a Lady . . . . . . , . 107 Regrets. A Roundel 108 June 19, 1891 109 To A. H. C Ill To my Readers 114 S. 2 q xviii CONTENTS. QUO MUSA TENDIS? PAGE Lapsus Calami . . . . . . . .119 NUGAE ETONENSES. My Old School 123 The Old School List 125 PAULLO MAJORA CANAMUS. A Remonstrance 131 A Joke 133 An Afterthought 135 To a Rejected Lover ...... 136 Paint and Ink. To C. W. F 139 A Paradox? To F. C. H 143 Question and Answer. To H. R. . . . 147 Blue Hills. An Allegory. To A. M. P. . . 149 The Dawn of the Year ..... 151 Battle 153 The Malefactor's Plea 155 LAPSUS ULTIML The Splinter 159 My Education 161 After the Golden Wedding. (Three Soliloquies.) 1. The Husband's . . . . .162 2. The Wife's 164 3. The Vicar's ...... 167 A Pair of Portraits. 1. He 168 2. She ........ 169 CONTENTS. xix PAGE A Pair of Fools. 1. His account of the matter . . . 170 2. Her account of the matter . . .173 3. My account of the matter . . . ijj Eleg)' on de Marsay 176 Senex to Matt. Prior ij-8 Cynicus to W. Shakspere ij9 IN MEMORIAM. 1. J. R. Lowell 183 2. The Rt. Hon. H. C. Raikes . . . .184 AQUARELLES. In a Garden 189 Autumn Thoughts 192 After Sunset. 1. Aug. 30, 1891 194 2. Sept. 5, 1891 195 3. Sept. 9, 1 89 1 196 DESINE PERVICAX. Labenti Calamo 199 2 — 2 LAPSUS CALAMI PIO FUNDATORL Post quatuor iam lustra deponens togam, lAM iam FUTURUS RUSTICUS, alumnus olim, vile consecro tibi, Henrice rex, opusculum. id. Mart, mdcccxci. To C. S. C. Oh, when the grey courts of Christ's College glowed With all the rapture of thy frequent lay, When printers' devils chuckled as they strode, And bhthe compositors grew loudly gay : Did Granta realise that here abode, Here in the home of Milton, Wordsworth, Gray, A poet not unfit to cope with any That ever wore the bays or turned a penny? The wit of smooth delicious Matthew Prior, The rhythmic grace which Hookham Frere displayed. The summer lightning wreathing Byron's lyre, The neat inevitable turns of Praed, Rhymes to which Hudibras could scarce aspire, Such metric pranks as Gilbert oft has played. All these good gifts and others far sublimer Are found in thee, beloved Cambridge rhymer. And scholarship as sound as his whose name Matched thine (he Hves to mourn, alas, thy death, And now enjoys the plenitude of fame, And oft to crowded audience lectureth, Or writes to prove religion is the same As science, unbelief a form of faith): — Ripe scholar ! Virgil's self would not be chary Of praises for thy Carmen Seculare. Whene'er I take my "pint of beer" a day, I "gaze into my glass" and think of thee: When smoking, after "lunch is cleared away," Thy face amid the cloud I seem to see; When "that sweet mite with whom I used to play," Or "Araminta," or "the fair Miss P." Recur to me, I think upon thy verses. Which still my beating heart and quench my curses. Ah, Calverley ! if in these lays of mine Some sparkle of thy radiant genius burned, Or were in any poem — stanza — line Some faint reflection of thy muse discerned : If any critic would remark in fine "Of C. S. C. this gentle art he learned;" I should not then expect my book to fail. Nor have my doubts about a decent sale. Pall Mall Gazette, March 4th, 1891. To R. K. As long I dwell on some stupendous And tremendous (Heaven defend us !) Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous Demoniaco-seraphic Penman's latest piece of graphic. Browning. Will there never come a season Which shall rid us from the curse Of a prose which knows no reason And an unmelodious verse : When the world shall cease to wonder At the genius of an Ass, And a boy's eccentric blunder Shall not bring success to pass : When mankind shall be delivered From the clash of magazines, And the inkstand shall be shivered Into countless smithereens : When there stands a muzzled stripling, Mute, beside a muzzled bore : When the Rudyards cease from kipling And the Haggards Ride no more. Cambridge Review, February, 1891. A Political Allegory*. Once there was a famous nation With a long and glorious past : Very splendid was its station, And its territory vast; It had won the approbation, The applause and admiration. Of the states who'd had occasion, In a time of tribulation. And of disorganisation, Not to mention degradation. And profound humihation, To observe it standing fast Without any trepidation. Or a sign of vacillation, Firm and faithful to the last. Came a time of dire distraction, Full of terror and despair, When a delicate transaction Called for unexampled care; But the people were directed, Both the well and ill-affected. To a wholly unexpected * From "A Wreath of Song" by the Lotos Club. Cam- bridge, Deighton and Bell, 1880. 5 And surprising course of action, Based on motives new and rare (Being governed by a faction, As they generally were). In a little time the nation Had a chance of saying whether It and its administration Seemed inclined to pull together: And it spoke its mind with vigour; "Such disgraceful conduct must Everlastingly disfigure Future annals, and disgust Evermore the candid student: You have been unwise, imprudent, Pusillanimous, unjust. And neglectful of the glory Appertaining to our name Till this melancholy story Put a period to our fame." So this faction, disappointed, Lost the national good graces, And their rivals were anointed, And were set in the high places. Pretty soon arose conditions Most embarrassing and hard. And the party politicians Had to be upon their guard. Illegitimate ambitions, Democratic rhetoricians, Persons prone to base submissions, Men of warlike dispositions. Wild and wicked statisticians, Metaphysical magicians, People apt to sign petitions, Men inclined to make conditions. And a host of wary foes. Compassed round the ruling faction: But a certain line of action They incontinently chose : And with great determination. And extreme discrimination, Not untouched by exaltation. After proper preparation, And profound examination, Wrought it out with acclamation, And each other's approbation, Till the national taxation Not unnaturally rose. To the nation now occurred an Opportunity of saying What they thought about the burden Which the government was laying On their shoulders : and they said it In uncompromising terms : — "Your behaviour would discredit Tigers, crocodiles and worms : You have ruined and disgraced us, And successfully effaced us From the proud commanding station Where the zeal and penetration Of our ancestors had placed us. Go ! we are a ruined nation ; But before our dissolution We pronounce your condemnation — Sappers of our constitution, Slayers of our reputation ! " But the nation — mark the moral, For its value is untold — During each successive quarrel Grew and prospered as of old. 8 The Grand Old Pipe. I have ceased to believe in the Leader Whom I loved in the days of my youth: Is he, or am I the seceder? It were hard to determine the truth. But my enmity is not impassioned : I'll forgive and forget if I can, And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned Like the face of the Grand Old Man. It was made in the days when his collars Were still of the usual size, And before the recipients of dollars Were known as his trusted allies : But I love, as I lounge in the garden, Or work at my chambers, to gaze At the face of the master of Hawarden, As he was in the Grand Old Days. My pipe was my one consolation When its antitype kindled the flame Which threatened the brave population Of Ulster with ruin and shame : I forgot that our ruler was dealing With scamps of the Sheridan type, While the true orange colour was stealing O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe. Did his conduct grow ever absurder Till no remnant of reason seemed left? Did he praise the professors of murder? Does he preach the evangel of theft? When he urges our eloquent neighbours To keep other men's land in their gripe, Grows he black in his face with his labours? Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe. For the sake of its excellent savour. For the many sweet smokes of the past, My pipe keeps its hold on my favour, Tho' now it is blackening fast : And, remembering how long he has striven, And the merits he used to possess, And his fall, let him now be forgiven. Though he has made a Grand Old Mess. Reflector, January, i lO Drinking Song. To A. S.* There are people, I know, to be found, Who say and apparently think That sorrow and care may be drowned By a timely consumption of drink. Does not man, these enthusiasts ask, Most nearly approach the divine When engaged in the soul-stirring task Of filling his body with wine? Have not beggars been frequently known When satisfied, soaked and replete. To imagine their bench was a throne And the civilised world at their feet? Lord Byron has finely described The remarkably soothing effect Of liquor, profusely imbibed. On a soul that is shattered and wrecked. In short, if your body or mind Or your soul or your purse come to grief, You need only get drunk, and you'll find Complete and immediate relief. For myself, I have managed to do Without having recourse to this plan, So I can't write a poem for you, And you'd better get someone who can. Reflector, January, 1888. * Who had asked for one, to set to music. COMBI SONGS s. Coll. Regal. (Air : Gaudeamus igiiv.r. ) Gaudeamus igitur Juvenes dum sumus: Post jucundam juventutem, Post molestam senectutem, Nos habebit humus. Vivat Academia ! Vivant Professores ! Vivat membrum quodlibet ! Vivant membra quaelibet ! Semper sint in flore ! Floreat Collegium Quod audit Regale ! Vivat Oscar Browningus ! Vivat Georgius Prothero ! Et Arturus Tilley! 3—2 14 Floreat Praepositus, Maximus Augustus ! Floreant Bursarii, Austen Leighi varii, Fredericus Justus ! Aequam servent animara Arduis decani: Tu Etona floreas ! Floreant CoUegeri ! Vivant Oppidani! Vivat J. K. Stephanus, Humilis poeta ! Vivat Monty Jamesius, Vivant A, B, C, D, E Et totus Alphabeta! 1890. 15 Boating Song. K.B.C. Lent 1880. (Air: Ws a fine hunting day.) On a damp windy day In tempestuous May, In a most insufficient attire, What a pleasure to row For a furlong or so, And to glow with a patriot's fire : There is glory to ^vin in the fray, There are crowds to applaud all the way, We shall very soon be At the top of the tree If we all go out every day. ChoftiS. Let's all go out every day From now till the middle of May : We shall very soon be At the top of the tree If we all go out every day. By the top of the tree, As I think you must see, It's the head of the river I mean : An appropriate place For our vessel to grace At which she will shortly be seen : There are still a few boats in the way. But Rome is not built in a day, i6 And I have not a doubt We shall bring it about If we all go out every day. Choriis. Says our captain, says he : — " May you all of yoa be Dissected and roasted and skinned : Five rowed with his back In the shape of a sack And then, when I swore at him, grinned : Six, get those hands sharper away ! Keep your eyes in the boat there, I say ! Now get on to it, do ! Get that body down, Two ! Your time's worse than ever to-day." Chorus. Both our Tutors are there, Neither pleasure nor care Can keep them away from the scene : And who shouteth so loud In that jubilant crowd As each blown but uproarious Dean ? The Provost brings down Mrs A, Who runs a good part of the way ; *Oscar Browning himself Throws his gown on the shelf And dismisses his staff for the day. Chorus. * Originally written " Our Proctor himself Throws his bands on the shelf." 17 The Littlego. (Air: Kaphoozehini.') When I was young and wholly free From any \-ice, however nice, And did not yet aspire to be Where men of beer and skittle go, My young idea used to shoot, Secure and gay, from day to day, Until I met that hideous brute The fiend-descended Littlego, Choi'us. Oh ! the Littlego, the Littlego, the Littlego ! Oh ! the Littlego, the daughter of the Devil ! Alas, poor victims that we are, Who sport beside the Cam's clear tide, Before we get us to the Bar, To Church or to Hospital go, We study Mr Paley's views, We have to deal with yards of steel, We likewise woo the tragic muse, And all to pass the Littlego. Chorus. I too, like other men, was coached, Was duly packed with fact on fact, And then that awful hall approached Where all who live by victual go : i8 They ploughed me once, they ploughed me twice, I won't say when those cruel men Desisted, but let this suffice : I did get through the Littlego. Chorus. I feel inclined to prophesy That this effete and obsolete And hydra-headed pest will die And to perdition it '11 go: They'll substitute for complex plans Incontinent abolishment, And only antiquarians Will care about the Littlego. CJiorus. But still at that appalling hour When churchyards gape, a hideous shape Behind me moved, by unseen power, Like some debauched bandit, '11 go : Enveloped in a Paley sheet. It waves on high an x -^y, And dogs me down each dismal street — The spectre of the Littlego. Chorus. 1880. SINCERE FLATTERS / I. Of F. W. H. M. I. To One that smokes. Spare us the hint of slightest desecration, Spotless preserve us an untainted shrine ; Not for thy sake, oh goddess of creation, Not for thy sake, oh woman, but for mine. 1891. 22 2. To A. T. M. See where the K., in sturdy self-reliance, Thoughtful and placid as a brooding dove, Stands, firmly sucking, in the cause of science, Just such a peppermint as schoolboys love. Suck, placid K. : the world will be thy debtor; Though thine eyes water and thine heart grow faint. Suck : and the less thou likest it the better ; Suck for our sake, and utter no complaint. Near thee a being, passionate and gentle, Man's latest teacher, wisdom's pioneer, Calmly majestically monumental, Stands : the august Telepathist is here. Waves of perception, subtle emanations. Thrill through the ether, circulate amain; Delicate soft impalpable sensations, Born of thy palate, quiver in his brain. Lo ! with a voice unspeakably dramatic, Lo ! with a gesture singularly fine, He makes at last a lucid and emphatic Statement of what is in that mouth of thine. 23 He could detect that peppermint's existence, He read its nature in the book of doom; Standing at some considerable distance ; Standing, in fact, in quite another room. Was there a faint impenetrable essence Wafted towards him from the sucking K. ? Did some pale ghost inform him of its presence ? Or did it happen in some other way? These are the questions nobody can answer, These are the problems nobody can solve; Only we know that Man is an Advancer: Only we know the Centuries revolve. Reflector, January, 1888. 24 II. Of R. B. I. To A. S. Birthdays? yes, in a general way; For the most if not for the best of men : You were born (I suppose) on a certain day: So was I : or perhaps in the night : what then ? Only this : or at least, if more, You must know, not think it, and learn, not speak : There is truth to be found on the unknown shore, And many will find where few will seek. For many are called and few are chosen, And the few grow many as ages lapse : But when will the many grow few: what dozen Is fused into one by Time's hammer-taps? A bare brown stone in a babbling brook : — It was wanton to hurl it there, you say : And the moss, which clung in the sheltered nook (Yet the stream runs cooler), is washed away. That begs the question : many a prater Thinks such a suggestion a sound " stop thief I" Which, may I ask, do you think the greater, Sergeant-at-arms or a Robber Chief? 25 And if it were not so? still you doubt? Ah ! yours is a birthday indeed if so. That were something to write a poem about, If one thought a little. I only know. P.S. There's a Me Society down at Cambridge, AVhere my works, cum notis variorum, Are talked about; well, I require the same bridge That Euclid took toll at as Asinorum: And, as they have got through several ditties I thought were as stiff as a brick-built wall, I've composed the above, and a stiff one it is, A bridge to stop asses at, once for all. Cambridge Meteor, June, 1883. 26 2. The Last Ride together. (From Her point of view.) When I had firmly answered "No," And he allowed that that was so, I really thought I should be free For good and all from Mr B., And that he would soberly acquiesce: I said that it would be discreet That for a while we should not meet; I promised I would always feel A kindly interest in his weal; I thanked him for his amorous zeal ; In short, I said all I could but "yes." I said what I'm accustomed to; I acted as I always do; I promised he should find in me A friend, — a sister, if that might be: But he was still dissatisfied: He certainly was most polite ; He said exactly what was right, He acted very properly. Except indeed for this, that he Insisted on inviting me To come Avith him for " one more last ride.' 27 A little while in doubt I stood : A ride, no doubt, would do me good: I had a habit and a hat Extremely well worth looking at : The weather was distinctly fine: My horse too wanted exercise. And time, when one is riding, flies: Besides it really seemed, you see, The only way of ridding me Of pertinacious Mr B. : So my head I graciously incline. I won't say much of what happened next: I own I was extremely vexed : Indeed I should have been aghast If any one had seen what passed : But nobody need ever know- That, as I leaned forward to stir the fire, He advanced before I could well retire, And I suddenly felt, to my great alarm, The grasp of a warm unlicensed arm, An embrace in which I found no charm; I was awfully glad when he let me go. Then we began to ride: my steed Was rather fresh, too fresh indeed, And at first I thought of little, save The way to escape an early grave, As the dust rose up on either side. My stem companion jogged along On a brown old cob both broad and strong: s. 4 28 He looked as he does when he's writing verse, Or endeavouring not to swear and curse, Or wondering where he has left his purse: Indeed it was a sombre ride. I spoke of the weather to Mr B. : But he neither listened nor spoke to me : I praised his horse, and I smiled the smile Which was wont to move him once on a while ; I said I was wearing his favourite flowers : But I wasted my words on the desert air. For he rode with a fixed and gloomy stare : I wonder what he was thinking about : As I don't read verse, I sha'n't find out : It was something subtle and deep, no doubt, A theme to detain a man for hours. Ah ! there was the corner where Mr S. So nearly induced me to whisper " yes " : And here it was that the next but one Proposed on horseback, or would have done. Had his horse not most opportunely shied ; Which perhaps was due to the unseen flick He received from my whip : 'twas a scurvy trick. But I never could do with that young man: I hope his present young woman can. Well, I must say, never, since time began. Did I go for a duller or longer ride. He never smiles and he never speaks: He might go on like this for weeks : 29 He rolls a slightly frenzied eye Towards the blue and burning sky, And the cob bounds on with tireless stride. If we aren't at home for lunch at two I don't know what Papa will do ; But I know full well he will say to me " I never approved of Mr B. : " It's the very devil that you and he "Ride, ride together, for ever ride." 1891. 4—3 30 3- Midsummer. Persons at various times have said That the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched day Is a thing to thank God for : strike me dead If I let such a falsehood lack its nay. When Philip of Spain, or our own red Mary, Desired to be rid of an impious man, Did they freeze him to death ? they were not so chary Of man's worst weapon, the frying pan. The fire, or the frying pan — well, the adage Tells us the difference is but small, And the fact remains that in that last bad age When man had all torture-tricks at call. They knew what was best and did it duly, And broiled those most whom they loved the least. Man, is it thou that hast proved unruly? They are broiling thee, thou sinful beast. Languid and frenzied, most despairing When least's to despair at, such we grow. When the sun's rays down on our heads, naught sparing. Burn and blister. I'd have you know I have strung together these sad reflections To prove to my tutor, a stern stark man, That my chance of a decent place in collections Drooped and died when the heat began. Eton Rambler, June, 1880. 31 III. Of W. W. {Americanus). The clear cool note of the cuckoo which has ousted the legitimate nest-holder, The whistle of the railway guard despatching the train to the inevitable collision, The maiden's monosyllabic reply to a polysyllabic proposal. The fundamental note of the last trump, which is presumably D natural; All of these are sounds to rejoice in, yea to let your very ribs re-echo with : But better than all of them is the absolutely last chord of the apparently inexhaustible pianoforte player. The Granta, February, 1891. 32 IV. Of W. W. {Brtiannicus). Poetic lamentation on the insufficiency of STEAM locomotion IN THE LaKE DISTRICT. Bright Summer spreads his various hue O'er nestling vales and mountains steep, Glad birds are singing in the blue, In joyous chorus bleat the sheep. But men are walking to and fro, Are riding, driving far and near, And nobody as yet can go By train to Buttermere. The sunny lake, the mountain track, The leafy groves are little gain, While Rydal's pleasant pathways lack The rattle of the passing train. But oh ! what poet would not sing That heaven-kissing rocky cone. On whose steep side the railway king Shall set his smoky throne? Helvellyn in those happy days With tunnelled base and grimy peak Will mark the lamp's approaching rays. Will hear the whistle's warning shriek : Will note the coming of the mails, And watch with unremitting stare The dusky grove of iron rails Which leads to Euston-square. 33 Wake, England, wake ! 'tis now the hour To sweep away this black disgrace — The want of locomotive power In so enjoyable a place. Nature has done her part, and why Is mightier man in his to fail? ^ I want to hear the porters cry, " Change here for Ennerdale ! " Man ! nature must be sought and found In lonely pools, on verdant banks; Go, fight her on her chosen ground, Turn shapely Thirlmere into tanks : Pursue her to her last retreats. And if perchance a garden plot Is found among the London streets, Smoke, steam and spare it not. Presumptuous nature ! do not rate Unduly high thy humble lot, Nor vainly strive to emulate The fame of Stephenson and Watt. The beauties which thy lavish pride Has scattered through the smihng land Are little worth till sanctified By man's completing hand. Pall Mall Gazette, November, 1882. 34 V. Of T. G. Ode on a retrospect of Eton Collegk. Ye bigot spires, ye Tory towers, That crown the watery lea, Where grateful science still adores The aristocracy : A happy usher once I strayed Beneath your lofty elm trees' shade, With mind untouched by guilt or woe : But mad ambition made me stray Beyond the round of work and play Wherein we ought to go. My office was to teach the young Idea how to shoot : But, ah ! I joined with eager tongue Political dispute : I ventured humbly to suggest That all things were not for the best Among the Irish peasantry : And finding all the world abuse My simple unpretending views, I thought I'd go and see. I boldly left the College bounds : Across the sea I went, 35 To probe the economic grounds Of Irish discontent. My constant goings to and fro Excited some alarm ; and so PoHcemen girded up their loins, And, from his innocent pursuits, — Morose unsympathetic brutes, — They snatched a fearful Joynes. Escaped, I speedily returned To teach the boys again : But ah, my spirit inly burned To think on Ireland's pain. Such wrongs must out : and then, you see, My own adventures might not be Uninteresting to my friends : I therefore ventured to prepare A little book, designed with care, To serve these humble ends. Our stern head-master spoke to me Severely : — " You appear " {Horresco refer ens) to be "A party pamphleteer. " If you must write, let Caesar's page " Or Virgil's poetry engage "Your all too numerous leisure hours: "But now annihilate and quash "This impious philanthropic bosh: "Or quit these antique towers." 36 It seems that he who dares to write Is all unfit to teach : And literary fame is quite Beyond an usher's reach. I dared imprisonment in vain : The little bantling of my brain I am compelled to sacrifice. The moral, after all, is this : — That here, where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise. I^a/l Mall Gazette, November, 1882. 37 VI. Of Lord B. A Grievance. Dear Mr Editor : I wish to say — If you will not be angry at my writing it — But I've been used, since childhood's happy day, When I have thought of something, to inditing it : I seldom think of things : and, by the way. Although this metre may not be exciting, it Enables one to be extremely terse, Which is not what one always is in verse. I used to know a man, — such things befall The observant wayfarer through Fate's domain : He was a man, take him for all in all. We shall not look upon his like again : I know that statement's not original : What statement is, since Shakspere ? or, since Cain, What murder? I believe 'twas Shakspere said it, or Perhaps it may have been your Fighting Editor. 38 Though why an Editor should fight, or why A Fighter should abase himself to edit, Are problems far too difficult and high For me to solve with any sort of credit : Some greatly more accomplished man than 1 Must tackle them : let's say then Shakspere said it: And, if he did not, Lewis Morris may (Or even if he did). Some other day, When I have nothing pressing to impart, I should not mind dilating on this matter: I feel its import both in head and heart. And always did, — especially the latter : I could discuss it in the busy mart Or on the lonely housetop : hold ! this chatter Diverts me from my purpose. To the point : The time, as Hamlet said, is out of joint. And I perhaps was born to set it right; A fact I greet with perfect equanimity; I do not put it down to " cursed spite " : I don't see any cause for cursing in it: I Have always taken very great delight In such pursuits since first I read divinity: Whoever will may write a nation's songs As long as I'm allowed to right its wrongs. 39 What's Eton but a nursery of wrong-righters, A mighty mother of effective men, A training-ground for amateur reciters, A sharpener of the sword as of the pen, A factory of orators and fighters, A forcing-house of genius? Now and then. The world at large shrinks back, abashed and beaten, Unable to endure the glare of Eton. I think I said I knew a man : what then ? I don't suppose such knowledge is forbid : We nearly all do, more or less, know men, — Or think we do : nor will a man get rid Of that delusion, while he wields a pen : But who this man was, what, if aught, he did, Nor why I mentioned him, I do not know ; Or what I "wished to say" a while ago. The Parachute, Eton, July, 1889. 40 VII. Of A. H. C. The Literary and Scientific Society. ye musical nine, who drink the Castalian waters, Seated on peaks of Olympus (or, if ye prefer it, Olumpos, — Browning's a far better judge of the matter than yours very truly — ), Pray be so good as to give me assistance, — for, tho' I'm a poet, 1 should be glad to receive a certain amount of assistance — , Give me your help while I sing how Smith, on the 4th of December, Did us the honour to read a paper entitled " Pompeii," In a Society whose name defies the restriction of metre. Scarce need we tell of his fervour, research, erudition and learning, These we must all have observed for ourselves, or at all events heard of, Heard of from President Pashley, our eloquent President Pashley 41 — Please to observe the effect of a skilfully cooked repetition, Copied from Homer and Clough and a host of hexameter heroes ; Nor will we trouble our readers with all the parti- culars, — pictures. Writings on walls and the like : but this we will say, that Sir Walter, G. P. R. James and Lord Lytton must yield him the palm in description. \\Tien he described how a skeleton dove had been found at Pompeii, Found on a skeleton egg, we all of us wept in a chorus. When he had done, and the weepers had wept, and the stamping was over, Pashley arose, and he made some remarks in the usual fashion ; " This was an excellent paper, he seldom had heard such a good one, "Yet there was one little thing he should like to make just one remark on, " One little point where he did not agree with the reader's opinion, " One little question on which Mr Smith should have scarcely been silent " : Several more little points, and several more little questions, 42 Several more little things and so on and so on and so on ; Not that I wish to deny that his speech was ex- ceedingly clever, Or that we all of us paid him the greatest and deepest attention. He was immediately followed by Tatham (N.B. to the printer ; Do not omit to put all proper names in capital letters, Partly because it looks well and smacks of the penny-a-liner. Partly to comfort our friends when we cannot afford them a Mr) : Much information he gave concerning a building he'd heard of. Five were its doors and its size 250 x 80. Jones was the next to arise; and he made us a crushing oration. Crushing, but pointless withal, like a seventy-ton steam hammer, (Study that last line well, observe the onomatopoeia), Crushed Mr Smith with a hint that he had not neglected his Bulwer. Then Mr Wayte held forth, and his eloquence vied with his learning ; Oh for the tongue, or the pen or the pencil or something of some one, 43 Some one of fame, who was known from his youth as a friend of the Muses, Then I might try to depict what was really the speech of the evening. Now it is useless to try : we will only repeat his suggestion ; — If to Pompeii you go, be sure that you go on a Sunday. Last Mr Shuckburgh spoke, and his speech was extremely delightful, Touching on books and the like : we wish we had time to report it, Etonian, i6 December, 1875. S. 44 VIII. Of IV. S. (Sir). The Hundred Yards Race. You ask me for a prophecy About the hundred: I reply That man can do no more than try; And so commence and cast about To find the lucky athletes out. The goddess of the football field Some valuable hints may yield: Inured to grisly war's alarms : She knows of many a feat of arms, Full many a tale has she to tell Of those who nobly fight and well : 'Twas hers to sing the artful J., Whose progress nothing could delay : 'Twas hers to sing Hunt's reckless rush Through flooded fields and slimy slush, The while with gentle words he tried To win like prowess from his side. These, and a host of such as they, She sings no longer, sad to say: But champions still remain Who furnish many a glorious theme Until the past doth almost seem To live in them again. 45 For now the warlike goddess sings, Obedient to my questionings, Of Douglas's unrivalled grace, Of Elliot foremost in the race, And Stephen's more majestic pace : Of Chitty's meteoric flight, And Anderson as swift as light ; Hawke's rapid swoop upon the ball, Wellesley who never tires at all ^\^late'er of toil betide : Macaulay's oft repeated bound. Swift Bayley's feet that shun the ground, The Professorial stride : Of Bryan Farrer fast as strong. Of Lawrence' limbs so hthe and long, Of Booth's wild gallop in the van. She sings the deathless praise : How stoutly Polhill-Turner ran, How Spring-Rice flashed across the field, How Peirse was never known to yield, She tells in stirring lays : She tells in frightened periods How Ridley's steps disturbed the infernal gods. But hold ! my muse is running wild On this too stirring theme : It was her weakness from a child; Excuse it, gentle reader, pray, Now from her eyes I dare to say Prophetic flashes gleam. 5-2 46 Put not, rash man, thy hopes in all Who can pursue the flying ball : Not all of these shall dare to run When fate reserves the prize for one: Or if it shall most kindly be Can never favour more than three. Not all that I have named shall strive The deadly struggle to survive: Smith may despise all worldly pelf, Start others but not start himself j And Chitty may be turned reporter In Hundred, hurdle race and Quarter, And with his note-book scour the plain With Chronicle upon the brain. Yet some will start : and now we reach The wisdom I design to teach : My task I quickly will dispose of, There are but three your prophet knows of Who may be safely backed for places In this, the shortest of the races, Macaulay, Lawrence, Elliot these Are they : the order if you please I'll leave to you, and so remain Yours truly, till we meet again, Poeta Eton€7isis qui Stipendium meret Chronicli. Eton College Chronicle, November, 1877. 47 IX. Of JV. S. {Mr). For Greek Iambics. Pe. Not so, my liege, for even now the town Splits with sedition, and the incensed mob Rush hither roaring. 0/c. Let them roar their fill, Bluster and bellow till the enormous wrings Of gusty Boreas flap with less ado. Ask they my treacherous nephew's wretched life, As if that order were a thing of nought Which I did publish ? Let them beg or threaten, I'll not regard them. Oh my trusty friend. There is no rock defies the elements. With half the constancy that kinglike men Shut up their breasts against such routs as these. Pe. O my most valiant lord, I feel 'tis so. Permit me to advance against the foe. {picis and Terranea, Act iv. , Sc. iii.) Eton Rambler, July, i8So. 48 X. 'OMHPOY. The Hurdles and Quarter of a Mile. Eis Nortov XeL/xwva Oeaa-ojxevoL Trore PaKOvs yXOov 'ErcDvatot p.era SwSe/ca • Trpwros iv avrois Tpr]LOS rjv Tpev(j>iXXo<;, os rjv Bwrwi/ KaTTTaivos, 6avfxa(TT0'i KaTTTTW, Kai /i.r;v ttoXv (fiiprepo'; aXXcuv. Tov Trepteo'TTycrav crw rots Kavecrcri SveXXoi, ap;>(0VTes hrjjxov, K-qiropSepeaovTi'; ofxiXov. ivTav6' ^v 'XfJ.i-Oev?, ^oiXiO-Tijpwv (xkv aptCTTOS, (3e\.TiaT0<; t dvSpcov Sy](3aTovvToiv ivl JIoTnr(o. avrap KoXXeyepcov 'rjpX'^^ 2/xt^£i)s T€ p.ey(o--os, Kttt /Aero. TOvSe Ma/cavAeio? Bptavos 2T€ t AvBrjpawi'rj'S. AoSSatcov yjpx^^ fJi€Ta SatSaXeottrt KvXwpcri, AovyXacrtoto /Jt?^ Kai Kup^oi'eijs flpartop, Kat Trapa KTjTcrXai'Oto Traprjv 2av8atp,av iviopfio^, KaXcjbepros re juaKpos ^TjairSos air Atvyepos auAwv. T(3v Ka/A7;povtwv iypxov SrvSoeis KpiKer^poi, 'EXXiott;? tcov Mi;c>7X(3v crui' Iliypo-t TToStoKei. "Ap^io? 'AXaiwv ■^px^i' napx»7po5* 6/aov S 'Ys 'PiSXet05 (Tvv BatXetco p.eTa rpeiov cttovto AaXro'i'tSes. MtXXei; cttji/ PXa^Ki Soyaous 'laKwjSov 'ApTovpou XtTTOv, ots Kai novaovySaios eraipos. 49 ToutrSe fiev 'Aprovpos, Trapa. KrjKrjov S' 'la/coj^ou AauA.€vs Kal FptSAcvs Kai, /atJi/ 'AptaSAos eTrovro. ToiovTOt Travres kciA/awo-t w/\(rxvAtos oxAos CIS NoTtov Aet/xwi'a ttoo-iv paTrtSots cc^epovro oVop.evot 'PaKOUs tat xa/*7riovas x'^PO'^'''''^^. IrveTre Movcra to-ous tcIjv vikw'i'twi' evi 'Pa/cotS, ovx 'EKarov — crfiiKpov 'Paxov a-jJUKpotaL Trpo(f>r]Tai<;, YLopripov {ipSuAtcJV re ere Set p.ot ri-rnvta. oouvai. tS xci^£7''o»' X"^^*^^^ AovpevT-f] ecrcreTat ovrpdv iv <^AaTTa) 'PoKoi SoAtxocTKtov • 'EAAto'rijs §€ ov iroAv o-AwioJj', -^ Ktti (^ao-TecTTepos tcrrai. qhi TptVo9 iNIiAAeis lo-rat, cTKOvAAorcnv apicrros, tJc MaKavAeios ({iL\o(f>r]XSr]s kol (^tAoTet'x^s. KopTepos etprjTaL' vvv vpSuAtous SrjCTKpipw. TrpwTOs t' 'EAAtoTTjs, T7po)s t' Oue'AAcrAtos eo-rat SevTcpos, rJSe TpiVos, SoAtxocrKtos w Aovpevrfj, €1 /ii) vTTTpic^Oii'i Tots i;p8i;Atotcr6, yevrjcrei. dAAo, XpoviKAetous tri; /i.ei/ 'H Strop Tro\vTX-!]ixov, TpeaTTciaaeiv iv craiai <^aAva/3aAato"i KoAvyxvats <^aiVo/xttt drAeyy^ws, kAcu-os Trep tojv Troi-qTr]';. TotaSr' ouv AetVoj 'PT/Sr/pots tJSc KptTi^iv, 'Y/xeVepo's tc yueVw cnyKrjpw? Fwcttos Opjrjpov. Eton College Chronicle, November, 1877. A^^/^. The heroes referred to in this poem are : Grenville Grey (Dalton's). Smith, Macaulay, Bryan Farrer, Stephen, Burrows, Wellesley, Hawkins, Spring Rice (A'. 5.). Chitty, Croft, Joseph Anderson (Evans's). Lawrence (Luxmoore's), 50 Douglas, Curzon { Wolley Dod^s). Sandeman, Calvert, G. B. Studd, C. T. Studd {Cameron's), Elliott, Beresford Peine {Mitchell's). Parker {Hale's). Ridley (Pig), Bailey {Daltofis). Mills, Harvey (Owl), Ponsonby {Arthur James's) Lawley, Gridley, Henry Hall (C. C. Jatnes's). THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY, ERRORS OF JUDGMENT, IMPROMPTUS, &c. JO To W. H.* AVhat are the habits of the ruby flood We reek with ? man had questioned many a year : And William Harvey spoke in accents clear These words : " the circulation of the blood." Man owned that this was so, and asked for food; And fate bestowed upon him beef and beer : But beef was coarse, indelicate and sere : So Harvey proffered Sauce and made it good. My friend ! be worthy of thy forbears' glory, And if old truths thou canst not rediscover. Yet canst thou live those truths out here on earth : Make stagnant conversations, void of mirth, To circulate with quip and crank and story. Make life's dull dish with piquant sauce run over. * These lines were addressed to the author's friend Mr William Harvey, of King's College. Ed. 54 4th July, 1882, Malines. Midnight. Belgian, with cumbrous tread and iron boots. Who in the murky middle of the night, Designing to renew the foul pursuits In which thy life is passed, ill-favoured wight, And wishing on the platform to alight Where thou couldst mingle with thy fellow brutes. Didst walk the carriage floor (a leprous sight), As o'er the sky some baleful meteor shoots : Upon my slippered foot thou didst descend. Didst rouse me from my slumbers mad with pain. And laughedst loud for several minutes' space. Oh may'st thou suffer tortures without end : May fiends with glowing pincers rend thy brain, And beetles batten on thy blackened face ! 55 Ballade of the Drowning Fusee. The pipe I intend to consume Is full, and fairly alight : It scatters a fragrant perfume, Blue smoke-wreaths are heaving in sight I sink on the heathery height, And lo ! there is borne unto me From a sweet little stream on my right The song of the drowning fusee. The monarch of waterfowl, whom On the brink of an infinite night A strange irresistible doom Converts to a musical wight, Is akin, in his glory's despite, To a moribund matcfh, as we see, While we listen, in speechless delight, To the song of the drowning fusee. 56 As he sinks in his watery tomb, His epitaph let me indite. He hardly took up any room ; His life was retired ; his end bright. With destiny no one can fight All poets and prosers agree, And a tribute to destiny's might Is the song of the drowning fusee. Friend ! would you be gratified quite The first of our poets to be? If so, I advise you to write The song of the drowning fusee. Reflector, January, 1888. 57 The Ballade of the Incompetent Ballade-Monger. I am not ambitious at all : I am not a poet, I know (Though I do love to see a mere scrawl To order and symmetry grow). My muse is uncertain and slow, I am not expert with my tools, I lack the poetic argot: But I hope I have kept to the rules. When your brain is undoubtedly small, 'Tis hard, sir, to write in a row. Some five or six rhymes to Nepaul, And more than a dozen to Joe : The metre is easier though. Three rhymes are sufficient for ' ghouls,' My lines are deficient in go. But I hope I have kept to the rules. 58 Unable to fly let me crawl, Your patronage kindly bestow: I am not the author of Saul, I am not Voltaire or Rousseau : I am not desirous, oh no ! To rise from the ranks of the fools, To shine with Gosse, Dobson and Co. But I hope I have kept to the rules. Dear Sir, though my language is low, Let me dip in Pierian pools : My verses are only so so, But I hope I have kept to the rules. Reflector, February, i 59 Triolets Ollendorfiens. Je suis le frere Du bon cocher : Ou est sa mere ? Je suis le frere. Tu es le pere Du jardinier : Je suis le fr^re Du bon cocher. Oil est mon canif? J'ai perdu ma chatte. Je veux du rosbif. Ou est mon canif? J'ai tue le Juif. Faut-il qu'on se batte? Ou est mon canif? J'ai perdu ma chatt?. La belle cousine Du fils de ma bru Vit dans ma cuisine, La belle cousine ! Ta laide voisine N'a jamais connu La belle cousine Du fils de ma bru. Rtflector, February, 1888. s. 6 6o To D. J. S. Written on the Fly-Leaf of Treasure Island BY A " Hesitating Purchaser." It sounds magnificent : but then Perhaps I am a little old, To buy a tale of lawless men, Who scuttle ships and bury gold. Yet still I love a pirate crew, Still dote upon a buccaneer; I'll buy the book, and read it through, And pass it on to you, my dear. 1883. 6i 2. Written on the Fly-Leaf of Maclise's Portrait Gallery, Edited by Bates. Here, painted by a Master's hand, Is many a lovely dame. Amidst the writers of the land Who gained the greatest fame. But sure there is not one whose pen Was half so apt as thine To catch the ears of listening men, Or wake the Sacred Nine. None saw reflected in her glass A more distinguished face : But thou art born too late, alas ! To take thy proper place. The pencil of Maclise, my dear, Thy face will ne'er portray, Nor will the facts of thy career Be told by Bates, B.A. Yet do not hence a pretext seize To blame the cruel Fates : If they denied thee to Maclise, They rescued thee from Bates. Reflector, February, i888. 6—2 62 The Philosopher and the Philanthropist. Searching an infinite Where, Probing a bottomless When, Dreamfully wandering, Ceaselessly pondering, What is the Wherefore of men: Bartering life for a There, Selling his soul for a Then, Baffling obscurity, Conning futurity, Usefulest, wisest of men ! Grasping the Present of Life, Seizing a definite Now, Labouring thornfully. Banishing scornfully Doubts of his Whither and How: Spending his substance in Strife, Working a practical How, Letting obscurity Rest on futurity, Usefuler, wiser, I trow. Out of School at Eton, 1877. 63 To A Friend. Whene'er I wander through the well-known fields, Or guide my boat down the familiar stream, And taste the joys which recollection yields. When youth's delights are but a fading dream, Where Windsor's keep his hoary head doth lift, I'll think upon your gift. And when you have occasion to refer To Mr Browning's justly famous verses, A thing which may from time to time occur, To save one's giving vent to tears and curses, (Although you may not catch the poet's drift) You'll think upon my gift February, 1891. 64 A Thought. If all the harm that women have done Were put in a bundle and rolled into one, Earth would not hold it, The sky could not enfold it. It could not be lighted nor warmed by the sun; Such masses of evil Would puzzle the devil And keep him in fuel while Time's wheels run. But if all the harm that's been done by men Were doubled and doubled and doubled again, And melted and fused into vapour and then Were squared and raised to the power of ten. There wouldn't be nearly enough, not near. To keep a small girl for the tenth of a year. Crania, February, 1891. 65 Lines at the River-Side. Shnving how the Poet was unfortunately disappomted of a most Tragic Thane. 'Tis but a work of the loom, 'Tis but a shawl on the grass, "Tis but a remnant, alas ! Remnant of what and of whom? Surely some victim of woe Left it to bleach on the brink, Left it to plunge and to sink Under the waters below. Doubt, hesitation and fear, Madness, delusion, despair, All of them culminate there, There by the swift rushing weir. Was it a husband she fled, Drunken, of reason bereft? Was it a child that she left Peaceful and pale in its bed ? Rash was the folly, I trow. Vice got the best of the strife. One little moment of life ! What would she give for it now ? Ha ! what has shattered it all ? How is my muse disarrayed ? Only a nursery maid Come back to look for her shawl. 1873. 66 "Facilis Descensus Averni." When I was new and all unspoiled, O how I loved examinations ! With what unflagging zeal I toiled ! With what incessant labour soiled My books ! how high my spirit boiled ! Till — notwithstanding regulations — At times the surreptitious oil 'd Assist my midnight lucubrations : And how my very soul recoiled At any thought of being foiled By other people's machinations. Thus, thus the unsuspecting youth Sets forth upon the task of life, His zeal for seeking abstract truth Is sharpened by his love of strife; High rise his hopes — his earliest half Gleig's Wellington in yellow calf, And Creasy's Battles, side by side, Excite his own, his parents' pride. But hopes are vain, pride hollow : The sequel of my tale abide, And mark what needs must follow. ^7 So hard on one another's heels The bHthe examinations troop, That soon the young enthusiast feels Like flowers do that droop, and droop — And then a tempest of despair Sweeps over him : his only care Is now to find some brilliant, rare, And quite unprecedented blunders, To clear the dull scholastic air, And startle Academic thunders. Then comes the melancholy, vain, And hopeless struggle to regain His old unsuUied reputation : Abortive efforts to attain Impossible regeneration : And, when the last collapse is plain, No earthly solace doth remain. Except to launch an imprecation That only is not quite profane Against the author of his pain. Who brings all evils in his train, The friend of sloth, ambition's bane. The master fiend. Examination. Eton Rambler, May i8th, 1880. 68 Early School. If there is a vile, pernicious, Wicked and degraded rule, Tending to debase the vicious, And corrupt the harmless fool ; If there is a hateful habit Making man a senseless tool, With the feelings of a rabbit. And the wisdom of a mule : It's the rule which inculcates. It's the habit which dictates, The wrong and sinful practice of going into school. If there's anything improving To an erring sinner's state. Which is useful in removing All the ills of human fate : If there's any glorious custom Which our faults can dissipate. And can casually thrust 'em Out of sight, and make us great: It's the plan by which we shirk Half our matutinal work, The glorious institution of always being late. Out of School ai Eton, 1877. 69 An Election Address. (To Cambridge University, 18S2.) I venture to suggest that I Am rather noticeably fit To hold the seat illumined by The names of Palmerston and Pitt. My principles are such as you Have often heard expressed before : They are, without exception, true; And who can say, with candour, more? My views concerning Church and State Are such as Bishops have professed : I need not recapitulate The arguments on which they rest. Respecting Ireland, I opine That Ministers are in a mess, That Landlords rule by Right Divine, That Firmness will remove Distress. I see with horror undisguised That freedom of debate is dead : The Liberals are organised : The Caucus rears its hideous head. Yet need'st thou, England, not despair At Chamberlain's or Gladstone's pride, While Henry Cecil Raikes is there To organise the other side. 70 I never quit, as others do, Political intrigue, to seek The dingy literary crew, Or hear the voice of science speak- But I have fostered, guided, planned Commercial enterprise : in me Some ten or twelve directors and Six worthy chairmen you may see. My academical career Was free from any sort of blot : I challenge anybody here To demonstrate that it was not. At classics too I worked amain, Whereby I did not only pass, But even managed to obtain A very decent second class. And since those early days, the same Success has crowned the self-same plan; Profundity I cannot claim : Respectability I can. Pall Mall Gazette, November, 1882. 71 Written for friends at Lyndhurst, in response TO A request for "A POEM OR SENTIMENT" TO BE INSCRIBED IN A "VISITORS' BoOK," 1882. "What! leave so soon the happy scene Of sylvan pleasures fresh and rare, And hosts whose kindly deeds have been Fit drama for a stage so fair? "Not see again, with upturned eye, In pleasant pause from pleasant whims, The cool abyss of summer sky Where Kemach * steeps his sunny limbs ? "Not hear again the fairy notes Borne towards us on the evening breeze, And wonder if a dryad floats Between the stems of listening trees ? " Return, to pass prosaic days In treeless flats; to set before A doting dullard's dreamy gaze The gloomiest facts in Clio's store? "Three days, you tell me, since I came? And gone like minutes ! — Be it so. My mind is steadfast, all the same, I cannot and I will not go." 'T was thus the wise umbrella sang; And on the peg behind my door It swore an oath that it would hang Forever and forevermore. • "Kemach" was a name given to a particular tree in the forest. 72 Written in the "Visitors' Book" at the Pen-y-gwryd Hotel, about 1880. Within the bounds of this Hotel, Which bears the name of Pen-y-gwryd, A black and yellow hound doth dwell, By which my friend and I were worried. Our object is not to imply That he assaulted, bit, or tore us; In fact he never ventured nigh Except when food was set before us. But when the scent of ham and eggs Announced the breakage of our fast, He came and twined about our legs, And interrupted our repast. We drove him from us through the door; He reappeared; we tried the casement; He seemed to rise out of the floor, And importuned us as before, To our unspeakable amazement. But timely succour Fortune brought us; One word of Welsh we chanced to know, And that a fellow-guest had taught us; It meant "Unpleasant creature, go!" Stranger ! If you should chance to meet him, Oh do not pull, or kick, or push, Or execrate, or bribe, or beat him, But make a sound resembling "Cwsh"! NOVI LAPSUS APRIL— JUNE, 1 89 1. DE LAPSIBUS PRIORIBUS. 77 TWO ROUNDELS. I. The Poet's Prayer. To buy my book — if you will be so kind — Is all I ask of you; and not to look What fruit lies hid beneath the azure rind: To buy my book. This for her hymn-book Rosalind mistook, When worshipping with yokel, maid, and hind; Neaera read it in a flowery nook. And gave her loose curls to the wanton wind. For this her grammar Sylvia once forsook, Of you I only ask — you will not mind? — To buy my book. Cambridge Ranew, June, 1891. ;— 2 78 2. To AN Indiscreet Critic As J. K. S. I made my bid for fame And money, which is sweeter than success, Though Mr • -— is possibly the same as J. K. S. Was it perhaps an error of the press ? Is some mahgn compositor to blame? Or was it just the reader's carelessness? Or your astute revietver's little game, — His lapsus calatni as I should guess ? In any case I wish to sign my name as J. K. S. Globe, April, 1891. 79 FROM THREE FLY LEAVES. I. To P. L., AGED 4^. Ah Phyllis ! did I only dare To hope that, as the years go by, And you, a maid divinely fair, The cynosure of every eye, Have fixed the wandering minds of men. And found a fare for scores of hearses. You still will open, now and then, My little book of verses; Or did I, bolder yet, aspire To hope that any phrase of mine, Aglow with memory's cheering fire Will bum within that heart of thine; Although my brow be bare of bays, My coffers not replete with gain, I shall not — what's the foolish phrase? — Have written quite in vain. May, 1 89 1. So 2. To B. C. J'esp^re bien vous trouver toute prete A recevoir mes Lapsus Calami ; Si ce n'est pas I'ouvrage d'un poete Prenez au moins Thommage d'un ami. June, 1891. 3. To R. C. B. Optime lectorum, necnon praeclare poeta, Hos vacuos versus scripsit arnica manus : Musa mea est, fateor, laudum* vix digna tuarum, Sed mea digna tuae laudis amicitia est. June, 1891. For this unusual genitive cp. Ov. Trist. iv. 3. 57. THE RETORT COURTEOUS. I. ENGLAND AND AMERICA. I. On a Rhine Steamer. Republic of the West, Enlightened, free, sublime. Unquestionably best Production of our time. The telephone is thine, And thine the Pullman Car, The caucus, the divine Intense electric star. To thee we likewise owe The venerable names Of Edgar Allan Poe, And Mr Henry James. In short it's due to thee, Thou kind of Western star, That we have come to be Precisely what we are. 84 But every now and then. It cannot ht denied, You breed a kind of men Who are not dignified, Or courteous or refined, Benevolent or wise, Or gifted with a mind Beyond the common size, Or notable for tact. Agreeable to me, Or anything, in fact, That people ought to be. 85 2. On a Parisian Boulevard. Britannia rules the waves, As I have heard her say; She frees whatever slaves She meets upon her way. A teeming mother she Of Parliaments and Lawsj Majestic, mighty, free : Devoid of common flaws. For her did Shakspere write His admirable plays : For her did Nelson fight And Wolseley win his bays. Her sturdy common sense Is based on solid grounds : By saving numerous pence She spends effective pounds. The Saxon and the Celt She equitably rules ; Her iron rod is felt By countless knaves and fools. 86 In fact, mankind at large, Black, yellow, white and red, Is given to her in charge, And owns her as a head. But every here and there — Deny it if you can — She breeds a vacant stare Unworthy of a man : A look of dull surprise; A nerveless idle hand : An eye which never tries To threaten or command : In short, a kind of man. If man indeed he be, As worthy of our ban As any that we see: Unspeakably obtuse, Abominably vain, Of very Uttle use. And execrably plain. ^7 11. MEN -\ND WOMEN. I. In the Backs. As I was strolling lonely in the Backs, I met a woman whom I did not like. I did not like the way the woman walked: Lx)ose-hipped, big-boned, disjointed, angular. If her anatomy comprised a waist, I did not notice it : she had a face With eyes and Hps adjusted thereunto, But round her mouth no pleasing shadows stirred. Nor did her eyes invite a second glance. Her dress was absolutely colourless, Devoid of taste or shape or character; Her boots were rather old, and rather large, And rather shabby, not precisely matched. Her hair was very far from beautiful And not abundant : she had such a hat As neither merits nor expects remark. She was not clever, I am very sure, 88 Nor witty nor amusing : well-informed She may have been, and kind, perhaps, of heart; But gossip was writ plain upon her face. And so she stalked her dull unthinking wayj Or, if she thought of anything, it was That such a one had got a second class, Or Mrs So-and-So a second child. I do not want to see that girl again : I did not like her: and I should not mind If she were done away with, killed, or ploughed. She did not seem to serve a useful end : And certainly she was not beautiful. Cambridg& Review, February, 1891. 89 2. On the King's Parade. As I was waiting for the tardy tram, I met what purported to be a man. What seemed to pass for its material frame, The semblance of a suit of clothes had on, Fit emblem of the grand sartorial art And worthy of a more sublime abode. Its coat and waistcoat were of weird design Adapted to the fashion's latest whim. I think it wore an Athenaeum tie. White flannels draped its too ethereal limbs And in its vacant eye there glared a glass. In vain for this poor derelict of flesh, Void of the spirit it was built to house, Have classic poets tuned their deathless lyre, Astute historians fingered moulderinif sheets And reared a palace of sententious truth. In vain has y been added unto .r, 90 In vain the mighty decimal unrolled, Which strives indefinitely to be tt. In vain the palpitating frog has groaned Beneath the licensed knife : in vain for this The surreptitious corpse been disinterred And forced, amid the disinfectant fumes. To yield its secrets to philosophy. In vain the stress and storm of politics Beat round this empty head : in vain the priest Pronounces loud anathemas : the fool In vain remarks upon the fact that God Is missing in the world of his belief. Vain are the problems whether space, or time, Or force, or matter can be said to be : Vain are the mysteries of Melchisedec, And vain Methuselah's unusual years. It had a landlady I make no doubt j A friend or two as vacant as itself; A kitchen-bill; a thousand cigarettes; A dog which knew it for the fool it was. Perhaps it was a member of the Union, Who votes as often as he does not speak, And "recommends" as wildly as he spells. Its income was as much beyond its merits As less than its inane expenditure. Its conversation stood to common sense As stands the Sporting Times (its favourite print) To wit or humour. It was seldom drunk, But seldom sober when it went to bed. 91 The mean contents of these superior clothes Were they but duly trained by careful hands, And castigated with remorseless zeal, Endowed with purpose, gifted with a mind, And taught to work, or play, or talk, or laugh. Might possibly aspire — I do not know — To pass, in time, for what they dare to scorn, An ordinary undergraduate. ^Vhat did this thing crawling 'twixt heaven and earth, Amid the network of our grimy streets? What end was it intended to subserve, What lowly mission fashioned to neglect? It did not seem to wish for a degree. And what its object was I do not know^ Unless it was to catch the tardy tram. Granta, June, 1891. s. 8 RESCUED FROM THE WASTE PAPER BASKET. 8—2 95 Parker's Piece, May ig, 1891. To see good Tennis ! what diviner joy Can fill our leisure, or our minds employ? Not Sylvia^ s self is more supremely fair, Than balls that hurtle through the conscious air. Not Stella^s form instinct with truer grace Than Lamberfs racket poised to win the chase. Not Chlois harp more native to the ear, Than the tense strings which smite the flying sphere. When Lambert boasts the superhuman force, Or splits the echoing grille without remorse : When Harradine, as graceful as of yore, Wins better than a yard, upon the floor ; When Alfred's ringing cheer proclaims success, Or Saunders volleys in resistlessness ; When Heathcote' s service makes the dedafis ring With just applause, and own its honoured king; "When Pettitfs prowess all our zeal awoke Till high Olympus shuddered at the stroke; Or, when, receiving thirty and the floor, The novice serves a dozen faults or more \ 96 Or some plump don, perspiring and profane, Assails the roof and breaks the exalted pane; When vantage, five games all, the door is called, And Europe pauses, breathless and appalled. Till lo! the ball by cunning hand caressed Finds in the winning gallery a nest ; These are the moments, this the bliss supreme. Which makes the artist's joy, the poet's dream. Let cricketers await the tardy sun. Break one another's shins and call it fun; Let Scotia's golfers through the affrighted land With crooked knee and glaring eye-ball stand; Let football rowdies show their straining thews. And tell their triumphs to a mud-stained Muse; Let india-rubber pellets dance on grass Where female arts the ruder sex surpass; Let other people play at other things; The king of games is still the game of kings. Cambridge Review, May, 1891. 97 The Street Organs Bill, 1891. Grinder, who serenely grindest, As thou groundest ages back, Till thou ultimately findest Legislators on thy track : Grinder, there is one Jacoby, There is Lubbock, prince of Barts, Sternest of Professors : oh be- Ware of his infernal arts. Guyer Hunter backed it bravely^ Backed the Bart's oppressive bill: So did he whose name is Staveley, And whose other name is Hill. If they pass their cruel measure, If the House is true to them, You must never give us pleasure, Grinder, after 8 p.m. 98. When the dawn with rosy finger, Dissipates the eastern gloom, You and your machine must Hnger Silent in your silent room. Grinder, if you are not willing, When invited, to desist, You must pay your fortieth shilling. Wretched instrumentalist ! Failing that, — a fate unkinder — You must languish in a gaol One laborious fortnight : grinder. Pray, oh pray that they may fail. Fall Mall Gazette, April, 1891. 99 Ode on the 450TH Anniversary Celebration AT Eton. Think of a number : double it (If that does not surpass thy wit) ; Subtract a dozen : add a score : Divide by twenty : multiply By twice the cube of x+j, And half again as many more : Then take the twenty-seventh root And logarithmic sine to boot, And if the answer' does not show Just nine times fifty, make it so. There's something more than half divine In fifty multiplied by nine: And never integer has been So grand as thirty times fifteen : The total I could doubtless praise In many other striking ways : But this at least is very plain, — The same will never come again. 100 Then make an exhibition please And summon guests from far and wide : And marry mystic melodies To odes instinct with proper pride. Invoke the Founder's mighty name, And boast of Gray's and Shelley's fame: For this is very sure : that we Who missed the latest jubilee Shall not improbably be vexed By missing equally the next. Then let us resolutely strive This mighty fact to keep alive That 5 times 9 is 45 ; And furthermore the truth to fix (In their behoof whose course will run In June of 1981) That 54 is 9 times 6. Graftta, June, 1891. lOI Steam-Launches on the Thames. Henley, yiaie 7, 1891. Shall we, to whom the stream by right belongs, Who travel silent, save, perchance, for songs ; Whose track's a ripple, — leaves the Thames a lake. Nor frights the swan — scarce makes the rushes shake; Who harmonize, exemplify, complete And vivify a scene already sweet : Who travel careless on, from lock to lock, Oblivious that the world contains a clock, With pace commensurate to our desires, Propelled by other force than Stygian fire's \ Shall we be driven hence to leave a place For these, who bring upon our stream disgrace : The rush, the roar, the stench, the smoke, the steam, The nightmare striking through our heavenly dream; The scream as shrill and hateful to the ear As when a peacock vents his rage and fear; Which churn to fury all a glassy reach, And heave rude breakers on a pebbly beach : Which half o'erwhelm with waves our frailer craft. While graceless shop-boys chuckle fore and aft : Foul water-toadstools, noisome filth-stained shapes. Fit only to be manned by dogs and apes : Blots upon nature : scars that mar her smile : Obscene, obtrusive, execrable, vile? Pall Mall Gazette., June, 1891. 102 To B. H. H, {On his travels). And will thy travels never end? And wilt thou not return, my friend? Shall Piccadilly never more, Amid the busses' daily roar, Where prowls the Baron's stately goat, Thy philosophic footfall note? Nor ever will the Savile's board The dainties of the hour afford To one grave form amid the Babel Which girds that lofty-minded table? Come : for we miss thee. That slow smile Has failed us now too long a while : That network of ingenious phrase Suggesting more than what it says : The literary epigram Which gracefully unmasks a sham, Or else awards judicious praise To one who earns but wears not bays, Are lacking in our midst, and we Drift, rudderless, about a sea Of conversation unadorned By him whose absence long we've mourned. 10- Come : for / need you : more or less Because I love to play at chess ; Partly because I want to know Your views about a book or so, Which I have published, or intend To publish : most of all, my friend, Because I found thy converse sweet, Thy fellowship a joy complete, And life is short and art is long, And still the absent suffer wrong. I know not where thy footsteps stray, Nor what the ordering of thy day : If now thy graceful shallop slips Amid the gorgeous Eastern ships. Where some vast river makes a lane Across the forest-hidden plain : If, stretched upon a soft divan, You lounge, as orientals can. And trace the rings of fragrant smoke One graceful moment soar unbroke; ^Vhile, lo, the wordless Kitmagar Presents the welcome waterjar. And swart Chuprassis stand at ease. Beneath umbrageous banyan trees : If now perchance the crescent moon Hangs high, at night's reposetul noon. Against a gloomy purple sky. Star-studded in its majesty. While slow you walk alone, and deep In thoughts that bring more rest than sleep. 104 Come, anyhow : if not to find An occupation to thy mind, Nor yet a Fortunatus' purse, Nor any cure for any curse : Come, talk, live, marry, work, write, sing; Be eloquent on anything : Be active in whatever line : And if a sun less splendid shine. And vegetation less profuse. And persons worthier of abuse. Are found with us than now with you ; Still, though our merits may be few, We are at least thy friends of youth, Thy fellow-seekers after truth, Thy fellow-talkers, fellow-bards, Thy fellows still in all regards; So turn again towards the West, And grasp their hands who love you best. Trident, June, 1891. 105 A Parodist's Apology. If I've dared to laugh at you, Robert Browning, 'Tis with eyes that with you have often wept: You have oftener left me smiling or frowning, Than any beside, one bard except. But once you spoke to me, storm-tongued poet, A trivial word in an idle hour; But thrice I looked on your face and the glow it Bore from the flame of the inward power. But you'd many a friend you never knew of, Your words lie hid in a hundred hearts, And thousands of hands that you've grasped but few of Would be raised to shield you from slander's darts. For you lived in the sight of the land that owned you. You faced the trial, and stood the test : They have piled you a cairn that would fain have stoned you : You have spoken your message and earned your rest. Pall Mall Gazette, June, 1891. io6 A Sonnet. Two voices are there : one is of the deep ; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony. And indicates that two and one are three, That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep : And, Wordsworth, both are thine : at certain times Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes. The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst : At other times — good Lord ! I'd rather be Quite unacquainted with the A. B. C. Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst. Granta, June, 1891. I07 To A Lady. A pipe's a merry madrigal, A stately sonnet a cigar, The homely clay at close of day A stanza to the evening star. The cigarette a canzonette Both amorous and musical. But as the song requires an air, A madrigal must aptly rhyme, A sonnet shines in measured Unes, Each foot must walk in proper time, And music's aid is best displayed When duly matched with verses fair: So sweetest meerschaum needs a case. Cigars are clipped with dainty blade. The seasoned briar wall still aspire To lights in silvern casket laid. The cigarette is duly set In holder rich with every grace. And every cigarette consumed Is fragrant homage offered thee; The mellow streak, from week to week. Embrowns thy gift bestowed on me : — So every hour proclaims the power Of her whose gift the smoke perfumed. June 27, 1891. S. 9 io8 Regrets. A Roundel. You would not hear me speak; you never knew, Will never know, the eloquence unique It was my purpose to bestow on you ; You would not hear me speak. Dear ! it was no caprice, or idle freak : Perhaps I did not even mean to woo : My meaning was not very far to seek : I might have gained the end I had in view; I might have failed, since words are often weakj It never can be settled now : adieu ! You would not hear me speak. Granta, June, iSgi. 109 June 19, 1891. All in a peaceful garden fair, One night in leafy June, There sat a wondrous lovely pair, And waited for the Moon, In silence, save where rustled by A Httle creeping breeze, ^Vhich swept the cobwebs from the sky, And scarcely stirred the trees. The one displayed in form and face To all and sundry comers The sweet accumulated grace Of twenty happy summers. The other, matronly and calm, Was most divinely fair. And each was stately as a palm, And each had pale gold hair. Between them, where a trailing bough Obscured the moonlight pale. Lounged a vast form with classic brow, Unquestionably male. There rose a mighty yellow Moon, Across the tree-tops peering Along the fleecy sky of June, Through which she'll soon be steerino: 9—2 no And when she saw each lovely maid She clapped her silver hands; "Such wondrous charms are rare" she said "In all sublunar lands. "But which is fairest?" long and loud She shouted to the stars, Which glittered in a golden crowd, Like newly lit cigars. Then from the zenith Vega slid, And red Aldebaran Rushed up the sky, as he was bid, To meet the stately Swan ; And many dozen more appeared. Till all the sky was bare, And round the Satellite careered. And vowed the scene was fair. Then spake the Moon : " I'm sore distressed ; " Two beauteous forms I see : "I can't say which I like the best: "Decide the point for me. " Such foolish puzzles, I declare, " I hold in much abhorrence : "Say if the lovelier of the pair "Be A or F ." Then peeping o'er each other's head, The striking scene to scan. The Stars unanimously said : — "We much prefer the Man." Ill To A. H. C. {In recollection of certain debates on the futility of Metaphysics.^ You taunt me as a shallow man : You mock my prosy middle age : Would demonstrate me, if you can, Devoid of youth's exalted rage Bound on a dusty pilgrimage. Because I do not much peruse The words that Schopenhauer penned; Locke's, Kant's and Hegel's lofty views I don't aspire to comprehend ; Because, in short, my worthy friend, I'm, like yourself, a man of prose : A man of commonplace belief. Who doubts, and disbelieves, and knows, And aims at joy, and flies from grief. And has a taste for beer and beef. You do us wrong : for you and I Are just as good as other men : A hand to write, a seeing eye, An ear which catches, now and then, The sounds that haunt a poet's pen : 112 I offer (you withhold them) thanks For these, and other common things : And not in vain on Cam's green banks We Hved at Trinity and King's, And loved to try our sprouting wings. A many-windowed house is life, And out of every window we, In intervals of daily strife. Look forth upon infinity : And that's the good of you and me. The joys of metaphysic trance, The midnight bliss of keen debate. The insight of a mystic's glance, Which charm the undergraduate, Are matched in our maturer state. The deeds and passions of our prime, Our studies of acknowledged truth. Our business — though it's not sublime, — Are just as excellent in sooth. As all the fervour lost with youth. The ruddy warmth of arduous toil, The spasm of triumphant strife, A friend to serve, a foe to foil, A cause with noble purpose rife. The love of her that gave thee life : The smile that shines through misty tears, The soft "delight of low repUes," 113 The after-glow of vanished fears, And all the excellent surprise That trembles in a woman's eyes : Men, women, children : speech and song : The artist's touch, the poet's thought : The pulses of a busy throng. The rest of spirits over-wrought : Are these — is all beside them, naught? Here, everywhere, and every day. The seeker finds right human stuff: To laugh, to weep, to work, to play; Are joy and sorrow not enough ? And cannot these content thee, Clough? June, 1 89 1. 114 To My Readers. I do not boast a poet's bays, Nor claim to wield a poet's pen, Nor do I hope for many days To buzz about the mouths of men. I claim to be the sort of man Who studies metrical effect : Whose verses generally scan : Whose rhymes are commonly correct; And when I chance upon a thought Which seems to shape itself in rhyme, I like to treat it as I ought, Unless the theme be too sublime. It may be pleasure to rehearse, When twilight deepens out of day, The tinkle of a tiny verse Which wiled the noon-tide hours away. It may be pleasure to recall The friends of yesterday to-morrow But that's a pleasure — if at all — Which borders very near on sorrow. 115 So, if I try to make you laugh, Or if I chance to make you weep, Your comrade when you crunch and quaff, Your solace when you cannot sleep ; It's merely as a common man Who says what other people say. And hopes to end as he began, A treader of the beaten way. June, 1 89 1. QUO MUSA TENDIS? TO M. R. S. Lapsus Calami. I played with pen and ink at times, Until upon my table grew A little heap of random rhymes : I got them printed, bound in blue, And sold for more than they were worth, To cause a moment's harmless mirth. My little book achieved success, And wandered up and down the land; A thousand copies more or less "Were sold and paid for; that was grand; And I was honestly surprised To be so kindly criticised. And when the little book was sold, I threw away the half of it ; And to the remnant of the old I tacked some new attempts at wit; To which I added here and there Some work prepared with greater care; 120 Some work in which I tried to shew That clowns can reason, jesters feel ; Nor need a scribbler lack the glow Of passion, or the fire of zeal Because his verse is fairly neat. And tries, at least, to be complete. And having managed to acquire A public (as a fool I speak), I thought to aim a little higher, A more substantial prize to seek; And now I mean to write a book Where men for fewer jests must look. Kind readers who have borne with me When I confessed ray school-boy rhymes, And bought what purported to be A jest-book, turning grave at times, I scarcely dare to hope that still You'll read me : but perhaps you will. And if you should insert me — Yes, You know the rest? upon the list Of lyric bards — I ask no less — My head, if not precisely kissed By stars, will wear at least a crown Preferred to that which decks the clown. NUGAE ETONENSES My Old School. There's a long low wall with trees behind it, And an old grey chapel behind the trees, Neath the shade of a royal keep you'll find it, Where Kings and Emperors take their ease There's another wall, with a field beside it, A wall not wholly unknown to fame; For a game's played there which most who've tried it Declare is a truly noble game. There's a great grey river that s\virls and eddies To the Bells of Ouseley from Boveney Weir, With willowy stumps where the river's bed is, And rippling shallows, and spaces clear. There's a cloistered garden and four quadrangles, And red brick buildings both old and new : There's a bell that tolls, and a clock that jangles. And a stretch of sky that is often blue. There's a street that's alive with boys and masters: And ah ! there's a feeling of home for me : For my boyhood's triumphs, delights, disasters, Successes and failures were here, you see. S. 10 124 And if sometimes I've laughed in my rhymes at Eton, Whose glory I never could jeopardise, Yet I'd never a joy that I could not sweeten, Or a sorrow I could not exorcise, By the thought of my school, and the brood that's bred there, Her bright boy faces, and keen young life : And the manly stress of the hours that sped there. And the stirring pulse of her daily strife. For, mark, when an old friend meets another Who have lived and remembered for years apart, And each is as true as to best-loved brother, And each has a faithful and tender heart ; Do they straight spread arms, and profess devotion. And exhibit the signs of a heartfelt joy? No ; but each stands steady, and scorns emotion. And each says : — How do you do, old boy ? And so, old school, if I lightly greet you. And have laughed at your foibles these fifteen years. It is just as a dear old friend I treat you. And the smile on my lips is a mask for tears ; And it is not a form of words, beHeve me, To say I am yours while my pulses beat, And whatever garlands the fates may weave me I'll lay right gladly at Eton's feet. 125 The Old School List*. In a wild moraine of forgotten books, On the glacier of years gone by, As I plied my rake for order's sake, There was one that caught my eye ; And I sat by the shelf till I lost myself, And roamed in a crowded mist. And heard lost voices and saw lost looks, As I pored on an old School List, ^Vhat a jumble of names ! there were some that I knew. As a brother is known : to-day Gone I know not where, nay I hardly care, For their places are full : and, they — What cHmes they have ranged: how much they're changed ! Time, place and pursuits assist In transforming them : stay where you are : adieu ! You are all in the old School List. * Suggested by accidentally finding an old copy of Stapylton's "Eton School Lists". lO — 2 126 There are some who did nothing at school, much since; And others much then, since naught : They are middle-aged men, grown bald since then : Some have travelled, and some have fought : And some have written, and some are bitten With strange new faiths : desist From tracking them : broker or priest or prince, They are all in the old School List. There's a grave grey lawyer in King's Bench Walk, Wliose chents are passing few : He seldom speaks : in those lonely weeks, What on earth can he find to do? Well, he stroked the eight — what a splendid fate ! — And the Newcastle barely missed : "A future Lord Chancellor!" so we'd talk In the days of the old School List. There were several duffers and several bores, Whose faces I've half forgot. Whom I lived among, when the world was young. And who talked " no end of rot " : Are they now little clerks who stroll in the Parks Or scribble with grimy fist. Or rich little peers who hire Scotch moors ? Well — they're all in the old School List. There were some who were certain to prosper and thrive, And certain to do no more, 127 'Who were "capital chaps," and, tho' moderate saps, Would never stay in after four : Now day after day they are packed away. After being connubially kissed, To work in the city from ten to five : There they are in the old School List. There were two good fellows I used to know, — How distant it all appears ! We played together in football weather, And messed together for years : Now one of them's wed, and the other's dead So long that he's hardly missed Save by us, who messed with him years ago ; But we're all in the old School List. PAULLO MAJORA CANAMUS A Remonstrance. Love is what lacks then : but what does it mean to you ? WTiere did you hear of it, feel it, or see? What has the truth, or the good of it been to you? How love some other, yet nohow love me? If there were any conspicuous fault in me, Any defect it were torture to bear, Low-lying levels, too deep to exalt, in me, Dread possibilities in me to fear : If I were ugly or old or untractable, Mean in my methods or low in my views : If I were dull or unpleasant : in fact able Neither to please, nor elate, nor amuse : — That makes you angry, impatient ; we'll take it, then, I am a man that to know 's to esteem : That's the admission you make to me : make it then : Well why not love me? what's love but a dream? Only of course in the sense you bestow on it : I have a meaning for love, that is plain: Further than passion, and longing, and so on, it Means to me liking and liking again : 132 Liking, and liking, and liking — that's plain enough; — Something depending on qualities then ? Yes : for they give you both pleasure and pain enough. Qualities common in women and men. Still not a doubt that, the love being brought about, Liking made love, there is more that will come : All the good qualities ever yet thought about : — Yes, they fall short of that excellent sum. Like a man: hke him: and let there be more of it, That which he is he'll be hked for : at last Love in a minute will flash— I am sure of it — Whether the wedding be future or past. You who consider it quite immaterial Whether the person is worthy or not : You who are looking for something ethereal, Something celestial, transcending our lot : You to whom every excellent quality Means but a cypher : who hope to behold Love at a burst in his mighty totality Change all the grey of the world into gold : You dream a priceless love : I feel a penny one : My reason plods, while your fancy can range : — Therefore I ask, since you'll never love any one. Why should you not marry me for a change ? 133 A Joke. You cannot, will not, never could; Of course I knew it, what's the good? I know you, you know me, and then You know so many other men : You Uke them all, you like me too ; And most of them in love with you ! But if it had been otherwise : If I had happened, in your eyes. To be what other men have been In other people's eyes, my queen : Why then, why then, — confound it all. The world's abominably small ! I mean the world of sense and feeling ; A truism there's no concealing. You're smiling : as you smiled before. While I was asking you for more Than you could give me, when I chanced To drop a jest, how quick you glanced 1 You seemed to say that love (we use The word ; how not ?) would scarcely choose Such phrases as we jesters store. To "set the table in a roar." 134 Ah ! if you'd wanted words red hot, You might have had them ; you did not, It's hardly decent, I opine, To prate of beautiful, divine, Describe one's amorous symptoms, gloat On eyes, and hands, and hair, and throat. And magnify one's lady's charms, Like Troubadour or knight at arms, Unless one has the luck to know That she would rather have it so. Faint heart — I know : I'm not the man To do it, though my betters can, Suffice it all the words are there To thrill the circumambient air, The moment I'm allowed: meanwhile Why not encourage you to smile : Reheve the tedium of a scene You're used to? since I do not mean To veil my eyes or bow my head. Or weep, or wish that I were dead. Or fail to fight the fight of life. As keenly as were you my wife. You're smiling still : you don't believe A hopeless lover would not grieve ; A grieving lover would not show Some outward token of his woe : I'm joking, am I? be it so. 135 An Afterthought*. The good a man does from time to time, Gets thanks and praise for, is crowned with bays for Or married for, sung for in verse sublime, Or placed for in marble in civic halls Or hung for in oils on palace walls : Is good that deserves to be hymned, no doubt, Commemorated, and duly feted, And otherwise made much noise about : And of course it is well that the men are found, To do such good, and to be so crowned. But all the good that was ever done, Or even tried for, or longed or sighed for. By all the great men under the sun, Since men were invented, or genius glowed, Or the world was furnished for our abode : Is worth far less than the merest smile, Or touch of finger, or sighs that linger, When cheeks grow dimpled, and Hps lack guile, On the face of the women whom God gives grace To — well on a certain woman's face. * .See "A Thought"; Lapsus Calami, p. 64. 136 To A Rejected Lover. Friend, why so gloomy? why so glum? Why such a dull lack-lustre eye? At festive meetings why so dumb? From dearest friend so apt to fly? You must have got a reason : come ! I know she's young, I know she's fair; I know she's beautiful and sweet: I know her wealth of golden hair, Her sunny eyes, her tiny feet; I do not bid you not despair Of ever being more to her Than half a dozen other men : She's going, if I do not err, To marry some one else : what then ? I see no cause for such a stir. It isn't what one hasn't got That ought to quench the light of life It's what one loses: is it not? It's death, or treason in a wife : It's finding one's unhappy lot n7 Comprises foes, and friends untrue, Grief, worry, sickness, even crime: And I should only pity you. If aught of these should come with time : Not blame you as I own I do. You haven't got a thousand pounds : You cannot write yourself M.P.: There are not any solid grounds For thinking you will ever be A very famous man : but, zounds ! You don't, on that account, exclaim That Hfe's a curse, or birth a blight, Nor do you minimise, or blame. Such merits as are yours by right : Well, be your conduct still the same ! From what you haven't gaily turn To what you have : the world's alive : Still pulses beat, still passions burn ; There's still to work, there's still to strive : The cure is easy to discern. I do not bid you to forget. Nor say that she is full of flaws, Nor rail on womankind : nor yet F.estow a meed of just applause On Amal^el, or V'iolct : 138 Nor say the sea is full of fish As good as those which others catch : Indeed I do not greatly wish To urge you to another match: I only say that life's a dish Well worth the eating, even when You cannot get the sauce you like; You have a pair of hands, a pen, A tongue : I've seen you work, and strike A blow worth striking now and then. So don't be gloomy, don't be glum, Nor give a thought to what you lack : Take what you have : no longer dumb Nor idle ; hit misfortune back. And own that I have reason : come ! 139 Paint and Ink. To C. W. F. You take a brush, and I take a pen: You mix bright colours, I use black ink: You cover a canvas, you first of men, I write on a sheet for a scribbler meet: Well, a contrast's a contrast : I will not shrink. First you compose : a line's grand sweep A break, a blend, a guide for our eyes: You've a tone to settle, a curve to keep, An impression to catch, new tints to match ; And a lesson behind it surely hes. And every touch of your busy brush, And every scrape of your palette-knife. Each squeeze of the tube whence the pigments gush, Each rub of your thumb, helps the whole become A living page from the scroll of Hfe. There's a landscape, a face, which displays — you know it — A fact, a fancy, a thought, a dream, Which the many miss; so, my picture-poet. You catch a part not the whole, — that's art, — And fix it for ever : a simpler theme S. II 140 For a man to grasp at, conceive, remember, Than that which you saw and which we see not: There's your Bathing Girl and your Bleak December, Which you paint and exhibit for fools to gibbet : You wrote the play, but God gave the plot. And we in the pit have caught the meaning You caught, or so much as you saved for us ; But here I perceive you intervening, I hear your stricture: "A picture's a picture: Colour and form : " well ! come, discuss. Is there nothing but colour and form? no soul? A judicious blend, an arrangement clever : Reds and blues : lines, curves : and is that the whole ? No hint designed of the truth behind : Just a thing of beauty, a joy for ever ! I think you are wronging yourself my friend. And the noble craft that you ply so well : For colour and form have a certain end, And composition, or else ambition Were better bestowed than on paint: you tell New truths to us; draw for us morals old From what seemed to have no moral at all: And all's not done when your picture's sold, Nor when you're R.A., at a future day, And your picture glows on a palace wall. 141 To see, and to paint, and to know at sight How much wants painting, how much neglect, Is a noble function, I know : you're right : But by nature's laws there is never a cause That cannot or does not produce effect. And, to point the contrast, and draw the moral, I too, with my humbler art, aspire To a name which I hope you will not quarrel To see me claim : to the noble name Of an artist : in truth I know no higher. But the metres I choose, and the rules I keep, And the lilt of the verses I write for sport. And the rhythm of lines that have made you sleep. And the style of my prose, which, goodness knows, Might grow far better and still fall short; All these, were they better, or even free From faults, would never enable you In the scribbler a brother in arms to see In the noble fray which you fight to-day For the good, the beautiful and the true. I've thoughts to interpret and truths to teach, I've an unread lesson at first to read. Then to state so much of as e'er can reach The brain of the man in the street : my plan Is the same as your own, Sir, it is indeed ! II — 2 142 I blend and arrange and compose : subdue And indicate, aye and emphasize: Till the world gets a hint of the truth : and you ? You do just the same, and the artist's name Is for writer and painter the highest prize. Your colour and form, my words and style, Your wondrous brush and my busy pen, Are our medium, our tools : and all the while The question for each is what truths we teach And how we interpret the world to men. So I do dare claim to be kin with you. And I hold you higher than if your task Were doing no more than you say you do : We shall live, if at all, we shall stand or fall, As men before whom the world doffs its mask And who answer the questions our fellows ask. 143 A Paradox ? To F. C. H. (A Conversation Recapitulated^ to find out what you cannot do, And then to go and do it : There lies the golden rule : but few I ever found above the ground, Except myself, who knew it. You bid me do from day to day The single thing I can do; I can't do what I can't, you say? Indeed I can ; why, hang it man ! I solve it ambidando. I cannot draw the simplest thing: I cannot guess a riddle : I cannot dance, or skate, or sing : I can't compose, and, goodness knows, 1 cannot play the fiddle. 144 And yet, to take a single case, Of all an illustration, At thirty-two (to my disgrace?) I did begin the vioHn, By way of recreation. The way to go to work is taught By precept and correction ; To do it nearly as you ought You learn by force of pains, — of course I don't suggest perfection. "But, ah ! you can't acquire an ear, If Nature don't bestow it : " Excuse me : try before you sneer : The pains you take an " ear " will make, As practice makes a poet. The sounds, by Nature's laws, are there; And all one's education Is just to catch them in the air : Success is due entirely to Attentive observation. "Trained ear: trained fingers, — net result, A tenth-rate fiddler." Granted! Plus hours well spent in patient cult Of music, which you own is rich In gifts not else implanted. 145 Well! so with all the other things: You ca7i learn how to do them : You're born with rudiments of wings : You'll fly in time, and — end subUme ! — You get a pleasure through them. *' Ah, well ! " you answer, " be it so : Although of course it's not so : You've learnt to scrape a fiddle-bow; And what remains? Your addled brains Collapse : men die forgot so ! "You've done the thing you couldn't do: You're just a dilettante : Yes, that's about the truth of you : You'll end, I'm sure, an amateiu*, A mere pococurante ! " Ah ! there, my friend, I kno7u you're wrong ! For what you're best at doing, Law, painting, science, speech or song, Is just what you are bound to do, Whate'er beside pursuing. The small pursuits you undertake For innocent diversion, No earthly difference will make : The work goes on till life be gone : I stand by that assertion ! 146 Although a modest man, my friend, I'll make you this confession : I feel that I have got an "End" — A telos, eh? as you would say — • My metier, my profession : Which is : well, never mind the name; But, Frank, I do assure you, Whatever other little game I chance to play from day to day — (I hope I do not bore you? I'm aiming at a certain chat I had with you, and therefore You must attend, my worthy friend) — Will not effect the least neglect Of what I really care for. 147 Question and Answer. To H. R. The QiiestioJi. The river is flowing, The stars coming forth : Great ruddy clouds going From Westward to North : The rushes are waving, The water's still blue: And I am behaving Decorously too : The amorous zephyr Breathes soft in our ear: Who hears not is deafer Than adders, my dear : Ah ! list to the whisper Of waters and sky ! Thames, vagaljond Hsper, Grows subtle and sly. 148 How trebly delicious The air-draughts we quaff; The hour is propitious: — Oh!... why do you laugh? The Answer. Ask the sky why it flushes, The clouds why they glow: The weir why it gushes, The reeds why they grow: The moon why it rises, The sun why it sets: Her why she surprises, Him why he forgets: The star why it twinkles, The west why it shines : The brow why it wrinkles, The heart why it pines: Mankind why they blunder. The corn why there's chaff: Ask yourself why you wonder - Not me why I laugh ! 149 Blue JIills. An Allegory. To A. M. P. Years ago, in the land of my birth, When my head was little above the earth, I stood by the side of the grass-blades tall, And a quickset hedge was a mighty wall, And a measureless forest I often found In a swampy acre of rush-clad ground: But, when I could see it, the best of the view Was a distant circle, the Hills of Blue. Higher we grow as the long years pass, And I now look down on the growing grass; I see the top where I saw the side, Some beauties are lost as the view grows wide, I see over things that I couldn't see through: But my limit is still the Hills of Blue. As a child I sought them, and found them not. Footsore and weary, tired and hot; They were still the bulwark of all I could see, And still at a fabulous distance from me; I wondered if age and strength could teach How to traverse the plain, the mountains reach Meanwhile, whatever a child might do, They still were far and they still were blue. ISO Well I've reached them at last, those distant Hills; I've reached their base through a world of ills ; I have toiled and laboured and wandered far, With my constant eyes on a shifting star : And ever, as nearer I came, they grew, Larger and larger, but, ah ! less blue. Green I have found them, green and brown, Studded Avith houses, o'erhanging a town. Feeding the plain below with streams. Dappled with shadows and brightening with beams, Image of scenes I had left behind, Merely a group of the hilly kind : And beyond them a prospect as fair to view As the old, and bounded by Hills as blue. But I will not seek those further Hills, Nor travel the course of the outward rills ; I have lost the faith of my childhood's day; Let me dream (it is only a dream) while I may; I will put my beHef to no cruel test: As I doze on this green deceptive crest, I will try to beUeve, as I used to do, There are some Blue Hills which are really blue. I^I The Dawn of the Year. Once in the year, if you get up early, You may get — just once — what you can't but praise: Not a sky that's blue, or a lawn that's pearly. Though these may be there as on other days: But a bright cool still delicious thrill. Which tells you October is come or near: — The Dawn of the Year! For I take it the end of the Long Vacation Which re-peoples the Temple and Lincoln's Inn, And quickens the pulse of civilisation, And ends the hush of our daily din, Is really the season, by hght of reason. Which ought to and does to the wise appear The Dawn of the Year. Years die in July and are dead till September: By the first of October the New Year's born : It's a sturdy infant in mid December, And reaches its prime some April morn: Hot and weary in June, it must perish soon, It is working too hard : it will break : but here Is the Dawn of the Year. 152 And this is the time for good resolutions: He's a laggard who waits till, Christmas past, In obedience to meaningless institutions He starts on a year which can but last Six months or so: while we, who know. Find in golden autumn, not winter drear, The Dawn of the Year. You surely remember the feeling I mean? It's a misty morning, portending heat: Scarce a leaf has fallen, the trees are green. And the last late flowers are bright and sweet, By the sight and scent summer's not yet spent, But there's something new in the atmosphere The Dawn of the Year. Just a touch of healthy autumnal cold, Not the dismal shiver of rainy summers; And a sun no longer a blaze of gold To light the frolic of idle mummers, But a genial guide for the busy tide Of men who have work to do, shows clear The Dawn of the Year. So back to work in the London streets. Or College courts, or clamorous Schools; We have tasted and dwelt on the passing sweets Of sunlit leisure: resume your tools, Get back to your labours, my excellent neighbours, And greet with a spirit that work can cheer, The Dawn of the Year. 153 Battle. How seldom it happens in these dull days, When we're all decorous, and all behave, That our pulses can beat at fever heat And our deeds be sudden and bright and brave, In the keen delight of a stand-up fight, When the wronger falls and the wronged wins bays. To know you are right and to say so boldly, To prove your strength by a downright blow, To punish and pound your foe till the ground Is red with his blood ! — but then, you know, We "make up a visage" — : the worst of this age Is just that we bear our wrongs so coldly. There's a man — for the matter of that there are men — I could deal with just as our fathers dealt With those who defied their manly pride ; Oh ! to feel the wild delight they felt When face to face with a foe : disgrace To inflict, and glory to win : but then 154 We've the honour of being so civiHsed, So good, so kind and so truly wise, And we seldom say at the present day "Come on you — " what you can all surmise:— If we did, we should gain ! but it's all in vain, And my villains will die unpulverised ! But if I could have what some have prayed for, One life more to live how and when I chose, I would ask to belong to one age when wrong Is punished by honest unflinching blows, When to hate's to fight in the open light, And a dire offence is as direly paid for. 155 The Malefactor's Plea. Of sentences that stir my bile, Of phrases I detest, There's one beyond all others vile; "He did it for the best." Of course he did: I don't suppose, Nor can you think I should, The man's among my deadliest foes. Or is not fairly good. Of course he did it for the best: What should he do it for? But did he do it? that's the test: I ask to know no more. Alas! he did: and here am I, Quite ruined, half disgraced; And you can really ask me why My wrath is not effaced: And there is he, good worthy man, With self-esteem possessed, Still saying, as of course he can, "I did it for the best." S. 12 156 No evil deed was ever done, Or honest man withstood, Since first this weary world begun, Except for some one's good. And can it signify to me Whose good he did it for? Mine was it? thus 'twas wont to be. And will be evermore. When inoffensive people plant A dagger in your breast, Your good is what they really want; They do it for the best. LAPSUS ULTIMI 12- The Splinter. Where's fhe philosopher can bear the toothache patiently ? One stormy day in winter, When all the world was snow, I chanced upon a splinter, Which ran into my toe. The world went round: The stubborn ground Defied the deadliest dinter: They brought me tea, And muffins three: My little maid Fetched marmalade: My grace I said, And breakfasted: But all that morn in winter I thought about the splinter. At ten o'clock The postman's knock : A friend was dead: Another wed: Two invitations: Five objurgations: i6o A screed from my solicitor: They brought the Times: A list of crimes: A deadly fight 'Twixt black and white: A note from "B" On Mr. G., And other things From cats to Kings, Known to that grand Inquisitor :- But all that morn in winter I thought about the splinter. But, oh; at last A lady passed Beside my chamber casement, With modest guise And down-cast eyes And fair beyond amazement: She passed away Like some bright fay Too fair for earthly regions, So sweet a sight Would put to flight The fiiend and all his legions! And I, that noon in winter, Forgot the cruel spHnter. i6i My Education. At school I sometimes read a book, And learned a lot of lessons; Some small amount of pains I took, And showed much acquiescence In what my masters said, good men! Yet after all I quite Forgot the most of it: but then I learned to write. At Lincoln's Inn I'd read a brief, Abstract a title, study Great paper -piles, beyond belief Inelegant and muddy : The whole of these as time went by I soon forgot: indeed I tried to: yes: but by and by I learned to read. By help of Latin, Greek and Law I now can write and read too: Then perish each forgotten saw. Each fact I do not need too: But still whichever way I turn At one sad task I stick: I fear that I shall never learn Arithmetic. l62 After the Golden Wedding. (Three Soliloquies.) I. The Husband's. She's not a faultless woman; no! She's not an angel in disguise: She has her rivals here below: She's not an unexampled prize: She does not always see the point Of little jests her husband makes: And, when the world is out of joint, She makes a hundred small mistakes: She's not a miracle of tact: Her temper's not the best I know : She's got her little faults in fact, Although I never tell her so. But this, my wife, is why I hold you As good a wife as ever stepped, And why I meant it when I told you How cordially our feast I kept: You've lived with me these fifty years. And all the time you loved me dearly I may have given you cause for tears: I may have acted rather queerly. i63 I ceased to love you long ago: I loved another for a season: As time went on I came to know Your worth, my wife: and saw the reason "UTiy such a wife as you have been Is more than worth the world beside; You loved me all the time, my Queen; You couldn't help it if you tried. You loved me as I once loved you, As each loved each beside the altar: And whatsoever I might do. Your loyal heart could never falter. And, if you sometimes fail me, sweetest, And don't appreciate me, dear. No matter: such defects are meetest For poor humanity, I fear. And all's forgiven, all's forgot, On this our golden wedding day; For, see! she loves me: does she not? So let the world e'en go its way. I'm old and nearly useless now, Each day a greater weakling proves me: There's compensation anyhow: I still possess a wife that loves me. 164 2. The Wi/^s. Dear worthy husband ! good old man ! Fit hero of a golden marriage : I'll show towards you, if I can, An absolutely wifely carriage. The months or years which your career May still comprise before you perish. Shall serve to prove that I, my dear, Can honour, and obey, and cherish. Till death us part, as soon he must, (And you, my dear, should show the way) I hope you'll always find me just The same as on our wedding day. I never loved you, dearest : never ! Let that be clearly understood : I thought you good, and rather clever. And found you really rather good. And, what was more, I loved another, But couldn't get him : well, but, then You're just as bad, my erring brother, You most impeccable of men : — i65 Except for this : my love was married Some weeks before I married you : While you, my amorous dawdler, tarried Till we'd been wed a year or two. You loved me at our wedding: I Loved some one else: and after that I never cast a loving eye On others : you — well, tit for tat ! But after all I made you cheerful: Your whims I've humoured: saw the point Of all your jokes : grew duly tearful, When you were sad, yet chose the joint You liked the best of all for dinner, And soothed you in your hours of woe : Although a miserable sinner, I am a good wife, as wives go. I bore with you and took your side, And kept my temper all the time : I never flirted ; never cried. Nor ranked it as a heinous crime, When you preferred another lady, Or used improper words to me. Or told a story more than shady. Or snored and snorted after tea, i66 Or otherwise gave proofs of being A dull and rather vain old man : I still succeeded in agreeing With all you said, (the safest plan), Yet always strove my point to carrj-, And make you do as I desired : I'm glad my people made me marry! They hit on just what I required. Had love been wanted — well, I couldn't Have given what I'd not to give; Or had a genius asked me ! wouldn't The man have suffered? now, we live Among our estimable neighbours A decent and decorous life : I've earned by my protracted labours The title of a model wife. But when beneath the turf you're sleeping, And I am sitting here in black. Engaged, as they'll suppose, in weeping, I shall not wish to have you back. 167 The Vica}'s. A good old couple ! kind and wise ! And oh ! what love for one another ! TheyVe won, those two, Hfe's highest prize, Oh ! let us copy them, my brother. i68 A Pair of Portraits. I. He. Oh yes ! I know the sort of man 1 A not entirely vacant eye: A ready smile, a kind of style ; A forehead adequately high : Curls more or less Olympian. A fund of common things to say, A list of common actions done : A taste for tea, a poll degree, A mild delight in harmless fun : In short, a rather taking way. The type is common : wherefore tarry To paint what all must know so well? He's rather tall, his feet are small: He's thoroughly conventional : A man who moves in common grooves, And never startles you at all: Or, all in one sad phrase to tell, The sort of man that women marry. 1 69 2. S/ie. I know the girl: "divinely fair" Of course "and most divinely tall": A modest yet a queenly air : A voice that's keen but musical : A mind above the common run. But soft and kind, when all is done, And womanly withal. A girl who might aspire to light A gifted worker's rugged way : To make the very darkness bright With love's illuminating ray: To kindle some grave rugged man. With genius, ready, if it can, To flash upon the day. A girl to soothe when days are drear: To cheer you on when hope grows dim A girl who should not greatly fear, For truth, however harsh and grim, To scorn conventionalities : The sort of woman, if you please, \Vho marries men like him. I70 A Pair of Fools. I. His account of the matter. I met you dear, I met you : I can't be robbed of that; Despite the crowd, the babble, and the military band; I met you, yes, I met you : and by your side I sat; I looked at you, I talked to you, and twice I held your hand. When you are with me, dearest, the crowd is out of sight; The men who smoke, the men who pose, the sharpers, and the flats ; The people quite unfit to walk beneath the heaven's light; The green and yellow women with intolerable hats. The sun was bright : the dahlias flashed : the trees, in summer sheen, Shut out the dusty houses, hushed the turmoil of the street; 171 But, had the charm of peace enhanced the sweetness of the scene, Even so your beauty had eclipsed the whole of it, my sweet. I talked to you, you listened; I passed from grave to gay, With what a world of sympathy you gently mur- mured "Yes!" A merry " No," a soft "Perhaps," a glance the other way : An eyebrow raised, a foot that tapped, a rustle of your dress. You smiled, ah ! what a smile is yours ; your depth of hazel eyes Shook conscious of the thought within, expressed but unexplained; Your speaking face that glowed with all a girl's sedate surprise; " That brow of hers," as Browning says : the thoughts that it contained ! I talked as ne'er before; to you my eloquence be- longed ; You spoke, dear, with my lips, 'twas I that listened and approved; Slrange subtle phrases sprang, and thoughts as deep as novel thronged : I know you knew, I swear you did, how ardently I loved. S. 13 1/2 We parted, and you looked at me in silence : and I knew The meaning of the look : I'll come to-morrow if I live; To-morrow I shall come, and I will say a word to you, And you will speak, at last, the words that hope and rest can give. 173 2. Her account of the matter. I met him in the park my dear ; he is a funny man ; Impossible to separate his earnest from his fun ; He talks, and talks, it's deadly dull: I smile, you know the plan ; And, when particularly grave, he makes a jest of one. The park was full of people; Maud had such a lovely dress A dream of greeny silk and gauze and primrose ribbons, oh ! I wished I had one ; and her hat ! I tried and tried to guess How much it cost; she buys the stuff and makes a hat, you know. I think I sat with him an hour .; there was a crowd my dear. Some pretty girls : one lovely one : and four at- tractive men : Old Mrs Robinson was there and Mr Vere de Vera, And not another soul I knew : I shall not go again. 13—2 174 I don't know what we talked about : I smiled : the same old smile : I "yes'd" and "no'd" and "really'd," till I thought he must discover That I was listening to the band : I wondered all the while If such a dull old gentleman could ever be a lover. Perhaps some solemn sober girl with eyes a foot across, Smooth neatly-parted hair, no stays, elastic-sided boots, Will yearn at him and marry him : I sha'n't regret his loss : I really think some kinds of men are lower than the brutes. He went at last, the prig ! He'll come to-morrow if he can, He means to recollect our talk — ours mind you — all his life : Confound — I beg your pardon, dear — well, bless the little man ! And bless the little woman who becomes his little wife ! 175 3. My accoutit of the matter. A pair of fools : the man was vain, The woman frivolous, 'tis plain : And each an egoist in thought : One dived for self: the other sought Self on the surface : fools, you see : Two fools. Perhaps there'll soon be three; For now they're married, he and she. 176 Elegy on de Marsay. Come cats and kittens everywhere, Whate'er of cat the world contains, From Tabby on the kitchen stair To Tiger burning in his lair Unite your melancholy strains ; Weep, Hkewise, kindred dogs, and weep Domestic fowls, and pigs, and goats; Weep horses, oxen, poultry, sheep, Weep finny monsters of the deep, Weep foxes, weasels, badgers, stoats. Weep more than all, exalted man And hardly less exalted maid; Out-weep creation if you can Which never yet, since time began, Such creditable grief displayed. It little profiteth that we Go proudly up and down the land. And drive our ships across the sea. And babble of Eternity, And hold the Universe in hand; 1/7 If, when our pride is at its height, And glory sits upon our head, A sudden mist can dim the light, A voice be heard in pride's despite, A voice which cries "De Marsay's dead." De Marsay dead! and never more Shall I behold that silky form Lie curled upon the conscious floor With sinuous hmbs and placid snore. As one who sleeps through calm and storm? De Marsay dead ! De Marsay dead ! And are you dead, de Marsay, you? The sun is shining over head With glory undiminished, And you are dead ; let me die too ! Then birds, and beasts, and fishes come, And people come, of all degrees; Beat, sadly beat the funeral drum, And let the gloomy organ hum With dark mysterious melodies. And (when we've adequately moaned), For all the world to wonder at, Let this great sentence be intoned: No cat so sweet a mistress owned; No mistress owned so sweet a cat. 178 Senex to Matt. Prior. Ah ! Matt. : old age has brought to me Thy wisdom, less thy certainty : The world's a jest, and joy's a trinket: I knew that once : but now — I think it. 179 Cynicus to W. Shakspere. You wrote a line too much, my sage, Of seers the first, and first of sayers ; For only half the world's a stage, And only all the women players. IN MEMORIAM I. J. R. Lowell. Lowell : the labours of your noble life, Your state-craft, and your high poetic skill Were aye a force that made for union, till The peace now reigning hushed the ancient strife Between the mighty land that gave you life, And that whose kinship distance could not kill. I think your death has drawn us nearer still ! Now with your praise our island home is rife, While rings your continent with equal praise; And here, as there, we sadly quote your lays. And Lowell ! I who knew you, also know Some that you loved in England, who to-day Not only share your countless readers' woe. But mourn a dear old friend that's passed away. August 13, 1 891. 1 84 2. The Rt. Hon. H. C. Raikes. No need upon your honoured tomb The words de Mortuis to write : For while we mourn your early doom, Your merits strike on all men's sight. The qualities you chanced to want, How unimportant they appear : Whatever fortune did not grant, The greatest gift of all was there. You never deigned by any shift Your share of daily toil to shirk : You had the grand essential gift — Capacity for honest work. By work you lived, by work you died. And earned a name, if any can. That's almost always misapplied. An honest English Working Man. And I, who dared in boyhood's day To write, in later years to print, A somewhat disrespectful lay, — Though there was naught of malice in't- i85 Should like to say I'm not the last To recognise your sterling worth : Forgive my strictures of the past, The overflow of harmless mirth ; For this at least is wholly true; I should be more than satisfied To work as well and hard as you, To die in harness, as you died. September, 1891. AQUARELLES s. 14 In a Gardex. Sitting on a garden-seat, All a summer afternoon, Reading, while the envious heat Haunts you like a weary tune: Watching other people playing, Playing at a certain game; Bodies flitting, twisting, swaying : WTiite balls flying, white forms vying With each other : can you blame One who says : " The worst of men is He who first devised Lawn-Tennis " ? In a villa's garden plot Such a game might be allowed : When a London square grows hot, Let a fashionable crowd Gather, where the brown turf hardens, With their Sunday hats and racquets: But in perfect College gardens 14 — 2 190 Made for leisure, rife with pleasure, Where men go in flannel jackets, Read their books, and dream their dreams, Forge their future volumes' themes; Is it decent, is it right, That a man should have to look at Such a desolating sight, One so made to throw a book at, As a little don that's prancing. With a wild, perspiring air, All about the court is dancing, Gallopading, masquerading, Though nor grace nor strength be there. As an athlete? Let him do it Somewhere else, or duly rue it. • »••••• • Nay, more : it was here, was it not, That we wandered, two friends and I, Past the end of June, when a large half-moon Sailed sad in a sober sky, And the trees that were leafy and thick forgot To be green, and the mist-wreaths wandered by. And the world beyond was a dim expanse Of blue that was green, and green that was blue. And the bushes were black which enclosed our track, And the flowers were dashed with a blackness too, And caught in a rapture, or rapt in a trance. The garden was waiting : such hours are few ! 191 For at first there were remnants of rosy light On the tall grey chapel beyond the trees, And the west not ablaze, but aglow with rays That had faded : a whisper of rest the breeze, And the silence a tremulous still delight, And the unseen meadows as unseen seas. And we noted a spot where the purple shade, Which hid the tree-trunks and dimmed the grass, Seemed to mean far more than it meant before. Till all that we fancied took shape and was : And we looked on a deep, reposeful glade, ^Vhence Satyr and Dryad and Faun might pass. And that's what the garden must mean for me. For me and my friends who were there that night : What wonder, then, if I hate the men Who prove beyond doubt, when the noon is bright. That my glade is a lawn which can easily be Deformed with horrible squares of white, And peopled with forms that offend my sight. 192 Autumn Thoughts. Winter in the College Garden, Twigs for leaves, and snow for grass, Biting blasts that sear and harden Where soft zephyrs used to pass, Hidden places, white bare spaces; — What a change it was ! Months have passed since I beheld it: Soon it may be here again, Summer's gone: grey ghosts expelled it: Sad's the murmur of the rain: — "Winter, winter!" — dreary hinter: Hear the dull refrain. As I sit this wet October Russet leaf-clouds whirHng by, Can I but be grave and sober, Drooping spirit, downcast eye. Thinking dimly, brooding grimly; — Winter, winter's nigh? And the world that I'm recalling: — Such a world of burnished snow! Scarce a brown leaf left for falling: Not a green leaf left to show How the splendid colours blended Twenty weeks ago! 193 Up and down the long white spaces, ^Vhere dim leaves are whirling now, How I gazed on phantom-faces, How I planned — no matter how! Here I wandered, here I pondered, Here I made a vow. Cold crisp renovating weather, Clear and colourless and bright, This, I think, should go together With a mind intent on right, Plans revolving, deeds resolving. Seeking for the light. Yes, I made a vow, and wrote it In my heart, nine months ago: Framed a contract — I could (juote it: Drew a line to walk by — so : Have I kept it? or o'erleapt it? Well, I hardly know. 194 After Sunset. I. Aug. 30, 1891. At Magna Charta Island. A grey lawn cut by the river's brink, And then the stream, Dun slabs of marble, splashed with ink. Beyond — a dream! — A purple shield of blazing bronze Streaked here and there with silver: a pair Of rainbow-coloured swans. And above the blaze of the burnished river The burnished sky. Bronze banners of vapour which hardly quiver As the breeze goes by. Girt round with a dark blue belt of cloud ; One primrose patch, which the ripples catch, And the first of the stars' blithe crowd. And between the water and sky one observes A slope, tree-crowned: Black tree-tops tracing a thousand curves, Where gloom's profound; And grey-green meadows from slope to stream. With a steep black bank at the edge : how thank The fate which allows man's brain to house Such a spirit-soothing dream? 195 2. Sept. 5, 1891. In the Lock-Cut : Old Windsor. Great purple clouds in the western sky, Hung thick o'er a blaze of golden white, And below that glory there seems to lie, A cushion of silver: not so bright But it dulls to a grey that entombs the day And heralds the march of night. One tree hides a third of the gorgeous west, — A disk of black is its dusky growth — - Yet not hides: nay perhaps displays at best Through the chinks which it opens, nothing loth: WTiile its outhne bold cuts silver and gold, And heightens the blaze of both. And up to the glory of golden white, With the purple above and the silver below, There's a river lane that is darkly bright. Softly and smoothly and quietly aglow, Blue willows beside it, night hasting to hide it, Day sorry to let it go. The tree grows blacker, the night falls fast. And purple and silver and white must fade: But something was shown us which can't but last: Has a song been sung? has a play been played? Has a lesson been taught, or was all for naught? Well — nothing endures Hke the past. 196 3- Sept. 9, 1 89 1, Off the Bells of Ouseley. The Poet. The water is black and opaque and polished, Not a ripple to break it, or ray to illume: From bank to bank, like a sunless tank, Swept clear of ripples by some witch-broom: What's it like, dear Muse? come! impart your views. Or, faith, you'll be soon abolished. The Muse. Just the dripping asphalte of rain-washed Paris, With our gUding punt for the rumbhng tram; And your face shining black in the ghstening track : On the bank, for the workman who drains his dram, One willow as griin as a phantom dim Evoked by Augustus Harris. DESINE PERVICAX Labenti Calamo. Adieu, dear pen! thy merry quips And facile cranks have had their day; Thy not unprofitable "slips" Have passed in printer's ink away. Nor less thy days of serious verse On love, and art, and such high themes Have suffered the primeval curse. And died into the realm of dreams. We are but frauds, the pair of us: And if a while you've masqueraded As quill from wing of Pegasus, That little fancy's gone and faded. You're dying, pen: but I am not: You're old; I'm barely middle-aged; And, while you comfortably rot, I shall be otherwise engaged. 200 I've done my best at stringing rhymes, And found it pleasant, goodness knows ; I've shunned some errors, spared some crimes. And now I'm going back to prose. Yes, prose is what I wrote at first. And prose is what I'll live by writing, It's not by any means the worst Of trades, nor yet the least exciting. For, mark you, writing is an art. As all but daily hacks acknowledge ; It ought to form the highest part Of men's curriculum at College. It's easy when you've got to scan, And got to rhyme before you print. To make a stanza, where a man Shall see of art at least a hint. But when you're writing prose as pure As Jourdain talked, but didn't know it, You'll have to make, you may be sure, Some efforts easier for a poet. A sentence, lacking rhyme and measure, But none the less a work of art, Costs greater pains, gives greater pleasure Than much that's dearer in the mart. 20I Your half unfinished statuette, Or humble tune which 'scapes e'en stealing, A sketch you make and then forget. Has more of art, and more of feeling, Than some correct colossal bust, Or operatic morceau fine. Which wins encomiums loud and just, Or picture hanging on the line. So such a humble work in prose. Which says what has been said before. Or article, or letter shows, To those who know their business, more Of true artistic worth, my pen, Than poetry that's capped and quoted, Wherever cultivated men Praise that to which they're all devoted. I mean to re-appear as one Whose prose is better than his verse : Farewell, my friend through days of fun ! Farewell, deft Uner of my purse ! We've lived right gaily you and I : We've had some sport, and made some money ; And, if we could not make folks cry, We were occasionally funny. 202 We've argued too in verse : we've tried To prove, disprove, deny, assert; We've blustered, whispered, laughed and sighed, But never yet did any hurt. Yet both were certain all the time, As any candid friend could be. That though we might succeed in rhyme We could not rise to poetry. The curtain falls: the play is done: But I am in another piece: I've got to dress: the band's begun, It's time for our discourse to cease. I go to fly at higher game: At prose as good as I can make it: And, though it brings nor gold nor fame, I will not, while I live, forsake it. Farewell! I've other work to do: Another way of reaching men: But I shall still remember you. You've served me well: adieu, dear Pen! August, 1891. CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY J. & C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. A HISTORY OF CAMBRIDGESHIRE. By Rev. Ednvakd CONYBEARE, M.A., formerly Scholar of Trinity College, Cam- bridge. Handmade paper, 8vo. (only 250 printed), half Rox- burghe, with Map, los. 6d. net. Large paper, 4to., handmade paper (only 60 copies printed), half Roxburghe, with Map, 21S. net. • Contents: I. Introductory. — II. Romano-British Period.— III. Anglo- Saxon Period, I. — IV. Anglo-Saxon Period, II. — V. Norman Period. — VI. Early English Period. — VII. Perpendicular Period. — VIII. Reforma- tion Period, I. — IX. Reformation Period, II. — X. Modem Period. — Index. GUARDIAN. — "Full of infonnation, well weighed, arranged, and sifted, and put in such a way as to be readable as well as learned. .-Vn admirable specimen of what a county history which is meant for the general reader as well as for the antiquary ought to be. " DAILY GRAPHIC.— ''Mr. Conybeare is to be congratulated on having produced a volume which is at once thorough and readable." MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—'' Written in a lively and attractive style." CHURCH TIMES.— ''li is the ver>' model of a county history for the general reader, and it would be difficult to praise it beyond its desert. Mr. Conybeare unites to a minute and accurate knowledge of his subject a singularly lucid and picturesque style. " PUBLIC OPINION.— "The: author has made ample u'se of the rich materials at his command, and the result is a highly pleasing and instructive work. He merits congratulation not only for the wealth of information he has won, but also for the useful way in which he has presented it to his readers. " Now ready with Map and 75 Illustrations. A CONCISE GUIDE TO THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY of Cambridge. In Four Vv'alks. By JOHN WliLlS Cl.\RK, M.A., F.S.A., Registrary of the University, formerly P'ellow of Trinity College, is. net ; or in limp cloth case with pocket and duplicate of the Map, 2s. net. TIMES.— " AW intelligent visitors to Cambridge, however short their stay, will be grateful to Mr. J. W. Clark, the Registrar^- of the University, for his excellent Concise Guide to the Town and University of Cambridge in Four Walks. It is not often that the casual visitor to a place of great historical and architectural interest like Cambridge finds so competent a cicerone zs, Mr. Clark to tell him what he can see and what is best worth seeing in the time at his disposal." ATHEN^UM.—"-^\x. J. Willis Clark has written A Concise Guide to Cambridge oi wnyx%\xzS. excellence." DAILY CHRONICLE.— '' An ideal guide-book by a former Fellow of Trinity." MANCHESTER GUARDIAN— "Ur. Clark's vari,id accomplish- ments raise this little book quite out of the catcgc^ry of ordinary popular guide-books." ACADEMY.— ''In a book of its size the information is, of course, much condensed, but so far as it goes it is excellent." Macmillan & Bowes, Cambridge Crown 8vo. With numerous Illustrations. 5s. net. IN THE SHADOW OF SINAI A Story of Travel and Research, 1895 — 1897 BY AGNES SMITH LEWIS Author of ^' Glhnpses of Greek Life and Scenery,'"'' ^'■Through Cyprus" dr'c. LEEDS y(/^i?(rW?F.— "Extremely fascinating to Biblical scholars, whilst the general reader can scarcely fail to be attracted by a narrative that is so widely different from ordinary books of travel, and which contains so much of human and literary interest." CAMBRIDGE RE VIE ^F.— " In this little book we have an interest-^ ing personal narrative giving a short but clear account of the circumstances, conversations and travel that led to the discovery of more than one important MS. The difficulties that have to be encountered by travellers, especially by ladies who cross the desert on camels, are amusingly told, and Is the author traversed much of the route of the Israelites, the story is in- terspersed with reflections and criticisms of the meaning of some of the statements in the account of the Exodus." SCOTSMAN. — " It requires no knowledge of Syriac to appreciate the zeal and determination which are so clearly reflected in this volume." PLAYTIME WITH A PEN. A Dramatic Idyll, a Tragic Fragment, and other pieces in Prose and Verse. By G. H, Powell. 8vo, pp. 32. 1891. \s. 6d. LAURENCE CHADERTON, D.D. (first Master of Emmanuel) Translated from a Latin Memoir of Dr. Dillingham, with notes and illustrations. Richard Farmer, D.D, (Master of Emmanuel, 1775 — 1797)- An Essay. By E. S. Shuckburgh. is. net. LIBRARIES IN THE MEDIEVAL AND THE RE- naissance Periods. The Rede Lecture, delivered June 13th, 1894, by J. W. Clark, M.A., F.S.A., Registrary of the Uni- versity, etc., formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 7 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth. 2j. 6d. net. THE LIFE OF JOHN SEBASTIAN BACH IN RE- lation to his Work as a Church Musician and Composer. A' Lecture by Sedley Taylor, M.A., late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. By Dr. A. W. Verrall, Music by Prof. C. Villiers Stanford, SANCTAE TRINITATIS COLLEGII APUD CANTABRI- giensis Carmen Familiare (Trinity College Song). Auctoribus A. W, Verrall et C. Villiers Stanford, \s. net. Macmillan & Bowes, Cambridge DATE DUE ■ GAYLORD PRINTED IN U S A. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY III! Il|l|illl|i|i AA 000 555 297 uNiy^f^si 1 YQFPi 3 1210 01269 5332 imi