NIVERSITY CA ORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 3 1822 00204 6084
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CAL FORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 3 1822 00204 6084 
 
 '
 
 Woo. 
 
 \j.\
 
 WORKS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD.
 
 WORKS OF 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 TRANSLATOR OF OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
 REPRINTED 
 
 FROM THE ORIGINAL IMPRESSIONS, WITH SOME CORRECTIONS 
 DERIVED FROM HIS OWN ANNOTATED COPIES 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 NEW-YORK AND BOSTON LONDON 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. BERNARD QUARITCH 
 
 1887
 
 % 
 
 AMERICAN PEOPLE, 
 
 WHOSE EARLY APPRECIATION OF THE GENIUS OF 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 WAS THE 
 
 CHIEF STIMULANT OF THAT CURIOSITY 
 
 BY WHICH HIS NAME WAS DRAWN FROM ITS ANONYMOUS 
 
 CONCEALMENT AND ADVANCED TO THE POSITION 
 
 OF HONOUR WHICH IT NOW HOLDS, 
 
 THIS EDITION OF HIS WORKS IS DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 THE EDITOR.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 TjlDWARD FITZGERALD, whom the world lias 
 *-^ already learned, in spite of his own efforts to 
 remain within the shadow of anonymity, to look upon 
 as one of the rarest poets of the century, was born at 
 Bredfield in Suffolk, on the 31st March, 1809. He was 
 the third son of John Purcell, of Kilkenny in Ireland, 
 who, marrying Miss Mary Frances Fitzgerald, daughter 
 of John Fitzgerald, of William stown, County Water- 
 ford, added that distinguished name to his own patro- 
 nymic ; and the future Omar was thus doubly of Irish 
 extraction. (Both the families of Purcell and Fitz- 
 gerald claim descent from Norman warriors of the 
 eleventh century.) This circumstance is thought to 
 have had some influence in attracting him to the study 
 of Persian poetry, Iran and Erin being almost con- 
 vertible terms in the early days of modern ethnology. 
 After some years of primary education at the grammar 
 school of Bury St. Edmunds, he entered Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, in 1826, and there formed acquaintance 
 with several young men of great abilities, most of
 
 Vlll BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 whom rose to distinction before him, but never ceased 
 to regard with affectionate remembrance the quiet and 
 amiable associate of their college-days. Amongst them 
 were Alfred Tennyson, Jarnes Spedding, William Bod- 
 ham Donne, John Mitchell Kemble, and William 
 Makepeace Thackeray ; and their long friendship has 
 been touchingly referred to by the Laureate in dedi- 
 cating his last poem to the memory of Edward Fitzger- 
 ald. u Euphranor," our author's earliest printed work, 
 affords a curious picture of his academic life and 
 associations. Its substantial reality is .evident beneath 
 the thin disguise of the symbolical or classical names 
 which he gives to the personages of the colloquy ; and 
 the speeches which he puts into his own mouth are full 
 of the humorous gravity, the whimsical and kindly 
 philosophy, which remained his distinguishing charac- 
 teristics till the end. This book was first published in 
 1851 ; a second and a third edition were printed some 
 years later ; all anonymous, and each of the latter two 
 differing from its predecessor by changes in the text 
 which were not indicated on the title-pages. 
 
 "Euphranor" furnishes a good many characteriza- 
 tions which would be useful for any writer treating 
 upon Cambridge society in the third decade of this cen- 
 tury. Keuelm Digby, the author of the " Broadstone 
 of Honour," had left Cambridge before the time when 
 Euphranor held his " dialogue," but he is picturesquely 
 recollected as " a grand swarthy fellow who might have 
 stepped out of the canvas of some knightly portrait in
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. IX 
 
 his father's hall perhaps the living image of one 
 sleeping under some cross-legged effigies in the church." 
 In " Euphranor," it is easy to discover the earliest 
 phase of the unconquerable attachment which Fitz- 
 gerald entertained for his college and his life-long 
 friends, and which induced him in later days to make 
 frequent visits to Cambridge, renewing and refreshing 
 the old ties of custom and friendship. In fact, his 
 disposition was affectionate to a fault, and he betrayed 
 his consciousness of weakness in that respect by refer- 
 ring playfully at times to "a certain natural lubricity" 
 which he attributed to the Irish character, and pro- 
 fessed to discover especially in himself. This amiability 
 of temper endeared him to many friends of totally 
 dissimilar tastes and qualities ; and, by enlarging his 
 sympathies, enabled him to enjoy the fructifying influ- 
 ence of studies pursued in communion with scholars 
 more profound than himself, but less gifted with the 
 power of expression. One of the younger Cambridge 
 men with whom he became intimate during his peri- 
 odical pilgrimages to the university was Edward B. 
 Cowell, a man of the highest attainment in Oriental 
 learning, who resembled Fitzgerald himself in the pos- 
 session of a warm and genial heart, and of the most 
 unobtrusive modesty. From Cowell he could easily learn 
 that the hypothetical affinity between the names of Erin 
 and Iran belonged to an obsolete stage of etymology ;. 
 but the attraction of a far-fetched theory was replaced 
 by the charm of reading Persian poetry in companion-
 
 X BIOGRAPHICAL PEEFACE. 
 
 ship with his young friend who was equally competent 
 to enjoy and to analyse the beauties of a literature that 
 formed a portion of his regular studies. They read 
 together the poetical remains of Khayyam a choice 
 of reading which sufficiently indicates the depth and 
 range of Mr. Cowell's knowledge. Omar Khayyam, 
 although not quite forgotten, enjoyed in the history of 
 Persian literature a celebrity like that of Occleve and 
 Gower in our own. In the many Tazkimt (memoirs 
 or memorials) of Poets, he was mentioned and quoted 
 with esteem ; but his poems, labouring as they did under 
 the original sin of heresy and atheism, were seldom 
 looked at, and from lack of demand on the part of 
 readers, had become rarer than those of most other 
 writers since the days of Firdausi. European scholars 
 knew little of his works beyond his Arabic treatise on 
 Algebra, and Mr. Cowell may be said to have disen- 
 tombed his poems from oblivion. Now, thanks to the 
 fine taste of that scholar, and to the transmuting 
 genius of Fitzgerald, no Persian poet is so well known 
 in the western world as Abu-'l-fat'h 7 Omar son of 
 Ibrahim the Tentmaker of Naishapiir, whose manhood 
 synchronises with the Norman conquest of England, 
 and who took for his poetic name (taklmTlHx) the 
 designation of his father's trade (KJiaijt/tinij. The 
 Rubd'iyydt (Quatrains) do not compose a single poem 
 divided into a certain number of stanzas ; there is no 
 continuity of plan in them, and each stanza is a dis- 
 tinct thought expressed in musical verse. There is no
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. xi 
 
 other element of unity in them than the general ten- 
 dency of the Epicurean idea, and the arbitrary divan 
 form by which they are grouped according to the 
 alphabetical arrangement of the final letters ; those 
 in which the rhymes end in a constituting the first 
 di vision , those with & the second, and so on. The 
 peculiar attitude towards religion and the old questions 
 of fate, immortality, the origin and the destiny of man, 
 which educated thinkers have assumed in the present 
 age of Christendom, is found admirably foreshadowed 
 in the fantastic verses of Khayyam, who was no more 
 of a Mohammedan than many of our best writers are 
 Christians. His philosophical and Horatian fancies 
 graced as they are by the charms of a lyrical expression 
 equal to that of Horace, and a vivid brilliance of im- 
 agination to which the Roman poet could make no 
 claim exercised a powerful influence upon Fitzger- 
 ald's mind, and coloured his thoughts to such a degree 
 that even when he oversteps the largest licence allowed 
 to a translator, his phrases reproduce the spirit and 
 manner of his original with a nearer approach to 
 perfection than would appear possible. It is usually 
 supposed that there is more of Fitzgerald than of 
 Khayyam in the English RuM'iyydt, and that the 
 old Persian simply afforded themes for the Anglo- 
 Irishman's display of poetic power ; but nothing could 
 be further from the truth. The French translator, J. 
 B. Nicolas, and the English one, Mr. Whinfield, supply 
 a closer mechanical reflection of the sense in each
 
 Xll BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 separate stanza ; but Mr. Fitzgerald has, in some 
 instances, given a version equally close and exact ; in 
 others, rejointed scattered phrases from more than one 
 stanza of his original, and thus accomplished a feat of 
 marvellous poetical transfusion. He frequently turns 
 literally into English the strange outlandish imagery 
 which Mr. Whinfield thought necessary to replace by 
 more intelligible banalities, and in this way the magic 
 of his genius has successfully transplanted into the 
 garden of English poesy exotics that bloom like native 
 flowers. 
 
 One of Mr. Fitzgerald's Woodbridge friends was 
 Bernard Barton, the Quaker poet, with whom he main- 
 tained for many years the most intimate and cordial 
 intercourse, and whose daughter Lucy he married. 
 He wrote the memoir of his friend's life which appeared 
 in the posthumous volume of Barton's poems. The story 
 of his married life was a short one. With all the over- 
 flowing amiability of his' nature, there were mingled 
 certain peculiarities or waywardnesses which were more 
 suitable to the freedom of celibacy than to the staid- 
 ness of matrimonial life. A separation took place by 
 mutual agreement, and Fitzgerald behaved in this cir- 
 cumstance with the generosity and unselfishness which 
 were apparent in all his whims no less than in his 
 more deliberate actions. Indeed, his entire career 
 was marked by an unchanging goodness of heart 
 and a genial kindliness; and no one could complain 
 of having ever endured hurt or ill-treatment at his
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 hands. His pleasures were innocent and simple. 
 Amongst the more delightful, he counted the short 
 coasting trips, occupying no more than a day or two at 
 a time, which he used to make in his own yacht from 
 Lowestoft, accompanied only by a crew of two men, 
 and such a friend as Cowell, with a large pasty and 
 a few bottles of wine to supply their material wants. 
 It is needless to say that books were also put into the 
 cabin, and that the symposia of the friends were thus 
 brightened by communion with the minds of the great 
 departed. Fitzgerald's enjoyment of gnomic wisdom en- 
 shrined in words of exquisite propriety was evinced by 
 the frequency with which he used to read Montaigne's 
 essays and Madame de Sevigne's letters, and the vari- 
 ous works from which he extracted and published 
 his collection of wise saws entitled "Polonius." This 
 taste was allied to a love for what was classical and 
 correct in literature, by which he was also enabled to 
 appreciate the prim and formal muse of Crabbe, in 
 whose grandson's house he died. 
 
 His second printed work was the " Polonius," already 
 referred to, which appeared in 1852. It exemplifies his 
 favourite reading, being a collection of extracts, some- 
 times short proverbial phrases, sometimes longer 
 pieces of characterization or reflection, arranged under 
 abstract headings. He occasionally quotes Dr. John- 
 son, for whom he entertained sincere admiration ; but 
 the ponderous and artificial fabric of Johnsonese did 
 not please him like the language of Bacon, Fuller, Sir
 
 XIV BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 Thomas Browne, Coleridge, whom he cites frequently. 
 A disproportionate abundance of wise words was drawn 
 from Carlyle; his original views, his forcible sense, and 
 the friendship with which Fitzgerald regarded him, 
 having apparently blinded the latter to the ungainly 
 style and ungraceful mannerisms of the Chelsea sage. 
 (It was Thackeray who first made them personally 
 acquainted nearly forty years ago; and Fitzgerald 
 remained always loyal to his first instincts of affection 
 and admiration.*) Polonius also marks the period of 
 his earliest attention to Persian studies, as he quotes in 
 it the great Sufi poet Jalal-ud-din-Rumi, whose masnavi 
 has lately been translated into English by Mr. Redhouse, 
 but whom Fitzgerald can only have seen in the original. 
 He, however, spells the name JaUaladin, an incorrect 
 form of which he could not have been guilty at the 
 time when he produced Omar Khayyam, and which 
 thus betrays that he had not long been engaged with 
 Irani literature. He was very fond of Montaigne's 
 essays, and of Pascal's Pensees ; but his Polonius 
 reveals a sort of dislike and contempt for Voltaire. 
 
 * The close relation that subsisted between Fitzgerald and Carlyle 
 has lately been made patent by an article in the Historical Ecvieir 
 upon the Squire papers, those celebrated documents purporting 
 to be contemporary records of Cromwell's time, which were ac- 
 cepted by Carlyle as genuine, but which other scholars have 
 asserted from internal evidence to be modern forgeries. However 
 the question may Vie decided, the fact which concerns us here is 
 that our poet was the negotiator between Mr. Squire and Carlyle. 
 and that his correspondence with the latter upon the subject 
 reveals the intimate nature of their acquaintance. 
 
 <
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. XV 
 
 Amongst the Germans, Jean Paul, Goethe, Alexander 
 .von Hmnboldt, and August Wilhelm von Schlegel 
 attracted him greatly ; but he seems to have read little 
 German, and probably only quoted translations. His 
 favourite motto was "Plain Living and High Thinking," 
 and he expresses great reverence for all things manly, 
 simple, and true. The laws and institutions of England 
 were, in his eyes, of the highest value and sacredness ; 
 and whatever Irish sympathies he had would never have 
 diverted his affections from the Union to Home Rule. 
 This is strongly illustrated by some original lines of 
 blank verse at the end of Polouius, annexed to his quo- 
 tation, under "^Esthetics," of the words in which Lord 
 Palmerston eulogised Mr. Gladstone for having devoted 
 his Neapolitan tour to an inspection of the prisons. 
 
 Fitzgerald's next printed work was a translation of 
 Six Dramas of Calderon, published in 1853, which was 
 unfavourably received at the time, and consequently 
 withdrawn by him from circulation. His name appeared 
 on the title-page, a concession to publicity which was 
 so unusual with him that it must have been made under 
 strong pressure from his friends. The book is in ner- 
 vous blank verse, a mode of composition which he han- 
 dled with great ease and skill. There is no waste of 
 power in diffuseness and no employment of unnecessary 
 epithets. It gives the impression of a work of the 
 Shakespearean age, and reveals a kindred felicity, 
 strength, and directness of language. It deserves 
 to rank with his best efforts in poetry, but its ill-
 
 XVI BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 success made him feel that the publication of his name 
 was an unfavourable experiment, and he never again 
 repeated it. His great modesty, however, would suffi- 
 ciently account for this shyness. Of " Omar Khayyam/ 1 
 even after the little book had won its way to general 
 esteem, he used to say that the suggested addition of 
 his name on the title would imply an assumption of 
 importance which he considered that his " transmogri- 
 fication " of the Persian poet did not possess. 
 
 Fitzgerald's conception of a translator's privilege is 
 well set forth in the prefaces of his versions from Cal- 
 deron, and the Agamemnon of ^Eschylus. He main- 
 tained that, in the absence; of the perfect poet, who shall 
 re-create in his own language the body and soul of his 
 original, the best system is that of a paraphrase con- 
 serving the spirit of the author, a sort of literary 
 metempsychosis. Calderon, ^Eschylus. and Omar 
 Khayyam were all treated with equal licence, so far as 
 form is concerned, the last, perhaps, the most arbi- 
 trarily ; but the result is not unsatisfactory as having 
 given us perfect English poems instinct with the true 
 flavour of their prototypes. The Persian was prob- 
 ably somewhat more Horatian and less melancholy, the 
 Greek a little less florid and mystic, the Spaniard more 
 lyrical and fluent, than their metaphrast has made 
 them ; but the essential spirit has not escaped in trans- 
 fusion. Only a man of singular gifts could have 
 performed the achievement, and these works attest Mr. 
 Fitzgerald's right to rank amongst the finest poets of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. XVli 
 
 the century. About the same time as he printed his 
 Calderon, another set of translations from the same 
 dramatist was published by the late D. F. MacCarthy ; 
 a scholar whose acquaintance with Castilian literature 
 was much deeper than Mr. Fitzgerald's, and who also 
 possessed poetical abilities of no mean order, with a 
 totally different sense of the translator's duty. The 
 popularity of MacCarthy's versions has been considera- 
 ble, and as an equivalent rendering of the original in 
 sense and form his work is valuable. Spaniards familiar 
 with the English language rate its merit highly; but 
 there can be little question of the very great superiority 
 of Mr. Fitzgerald's work as a contribution to English 
 literature. It is indeed only from this point of view 
 that we should regard all the literary labours of our 
 author. They are English poetical work of fine quality, 
 dashed with a pleasant outlandish flavour which 
 heightens their charm ; and it is as English poems, not 
 as translations, that they have endeared themselves 
 even more to the American English than to the mixed 
 Britons of England. 
 
 It was an occasion of no small moment to Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald's fame, and to the intellectual gratification of 
 many thousands of readers, when he took his little 
 packet of Rubd'iyydt to Mr. Quaritch in the latter part 
 of the year 1858. It was printed as a small quarto 
 pamphlet, bearing the publisher's name but not the 
 author's ; and although apparently a complete failure 
 at first, a failure which Mr. Fitzgerald regretted less
 
 xviii BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 on his own account than on that of his publisher, to 
 whom he had generously made a present of the book, 
 received, nevertheless, a sufficient distribution by being 
 quickly reduced from the price of five shillings and 
 placed in the box of cheap books marked a penny each. 
 Thus forced into circulation, the two hundred copies 
 which had been printed were soon exhausted. Among 
 the buyers were Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Mr. S win- 
 bourne. Captain (now Sir Richard) Burton, and Mr. 
 William Simpson, the accomplished artist of the Illus- 
 trated London Neivs. The influence exercised by the 
 first three, especially by Rossetti, upon a clique of 
 young men who have since grown to distinction, was 
 sufficient to attract observation to the singular beauties 
 of the poem anonymously translated from the Persian. 
 Most readers had no possible opportunity of discover- 
 ing whether it was a disguised original or an actual 
 translation ; even Captain Burton enjoyed probably 
 but little chance of seeing a manuscript of the Persian 
 Ruba'iyyat. The Oriental imagery and allusions were 
 too thickly scattered throughout the verses to favour 
 the notion that they could be the original work of an 
 Englishman ; yet it was shrewdly suspected by most of 
 the appreciative readers that the " translator " was sub- 
 stantially the author and creator of the poem. In the 
 refuge of his anonymity, Fitzgerald derived an inno- 
 cent gratification from the curiosity that was aroused 
 on all sides. After the first edition had disappeared, 
 inquiries for the little book became frequent, and
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. xix 
 
 in the year 1868 he gave the MS. of his second edi- 
 tion to Mr. Quaritch, and the Ruba'iyyat came into 
 circulation once more, but with several alterations and 
 additions by which the number of stanzas was some- 
 what increased beyond the original seventy-five. Most 
 of the changes were, as might have been expected, 
 improvements ; but in some instances the author's 
 taste or caprice was at fault, notably in the first 
 RulxViy. His fastidious desire to avoid anj'thing that 
 seemed baroque or unnatural, or appeared like plagia- 
 rism from other poets, may have influenced him ; but 
 whether from this cause, or from some secret reason 
 that we cannot divine, he sacrificed a fine and novel piece 
 of imagery in his first stanza and replaced it by one of 
 much more ordinary character. If it were from a dis- 
 like to pervert his original too largely, he had no need 
 to be so scrupulous, since he dealt on the whole with 
 the Ruba'iyyat as though he had the licence of absolute 
 authorship, changing, transposing, and manipulating 
 the substance of the Persian quatrains with singular 
 freedom. The vogue of " old Omar" (as he would 
 affectionately call his work) went on increasing, and 
 American readers took it up with eagerness. In those 
 days, the mere mention of Omar Khayyam between 
 two strangers meeting fortuitously acted like a sign of 
 freemasonry and established frequently a bond of 
 friendship. Some curious instances of this have been 
 related. A remarkable feature of the Omar-cult in the 
 United States was the circumstance that sinle indi-
 
 XX BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 viduals bought numbers of copies for gratuitous distri- 
 bution before the book was reprinted in America. Its 
 editions have been relatively numerous, when we con- 
 sider how restricted was the circle of readers who could 
 understand the peculiar beauties of the work. A third 
 edition appeared in 1872, with some further alterations, 
 and this may be regarded as virtually the author's final 
 revision, for it hardly differs at all from the text of the 
 fourth edition, which appeared in 1879. This last formed 
 the first portion of a volume entitled " Rubaiyat of Omar 
 Khayyam ; and the Salaman and Absal of Jami ren- 
 dered into English verse." The Salaman (which had al- 
 ready been printed in separate form in 1856) is a poem 
 chiefly in blank verse, interspersed with various metres 
 (although it is all in one measure in the original) 
 embodying a love-story of mystic significance; for 
 Jami was, unlike Omar Khayyam, a true Sufi, and 
 indeed differed in other respects, his celebrity as a pious 
 Mussulman doctor being equal to his fame as a poet. 
 He lived in the fifteenth century, in a period of literary 
 brilliance and decay ; and the rich exuberance of his 
 poetry, full of far-fetched conceits, involved expres- 
 sions, overstrained imagery, and false taste, offers a 
 strong contrast to the simpler and more forcible lan- 
 guage of Khayyam. There is little use of Arabic in the 
 earlier poet ; he preferred the vernacular speech to 
 the mongrel language which was fashionable among 
 the heirs of the Saracen conquerors ; but J ami's compo- 
 sition is largely embroidered with Arabic.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. XXI 
 
 Mr. Fitzgerald had from his early days been thrown 
 into contact with the Crabbe family; the Reverend 
 George Crabbe (the poet's grandson) was an intimate 
 friend of his, and it was on a visit to Morton Rectory 
 that Fitzgerald died. As we know that friendship has 
 power to warp the judgment, we shall not probably be 
 wrong in supposing that his enthusiastic admiration 
 for Crabbe's poems was not the product of sound, impar- 
 tial criticism. He attempted to reintroduce them to 
 the world by publishing a little volume of " Readings 
 from Crabbe," produced in the last year of his life, but 
 without success. A different fate awaited his "Aga- 
 memnon : a tragedy taken from ^Eschylus," which was 
 first printed privately by him, and afterwards pub- 
 lished with alterations in 1876. It is a very free render- 
 ing from the Greek, and full of a poetical beauty which 
 is but partly assignable to ^Eschylus. Without attain- 
 ing to anything like the celebrity and admiration which 
 have followed Omar Khayyam, the Agamemnon has 
 achieved much more than a succes d'estime. Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald's renderings from the Greek were not confined 
 to this one essay ; he also translated the two OEdipus 
 dramas of Sophocles, but left them unfinished in manu- 
 script till Mr. Elliot Norton had a sight of them about 
 five or six years ago and urged him to complete his 
 work. When this was done, he had them set in type, 
 but only a very few proofs can have been struck off, as 
 it seems that, at least in England, no more than a single 
 copy was sent out by the author. In a similar way he
 
 XXll BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE. 
 
 printed translations of two of Calderon's plays not 
 included in the published " Six Dramas " namely, La 
 Vida es Suefw, and El Magico Prodigioso, (both ranking 
 among the Spaniard's finest work ; ) but they also 
 were withheld from the public and all but half a dozen 
 friends. 
 
 When his old boatman died, about ten years ago, he 
 abandoned his nautical exercises and gave up his yacht 
 for ever. During the last few years of his life, he 
 divided his time between Cambridge, Crabbe's house, 
 and his own home at Little Grange, near Woodbridge, 
 where he received occasional visits from friends and 
 relatives. 
 
 This edition of Mr. Fitzgerald's works is a modest 
 memorial of one of the most modest men who have 
 ever enriched English literature with poetry of distinct 
 and permanent value. His best epitaph is found in 
 Tennyson's "'Tiresias and other poems," published 
 immediately after our author's quiet exit from life, in 
 1883, in the seventy-fifth year of his age. 
 
 JANUARY, 1887. 
 
 > 
 
 k N
 
 ED WA RD FITZGERALD. 
 
 Though still the famous Book of Kings 
 With strange memorial music rings, 
 FirdausVs muse is dead and gone 
 As Kai-kobad and Feridon, 
 And Rustum and his pahlawan 
 Are cold as prehistoric man. 
 
 KHAYYAM still lives : his magic rhyme 
 Is forged of spells that conquer Time, 
 
 The hopes and doubts, the joys and pains, 
 
 TJiat never end while Man remains; 
 
 The sin, the sorrow, and the strife 
 
 Of good and ill in human life ; 
 
 Such themes can ne'er grow stale and old 
 
 Nor can the verse in which they're told, 
 Reflecting as it does each phase 
 
 Of human thought and human ways. 
 The world may roll through ages yet, 
 New stars may rise, old stars may set, 
 But like the grass and like the rain 
 Some things for ever fresh remain, 
 Some poets whom no rust can touch 
 - KHAYYAM and HORACE arc of such. 
 But while we knew the Roman 's tongue, 
 KHAYYAM in vain for us had sung,
 
 XXIV EDWARD FITZGERALD. 
 
 Till One arose on English earth 
 Who to his music gave new birth. 
 Henceforth, so long as English speech 
 Shall through tJie coming ages reach, 
 The name <?/" KHAYYAM will go down 
 With such a glory of renown 
 As ne'er on Eastern poet's brow 
 Has poured its radiance until now. 
 And Who has wrought' this spell of might 
 That brings the hidden gem to light? ' 
 'Twas One who touched his harp, unseen, 
 Who never wished to lift the screen 
 That hid him from the outer throng, 
 But blameless lived and sang his song 
 In modest tones, not over-loud, 
 To shun the plaudits of the crowd. 
 Now that we know him now, at last, 
 When o'er the threshold he hath passed 
 We'll love with love that knows no change 
 The Hermit-bard of Little Grange. 
 
 MlMKAF.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. 
 
 IN reference to the allusion quoted from Nizami (on 
 page 6) to Omar Khayyam's prophecy about his own 
 grave, the following letter from Nishapur will have a 
 considerable interest. The writer is a man of wide 
 reputation as one of the travelling artists of the Illus- 
 trated London News : 
 
 NISHAPUR, 27th October, 1884. 
 DEAR MR. QUARITCH : 
 
 From the association of your name with that of Omar 
 Khayam I feel sure that what I enclose in this letter will 
 be acceptable. The rose-leaves I gathered to-day, grow- 
 ing beside the tomb of the poet at this place, and the 
 seeds are from the same bushes on which the leaves 
 
 I suppose you are aware that I left early last month 
 with Sir Peter Lumsden to accompany the Afghan 
 Boundary Commission in my old capacity as special 
 artist for the Illustrated London Neics. We travelled by 
 way of the Black Sea, Tin 1 is, Baku, and the Caspian, to 
 
 * These seeds were handed over to Mr. Baker, of Kew Gardens, who 
 planted them, and they have grown up successfully, but as yet they have 
 not produced flowers.
 
 xxvi OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. 
 
 Tehran ; from that place we have been marching east- 
 ward for nearly a month now, and we reached Nishapnr 
 this morning. 
 
 For some days past, as we marched along, I have been 
 making inquiries regarding Omar Khayam and Nish- 
 apnr; I wanted to know if the house he lived in still 
 existed, or if any spot was yet associated with his name. 
 It would seem that the only recognised memorial now 
 remaining of him is his tomb. Our Mehmandar, or 
 " (luest-Conductor," while the Afghan Boundary Com- 
 mission is on Persian territory it is the G-uest of the 
 Shah, and the Mehmandar is his representative, who 
 sees that all our wants are attended to, appears to be 
 familiar with the poet's name, and says that his works 
 are still read and admired. The Mehmandar said he 
 knew the tomb, and promised to be our guide when we 
 reached Nishapur. We have just made the pilgrimage 
 to the spot; it is about two miles south of the pres- 
 ent Nishapur ; so we had to ride, and Sir Peter, who 
 takes an interest in the matter, was one of the party. 
 We found the ground nearly all the way covered with 
 mounds, and the soil mixed with fragments of pottery, 
 sure indications of former habitations. As we neared 
 the tomb, long ridges of earth could be seen, which were 
 no doubt the remains of the walls of the old city of 
 Nishapur. To the east of the tomb is a large square 
 mound of earth, which is supposed to be the site of the 
 Ark, or Citadel of the original city. As we rode along, 
 the blue dome, which the Mehmandar had pointed out 
 on the way as the tomb, had a very imposing appear- 
 ance, and its importance improved as we neared it ; 
 this will be better understood by stating that city 
 walls, houses, and almost all structures in that part of 
 Persia, are built of mud. The blue dome, as well as its 
 
 l
 
 S* 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. xxvii 
 
 size, produced in my mind, as we went towards it, a 
 great satisfaction ; it was pleasing to think that the 
 countrymen of Omar Khayam held him in such high 
 estimation as to erect so fine a monument, as well as to 
 preserve it, this last being rarely done in the East, 
 to his memory. If the poet was so honoured in his own 
 country, it was little to be wondered at that his fame 
 should have spread so rapidly in the lands of the West. 
 This I thought, but there was a slight disappointment 
 in store for me. At last we reached the tomb, and 
 found its general arrangements were on a plan I was 
 familiar with in India ; whoever has visited the Taj at 
 Agra, or any of the large Mohammedan tombs of Hin- 
 dostan, will easily understand the one at Nishapur. 
 The monument stands in a space enclosed by a mud 
 wall, and the ground in front is laid out as a garden, 
 with walks. The tomb at Nishapur, with all its sur- 
 roundings, is in a very rude condition ; it never was a 
 work which could claim merit for its architecture, and 
 although it is kept so far in repair, it has still a very 
 decayed and neglected appearance. Even the blue 
 dome, which impressed me in the distance, I found on 
 getting near to it was in a ruinous state from large por- 
 tions of the enamelled plaster having fallen off. Instead 
 of the marble and the red stone of the Taj at Nish- 
 apur, with the exception of some enamelled tiles pro- 
 ducing a pattern round the base of the dome, and also 
 in the spandrils of the door and windows, there we 
 find only bricks and plaster. The surrounding wall of 
 the enclosure was of crumbling mud, and could be 
 easily jumped over at any place. There is a rude 
 entrance by which we went in and walked to the front 
 of the tomb ; all along I had been under the notion that 
 the whole structure was the tomb of Omar Khayam ;
 
 xxviii OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. 
 
 and now came the disenchantment. The place turned 
 out to be an Imamzadah, or the tomb of the Son of an 
 Imam. The Son of an Imam inherits his sanctity from 
 his father, and his place of burial becomes a holy place 
 where pilgrims go to pray. The blue dome is over the 
 tomb of such a person, who may have been a brute of 
 the worst kind, that would not have affected his 
 sanctity, instead of the poet, whom we reverence for 
 the qualities which belonged to himself. When we had 
 ascended the platform, about three feet high, on which 
 the tomb stood, the Mehmandar turned to the left, and 
 in a recess formed by three arches and a very rude roof, 
 which seemed to have been added to the corner of the 
 Imamzadah, pointed to the tomb of Omar Khayam. 
 The discovery of a " Poet's Corner" at Nishapur, natu- 
 rally recalled Westminster Abbey to my mind and 
 revived my spirits from the depression produced by 
 finding that the principal tomb was not that of the 
 Poet. The monument over the tomb is an oblong mass 
 of brick covered with plaster, and without ornament, 
 the plaster falling off in places; on this and on the 
 plaster of the recess are innumerable scribblings in 
 Persian character. Some were, no doubt, names, for 
 the British John Smith has not an exclusive tendency 
 in this respect ; but many of them were continued 
 through a number of lines, and I guessed they were 
 poetry, and most probably quotations from the Kubai- 
 yat. Although the " Poet's Corner " was in rather a 
 dilapidated state, still it must have been repaired at 
 no very distant date ; and this shows that some atten- 
 tion has been paid to it, and that the people of Nisha- 
 pur have not quite forgotten Omar Khayam. 
 
 The Imamzadah this word, which means Son of an 
 Imam, applies to the person buried as well as to the
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. xxix 
 
 tomb was Mohammed Marook, brother of the Imam 
 Reza, whose tomb at Meshed is considered so sacred by 
 the Shias; the Imam Reza was the eighth Imam, and 
 died in 818 ; this gives us an approximate date for his 
 brother, and it is, if I mistake not, a couple of centuries 
 before the time of Omar Khayam; and the Imamza- 
 dah here I mean the building would have been 
 erected, most probably, about that number of years be- 
 fore the poet required his resting place. Behind the 
 Imamzadah is a Kubberstaii, or " Region of Graves," and 
 the raised platform in front of the tomb contains in its 
 rough pavement a good many small tonib-stones, shew- 
 ing that people are buried there, and that the place had 
 been in the past a general grave-yard. All this is owing 
 to the hereditary sanctity which belongs to the Son of an 
 Imam, arid we are perhaps indebted to Mohammed Ma- 
 rook, no matter what his character may have been, for 
 the preservation of the site of Omar Khayam's burial 
 place ; the preservation of the one necessarily preserved 
 the other. 
 
 In front of the Imamzadah is the garden, with some 
 very old and one or two large trees, but along the edge 
 of the platform in front of Omar Khayam's tomb I 
 found some rose bushes ; it was too late in the season 
 for the roses, but a few hips were still remaining, and 
 one or two of these I secured, as well as the leaves, 
 some of which are here enclosed for you; I hope you 
 will be able to grow them in England, they will have 
 an interest, as in all probability they are the particular 
 kind of roses Omar Khayam was so fond of watching 
 as he pondered and composed his verses. 
 
 It may be worth adding that there is also at Xishapur 
 the tomb of another poet who lived about the same time 
 as Omar Khayam, his name was Ferid ed din Attar ;
 
 xxx OMAR KHAYYAM'S GRAVE. 
 
 according to Vambery, he was " a great mystic and 
 philosopher. He wrote a work called ' Mantik et Teyr, 
 the Logic of Birds.' In this the feathered creatures 
 are made to contend in a curious way on the causes of 
 existence, and the Source of Truth. ' Hudhud,' the All- 
 Knowing magical bird of Solomon, is introduced, as the 
 Teacher of Birds ; and also Simurg, the Phoanix of the 
 Orientals, and Symbol of the Highest Light." In this 
 it is understood that the Birds represent humanity, 
 Hudhud is the Prophet, and the Simurg stands for 
 Deity. This tomb I shall not have time to visit. An- 
 other three marches take us to Meshed, and then we 
 shall be close to the Afghan frontier. I am sending 
 a sketch of Omar Khayam's tomb to the Illustrated 
 London News. 
 
 Believe me 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 WILLIAM SIMPSON. 
 
 The sketch above referred to appears in the present volume 
 as the frontispiece to the Ruba'iyyat.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM, 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OE PERSIA.
 
 OMAE KHAYYAM, 
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OP PERSIA. 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM was born at Naishapur in Kho- 
 rasan in the latter half of our Eleventh, and died 
 within the First Quarter of our Twelfth Century. 
 The slender Story of his Life is curiously twined about 
 that of two other very considerable Figures in their 
 Time and Country : one of whom tells the Story of all 
 Three. This was Nizam ul Mulk, Vizyr to Alp Arslan 
 the Son, and Malik Shah the Grandson, of Toghrul Beg 
 the Tartar, who had wrested Persia from the feeble 
 Successor of Mahmud the Great, and founded that Sel- 
 jukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the 
 Crusades. This Nizam ul Mulk, in his Waslyat or 
 Testament which he wrote and left as a Memorial for 
 future Statesmen relates the following, as quoted in 
 the Calcutta Review, No. 59, from Mirkhond's History 
 of the Assassins : 
 
 " ' One of the greatest of the wise men of Khorassan 
 ' was the Imam Mowaffak of Naishapur, a man highly 
 ' honoured and reverenced, may God rejoice his soul ; 
 ' his illustrious years exceeded eighty-five, and it was 
 
 &
 
 OMAE KHAYYAM 
 
 i the universal belief that every boy who read the Koran 
 ' or studied the traditions in his presence, would assur- 
 ' edly attain to honour and happiness. For this cause 
 ' did my father send me from Tiis to Naishapiir with 
 ' Abd-us-samad, the doctor of law, that I might employ 
 ' myself in study and learning under the guidance of 
 1 that illustrious teacher. Towards me he ever turned 
 ' an eye of favour and kindness, and as his pupil I felt 
 ' for him extreme affection and devotion, so that I passed 
 ' four years in his service. When I first came there, I 
 1 found two other pupils of mine own age newly arrived, 
 ' Hakim Omar Khayyam, and the ill-fated Ben Sabbah. 
 ' Both were endowed with sharpness of wit and the 
 ' highest natural powers ; and we three formed a close 
 ' friendship together. When the Imam rose from his 
 ' lectures, they used to join me, and we repeated to each 
 ' other the lessons we had heard. Now Omar was a 
 ' native of Naishapiir, while Hasan Ben Sabbah's father 
 ' was one All, a man of austere life and practice, but 
 
 heretical in his creed and doctrine. One day Hasan 
 ' said to me and to Khayyam, ' It is a universal belief 
 i that the pupils of the Imam Mo waff ak will attain to 
 ' fortune. Now, even if we all do not attain thereto, 
 ' without doubt one of us will ; what then shall be our 
 ' mutual pledge and bond ? ' We answered, ' Be it what 
 ' you please.' ' Well/ lie said, ' let us make a vow, that 
 ' to whomsoever this fortune falls, he shall share it 
 ' equally with the rest, and reserve no pre-eminence 
 
 for himself.' ' Be it so,' we both replied, and on those
 
 THE ASTRONOMEE-POET OF PERSIA. 3 
 
 
 
 4 terms we mutually pledged our words. Years rolled 
 ' on, and I went from Khorassan to Transoxiana, and 
 1 wandered to Grhazni and Cabul ; and when I returned, 
 i I was invested with office, and rose to be adminis- 
 i trator of affairs during the Sultanate of Sultan Alp 
 ( Arslan.' 
 
 " He goes on to state, that years passed by, and both 
 his old school-friends found him out, and came and 
 claimed a share in his good fortune, according to the 
 school-day vow. The Vizier was generous and kept 
 his word. Hasan demanded a place in the government, 
 which the Sultan granted at the Vizier's request ; but 
 discontented with a gradual rise, he plunged into the 
 maze of intrigue of an oriental court, and failing in a 
 base attempt to supplant his benefactor, he was dis- 
 graced and fell. After many mishaps and wanderings, 
 Hasan became the head of the Persian sect of the 
 IsmaiUans, a party of fanatics who had long mur- 
 mured in obscurity, but rose to an evil eminence under 
 the guidance of his strong and evil will. In A. D. 1090, 
 he seized the castle of Alamut, in the province of Rud- 
 bar, which lies in the mountainous tract south of the 
 Caspian Sea; and it was from this mountain home he 
 obtained that evil celebrity among the Crusaders as the 
 OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS, and spread terror 
 through the Mohammedan world ; and it is yet disputed 
 whether the word Assassin, which they have left in the 
 language of modern Europe as their dark memorial, 
 is derived from the hashish, or opiate of hemp-leaves
 
 4 OMAR KHAYYAM, 
 
 (the Indian bhang), with which they maddened them- 
 selves to the sullen pitch of oriental desperation, or 
 from the name of the founder of the dynasty, whom we 
 have seen in his quiet collegiate days at Naishapur. 
 One of the countless victims of the Assassin's dagger 
 was Nizam-ul-Mulk himself, the old school-boy friend. 1 
 
 " Omar Khayyam also came to the Vizier to claim 
 the share ; but not to ask for title or office. ' The 
 i greatest boon you can confer on me,' he said, l is to 
 ' let me live in a corner under the shadow of your for- 
 ' tune, to spread wide the advantages of Science, and 
 'pray for your long life and prosperity.' The Vizier 
 tells us, that, when he found Omar was really sincere 
 in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted 
 him a yearly pension of 1200 mithMls of gold, from 
 the treasury of Naishapur. 
 
 " At Naishapur thus lived and died Omar Khayyam, 
 ' busied,' adds the Vizier, ' in winning knowledge of 
 ' every kind, and especially in Astronomy, wherein he 
 ' attained to a very high pre-eminence. Under the 
 ' Sultanate of Malik Shah, he came to Merv, and ob- 
 ' tained great praise for his proficiency in science, and 
 ' the Sultan showered favours upon him.' 
 
 1 Some of Omar's Rubaiyat warns us of the danger of Greatness, 
 the instability of Fortune, and while advocating Charity to all 
 Men, recommending us to be too intimate with none. Attar 
 makes Nizam-ul-Mulk use the very words of his friend Omar 
 [Rub. xxviii.], "When Nizam-ul-Mulk was in the Agony (of 
 Death; he said, ' Oh God! I am passing away in the hand of the 
 Wind.' "
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 5 
 
 " When Malik Shah determined to reform the calen- 
 dar, Omar was one of the eight learned men employed 
 to do it ; the result was the Jdluli era (so called from 
 Jalal-u-din, one of the king's names) ' a computation 
 of time,' says Gibbon, ' which surpasses the Julian, and 
 approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style.' He 
 is also the author of some astronomical tables, entitled 
 Ziji-Malikshahi," and the French have lately repub- 
 lished and translated an Arabic Treatise of his on 
 Algebra. 
 
 " His Takhallus or poefocal name (Khayyam) signifies 
 a Tent-maker, and he is said to have at one time exer- 
 cised that trade, perhaps before Nizam-ul-Mulk's gen- 
 erosity raised him to independence. Many Persian 
 poets similarly derived their names from their occupa- 
 tions ; thus we have Attar, ' a druggist/ Assar, ' an oil 
 presser/ &C. 1 Omar himself alludes to his name in the 
 following whimsical lines : 
 
 ' Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science, 
 Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned; 
 The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life, 
 And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing ! ' 
 
 " We have only one more anecdote to give of k his 
 Life, and that relates to the close ; it is told in the 
 anonymous preface which is sometimes prefixed to 
 his poems; it has been printed in the Persian in the 
 
 1 Though all these, like our Smiths, Archers, Millers, Fletchers, 
 &c., may simply retain the Surname of an hereditary calling.
 
 6 OMAR KHAYYAM, 
 
 appendix to Hyde's Veterum Persarum Religio, p. 529 ; 
 and D'Herbelot alludes to it in his Bibliotheque, under 
 KTiiam : ' 
 
 " ' It is written in the chronicles of the ancients 
 ' that this King of the Wise, Omar Khayyam, died at 
 ' Naishapur in the year of the Hegira, 517 (A. D. 1123) ; 
 'in science he was unrivalled, the very paragon of 
 1 his age. Khwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was 
 ' one of his pupils, relates the following story : ' I often 
 ' used to hold conversations with my teacher, Omar 
 ' Khayyam, in a garden ; and one day he said to me, 
 ' ' My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind 
 ' may scatter roses over it.' I wondered at the words 
 1 he spake, but I knew that his were no idle words. 2 
 ' Years after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, 
 ' I went to his final resting-place, and lo ! it was 
 ' just outside a garden, and trees laden with fruit 
 ' stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and 
 1 dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so as the stone 
 ' was hidden under them.' " 
 
 1 " Philosophe Musulmaii qui a veeu en Odetir de Saintete vers 
 la Fin du premier et le Commencement du second Siecle," no part 
 of which, except the "Philosophe," can apply to our Khayyam. 
 
 - The Eashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot, con- 
 sisted in being so opposed to those in the Koran: "No Man 
 knows where he shall die." This Story of Omar reminds me of 
 another so naturally and, when one remembers how wide of his 
 humble mark the noble sailor aimed so pathetically told by 
 Captain Cook not by Doctor Hawkesworth in his Second 
 Voyage. When leaving Ulietea, "Oreo's last request was for me 
 to return. When lie saw he could not obtain that promise, he
 
 THE ASTBONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 7 
 
 Thus far without fear of Trespass from the Cal- 
 cutta Review. The writer of it, on reading in India 
 this story of Omar's Grave, was reminded, he says, 
 of Cicero's Account of finding Archimedes' Tomb at 
 Syracuse, buried in grass and weeds. I think Thor- 
 waldsen desired to have roses grow over him ; a wish 
 religiously fulfilled for him to the present day, I be- 
 lieve. However, to return to Omar. 
 
 Though the Sultan " shower'd Favours upon him," 
 Omar's Epicurean Audacity of Thought and Speech 
 caused him to be regarded askance in his own Time 
 and Country. He is said to have been especially hated 
 and dreaded by the Sufis, whose Practice he ridiculed, 
 and whose Faith amounts to little more than his own 
 when stript of the Mysticism and formal recognition of 
 Islamism under which Omar would not hide. Their 
 Poets, including Hafiz, who are (with the exception of 
 Firdausi) the most considerable in Persia, borrowed 
 largely, indeed, of Omar's material, but turning it to a 
 mystical Use more convenient to Themselves and the 
 People they addressed; a People quite as quick of 
 Doubt as of Belief; as keen of Bodily Sense as of 
 
 asked the name of my Martti Burying-place. As strange a ques- 
 tion as this was, I hesitated not a moment to tell him ' Stepney,' 
 the parish in which I live when in London. I was made to repeat 
 it several times over till they could pronounce it ; and then ' Step- 
 ney Marai no Toote ' was echoed through a hundred mouths at 
 once. I afterwards found the same question had been put to Mr. 
 Forster by a man on shore ; but he gave a different, and indeed 
 more proper answer, by saying, 'No man who used the sea could 
 say where he should be buried.' "
 
 Intellectual; and delighting in a cloudy composition 
 of both, in which they could float luxuriously between 
 Heaven and Earth, and this "World and the Next, on 
 the wings of a poetical expression, that might serve 
 indifferently for either. Omar was too honest of Heart 
 as well as of Head for this. Having failed (however 
 mistakenly) of finding any Providence but Destiny, 
 and any Wofld but This, he set about making the most 
 of it; preferring rather to soothe the Soul through the 
 Senses into Acquiescence with Things as he saw them, 
 than to perplex it with vain disquietude after what 
 they might be. It has been seen, however, that his 
 Worldly Ambition was not exorbitant; and he very 
 likely takes a humorous or perverse pleasure in exalt- 
 ing the gratification of Sense above that of the Intellect, 
 in which he must have taken great delight, although it 
 failed to answer the Questions in which he, in common 
 with all men, was most vitally interested. 
 
 For whatever Reason, however, Omar, as before 
 said, has never been popular in his own Country, and 
 therefore has been but scantily transmitted abroad. 
 The MSS. of his Poems, mutilated beyond the average 
 Casualties of Oriental Transcription, are so rare in the 
 East as scarce to have reacht Westward at all, in spite 
 of all the acquisitions of Arms and Science. There is 
 no copy at the India House, none at the Bibliotheque 
 Nationale of Paris. We know but of one in England : 
 No. 140 of the Ouseley MSS. at the Bodleian, written 
 at Shiraz, A. n. 1460. This contains but 1">8 Rubaiyat. 
 
 N
 
 \5 
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. V) 
 
 One in the Asiatic Society's Library at Calcutta (of 
 which we have a Copy), contains (and yet incomplete) 
 516, though swelled to that by all kinds of Repetition 
 and Corruption. So Von Hammer speaks of his Copy 
 as containing about 200, while Dr. Sprenger catalogues 
 the Lucknow MS. at double that number. 1 The Scribes, 
 too, of the Oxford and Calcutta MSS. seem to do their 
 Work under a sort of Protest ; each beginning with a 
 Tetrastich (whether genuine or not), taken out of its 
 alphabetical order ; the Oxford with one of Apology ; 
 the Calcutta with one of Expostulation, supposed (says 
 a Notice prefixed to the MS.) to have arisen from a 
 Dream, in which Omar's mother asked about his future 
 fate. It may be rendered thus : 
 
 "Oh Thou who burn'st in Heart for those who burn 
 " In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn ; 
 ' ' How long be crying, ' Mercy on them, God ! ' 
 "Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn ?" 
 
 The Bodleian Quatrain pleads Pantheism by way of 
 Justification. 
 
 " If I myself upon a looser Creed 
 "Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good deed, 
 " Let this one thing for my Atonement plead : 
 " That One for Two I never did mis-read." 
 
 The Reviewer, to whom I owe the Particulars of 
 Omar's Life, concludes his Review by comparing him 
 
 1 " Since this Paper was written " (adds the Reviewer in a note), 
 " we have met with a Copy of a very rare Edition, printed at Cal- 
 cutta in 1836. This contains 438 Tetrastichs, with an Appendix 
 containing 54 others not found in some MSS."
 
 10 OMAR KHAYYAM, 
 
 with Lucretius, both as to natural Temper and Genius, 
 and as acted upon by the Circumstances in which he 
 lived. Both indeed were men of subtle, strong, and 
 cultivated Intellect, fine Imagination, and Hearts pas- 
 sionate for Truth and Justice ; who justly revolted 
 from their Country's false Religion, and false, or 
 foolish, Devotion to it ; but who fell short of replacing 
 what they subverted by such better Hope as others, 
 with no better Revelation to guide them, had yet made 
 a Law to themselves. Lucretius, indeed, with such 
 material as Epicurus furnished, satisfied himself with 
 the theory of a vast machine fortuitously constructed, 
 and acting by a Law that implied no Legislator and 
 so composing himself into a Stoical rather than Epicu- 
 rean severity of Attitude, sat down to contemplate the 
 mechanical Drama of the Universe which he was part 
 Actor in ; himself and all about him (as in his own 
 sublime description of the Roman Theatre) discoloured 
 with the lurid reflex of the Curtain suspended between 
 the Spectator and the Sun. Omar, more desperate, 
 or more careless of any so complicated System as 
 resulted in nothing but hopeless Necessity, flung his 
 own Genius and Learning with a bitter or humorous 
 jest into the general Ruin which their insufficient 
 glimpses only served to reveal ; and, pretending sen- 
 sual pleasure as the serious purpose of Life, only 
 diverted himself with speculative problems of Deity, 
 Destiny, Matter and Spirit, Good and Evil, and other 
 such questions, easier to start than to run down,
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 11 
 
 and the pursuit of which becomes a very weary sport 
 at last ! 
 
 With regard to the present Translation. The original 
 Rubaiyat (as, missing an Arabic Guttural, these Tetra- 
 stichs are more musically called) are independent Stan- 
 zas, consisting each of four Lines of equal, though 
 varied, Prosody; sometimes all rhyming, but oftener 
 (as here imitated) the third line a blank. Sometimes 
 as in the Greek Alcaic, where the penultimate line 
 seems to lift and suspend the Wave that falls over in 
 the last. As usual with such kind of Oriental Verse, 
 the Rubaiyat follow one another according to Alpha- 
 betic Rhyme a strange succession of Grave and Gay. 
 Those here selected are strung into something of an 
 Eclogue, with perhaps a less than equal proportion of 
 the " Drink and make-merry," which (genuine or not) 
 recurs over-frequently in the Original. Either way, 
 the Result is sad enough : saddest perhaps when most 
 ostentatiously merry : more apt to move Sorrow than 
 Anger toward the old Teiitmaker, who, after vainly 
 endeavouring to unshackle his Steps from Destiny, and 
 to catch some authentic Glimpse of TO-MORROW, fell 
 back upon TO-DAY (which has outlasted so many To- 
 morrows !) as the only Ground he got to stand upon, 
 however momentarily slipping from under his Feet.
 
 I 
 
 [From the Third Edition.] 
 
 While the second Edition of this version of Omar 
 was preparing, Monsieur Nicolas, French Consul at 
 Resht, published a very careful and very good Edi- 
 tion of the Text, from a lithograph copy at Teheran, 
 comprising 464 Rubaiyat, with translation and notes 
 of his own. 
 
 Mons. Nicolas, whose Edition has reminded me of 
 several things, and instructed me in others, does not 
 consider Omar to be the material Epicurean that I have 
 literally taken him for, but a Mystic, shadowing the 
 Deity under the figure of Wine, Wine-bearer, &c., as 
 Hafiz is supposed to do ; in short, a Sufi Poet like Hafiz 
 and the rest. 
 
 I cannot see reason to alter my opinon, formed as 
 it was more than a dozen years ago when Omar was 
 first shown me by one to whom I am indebted for all I 
 know of Oriental, and very much of other, literature. 
 He admired Omar's Genius so much, that he would 
 gladly have adopted any such Interpretation of his 
 meaning as Mons. Nicolas' if he could. 1 That he could 
 not, appears by his Paper in the Calcutta Review 
 already so largely quoted; in which he argues from 
 the Poems, themselves, as well as from what records 
 remain of the Poet's Life. 
 
 1 Perhaps would have edited the Poems himself some years ago. 
 He may now as little approve of my Version on one side, as of 
 Mons. Nicolas' Theory on the other.
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 13 
 
 And if more were needed to disprove Mons. Nicolas' 
 Theory, there is the Biographical Notice which he 
 himself has drawn up in direct contradiction to the 
 Interpretation of the Poems given in his Notes. (See 
 pp. 13-14 of his Preface.) Indeed I hardly knew poor 
 Omar was so far gone till his Apologist informed me. 
 For here we see that, whatever were the Wine that 
 Hafiz drank and sang, the veritable Juice of the Grape 
 it was which Omar used, not only when carousing with 
 his. friends, but (says Mous. Nicolas) in order to excite 
 himself to that pitch of Devotion which others reached 
 by cries and "hurlemens." And yet, whenever Wine, 
 Wine-bearer, &c., occur in the Text which is often 
 enough Mons. Nicolas carefully annotates " Dieu," 
 " La Divinite," &c. : so carefully indeed that one is 
 tempted to think that he was indoctrinated by the Sufi 
 with whom he read the Poems. (Note to Rub. ii. p. 8.) 
 A Persian would naturally wish to vindicate a dis- 
 tinguished Countryman ; and a Siifi to enrol him in 
 his own sect, which already comprises all the chief 
 Poets of Persia. 
 
 What historical Authority has Mons. Nicolas to show 
 that Omar gave himself up " avec passion a Fetude de 
 la philosophie des Soufis"? (Preface, p. xiii.) The 
 Doctrines of Pantheism, Materialism, Necessity, &c., 
 were not peculiar to the Sufi ; nor to Lucretius before 
 them ; nor to Epicurus before him ; probably the very 
 original Irreligion of Thinking men from the first; 
 and very likely to be the spontaneous growth of a
 
 14 
 
 OMAK KHAYYAM, 
 
 Philosopher living in an Age of social and political 
 barbarism, under shadow of one of the Two and 
 Seventy Religions supposed to divide the world. Von 
 Hammer (according to Sprenger's Oriental Catalogue) 
 speaks of Omar as " a Free-thinker, and a great oppo- 
 nent of Sujism ; " perhaps because, while holding much 
 of their Doctrine, he would not pretend to any incon- 
 sistent severity of morals. Sir W. Ouseley has written 
 a note to something of the same effect on the fly-leaf 
 of the Bodleian MS. And in two Rubaiyat of Mons. 
 Nicolas' own Edition Siif and Sufi are both dispara- 
 gingly named. 
 
 No doubt many of these Quatrains seem unaccount- 
 able unless mystically interpreted ; but many more as 
 unaccountable unless literally. Were the Wine spiritual, 
 for instance, how wash the Body with it when dead f 
 Why make cups of the dead clay to be filled with 
 "La Divinite" by some succeeding Mystic? Mons. 
 Nicolas himself is puzzled by some " bizarres " and 
 u trop Orientales " allusions and images "d'unesen- 
 sualite quelquefois revoltante" indeed which "les 
 convenances " do not permit him to translate ; but still 
 which the reader cannot but refer to "La DiviniteV' 1 
 
 1 A Note to Quatrain 234 admits that, however clear the mystical 
 meaning of such Images must be to Europeans, they are not quoted 
 without "rougissant" even by laymen in Persia "Quant aiix 
 termes de teiidresse qui commencent ce quatrain, comme taut 
 d'autres dans ce recueil, nos lecteurs, habitues maintenaiit a 
 I'etrangete des expressions si souvent employes par Klieyam pour 
 rendre ses pensees sur 1'amour divin, et a la singularite des images
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 15 
 
 No doubt also many of the Quatrains in the Teheran, 
 as in the Calcutta, Copies, are spurious ; such EuMiydt 
 being the common form of Epigram in Persia. But 
 this, at best, tells as much one way as another ; nay, 
 the Sufi, who may be considered the Scholar and Man 
 of Letters in Persia, would be far more likely than the 
 careless Epicure to interpolate what favours his own 
 view of the Poet. I observe that very few of the more 
 mystical Quatrains are in the Bodleian MS., which must 
 be one of the oldest, as dated at Shiraz, A. H. 865, A. D. 
 1460. And this, I think, especially distinguishes Omar 
 (I cannot help calling him by his no, not Christian 
 familiar name) from all other Persian Poets: That, 
 whereas with them the Poet is lost in his Song, the 
 Man in ADegory and Abstraction ; we seem to have 
 the Man the Bonhomme Omar himself, with all his 
 Humours and Passions, as frankly before us as if we 
 were really at Table with him, after the Wine had gone 
 round. 
 
 I must say that I, for one, never wholly believed in 
 the Mysticism of Hafiz. It does not appear there was 
 any danger in holding and singing Sufi Pantheism, so 
 long as the Poet made his Salaam to Mohammed at the 
 beginning and end of his Song. Under such conditions 
 
 trop orientales, d'une sensualite quelqiiefois revoltante, n'auront 
 pas de peine a se persuader qiril s'agit de la Divinite, bien que 
 eette conviction soit vivement discutee par les moullahs musul- 
 mans, et meme par beaucoup de laiqties, qni rougissent veritable- 
 ment d'une pareille licence de leur compatriote a 1'egard des 
 choses spirituelles." 

 
 10 OMAR KHAYYAM, 
 
 Jelaluddin, Jami, Attar, and others sang ; using Wine 
 and Beauty indeed as Images to illustrate, not as a 
 Mask to hide, the Divinity they were celebrating. Per- 
 haps some Allegory less liable to mistake or abuse had 
 been better among so inflammable a People : much 
 more so when, as some think with Hafiz and Omar, the 
 abstract is not only likened to, but identified with, the 
 sensual Image ; hazardous, if not to the Devotee him- 
 self, yet to his weaker Brethren ; and worse for the 
 Profane in proportion as the Devotion of the Initiated 
 grew warmer. And all for what? To be tantalized 
 with Images of sensual enjoyment which must be 
 renounced if one would approximate a God, who 
 according to the Doctrine, is Sensual Matter as well as 
 Spirit, and into whose Universe one expects uncon- 
 sciously to merge after Death, without hope of any 
 posthumous Beatitude in another world to compensate 
 for all one's self-denial in this. Lucretius' blind Divinity 
 certainly merited, and probably got, as much self-sac- 
 rifice as this of the Sufi; and the burden of. Omar's 
 Song if not "Let us eat " is assuredly " Let us 
 drink, for To-morrow we die ! " And if Hafiz meant 
 quite otherwise by a similar language, he surely mis- 
 calculated when he devoted his Life and Genius to so 
 equivocal a Psalmody as, from his Day to this, has been 
 said and sung by any rather than spiritual Worshippers. 
 However, as there is some traditional presumption, 
 and certainly the opinion of some learned men, in 
 favour of Omar's being a Sufi and even something of
 
 THE ASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA. 17 
 
 a Saint those who please may so interpret his Wine 
 and Cnp-bearer. On the other hand, as there is far 
 more historical certainty of his being a Philosopher, of 
 scientific Insight and Ability far beyond that of the 
 Age and Country he lived in ; of such moderate worldly 
 Ambition as becomes a Philosopher, and such moderate 
 wants as rarely satisfy a Debauchee ; other readers may 
 be content to believe with me that, while the Wine 
 Omar celebrates is simply the Juice of the Grape, he 
 bragg'd more than he drank of it, in very defiance 
 perhaps of that Spiritual Wine which left its Votaries 
 sunk in Hypocrisy or Disgust.
 
 TOMB OF OMAR KHAYYAM, THE PERSIAN POET, AT NAISHAPUR.
 
 RUBAIYAT 
 
 OF 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM OF NA1SHAPUR.
 
 20 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 AVAKE ! for Morning in the Bowl of Night 
 Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: 
 And Lo ! the Hunter of the East has caught 
 The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light. 
 
 II 
 
 Dreaming, when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky, 
 I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, 
 
 "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup 
 " Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry." 
 
 Ill 
 
 And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before 
 The Tavern shouted " Open then the Door ! 
 
 " You know how little while we have to stay, 
 "And, once departed, may return no more." 
 
 IV 
 
 Now, the New Year reviving old Desires, 
 The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, 
 
 Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough 
 Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 21 
 
 WAKE ! For the S^m who scattered into fligJit 
 The Stars before him from the Field of Night, 
 
 Drives Night along with them from Heavn, and strikes 
 The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light. 
 
 II 
 
 Before the phantom of False morning died, 
 Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, 
 " When all the Temple is prepared within, 
 " Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside ? " 
 
 A nd, as the Cock crew, those who stood before 
 The Tavern sJiouted "Open then the Door ! 
 
 " You know how little while we have to stay, 
 "And, once departed, may return no more." 
 
 IV 
 
 Now the New Year reviving old Desires, 
 The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, 
 
 Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the ttoiigh 
 Puts out, and Jesus from tlic ground suspires.
 
 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose, 
 
 And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows ; 
 
 But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, 
 And still a Garden by the Water blows. 
 
 VI 
 
 And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine 
 High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! 
 
 "Red Wine !" the Nightingale cries to the Rose 
 That yellow Cheek of her's to'incarnadine. 
 
 VII 
 
 Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring 
 The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: 
 
 The Bird of Time has but a little way 
 To fly and Lo ! the Bird is on the Wing.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OP OMAR KHAYYAM. 23 
 
 Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, 
 
 And Jamshyd 's Sev'n-ringd Cup where no one knows, 
 
 But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, 
 A nd many a Garden by the Water blows. 
 
 VI 
 
 And David's lips are lockt ; but in divine 
 High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! 
 "Red Wine ! " the Nightingale cries to the Rose 
 That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine. 
 
 VII 
 
 Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring 
 Your Winter- garment of Repentance fling : 
 
 The Bird of Time has but a little way 
 To flutter and the Bird is on the Wing. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Whether at Naishdpiir or Babylon, 
 Whether tJie Cup with sweet or bitter run, 
 
 The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, 
 The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. 

 
 26 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Editiou. 
 
 XII 
 
 " How sweet is mortal Sovranty ! " think some : 
 Others " How blest the Paradise to come !" 
 
 Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest ; 
 Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum ! 
 
 XIII 
 
 Look to the Rose that blows about us " Lo, 
 " Laughing," she says, " into the World I blow : 
 
 "At once the silken Tassel of my Purse 
 "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." 
 
 XIV 
 
 The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon 
 Turns Ashes or it prospers; and anon, 
 
 Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face 
 Lighting a little Hour or two is gone. 
 
 XV 
 
 And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, 
 And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, 
 
 Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd 
 As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 
 XIII 
 
 Some for the Glories of this World ; and some 
 Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; 
 
 Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, 
 Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum ! 
 
 XIV 
 
 Look to the blowing Rose about us "Lo, 
 
 " Laughing," she says, " into the world I blow, 
 
 "At once the silken tassel of my Purse 
 " Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." 
 
 XV 
 
 And those who husbanded the Golden grain, 
 And those who filing it to the winds like Rain, 
 
 Alike to no such aureate Earth are turrid 
 As, buried once, Men want dug up again. 
 
 XVI 
 
 The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon 
 Turns Ashes or it prospers ; and anon, 
 
 Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, 
 Lighting a little hour or two was gone. 
 
 27
 
 24 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Editioii. 
 
 VIII 
 
 And look a thousand Blossoms with the Day 
 Woke and a thousand scatter'd into Clay: 
 
 And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose 
 Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away. 
 
 IX 
 
 But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot 
 Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot : 
 
 Let Rustum lay about him as he will, 
 Or Hatim Tai cry Supper heed them not. 
 
 x 
 
 With me along some Strip of Herbage strown 
 That just divides the desert from the sown, 
 
 Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known, 
 And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne. 
 
 XI 
 
 Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, 
 A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse and Thou 
 
 Beside me singing in the Wilderness 
 And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OP OMAR KHAYYAM. 25 
 IX 
 
 Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say ; 
 Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday ? 
 
 And this first Summer month that brings the Rose 
 Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobdd away. 
 
 X 
 
 Well, let it take them ! What have we to do 
 With Kaikobdd the Great, or Kaikhosru ? 
 
 Let Zdl and Rustum bluster as they will, 
 Or Hdtim call to Supper heed not you. 
 
 XI 
 
 With me along the strip of Herbage strewn 
 That just divides the desert from the sown, 
 
 Wliere name of Slave and Sultan is forgot 
 And Peace to MaJimud on his golden Throne ! 
 
 XII 
 
 A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, 
 
 A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou 
 
 Beside me singing in the Wilderness 
 Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow !
 
 28 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai 
 
 Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, 
 
 How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp 
 Abode his Hour or two, and went his way. 
 
 XVII 
 
 They say the Lion and the Lizard keep 
 The Courts where Jamshy'd gloried and drank deep 
 And Bahram, that great Hunter the Wild Ass 
 Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep. 
 
 XVI II 
 
 I sometimes think that never blows so red 
 The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled ; 
 
 That every Hyacinth the Garden wears 
 Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. 
 
 XIX 
 
 And this delightful Herb whose tender Green 
 Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean 
 
 Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who knows 
 From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen !
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT UP OMAR KHAYYAM. 29 
 XVII 
 
 Think, in this batter d Caravanserai 
 Whose Portals are alternate Nigtit and Day, 
 
 How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp 
 Abode his destind Hour, and went his way. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 They say the Lion and the Lizard keep 
 The Courts ivherc Jamshyd gloried and drank deep : 
 And Bahrain, that great Hunter the Wild Ass 
 Stamps oer his Head, but cannot break his Sleep. 
 
 I sometimes tliink that never blows so red 
 The Rose as where some buried Ccesar bled ; 
 
 That every Hyacinth the Garden wears 
 Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. 
 
 XX 
 
 And this reviving Herb whose tender Green 
 Fledges the River -Lip on which we lean 
 Ah, lean upon it lightly ! for who kuoivs 
 From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen !
 
 30 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XX 
 
 Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears 
 TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears 
 
 To-morrow? Why, To-morrow I may be 
 Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Lo ! some we loved, the loveliest and best 
 That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, 
 
 Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, 
 And one by one crept silently to Rest. 
 
 XXII 
 
 And we, that now make merry in the Room 
 They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, 
 
 Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth 
 Descend, ourselves to make a Couch for whom ? 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, 
 Before we too into the Dust descend ; 
 
 Dust into -Dust, and under Dust, to lie, 
 Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and sans End !
 
 Fourth Edftiou. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 31 
 XXI 
 
 Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears 
 TO-DAY of past Regret and future Pears : 
 
 To-morrow ! Why, To-morrow I may be 
 Myself with Yesterday's Sevn thousand Years. 
 
 XXII 
 
 For some ive loved, the loveliest and the best 
 That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, 
 Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, 
 And one by one crept silently to rest. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 And we that now make merry in the Room 
 They left, and Summer dresses in neiv bloom, 
 
 Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth 
 Descend ourselves to make a Couch for whom? 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, 
 Before we too into the Dust descend ; 
 
 Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, 
 Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and sans End !
 
 Xf 
 
 32 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. Firit Edition. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Alike for those who for To- DAY prepare, 
 And those that after a To-MORROW stare, 
 
 A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries 
 " Fools ! your Reward is neither Here nor There ! " 
 
 XXV 
 
 Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd 
 Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust 
 
 Like foolish Prophets forth ; their Words to Scorn 
 Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise 
 To talk ; one thing is certain, that Life flies ; 
 One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies ; 
 The Flower that once has blown for ever dies. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Myself when young did eagerly frequent 
 Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument 
 
 About it and about : but evermore 
 Came out by the same Door as in I went.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 33 
 XXV 
 
 Alike for those wiw for To-DAY /?r/wr, 
 And those that after some To-MORROW stare 
 
 A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, 
 "Fools ! your Reward is neither Here nor There." 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Why, all the Saints and Sages ivho discuss 'd 
 Of the two Worlds so wisely they are thrust 
 
 Like foolish Prophets forth ; their Words to Scorn 
 Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. 
 
 (See Stanza LXIII.) 
 
 xxvn 
 
 Myself when young did eagerly frequent 
 Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument 
 
 About it and about : but evermore 
 Came out by the same door tvhere in I went.
 
 34 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, 
 And with my own hand labour'd it to grow : 
 
 And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd 
 " I came like Water, and like Wind I go." 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Into this Universe, and why not knowing, 
 Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing : 
 And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, 
 I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing. 
 
 XXX 
 
 What, without asking, hither hurried zvhcncc ? 
 And, without asking, whither hurried hence ! 
 
 Another and another Cup to drown 
 The Memory of this Impertinence! 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate 
 I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, 
 
 And many Knots unravel'd by the Roacl ; 
 But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate. 
 
 ^
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 35 
 XXVIII 
 
 With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, 
 
 And with mine own hand wrought to make it groiv ; 
 
 And this was all the Harvest that I reaped 
 " I 'came like Water, and like Wind I go." 
 
 XXJX 
 
 Into this Universe, and Why not knowing 
 Xor Whence, like Water willy-nilly fiowing ; 
 
 And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, 
 I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing. 
 
 xxx 
 
 What, without asking, hither hurried Whence ? 
 And, without asking, Whither hurried hence ! 
 
 Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine 
 Must drown the memory of that insolence ! 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate 
 I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, 
 
 And many a Knot unravel d by the Road ; 
 But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
 
 36 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 There was a Door to which I found no Key : 
 There was a Veil past which I could not see : 
 
 Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE 
 There seemed and then no more of THEE and ME. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried, 
 Asking, " What Lamp had Destiny to guide 
 
 " Her little Children stumbling in the Dark ? " 
 And "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied. 
 
 xxxiv 
 
 Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn 
 My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn : 
 
 And Lip to Lip it murmur'd "While you live 
 " Drink ! for once dead you never shall return."
 
 Fourth Editiou. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 37 
 XXXII 
 
 There was the Door to which I found no Key ; 
 There was the Veil through which I might not sec : 
 
 Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE 
 There was and then no more of THEE and ME. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Earth could not answer ; nor the Seas that mourn 
 In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn ; 
 
 Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal V/ 
 And hidden by the sleeve of Night and J\Iorn. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Then of 'the THEE IN ME who works behind 
 The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find 
 
 A Lamp amid the Darkness ; and I heard, 
 As from Without "THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!" 
 
 xxxv 
 
 Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn 
 I leand, the Secret of my Life to learn : 
 
 And Lip to Lip it murmur d " While yon live, 
 "Drink ! for, once dead, you never shall return."
 
 38 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 I think the Vessel, that with fugitive 
 Articulation answer'd, once did live, 
 
 And merry-make ; and the cold "Lip I kiss'd 
 How many Kisses might it take and give ! 
 
 xxxvi 
 
 For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, 
 I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay : 
 
 And with its all obliterated Tongue 
 It murmur'd "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 Ah, fill the Cup : what boots it to repeat 
 How Time is slipping underneath o'ur Feet: 
 
 Unborn To-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY, 
 Why fret about them if To-DAY be sweet !
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 39 
 
 XX XVI 
 
 I think the Vessel, that with fugitive 
 Articulation ansiverd, once did live, 
 
 And drink ; and All ! the passive Lip I kiss 1 d, 
 How many Kisses might it take and give ! 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 For I remember stopping by the ivay 
 
 To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay : 
 
 And with its all-obliterated Tongue 
 It murmur d "Gently, Brother, gently, pray /" 
 
 (See Stanza LVII.) 
 
 xxx vn I 
 
 And has not such a Story from of Old 
 Doivn Man's successive generations rolVd 
 
 Of such a cloud of saturated Eartli 
 Cast by the Maker into Human mould ?
 
 40 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 (See Stanza xi.virj 

 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 41 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 And not a drop that from our Cups ^ve throw 
 For EartJi to drink of, but may steal below 
 
 To quench t 'he fire of Anguish in some Eye 
 There hidden far beneath, and long ago. 
 
 XL 
 
 As then the Tulip for her morning sup 
 
 Of Heavnly Vintage from the soil looks up, 
 
 Do you devoutly do the like, till Heavn 
 To Eartli invert you like an empty Cup. 
 
 XLI 
 
 Perplext no more with Human or Divine, 
 To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign, 
 And lose your fingers in the tresses of 
 Tlie Cypress-slender Minister of Wine. 
 
 XLII 
 
 And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, 
 End in wJiat All begins and ends in Yes ; 
 
 Think then yon arc To- DAY what YESTERDAY 
 You w'crc To- MORROW JYW shall not be less.
 
 42 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 (See Stanza XLVUlJ 
 
 [From Preface. 
 
 Oh, if my soul can fling his Dust aside, 
 And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, 
 
 Is 't not a Shame, is 't not a Shame for Him 
 So long in this Clay Suburb to abide ? 
 
 Or is that but a Tent, where rests anon 
 A Sultan to his Kingdom passing on, 
 
 And which the swarthy Chamberlain shall strike 
 Then when the Sultan rises to be gone ?] 
 
 7?v:
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 43 
 XL/// 
 
 So when the A ngel of the darker Drink 
 At last shall find yon by the river-brink, 
 
 And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul 
 Forth to your Lips to quaff you shall not shrink. 
 
 XL1V 
 
 Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, 
 A nd naked on the A ir of Heaven ride, 
 
 Wert not a Shame wer't not a Shame for him 
 In this clay carcase crippled to abide ? 
 
 XLV 
 
 ' T is but a Tent where takes his one day's rest 
 A Sulttin to the realm of Deatli addrest ; 
 The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrdsh 
 Strikes, and prepares it for another^ Guest. 
 
 XL VI 
 
 And fear not lest Existence closing your 
 Account, and mine, slwuld know the like no more ; 
 
 The Eternal Sdki from that Bowl has pourd 
 Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
 
 44 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, 
 
 One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste 
 
 The Stars are setting and the Caravan 
 Starts for the Dawn of Nothing Oh, make haste
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 45 
 
 XL VII 
 
 When You and I behind the Veil are past, 
 
 Oh, but the long, long ivhile the World shall last, 
 
 Which of our Coming and Departure heeds 
 As the Sea s self should heed a pebble-cast. 
 
 XL VIII 
 
 A Moment's Halt a momentary taste 
 
 Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste 
 
 And Lo ! the phantom Caravan has rcacht 
 The NOTHING it set out from Oh, make haste ! 
 
 XLIX 
 
 Would you that spangle of Existence spend 
 About THE SECRET quick about it, Friend ! 
 A Hair perhaps divides the False and True 
 A nd upon what, prithee, does life depend ? 
 
 A Hair perhaps divides the False and True ; 
 Yes ; and a single Alif were the clue 
 
 Could you but find it to the Treasure-house, 
 And per adventure to THE MASTER too;
 
 46 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit 
 Of This and That endeavour and dispute ? 
 Better be merry with the fruitful Grape, 
 Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 47 
 LI 
 
 Whose secret Presence, through Creation s veins 
 Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains ; 
 
 Taking all shapes from Mdh to Mdhi ; and 
 They change and perish all but He remains; 
 
 LI I 
 
 A moment guess d then back bcJiind tlic Fold 
 Immerst of Darkness round the Drama rolVd 
 
 Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, 
 He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold. 
 
 LIII 
 
 But if in vain, doivn on the stubborn floor 
 
 Of Earth, and up to Hcavn's unopcning Door, 
 
 You gaze TO-DAY, while You are You how then 
 To-MORROW, You when shall be You no more? 
 
 LIV 
 
 Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit 
 Of This and That endeavour and dispute ; 
 Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape 
 Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
 
 48 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XL 
 
 You know, my Friends, how long since in my House 
 For a new Marriage I did make Carouse : 
 
 Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, 
 And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. 
 
 XLI 
 
 For " Is " and " Is-NOT " though with Rule and Line. 
 And " UP-AND-DOWN " without, I could define, 
 
 I yet in all I only cared to know, 
 Was never deep in anything but Wine. 
 
 (Sec Stanza xxxvuj 
 
 XL! I 
 
 And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, 
 
 Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape 
 
 Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder ; and 
 He bid me taste of it ; and 't was the Grape !
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 49 
 
 You knoiv, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse 
 I made a Second Marriage in my house; 
 
 Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, 
 And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. 
 
 LVI 
 
 For " Is " and " IS-NOT " though witJi Rule and Line, 
 And " UP-AND-DOWN " by Logic I define, 
 Of all that one should care to fathom, I 
 Was never deep in anything but Wine. 
 
 LVI I 
 
 Ah, but my Computations, People say, 
 Reduced the Year to better reckoning ? Nay, 
 
 ~* T was only striking from the Calendar 
 Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday. 
 
 LVI II 
 
 And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, 
 
 Came shining throng JL the Dusk an Angel Shape 
 
 Bearing a Vessel on his SJiouldcr ; and 
 tic bid me taste of it ; and V was the Grape !
 
 50 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 The Grape that can with Logic absolute 
 The Tworand-Seventy jarring Sects confute : 
 
 The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice 
 Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 The mighty Mahmiid, the victorious Lord, 
 That all the misbelieving and black Horde 
 r Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul 
 Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword. 
 
 XLV 
 
 But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me 
 The Quarrel of the Universe let be : 
 
 And in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, 
 Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 51 
 
 LIX 
 
 The Grape that can ivith Logic absolute 
 The Two-and- Seventy jarring Sects confute : 
 
 The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice 
 Lifes leaden metal into Gold transmute : 
 
 LX 
 
 The migJity MaJimud, Allah-breathing Lord, 
 That all the misbelieving and black Horde 
 
 Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul 
 Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. 
 
 LXI 
 
 Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare 
 Blaspheme the tivistcd tendril as a Snare ? 
 
 A Blessing, we should use it, should we not ? 
 And if a Curse why, then, Who set it there ? 
 
 /ul
 
 52 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 (See Stanza XXVI.)
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 53 
 
 LXI1 
 
 I must abjtire the Balm of Life, I must, 
 Scared by some After-reckoning taen on trust, 
 Or lured witJi Hope of some Diviner Drink, 
 To fill the Cup when crumbled into Dust ! 
 
 LXIII 
 
 Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise ! 
 One tiling at least is certain This Life flies ; 
 
 One thing is certain and the rest is Lies ; 
 The Flower that once has blown for ever dies. 
 
 LXIV 
 
 Strange, is it not ? that of the myriads who 
 Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, 
 
 Not one returns to tell us of the Road, 
 Which to discover ive must travel too. 
 
 LXV 
 
 The Revelations of Devout and Lcarrfd 
 Who rose before us, and as Prophets bnrn'd, 
 
 Arc all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep 
 They told their comrades and to Sleep return' d.
 
 54 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XLVI 
 
 For in and out, above, about, below, 
 'T is nothing but a Magic Shadow- show, 
 
 Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, 
 Round which we Phantom Figures come and go. 
 
 XLVI I 
 
 And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, 
 End in the Nothing all Things end in Yes 
 
 Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what 
 Thou shalt be Nothing Thou shalt not be less.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 55 
 
 LXV1 
 
 I sent my Soul throng Ji the Invisible, 
 Some letter of that After- life to spell : 
 
 And by and by my Soul return' d to me, 
 And answer' d "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell : " 
 
 LXVII 
 
 Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill' d Desire, 
 And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire 
 
 Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, 
 So late cmcrg'd from, shall so soon expire. 
 
 LXVII I 
 
 We are no other than a moving row 
 
 Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go 
 
 Round witJi the Sun -illumin 'd Lantern held 
 In Midnight by the Master of the Show ; 
 
 (See Stanza XL//. )
 
 56 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 While the Rose blows along the River Brink, 
 With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink : 
 
 And when the Angel with his darker Draught 
 Draws up to Thee take that, and do not shrink. 
 
 XLIX 
 
 'T is all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days 
 Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays : 
 
 Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, 
 And one by one back in the Closet lays. 
 
 The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
 But Right or Left, as strikes the Player, goes ; 
 
 And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, 
 He knows about it all HE knows HE knows 
 
 LI 
 
 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, 
 Moves on : nor all thy Piety nor Wit 
 
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
 
 Fourth. Editioii. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. U / 
 
 (Sec Stanza XLIII.) 
 
 LXIX 
 
 But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays 
 Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days: 
 
 Hither and tliitlicr moves, and cheeks, and slays, 
 A nd one by one back in the Closet lays. 
 
 The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
 But Here or TJicrc as strikes the Player goes ; 
 And He that toss'd you dozvn into the Field, 
 ffe knows about it all HE knows HE knows ! 
 
 LXXI 
 
 The Moving Finger writes ; and, having writ, 
 Moves on : nor all your Piety nor Wit 
 
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, 
 Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
 
 58 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LI I 
 
 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, 
 Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die, 
 
 Lift not thy hands to It for help for It 
 Rolls impotently on as Thou or I. 
 
 LIII 
 
 With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead, 
 And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: 
 
 Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote 
 What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read. 
 
 LIV 
 
 I tell Thee this When starting from the Goal, 
 Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal 
 
 Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung, 
 In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 59 
 LXXII 
 
 And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, 
 Whereunder crawling coofid we live and die, 
 Lift not your hands to It for help for it 
 As impotently moves as yon or I. 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 With Earths first Clay They did the Last Man knead, 
 And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed : 
 
 And the first Morning of Creation wrote 
 What the Last Daivn of Reckoning shall read. 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 YESTERDAY This Day's Madness did prepare ; 
 To-MoRROW's Silence, Triumph, or Despair: 
 
 Drink ! for you knoiv not whence you came, nor why : 
 Drink ! for you know not why you go, nor where. 
 
 LXXV 
 
 I tell you tJiis When, started from the Goal, 
 Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal 
 
 Of Hcavn Panvin and Mushtari they flung, 
 In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul 
 
 iV
 
 60 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LV 
 
 The Vine had struck a Fibre ; which about 
 If clings my Being let the Sufi flout; 
 
 Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key, 
 That shall unlock the Door he howls without. 
 
 LVI 
 
 And this I know : whether the one True Light, 
 Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, 
 
 One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught 
 Better than in the Temple lost outright.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 61 
 
 LXXVI 
 
 The Vine had struck a fibre : which about 
 If clings my Being let the DcrvisJi flout ; 
 
 Of my Base metal may be filed a Key, 
 That shall unlock the Door he howls without. 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 And this I know : whether the one True Light 
 Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, 
 One flasJi of It zuithin the Tavern caugJit 
 Better than in the Temple lost outright. 
 
 LXXVIH 
 
 What ! out of senseless Nothing to provoke 
 A conscious Something to resent the yoke 
 Of unpcrmittcd Pleasure, under pain 
 Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke ! 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 What ! from his helpless Creature be repaid 
 Pure Gold for what lie lent him dross-allay d 
 
 Sue for a Debt we never did contract, 
 And cannot answer Oh the sorry trade !
 
 62 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. Firnt Edition. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin 
 Beset the Road I -was to wander in, 
 
 Thou wilt not with Predestination round 
 Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin ? 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make 
 And who with Eden didst devise the Snake ; 
 For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man 
 Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give and take! 
 
 KUZA-NAMA. 
 
 LIX 
 
 LISTEN again. One Evening at the Close 
 Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose, 
 In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone 
 With the clay Population round in Rows.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 63 
 
 LXXX 
 
 Oil Than, wlw didst with pitfall and with gin 
 Beset the Road I tvas to wander in, 
 
 TJwu wilt not with Predestined Evil round 
 Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin ! 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 Oil TJion, who Man of baser Earth didst make, 
 And evn with Paradise devise the Snake : 
 
 For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man 
 Is blackciid Man's forgiveness give and take ! 
 
 LXXX1I 
 
 As under cover of departing Day 
 Slunk /lunger-stricken Ramazan away, 
 
 Once more within the Potter s house alone 
 I stood, surrounded by t/ie S/iapes of Clay. 
 
 'Vi 
 
 *
 
 64 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LX 
 
 And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot 
 Some could articulate, while others not : 
 
 And suddenly one more impatient cried 
 "Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?" 
 
 LXI 
 
 Then said another "Surely not in vain 
 
 " My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en, 
 
 " That He who subtly wrought me into Shape 
 "Should stamp me back to common Earth again." 
 
 LXI I 
 
 Another said "Why, ne'er a peevish Boy, 
 
 " Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy ; 
 
 " Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love 
 "And Fansy, in an after Rage destroy !"
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 65 
 
 (See Stanza Lxxxvii.) 
 
 Lxxxin 
 
 Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small, 
 That stood along the floor and by the ivall ; 
 
 And sonic loquacious vessels ivere ; and sonic 
 Listened perhaps, but never talk'd at all. 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 Said one among them "Surely not in vain 
 My substance of the common Earth was ta'en 
 
 And to this '^Figure moulded, to be broke, 
 Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again. 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 Then said a Second "Ne'er a peevish Boy 
 
 "Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy ; 
 
 "And He that with his hand the Vessel made 
 " Will surely not in after WratJi destroy.'' 1
 
 66 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LXIII 
 
 None answer'd this ; but after Silence spake 
 A Vessel of a more ungainly Make : 
 
 " They sneer at me for leaning all awry ; 
 " What ! did the Hand then of the Potter shake ? " 
 
 (Sec Stanza Lxj 
 
 LXIV 
 
 Said one "Folks of a surly Tapster tell, 
 "And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell ; 
 
 " They talk of some strict Testing of us Pish ! 
 " He 's a Good Fellow, and 't will all be well." 
 
 LXV 
 
 Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, 
 "My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry: 
 " But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, 
 " Methinks I might recover by-and-bye ! "
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 67 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 After a momentary silence spake 
 Some Vessel of a more ungainly make : 
 
 " They sneer at me for leaning all aivry : 
 " What / did the Hand then of the Potter shake ?" 
 
 LXXXVII 
 
 Whereat sonic one of the loquacious Lot 
 / think a Sufi pipkin waxing hot 
 
 "All this of Pot and Potter Tell me then, 
 " Who is the Potter, pray, and w/io the Pot ? " 
 
 LXXXVIII 
 
 "Why" said anotJicr, "Sonic there are who tell 
 " Of one who threatens he will toss to If el I 
 
 " 77ie luckless Pots he marrd in making Pish ! 
 "He 's a Good Felloiv, and 't will all be well." 
 
 LXXXIX 
 
 "Well" murmur d one, "Let whoso make or buy, 
 "My Clay zvith long Oblivion is gone dry: 
 " But fill me with the old familiar Juice, 
 "Met/links I might recover by and by." 
 
 [y
 
 68 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, 
 One spied the little Crescent all were seeking : 
 
 And then theyjogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! 
 " Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking! " 
 
 LXVII 
 
 Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, 
 And wash my Body whence the Life has died, 
 
 And in the Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, 
 So bury me by some sweet Garden-side. 
 
 LXVII I 
 
 That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare 
 Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air, 
 
 As not a True Believer passing by 
 But shall be overtaken unaware.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 69 
 
 XC 
 
 So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, 
 The little Moon look'd in that all were seeking : 
 
 And then they jogg 1 d each other, "Brother! Brother! 
 "Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking ! " 
 
 XCI 
 
 All, wit] i the Grape my fading Life provide, 
 And wash the Body whence the Life has died, 
 
 And lay me, shrouded in the' living Leaf, 
 By some not unfrequented Garden-side. 
 
 XCII 
 
 That cv n my buried Ashes such a snare 
 Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air 
 
 As not a True-believer passing by 
 But shall be overtaken unaware.
 
 70 RUBAIYAT OF OMAE KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 Indeed the Idols I have loved so long 
 
 Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong : 
 
 Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup, 
 And sold my Reputation for a Song. 
 
 LXX 
 
 Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before 
 I swore but was I sober when I swore? 
 
 And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand 
 My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore. 
 
 LXXI 
 
 And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, 
 And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour well, 
 
 I often wonder what the Vintners buy 
 One half so precious as the Goods they sell. 
 
 LXXII 
 
 Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose ! 
 That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close ! 
 
 The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, 
 Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows !
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 71 
 
 XCIII 
 
 Indeed the Idols I have loved so long 
 
 Have done my credit in this World mucJi wrong: 
 
 Have drown d my Glory in a sJiallow Cup, 
 And sold my reputation for a Song. 
 
 XCIV 
 
 Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before 
 
 I swore but was I sober when I swore ? 
 
 And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand 
 My thread- bare Penitence apiece s tore. 
 
 XCV 
 
 And much as Wine has play' d the Infidel, 
 And robUd me of my Robe of Honour Well, 
 
 I wonder often what the Vintners buy 
 One half so precious as the stuff they sell. 
 
 XCVI 
 
 Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose ! 
 That You t /is sweet-scented manuscript should close ! 
 
 The Nightingale that in the branches sang, 
 Ah iv hence, and whither flown again, who knows /
 
 72 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. First Edition. 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 Ah Love ! could thou and I with Fate conspire 
 To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
 Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire !
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. 73 
 
 xcvn 
 
 Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield 
 One glimpse if dimly, yet indeed, reveal d, 
 
 To which the fainting Traveller might spring, 
 As springs the trampled herbage of the field f 
 
 XCVIII 
 
 Would but some winged Angel ere too late 
 Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, 
 
 And make the stern Recorder otlicrivisc 
 Enrcgistcr, or quite obliterate ! 
 
 xcix 
 
 All Love! could you and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
 Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's desire !
 
 74 RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. Firet Edition. 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, 
 The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again : 
 
 How oft hereafter rising shall she look 
 Through this same Garden after me in vain ! 
 
 LXXV 
 
 And when Thyself with shining Foot shalt pass 
 Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass, 
 
 And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot 
 Where I made one turn down an empty Glass 
 
 TAMAiM SHUD.
 
 Fourth Edition. RUBAIYAT OP OMAR KHAYYAM. 75 
 
 Yon rising Moon that looks for ns again 
 How oft hereafter ^v^ll she wax and ivane ; 
 
 How oft hereafter rising look for ns 
 Through this same Garden and for one /;/ vain ! 
 
 Cl 
 
 And when like her, oh Sdki, you shall pass 
 Among the Guests Star-scatter 'd on the Grass, 
 
 And in your joyous errand reach the spot 
 Where I made One ////'// down an empty Glass ! 
 
 TAMAM.
 
 ITOTES. 
 
 [The references are, except in the first note only, to the stanzas 
 of the Fourth edition.] 
 
 (Stanza I.) Flinging a Stone into the Cup was the signal 
 for " To Horse ! " in the Desert. 
 
 (II.) The "False Dawn;" 1 " 1 SuWii Kdzib, a transient Light 
 on the Horizon about an hour before the Sul>hi sddik or True 
 Dawn ; a well-known Phenomenon in the East. 
 
 (IV.) New Year. Beginning with the Vernal Equinox, it 
 must be remembered ; and (howsoever the old Solar Year is 
 practically superseded by the clumsy Lunar Year that dates 
 from the Mohammedan Hijra) still commemorated by a Fes- 
 tival that is said to have been appointed by the very Jamshyd 
 whom Omar so often talks of, and whose yearly Calendar he 
 helped to rectify. 
 
 " The sudden approach and rapid advance of the Spring," 
 says Mr. Binning, " are very striking. Before the Snow is 
 well off the Ground, the Trees burst into Blossom, and the 
 Flowers start from the Soil. At Naw Rooz (their New Year's 
 Day) the Snow was lying in patches 011 the Hills and in the 
 shaded Vallies, while the Fruit-trees in the Garden were 
 budding beautifully, and green Plants and Flowers springing 
 upon the Plains on every side 
 
 ' And on old Hyems' Chin and icy Crown 
 ' An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds 
 t Is, as in mockery, set 
 
 Among the Plants newly appear'd I recognized some Acquaint- 
 ances I had not seen for many a Year: among these, two 
 varieties of the Thistle ; a coarse species of the Daisy, like 
 the Horse-gowan ; red and white clover ; the Dock ; the blue 
 Corn-flower; and that vulgar Herb the Dandelion rearing its
 
 NOTES. 77 
 
 yellow crest on the Banks of the Water-courses." The Night- 
 ingale was not yet heard, for the Rose was not yet blown : but 
 an almost identical Blackbird and Woodpecker helped to 
 make up something of a North-country Spring. 
 
 " The White Hand of Moses." Exodus iv. 6 ; where Moses 
 draws forth his Hand not, according to the Persians, " leprous 
 as Snow" but ivhite, as our May-blossom in Spring perhaps. 
 According to them also the Healing Power of Jesus resided 
 in his Breath. 
 
 (V.) Irani, planted by King Shaddad, and now sunk some- 
 where in the Sands of Arabia. Jamshyd's Seven-ring'd Cup 
 was typical of the 7 Heavens, 7 Planets, 7 Seas, &c,, and was 
 a Divining Cup. 
 
 (VI.) Pelilevi, the old Heroic Sanskrit of Persia. Hafiz also 
 speaks of the Nightingale's Pehlevi, which did not change with 
 the People's. 
 
 I am not sure if the fourth line refers to the Red Rose look- 
 ing sickly, or to the Yellow Rose that ought to be Red ; Red, 
 White, and Yellow Roses all common'in Persia. I think that 
 Southey in his Common-Place Book, quotes from some Span- 
 ish author about the Rose being White till 10 o'clock ; " Rosa 
 Perfecta " at 2 ; and " perfecta incarnada " at 5. 
 
 (X.) Rustum, the " Hercules" of Persia, and Zal his 
 Father, whose exploits are among the most celebrated in 
 the Shahnama. Hatiin Tai, a well-known type of Oriental 
 Generosity. 
 
 (XIII.) A Drum beaten outside a Palace. 
 
 (XIV.) That is, the Rose's Golden Centre. 
 
 (XVIII.) Persepolis: call'd also Takht-i-JamsJiyd THE 
 THRONE OF JAMSHYD, "King Splendid," of the mythical Pesli- 
 dddian Dynasty, and supposed (according to the Shah-iiama) 
 to have been founded and built by him. Others refer it to 
 the Work of the Genie King, Jan Ibn Jan who also built 
 the Pyramids before the time of Adam. 
 
 BAHRAM GUR. Bahmm of the Wild Ass a Sassanian 
 Sovereign had also his Seven Castles (like the King of
 
 78 NOTES. 
 
 Bohemia !) each of a different Colour : each with a Royal 
 Mistress within ; each of whom tells him a Story, as told in 
 one of the most famous Poems of Persia, written by Amir 
 Khusraw : all these Sevens also figuring (according to Eastern 
 Mysticism) the Seven Heavens ; and perhaps the Book itself 
 that Eighth, into which the mystical. Seven transcend, and 
 within which they revolve. The Ruins of Three of those 
 Towers are yet shown by the Peasantry ; as also the Swamp in 
 which Bahram sunk, like the Master of Ravenswood, while 
 pursuing his Gur. 
 
 The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw, 
 And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew 
 
 I saw the solitary Ringdove there, 
 And " Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and " Coo, coo, coo." 
 
 [Included in Nicolas' s edition as No. 350 of the Rubdiyydt, and 
 also in Mr. WJiin.fi eld's translation.] 
 
 This Quatrain Mr. Binning found, among several of Hafiz 
 and others, inscribed by some stray hand among the ruins of 
 Persepolis. The Ringdove's ancient Pehlevi Coo, Coo, Coo, 
 signifies also in Persian " Where? Where? Where?" 11 In 
 Attar's " Bird-parliament " she is reproved by the Leader of 
 the Birds for sitting still, and for ever harping on that one 
 note of lamentation for her lost Yusuf . 
 
 Apropos of Omar's Red Roses in Stanza xix, I am reminded 
 of an old English Superstition, that our Anemone Pulsatilla, 
 or purple " Pasque Flower," (which grows plentifully about 
 the Fleam Dyke, near Cambridge,) grows only where Danish 
 Blood has been spilt. 
 
 (XXI.) A thousand years to each Planet. 
 
 (XXXI.) Satuni, Lord of the Seventh Heaven. 
 
 (XXXII.) ME-AND-THEE : some dividual Existence or 
 Personality distinct from the Whole. 
 
 (XXXVII.) One of the Persian Poets Attar, I think - 
 has a pretty story about this. A thirsty Traveller dips his
 
 NOTES. 79 
 
 hand into a Spring of Water to drink from. By-and-by comes 
 another who draws up and drinks from an earthen bowl, and 
 then departs, leaving his Bowl behind him. The first Trav- 
 eller takes it np for another draught ; but is surprised to find 
 that the same Water which had tasted sweet from his own 
 hand tastes bitter from the earthen Bowl. But a Voice 
 from Heaven, I think tells him the clay from Avhich the 
 Bowl is made was once Man ; and, into whatever shape 
 renew'd, can never lose the bitter flavor of Mortality. 
 
 (XXXIX.) The custom of throwing a little Wine on the 
 ground before drinking still continues in Persia, and perhaps 
 generally in the East. Mons. Nicolas considers it " un signe 
 de liberalite, et en meme temps un avertissement que le buveur 
 doit vider sa coupe jusqu'a la derniere goutte." Is it not 
 more likely an ancient Superstition ; a Libation to propitiate 
 Earth, or make her an Accomplice in the illicit Revel ? Or, 
 perhaps, to divert the Jealous Eye by some sacrifice of super- 
 fluity, as with the Ancients of the West 1 With Omar we see 
 something more is signified ; the precious Liquor is not lost, 
 but sinks into the ground to refresh the dust of some poor 
 Wine-worshipper foregone. 
 
 Thus Hafiz, copying Omar in so many ways : "When thou 
 drinkest Wine pour a draught on the ground. Wherefore 
 fear the Sin which brings to another Gain J ? " 
 
 (XLIII.) According to one beautiful Oriental Legend, 
 Azrael accomplishes his mission by holding to the nostril an 
 Apple from the Tree of Life. 
 
 This, and the two following Stanzas would have been with- 
 drawn, as somewhat de trop, from the Text, but for advice 
 which I least like to disregard. 
 
 (LI.) From Mah to Mahi ; from Fish to Moon. 
 
 (LVI.) A Jest, of coiirse, at his Studies. A curious mathe- 
 matical Quatrain of Omar's has been pointed out to me ; the 
 more curious because almost exactly parall'd by some Verses 
 of Doctor Donne's, that are quoted in Izaak Walton's Lives ! 
 Here is Omar: "You and I are the image of a pair of com-
 
 80 NOTES. 
 
 passes ; though we have two heads (sc. our feet) we have one 
 body 5 when we have fixed the centre for our circle, we bring 
 our heads (sc. feet) together at the end." Dr. Donne : 
 
 If we be two, we two are so 
 As stiff twin-conipasses are two ; 
 
 Thy Soul, the fixt foot, makes no show 
 To move, but does if the other do. 
 
 And though thine in the centre sit, 
 Yet when ray other far does roam, 
 
 Thine leans and hearkens after it, 
 And grows erect as mine comes home. 
 
 Such thou must be to me, who must 
 Like the other foot obliquely run ; 
 
 Thy firmness makes my circle just, 
 And me to end where I begun. 
 
 (LIX.) The Seventy-two Religions supposed to divide the 
 World, including Islamism, as some think : but others not. 
 
 (LX.) Alluding to Sultan Mahmud's Conquest of India 
 and its dark people. 
 
 (LXVIII.) Funusi khiydl, a Magic-lanthorn still used in 
 India ; the cylindrical Interior being painted with various 
 Figures, and so lightly poised and ventilated as to revolve 
 round the lighted Candle within. 
 
 (LXX.) A very mysterious Line in the Original : 
 
 danad danad danad 
 
 breaking off something like our Wood-pigeon's Note, which 
 she is said to take up just where she left off. 
 
 (LXXV.) Parwin and Mushtari The Pleiads and Jupiter. 
 
 (LXXXVII.) This Relation of Pot and Potter to Man and 
 his Maker figures far and wide in the Literature of the World,
 
 NOTES. 81 
 
 from the time of the Hebrew Prophets to the present ; when 
 it may finally take the name of "Pot theism," by which Mr. 
 Carlyle ridiculed Sterling's "Pantheism." My Sheikh, whose 
 knowledge flows in from all quarters, writes to me 
 
 "Apropos of old Omar's Pots, did I ever tell you the sen- 
 tence I found in l Bishop Pearson on the Creed ' ? ' Thus are 
 we wholly at the disposal of His will, and our present and 
 future condition framed and ordered by His free, but wise 
 and just, decrees. Hath not tlie potter power over the clay, of 
 the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto 
 dishonour? (Rom. ix. 21.) And can that earth-artificer have 
 a freer power over his brother potsherd (both being made of 
 the same metal), than God hath over him, who, by the strange 
 fecundity of His omnipotent power, first made the clay out 
 of nothing, and then him out of that ? ' ' 
 
 And again from a very different quarter "I had to 
 refer the other day to Aristophanes, and came by chance 
 on a curious Speaking-pot story in the Vespa?, which I had 
 quite forgotten. 
 
 1.1435 
 
 Karf]Yp ?- Tr: 
 
 <lH. c ()5yTvoc ODV t^euv itv' InefiapTOpaTO 1 
 
 Eifj' YJ S'J^apiTOc; elitev, El val tav nopav, 
 TYJV fAapiopiav TotDTYjV laaac, sv td/c'. 
 E-iojajxov TCpia>, voov Sv si/s? icXeiova. 
 
 " The Pot calls a bystander to be a witness to his bad treat- 
 ment. The woman says, ' If, by Proserpine, instead of all 
 this 'testifying' (comp. Cuddie and his mother in i Old Mor- 
 tality ! ') you would buy yourself a rivet, it would show more 
 sense in you!' The Scholiast explains echinus as YY? T: *" A
 
 82 NOTES. 
 
 One more illustration for the oddity's sake from the " Auto- 
 biography of a Cornish Rector," by the late James Hamley 
 Tregenna. 1871. 
 
 " There was one odd Fellow in our Company he was so 
 like a Figure in the ' Pilgrim's Progress ' that Richard always 
 called him the 'ALLEGORY,' with a long white beard a 
 rare Appendage in those days and a Face the colour of 
 which seemed to have been baked in, like the Faces one used 
 to see on Earthenware Jugs. In our Country-dialect Earth- 
 enware is called 'dome'; so the Boys of the Village used 
 to shout out after him ' Go back to the Potter, Old Clome- 
 face, and get baked over again.' For the 'Allegory,' though 
 shrewd enough in most things, had the reputation of being 
 ' saift-baked^ i. e., of weak intellect." 
 
 (XC.) At the Close of the Fasting Month, Ramazan (which 
 makes the Mussulman unhealthy and unamiable), the first 
 Glimpse of the New Moon (who rules their division of the 
 Year) is looked for with the utmost Anxiety, and hailed with 
 Acclamation. Then it is that the Porter's Knot may be 
 heard toward the Cellar. Omar has elsewhere a pretty 
 Quatrain about the same Moon 
 
 "Be of Good Cheer the sullen Month will die, 
 "And a young Moon requite us by and by: 
 
 " Look how the Old one meagre, bent, and wan 
 "With Age and Fast, is fainting from the Sky!" 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 3*
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR, 
 
 GIVING REFERENCES FROM FITZGERALD'S RUBAIYYAT TO THE ORIGI- 
 NALS AS PUBLISHED BY NICOLAS, PARIS, 1867, AXD MR. WHIN- 
 FIELD'S ENGLISH VERSION PRINTED IN 1882; WITH OCCASIONAL 
 LITERAL RENDERINGS IN THE FORM AND METRE OF THE 
 ORIGINALS. 
 
 The Roman numerals on the left refer to quatrains of the Rubaiyyat as 
 published in the Fourth edition. The Arabic figures in the tlrst column 
 on the right refer to the Rubaiyyat as numbered in the Paris edition. 
 The Arabic figures of the last column refer to Whinfield's translation. 
 
 (F.) (N.) (W. 
 
 i. This rubffiy is not, in either of its forms, 
 found in Nicolas or in Whinfield. 
 
 II. The first in the Persian text of Nicolas 1 Absent 
 
 The following is a nearly exact rendering, both of 
 the sense and the metre 
 
 Out from our inn, one morn, a voice came roaring " Up ! 
 Sots, scamps, and madmen ! quit your heavy snoring ! Up ! 
 
 Come pour we out a measure full of wine, and drink ! 
 Ere yet the measure's brimmed for us they 're pouring up ! " 
 
 I. and ii. can be compared with N. 255, W. 158 ; 
 which may be rendered thus 
 
 Lo ! the dawn breaks, and the curtain of night is torn 
 Up! swallow thy morning cup Why seem to mourn? 
 
 Drink wine, my heart ! for the dawns will come and come 
 Still facing to us when our faces to earthward turn !
 
 84 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 (F.) . (N.) (W.) 
 
 in. Not in the Persian, nor in Whinfield. 
 
 iv 186 109 
 
 " The thoughtful soul to solitude retires " is the 
 only interpolation. 
 
 v. Not in the Persian, nor in Whinfield. 
 
 VI. Partly original ; partly agreeing with 153 94 
 
 vil. Not found in the Persian, nor in Whinfield. 
 
 vni 105 73 
 
 Life fleets Why care we then be it sweet or bitter ? 
 At Balkh or at Naishiipvir that the soul shall flitter? 
 
 Drink wine ! for when we are gone, the Moon shall ever 
 Continue to wax and wane, to pale and slitter! 
 
 ix. Seems compounded of two Persian stanzas, < <i7 ' n 
 
 ( o t U 
 
 370 of the original may be rendei-ed thus 
 
 See how the zephyr tears the scarf of the rose away ; 
 The rose's beauty charms the I nil bill's woes away ! 
 
 Go, sit in the shade of the rose, for every rose 
 That springs from the earth, again to earth soon goes away! 
 
 x. Is a verbal echo of the Persian stanza, but 
 
 quite different in sense 416 235 
 
 The original is 
 
 So long as thy frame of flesh and of bone shall be, 
 Stir not one step outside Fate's hostelry ; 
 
 Bow to no foe thy neck, were 't Rnstum's self, 
 Take from no friend a gift, though Hutim he ! 
 
 82 
 xi ? S 
 
 > Compounded of three stanzas < 413 234 
 
 (448 247 
 82 in the original is 
 
 In the Springtime, biding with one who is houri-fair, 
 And a flask of wine, if 't is to be had somewhere 
 On the tillage's grassy skirt Alack! though most 
 May think it a sin, I feel that my heaven is there !
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 85 
 
 (F.) (N.) (\V.) 
 
 413 in the original 
 
 A flask of red wine, and a volume of sons, together ; 
 Half ;i loaf, just enough the ravage of Want to tether: 
 
 Such is my wish then, tliou in the waste with me ! 
 Oh! sweeter were this than a monarch's crown and feather! 
 
 (A parallel is also found in No. 146 of the Persian, 
 which runs thus 
 
 He who doth here below but half a loaf possess, 
 
 Who for his own can claim some sheltering nook's recess, 
 
 He who to none is either lord or thrall 
 Go! tell him he enjoys the world's full happiness!) 
 
 xui. Compounded of two stanzas, the first of which ^ 61 
 
 is not in the printed text c 92 43 
 
 The Persian of N. 92, may be rendered thus 
 
 I know not if He who kiiea-dcd my clay to man 
 Belong to the host of Heaven or the Hellish' clan ; 
 
 A life mid the meadows, with Woman, and Music, and Wine, 
 Heaven's cash is to me: let Heaven's credit thy fancy trepan! 
 
 xiv. Not found in the Persian of Nicolas 189 
 
 xv. 156 95 
 
 This is very beautiful in Fitzgerald. The exact 
 rendering of the Persian is 
 
 Darling, ere sorrow thy nightly couch enfold again, 
 Bid wine be brought, red sparkling as of old, again ! 
 
 And (Jiou, weak fool! think not that thou art gold: 
 When buried, none will dig thee up from the mould again ! 
 
 xvi. Not found in the Persian or in Whinfield. 
 
 xvn 67 34 
 
 This old inn call'd the world, that man shelters his head in, 
 (Pied curtains of Dawn and of Dusk o'er it spreading:) 
 'T is the banqueting-hall many Jamshids have quitted, 
 The couch munv Bahrams have found their last bed in!
 
 86 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 (F.) (N.) (W.) 
 
 xviii 69 35 
 
 Here, where Bahrain oft brimmed his glorious chalice, 
 Deers breed and lions sleep in the ruined palace; 
 
 Like the wild ass he lassoed, the great Hunter 
 Lies in the snare of Death's wild Huntsman callous ! 
 
 xix. Not in Nicolas' Persian text 58 
 
 xx 59 31 
 
 The verdure that you rivulet's bank arraying is, 
 "The down on an angel's lip," in homely saying, is 
 
 O tread not thereon disdainfully ! - it springeth 
 From the dust of some tulip-cheek that there decaying is ! 
 
 xxi 269 167 
 
 Let not the morrow make thee, friend, down-hearted ! 
 Draw profit of the day yet undeparted : 
 
 We '11 join, when we to-morrow leave this mansion, 
 The band seven thousand years ago that started ! 
 
 xxii. A very beautiful stanza which I do not find 
 
 in the Persian. 
 xxni 348 205 
 
 The wheel of Heaven thy death and mine is bringing, friend'. 
 Over our lives a deadly spell 't is flinging, friend! 
 
 Come, sit upon this turf, for little time is left 
 Ere fresher turf shall from our dust be springing, friend ! 
 
 xxiv. Complementary to the sense of xxni, with 
 
 an addition not in the Persian, 
 xxv 337 198 
 
 Myriad minds a-busy sects and creeds to learn, 
 The Doubtful from the Sure all puzzled to discern : 
 
 Suddenly from the Dark the crier raised a cry 
 "Not this, nor Uiat, ye fools! the path that ye must turn!" 
 
 How delicately and skilfully Fitzgerald turns the 
 Persian expression literally into a common Eng- 
 lish phrase, "neither here nor there,'' to which
 
 V 
 
 (P.) 
 
 (N.) 
 
 xxvin. Not in Nicolas 
 
 xxix. i Paraphrased from the original (not in 
 xxx. I Nicolas) of 
 
 There is a hint of it in N. 42 and in W. 12, which 
 corresponds to N. 22. This last may be ren- 
 dered 
 
 This life is tout three days' space, and it speeds apace, 
 Like wind that sweeps away o'er the desert's face : 
 
 So long as it lasts, two days ne'er trouble my mind, 
 The daj' undawned, and the day that has run its race. 
 
 Neither in Nicolas 
 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII 
 
 XXXIH. A fine stanza ; not in N. or in W. 
 
 xxxiv. Not in N. or W. 
 
 xxxv. Not in the Persian text of Nicolas. 
 
 87 
 
 (W.) 
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 he lends new force and effect ! Instead of " from 
 the dark, the Crier," Whinfield has "from 
 behind the veil a Voice," while Fitzgerald ex- 
 presses it in a fine paraphrase, " A Muezzin 
 from the tower of Darkness." 
 
 xxvi. Evidently from a Persian source which I 
 cannot identify. It resembles N. 120, W. 
 82, which correspond to the following 
 
 The learned, the cream of mankind, who have driven 
 Intellect's chariot over the heights of heaven 
 
 Void and o'ertunied, like that blue sky they trace, 
 Are dazed, when they to measure Thee have striven ! 
 
 xxvii 225 143 
 
 Forth, like a hawk, from Mystery's world I fly, 
 Seeking escape to win from the Low to the High : 
 
 Arriving, when none I find who the secret knows, 
 Out through the door I go that I entered by ! 
 
 185 
 64 
 
 161 
 203 
 
 149
 
 88 
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 (F.) 
 
 (N.) (\V.) 
 
 A similar thought is contained in N. 389, W. 223 
 
 Sprung from the Four, and the Seven ! I see that never 
 The Four and the Seven respond to thy brain's endeavour 
 
 Drink wine ! for I tell thee, four times o'er and more, 
 Return there is none ! Once gone, thou art gone for ever ! 
 
 (The four elements and the seven heavens from 
 which man derives his essence.) 
 
 xxxvi. Perhaps suggested by N. 28, W. 17. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 xxxvili. Perhaps suggested by N. 119. 
 xxxix. 
 
 .211 137 
 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 
 188 110 
 
 40 
 
 (294 
 
 ? 359 
 
 Partly altered from 49 28 
 
 Not in Nicolas 139 
 
 Not in Nicolas 218 
 
 . 80 37 
 
 A very fine and sufficiently close rendering, but 
 the final " prepares it for another guest " con- 
 tains an idea which confuses the relations be- 
 tween the body and the soul. This is closer 
 
 Thy body 's a tent, where the Soul, like a King in quest 
 Of the goal of Nought, is a momentary guest; 
 
 He arises; Death's far rush uproots the tent, 
 And the King moves on to another stage to rest. 
 
 137 
 319 
 
 90 
 
 190 
 
 XL, vii. Not found in the original. 
 XLVIII. Ditto. Perhaps suggested by N. 80 and N. 
 214. The latter (214) may be rendered 
 
 Up ! smooth-faced boy, the daybreak shines for thee : 
 Brimm'd with red wine let the crystal goblet be ! 
 
 For this hour is lent thee in the House of Dust : 
 Another thou may'st seek, but ne'er slialt see!
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 (F.) 
 
 XLIX., L., LI. Not found. These three and the pre- 
 ceding one are probably founded on N. 365 
 and N. 214 blended. 
 
 89 
 
 (N.) (W.) 
 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 
 443 
 . 49 
 
 244 
 
 28 
 
 Not found. 
 
 .181 106 
 
 A double-sized beaker to measure my wine I '11 take; 
 Two doses to fill up my settled design I '11 take; 
 With the first, I '11 divorce me from Faith and from Reason quite, 
 With the next, a new bride in the Child of the Vine I '11 take ! 
 
 This is a conceit derived from the Mohammedan 
 law of divorce. Similar imagery is used in 
 N. 259. 
 LVI. Not found. Perhaps suggested from the 
 
 same source as xxxv. 
 LVII. Not found. Derived from N. 22, which is 
 
 noticed under xxix-xxx. 
 LVIII 329 
 
 A tolerably close paraphrase of the Persian icord-s, 
 but conveying a totally different sense. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 179 105 
 
 Only the last line differs to any considerable de- 
 gree, and Fitzgerald has in it replaced the 
 original with a superior idea. 
 
 LX. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 
 Not found. 
 
 Suggested by the conceits of cash and credit 
 (i. e.j enjoyment of to-day, put in opposi- 
 tion to ascetic holiness which waits for joy 
 in the next world), which recur frequently 
 in the Persian. 
 
 Not found.
 
 90 NOTES BY THE EDITOE. 
 
 (F.) 
 LXV. 
 
 (N.) 
 
 464 
 
 (W.) 
 
 116 
 
 Is not so good as the original, which is the last 
 stanza of the Persian text as given by Nicolas. 
 
 Those who were paragons of Worth and Ken, 
 Whose greatness torchlike lights their fellow men, 
 
 Out of this night profound no path have traced for us ; 
 They 've babbled dreams, then fall'n to sleep again ! 
 
 LXVI. Not found. 
 
 LXVII. Altered from 90 41 
 
 LXVIII. Improved from the Persian 267 165 
 
 This vault of Heaven at which we gaze astounded, 
 May by a painted lantern be expounded : 
 
 The light 's the Sun, the lantern is the World, 
 And We the figures whirling dazed around it ! 
 
 LXIX 231 148 
 
 But puppets are we in Fate's puppet-show 
 No figure of speech is this, but in truth 't is so ! 
 
 On the draughtboard of Life we are shuffled to and fro. 
 Then one by one to the box of Nothing go! 
 
 LXX. Not in Nicolas 104 
 
 LXXI 216 140 
 
 Since life has, love ! no true reality, 
 Why let its coil of cares a trouble be? 
 
 Yield thee to Fate, whatever of pain it bring: 
 The Pen will never unwrite its writ for thee! 
 
 LXXII 95 45 
 
 LXXIII. ^ < 216 140 
 
 LXXIV. V Derived from < 85 40 
 
 LXXV. ) (110 77 
 
 LXXVI. Not found. 
 
 LXXVII. Altered considerably from 222 142 
 
 In the tavern, better with Thee my soul I share 
 Than in the mosque, without Thee, uttering prayer 
 
 O Thou, the First and Last of all that is! 
 Or doom Thou me to burn, or choose to spare.
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 (F.) 
 
 99 
 190 
 
 ^268 
 
 91 
 
 (W.) 
 
 46 
 111 
 
 390 
 
 N. 99 is as follows : 
 
 When the Supreme my body made of clay, 
 He well foreknew the part that I should play : 
 
 Not without His ordainment have I Binned! 
 Why would He then I burn at Judgment-day? 
 
 N. 380 contains a similar idea, and has perhaps 
 furnished suggestion for LXXIX : 
 
 The wayward caprices my life that have tinted 
 All spring from the mould on my Being imprinted : 
 
 Nought else and nought better my nature conld be 
 I am as I came from the crucible minted ! 
 
 LXXXI. Partly from the same sources as LXXVIII- 
 
 LXXX, and partly from .................. 375 
 
 But the original does not contain the idea of 
 " Man's forgiveness give and take ! " 
 
 N. 375 may be rendered thus : 
 
 Woe ! that life's work should be so vain and hollow : 
 Sin in each breath and in the food we swallow! 
 
 Black is my face that what was Bid, undone is: 
 If done the Unbidden, ah ! what then must follow ? 
 
 Contain in greater diffuseness the exact 
 idea of.. ..243 156 
 
 To a potter's shop, yestreen, I did repair; 
 Two thousand dumb or chattering pots were there. 
 All turned to me, and asked with speech distinct: 
 "Who is 't that makes, that buys, that sells our ware?" 
 
 38 
 
 Suggested by several of the rnl>dii/>/dt.
 
 
 
 92 NOTES BY THE EDITOK. 
 
 
 (P.) 
 
 (N.) (W.) 
 
 LXXKIX. 
 
 J 290 185 
 
 
 1 1 15 
 
 Wlieu Fate, at lier foot, a broken wreck shall fling me, 
 And when Fate's hand, a poor plucked fowl shall wring me ; 
 
 Beware, of my clay, aught else than a bowl to make, 
 That the scent of the wine new life in time may bring me! 
 
 XC. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Not in the original. 
 
 Let wine, gay comrades, be the food I 'in fed upon ; 
 These amber cheeks its ruby light be shed upon! 
 
 Wash me in 't, when I die; and let the trees 
 Of my vineyard yield the bier that I lie dead upon! 
 
 109 76 
 
 Not in the original. 
 
 .463 115 
 
 Siiice the Moon and the Star of Eve first shone on high, 
 Nought has been known with ruby Wine could vie: 
 
 Strange, that the vintners should in traffic deal! 
 Better than what they sell, what could they buy? 
 
 128 80 
 
 Ah ! that young Life should close its volume bright away ! 
 Mirth's springtime green, that it should pass from sight away ! 
 
 Ah! for the Bird of Joy whose name is Youth: 
 We know not when she came, nor when took flight away ! 
 
 xcvu. Not found in the original. 
 
 xcvin. > Suggested by N. 216, 340, 457 ; W. 140, ' 
 
 xcix. $ 200, 251. 
 
 N. 340 may be rendered thus : 
 
 If I like God o'er Heaven's high fate could reign. 
 I 'd sweep away the present Heaven's domain, 
 
 And from its ruins such a new one build 
 That an honest heart its wish could aye attain! 
 
 N. 457 is as follows : 
 
 I would God were this whole world's scheme renewing, 
 And now! at once! that I might see it doing! 
 
 That either from His roll my name were cancelled, 
 Or luckier days for me from Heaven accruing!
 
 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 93 
 
 (F.) (N.) (W.) 
 
 c. $82 
 
 ' i 94 
 
 8 is as follows : 
 
 Since none can bo our surety for to-morrow, 
 Sweeten, my love, thy heart to-day from sorrow : 
 
 Drink wine, fair Moon, in wine-light, for the moon 
 Will come again, and miss us, many a morrow ! 
 
 94. 
 
 The moon cleaves the skirt of the night then, oh! drink \Viiie! 
 For never again will moment like this be thine. 
 
 Be gay ! and remember that many and many a moon 
 Oil the surface of earth again and again will shine! 
 
 ci. . . 192 112 
 
 Appoint ye a tryst, happy comrades, anon! 
 
 And when as your revel in gladness comes on 
 
 The Saki takes goblet in hand, oh ! remember, 
 And bless, while you drink, the poor fellow that 's gone ! 
 
 The following may be added, as characteristic of the spirit 
 of Omar Khayyam : 
 
 N. 2. 
 
 Thou ! chosen one from earth's full muster-roll to me ! 
 Dearer than my two eyes, than even my soul to me ! 
 
 Though nothing than life more precious we esteem, 
 Yet dearer art thou, niy love, a hundred-fold to me ! 
 
 N. 4. 
 
 Nothing but pain and wretchedness we earn in 
 This world that for a moment we sojourn in : 
 
 We go! no problem solved alas! discerning; 
 Myriad regrets within our bosoms burning '. 
 
 N. 5. 
 
 O master ! grant us only this, we prithee : 
 
 Preach not! but (lurribly guide to bliss, we prithee! 
 
 " \Yc walk not straight ?" Xay, it is thou who s([uintest ! 
 Go, heal thy eight, and leave us in peace, we prithee :
 
 94 NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 N. 6. 
 
 Hither ! coine hither, love ! my heart doth need thee ; 
 Come, and expound a riddle f will read thee. 
 
 The earthen jar bring too, and let us drink, love ! 
 Ere, turned to clay, to earthenware they knead thee! 
 
 N. 7. 
 
 Wash nit; when dead in the juice of the vine, dear friends ! 
 Let your funeral service be drinking and wine, dear friends ! 
 
 And if you would meet me again when the Doomsday comes, 
 . Search the dust of the tavern, and sift from it mine, dear friends ! 
 
 N. 13. 
 
 Howe'er with beauty's hue and bloom eudow'd I be, 
 Of tulip-cheek and cypress-form though proud I be ; 
 
 Yet know I not why the Limner chose that, here, in this 
 Mint-house of clay, amid the painted crowd I be ! 
 
 N. 57. 
 
 Unworthy of Hell, unfit for Heaven, I be 
 
 God knows what clay He used when He moulded me! 
 
 Foul as a punk, ungodly as a monk, 
 No faith, no world, no hope of Heaven I see ! 
 
 N. 88. 
 
 Wicked, men call me ever; yet blameless 1! 
 Think how it is, ye Saints ! My life, ye cry, 
 
 Breaks all Heaven's laws Good lack! I have no sin, 
 That needs reproach, save wenching and drink! then, why? 
 
 N. 388. 
 
 Oh! Thou hast shattered to bits my jar of wine, my Lord! 
 
 Thou hast shut me out from the gladness that was mine, my Lord ! 
 
 Thou hast spilt and scattered my wine upon the clay 
 O dust in my mouth ! if the drunkness be not Thine, my Lord ! 
 
 According to the testimony of an old MS., according to 
 M. Nicolas, the third line of this stanza ought to run thus : 
 
 "7 drink the wine; 'tis Tliou who feel'st its power"
 
 SALAMAN 
 
 AND 
 
 ABSAL. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN OF 
 
 JAML
 
 NOTICE OF JAMIS LIFE. 
 
 Drawn from Rosenzweig's 
 " Biographische Notizen" of the Poet. 
 
 NURUDDIN ABDURRAHMAN, Son of Maulana Nizani- 
 uddin Ahmad, and descended on the Mother's side 
 from One of the Four great " FATHERS " of Islamism, 
 was born A. H. 817, A. D. 1414, in Jam, a little Town of 
 Khorasan, whither his Grandfather had removed from 
 Desht of Ispahan and from which the Poet ultimately 
 took his Takhallns, or Poetic name, JAMI. The word 
 also signifies "A Cup;" wherefore, he says, u Born in 
 Jam, and dipt in the "Jam" of Holy Lore, for a double 
 reason I must be called JAMI in the Book of Song." ] 
 He was celebrated afterwards in other Oriental Titles 
 "Lord of Poets" "Elephant of Wisdom," &c., but 
 latterly liked to call himself " The Ancient of Herat," 
 where he mainly resided, and eventually died. 
 
 When Five Years old he received the name of Niir- 
 uddin the " Light of Faith," and even so early began 
 to show the Metal, and take the Stamp that distin- 
 
 1 He elsewhere plays upon his name, imploring God that he 
 may be accepted as a Cup to pass about that Spiritual Wine of 
 which the Persian Mystical Poets make so much.
 
 98 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 
 
 guished him through Life. In 1419, a famous Sheikh, 
 Khwajah Mohammad Parsa, then in the last Year of 
 his Life, was being carried through Jam. "I was not 
 then Five Years old/' says Jami, " and my Father, who 
 with his Friends went forth to salute him, had me car- 
 ried on the Shoulders of one of the Family and set down 
 before the Litter of the Sheikh, who gave a Nosegay 
 into my hand. Sixty Years have passed, and methinks 
 I now see before me the bright Image of the Holy Man, 
 and feel the Blessing of his Aspect, from which I date 
 my after Devotion to that Brotherhood in which I hope 
 to be enrolled." 
 
 So again, when Maulana Fakhruddin Loristani had 
 alighted at his Mother's house "I was then so little 
 that he set me upon his Knee, and, with his Fingers 
 drawing the Letters of 'All' and 'OMAR' in the Air, 
 laughed with delight to hear me spell them. He also 
 by his Goodness sowed in my Heart the Seed of his 
 Devotion, which has grown to Increase within me in 
 which I hope to live, and in which to die. Oh God ! 
 Dervish let me live, and Dervish die ; and in the Com- 
 pany of the Dervish do Thou quicken me to life 
 again ! " 
 
 Jami first went to a School at Herat ; and afterward 
 to one founded by the Great Tinmr at Samarcand. 
 There he not only outstript his Fellow-students in the 
 very Encyclopedic Studies of Persian Education, but 
 even puzzled his Doctors in Logic, Astronomy, and 
 Theology ; who, however, with unresenting Gravity 
 
 I5T
 
 NOTICE OF JAMI'S LIFE. 99 
 
 welcomed him " Lo ! a new Light added to our Gal- 
 axy ! " And among them in the wider Field of Samar- 
 cand he might have liked to remain, had not a dream 
 recalled him to Herat. A Vision of the Great Sufi 
 Master there, Mohammad Saaduddin Kashghari, ap- 
 peared to him in his Sleep, and bade him return to One 
 who would satisfy all Desire. Jami returned to Herat ; 
 he saw the Sheikh discoursing with his Disciples by 
 the Door of the Great Mosque ; day after day passed 
 him by without daring to present himself; but the 
 Master's Eye was upon him; day by day drew him 
 nearer and nearer till at last the Sheikh announces 
 to those about him " Lo ! this Day have I taken a 
 Falcon in my Snare ! " 
 
 Under him Jami began his Sufi Noviciate, with such 
 Devotion, both to Study and Master, that going, he 
 tells us, but for one Summer Holiday into the Country, 
 a single Line sufficed to "lure the Tassel-gentle back 
 again ; " 
 
 " Lo ! here am I, and Thou look's! on the Kose ! " 
 
 By-and-by he withdrew, by due course of Sufi In- 
 struction, into Solitude so long and profound, that on 
 his return to Men he had almost lost the Power of Con- 
 verse with them. At last, when duly taught, and duly 
 authorised to teach as Sufi Doctor, he yet would not 
 take upon himself so to do, though solicited by those 
 who had seen such a Vision of him as had drawn him- 
 self to Herat ; and not till the Evening of his Life was
 
 100 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 
 
 he to be seen taking that place by the Mosque which 
 his departed Master had been used to occupy before. 
 
 Meanwhile he had become Poet, which no doubt 
 winged his Reputation and Doctrine far and wide 
 through a People so susceptible of poetic impulse. 
 
 " A Thousand times/' he says, " I have repented of 
 such Employment ; but I could no more shirk it than 
 one can shirk what the Pen of Fate has written on his 
 Forehead'' "As a Poet I have resounded through the 
 World; Heaven filled itself with my Song, and the 
 Bride of Time adorned her Ears and Neck with the 
 Pearls of my Verse, whose coming Caravan the Per- 
 sian Hafiz and Saadi came forth gladly to salute, and 
 the Indian Khosru and Hasan hailed as a Wonder of 
 the World." u The Kings of India and Rum greet me 
 by Letter : the Lords of Irak and Tabriz load me with 
 (lifts ; and what shall I say of those of Khorasan, who 
 drown me in an Ocean of Munificence?" 
 
 This, though Oriental, is scarcely bombast. Jami 
 was honoured by Princes at home and abroad, at the 
 very time they were cutting one another's Throats ; by 
 his own Sultan Abii Said ; by Hasan Beg of Mesopo- 
 tamia "Lord of Tabriz" by whom Abu Said was 
 defeated, dethroned, and slain ; by Mohammad II. of 
 Turkey "King of Rum" who in his turn defeated 
 Hasan ; and lastly by Husein Mirza Baikara, who 
 somehow made away with the Prince whom Hasan had 
 set up in Abu Said's Place at Herat. Such is the house 
 that Jack builds in Persia. 
 
 Lf
 
 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 
 
 101 
 
 As Hasan Beg, however the USUNCASSAN of old 
 European Annals is singularly connected with the 
 present Poem, and with probably the most important 
 event in Jami's Life, I will briefly follow the Steps that 
 led to that as well as other Princely Intercourse. 
 
 In A. H. 877, A. D. 1472, Jami set off on his Pilgrimage 
 to Mecca, as every True Believer who could afford it 
 was expected once in his Life to do. He, and, on his 
 Account, the Caravan he went with, were honourably 
 and safely escorted through the interjacent Countries 
 by order of their several Potentates as far as Baghdad. 
 There Jami fell into trouble by the Treachery of a Fol- 
 lower whom he had reproved, and who misquoted his 
 Verse into disparagement of ALI, the Darling Imam of 
 Persia. This, getting wind at Baghdad, was there 
 brought to solemn Tribunal. Jami came victoriously 
 off; his Accuser was pilloried with a dockt Beard in 
 Baghdad Market-place : but the Poet was so ill-pleased 
 with the stupidity of those who had believed the 
 Report, that, in an after Poem, he called for a Cup of 
 Wine to seal up Lips of whose Utterance the Men of 
 Baghdad were unworthy. 
 
 After four months' stay there, during which he 
 visited at Helleh the Tomb of Ali's Son Husein, who 
 had fallen at Kerbela, he set forth again to Najaf, 
 (where he says his Camel sprang forward at sight of 
 Ali's own Tomb) crossed the Desert in twenty-two 
 days, continually meditating on the Prophet's Glory, to 
 Medina ; and so at last to MECCA, where, as he sang in
 
 102 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 
 
 a Ghazal, he went through all Mohammedan Ceremony 
 with a Mystical Understanding of his Own. 
 
 He then turned Homeward : was entertained for 
 forty-five days at Damascus, which he left the very 
 Day before the Turkish Mohammad's Envoys came 
 with 5000 Ducats to carry him to Constantinople. On 
 arriving at Amida, the Capital of Mesopotamia, he 
 found War broken out and in full Flame between that 
 Sultan and Hasan Beg, King of the Country, who 
 caused Jami to be honourably escorted through the 
 dangerous Roads to Tabriz ; there received him in full 
 Divan, and would fain have him abide at his Court 
 awhile. Jami, however, was intent on Home, and once 
 more seeing his aged Mother for lie was turned of 
 Sixty and at last reached Herat in the Month of 
 Shaaban, 1473, after the Average Year's Absence. 
 
 This is the HASAN, "in Name and Nature Handsome" 
 (and so described by some Venetian Ambassadors of 
 the Time), who was Father of YACUB BEG, to whom 
 Jami dedicated the following Poem ; and who, after 
 the due murder of an Elder Brother, succeeded to the 
 Throne ; till aU the Dynasties of " Black and White 
 Sheep " together were swept away a few years after by 
 Ismail, Founder of the Sofi Dynasty in Persia. 
 
 Arrived at home, Jami found Husein Mirza Baikara, 
 last of the Timuridae, seated on the Throne there, and 
 ready to receive him with open Arms. Nizamuddin 
 AH Shir, Husein's Vizir, a Poet too, had hailed in Verse 
 the Poet's Advent from Damascus as ''The Moon rising
 
 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 103 
 
 in the West;" and they both continued affectionately 
 to honour him as long as he lived. 
 
 Jami sickened of his mortal Illness on the 13th of 
 Moharrem, 1492 a Sunday. His Pulse began to fail 
 on the following Friday, after the Hour of Morning- 
 Prayer, and stopped at the very moment when the 
 Muezzin began to call to Evening. He had lived 
 Eighty-one Years. Sultan Husein undertook the 
 pompous Burial of one whose Glory it was to have 
 lived and died in Dervish Poverty; the Dignitaries of 
 the Kingdom followed him to the Grave ; where twenty 
 days afterward was recited in presence of the Sultan 
 and his Court an Eulogy composed by the Vizir, who 
 also laid the first Stone of a Monument to his Friend's 
 Memory the first Stone of " Turbat-i Jami," in the 
 Street of Meshhed, a principal Thoro'fare of the City 
 of Herat. For, says Bosenzweig, it must be kept in 
 mind that Jami was reverenced not only as a Poet and 
 Philosopher, but as a Saint also ; who not only might 
 work a Miracle himself, but leave such a Power linger- 
 ing about his Tomb. It was known that an Arab, who 
 had falsely accused him of selling a Camel he knew to 
 be unsound, died very shortly after, as Jami had pre- 
 dicted, and on the very selfsame spot w r here the Camel 
 fell. And that libellous Bogue at Baghdad he, put- 
 ting his hand into his Horse's Nose-bag to see if the 
 beast had finisht his Corn, had his Forefinger bitten 
 off by the same from which " Verstiimmlung " he 
 soon died I suppose, as he ought, of Lock-jaw.
 
 104 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 
 
 The Persians, who are adepts at much elegant Inge- 
 nuity, are fond of commemorating Events by some 
 analogous Word or Sentence whose Letters, cabalisti- 
 cally corresponding to certain Numbers, compose the 
 Date required. In Jami's case they have hit upon the 
 word " KAS," A Cup, whose signification brings his own 
 name to Memory, and whose relative letters make up 
 his 81 years. They have Tdrikhs also for remember- 
 ing the Year of his Death : Rosenzweig gives some ; 
 but Ouseley the prettiest of all : 
 
 Dud az Khorasan bar amed 
 
 " The smoke " of Sighs " went up from Khorasan." 
 
 No Biographer, says Rosenzweig cautiously, records 
 of Jami's having more than one Wife (Granddaughter 
 of his Master Sheikh) and Four Sons ; which, however, 
 are Five too many for the Doctrine of this Poem. Of 
 the Sons, Three died Infant ; and the Fourth (born to 
 him in very old Age), and for whom he wrote some 
 Elementary Tracts, and the more famous ^Beharistan," 
 lived but a few years, and was remembered by his 
 Father in the Preface to his Kliiradnama-i Iskauder 
 Alexander's Wisdom-book which perhaps had also 
 been begun for the Boy's Instruction. He had likewise 
 a nephew, one Maulaiia Abdullah, who was ambitious 
 of following his Uncle's Footsteps in Poetry. Jami 
 first dissuaded him 5 then, by way of trial whether he 
 had a Talent as well as a Taste, bade him imitate 
 Firdusi's Satire on Shah Mahmud. The Nephew did so
 
 NOTICE OF JAMl'S LIFE. 105 
 
 well, that Jami then encouraged him to proceed ; himself 
 wrote the first Couplet of his first (and most celebrated) 
 Poem Laila and Majnun 
 
 This Book of which the Pen has now laid the Foundation, 
 May the diploma of Acceptance one day befall it, 
 
 and Abdullah went on to write that and four other 
 Poems which Persia continues to delight in to the 
 present day, remembering their Author under his Takh- 
 allus of HATIFI " The Voice from Heaven " the 
 Last of the classic Poets of Persia. 
 
 Of Jami's literary Offspring, Rosenzweig numbers 
 forty-four. But Shir Khan Ludi in his "Memoirs of 
 the Poets," says Ouseley, accounts him Author of 
 Ninety-nine Volumes of Grammar, Poetry, and Theol- 
 ogy, which, he says, " continue to be universally ad- 
 mired in all parts of the Eastern World, Iran, Turan, 
 and Hindustan" copied, some of them, into precious 
 Manuscripts, illuminated with Gold and Painting, by 
 the greatest Penmen and Artists of the time ; one such 
 the "Beharistan" said to have cost some thousands 
 of pounds autographed as their own by two Sover- 
 eign Descendants of TIMUR ; and now reposited away 
 from u the Drums and Tramplings" of Oriental Con- 
 quest in the tranquil seclusion of an English library. 
 
 With us, his Name is almost wholly associated with 
 his "Yusuf and Zulaikha;" the "Beharistan" aforesaid: 
 and this present " Salaman and Absal," which he tells 
 us is like to be the last product of his Old Age. And
 
 of ^c r r&&m&ns,
 
 SALAMA^ AXD ABSAL. 
 
 PRELIMINARY INVOCATION. 
 
 OH Thou, whose Spirit through this universe 
 In which Thou dost involve thyself diffused, 
 Shall so perchance irradiate human clay 
 That men, suddenly dazzled, lose themselves 
 In ecstasy before a mortal shrine 
 Whose Light is but a Shade of the Divine ; 
 Not till thy Secret Beauty through the cheek 
 Of LAILA smite doth she inflame MAJNUN ; ] 
 And not till Thou have kindled SHIRIN'S Eyes 
 The hearts of those two Rivals swell with blood. 
 For Lov'd and Lover are not but by Thee, 
 Nor Beauty; mortal Beauty but the veil 
 Thy Heavenly hides behind, and from itself 
 Feeds, and our hearts yearn after as a Bride 
 
 1 \Yell-known Types of Eastern Lovers. SIU'RIN and her Suitor 
 figure on page 143.
 
 110 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 That glances past us veil'd but ever so 
 
 That none the veil from what it hides may know. 
 
 How long wilt thou continue thus the World 
 
 To cozen 1 with the fantom of a veil 
 
 From which thou only peepest ? I would be 
 
 Thy LoVer, and thine only I, mine eyes 
 
 Seal'd in the light of Thee to all but Thee, 
 
 Yea, in the revelation of Thyself 
 
 Lost to Myself, and all that Self is not 
 
 Within the Double world that is but One. 
 
 Thou lurkest under all the forms of Thought, 
 
 Under the form of all Created things ; 
 
 Look where I may, still nothing I discern 
 
 But Thee throughout this Universe, wherein 
 
 Thyself Thou dost reflect, and through those eyes 
 
 Of him whom MAN thou madest, scrutinise. 
 
 To thy Harim DivlDUALlTY 
 
 No entrance finds no word of THIS and THAT ; 
 
 Do Thou my separate and derived Self 
 
 Make one with thy Essential ! Leave me room 
 
 On that Divan which leaves no room for Twain ; 
 
 Lest, like the simple Arab in the tale, 
 
 I grow perplext, oh God! 'twixt " ME " and " TllKE; " 
 
 If/ this Spirit that inspires me whence? 
 
 If 77/or then what this sensual Impotence ? 
 
 1 The Persian Mystics also represent the Deity dicing with Human 
 Destiny behind the Curtain. 
 
 725
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. Ill 
 
 From the solitary Desert 
 
 Up to Baghdad came a simple 
 
 Arab ; there amid the rout 
 Grew bewildered of the countless 
 People, hither, thither, running, 
 Coming, going, meeting, parting, 
 Clamour, clatter, and confusion, 
 
 All about him and about. 
 Travel- wearied, hubbub-dizzy, 
 Would the simple Arab fain 
 Get to sleep "But then, on waking, 
 "How" quoth he, "amid so many 
 
 " Waking know Myself again ? " 
 So, to make the matter certain, 
 Strung a gourd about his ancle. 
 And, into a corner creeping, 
 Baghdad and Himself and People 
 
 Soon were blotted from his brain. 
 But one that heard him and divin'd 
 His purpose, slily crept behind; 
 From the Sleeper's ancle slipping, 
 
 Round his own the pumpkin tied, 
 
 And laid him do^vn to sleep beside. 
 By and by the Arab waking 
 Looks directly for his Signal 
 Sees it on another's Ancle 
 Cries aloud, "Oh Good-for-nothing
 
 112 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 "Rascal to perplex me so .' 
 
 "That by you I am bewildered, 
 
 " Whether I be I or no ! 
 
 "If I the Pumpkin why on You ? 
 
 "If You then Where am 7, and WHO ? " 
 
 AND yet, how long, O Jami, stringing Verse, 
 
 Pearl after pearl, on that old Harp of thine ? 
 
 Year after year attuning some new Song, 
 
 The breath of some old Story? 1 Life is gone, 
 
 And that last song is not the last ; my Soul 
 
 Is spent and still a Story to be told ! 
 
 And I, whose back is crooked as the Harp 
 
 I still keep tuning through the Night till Day ! 
 
 That Harp untun'd by Time the harper's hand 
 
 Shaking with Age how shall the harper's hand 
 
 Repair its cunning, and the sweet old harp 
 
 Be modulated as of old ? Methinks 
 
 'Twere time to break and cast it in the fire ; 
 
 The vain old harp, that, breathing from its strings 
 
 No music more to charm the ears of men, 
 
 May, from its scented ashes, as it burns, 
 
 Breathe resignation to the Harper's soul, 
 
 Now that his body looks to dissolution. 
 
 My teeth fall out my two eyes see no more 
 
 1 " Yusuf and Zulaikha," " Laila and Majmin," &c. 
 
 &
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 113 
 
 Till by Feringhi glasses turn'd to four; 1 
 Pain sits with me sitting behind my knees, 
 From which I hardly rise unhelpt of hand ; 
 I bow down to my root, and like a Child 
 Yearn as is likely, to my Mother Earth, 
 Upon whose bosom, I shall cease to weep, 
 And on my Mother's bosom fall asleep. 2 
 
 The House in ruin, and its music heard 
 
 No more within, nor at the door of speech, 
 
 Better in silence and oblivion 
 
 To fold me head and foot, remembering 
 
 What THE VOICE whisper'd in the Master's 8 ear 
 
 " No longer think of Rhyme, but think of ME ! " 
 
 Of WHOM ? Of HIM whose Palace the SOUL is. 
 
 And Treasure-house who notices and knows 
 
 Its income and out-going, and then comes 
 
 To fill it when the Stranger is departed. 
 
 Yea; but whose Shadow being Earthly Kings, 
 
 Their Attributes, their Wrath and Favour, His, 
 
 Lo ! in the meditation of His glory, 
 
 The SHAH 4 whose subject upon Earth I am, 
 
 As he of Heaven's, comes on me unaware, 
 
 l First notice of Spectacles in Oriental Poetry, perhaps. 
 
 y The same Figure is found in Chaucer's "Pardoner's Tale," and, I 
 think, in other Western poems of that era. 
 
 :i Jelaluddin Author of the " Mesnavi." 
 
 4 YAKUB BEG : to whose protection Jami owed a Song of gratitude. 
 
 A 
 
 'TV
 
 114 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 And suddenly arrests me for his due. 
 Therefore for one last travel, and as brief 
 As may become the feeble breath of Age, 
 My weary pen once more drinks of the well, 
 Whence, of the Mortal writing, I may read 
 Anticipation of the Invisible. 
 
 One who travel 'd in the Desert 
 Saw MAJNUN where he was sitting 
 All alone like a Magician 
 
 Tracing Letters in the sand. 
 "Oh distracted Lover ! writing 
 " What the Sword-wind of the Desert 
 "UndecipJicrs so' that no one 
 
 "After you shall understand.'" 
 MAJNUN answered "I am writing 
 "Only for myself, and only 
 " ' LAILA,' If for ever ' LAILA ' 
 " Writing in that Word a Volume, 
 "Over wl licit for ever poring, 
 "From her very Name I sip 
 "In Fancy, till I drink, her Lip."
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 115 
 
 THE STORY. 
 PART I. 
 
 A SHAH there was who ruled the realm of Yun, 1 
 
 And wore the Ring of Empire of Sikander ; 
 
 And in his reign A SAGE, of such report 
 
 For Insight reaching quite beyond the Veil, 
 
 That Wise men from all quarters of the World, 
 
 To catch the jewel falling from his lips 
 
 Out of the secret treasure as he went, 
 
 Went in a girdle round him. Which the SHAH 
 
 Observing, took him to his secrecy ; 
 
 Stirr'd not a step, nor set design afoot, 
 
 Without the Prophet's sanction ; till, so counsel'd, 
 
 From Kaf to Kaf 2 reach'd his Dominion: 
 
 No People, and no Prince that over them 
 
 The ring of Empire wore, but under his 
 
 Bow'd down in Battle ; rising then in Peace 
 
 Under his Justice grew, secure from wrong, 
 
 And in their strength was his Dominion strong. 
 
 The SHAH that has not Wisdom in himself, 
 
 Nor has a Wise one for his Counsellor. 
 
 l Or " YAVAX," Son of Japhet, from whom the Country was called 
 " YUXAX," IOXIA, meant by the Persians to express GREECE gen- 
 erally. Sikander is, of course, Alexander the Great. 
 
 - The Fabulous Mountain supposed by Asiatics to surround the 
 World, binding the Horizon on all sides.
 
 116 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 The wand of his Authority falls short, 
 And his Dominion crumbles at the base. 
 For he, discerning not the characters 
 Of Tyranny and Justice, confounds both, 
 Making the World a desert, and Redress 
 A fantom-water of the Wilderness. 
 
 God said to the Prophet David 
 ''David, whom I have exalted 
 ''From the sheep to be my People 's 
 
 "Shepherd, by your Justice my 
 
 ''Revelation justify. 
 "Lest the misbelieving yea, 
 "The Fire -adoring, Princes rather 
 "Be my Prophets, vv ho fulfill, 
 "Knowing not my Word, my WILL." 
 
 ONE night the SHAH of Yiinan as he sate 
 Contemplating his measureless extent 
 Of Empire, and the glory wherewithal, 
 As with a garment robed, he ruled alone ; 
 Then found he nothing wanted to his heart 
 Unless a Son, who, while he lived, might share, 
 And, after him, his robe of Empire wear. 
 And then he turned him to THE SAGE, and said:
 
 SALAMAX AND ABSAL. 117 
 
 " O Darling of the soul of IFLATUN ; l 
 
 " To whom with all his school ARISTO bows ; 
 
 " Yea, thou that an ELEVENTH to the TEN 
 
 " INTELLIGENCES addest: Thou hast read 
 
 "The yet unutter'd secret of my Heart, 
 
 " Answer Of all that man desires of God 
 
 " Is any blessing greater than a Son ? 
 
 " Man's prime Desire : by whom his name and he 
 
 " Shall live beyond himself; by whom his eyes 
 
 " Shine living, and his dust with roses blows. 
 
 " A Foot for thee to stand on, and an Arm 
 
 " To lean by ; sharp in battle as a sword ; 
 
 " Salt of the banquet-table; and a tower 
 
 " Of salutary counsel in Divan ; 
 
 " One in whose youth a Father shall prolong 
 
 " His years, and in his strength continue strong." 
 
 When the shrewd SAGE had heard THE SHAH'S 
 
 discourse 
 
 In commendation of a Son, he said : 
 "Thus much of a Good Son, whose wholesome growth 
 "Approves the root he grew from. But for one 
 " Kneaded of Ei<il well, could one revoke 
 " His generation, and as early pull 
 " Him and his vices from the string of Time. 
 
 1 Iflatun, Plato; Aristo, Aristotle: both renowned in the East to this 
 Day. For the Ten Intelligences, see Appendix. 
 
 A 
 
 : ?K
 
 118 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 " Like Noah's, pufif'd with insolence and pride, 
 " Who, reckless of his Father's warning call, 
 " Was by the voice of ALLAH from the door 
 " Of refuge in his Father's ark debarr'd, 
 " And perish'd in the Deluge. 1 And as none 
 
 " Who long for children may their children choose, 
 " Beware of teasing Allah for a Son, 
 
 "Whom having, you may have to pray to lose." 
 
 Sick at heart for want of Children, 
 Ran before the Saint a Fellow, 
 Catching at his garment, crying, 
 
 "Master, hear and help me ! Pray 
 
 "That ALLAH /hwz the barren clay 
 ^ Raise me up a frcsli young Cypress, 
 " Who my longing eyes may lighten, 
 "And not let me like a vapour 
 
 ' ' Unrcmembercd pass away. 
 But the Dervish said "Consider; 
 
 " Wisely let the matter rest 
 "In the hands of ALLAH wholly, 
 " Who, whatever we arc after, 
 
 "Understands our business best." 
 Still the man persisted "Master, 
 "I shall perish in my longing : 
 
 1 See Note in Appendix, p. 158. 
 
 ?
 
 V 
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 119 
 
 "Help, and set My prayer a-going ! " 
 
 Then the Dervish rais'd his hand 
 
 From the mystic Hunting- land 
 Of Darkness to Hie Father's arms 
 
 A musky Fawn of China drew 
 A Boy who , when the shoot of Passion 
 
 In his Nature planted grew, 
 Took to drinking, dicing, drabbing. 
 From a corner of the house -top 
 Ill-insulting honest women, 
 Dagger-drawing on the husband ; 
 
 And for many a city -brawl 
 Still before the Cadi summoned, 
 
 Still the Father pays for all. 
 Day and Night the youngster's doings 
 Such the city 's talk and scandal ; 
 Neither counsel, threat, entreaty, 
 Moved him till the desperate Father 
 Once more to the Dervish running, 
 CatcJies at his garment crying 
 " Oh my only Hope and Helper ! 
 "One more Prayer ! That God, ivho laid, 
 " Would take this trouble from my head ! " 
 But the Saint replied "Remember 
 "How that very Day I warn 'd you 
 ''Not with blind petition ALLAH 
 "Trouble to your oivn confusion ;
 
 120 
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 "Unto whom remains no more 
 "To pray for, save that He may pardon 
 " What so rashly prayed before." 
 
 " So much for the result; and for the means 
 
 " Oh SHAH, who would not be himself a slave, 
 
 " Which SHAH least should, and of an appetite 
 
 " Among the basest of his slaves enslav'd 
 
 " Better let Azrael find him on his throne 
 
 " Of Empire sitting childless and alone, 
 
 "Than his untainted Majesty resign 
 
 " To that seditious drink, of which one draught 
 
 " Still for another and another craves, 
 
 " Till it become a noose to draw the Crown 
 
 " fi'em off thy brows about thy lips a ring, 
 
 " Of which the rope is in a Woman's hand, 
 
 " To lead thyself the road of Nothing down. 
 
 " For what is She ? A foolish, faithless thing 
 
 " A very Kafir in rapacity ; 
 
 " Robe her in all the rainbow-tinted woof 
 
 " Of Susa, shot with rays of sunny Gold ; 
 
 " Deck her with jewel thick as Night with star ; 
 
 " Pamper her appetite with Houri fruit 
 
 " Of Paradise, and fill her jewell'd cup 
 
 " From the green-mantled Prophet's Well of Life^ 
 
 " One little twist of temper all your cost
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 " Goes all for nothing: and, as for yourself 
 " Look ! On your bosom she may lie for years ; 
 
 " But, get you gone a moment out of sight, 
 "And she forgets you worse, if, as you turn, 
 
 " Her eyes on any younger Lover light." 
 
 121 
 
 Once upon the Throne together 
 
 Telling one another Secrets, 
 
 Sate SULAYMAN and BALKIS j 1 
 
 The Hearts of both were turn'd to Truth, 
 
 Unsullied by Deception. 
 
 First the King of Faith SULAYMAN 
 
 Spoke " However just and wise 
 "Reported^ none of all the many 
 ''Suitors to my palace thronging 
 
 "But afar I scrutinise ; 
 "And He who comes not empty-handed 
 
 "Grows to Honoiir in mine Eyes." 
 After this, BALKIS a Secret 
 From her hidden bosom utter 'a 7 , 
 Saying "Never nigJit or morning 
 ''Comely Youth before me passes 
 " Whom I look not after, longing " 
 
 " If this, as wise Firdusi says, the curse 
 
 " Of better woman, what then of the worse ? " 
 
 1 Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, who, it appears, is no worse in 
 one way than Solomon in another, unless in Oriental Eyes.
 
 122 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 THE SAGE his satire ended ; and THE SHAH, 
 Determin'd on his purpose, but the means 
 Resigning to Supreme Intelligence, 
 With Magic-mighty Wisdom his own WILL 
 Colleagued, and wrought his own accomplishment. 
 For Lo ! from Darkness came to Light A CHILD, 
 Of carnal composition unattaint; 
 A Perfume from the realm of Wisdom wafted ; 
 A Rosebud blowing on the Royal stem ; 
 The crowning Jewel of the Crown ; a Star 
 Under whose augury triumph'd the Throne. 
 For whom dividing, and again in one 
 Whole perfect Jewel re-uniting, those 
 Twin Jewel-words SALAMAT and AsMAN, 1 
 They hail'd him by the title of SALAMAN. 
 And whereas from no Mother milk he drew, 
 They chose for him a Nurse her name ABSAL 
 So young, the opening roses of her breast 
 But just had budded to an infant's lip ; 
 So beautiful, as from the silver line 
 Dividing the musk-harvest of her hair 
 Down to her foot that trampled crowns of Kings, 
 A Moon of beauty full ; who thus elect 
 Should in the garment of her bounty fold 
 SALAMAN of auspicious augury, 
 Should feed him with the flowing of her breast. 
 1 SALAMAT, Security from Evil; ASMAN, Heaven.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 123 
 
 And, once her eyes had open'd upon Him, 
 They closed to all the world beside, and fed 
 For ever doating on her Royal jewel 
 Close in his golden cradle casketed : 
 Opening and closing which her day's delight, 
 To gaze upon his heart-inflaming cheek, 
 Upon the Babe whom, if she could, she would 
 Have cradled as the Baby of her eye. 1 
 In rose and musk she wash'd him to his lip 
 Press'd the pure sugar from the honeycomb ; 
 And when, day over, she withdrew her milk, 
 She made, and having laid him in, his bed, 
 Burn'd all night like a taper o'er his head. 
 
 And still as Morning came, and as he grew, 
 
 Finer than any bridal-puppet, which 
 
 To prove another's love a woman sends," 
 
 She trick'd him up with fresh Collyrium dew 
 
 Touch'd his narcissus eyes the musky locks 
 
 Divided from his forehead and embraced 
 
 With gold and ruby girdle his fine waist. 
 
 So for seven years she rear'd and tended him : 
 Nay, when his still-increasing moon of Youth 
 Into the further Sign of Manhood pass'd 
 Pursued him yet, till full fourteen his years, 
 
 1 Literally, Mardumak the Mannikin, or Pupil, of the Eye, corre- 
 sponding to the Image so frequently used by our old Poets. 
 
 2 See Appendix.
 
 124 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Fourteen-day full the beauty of his face, 
 That rode high in a hundred thousand hearts. 
 For, when SALAMAN was but half-lance high, 
 Lance-like he struck a wound in every one 
 And shook down splendour round him like a Sun. 
 
 SOON as the Lord of Heav'n had sprung his horse 
 
 Over horizon into the blue field, 
 
 SALAMAN kindled with the wine of sleep, 
 
 Mounted a barb of fire for the Maidan ; 
 
 He and a troop of Princes Kings in blood, 
 
 Kings in the kingdom-troubling tribe of beauty, 
 
 All young in years and courage, 1 bat in hand 
 
 Gallop'd a-field, toss'd down the golden ball 
 
 And chased, so many crescent Moons a full ; 
 
 And, all alike intent upon the Game, 2 
 
 SALAMAN still would carry from them all 
 
 The prize, and shouting " Hal ! " drive home the ball- 
 
 This done, SALAMAN bent him as a bow 
 To Archery from Masters of the craft 
 Call'd for an unstrung bow himself the cord 
 Fitted unhclpt/'* and nimbly with his hand 
 
 1 The same Persian Word signifying Youth and Courage. 
 
 2 See Appendix. 
 
 3 Bows being so gradually stiffened, according to the age and strength 
 of the Archer, as at last to need five Hundred-weight of pressure to
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 125 
 
 Twanging made cry, and drew it to his ear : 
 Then, fixing the three-feather'd fowl, discharged : 
 And whether aiming at the fawn a-foot. 
 Or bird on wing, direct his arrow flew, 
 Like the true Soul that cannot but go true. 
 
 WHEN night came, that releases man from toil. 
 
 He play'd the chess of social intercourse ; 
 
 Prepared his banquet-hall like Paradise, 
 
 Summon'd his Houri-faced musicians. 
 
 And, when his brain grew warm with wine, the veil 
 
 Flung off him of reserve : taking a harp, 
 
 Between its dry string and his finger quick 
 
 Struck fire : or catching up a lute, as if 
 
 A child for chastisement, would pinch its ear 
 
 To wailing that should aged eyes make weep. 
 
 Now like the Nightingale he sang alone ; 
 
 Now with another lip to lip ; and now 
 
 Together blending voice and instrument ; 
 
 And thus with his associates night he spent. 
 
 His Soul rejoiced in knowledge of all kind ; 
 The fine edge of his Wit would split a hair, 
 
 bend, says an old Translation of Chardin, \vho describes all the process 
 up to bringing up the string to the ear, " as if to hang it there '' before 
 shooting. Then the first trial was, who could shoot highest : then, the 
 mark, &c.
 
 126 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 And in the noose of apprehension catch 
 A meaning ere articulate in word ; 
 Close as the knitted jewel of Parwin 
 His jewel Verse he strung ; his Rhetoric 
 Enlarging like the Mourners of the Bier. 1 
 And when he took the nimble reed in hand 
 To run the errand of his Thought along 
 Its paper field the character he traced, 
 Fine on the lip of Youth as the first hair, 
 Drove Penmen, as that Lovers, to despair. 
 
 His Bounty like a Sea was fathomless 
 That bubbled up with jewel, and flung pearl 
 Where'er it touch'd, but drew not back again 
 It was a Heav'n that rain'd on all below 
 Dirhems for drops 
 
 BUT here that inward Voice 
 Arrested and rebuked me " Foolish Jami ! 
 " Wearing that indefatigable pen 
 " In celebration of an alien SHAH 
 " Whose Throne, not grounded in the Eternal World, 
 " If YESTERDAY it were, TO-DAY is not, 
 
 1 The Pleiades and the Great Hear. This is otherwise prettily 
 applied in the Anvar-i Soheili "When one grows poor, his Friends, 
 heretofore compact as THE PLEIADES, disperse wide asunder as THE 
 MOURNERS."
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 127 
 
 " TO-MORROW cannot be." 1 But I replied : 
 
 " O Fount of Light ! under an alien name 
 
 " I shadow One upon whose head the Crown 
 
 " WAS and yet Is, and SHALL BE ; whose Firman 
 
 " The Kingdoms Sev'n of this World, and the Seas, 
 
 " And the Sev'n Heavens, alike are subject to. 
 
 " Good luck to him who under other Name 
 
 " Instructed us that Glory to disguise 
 
 " To which the Initiate scarce dare lift his eyes." 
 
 Sate a Lover in a Garden 
 
 All alone apostrophising 
 
 Many a flower and shrub about him, 
 
 And the lights of Heavn above. 
 Nightingaling tJius, a Noodle 
 Heard him, and, completely puzzled, 
 "What," quotJi he, " and yon a Lover, 
 "Raving, not about your Mistress, 
 "But about the stars and roses 
 
 ' ' What have these to do with Love ? ' ' 
 Answered he : "Oh thou that aimest 
 " Wide of Love, and Lovers' language 
 
 " Wholly misinterpreting; 
 
 1 The Hero of the Story being of YU.NAN IOMA, or GREECE 
 generally (the Persian Geography not being very precise) and so not 
 of THE FAITH.
 
 .128 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 "Sun and Moon are but my Lady s 
 "Self, as any Lover knows ; 
 
 "Hyacinth I said, and meant her 
 
 "Hair her cheek was in the rose 
 
 "And I myself the wretched weed 
 
 "That in her cypress shadow grows." 
 
 AND now the cypress stature of Salaman 
 
 Had reached his top, and now to blossom full 
 
 The garden of his Beauty ; and Absal, 
 
 Fairest of hers, as of his fellows he 
 
 The fairest, long'd to gather from the tree. 
 
 But, for that flower upon the lofty stem 
 
 Of Glory grew to which her hand fell short, 
 
 She now with woman's sorcery began 
 
 To conjure as she might within her reach. 
 
 The darkness of her eyes she darken'd round 
 
 With surma, to benight him in mid day, 
 
 And over them adorn'd and arch'd the bows 1 
 
 To wound him there when lost : her musky locks 
 
 Into so many snaky ringlets curl'd 
 
 In which Temptation nestled o'er the cheek 
 
 Whose rose she kindled with vermilion dew, 
 
 And then one subtle grain of musk laid there, 2 
 
 1 With dark Indigo-paint, as the Archery Bow with a thin Papyrus- 
 like Bark. 
 
 - A Patch, sc. "Noir comme le Muse." I)e Sacy. 
 
 vv
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 The bird of that beloved heart to snare. 
 Sometimes in passing with a laugh would break 
 The pearl-enclosing ruby of her lips ; 
 Or, busied in the room, as by mischance 
 Would let the lifted sleeve disclose awhile 
 The vein of silver running up within : 
 Or, rising as in haste, her golden anklets 
 Clash, at whose sudden summons to bring down 
 Under her silver feet the golden Crown. 
 Thus, by innumerable witcheries, 
 She went about soliciting his eyes, 
 Through which she knew the robber unaware 
 Steals in, and takes the bosom by surprise. 
 
 129 
 
 Burning ivitJi her love ZlJLAIKHA 
 Built a chamber, ivall and ceiling 
 Blank as an untarnisht mirror, 
 Spotless as tJie heart of Yi'SUF. 
 Then she made a cunning painter 
 Multiply her image round it ; 
 Not an inch of wall or ceiling 
 But re-echoing her beauty. 
 TJien amid them all in all her 
 Glory sate she down, and sent for 
 YUSUF she began a tale 
 Of Love and lifted up her veil.
 
 130 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Bashfully beneath her burning 
 
 Eyes he turned away ; but turning 
 
 Wheresoever^ still about him 
 
 Saw ZULAIKHA, j//// ZULAIKHA, 
 
 Still, without a veil, ZULAIKHA. 
 
 But a Voice as if from Canaan 
 
 Calf d him; and a Hand from Darkness 
 
 Touch d ; and ere a living Lip 
 Through the mirage of bewilder d 
 Eyes seduced him, he recoiled, 
 
 A nd let the skirt of danger slip.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 131 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ALAS for those who having tasted once 
 
 Of that forbidden vintage of the lips 
 
 That, press'd and pressing, from each other draw 
 
 The draught that so intoxicates them both, 
 
 That, while upon the wings of Day and Night 
 
 Time rustles on, and Moons do wax and wane, 
 
 As from the very Well of Life they drink, 
 
 And, drinking, fancy they shall never drain. 
 
 But rolling Heaven from his ambush whispers, 
 
 " So in my licence is it not set down : 
 
 " Ah for the sweet societies I make 
 
 " At Morning, and before the Nightfall break ; 
 
 " Ah for the bliss that coming Night fills up, 
 
 " And Morn looks in to find an empty Cup ! " 
 
 Once in Baghdad a poor Arab, 
 After ^<.vcary days of fasting, 
 Into the Khalifatis banquet - 
 Chamber, where, aloft in State 
 HA RUN the Great at supper sate, 
 
 Pushed and pushing li'ith the throng, 
 Got before a perfume breathing 
 Pasty, like the lip tf/SHlRlN 
 
 Luscious, or the Pocf s song.
 
 132 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Soon as seen, the f amis /it clown 
 Seises up and swalloivs doivn. 
 Then his month undaunted wiping 
 "Oh Khalifah, hear me swear, 
 " While I breathe the dust of Baghdad, 
 "Ne'er at any other Table 
 "Than at Thine to sup or dine.'' 1 
 Grimly laugh' d HARUN, and answer* d : 
 "Fool ! who think 'st to arbitrate 
 ' ' What is in the hands of fate 
 l 'Takc, and thrust him from the Gate / 
 
 WHILE a full Year was counted by the Moon, 
 SALAMAN and ABSAL rejoiced together, 
 And neither SHAH nor SAGE his face beheld. 
 They question'd those about him, and from them 
 Heard something: then himself to presence summon'd, 
 And all the truth was told. Then SAGE and SHAH 
 Struck out with hand and foot in his redress. 
 And first with REASON, which is also best ; 
 REASON that rights the wanderer ; that completes 
 The imperfect REASON that resolves the knot 
 Of either world, and sees beyond the Veil. 
 For REASON is the fountain from of old 
 From which the Prophets drew, and none beside : 
 Who boasts of other Inspiration, lies 
 There are no other Prophets than THE WISE. 
 
 &
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 133 
 
 AND first THE SHAH : " SALAMAN, Oh my Soul, 
 
 "Light of the eyes of my Prosperity, 
 
 " And making bloom the court of Hope with rose ; 
 
 " Year after year, SALAMAN, like a bud 
 
 "That cannot blow, my own blood I devour'd, 
 
 " Till, by the seasonable breath of God, 
 
 " At last I blossom'd into thee, my Son ; 
 
 " Oh, do not wound me with a dagger thorn ; 
 
 " Let not the full-blown rose of Royalty 
 
 " Be left to wither in a hand unclean. 
 
 " For what thy proper pastime ? Bat in hand 
 
 "To mount and manage RAKHSH 1 along the Field; 
 
 " Not, with no weapon but a wanton curl 
 
 " Idly reposing on a silver breast. 
 
 " Go, fly thine arrow at the antelope 
 
 "And lion let me not My lion see 
 
 "Slain by the arrow eyes of a ghazal. 
 
 " Go, challenge ZAL or RUSTAM to the Field, 
 
 " And smite the warriors' neck ; not flying them, 
 
 " Beneath a woman's foot submit thine own. 
 
 " O wipe the woman's henna from thy hand, 
 
 " Withdraw thee from the minion'-' who from thee 
 
 " Dominion draws, and draws me with thee down ; 
 
 "Years have I held my head aloft, and all 
 
 " For Thee Oh shame if thou prepare my Fall ! " 
 
 1 " LIGHTNING." The name of RUSTAM'S famous Horse in the 
 SnAn-XAMAH. 
 
 2 " SHAH," and " SHAHID " (A Mistress). 
 
 as
 
 134 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 When before SHIRUYEH'S dagger 
 
 KAI KHUSRAU, 1 his Father, fell, 
 He declared this Parable 
 
 " Wretch ! There was a branch that waxing 
 
 " Wanton o'er the root he drank from, 
 
 "At a draught the living water 
 
 "Drain d w> herewith himself to crown; 
 
 "Died the root and with him died 
 
 "The branch and barren was brought 
 down ! " 
 
 THE SHAH ceased counsel, and THE SAGE began. 
 
 " O last new vintage of the Vine of Life 
 
 " Planted in Paradise ; Oh Master-stroke, 
 
 " And all-concluding flourish of the Pen 
 
 " KUN FA-YAKUN ; 2 Thyself prime Archetype, 
 
 " And ultimate Accomplishment of MAN ! 
 
 "The Almighty hand, that out of common earth 
 
 " Thy mortal outward to the perfect form 
 
 " Of Beauty moulded, in the fleeting dust 
 
 " Inscrib'd HIMSELF, and in thy bosom set 
 
 1 KHUSRAU PARVIZ (Chosroe The Victorious), Son of XOSHIRAVAN 
 The Great ; slain, after Thirty Years of prosperous Reign, by his Son 
 SHIRUYKH, \\-ho, according to some, was in love with his Father's 
 mistress SHI'RIN. See further on one of the most dramatic Tragedies 
 in Persian history. 
 
 2 "BE! AND IT is." The famous Word of Creation stolen from 
 Genesis by the Kuran.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 135 
 
 " A mirror to reflect HIMSELF in Thee. 
 
 " Let not that dust by rebel passion blown 
 
 " Obliterate that character : nor let 
 
 " That Mirror, sullied by the breath impure, 
 
 " Or form of carnal beauty fore-possest, 
 
 " Be made incapable of the Divine. 
 
 " Supreme is thine Original degree, 
 
 " Thy Star upon the top of Heaven ; but Lust 
 
 " Will bring it down, down even to the Dust ! " 
 
 Quoth a Muezzin to the crested 
 Cock "Oh Prophet of the Morning, 
 
 "Never Prophet like to you 
 "Prophesied of Dazvn, nor Muezzin 
 
 " With so shrill a voice of warning 
 
 > 
 " Woke the sleeper to confession 
 
 "Crying, ' LA ALLAH ILLA 'LLAH, 
 
 " MUHAMMAD RASULUnu.' 1 
 "One, incthiuks, so rarely gifted 
 
 "Should have prophesied and sung 
 "In Heavn, the Bird of Heaven among, 
 "Not with these poor hens about him, 
 
 "Raking in a heap of dung." 
 "And," replied the Cock, " in Heaven 
 "Once I was ; but by my foolish 
 
 1 "There is no God but God ; Muhammad is his Prophet."
 
 136 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 "Lust to this uncleanly living 
 ' ' With my sorry mates abont me 
 
 "Thus am fallen. Othenvise, 
 ' '/ were prophesying' Dawn 
 
 "Before the gates of Paradise." 
 
 OF all the Lover's sorrows, next to that 
 Of Love by Love Forbidden, is the voice 
 Of Friendship turning harsh in Love's reproof, 
 And overmuch of Counsel whereby Love 
 Grows stubborn, and recoiling unsupprest 
 Within, devours the heart within the breast. 
 
 SALAMAN heard ; his Soul came to his lips ; 
 Reproaches struck not ABSAL out of him, 
 But cfrove Confusion in ; bitter became 
 The drinking of the sweet draught of Delight, 
 And wan'd the splendour of his Moon of Beauty. 
 His breath was Indignation, and his heart 
 Bled from the arrow, and his anguish grew. 
 How bear it ? By the hand of Hatred dealt, 
 Fasy to meet and deal with, blow for blow ; 
 But from Love's hand which one must not requite, 
 
 1 Jamf, as, may be. other Saintly Doctors, kept soberly to one Wife. 
 But wherefore, under the Law of Muhammad, should the Cock be 
 selected (as I suppose he is) for a " Caution,''' because of his indulgence 
 in Polygamy, however unusual among Birds ?
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 137 
 
 And cannot yield to what resource but Flight ? 
 Resolv'd on which, he victuall'd and equipp'd 
 A Camel, and one night he led it forth, 
 And mounted he with ABSAL at his side, 
 Like sweet twin almonds in a single shell. 
 And Love least murmurs at the narrow space 
 That draws him close and closer in embrace. 
 
 When the Moon of Canaan YUSUF 
 /;/ the prison of Egypt darkened, 
 Nightly from her spacious Palace- 
 Chamber, and its rich array, 
 Stole ZULAIKIIA like a fantom 
 To the dark and narrow dungeon 
 
 Where her buried treasure lay. 
 Then to those about her wondering 
 ' ' Were my Palace, ' ' she replied, 
 "Wider than Horizon wide, 
 "ft were narroiucr tJian an Anfs eye, 
 "Were my Treasure not inside : 
 "And an Ant's eye, if but there 
 "My lover, Heaven's horizon were." 1 
 
 Six days SALAMAN on the Camel rode, 
 And then the hissing arrows of reproof 
 Were fallen far behind ; and on the Seventh 
 
 >
 
 138 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 He halted on the Seashore ; on the shore 
 Of a great Sea that reaching like a floor 
 Of rolling Firmament below the Sky's 
 From KAF to KAF, to GAu and MAHI 1 down 
 Descended, and its Stars were living eyes. 
 The Face of it was as it were a range 
 Of moving Mountains ; or a countless host 
 Of Camels trooping tumultuously up, 
 Host over host, and foaming at the lip. 
 Within, innumerable glittering things 
 Sharp as cut Jewels, to the sharpest eye 
 Scarce visible, hither and thither slipping, 
 As silver scissors slice a blue brocade ; 
 But should the Dragon coil'd in the abyss' 2 
 Emerge to light, his starry counter-sign 
 Would shrink into the depth of Heav'n aghast. 
 
 SALAMAN eyed the moving wilderness 
 
 On which he thought, once launcht, no foot nor eye 
 
 1 Bull and Fish the lowest Substantial Base of Earth. "He first 
 made the Mountains; then cleared the Face of the Earth from Sea; 
 then fixed it fast on GAr ; Gau on Mahi ; and Mahi on Air ; and Air 
 on what? on NOTHING; Nothing on Nothing, all is Nothing 
 Enough." Attar; quoted in De Sacy's Pendnamah, xxxv. 
 
 - The Sidereal Dragon, whose Head, according to the Pauranic (or 
 poetic) astronomers of the East, devoured the Sun and Moon in Eclipse. 
 "But 7i>e know," said Ramachandra to Sir W. Jones, " that the sup- 
 posed Head and Tail of the Dragon mean only the AW, or points 
 formed by intersections of the Ecliptic and the Moon's Orbit." Sir W. 
 |ones' Works, vol. iv., p. 74. 
 
 V />
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 139 
 
 Should ever follow ; forthwith he devis'd 
 Of sundry, scented woods along the shore 
 A little shallop like a Quarter-moon, 
 Wherein, Absal and He like Sun and Moon 
 Enter'd as into some Celestial Sign ; 
 That, figured like a bow, but arrow-like 
 In flight, was feather'd with a little sail, 
 And, pitcht upon the water like a duck, 
 So with her bosom sped to her Desire. 
 
 When they had sailed their vessel for a Moon, 
 And marr'd their beauty with the wind o' the Sea, 
 Suddenly in mid sea reveal'd itself 
 An Isle, beyond imagination fair ; 
 An Isle that all was Garden ; not a Flower, 
 Nor Bird of plumage like the flower, but there ; 
 Some like the Flower, and others like the Leaf; 
 Some, as the Pheasant and the Dove adorn'd 
 With crown and collar, over whom, alone, 
 The jewell'd Peacock like a Sultan shone ; 
 While the Musicians, and among them Chief 
 The Nightingale, sang hidden in the trees 
 Which, arm in arm, from fingers quivering 
 With any breath of air, fruit of all kind 
 Down scatter'd in profusion to their feet, 
 Where fountains of sweet water ran between, 
 And Sun and shadow chequer-chased the green.
 
 140 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Here Iram-garden seem'd in secresy 
 Blowing the rosebud of his Revelation; 1 
 Or Paradise, forgetful of the dawn 
 Of Audit, lifted from her face the veil. 
 
 SALAMAN saw the Isle, and thought no more 
 
 Of Further there with ABSAL he sate down, 
 
 ABSAL and He together side by side 
 
 Together like the Lily and the Rose, 
 
 Together like the Soul and Body, one. 
 
 Under its trees in one another's arms 
 
 They slept they drank its fountains hand in hand 
 
 Paraded with the Peacock raced the Partridge 
 
 Chased the green Parrot for his stolen fruit, 
 
 Or sang divisions with the Nightingale. 
 
 There was the Rose without a thorn, and there 
 
 The Treasure and no Serpent 2 to beware 
 
 Oh think of such a Mistress at your side 
 
 In such a Solitude, and none to chide ! 
 
 Said to WAMIK one who never 
 Knew the Lover's passion "Why 
 "Solitary thus and silent 
 "Solitary places haunting, 
 
 1 Note in Appendix. 
 
 2 The supposed guardian of buried treasure.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 141 
 
 "Like a Dreamer, like a Spectre, 
 
 11 Like a thing about to die ? " 
 WAMIK answer 'd "Meditating 
 "Flight with Azrd 1 to the Desert : 
 "There by so remote a Fountain 
 
 "That, whichever ivay one travelled, 
 "League on league, one yet should never 
 "Sec the face of Man ; for ever 
 " There to gaze on my Beloved ; 
 ' ' Gaze, till Gazing out of Gazing 
 "Grew to Being Her I gaze on, 
 " SHE and I no more, but in One 
 "Undivided Being blended. 
 "All that is by Nature twain 
 "Fears, or suffers by, t lie pain 
 "Of Separation : Love is only 
 
 "Perfect when itself transcends 
 "Itself, and one with' that it loves, 
 "In undivided Being blends." 
 
 WHEN by and by the SllAH was made aware 
 Of that heart-breaking Flight, his royal robe 
 He chang'd for ashes, and his Throne for dust, 
 And wept awhile in darkness and alone. 
 
 1 Wnmik and Azni (Lover and Virgin) two typical Lover:
 
 142 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Then rose ; and, taking counsel from the SAGE, 
 
 Pursuit set everywhere afoot : but none 
 
 Could trace the footstep of the flying Deer. 
 
 Then from his secret Art the Sage-Vizyr 
 
 A Magic Mirror made ; a Mirror like 
 
 The bosom of All-wise Intelligence 
 
 Reflecting in its mystic compass all 
 
 Within the sev'n-fold volume of the World 
 
 Involv'd ; and, looking in that Mirror's face, 
 
 The SHAH beheld the face of his Desire. 
 
 Beheld those Lovers like that earliest pair 
 
 Of Lovers, in this other Paradise 
 
 So far from human eyes in the mid sea, 
 
 And yet within the magic glass so near 
 
 As with a finger one might touch them, isled. 
 
 THE SHAH beheld them ; and compassion touch'd 
 
 His eyes and anger died upon his lips ; 
 
 And arm'cl with Righteous Judgment as he was, 
 
 Yet, seeing those tw r o Lovers with one lip 
 
 Drinking that cup of Happiness and Tears 1 
 
 In which Farewell had never yet been flung," 
 
 He paused for their Repentance to recall 
 
 The lifted arm that was to shatter all. 
 
 '-' A pebble flung into a Cup being a signal for a company to break up.
 
 SALAMAX AXD ABSAL. 143 
 
 The Lords of Wrath have perish'd by the blow 
 Themselves had aimed at others long ago. 
 Draw not in haste the sword, which Fate, may be, 
 Will sheathe, hereafter to be drawn on Thee. 
 
 FARHAD, who the shape/ess mountain 
 Into Jiuman likeness moulded, 
 Under SHI RlN's eyes as slavish 
 Potters' earth himself became. 
 
 Then the secret fire of jealous 
 Frenzy, catching and devouring 
 
 KAI KlIUSRAU, broke into flame. 
 
 With that ancient Hag of Darkness 
 Plotting, at the midnight Banquet 
 FARHAD'S golden cup he poison' d, 
 
 And in Slliuix's eyes alone 
 Reign' d But Fate tliat Fate revenges, 
 Arms SlllRUYFH witli the dagger 
 Tliat at once from Si I IRIX tore, 
 
 And hurl' d him lifeless from his throne. 1 
 
 1 One story is that Khusrau had promised that if Farhad cut through 
 a Mountain, and brought a Stream through, Shirin should be his. 
 Farhad was on the point of achieving his work, when Khusrau sent an 
 old Woman (here, perhaps, purposely confounded with Fate) to tell 
 him Shirin was dead : whereon Farhad threw himself headlong from 
 the Rock. The Sculpture at Beysitun (or Besitiim, where Rawlinson 
 has deciphered Darius and Xerxes, was traditionally called Farhad's.
 
 144 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 BUT as the days went on, and still THE SHAH 
 
 Beheld his Son how in the Woman lost, 
 
 And still the Crown that should adorn his head, 
 
 And still the Throne that waited for his foot, 
 
 Both trampled under by a base desire, 
 
 Of which the Soul was still unsatisfied 
 
 Then from the sorrow of THE SHAH fell Fire ; 
 
 To Gracelessness ungracious he became, 
 
 And, quite to shatter that rebellious lust, 
 
 Upon SALAMAN all his WILL, with all 1 
 
 His SAGE-VlZYR's Might-magic arm'd, discharged. 
 
 And Lo ! SALAMAN to his Mistress turn'd, 
 
 But could not reach her look'd and look'd again, 
 
 And palpitated tow'rd her but in vain ! 
 
 Oh Misery ! As to the Bankrupt's eyes 
 
 The Gold he may not finger ! or the Well 
 
 To him who sees a-thirst, and cannot reach. 
 
 Or Heav'n above reveal'd to those in Hell ! 
 
 Yet when SALAMAN's anguish was extreme, 
 
 The door of Mercy open'd and he saw 
 
 That Arm he knew to be his Father's reacht 
 
 To lift him from the pit in which he lay : 
 
 Timidly tow'rd his Father's eyes his own 
 
 He lifted, pardon-pleading, crime-confest, 
 And drew once more to that forsaken Throne, 
 
 As the stray bird one day will find her nest. 
 
 1 He Mesmerises him ! See also further on this Power of the Wiu,
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 145 
 
 One was asking of a Teacher, 
 "Hoiu, a Father his reputed 
 
 "Son, for his should recognise ? " 
 Said the Master, "By the stripling, 
 "As he groivs to manhood, growing 
 "Like to his reputed Father, 
 
 ' ' Good or Evil, Fool or Wise. 
 
 "Lo the disregarded Darnel 
 
 "With itself adorns the Wheat-Jicld, 
 
 "And for all the vernal season 
 
 "Satisfies the farmer's eye ; 
 "But the Jwur of harvest coming, 
 
 "And the tlirasJier by and by, 
 " Then a barren car shall answer, 
 ' " 'Darnel, and no Wheat, am /. ' ' 
 
 YET Ah for that poor Lover ! " Next the curse 
 
 " Of Love by Love forbidden, nothing worse 
 
 " Than Friendship turn'd in Love's reproof unkind, 
 
 "And Love from Love divorcing" Thus I said: 
 Alas, a worse, and worse, is yet behind 
 
 Love's back-blow of Revenge for having fled ! 
 
 SALAMAN bow'd his forehead to the dust 
 Before his Father ; to his Father's hand 
 Fast but yet fast, and faster to his own
 
 146 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Clung one, who by no tempest of reproof 
 Or wrath might be dissever'd from the stem 
 She grew to : till, between Remorse and Love, 
 He came to loathe his Life and long for Death. 
 And, as from him She would not be divorc'd, 
 With Her he fled again : he fled but now 
 To no such Island centred in the sea 
 As lull'd them into Paradise before ; 
 But to the Solitude of Desolation, 
 The Wilderness of Death. And as, before, 
 Of sundry scented woods along the shore 
 A shallop he devised to carry them 
 Over the waters whither foot nor eye 
 Should ever follow them, he thought so now 
 Of sere wood strewn about the plain of Death, 
 A raft to bear them through the wave of Fire 
 Into Annihilation, he devis'd, 
 
 Gather'd, and built ; and, firing with a Torch, 
 Into the central flame ABSAL and He 
 Sprung hand in hand exulting. But the SAGE 
 In secret all had order'd ; and the Flame, 
 Directed by his self-fulfilling WILL, 
 Devouring Her to ashes, left untouch'd 
 SALAMAX all the baser metal burn'd, 
 And to itself the authentic Gold return'd.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 147 
 
 PART III. 
 
 FROM the Beginning such has been the Fate 
 Of Man, whose very clay was soak'd in tears. 
 For when at first of common Earth they took, 
 And moulded to the stature of the Soul, 
 For Forty days, full Forty days, the cloud 
 Of Heav'n wept over him from head to foot : 
 And when the Forty days had passed to Night, 
 The Sunshine of one solitary day 
 Look'd out of Heav'n to dry the weeping clay. 1 
 And though that sunshine in the long arrear 
 Of darkness on the breathless image rose, 
 Yet, with the Living, every wise man knows 
 Such consummation scarcely shall be here ! 
 
 SALAMAX fired the pile; and in the flame 
 
 That, passing him, consumed ABSAL like straw, 
 
 Died his Divided Self, his Individual 
 
 Surviv'd, and, like a living Soul from which 
 
 The Body falls, strange, naked, and alone. 
 
 Then rose his cry to Heaven his eyelashes 
 
 Wept blood his sighs stood like a smoke in Heaven, 
 
 And Morning rent her garment at his anguish. 
 
 l Some such Legend is quoted by I)e Sacy and D'Herbelot from 
 some commentaries on the Kuran.
 
 .5*5 
 
 148 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 And when Night came, that drew the pen across 
 
 The written woes of Day for all but him, 
 
 Crouch'd in a lonely corner of the house, 
 
 He seem'd to feel about him in the dark 
 
 For one who was not, and whom no fond word 
 
 Could summon from the Void in which she lay. 
 
 And so the Wise One found him where he sate 
 Bow'd down alone in darkness ; and once more 
 Made the long-silent voice of Reason sound 
 In the deserted Palace of his Soul ; 
 Until SALAMAN lifted up his head 
 To bow beneath the Master ; sweet it seemed, 
 Sweeping the chaff and litter from his own, 
 To be the very dust of Wisdom's door, 
 Slave of the Firman of the Lord of Life, 
 Who pour'd the wine of Wisdom in his cup, 
 Who laid the dew of Peace upon his lips ; 
 Yea, wrought by Miracle in his behalf. 
 For when old Love return'd to Memory, 
 And broke in passion from his lips, THE SAGE, 
 Under whose waxing WILL Existence rose 
 From Nothing, and relaxing, waned again, 
 Raising a Fantom Image of ABSAL, 
 Set it awhile before SALAMAN'S eyes, 
 Till, having sow'd the seed of comfort there, 
 It went again down to Annihilation. 
 
 /
 
 p 
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 149 
 
 But ever, as the Fantom pass'd away, 
 
 THE SAGE would tell of a Celestial Love ; 
 
 " ZUHRAH," * he said, "ZUHRAH, compared with whom 
 
 " That brightest star that bears her name in Heav'n 
 
 " Was but a winking taper ; and Absal, 
 
 " Queen-star of Beauties in this world below, 
 
 " But her distorted image in the stream 
 
 '' Of fleeting Matter ; and all Eloquence, 
 
 " And Soul-enchaining harmonies of Song, 
 
 " A far-off echo of that Harp in Heav'n 
 
 " Which Dervish-dances to her harmony." 
 
 SALAMAN listen d, and inclin'd again 
 
 Entreated, inclination ever grew ; 
 
 Until TllE SAGE beholding in his Soul 
 
 The SPIRIT 2 quicken, so effectually 
 
 With ZUHRAH wrought, that she reveal'd herself 
 
 In her pure lustre to SALAMAN's Soul, 
 
 And blotting ABSAL'S Image from his breast, 
 
 There reign'd instead. Celestial Beauty seen, 
 
 He left the Earthly ; and, once come to know 
 
 Eternal Love, the Mortal he let go. 
 
 THE Crown of Empire how supreme a lot ! 
 The Sultan's Throne how lofty ! Yea, but not 
 
 1 " ZUHRAH." The Planetary and Celestial Venus. 
 
 2 "Afa'nd." The Mystical pass-word of the Sufi's, to express the 
 transcendental Xe\v Birth of the Soul. 
 
 /v 
 5 V
 
 150 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 For All None but the Heaven-ward foot may dare 
 To mount The head that touches Heaven to wear ! 
 
 When the Belov'd of Royal augury 
 
 Was rescued from the bondage of ABSAL, 
 
 Then he arose, and shaking off the dust 
 
 Of that lost travel, girded up his heart, 
 
 And look'd with undefiled robe to Heaven. 
 
 Then was his Head worthy to wear the Crown, 
 
 His Foot to mount the Throne. And then THE SHAH 
 
 From all the quarters of his World-wide realm 
 
 Summon'd all those who under Him the ring 
 
 Of Empire wore, King, Counsellor, Amir ; 
 
 Of whom not one but to SALAMAN did 
 
 Obeisance, and lifted up his neck 
 
 To yoke it under His supremacy. 
 
 Then THE SHAH crown'd him with the Golden Crown, 
 
 And set the Golden Throne beneath his feet, 
 
 And over all the heads of the Assembly, 
 
 And in the ears of all, his Jewel-word 
 
 With the Diamond of Wisdom cut, and said : 
 
 " My Son, 1 the Kingdom of The World is not 
 "Eternal, nor the sum of right desire; 
 
 1 One sees Jami taking advantage of his Allegorical Shah to read a 
 lesson to the Living whose ears Advice, unlike Praise, scarce ever 
 reached unless obliquely and by Fable. The Warning (and doubtless 
 with good reason) is principally aimed at the Minister.
 
 >y 
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 151 
 
 " Make thou the Law reveal'd of God thy Law, 
 
 " The voice of Intellect Divine within 
 
 " Interpreter; and considering TO-DAY 
 
 " To-MORROW's Seed-field, ere That come to bear, 
 
 "Sow with the Harvest of Eternity. 
 
 " And, as all Work, and, most of all, the Work 
 
 " That Kings are born to, wisely should be wrought, 
 
 " \Vhere doubtful of thine own sufficiency, 
 
 " Ever, as I have done, consult the Wise. 
 
 " Turn not thy face away from the Old ways, 
 
 " That were the canon of the Kings of Old ; 
 
 " Nor cloud with Tyranny the glass of Justice : 
 
 " By Mercy rather to right Order turn 
 
 " Confusion, and Disloyalty to Love. 
 
 " In thy provision for the Realm's estate, 
 
 " And for the Honour that becomes a King, 
 
 " Drain not thy People's purse the Tyranny 
 
 " Which Thee enriches at thy Subject's cost, 
 
 " Awhile shall make thee strong; but in the end 
 
 " Shall bow thy neck beneath thy People's hate, 
 
 " And lead thee with the Robber down to Hell. 
 
 "Thou art a Shepherd, and thy Flock the People, 
 
 " To help and save, not ravage and destroy ; 
 
 " For which is for the other, Flock or Shepherd ? 
 
 " And join with thee True men to keep the Flock 
 
 " Dogs, if you will but trusty head in leash, 
 
 " Whose teeth are for the Wolf, not for the Lamb,
 
 152 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 " And least of all the Wolf's accomplices. 
 
 " For Shahs must have Vizyrs but be they Wise 
 
 " And Trusty knowing well the Realm's estate 
 
 " Knowing how far to Shah and Subject bound 
 
 " On either hand' nor by extortion, nor 
 
 " By usury wrung from the People's purse, 
 
 " Feeding their Master, and themselves (with whom 
 
 " Enough is apt enough to make rebel) 
 
 "To such a surfeit feeding as feeds Hell. 
 
 " Proper in soul and body be they pitiful 
 
 "To Poverty hospitable to the Saint 
 
 "Their sweet Access a salve to wounded Hearts ; 
 
 "Their Wrath a sword against Iniquity, 
 
 " But at thy bidding only to be drawn ; 
 
 " Whose Ministers they are, to bring thee in 
 
 " Report of Good or Evil through the Realm : 
 
 " Which to confirm with thine immediate Eye, 
 " And least of all, remember least of all, 
 " Suffering Accuser also to be Judge, 
 
 " By surest steps up-builds Prosperity."
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 153 
 
 MEANING OF THE STORY. 
 
 UNDER the leaf of many a Fable lies 
 
 The Truth for those who look for it ; of this 
 
 If thou wouldst look behind and find the Fruit, 
 
 (To which the Wiser hand hath found his way) 
 
 Have thy desire No Tale of ME and THEE, 
 
 Though I and THOU be its Interpreters. 1 
 
 What signifies THE SHAH ? and what THE SAGE ? 
 
 And what SALAMAN not of Woman born ? 
 
 Who was ABSAL who drew him to Desire ? 
 
 And what the KINGDOM that awaited him 
 
 When he had drawn his Garment from her hand ? 
 
 What means THAT SEA ? And what that FlERY PILE ? 
 
 And what that Heavenly ZuiIRAH who at last 
 
 Clear'd ABSAL from the Mirror of his Soul ? 
 
 Listen to me, and you shall understand 
 
 The Word that Lover wrote along the sand.'-' 
 
 THE incomparable Creator, when this World 
 
 He did create, created first of all 
 
 The FIRST INTELLIGENCE 3 First of a Chain 
 
 1 The Story is of Generals, though enacted by Particulars. 
 
 - See page 1 14. 
 
 :i "These Ten Intelligences are only another Form of the Gnostic 
 Daemones. The Gnostics held that Matter and Spirit could have no 
 Intercourse they were, as it were, incommensurate. How then, grant- 
 ing this premise, was Creation possible ? Their answer was a kind of
 
 154 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 Of Ten Intelligences, of which the Last 
 
 Sole Agent is in this our Universe, 
 
 ACTIVE INTELLIGENCE so call'd ; The One 
 
 Distributer of Evil and of Good, 
 
 Of Joy and Sorrow. Himself apart from MATTER, 
 
 In Essence and in Energy He yet 
 
 Hath fashion'd all that is Material Form, 
 
 And Spiritual, all from HIM by HIM 
 
 Directed all, and in his Bounty drown'd. 
 
 Therefore is He that Firman-issuing SHAH 
 
 To whom the World was subject. But because 
 
 What He distributes to the Universe 
 
 Another and a Higher Power supplies, 
 Therefore all those who comprehend aright, 
 
 That Higher in THE SAGE will recognise. 
 
 gradual Elimination. God, the 'Actus Purus,' created an /Eon ; this 
 /Eon created a Second ; and so on, until the Tenth /Eon was sufficiently 
 Material (as the Ten were in a continually descending Series) to affect 
 Matter, and so cause the Creation by giving to Matter and the Spiritual 
 Form. 
 
 " Similarly we have in Sufiism these Ten Intelligences in a corre- 
 sponding Series, and for the same End. 
 
 " There are Ten Intelligences, and Nine Heavenly Spheres, of which 
 the Ninth is the Uppermost Heaven, appropriated to the First Intel- 
 ligence; the Eighth, that of the Zodiac, to the Second; the Seventh, 
 Saturn, to the Third ; the Sixth, Jupiter, to the Fourth ; the Fifth, Mars, 
 to the Fifth ; the Fourth, The Sun, to the Sixth ; the Third, Venus, 
 to the Seventh; the Second, Mercury, to the Eighth; the First, the 
 Moon, to the Ninth; and THK EARTH is the peculiar Sphere of the 
 Tenth, or lowest Intelligence, called THK ACTIVK." E. 1!. C. T. 
 Appendix.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 155 
 
 HIS the PRIME SPIRIT that, spontaneously 
 Projected by the TENTH INTELLIGENCE, 
 Was from no Womb of MATTER reproduced 
 A special Essence called THE SOUL OF MAN ; 
 A Child of Heaven, in raiment unbeshamed 
 Of Sensual taint, and so SALAMAN named. 
 
 And who ABSAL? The Sense-adoring Body, 
 Slave to the Blood and Sense through whom THE 
 
 SOUL, 
 
 Although the Body's very Life it be, 
 Doth yet imbibe the knowledge and delight 
 Of things of SENSE ; and these, in such a bond 
 United as GOD only can divide, 
 As Lovers in this tale are signified. 
 
 And what the Flood on which they sail'd, with those 
 
 Fantastic creatures peopled ; and that Isle 
 
 In which their Paradise awhile they made, 
 
 And thought, for ever ? That false Paradise 
 
 Amid the fluctuating Waters found 
 
 Of Sensual passion, in whose bosom lies 
 
 A world of Being from the light of God 
 
 Deep as in unsubsiding Deluge drown'd. 
 
 And why was it that ABSAL in that Isle 
 So soon deceived in her Delight, and Pie 
 Fell short of his Desire ? that was to show
 
 156 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 
 
 How soon the Senses of their Passion tire, 
 And in a surfeit of themselves expire. 
 
 And what the turning of SALAMAN'S Heart 
 Back to the SHAH, and to the throne of Might 
 And Glory yearning? What but the return 
 Of the lost SOUL to his true Parentage, 
 And back from Carnal error looking up 
 Repentant to his Intellectual Right. 
 
 And when the Man between his living shame 
 
 Distracted, and the Love that would not die, 
 
 Fled once again what meant that second Flight 
 
 Into the Desert, and that Pile of Fire 
 
 On which he fain his Passion with Himself 
 
 Would immolate? That was the Discipline 
 
 To which the living Man himself devotes, 
 
 Till all the Sensual dross be scorcht away, 
 
 And, to its pure integrity return'd, 
 
 His Soul alone survives. But forasmuch 
 
 As from a darling Passion so divorc'd 
 
 The wound will open and will bleed anew, 
 
 Therefore THE SAGE would ever and anon 
 
 Raise up and set before Salaman's eyes 
 
 That Fantom of the past ; but evermore 
 
 Revealing one Diviner, till his Soul 
 
 She fill'd and blotted out the Mortal Love.
 
 SALAMAN AND ABSAL. 157 
 
 For what is ZUHRAH ? What but that Divine 
 
 Original, of which the Soul of Man 
 
 Darkly possest, by that fierce Discipline 
 
 At last he disengages from the Dust, 
 
 And flinging off the baser rags of Sense, 
 
 And all in Intellectual Light arrayed, 
 
 As Conqueror and King he mounts the Throne, 
 
 And wears the Crown of Human Glory Whence 
 
 Throne over Throne surmounting, he shall reign 
 
 One with the LAST and FIRST INTELLIGENCE. 
 
 This is the meaning of this Mystery, 
 Which to know wholly ponder in thy Heart, 
 Till all its ancient Secret be enlarged. 
 Enough The written Summary I close, 
 And set my Seal
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 l< To thy Harim Dividuality 
 
 "No entrance finds," &c. (p. 110.) 
 
 This Sufi Identification with Deity (further illustrated in 
 the Story of Salaman's first flight) is shadowed in a Parable 
 of Jelaluddiu, of which here is an outline. " One knocked at 
 the Beloved's Door ; and a Voice asked from within, 'Who is 
 there ? ' and he answered, i It is I.' Then the Voice said, 
 ' This House will not hold Me and Thee.' And the Door was 
 not opened. Then went the Lover into the Desert, and fasted 
 and prayed in Solitude. And after a Year he returned, and 
 knocked again at the Door. And again the Voice asked, 
 ' Who is there ? ' and he said, ' It is Thyself ! ' and the Door 
 was opened to him." 
 
 "O darlinf/ of tJte soul of Ijidtun 
 
 " To trlwm trith all Jtis school Aristo &o/rx." (p. 117.) 
 
 Some Traveller in the East Professor Eastwick, I think 
 tells us that in endeavouring to explain to an Eastern Cook 
 the nature of an Irish Stew, the man said he knew well enough 
 about ll Aristo.' 1 ' 1 "Ificitun " might almost as well have been 
 taken for "Volant-cut." 1 ' 
 
 " Like Noaltfs, puffed with- Insolence and Pride," tOc. 
 (p. 1.18.) 
 
 In the Kuran God engages to save Noah and his Family, 
 meaning all who believed in the warning. One of Noah's 
 Sons (Canaan or Hani, some think) would not believe. "And 
 the Ark swam with them between the waves like Mountains, 
 and Noah called up to his Son, v/lio was separated from him.
 
 w 
 
 APPENDIX. . 159 
 
 saying, ]' Embark with us, my son, and stay not with the 
 Unbelievers.' He answered, ' I will get on a Mountain which 
 will secure me from the Water.' Noah replied, ; There is no 
 security this Day from the Decree of God, except for him on 
 whom He shall have mercy.' And a Wave passed between 
 them, and he became one of those who were drowned. And 
 it was said, ( Oh Earth, swallow up thy waters, and Thou, oh 
 Heaven, withhold thy rain ! ' And immediately the Water 
 abated, and the Decree was fulfilled, and the Ark rested on 
 the Mountain Al-Judi, and it was said, 'Away with the un- 
 godly People ! ' Noah called upon his Lord, and said, ' Oh 
 Lord, verily my Son is of my Family, and thy Promise is 
 True ; for Thou art of those who exercise judgment.' God 
 answered, ' Oh Noah, verily he is not of thy Family ; this 
 intercession of thine for him is not a righteous work.' " 
 Sale's Kurdn, vol. ii. p. 21. 
 
 '' Finer than any Bridal-puppet, ichich 
 
 " To prove another's Love a Woman sends," &c. (p. 123.) 
 
 In Atkinson's version of the " Kitabi Kulsum Naneh," we 
 find among other Ceremonials and Proprieties of which the 
 Book treats, that when a woman wished to ascertain another's 
 Love, she sent a Doll on a Tray with flowers and sweetmeats, 
 and judged how far her affection was reciprocated by the 
 Doll's being returned to her drest in a Robe of Honour, or in 
 Black. The same Book also tells of two Dolls Bride and 
 Bridegroom, I suppose being used on such occasions ; the 
 test of Affection being whether the one sent were returned 
 with or without its Fellow. 
 
 ''Intent upon the Garnet (p. 124.) 
 
 Chugan, for centuries the Royal Game of Persia, and adopted 
 (Ouseley thinks) under varying modifications of name and 
 practice by other nations, was played by Horsemen, who, 
 suitably habited, and armed with semicircular-headed Bats
 
 160 . APPENDIX. 
 
 or Sticks, strove to drive a Ball through a Goal of upright 
 Pillars. (See Plate.) We may call it "Horse-hockey," as 
 heretofore played by young Englishmen in the Maidan of 
 Calcutta, and other Indian cities, I believe, and now in Eng- 
 land itself under the name of Polo. 
 
 The plate above referred to is accurately copied from an 
 Engraving in Sir William's Book, which, he says (and those 
 who care to look into the Bodleian for it may see), is " accu- 
 rately copied from a very beautiful Persian MS., containing 
 the works of Hafiz, transcribed in the year 956 of the Hejirah, 
 1549 of Christ ; the MS. is in my own Collection. This Delin- 
 eation exhibits the Horsemen contending for the Ball; their 
 short jackets seem peculiarly adapted to the Sport ; we see the 
 MIL, or Goals ; servants attend on foot, holding CHUGANS in 
 readiness for other Persons who may join in the Amuse- 
 ment, or to supply the place of any that may be broken. A 
 young Prince as his PARR, or Feather, would indicate re- 
 ceives on his Entrance into the MEIDAN, or Place of Exercise, 
 a CHUGAX from the hands of a bearded Man very plainly 
 dressed ; yet (as an intelligent Painter at Ispahan assured 
 me, and as appears from other Miniatures in the same Book ) 
 this Bearded Figure is meant to represent Hafiz himself," &c. 
 
 The Persian legend at the Top Corner is the Verse from 
 Hafiz which the Drawing illustrates : 
 
 Shahsuvara khush bemeidan amedy guy bezann. 
 
 THE MUEZZIN'S CRY. (p. 135.) 
 
 I am informed by a distinguished Arabic Scholar that the 
 proper Cry of the Muezzin is, with some slight local varia- 
 tions, such as he heard it at Cairo and Damascus : 
 
 Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar : 
 Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar ; 
 Ishhad la allah ilia 'llah ;
 
 APPENDIX. 161 
 
 Ishhad la allah ilia 'llah ; 
 Ishhad la allah ilia 'llah ; 
 Ishhad Muhammad rasiiluhu : 
 Ishhad Muhammad rasuluhu ; 
 Ishhad Muhammad rasiiluhu ; 
 Haya 'ala 's-salat, Haya 'ala 's-salat, 
 Inna 's-salat khair min an-naum. 
 
 " God is great " (four times); " Confess that there is no God 
 but God " (three times); " Confess that Muhammad is the 
 prophet of God" (tltree times); " Come to Prayer, Come to 
 Prayer, for Prayer is better than Sleep." 
 
 THE GARDEN OF IRAM. (p. 140.) 
 
 "Here Train- Garden swni'd in Sccresy 
 
 u Blowing tlie, Rose-bud of his Iiev<Jat-ion. r 
 
 '* Mahomet," says Sir W. Jones, " in the Chapter of The 
 Morning, towards the end of his Alcoran, mentions a Garden 
 culled ' Irem,' which is no less celebrated by the Asiatic 
 Poets than that of the Hesperides by the Greeks. It was 
 planted, as the Commentators say, by a king named She- 
 dad," deep in the Sands of Arabia Felix, ''and was once 
 seen by an Arabian who 'wandered far into the Desert in 
 search of a lost Camel." 
 
 THE TEN INTELLIGENCES. ( p. 153.) 
 
 A curious parallel to this doctrine is quoted by Mr. Morley 
 (Critical Miscellanies, Series II., p. 318), from so anti-gnostic 
 a Doctor as Paley, in Ch. III. of his Natural Theology : 
 
 " As we have said, therefore, God prescribes limits to his 
 power, that he may let in the exercise, and thereby exhibit 
 demonstrations, of his wisdom. For then /. e., such laws 
 and limitations being laid down, it is as though some Being
 
 1()2 APPENDIX. 
 
 should have fixed certain rules ; and, if we may so speak, 
 provided certain materials ; and, afterwards, have committed 
 to some other Being, out of these materials, and in subordi- 
 nation to these T-ules, the task of drawing forth a Creation; a 
 supposition which evidently leaves room, and induces indeed 
 a necessity, for contrivance. Nay, there may be many such 
 Agents, and many ranks of these. We do not advance this as a 
 doctrine either of philosophy oi % religion ; but we say that the 
 subject may be safely represented under this view; because 
 the Deity, acting himself by general laws, will have the same 
 consequence upon our reasoning, as if he had prescribed 
 these laws to another.' 1 
 
 ag
 
 AGAMEMNON 
 
 A TRAGEDY. TAKEN FROM /ESCHYLUS. 
 
 [LONDON: BERNARD QUARITCH, 13 PICCADILLY, 1876.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 [This Version or Per, version of sEscliylus was 
 originally printed to be given away among Friends, 
 who either knew nothing of the Original, or would be 
 disposed to excuse the liberties taken with it l)y an 
 unworthy hand. 
 
 Much as it is, however, others, whom I do not know, 
 have asked for copies -when I had no more copies to 
 give. So Mr. Qua r itch ventures on publishing it on his 
 own account, at the risk of facing much less indulgent 
 critics. 
 
 I can add little more to the Apology prefixed to the 
 private Edition.] l 
 
 I SUPPOSE that a literal version of this play, if 
 possible, would scarce be intelligible. Even were the 
 dialogue always clear, the lyric Choruses, which make 
 up so large a part, are so dark and abrupt in them- 
 selves, and therefore so much the more mangled and 
 tormented by copyist and commentator, that the most 
 conscientious translator must not only jump at a 
 meaning, but must bridge over a chasm; especially if 
 
 1 The first paragraph of the first impression was as follows : 
 " I do not like to put this version or _/w- version of ^Eschylus 
 into the few friendly hands it is destined for, without some apology 
 to him as well as to them. Perhaps the, best apology, so far as 
 they are concerned, would be my simple assurance that this is the 
 very last Use-maje8t^ I ever shall or can commit of the kind. "
 
 166 PREFACE. 
 
 lie determine to complete the autiphony of Strophe 
 and Antistrophe in English verse. 
 
 Thus, encumbered with forms* which .sometimes, I 
 think, hang heavy on ^Eschylus himself ; l struggling 
 with indistinct meanings, obscure allusions, and even 
 with puns which some have tried to reproduce in 
 English ; this grand play, which to the scholar and the 
 poet, lives, breathes, and moves in the dead language, 
 has hitherto seemed to me to drag and stifle under 
 conscientious translation into the living ; that is to 
 say, to have lost that which I think the drama can 
 least afford to lose all the world over. And so it was 
 that, hopeless of succeeding where as good versifiers, 
 and better scholars, seem to me to have failed, I came 
 first to break the bounds of Greek Tragedy ; then to 
 swerve from the Master's footsteps ; and so, one 
 license drawing on another to make all of a piece, 
 arrived at the present anomalous conclusion. If it has 
 succeeded in shaping itself into a distinct, consistent, 
 and animated Whole, through which the reader can 
 follow without halting,'-' and not without accelerating 
 
 1 For instance, the long *antiphonal dialogue of the Chorus 
 debating what to do or whether do anything after hearing 
 their master twice cry out (in pure Iambics also) that he is 
 murdered. 
 
 ['-' " F wish the reader who knows Beethoven would supply or 
 supplant my earlier lyric Choruses from one of his many works, 
 which seem to breathe ^Eschylns in their language, as Michael 
 Angelo. perhaps, in another. For Cassandra's ejaculations we 
 must resort, I doubt, to a later German music." Xote from first 
 edition.]
 
 PREFACE. 167 
 
 interest from beginning to end, he will perhaps excuse 
 my acknowledged transgressions, unless as well or bet- 
 ter satisfied by some more faithful Interpreter, or by 
 one more entitled than myself to make free with the 
 Original. 
 
 But to re-create the Traged} r , body and soul, into 
 English, and make the Poet free of the language 
 which reigns over that half of the world never dreamt 
 of in his philosophy, must be reserved especially the 
 Lyric part for some Poet, worthy of that name and 
 of congenial Genius with the Greek. Would that 
 every one such would devote himself to one such 
 work ! whether by Translation, Paraphrase, or Meta- 
 phrase, to use Dryden's definition, whose Alexander's 
 Feast, and some fragments of whose Plays, indicate 
 that he, perhaps, might have rendered such a service 
 to ^Eschylus and to us. Or, to go further back in our 
 own Drama, one thinks what Marlowe might have 
 done ; himself a translator from the Greek ; something 
 akin to ^Eschylus in his genius ; still more in his 
 grandiose, and sometimes autlutdostontoHs verse ; of 
 which some lines relating to this very play fall so little 
 short of Greek, that I shall but shame my own by 
 quoting them beforehand ; 
 
 " Is this the face that launched a thousand ships, 
 And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? 
 Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss ! "
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON/E. 
 
 AGAMEMNON, King of Argos. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA, his Queen. 
 
 yEoiSTHUS, his Cousin. 
 
 CASSANDRA, Daughter of King PRIAM, 
 
 HERALD, 
 
 CHORUS of Ancient Councillors. 
 
 The scene is at ARGOS.
 
 AGAMEMXOX. 
 
 [AGAMEMNON'S Palace : a Warder on the 
 Battlements.] 
 
 WARDER. 
 
 [Once more, once more, and once again once more] 
 
 I crave the Gods' compassion, and release 
 
 From this inexorable watch, that now 
 
 For one whole year, close as a couching dog, 
 
 On Agamemnon's housetop I have kept, 
 
 Contemplating the muster of the stars, 
 
 And those transplendent Dynasties of Heav'n 1 
 
 That, as alternately they rise and fall, 
 
 Draw Warmth and Winter over mortal man. 
 
 Thus, and thus long, I say, at the behest 
 
 Of the man-minded Woman who here rules, 
 
 Here have I watch'd till yonder mountain-top 
 
 1 The commentators generally understand these XajA-fiO'jr; O'jva-Ta; 
 to mean Sun and Moon. Klomfield, I believe, admits they may be the 
 Constellations by which the seasons were anciently marked, as in the 
 case of the Pleiades further on in the Play. The Moon, I suppose, had 
 no part to play in such a computation; and, as for the Sun, the 
 beacon-fire surely implies a night-watch.
 
 1.70 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Shall kindle with a signal -light from Troy. 
 And watch'd in vain, coucht on the barren stone, 
 Night after night, night after night, alone, 
 Ev'n by a wandering dream unvisited, 
 To which the terror of my post denies 
 The customary passage of closed eyes, 
 From which, when haply nodding, I would scare 
 Forbidden sleep, or charm long night away 
 With some old ballad of the good old times, 
 The foolish song falls presently to tears, 
 Remembering the glories of this House, 
 Where all is not as all was wont to be, 
 Xo, nor as should Alas, these royal walls, 
 Had they but tongue (as ears and eyes, men say) 
 Would tell strange stories! But, for fear they should, 
 Mine shall be mute as they are. Only this 
 And this no treason surely might 1 but, 
 But once more might I, see my lord again 
 Safe home ! But once more look upon his face ! 
 But once more take his hand in mine! 
 
 Hilloa ! 
 The words scarce from my lips. Have the Gods 
 
 heard ? 
 
 Or am I dreaming wide awake ? as wide 
 Awake 1 am The Light! The Light! The Light 
 Long lookt for, long despair'd of, on the Height ! 
 Oh more to me than all the stars of ni<rht !
 
 AGAMEMNON. 171 
 
 More than the Morning-star ! more than the Sun 
 Who breaks my nightly watch, this rising one 
 Which tells me that my year-long night is done ! 
 When, shaking off the collar of my watch, 
 I first to'Clytemnestra shall report 
 Such news as, if indeed a lucky cast 
 For her and Argos, sure a Main to me ! 
 But grant the Gods, to all ! A master-cast, 
 More than compensating all losses past ; 
 And lighting up our altars with a fire 
 Of Victory that never shall expire ! 
 [Exit Warder. Daylight gradually dawns, and enter 
 slowly Chorus. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 i. 
 Another rising of the sun 
 
 That rolls another year away 
 Sees us through the portal dun 
 
 Dividing night and day 
 Like to phantoms from the crypt 
 Of Morpheus or of Hades slipt, 
 
 Through the sleeping city creeping, 
 Murmuring an ancient song 
 Of unvindicated wrong, 
 Ten year told as ten year long. 
 Since to revenue the great abuse
 
 172 AUAMEMNOX. 
 
 To Themis done by Priam's son, 
 The Brother- Princes that, co-heir 
 Of Atreus, share his royal chair. 
 
 And from the authentic hand of Zeus 
 His delegated sceptre bear, 
 
 Startled Greece with such a cry 
 For Vengeance as a plunder'd pair 
 Of Eagles over their aerial lair 
 Screaming, to whirlpool lash the waves of air. 
 
 II. 
 The Robber, blinded in his own conceit, 
 
 Must needs think Retribution deaf and blind. 
 
 Fool ! not to know what tongue was in tli wind, 
 When Tellus shudder'd under flying feet, 
 
 When stricken Ocean under alien wings ; 
 Was there no Phoebus to denounce the flight 
 From Heav'n ? Nor those ten thousand Eyes of Night ? 
 And, were no other eye nor ear of man 
 Or God awake, yet universal Pan, 
 
 For ever watching at the heart of things. 
 And Zeus, the Warden of domestic Right, 
 
 And the perennial sanctity of Kings, 
 Let loose the Fury who, though late 
 Retarded in the leash of Fate, 
 
 Once loos'd, after the Sinner springs ;
 
 AGAMEMNON. 173 
 
 Over Ocean's heights and hollows, 
 Into cave and forest follows, 
 
 Into fastest guarded town, 
 Close on the Sinner's heel insists, 
 And, turn or baffle as he lists, 
 
 Dogs him inexorably down. 
 
 III. 
 
 Therefore to revenge the debt 
 
 To violated Justice due,' 
 Armed Hellas hand in hand 
 
 The iron toils of Ares drew 
 Over water, over land, 
 Over such a tract of years ; 
 Draught of blood abroad, of tears 
 
 At home, and unexhausted yet : 
 All the manhood Greece could muster, 
 
 And her hollow ships enclose ; 
 All that Troy from her capacious 
 
 Bosom pouring forth oppose ; 
 By the ships, beneath the wall, 
 
 And about the sandy plain, 
 Armour-glancing files advancing, 
 
 Fighting, flying, slaying, slain : 
 And among them, and above them, 
 Crested Heroes, twain by twain,
 
 174 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Lance to lance, and thrust to thrust, 
 Front erect, and, in a moment, 
 
 One or other roll'd in dust. 
 Till the better blood of Argos 
 
 Soaking in the Trojan sand, 
 In her silent half dispeopled 
 
 Cities, more than half unmann'd, 
 Little more of man to meet 
 Than the helpless child, or hoary 
 Spectre of his second childhood, 
 
 Tottering on triple feet, 
 Like the idle waifs and strays 
 Blown together from the ways 
 
 Up and down the windy street. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But thus it is ; All bides the destin'd Hour ; 
 
 And Man, albeit with Justice at his side, 
 Fights in the dark against a secret Power 
 
 Not to be conquer'd and how pacified ? 
 
 V. 
 
 For, before the Navy flush'd 
 
 Wing from shore, or lifted oar 
 To foam the purple brush'd ; 
 While about the altar hush'cl
 
 AGAMEMNON. 175 
 
 Throng'd the ranks of Greece thick-fold, 
 Ancient Chalcas in the bleeding 
 Volume of the Future reading 
 
 Evil things foresaw, foretold : 
 That, to revenge some old disgrace 
 
 Befall'n her sylvan train, 
 Some dumb familiar of the Chace 
 
 By Menelaus slain, 
 The Goddess Artemis would vex 
 The fleet of Greece with storms and checks : 
 
 That Troy should not be reached at all ; 
 Or as the Gods themselves divide 
 In Heav'n to either mortal side 
 
 If ever reach'd, should never fall 
 Unless at such a loss and cost 
 As counterpoises Won and Lost. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Elder of the Royal Twain 
 Listen'd in silence, daring not arraign 
 
 111 omen, or rebuke the raven lips : 
 Then taking up the tangled skein 
 
 Of Fate, he pointed to the ships ; 
 He sprang aboard : he gave the sign ; 
 
 And blazing in his golden arms ahead, 
 Drew the long Navy in a glittering line 
 
 After him like a meteor o'er the main.
 
 176 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So from Argos forth : and so 
 
 O'er the rolling waters they, 
 Till in the roaring To-and-fro 
 
 Of rock-lockt Aulis brought to stay: 
 There the Goddess had them fast : 
 With a bitter northern blast 
 
 Blew ahead and block'd the way : 
 Day by day delay ; to ship 
 And tackle damage and decay ; 
 Day by day to Prince and People 
 
 Indignation and dismay. 
 " All the while that in the ribb'd 
 " Bosom of their vessels cribb'd, 
 " Tower-crowned Troy above the waters 
 " Yonder, quaffing from the horn 
 " Of Plenty, laughing them to scorn " 
 
 So would one to other say ; 
 And man and chief in rage and grief 
 
 Fretted and consumed away. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then to Sacrifice anew : 
 
 And again within the bleeding 
 Volume of the Future reading, 
 
 Once again the summoned Seer 
 Evil, Evil, still fore-drew.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 17 
 
 Day by day, delay, decay 
 
 To ship and tackle, chief and crew : 
 
 And but one way one only way to appease 
 
 The Goddess, and the wind of wrath subdue ; 
 
 One way of cure so worse than the disease, 
 As, but to hear propound, 
 
 The Princes struck their sceptres to the ground. 
 
 IX. 
 
 After a death-deep pause, 
 The Lord of man and armament his voice 
 Lifted into the silence " Terrible choice ! 
 " To base imprisonment of wind and flood 
 
 " Whether consign and sacrifice the band 
 " Of heroes gathered in my name and cause ; 
 " Or thence redeem them by a daughter's blood 
 
 " A daughter's blood shed by a father's hand ; 
 " Shed by a father's hand, and to atone 
 
 "The guilt of One who, could the God endure 
 
 " Propitiation by the Life impure, 
 " Should wash out her transgression with her own." 
 
 X. 
 
 But, breaking on that iron multitude, 
 
 The Father's cry no kindred echo woke : 
 
 And in the sullen silence that ensued 
 An unrelenting iron answer spoke.
 
 178 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At last his neck to that unnatural yoke 
 He bowed : his hand to that unnatural stroke : 
 With growing purpose, obstinate as the wind 
 That block'd his fleet, so block'd his better mind, 
 To all the Father's heart within him blind 
 For thus it fares with men ; the seed 
 Of Evil, sown by seeming Need, 
 Grows, self-infatuation-nurst, 
 From evil Thought to evil Deed, 
 Incomprehensible at first, 
 And to the end of Life accurst. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And thus, the blood of that one innocent 
 Weigh'd light against one great accomplishment, 
 At last at last in the meridian blaze 
 Of Day, with all the Gods in Heaven agaze, 
 And armed Greece below he came to dare- 
 After due preparation, pomp, and prayer, 
 He came the wretched father came to dare 
 
 Himself with sacrificial knife in hand, 
 
 Before the sacrificial altar stand, 
 To which her sweet lips, sweetly wont to sing 
 
 Before him in the banquet-chamber, gagg'd, 
 Lest one ill word should mar the impious thing;
 
 AflAMEMXON. 179 
 
 Her saffron scarf about her fluttering, 
 
 Dumb as an all-but-speaking picture, dragg'd 
 Through the remorseless soldiery 
 
 But soft! 
 
 While I tell the more than oft- 
 Told Story, best in silence found, 
 
 Incense-breathing fires aloft 
 Up into the rising fire, 
 .Into which the stars expire, 
 
 Of Morning mingle ; and a sound 
 As of Rumour at the heel 
 
 Of some great tiding gathers ground ; 
 And from portals that disclose 
 Before a fragrant air that blows 
 Them open, what great matter, Sirs, 
 Thus early Clytemnestra stirs, 
 Hither through the palace gate 
 Torch in hand, and step-elate, 
 Advancing, with the kindled Kyes 
 As of triumphant Sacrifice ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA : CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Clytemnestra, my obeisance 
 
 Salutes your coming footstep, as her right 
 
 Who rightly occupies the fellow-chair 
 
 Of that now ten years widow'd of its Lord. 
 
 But be it at your pleasure ask'd, as answered
 
 180 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 What great occasion, almost ere Night's self 
 Rekindles into Morning from the Sun, 
 Has woke your Altar-fire to Sacrifice ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Oh, never yet did Night 
 Night of all Good the Mother, as men say, 
 Conceive a fairer issue than To-day ! 
 Prepare your ear, Old man, for tidings such 
 As youthful hope would scarce anticipate. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I have prepared them for such news as such 
 Preamble argues. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 What if you be told 
 
 Oh mighty sum in one small figure cast ! 
 That ten-year-toil'd-for Troy is ours at last ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 "If told!" Once more! the word escap'd our ears, 
 With many a baffled rumour heretofore 
 Slipt down the wind of wasted Expectation. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Once more then ; and with unconditional 
 Assurance havin hit the mark indeed
 
 AGAMEMNON. 11 
 
 That Rumour aimed at Troy, with all the towers 
 Our burning vengeance leaves aloft, is ours. 
 Now speak I plainly ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh ! to make the tears, 
 That waited to bear witness in the eye, 
 Start, to convict our incredulity ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Oh blest conviction that enriches you 
 That lose the cause with all the victory. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Ev'n so. But how yourself convinced before ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 By no less sure a witness than the God. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What, in a dream ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 I am not one to trust 
 The vacillating witnesses of Sleep.
 
 182 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Aye but as surely undeluded by 
 
 The waking Will, that what we strongly would 
 
 Imaginates ? 
 
 CLVTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, like a doting girl. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Clytemnestra, pardon mere Old Age 
 That, after so long stajving upon Hope, 
 But slowly brooks his own Accomplishment. 
 The Ten-year war is done then ! Troy is taken ! 
 The Gods have told you, and the Gods tell true 
 But how ? and when ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Ev'n with the very birth 
 Of the good Night which mothers this best Day. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 To-day ! To-night ! but of Night's work in Troy 
 Who should inform the scarcely open'd ear 
 Of Morn in Argos ? 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Hephaistos, the lame God, 
 And spriteliest of mortal messengers ;
 
 AGAMEMNON. 183 
 
 Who, springing from the bed of burning Troy, 
 
 Hither, by fore-devis'd Intelligence 
 
 Agreed upon between my Lord and me, 
 
 Posted from dedicated Height to Height 
 
 The reach of land and sea that lies between. 
 
 And, first to catch him and begin the game, 
 
 Did Ida fire her forest-pine, and, waving, 
 
 Handed him on to the Hermaean steep 
 
 Of Lemnos ; Lemnos to the summit of 
 
 Zeus-consecrated Athos lifted ; whence, 
 
 As by the giant taken, so despatcht, 
 
 The Torch of Conquest, traversing the wide 
 
 ^Egaean with a sunbeam-stretching stride, 
 
 Struck up the drowsy watchers on Makistos ; 
 
 Who, flashing back the challenge, flash'd it on 
 
 To those who watch'd on the Messapian height. 
 
 With whose quick-kindling heather heap'd and fired 
 
 The meteor-bearded messenger refresht, 
 
 Clearing Asopus at a bound, struck fire 
 
 From old Kithseron ; and, so little tired 
 
 As waxing even wanton with the sport, 
 
 Over the sleeping water of Gorgopis 
 
 Sprung to the Rock of Corinth ; thence to the cliffs 
 
 Which stare down the Saronic Gulf, that now 
 
 Began to shiver in the creeping Dawn ; 
 
 Whence, for a moment on the neighbouring top 
 
 Of Arachnaeum lighting, one last bound
 
 184 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Brought him to Agamemnon's battlements. 
 By such gigantic strides in such a Race 
 Where First and Last alike are Conquerors, 
 Posted the travelling Fire, whose Father-light 
 Ida conceived of burning Troy To-night. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Woman, your words man-metal ring, and strike 
 Ev'n from the tuneless fibre of Old Age 
 Such martial unison as from the lips 
 Shall break into full Paean by and by. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, think think think, old man, and in your soul 
 
 As if 't were mirror'd in your outward eye. 
 
 Imagine what wild work a-doing there 
 
 In Troy to-night to-day this moment how 
 
 Harmoniously, as in one vessel meet 
 
 Esil and Oil, meet Triumph and Despair, 
 
 Sluiced by the sword along the reeking street, 
 
 On which the Gods look down from burning air. 
 
 Slain, slaying dying, dead about the dead 
 
 Fighting to die themselves maidens and wives 
 
 Lockt by the locks, with their barbarian young, 
 
 And torn away to slavery and shame 
 
 By hands all reeking with their Champion's blood.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 185 
 
 Until, with execution weary, we 
 
 Fling down our slaughter-satiated swords, 
 
 To gorge ourselves on the unfinisht feasts 
 
 Of poor old Priam and his sons ; and then, 
 
 Roll'd on rich couches never spread for us, 
 
 Ev'n now our sleep-besotted foreheads turn 
 
 Up to the very Sun that rises here. 
 
 Such is the lawful game of those who win 
 
 Upon so just a quarrel so long fought : 
 
 Provided always that, with jealous care, 
 
 Retaliation wreaking upon those 
 
 Who our insulted Gocls upon them drew, 
 
 We push not Riot to their Altar-foot ; 
 
 Remembering, on whichever mortal side 
 
 Engaged, the Gods are Gods in heav'n and earth, 
 
 And not to be insulted unaveng'd. 
 
 This let us take to heart, and keep in sight; 
 
 Lest, having run victoriously thus far, 
 
 And turn'd the very pillar of our race, 
 
 Before we reach the long'd-for goal of Home 
 
 Nemesis overtake, or trip us up ; 
 
 Some ere safe shipp'd : or, launcht upon the foam, 
 
 Ere touch'd the threshold of their native shore ; 
 
 Yea, or that reach'd, the threshold of the door 
 
 Of their own home ; from whatsoever corner 
 
 The jealous Power is ever on the w- atch 
 
 To compass arrogant Prosperity.
 
 186 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 These are a woman's words ; for men to take, 
 Or disregarded drop them, as they will ; 
 Enough for me, if having won the stake, 
 I pray the Gods with us to keep it still. 
 
 [Exit CLYTEMNESTRA.] 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, sacred Night, 
 From whose unfathomable breast 
 Creative Order formed and saw 
 Chaos emerging into Law : 
 And now, committed with Eternal Right, 
 Who didst with star-entangled net invest 
 
 So close the guilty City as she slept, 
 That when the deadly fisher came to draw, 
 Not one of all the guilty fry through crept. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, Nemesis, 
 
 Night's daughter ! in whose bosoming abyss 
 Secretly sitting by the Sinner's sleeve, 
 Thou didst with self- confusion counterweave 
 Mis plot ; and when the fool his arrow sped, 
 
 Thine after-shot didst only not dismiss 
 Till certain not to miss the uilt head.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 187 
 
 III. 
 
 Some think the Godhead, couching at his ease 
 Deep in the purple Heav'ns, serenely sees 
 Insult the altar of Eternal Right. 
 
 Fools ! for though Fortune seems to misrequite, 
 And Retribution for awhile forget ; 
 Sooner or later she reclaims the debt 
 With usury that triples the amount 
 Of Nemesis with running Time's account. 
 
 IV. 
 For soon or late sardonic Fate 
 
 With Man against himself conspires ; 
 
 Puts on the mask of his desire's : 
 Up the steps of Time elate 
 Leads him blinded with his pride, 
 And gathering as he goes along 
 The fuel of his suicide : 
 Until having topt the pyre 
 Which Destiny permits no higher, 
 Ambition sets himself on fire ; 
 In conflagration like the crime 
 Conspicuous through the world and time 
 Down amidst his brazen walls 
 The accumulated Idol falls 
 To shapeless ashes ; Demigod 
 Under the vular hoof down-trod
 
 188 AGAMEMNON, 
 
 Whose neck he trod on ; not an eye 
 To weep his fall, nor lip to sigh 
 For him a prayer ; or, if there were, 
 No God to listen, or reply. 
 
 V. 
 
 And, as the son his father's guilt may rue ; 
 And, by retort of justice, what the son 
 Has sinn'd, to ruin on the father run ; 
 
 So may the many help to pay the due 
 Of guilt, remotely implicate with one. 
 
 And as the tree 'neath which a felon cowers, 
 With ajl its branch is blasted by the bolt 
 Of Justice launch'd from Heav'n at his revolt ; 
 
 Thus with old Priam, with his Royal line, 
 Kindred and people ; yea, the very towers 
 
 They crouch'd in, built by masonry divine. 
 
 VI. 
 Like a dream through sleep she glided 
 
 Through the silent city gate, 
 By a guilty Hermes guided 
 On the feather' d feet of Theft ; 
 Leaving between those she left 
 And those she fled to, lighted Discord, 
 
 Unextinguishable Hate ; 
 
 7K
 
 AGAMEMNON. 189 
 
 Leaving him whom least she should, 
 Menelaus brave and good, 
 Scarce believing in the mutter'd 
 Rumour, in the worse than utter'd 
 
 Omen of the wailing maidens, 
 Of the shaken hoary head: 
 Of deserted board and bed. 
 
 For the phantom of the lost one 
 Haunts him in the wonted places ; 
 Hall and Chamber, which he paces 
 Hither, Thither, listening, looking, 
 
 Phantom-like himself alone ; 
 Till he comes to loathe the faces 
 Of the marble mute Colossi, 
 
 Godlike Forms, and half-divine, 
 
 Founders of the Royal line, 
 Who with all unalter'd Quiet 
 
 Witness all and make no sign. 
 But the silence of the chambers, 
 
 And the shaken hoary head, 
 And the voices of the mourning 
 Women, and of ocean wailing, 
 Over which with unavailing 
 Arms he reaches, as to hail 
 The phantom of a flying sail 
 
 All but answer, Fled ! fled ! fled ! 
 
 False ! clishonour'd ! worse than dead !
 
 190 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At last the sun goes down along the bay, 
 And with him drags detested Day. 
 He sleeps ; and, dream-like as she fled, beside 
 His pillow, Dream indeed, behold ! his Bride 
 Once more in more than bridal beauty stands ; 
 But, ever as he reaches forth his hands, 
 Slips from them back into the viewless deep, 
 On those soft silent wings that walk the ways of 
 sleep. 
 
 VIII. 
 Not beside thee in the chamber, 
 
 Mcnelaus, any more ; 
 But with him she fled with, pillow'd 
 On the summer softly-billow'd 
 Ocean, into dimple wreathing 
 
 Underneath a breeze of amber 
 Air that, as from Eros breathing, 
 
 Fill'd the sail and flew before ; 
 Floating on the summer seas 
 Like some sweet Effigies 
 Of Eirenc's self, or sweeter 
 Aphrodite, sweeter still : 
 With the Shepherd, from whose luckless 
 
 Hand upon the Phrygian hill, 
 Of the three Immortals, She 

 
 AGAMEMNON. 191 
 
 The fatal prize of Beauty bore, 
 Floating with him o'er the foam 
 She rose from, to the shepherd's home 
 
 On the Ionian shore. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Down from the City to the water-side 
 Old Priam, with his princely retinue, 
 By many a wondering Phrygian follow'd, drew 
 
 To welcome and bear in the Goddess-bride 
 Whom some propitious wind of Fortune blew 
 
 From whence they knew not o'er the waters wide 
 
 Among the Trojan people to abide 
 
 A pledge of Love and Joy for ever Yes ; 
 
 As one who drawing from the leopardess 
 
 Her suckling cub, and, fascinated by 
 
 The little Savage of the lustrous eye, 
 
 Bears home, for all to fondle and caress, 
 
 And be the very darling of the house 
 
 It makes a den of blood of, by and by. 
 
 x. 
 
 For the wind, that amber blew, 
 Tempest in its bosom drew ; 
 
 Soon began to hiss and roar ; 
 And the sweet Effigies
 
 192 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 That amber breeze and summer seas 
 Had wafted to the Ionian shore, 
 By swift metamorphosis 
 
 Turn'd into some hideous, hated, 
 
 Fury of Revenge, and fated 
 Hierophant of Nemesis ; 
 Who, growing with the day and hour, 
 Grasp'd the wall, and topp'd the tower, 
 And, when the time came, by its throat 
 The victim City seized, and smote. 
 
 XL 
 
 But now to be resolv'd, whether indeed 
 
 Those fires of Night spoke truly, or mistold 
 To cheat a doting woman ; for, Behold, 
 Advancing from the shore with solemn speed, 
 
 A Herald from the Fleet, his footsteps roll'd 
 In dust, Haste's thirsty consort, but his brow 
 Check-shadow'd with the nodding Olive-bough 
 Who shall interpret us the speechless sign 
 Of the fork'd tongue that preys upon the pine. 
 
 HERALD : CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Fatherland of Argos, back to whom 
 After ten years do 1 indeed return 
 Under the dawn of this auspicious day ! 
 Of all the parted anchors of lost Hope
 
 AGAMEMNON. 193 
 
 That this, depended least on, yet should hold ; 
 Amid so many men to me so dear 
 About me dying, yet myself exempt 
 Return to live what yet of life remains 
 Among my own ; among my own at last 
 To share the blest communion of the Dead ! 
 Oh, welcome, welcome, welcome once again 
 . My own dear Country and the light she draws 
 From the benignant Heav'ns ; and all the Gods 
 Who guard her; Zeus Protector first of all ; 
 And Phcebus, by this all- restoring dawn 
 Who heals the wounds his arrows dealt so fast 
 Beside Scamander ; and not last nor least 
 Among the Powers engaged upon our side, 
 Hermes, the Herald's Patron, and his Pride; 
 Who, having brought me safely through the war, 
 Now brings me back to tell the victory 
 Into my own beloved country's ear ; 
 Who, all the more by us, the more away, 
 Beloved, will greet with Welcome no less dear 
 This remnant of the unremorseful spear. 
 And, oh, you Temples, Palaces, and throned 
 Colossi, that affront the rising sun, 
 If ever yet, your marble foreheads now 
 Bathe in the splendour of returning Day 
 To welcome back your so long absent Lord ; 
 Who by Zeus' self directed to the spot
 
 194 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Of Vengeance, and the special instrument 
 Of Retribution put into his hands, 
 Has undermined, uprooted, and destroy'd, 
 Till scarce one stone upon another stands, 
 The famous Citadel, that, deeply cast 
 For crime, has all the forfeit paid at last. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh hail and welcome, Herald of good news ! 
 Welcome and hail ! and doubt not thy return 
 As dear to us as thee. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 To me so dear, 
 
 After so long despaired of, that, for fear 
 Life's after-draught the present should belie, 
 One might implore the Gods ev'n now to die ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Oh, your soul hunger'd after home ! 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 So sore, 
 
 That sudden satisfaction of once more 
 Return weeps out its surfeit at my eyes.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 195 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And our's, you see, contagiously, no less 
 The same long grief, and sudden joy, confess. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 What ! Argos for her missing children yearned 
 As they for her, then ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Aye ; perhaps and more, 
 Already pining with an inward sore. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 How so ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nay, Silence, that has best endured 
 The pain, may best dismiss the memory. 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Ev'n so. For who, unless the God himself, 
 Expects to live his life without a flaw ? 
 Why, once begin to open that account, 
 Might not we tell for ten good years to come 
 Of all we suffer'd in the ten gone by ? 
 Not the mere course and casual!}' of war, 
 Alarum, March, Battle, and such hard knocks
 
 ,~. 
 
 196 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 As foe with foe expects to give and take ; 
 
 But all the complement of miseries 
 
 That go to swell a long campaign's account. 
 
 Cramm'd close aboard the ships, hard bed, hard 
 
 board : 
 
 Or worse, perhaps, while foraging ashore 
 In winter time ; when, if not from the walls, 
 Pelted from Heav'n by Day, to couch by Night 
 Between the falling dews and rising damps 
 That elf d the locks, and set the body fast 
 With cramp and ague ; or, to mend the matter, 
 Good mother Ida from her winter top 
 Flinging us down a coverlet of snow. 
 Or worst, perhaps, in Summer, toiling in 
 The bloody harvest- field of torrid sand, 
 When not an air stirr'd the fierce Asian noon, 
 And ev'n the sea sleep-sicken'd in his bed. 
 But why lament the Past, as past it is ? 
 If idle for the Dead who feel no more, 
 Idler for us to whom this blissful Dawn 
 Shines doubly bright against the stormy Past ; 
 Who, after such predicament and toil. 
 Boast, once more standing on our mother soil, 
 
 That Zeus, who sent us to revenge the crime 
 Upon the guilt}' people, now recalls 
 To hang their trophies on our temple walls 
 
 For monumental heir-looms to all time.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 197 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, but Old age, however slow to learn, 
 Not slow to learn, nor after you repeat, 
 Lesson so welcome, Herald of the Fleet ! 
 But here is Clytemnestra ; be you first 
 To bless her ears, as mine, with news so sweet. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA : HERALD : CHORUS. 
 
 I sang my Song of Triumph ere he came. 
 
 Alone I sang it while the City slept, 
 
 And these wise Senators, with winking eyes, 
 
 Look'd grave, and weigh'd mistrustfully my word, 
 
 As the light coinage of a woman's brain. 
 
 And so they went their way. But not the less 
 
 From those false fires I lit my altar up, 
 
 And, woman-wise, held on my song, until 
 
 The City taking up the note from me, 
 
 Scarce knowing why, about that altar flock'd, 
 
 Where, like the Priest of Victor}', I stood, 
 
 Torch-handed, drenching in triumphant wine 
 
 The flame that from the smouldering incense rose. 
 
 Now what more needs ? This Herald of the Day 
 
 Adds but another witness to the Night ; 
 
 And I will hear no more from other lips. 
 
 Till from my husband Agamemnon all, 
 
 Whom with all honour I prepare to meet.
 
 198 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Oh, to a loyal woman what so sweet 
 
 As once more wide the gate of welcome fling 
 
 To the lov'd Husband whom the Gods once more 
 After long travail home triumphant bring ; 
 
 Where he shall find her, as he left before, 
 
 Fixt like a trusty watchdog at the door, 
 
 Tractable him-ward,- but inveterate 
 
 Against the doubtful stranger at the gate ; 
 And not a seal within the house but still 
 
 Inviolate, under a woman's trust 
 
 Incapable of taint as gold of rust. 
 
 \_Exit CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 HERALD : CHORUS. 
 A boast not misbeseeming a true woman. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 For then no boast at all. But she says well ; 
 And Time interprets all. Enough for us 
 To praise the Gods for Agamemnon's safe, 
 And more than safe return. And Menelaus, 
 The other half of Argos What of him ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Those that I most would gladden with good news, 
 And on a day like this with fair but false 
 I dare not. 
 
 / v jjf 
 
 *- "
 
 AGAMEMNON. 199 
 
 CHORUS. 
 What, must fair then needs be false ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Old man, the Gods grant somewhat, and withhold 
 As seems them good : a time there is for Praise, 
 A time for Supplication : nor is it well 
 To twit the celebration of their largess, 
 Reminding them of something they withhold. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Yet till we know how much withheld or granted, 
 We know not how the balance to adjust 
 Of Supplication or of Praise. 
 
 * 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Alas, 
 
 The Herald who returns with downcast eyes, 
 And leafless brow prophetic of Reverse, 
 Let him at once at once let him, I say, 
 Lay the whole burden of Ill-tidings down 
 In the mid-market place. But why should one 
 Returning with the garland on his brow- 
 Be stopt to name the single missing leaf 
 Of which the Gods have stinted us !
 
 200 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Alas, 
 
 The putting of a fearful question by 
 Is but to ill conjecture worse reply ! 
 You bring not back then do not leave behind 
 What Menelaus was ? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 The Gods forbid ! 
 Safe shipp'd with all the host. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Well, but how then ? 
 
 Surely no tempest 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 Ay ! by that one word 
 Hitting the centre of a boundless sorrow ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 \Vell, but if peradventure from the fleet 
 Paited not lost? 
 
 HERALD. 
 
 None but the eye of Day, 
 
 Now woke, knows all the havoc of the Night. 
 For Night it was; all safe aboard sail set,
 
 AGAMEMNON. 201 
 
 And oars all beating home ; when suddenly, 
 
 As if those old antagonists had sworn 
 
 New strife between themselves for our destruction, 
 
 The sea, that tamely let us mount his back, 
 
 Began to roar and plunge under a lash 
 
 Of tempest from the thundering heavens so fierce 
 
 As, falling on our fluttering navy, some 
 
 Scatter'd, or whirl'd away like flakes of foam : 
 
 Or, huddling wave on wave, so ship on ship 
 
 Like fighting eagles on each other fell, 
 
 And beak, and wing, and claws, entangled, tore 
 
 To pieces one another, or dragg'd down. 
 
 So when at last the tardy-rising Sun 
 
 Survey'd, and show'd, the havoc Night had done, 
 
 We, whom some God or Fortune's self, I think 
 
 Seizing the helm, had steer'd as man could not, 
 
 Beheld the waste /Egaean wilderness 
 
 Strown with the shatter'd forest of the fleet, 
 
 Trunk, branch, and foliage ; and yet worse, I ween, 
 
 The flower of Argos floating dead between. 
 
 Then we, scarce trusting in our own escape, 
 
 And saving such as yet had life to save, 
 
 Along the heaving wilderness of wave 
 
 Went ruminating, who of those we miss'd 
 
 Might yet survive, who lost: the saved no doubt, 
 
 As sadly speculating after us. 
 
 Of whom, if Menelaus and the Sun,
 
 202 A G A M E 31 N O X . 
 
 (A prayer which all the Gods in Heav'n fulfil ! ) 
 Behold him on the water breathing still ; 
 Doubt not that Zeus, under whose special showers 
 And suns the royal growth of Atreus towers, 
 Will not let perish stem, and branch, and fruit, 
 By loss of one corroborating root. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Helen, Helen, Helen ! oh, fair name 
 And fatal, of the fatal-fairest dame 
 
 That ever blest or blinded human eyes ! 
 Of mortal women Queen beyond compare, 
 
 As she whom the foam lifted to the skies 
 Is Queen of all who breathe immortal air ! 
 
 Whoever, and from whatsoever wells 
 
 Of Divination, drew the syllables 
 By which we name thee ; who shall ever dare 
 In after time the fatal name to wear, 
 Or would, to be so fatal, be so fair ! 
 Whose dowry was a Husband's shame ; 
 Whose nuptial torch was Troy in flame ; 
 Whose bridal Chorus, groans and cries ; 
 Whose banquet, brave men's obsequies ; 
 Whose Hymeneal retinue, 
 The winged clogs of War that flew 
 Over lands and over seas. 
 Following the tainted breeze, 
 
 ^
 
 AGAMEMNON. 203 
 
 Till, Scamander reed among, 
 Their fiery breath and bloody tongue 
 The fatal quarry found and slew ; 
 And, having done the work to which 
 The God himself halloo'd them, back 
 Return a maim'd and scatter'd pack. 
 
 II. 
 
 And he for whose especial cause 
 
 Zeus his winged instrument 
 With the lightning in his claws 
 
 From the throne of thunder sent : 
 He for whom the sword was drawn : 
 Mountain ashes fell'd and sawn ; 
 
 And the armed host of Hellas 
 Cramm'd within them, to discharge 
 On the shore to bleed at large ; 
 He, in mid accomplishment 
 Of Justice, from his glory rent ! 
 What ten years had hardly won, 
 In a single night undone ; 
 And on earth what saved and gain'd, 
 By the raven sea distrain'd. 
 
 III. 
 
 Such is the sorrow of this royal house ; 
 But none in all the City but forlorn
 
 204 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Under its own peculiar sorrow bows. 
 
 For the stern God who, deaf to human love, 
 
 Grudges the least abridgment of the tale 
 Of human blood once pledg'd to him, above 
 The centre of the murder-dealing crowd 
 
 Suspends in air his sanguinary scale ; 
 And for the blooming Hero gone a-field 
 
 Homeward remits a beggarly return 
 Of empty helmet, fallen sword and shield, 
 
 And some light ashes in a little urn. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then wild and high goes up the cry 
 
 To heav'n, "So true ! so brave ! so fair ! 
 
 " The young colt of the flowing hair 
 
 " And flaming eye, and now look there ! 
 
 " Ashes and arms ! " or, " Left behind 
 
 " Unburied, in the sun and wind 
 
 "To wither, or become the feast 
 
 " Of bird obscene, or unclean beast ; 
 
 " The good, the brave, without a grave 
 
 " All to redeem her from the shame 
 
 " To which she sold herself and name ! " 
 
 .For such insinuation in the dark 
 
 About the City travels like a spark ; 
 
 Till the pent tempest into lightning breaks, 
 And takes the topmost pinnacle for mark.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 205 
 
 V. 
 
 But avaunt all evil omen ! 
 
 Perish many, so the State 
 
 They die for live inviolate ; 
 Which, were all her mortal leafage 
 
 In the blast of Ares scatter'd, 
 
 So herself at heart unshatter'd. 
 In due season she retrieves 
 All her wasted wealth of leaves, 
 And age on age shall spread and rise 
 To cover earth and breathe the skies. 
 While the rival at her side 
 Who the wrath of Heav'n defied, 
 By the lashing blast, or flashing 
 Bolt of Heav'n comes thunder-crashing, 
 Top and lop, and trunk and bough, 
 Down, for ever down. And now, 
 He to whom the Zeus of Vengeance 
 
 Did commit the bolt of Fate 
 Agamemnon how shall I 
 With a Paean not too high 
 
 For mortal glory, to provoke 
 
 
 
 From the Gods a counter-stroke, 
 Xor below desert so loft}', 
 
 Suitably felicitate ? 
 Such as chastcn'd Age for due 
 May give, and Manhood take for true.
 
 206 A O A M E M X O X . 
 
 For, as many men comply 
 
 From founts no deeper than the eye 
 
 With other's sorrows ; many more, 
 With a Welcome from the lips, 
 That far the halting heart outstrips, 
 
 Fortune's Idol fall before. 
 Son of Atreus, I premise, 
 
 When at first the means and manhood 
 Of the cities thou didst stake 
 For a wanton woman's sake, 
 
 I might grudge the sacrifice ; 
 
 But, the warfare once begun, 
 Hardly fought and hardly won, 
 Now from Glory's overflowing 
 Horn of Welcome all her glowing 
 
 Honours, and with uninvidious 
 Hand, before your advent throwing, 
 I salute, and bid thee welcome, 
 Son of Atreus, Agamemnon, 
 Zeus' revenging Right-hand, Lord 
 
 Of taken Troy and righted Greece : 
 Bid thee from the roving throne 
 
 Of War the reeking steed release ; 
 Leave the laurel'd ship to ride 
 Anchor'd in her country's side, 
 And resume the royal helm 
 Of thv lone-abandon'd realm :
 
 AGAMEMNON. 207 
 
 What about the State or Throne 
 Of good or evil since has grown, 
 
 Alter, cancel, or complete ; 
 And to well or evil-doer, 
 
 Even-handed Justice mete. 
 
 Enter AGAMEMNON in his chariot, CASSANDRA fol- 
 lowing in another. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 First, as first due, my Country I salute, 
 
 And all her tutelary Gods ; all those 
 
 Who, having sent me forth, now bring me back, 
 
 After full retribution wrought on those 
 
 Who retribution owed us, and the Gods 
 
 In full consistory determined; each, 
 
 With scarce a swerving eye to Mercy's side, 
 
 Dropping his vote into the urn of blood. 
 
 Caught and consuming in whose fiery wrath. 
 
 The stately City, from her panting ashes 
 
 Into the face of the revolted heavens 
 
 Gusts of expiring opulence puffs up. 1 
 
 For which, I say, the Gods alone be thank'd ; 
 
 By whose connivance round about the wall 
 
 We drew the belt of Ares, and laid bare
 
 208 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The flank of Ilium to the Lion-horse, 1 
 Who sprung by night over the city wall, 
 And foaled his iron progeny within, 
 About the setting of the Pleiades. 2 
 Thus much by way of prelude to the Gods. 
 For you, oh white-hair'd senators of Argos, 
 Your measur'd Welcome I receive for just; 
 Aware on what a tickle base of fortune 
 The monument of human Glory stands ; 
 And, for humane congratulation, knowing 
 How, smile as may the mask, the man behind 
 Frets at the fortune that degrades his own. 
 This, having heard of from the wise, myself, 
 From long experience in the ways of men, 
 Can vouch for what a shadow of a shade 
 Is human loyalty ; and, as a proof, 
 Of all the Host that filled the Grecian ship, 
 And pour'cl at large along the field of Troy, 
 One only Chief and he, too, like yourself, 
 At first with little stomach for the cause 
 The wise Odysseus once in harness, he 
 With all his might pull'd in the yoke with me, 
 
 l Dr. Donaldson tells us in his Varronianus (says Paley) that the 
 Lion was the symbol of the Atretdrc; and Pausanias writes that part 
 of the ancient walls of Mycenae was \et standing in his day, and Lions 
 on the gate. Wordsworth's Athens says the Lion wns often set up 
 to commemorate a victory. 
 
 - ''About the settin of the 1'leiades/' is about the end of Autumn. 
 
 >
 
 AGAMEMNON. 209 
 
 Through envy, obloquy, and opposition : 
 And in Odysseus' honour, live or dead 
 For yet we know not which shall this be said. 
 Of which enough. For other things of moment 
 To which you point, or human or divine, 
 We shall forthwith consider and adjudge 
 In seasonable council; what is well, 
 Or in our absence well deserving, well 
 Kstablish and requite ; what not, redress 
 With salutary caution ; or, if need, 
 With the sharp edge of Justice; and to health 
 Restore, and right, our ailing Commonwealth. 
 Now, first of all, by my own altar-hearth 
 To thank the Gods for my return, and pray 
 That Victory, which thus far by my side 
 Has flown with us, with us may still abide. 
 
 Enter CLYTEMNESTRA from the Palace. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Oh Men of Argos, count it not a shame 
 
 If a fond wife, and one whom riper years 
 
 From Youth's becoming bashfulness excuse, 
 
 Dares own her love before the face of men ; 
 
 Nor leaving it for others to enhance, 
 
 Simply declares the wretched widowhood 
 
 Which these ten years she has endured, since first 
 
 *
 
 210 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Her husband Agamemnon went to Troy. 
 
 T is no light matter, let me tell you", Sirs, 
 
 A woman left in charge of house and home 
 
 And when that house and home a Kingdom and 
 
 She left alone to rule it and ten years ! 
 
 Beside dissent and discontent at home, 
 
 Storm'd from abroad with contrary reports, 
 
 Now fair, now foul ; but still as time wore on 
 
 Growing more desperate ; as dangerous 
 
 Unto the widow'd kingdom as herself. 
 
 Why, had my husband there but half the wounds 
 
 Fame stabbed him with, he were before me now, 
 
 Not the whole man we see him, but a body 
 
 Gash'd into network ; aye, or had he died 
 
 But half as often as Report gave out, 
 
 He would have needed thrice the cloak of earth 
 
 To cover him, that triple Geryon 
 
 Lies buried under in the world below. 
 
 Thus, back and forward baffled, and at last 
 
 So desperate that, if I be here alive 
 
 To tell the tale, no thanks to me for that, 
 
 Whose hands had twisted round my neck the noose 
 
 Which others loosen'd my Orestes too 
 
 In whose expanding manhood day by day 
 
 My Husband I perused and, by the way, 
 
 Whom wonder not, my Lord, not seeing here ; 
 
 My simple mother- love, and jealousy
 
 AGAMEMNON. 211 
 
 Of civic treason ever as you know, 
 
 Most apt to kindle when the lord away 
 
 Having bestow'd him, out of danger's reach, 
 
 With Strophius of Phocis, wholly yours 
 
 Bound by the generous usages of war, 
 
 That make the once-won foe so fast a friend. 
 
 Thus, widow'd of my son as of his sire, 
 
 No wonder if I wept not drops, but showers, 
 
 The ten years' night through which I watch'd in vain 
 
 The star that was to bring him back to me ; 
 
 Or, if I slept, a sleep so thin as scared 
 
 Even at the slight incursion of the gnat ; 
 
 And yet more thick with visionary terrors 
 
 Than thrice the waking while had occupied. 
 
 Well, I have borne all this : all this have borne, 
 
 Without a grudge against the wanderer 
 
 Whose now return makes more than rich amends 
 
 For all ungrateful absence Agamemnon, 
 
 My Lord and Husband ; Lord of Argos ; Troy's 
 
 Confounder ; Mainstay of the realm of Greece ; 
 
 And Master-column of the house of Atreus 
 
 Oh wonder not if I accumulate 
 
 All honour and endearment on his head ! 
 
 If to his country, how much more to me, 
 
 Welcome, as land to sailors long at sea, 
 
 Or water in the desert ; whose return 
 
 Is fire to the forsaken winter-hearth ;
 
 212 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Whose presence, like the rooted Household Tree 
 
 That, winter-dead so long, anew puts forth 
 
 To shield us from the Dogstar, what time Zeus 
 
 Wrings the tart vintage into blissful juice. 
 
 Down from the chariot thou standest in, 
 
 Crown'd with the flaming towers of Troy, descend, 
 
 And to this palace, rich indeed with thee, 
 
 But beggar-poor without, return ! And ye, 
 
 My women, carpet all the way before, 
 
 From the triumphal carriage to the door, 
 
 With all the gold and purple in the chest 
 
 Stor'd these ten years ; and to what purpose stor'd, 
 Unless to strow the footsteps of their Lord 
 Returning to his unexpected rest ! 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Daughter of Leda, Mistress of my house, 
 
 Beware lest loving Welcome of your Lord, 
 
 Measuring itself by his protracted absence, 
 
 Exceed the bound of rightful compliment, 
 
 And better left to other lips than yours. 
 
 Address me not, address me not, I say 
 
 With dust-adoring adulation, meeter 
 
 For some barbarian Despot from his slave ; 
 
 Nor with invidious Purple strew my way, 
 
 Fit only for the footstep of a God 
 
 Lihtin from Heav'n to earth. Let whoso \vitt
 
 AGAMEMNON. 213 
 
 Trample their glories underfoot, not I. 
 Woman, I charge you, honour me no more 
 Than as the man I am; if honour- worth, 
 Needing no other trapping but the fame 
 Of the good deed I clothe myself withal ; 
 And knowing that, of all their gifts to man, 
 No greater gift than Self-sobriety 
 The Gods vouchsafe him in the race of life : 
 Which, after thus far running, if I reach 
 The goal in peace, it shall be well for me. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Why, how think you old Priam would have walk'd 
 Had he return'd to Troy your conqueror, 
 As you to Hellas his ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 What then ? Perhaps 
 Voluptuary Asiatic-like, 
 On gold and purple. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Well, and grudging this, 
 
 When all that out before your footstep flows 
 Ebbs back into the treasury again ; 
 Think how much more, had Fate the tables turn'd, 
 Irrevocably from those coffers gone,
 
 214 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 For those barbarian feet to walk upon, 
 To buy your ransom back ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Enough, enough ! 
 I know my reason. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 What ! the jealous God ? 
 Or, peradventure, yet more envious Man ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 And that of no small moment. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 No ; the one 
 Sure proof of having won what others would. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 No matter Strife but ill becomes a woman. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 And frank submission to her simple wish 
 How well becomes the Soldier in his strength ? 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 And I must then submit ?
 
 AGAMEMNON. 215 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, Agamemnon, 
 
 * 
 
 Deny me not this first Desire on this 
 First Morning of your long-desired Return. 
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 But not till I have put these sandals off, 
 
 That, slave-like, too officiously would pander 
 
 Between the purple and my dainty feet. 
 
 For fear, for fear indeed, some Jealous eye 
 
 From heav'n above, or earth below, should strike 
 
 The Man who walks the earth Immortal-like. 
 
 So much for that. For this same royal maid, 
 
 Cassandra, daughter of King Priamus, 
 
 And whom, as flower of all the spoil of Troy, 
 
 The host of Hellas dedicates to me ; 
 
 Entreat her gently; knowing well that none 
 
 But submit hardly to a foreign yoke ; 
 
 And those of Royal blood most hardly broke. 
 
 That if I sin thus trampling underfoot 
 
 A woof in which the Heav'ns themselves are dyed, 
 The jealous God may less resent his crime, 
 
 Who mingles human mercy with his pride. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 The Sea there is, and shall the sea be dried ? 
 Fount inexhaustibler of purple grain 

 
 w 
 
 216 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Than all the wardrobes of the world could drain ; 
 And Earth there is, whose dusky closets hide 
 
 The precious metal wherewith not in vain 
 The Gods themselves this Royal house provide ; 
 For what occasion worthier, or more meet, 
 Than now to carpet the victorious feet 
 Of Him who, thus far having done their will, 
 Shall now their last About-to-be fulfil ? 
 
 [AGAMEMNON descends from his chariot, and goes with 
 CLVTEMNESTRA into the house, CASSANDRA 
 remaining.] 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 About the nations runs a saw, 
 
 That Over-good ill-fortune breeds ; 
 
 And true that, by the mortal law, 
 Fortune her spoilt children feeds 
 To surfeit, such as sows the seeds 
 
 Of Insolence, that, as it grows, 
 
 The flower of Self-repentance blows. 
 
 And true that Virtue often leaves 
 The marble walls and roofs of kings, 
 
 And underneath the poor man's eaves 
 On smoky rafter folds her wings. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus the famous city, flown 
 With insolence, and overgrown,
 
 AGAMEMNON. 217 
 
 Is humbled : all her splendour blown 
 To smoke : her glory laid in dust ; 
 Who shall say by doom unjust ? 
 But should He to whom the wrong 
 Was done, and Zeus himself made strong 
 To do the vengeance He decreed 
 At last returning with the meed 
 
 He wrought for should the jealous Eye 
 
 That blights full-blown prosperity 
 Pursue him then indeed, indeed, 
 Man should hoot and scare aloof 
 Good-fortune lighting on the roof; 
 Yea, even Virtue's self forsake 
 If Glory follow'd in the wake ; 
 Seeing bravest, best, and wisest 
 
 But the playthings of a day, 
 Which a shadow can trip over, 
 
 And a breath can puff away. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA (re-entering). 
 
 Yet for a moment let me look on her 
 
 This, then, is Priam's daughter 
 
 Cassandra, and a Prophetess, whom Zeus 
 
 Has giv'n into my hands to minister 
 
 Among my slaves. Didst tliou prophesy that ? 
 
 Well some more famous have so fall'n before 
 
 v 
 *
 
 V* 
 
 218 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Ev'n Herakles, the son of Zeus, they say 
 Was sold, and bovv'd his shoulder to the yoke. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And, if needs must a captive, better far 
 Of some old house that affluent Time himself 
 Has taught the measure of prosperity, 
 Than drunk with sudden superfluity. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Ev'n so. You hear ? Therefore at once descend 
 From that triumphal chariot And yet 
 She keeps her station still, her laurel on, 
 Disdaining to make answer. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nay, perhaps, 
 
 Like some stray swallow blown across the seas, 
 Interpreting no twitter but her own. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 But, if barbarian, still interpreting 
 The universal laniruaere of the hand.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 219 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Which yet again she does not seem to see, 
 Staring before her with wide-open eyes 
 As in a trance. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, aye, a prophetess 
 
 Wench of Apollo once, and now the King's ! 
 A time will come for her. See you to it : 
 
 A greater business now is on my hands : 
 For lo ! the fire of Sacrifice is lit, 
 And the grand victim by the altar stands. 
 
 \Exit CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Cl-IORUS (continuing). 
 
 Still a mutter'd and half-blind 
 
 Superstition haunts mankind, 
 That, by some divine decree 
 
 Yet by mortal undivin'd, 
 
 Mortal Fortune must not over- 
 Leap the bound he cannot see ; 
 
 For that even wisest labour 
 Lofty-building, builds to fall, 
 
 Evermore a jealous neighbour 
 Undermining floor and wall. 
 
 So that on the smoothest water
 
 220 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Sailing, in a cloudless sky, 
 The wary merchant overboard 
 Flings something of his precious hoard 
 
 To pacify the jealous eye, 
 That will not suffer man to swell 
 Over human measure. Well, 
 As the Gods have order'd we 
 Must take I know not let it be. 
 But, by rule of retribution, 
 
 Hidden, too, from human eyes, 
 Fortune in her revolution, 
 
 If she fall, shall fall to rise : 
 And the hand of Zeus dispenses 
 
 Even measure in the main : 
 One short harvest recompenses 
 
 With a glut of golden grain ; 
 So but men in patience wait 
 
 Fortune's counter-revolution 
 Axled on eternal Fate ; 
 And the Sisters three that twine, 
 Cut not short the vital line ; 
 For indeed the purple seed 
 Of life once shed 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 Phfjubus Apollo !
 
 AGAMEMNON. 2! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hark! 
 The lips at last unlocking. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Phoebus ! Phoebus ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Well, what of Phoebus, maiden ? though a name 
 'T is but disparagement to call upon 
 In misery. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Apollo ! Apollo ! Again ! 
 Oh, the burning arrow through the brain ! 
 Phoebus Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Seemingly 
 Possess'd indeed whether by 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Phoebus ! Phcebus ! 
 
 Thorough trampled ashes, blood, and fiery rain, 
 Over water seething, and behind the breathing
 
 222 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Warhorse in the darkness till you rose again, 
 Took the helm took the rein 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 As one that half asleep at dawn recalls 
 A night of Horror ! 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Hither, whither, Phoebus ? And with whom, 
 Leading me, lighting me 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I can answer that 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Down to what slaughter-house ! 
 Foh ! the smell of carnage through the door 
 Scares me from it drags me tow'rd it 
 Phoebus ! Apollo ! Apollo ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 One of the dismal prophet-pack, it seems, 
 Tint hunt the trail of blood. But here at fault 
 This is no den of slaughter, but the house 
 Of Agamemnon.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 223 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 * 
 
 Down upon the towers 
 Phantoms of two mangled Children, hover and a 
 
 famish'd man, 
 At an empty table glaring, seizes and devours ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thyestes and his children ! Strange enough 
 For any maiden from abroad to know, 
 Or, knowing 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 And look ! in the chamber below 
 The terrible Woman, listening, watching, 
 Under a mask, preparing the blow 
 In the fold of her robe 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Nay, but again at fault : 
 For in the tragic story of this House 
 Unless, indeed, the fatal Helen 
 No woman 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 No Woman Tisiphone ! Daughter 
 Of Tartarus love-grinning Woman above,
 
 224 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Dragon- tail'd under honey-tongued, Harpy-claw'd, 
 Into the glittering meshes of slaughter 
 She wheedles, entices, him into the poisonous 
 Fold of the serpent 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Peace, mad woman, peace ! 
 Whose stony lips once open vomit out 
 Such uncouth horrors. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 I tell you the lioness 
 Slaughters the Lion asleep ; and lifting 
 Her blood-dripping fangs buried deep in his mane, 
 Glaring about her insatiable, bellowing, 
 Bounds hither Phoebus, Apollo, Apollo, Apollo ! 
 Whither have you led me, under night alive with fire, 
 Through the trampled ashes of the city of my sire, 
 F~rom my slaughtered kinsmen, fallen throne, insulted 
 
 shrine, 
 Slave-like to be butcher'd, the daughter of a Royal 
 
 line ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And so returning, like a nightingale 
 Returning to the passionate note of woe 
 B which the silence first was broken ! 
 
 v
 
 AGAMEMNON. 225 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Oh, 
 
 A nightingale, a nightingale, indeed, 
 That, as she "Itys! Itys! Itys !" so 
 I "Helen! Helen! Helen!" having sung 
 Amid my people, now to those who flung 
 And trampled on the nest, and slew the young, 
 Keep crying " Blood ! blood ! blood ! " and none will 
 
 heed ! 
 
 Now what for me is this prophetic weed, 
 And what for me is this immortal crown, 
 Who like a wild swan from Scamander's reed 
 Chaunting her death-song float Cocytus-down ? 
 There let the fatal Leaves to perish lie ! 
 To perish, or enrich some other brow 
 With that all-fatal gift of Prophecy 
 They palpitated under Him who now, 
 Checking his flaming chariot in mid sky, 
 With divine irony sees disadorn 
 The wretch his love has made the people's scorn, 
 The raving quean, the mountebank, the scold, 
 Who, wrapt up in the ruin she foretold 
 With those who would not listen, now descends 
 To that dark kingdom where his empire ends.
 
 220 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Strange that Apollo should the laurel wreath 
 Of Prophecy he crown'd your head withal 
 Himself disgrace. But something have we heard 
 Of some divine revenge for slighted love. 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Aye and as if in malice to attest 
 
 With one expiring beam of Second- sight 
 Wherewith his victim he has curs'd and blest, 
 Ere quencht for ever in descending night ; 
 As from behind a veil no longer peeps 
 The Bride of Truth, nor from their hidden deeps 
 Darkle the waves of Prophecy, but run 
 Clear from the very fountain of the Sun. 
 Ye call'd and rightly call'd me bloodhound; ye 
 That like old lagging dogs in self-despite 
 Must follow up the scent with me ; with me, 
 \Vho having smelt the blood about this house 
 Already spilt, now bark of more to be. 
 For, though you hear them not, the infernal Choir 
 Whose dread antiphony forswears the lyre, 
 Who now arc chaunting of that grim carouse 
 Of blood with which the children fed their Sire, 
 Shall never from their dreadful chorus stop 
 Till all be counter-pledg'd to the last drop.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 227 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hinting at what indeed has long been done, 
 And widely spoken, no Apollo needs ; 
 And for what else you aim at still in dark 
 And mystic language 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Nay, then, in the speech, 
 She that reproved me was so glib to teach 
 Before yon Sun a hand's-breadth in the skies 
 He moves in shall have moved, those age-sick eyes 
 Shall open wide on Agamemnon slain 
 Before your very feet. Now, speak I plain ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Blasphemer, hush ! 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 Aye, hush the mouth you may, 
 But not the murder. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Murder ! But the Gods 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 The Gods ! 
 Who now abet the bloody work within !
 
 228 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Woman ! The Gods ! Abet with whom ? 
 
 CASSANDRA. 
 
 With Her, 
 Who brandishing aloft the axe of doom, 
 
 That just has laid one victim at her feet, 
 Looks round her for that other, without whom 
 
 The banquet of revenge were incomplete. 
 Yet ere I fall will I prelude the strain 
 Of Triumph, that in full I shall repeat 
 When, looking from the twilight Underland, 
 I welcome Her as she descends amain, 
 Gash'd like myself, but by a dearer hand. 
 For that old murder'd Lion with me slain, 
 Rolling an awful eyeball through the gloom 
 He stalks about of Hades up to Day, 
 Shall rouse the whelp of exile far away, 
 His only authentic offspring, ere the grim 
 Wolf crept between his Lioness and him; 
 Who, with one stroke of Retribution, her 
 Who did the deed, and her adulterer, 
 Shall drive to hell; and then, himself pursued 
 By the wing'd Furies of his Mother's blood, 
 Shall drag about the yoke of Madness, till 
 Releas'd, when Nemesis has gorg'd her fill,
 
 AGAMEMNON. 229 
 
 By that same God, in whose prophetic ray 
 Viewing To-morrow mirror'd as To-day, 
 And that this House of Atreus the same wine 
 Themselves must drink they brew'd for me and mine ; 
 I close my lips for ever with one prayer, 
 That the dark Warder of the World below 
 Would ope the portal at a single blow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And the raving voice, that rose 
 Out of silence into speech 
 Out-ascending human reach, 
 Back to silence foams and blows, 
 Leaving all my bosom heaving 
 Wrath and raving all, one knows ; 
 Prophet-seeming, but if ever 
 Of the Prophet-God possest, 
 By the Prophet's self confes-t 
 God-abandon'd woman's shrill 
 Anguish into tempest rising 
 Louder as less listen'd. 
 
 Still - 
 
 Spite of Reason, spite of Will, 
 What unwelcome, what unholy, 
 Vapour of prognostic, slowly 
 Rising from the central soul's
 
 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Recesses, all in darkness rolls ? 
 What ! shall Age's torpid ashes 
 Kindle at the random spark 
 Of a raving maiden ? Hark ! 
 What was that behind the wall ? 
 A heavy blow a groan a fall 
 Some one crying Listen further 
 Hark again then, crying " Murder ! " 
 Some one who then ? Agamemnon ? 
 Agamemnon ? Hark again ! 
 Murder ! murder ! murder ! murder ! 
 Help within there ! Help without there ! 
 Break the doors in ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 ( Appearing from within, where lies 
 AGAMEMNON dead.) 1 
 
 Spare your pain. 
 
 Look ! I who but just now before you all 
 Boasted of loyal wedlock unashamed, 
 Now unashamed dare boast the contrary. 
 Why, how else should one compass the defeat 
 Of him who underhand contrives one's own, 
 Unless by such a snare of circumstance 
 As, once enmesht, he never should break through ? 
 
 1 Herman says, " Tvactis tabulatis " the scene drawing "eon- 
 spicitur Clytemnestra in conclavi stans ad corpus Agamemnonis."
 
 AGAMEMNON. 231 
 
 The blow now struck was not the random blow 
 
 Of sudden passion, but with slow device 
 
 Prepared, and levell'd with the hand of time. 
 
 I say it who devised it ; I who did ; 
 
 And now stand here to face the consequence. 
 
 Aye, in a deadlier web than of that loom 
 
 In whose blood-purple he divined his doom, 
 
 And fear'd to walk upon, but walk'd at last, 
 
 Entangling him inextricably fast, 
 
 I smote him, and he bellow'd ; and again 
 
 I smote, and with a groan his knees gave way ; 
 
 And, as he fell before me, with a third 
 
 And last libation from the deadly mace 
 
 I pledg'd the crowniifg draught to Hades due, 
 
 That subterranean Saviour of the Dead ! l 
 
 At which he spouted up the Ghost in such 
 
 A burst of purple as, bespatter'd with, 
 
 No less did I rejoice than the green ear 
 
 Rejoices in the largess of the skies 
 
 That fleeting Iris follows as it flies. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh woman, woman, woman ! 
 By what accursed root or weed 
 Of Earth, or Sea, or Hell, inflamed, 
 
 l At certain Ceremonies, the Third and crowning Libation \vas to 
 Zeus Soter ; and thus ironically to Pluto. 
 
 ^
 
 232 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Dar'st stand before us unashamed 
 And, daring do, dare glory in the deed ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Oh, I that dream'd the fall of Troy, as you 
 
 Belike of Troy's destroyer. Dream or not, 
 
 Here lies your King my Husband Agamemnon, 
 
 Slain by this right hand's righteous handicraft. 
 
 Like you, or like it not, alike to me ; 
 
 To me alike whether or not you share 
 
 In making due libation over this 
 
 Great Sacrifice if ever due, from him 
 
 Who, having charg'd so deep a bowl of blood, 
 
 Himself is forced to drink it to the dregs. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Woman, what blood but that of Troy, which Zeus 
 
 Foredoom'd for expiation by his hand 
 
 For whom the penalty was pledg'd ? And now, 
 
 Over his murder'd body, Thou 
 
 Talk of libation ! Thou ! Thou ! Thou ! 
 
 But mark! Not thine of sacred wine 
 
 Over his head, but ours on thine 
 
 Of curse and groan, and torn-up stone, 
 
 To slay or storm thee from the gate, 
 
 The City's curse, the People's hate, 
 
 Execrate, exterminate 
 
 > <r- \ 
 
 -J9>-*\ 
 
 ^v
 
 AGAMEMNON. 233 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, aye, to me how lightly you adjudge 
 Exile or death, and never had a word 
 Of counter-condemnation for Him there ; 
 Who, when the field throve with the proper flock 
 For Sacrifice, forsooth let be the beast, 
 And with his own hand his own innocent 
 Blood, and the darling passion of my womb 
 Her slew to lull a peevish wind of Thrace. 
 And him who curs'd the city with that crime 
 You hail with acclamation ; but on me, 
 Who only do the work you should have done, 
 You turn the axe of condemnation. Well ; 
 Threaten you me, I take the challenge up; 
 Here stand we face to face ; win Thou the game, 
 And take the stake you aim at; but if I 
 Then, by the Godhead that for me decides, 
 Another lesson you shall learn, though late. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Man-mettled evermore, and now 
 Manslaughter-madden'd ! Shameless brow ! 
 But do you think us deaf and blind 
 
 Not to know, and long ago, 
 What Passion under all the prate 
 Of holy justice made thee hate 
 Where Love was due, and love where
 
 234 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Nay, then, hear ! 
 
 By this dead Husband, and the reconciled 
 Avenging Fury of my slaughter'd child, 
 I swear I will not reign the slave of fear 
 While he that holds me, as I hold him, dear, 
 Kindles his fire upon this hearth : my fast 
 Shield for the time to come, as of the past. 
 Yonder lies he that in the honey'd arms 
 Of his Chryseides under Troy walls 
 Dishonour'd mine: and this last laurell'd wench, 
 This prophet-messmate of the rower's bench, 
 Thus far in triumph his, with him along 
 Shall go, together chaunting one death-song 
 To Hades fitting garnish for the feast 
 Which Fate's avenging hand through mine has drest. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Woe, woe, woe, woe ! 
 That death as sudden as the blow 
 That laid Thee low would me lay low 
 Where low thou liest, my sovereign Lord ! 
 Who ten years long to Trojan sword 
 Devoted, and to storm aboard, 
 
 In one ill woman's cause accurst, 
 Liest slain before thy palace door 
 
 By one accursedest and worst ! 
 
 -- 
 
 ir IV
 
 AGAMEMNON. 235 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Call not on Death, old man, that, call'd or no, 
 
 Comes quick; nor spend your ebbing breath on me, 
 Nor Helena : who but as arrows be 
 
 Shot by the hidden hand behind the bow. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Alas, alas ! The Curse I know 
 
 That round the House of Atreus clings, 
 About the roof, about the walls, 
 
 Shrouds it with his sable wings ; 
 And still as each new victim falls, 
 
 And gorg'd with kingly gore, 
 Down on the bleeding carcase flings, 
 
 And croaks for " More, more, more ! " 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Aye, now, indeed, you harp on likelier strings. 
 
 Not I, nor Helen, but that terrible 
 
 Alastor of old Tantalus in Hell ; 
 
 Who, one sole actor in the scene begun 
 
 By him, and carried down from sire to son, 
 
 The mask of Victim and Avenger shifts : 
 And, for a last catastrophe, that grim 
 
 Guest of the abominable banquet lifts 
 His head from Hell, and in my person cries
 
 236 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 For one full-grown sufficient sacrifice, 
 
 Requital of the feast prepared for him 
 Of his own flesh and blood And there it lies. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Agamemnon ! Oh, my Lord ! 
 
 Who, after ten years toil'd ; 
 After barbarian lance and sword 
 
 Encounter'd, fought, and foil'd ; 
 Returning with the just award 
 
 Of Glory, thus inglorious by 
 
 Thine own domestic Altar die, 
 Fast in the spider meshes coil'd 
 
 Of Treason most abhorr'd ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 And by what retribution more complete, 
 Than, having in the meshes of deceit 
 Enticed my child, and slain her like a fawn 
 Upon the altar ; to that altar drawn 
 Himself, like an unconscious beast, full-fed 
 With Conquest, and the garland on his head, 
 Is slain ; and now, gone down among the Ghost, 
 Of taken Troy indeed may make the most, 
 But not one unrequited murder boast.
 
 AGAMEMNON. 237 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh, Agamemnon, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead ! 
 
 What hand, what pious hand shall wash the wound 
 Through which the sacred spirit ebb'd and fled ! 
 
 With reverend care compose, and to the ground 
 Commit the mangled form of Majesty, 
 
 And pour the due libation o'er the mound ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 This hand, that struck the guilty life away, 
 The guiltless carcase in the dust shall lay 
 With due solemnities : and if with no 
 Mock tears, or howling counterfeit of woe, 
 On this side earth ; perhaps the innocent thing, 
 Whom with paternal love he sent before, 
 Meeting him by the melancholy shore, 
 Her arms about him with a kiss shall fling, 
 And lead him to his shadowy throne below. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! the fatal rent 
 
 Which through the House of Atreus went, 
 
 Gapes again ; a purple rain 
 
 Sweats the marble floor, and falls 
 
 From the tottering roof and walls, 
 
 The Daemon heaving under; gone
 
 238 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 The master-prop they rested on : 
 And the storm once more awake 
 
 Of Nemesis ; of Nemesis 
 Whose fury who shall slake ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Ev'n I ; who by this last grand victim hope 
 The Pyramid of Vengeance so to cope, 
 That and methinks I hear him in the deep 
 
 Beneath us growling tow'rd his rest the stern 
 Alastor to some other roof may turn, 
 Leaving us here at last in peace to keep 
 What of life's harvest yet remains to reap. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thou to talk of reaping Peace 
 
 Who sowest Murder ! Woman, cease ! 
 
 And, despite that iron face 
 
 Iron as the bloody mace 
 
 Thou bearest boasting as if Vengeance 
 
 Centred in that hand alone ; 
 Know that, Fury pledg'd to Fury, 
 Vengeance owes himself the debts 
 He makes, and while he serves thee, whets 
 
 His knife upon another stone, 
 Against thyself, and him with thee 
 
 
 71.V
 
 AGAMEMNON. 239 
 
 Colleaguing, as you boast to be, 
 
 The tools of Fate. But Fate is Zeus ; 
 
 Zeus who for awhile permitting 
 
 Sin to prosper in his name, 
 Shall vindicate his own abuse ; 
 And having brought his secret thought 
 To light, shall break and fling to shame 
 The baser tools with which he wrought. 
 
 CLVTEMNESTRA : CHORUS. 
 
 All hail, thou daybreak of my just revenge ! 
 
 In which, as waking from injurious sleep, 
 
 Methinks I recognise the Gods enthroned 
 
 In the bright conclave of eternal Justice, 
 
 Revindicate the wrongs of man to man ! 
 
 For see this man so dear to me now dead 
 
 Caught in the very meshes of the snare 
 
 By which his father Atreus netted mine. 
 
 For that same Atreus surely, was it not ? 
 
 Who, when the question came of, Whose the throne? 
 
 From Argos out his younger brother drove, 
 
 My sire Thyestes drove him like a wolf, 
 
 Keeping his cubs save one to better purpose. 
 
 For when at last the home- heartbroken man 
 
 Crept humbly back again, craving no more 
 
 Of his own countr than to walk its soil 
 
 ) 
 
 -1
 
 240 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 In liberty, and of her fruits as much 
 
 As not to starve withal the savage King, 
 
 With damnable alacrity of hate, 
 
 And reconciliation of revenge, 
 
 Bade him, all smiles, to supper such a supper, 
 
 Where the prime dainty was my brother's flesh, 
 
 So maim'd and clipt of human likelihood, 
 
 That the unsuspecting Father, light of heart, 
 
 And quick of appetite, at once fell to, 
 
 And ate ate what, with savage irony 
 
 As soon as eaten, told the wretched man 
 
 Disgorging with a shriek, down to the ground 
 
 The table with its curst utensil dashed, 
 
 And, grinding into pieces with his heel, 
 
 Cried, loud enough for Heav'n and Hell to hear, 
 
 " Thus perish all the race of Pleisthenes ! " 
 
 And now behold ! the son of that same Atreus 
 
 By me the son of that Thyestes slain 
 
 Whom the kind brother, sparing from the cook, 
 
 Had with his victim pack'd to banishment ; 
 
 Where Nemesis (so sinners from some nook, 
 
 Whence least they think assailable, assailed) 
 
 Rear'd me from infancy till fully grown, 
 
 To claim in full my father's bloody due. 
 
 Aye, I it was none other far away 
 
 Who spun the thread, which gathering day by day, 
 
 Mesh after mesh, inch upon inch, at last
 
 AGAMEMNON. 241 
 
 Reach'd him, and wound about him, as he lay, 
 And in the supper of his smoking Troy 
 Devour'd his own destruction scarce condign 
 Return for that his Father forc'd on mine. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 yEgisthus, only creatures of base breed 
 Insult the fallen ; fall'n too, as you boast, 
 By one who plann'd but dared not do the deed. 
 This is your hour of triumph. But take heed ; 
 The blood of Atreus is not all outrun 
 With this slain King, but flowing in a son, 
 Who saved by such an exile as your own 
 For such a counter-retribution 
 
 yEGISTHUS. 
 
 Oh, 
 
 You then, the nether benchers of the realm, 
 Dare open tongue on those who rule the helm ? 
 Take heed yourselves ; for, old and dull of wit, 
 And harden'd as your mouth against the bit, 
 Be wise in time ; kick not against the spurs ; 
 Remembering Princes are shrewd taskmasters. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Beware thyself, bewaring me ; 
 Remembering that, too sharply stirred,
 
 242 AGAMEMNON. 
 
 X 
 
 The spurrer need beware the spurred ; 
 As thou of me ; whose single word 
 Shall rouse the City yea, the very 
 Stones you walk upon, in thunder 
 Gathering o'er your head, to bury 
 
 Thee and thine Adult'ress under ! 
 
 
 
 yEGISTHUS. 
 
 Raven, that with croaking jaws 
 
 Unorphean, undivine, 
 After you no City draws ; 
 
 And if any vengeance, mine 
 Upon your wither'd shoulders 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Thine ! 
 
 Who daring not to strike the blow 
 Thy worse than woman-craft design'd, 
 To worse than woman 
 
 /EGISTHUS. 
 
 Soldiers, ho ! 
 
 CLYTEMNESTRA. 
 
 Softly, good /Egisthus, softly ; let the sword that has 
 so deep
 
 AGAMEMNON. 243 
 
 Drunk of righteous Retribution now within the scab- 
 bard sleep ! 
 
 And if Nemesis be sated with the blood already spilt, 
 Even so let us, nor carry lawful Justice into Guilt. 
 Sheath your sword ; dismiss your spears ; and you, 
 
 old men, your howling cease, 
 And, ere ill blood come to running, each unto his 
 
 home in peace, 
 Recognising what is done for done indeed, as done 
 
 it is, 
 And husbanding your scanty breath to pray that 
 
 nothing more amiss. 
 Farewell. Meanwhile, you and I, ^Egisthus, shall 
 
 deliberate, 
 When the storm is blowing over, how to settle House 
 
 and State.
 
 < 
 
 5K1
 
 EUPHRANOR.
 
 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 A MAY-DAY CONVERSATION AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 " TIS FORTY YEARS SINCE. 
 
 [ Written in the forties (see reference to Wordsworth 's age on p. jj i ') . 
 first published in 1851 ; again in 1854. ; now reprinted from the -undated 
 private impression (of i8ji ?) made by Billing and Son at Gnildford. ]
 
 J ~-5^ 
 
 YV
 
 EUPHEA^OE. 
 
 DURING the time of my pretending to practise Medi- 
 cine at Cambridge, I was aroused, one fine fore- 
 noon of May, by the sound of some one coining up my 
 staircase, two or three steps at a time it seemed to me ; 
 then, directly after, a smart rapping at the door ; and. 
 before I could say " Come in," Euphranor had opened 
 it, and, striding up to me, seized my arm with his usual 
 eagerness, and told me I must go out with him " It- 
 was such a day sun shining breeze blowing 
 hedges and trees in full leaf. He had been to Ches- 
 terton, (he said,) and pull'd back with a man who now 
 left him in the lurch ; and I must take his place." I 
 told him what a poor hand at the oar I was, and, such 
 walnut-shells as these Cambridge boats were, I was sure 
 a strong fellow like him must rejoice in getting a whole 
 Eight-oar to himself once in a while. He laughed, and 
 said, " The pace, the pace was the thing However, that 
 was all nothing, but in short, I must go with him, 
 whether for a row, or a walk in the fields, or a game of 
 Billiards at Chesterton whatever I liked only go I 
 must.' 1 After a little more banter, about some possible 
 Patients, I got up ; (dosed some very weary medical
 
 250 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Treatise I was reading; on with coat and hat; and in 
 three minutes we had run downstairs, out into the 
 open air ; where both of us calling out together "What 
 a day ! " it was, we struck out briskly for the old 
 Wooden Bridge, where Euphranor said his boat was 
 lying. 
 
 " By-the-by," said I, as we went along, " it would be 
 a charity to knock up poor Lexilogus, and carry him 
 along with us." 
 
 Not much of a charity, Euphranor thought Lexilo- 
 gus would so much rather be left with his books. 
 Which I declared was the very reason he should be 
 taken from them ; and Euphranor, who was quite good- 
 humour'd, and wish'd Lexilogus all well (for we were 
 all three Yorkshiremen, whose families lived no great 
 distance asunder), easily consented. So, without more 
 ado, we turn'd into Trinity Great gate, and round by 
 the right up a staircase to the attic where Lexilogus 
 kept. 
 
 The door was sported, as they say, but I knew he 
 must be within ; so, using the privilege of an old friend, 
 I shouted to him through the letter-slit. Presently we 
 heard the sound of books falling, and soon after Lexilo- 
 gus' thin, pale, and spectacled face appear'd at the half- 
 open'd door. He was always glad to see me, I believe, 
 howsoever I disturbed him ; and he smiled as he laid his 
 hand in mine, rather than return'd its pressure : work- 
 ing hard, as he was, poor fellow, for a Fellowship that 
 should repay all the expense of sending him to College.
 
 EUPHRANOR. 251 
 
 The tea-things were still on the table, and I asked 
 him (though I knew well enough) if he were so fashion- 
 able as only just to have breakfasted ? 
 
 " Oh long ago directly after morning Chapel." 
 
 I then told him he must put his books away, and 
 come out on the river with Euphranor and myself. 
 
 " He could not possibly," he thought; "not so early, 
 at least preparing for some Examination, or course 
 of Lectures r 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow," said Euphranor, 
 " that is the very reason, says the Doctor ; and he will 
 have his way. So make haste." 
 
 I then told him (what I then suddenly remembered) 
 that, beside other reasons, his old Aunt, a Cambridge 
 tradesman's widow whom I attended, and whom Lexilo- 
 gus help'd to support out of his own little savings, 
 wanted to see him on some business. He should go 
 with us to Chesterton, where she lodged ; visit her 
 while Euphranor and I play'd a game or two of Bill- 
 iards at the Inn; and afterwards (for I knew how 
 little of an oars-man he was) we would all three take a 
 good stretch into the Fields together. 
 
 He supposed " we should be back in good time '' ; 
 about which I would make no condition ; and he then 
 resigned himself to Destiny. While he was busy chang- 
 ing and brushing his clothes, Euphranor, who had 
 walk'd somewhat impatiently about the room, looking 
 now at the books, and now through the window at some 
 white pigeons wheeling about in the clear sky, went up
 
 252 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 to the mantelpiece and call'd out, " What a fine new 
 pair of screens Lexilogus has got ! the present, doubt- 
 less, of some fair Lady." 
 
 Lexilogus said they were a present from his sister on 
 his birthday; and coming up to me, brush in hand, 
 asked if I recognised the views represented on them? 
 
 ''Quite well, quite well," I said "the old Church 
 the Yew tree the Parsonage one cannot mistake 
 them." 
 
 " And were they not beautifully done ? " 
 
 And I answer'd without hesitation, "they were;'' for 
 I knew the girl who had painted them, and that (what- 
 ever they might be in point of Art) a still finer spirit 
 had guided her hand. 
 
 At last, after a little hesitation as to whether he 
 should wear cap and gown, (which I decided he should, 
 for this time only, not,) Lexilogus was ready; and call- 
 ing out on the staircase to some invisible Bed-maker, 
 that his books should not be meddled with, we ran 
 downstairs, crossed the Great Court through the 
 Screens, as they are call'd, perpetually traversal by 
 Gyp, Cook, Bed-maker, and redolent of perpetual Din- 
 ner; and so, through the cloisters of Neville's Court, 
 out upon the open green before the Library. The sun 
 shone broad on the new-shaven expanse of grass, while 
 holiday-seeming people saunter'd along the River-side, 
 and under the trees, now flourishing in freshest green 
 the Chestnut especially in full fan, and leaning down 
 liis white cones over the sluggish current, which seem'd 
 
 to
 
 EUPHKANOR. 253 
 
 indeed fitter for the slow merchandise of coal, than to 
 wash the walls and flow through the groves of Academe. 
 
 We now consider'd that we had miss'd our proper 
 point of embarkation ; but this was easily set right at a 
 slight expense of College propriety. Euphranor calling- 
 out to some one who had his boat in charge along with 
 others by the wooden bridge, we descended the grassy 
 slope, stepp'd in, with due caution on the part of Lexilo- 
 gus and myself, and settled the order of our voyage. 
 Euphrauor and I were to pull, and Lexilogus (as I at 
 first proposed) to steer. But seeing he was somewhat 
 shy of meddling in the matter, I agreed to take all the 
 blame of my own awkwardness 011 myself. 
 
 "And just take care of this, will you. Lexilogus ?'' 
 said Euphranor, handing him a book which fell out of 
 the pocket of the coat he was taking off. 
 
 " Oh, books, books ! " I exclaimed. " I thought we 
 were to steer clear of them, at any rate. Now we shall 
 have Lexilogus reading all the way, instead of looking 
 about him, and inhaling the fresh air unalloy'd. What 
 is it Greek, Algebra, German, or what ? " 
 
 " None of these, however," Euphranor said, " but only 
 Digby's Godefridus " ; and then asking me whether I was 
 ready, and I calling out, "Ay, ay, Sir," our oars plash' d 
 in the water. Safe through the main arch of Trinity 
 bridge, we shot past the Library, I exerting myself so 
 strenuously (as bad rowers are apt to do), that I almost 
 drove the boat upon a very unobtrusive angle of the 
 College buildings. This danger past, however, we got
 
 254 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 on better ; Euphranor often looking behind him to an- 
 ticipate our way, and counteracting with his experienced 
 oar the many misdirections of mine. Amid all this, he 
 had leisure to ask me if I knew those same Digby books? 
 
 'Some of them," I told him "the ' Broad Stone of 
 Honour,' for one ; indeed I had the first Protestant edi- 
 tion of it, now very rare." 
 
 " But not so good as the enlarged Catholic," said 
 Euphranor, "of which this Godefridus is part." 
 
 " Perhaps not," I replied ; "but then, on the other hand, 
 not so Catholic ; which you and Lexilogus will agree 
 with me is much in its favour." 
 
 Which I said slyly, because of Euphranor's being 
 rather taken with the Oxford doctrine just then coming 
 into vogue. 
 
 " You cannot forgive him that," said he. 
 
 "Nay, nay," said I, "one can forgive a true man any- 
 thing." 
 
 And then Euphranor ask'd me, " Did I not remember 
 Digby himself at College ? perhaps know him f " 
 
 " Not that," I answer'd, but remembered him very well. 
 " A grand, swarthy Fellow, who might have stept out of 
 the canvas of some knightly portrait in his Father's 
 hall perhaps the living image of one sleeping under 
 some cross-legg'd Effigies in the Church." 
 
 " And, Hare says, really the Knight at heart that he 
 represented in his Books." 
 
 " At least," I answered, " he pull'd a very good stroke 
 on this river, where I am now labouring so awkwardly."
 
 YV 
 
 EUPHRAXOR. 255 
 
 Iii which and other such talk, interrupted by the little 
 accidents of our voyage, we had threaded our way 
 through the closely-packt barges at Magdalen ; through 
 the Locks; and so for a pull of three or four miles 
 down the river and back again to the Ferry ; where we 
 surrender'd our boat, and footed it over the fields to 
 Chesterton, at whose Church we came just as its quiet 
 chimes were preluding Twelve o'clock. Close by was 
 the humble house whither Lexilogus was bound. I 
 look'd in fora moment at the old lady, and left him with 
 her, privately desiring him to join us as soon as he could 
 at the Three Tuns Inn, which I preferr'd to any younger 
 rival, because of the many pleasant hours I had spent 
 there in my own College days, some twenty years ago. 
 
 When Euphraiior and I got there, we found all the 
 tables occupied; but one, as usual, would be at our service 
 before long. Meanwhile, ordering some light ale after 
 us, we went into the Bowling-green, with its Lilac bushes 
 now in full bloom and full odour ; and there we found, 
 sitting alone upon a bench, Lycion, with a cigar in his 
 mouth, and rolling the bowls about lazily with his foot. 
 
 " What ! Lycion ! and all alone ! " I call'd out. 
 
 He nodded to us both waiting, he said, till some 
 men had finish'd a pool of billiards upstairs a great 
 bore for it was only just begun ! and one of the fel- 
 lows Tt a man I particularly detest." 
 
 " Come and console yourself with some ale, then," 
 said I. "Are you ever foolish enough to go pulling on 
 the river, as we have been doing?"
 
 256 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 " Not very often in hot weather ; he did not see the 
 use/' he said, "of perspiring to no purpose." 
 
 " Just so," replied I, " though Euphranor has not 
 turn'd a hair, you see, owing to the good condition he is 
 in. But here comes our liquor ; and ' Sweet is Pleasure 
 after Pain,' at any rate.'' 
 
 We then sat down in one of those little arbours cut 
 into the Lilac bushes round the Bowling-green ; and 
 while Euphranor and I were quaffing each a glass of 
 Home-brew'd, Lycion took up the volume of Digby, 
 which Euphranor had laid on the table. 
 
 u Ah, Lycion," said Euphranor, putting down his 
 glass, " there is one would have put yon up to a longer 
 and stronger pull than we have had to-day." 
 
 " Chivalry -" said Lycion, glancing carelessly over 
 the leaves ; " Don't you remember," addressing me 
 " what an absurd thing that Eglinton Tournament was ? 
 What a complete failure ! There was the Queen of Beauty 
 on her throne Lady Seymour who alone of all the 
 whole affair was not a .sham and the Heralds, and the 
 Knights in full Armour on their horses they had been 
 practising for months, I believe but unluckily, at the 
 very moment of Onset, the rain began, and the Knights 
 threw down their lances, and put up their umbrellas/' 
 
 I laugh'd. and said I remembered something like it 
 had occurr'd, though not to that umbrella-point, which 
 I thought was a theatrical, or Louis Philippe Burlesque 
 on the affair. And I asked Euphranor " what he had to 
 sav in defence of the Tournament"?
 
 EUPHRANOR. 257 
 
 " Nothing at all/' he replied. "It was a silly thing, 
 and fit to be laughed at for the very reason that it was 
 a sham, as Lycion says. As Digby himself tells us," he 
 went on, taking the Book, and rapidly turning over .the 
 leaves " Here it is " and he read : " ' The error that 
 leads men to doubt of this first proposition' that is, 
 you know, that Chivalry is not a thing past, but, like all 
 things of Beauty, eternal ' the error that leads men to 
 doubt of this first proposition consists of their sup- 
 posing that Tournaments, steel Panoply, and Coat arms, 
 and Aristocratic institutions, are essential to Chivalry ; 
 whereas, these are, in fact, only accidental attendants 
 upon it, subject to the influence of Time, which changes 
 all such things.' " 
 
 " I suppose," said Lycion, " your man whatever his 
 name is would carry us back to the days of King 
 Arthur, and the Seven Champions, whenever they 
 were that one used to read about when a Child J ? I 
 thought Don Quixote had put an end to all that long 
 ago." 
 
 u Well, lie, at any rate," said Euphranor, " did not 
 depend on fine Accoutrement for his Chivalry." 
 
 " Nay," said I, " but did he not believe in his rusty 
 armour perhaps even the paste-board Visor he fitted 
 to it as impregnable as the Cause " 
 
 " And some old Barber's bason as the Helmet of Mam- 
 brino," interposed Lycion 
 
 "And his poor Rociuante not to be surpass'd by the 
 Bavieca of the Cid ; believed in all this, I say, as really
 
 258 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 as in the Windmills and Wine-skins being the Giants 
 and Sorcerers he was to annihilate ! " 
 
 " To be sure he did/' said Lycion ; " but Euphranor's 
 Round-table men many of them great rascals, I 
 believe knew a real Dragon, or Giant when they 
 met him better than Don Quixote." 
 
 " Perhaps, however," said I, who saw Euphranor's 
 colour rising, "he and Digby would tell us that all such 
 Giants and Dragons may be taken for Symbols of cer- 
 tain Forms of Evil which his Knights went about to 
 encounter and exterminate." 
 
 " Of course," saidEuphrauor, with an indignant snort, 
 " every Child knows that : then as now to be met with 
 and put down in whatsoever shapes they appear as long 
 as Tyranny and Oppression exist." 
 
 "Till finally extinguish t, as they crop up, by Euphra- 
 nor and his Successors," said Lycion. 
 
 " Does not Carlyle somewhere talk to us of a ' Chivalry 
 of Labour ' ? " said I ; " that henceforward not 'Arms 
 and the Man,' but ' Tools and the Man,' are to furnish 
 the Epic of the world." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Lycion, "if the 'Table-Round' turn 
 into a Tailor's Board ' Charge, Chester, charge ! ' say 
 I only not exorbitantly for the Coat you provide for 
 us which indeed, like true Knights, I believe you 
 should provide for us gratis." 
 
 " Yes, my dear fellow," said I, laughing, " but then 
 You must not sit idle, smoking your cigar, in the inidst 
 of it ; but. as your Ancestors led on mail'd troops at
 
 EUPHRANOR. 259 
 
 Agincourt, so must you put yourself, shears in hand, at 
 the head of this Host, and become what Carlyle calls ' a 
 Captain of Industry,' a Master- tailor, leading on a host 
 of Journeymen to fresh fields and conquests new." 
 
 " Besides," said Euphranor, who did not like Carlyle, 
 nor relish this sudden descent of his hobby, " surely 
 Chivalry will never want a good Cause to maintain, 
 whether private or public. As Tennyson says, King 
 Arthur, who was carried away wounded to the island 
 valley of Avilion, returns to us in the shape of a ' modern 
 Gentleman ' ; and, the greater his Power and oppor- 
 tunity, the more demanded of him." 
 
 " Which you must bear in mind, Lycion," said I, " if 
 ever you come to legislate for us in your Father's 
 Borough." 
 
 " Or out of it, also," said Euphranor, " with something 
 other than the Doctor's Shears at your side ; as in case 
 of any National call to Arms." 
 
 To this Lycion, however, only turn'd his cigar in his 
 mouth by way of reply, and look'd somewhat supercil- 
 iously at his Antagonist. And I, who had been looking 
 into the leaves of the Book that Euphranor had left 
 open, said: 
 
 u Here we are, as usual, discussing without having yet 
 agreed on the terms we are using. Euphranor has told 
 us, 011 the word of his Hero, what Chivalry is not : let 
 him read us what it is that we are talking about." 
 
 I then handed him the Book to read to us, while 
 Lycion, lying down on the grass, with his hat over his 
 
 ?tv
 
 260 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 eyes, composed himself to inattention. And Euphranor 
 read : 
 
 " l Chivalry is only a name for that general Spirit or 
 state of mind which disposes men to Generous and 
 Heroic actions ; and keeps them conversant with all that 
 is Beautiful and Sublime in the Intellectual and Moral 
 world. It will be found that, in the absence of conser- 
 vative principles, this Spirit more generally prevails in 
 Youth than in the later periods of men's life : and, as 
 the Heroic is always the earliest age in the history of 
 nations, so Youth, the first period of life, may be con- 
 sidered as the Heroic or Chivalrous age of each separate 
 Man ; and there are few so unhappy as to have grown 
 up without having experienced its influence, and having 
 derived the advantage of being able to enrich their im- 
 agination, and to soothe their hours of sorrow, with its 
 romantic recollections. The Anglo-Saxons distinguished 
 the period between Childhood and Manhood by the term 
 ' Cnihthad,' Knighthood : a term which still continued to 
 indicate the connexion between Youth and Chivalry, 
 when Knights were styled ' Children,' as in the historic 
 song beginning 
 
 " Childe Rowlande to the dark tower canie,"- 
 
 an excellent expression, no doubt ; for every Boy and 
 Youth is, in his mind and sentiment, a Knight, and 
 essentially a Son of Chivalry. Nature is fine in him. 
 Nothing but the circumstances of a singular and most 
 degrading system of Education can ever totally destroy
 
 EUPHRANOR, 261 
 
 the action of this general law* Therefore, so long as 
 there has been, or shall be, a succession of sweet Springs 
 in Man's Intellectual "World ; as long as there have been, 
 or shall be, Young men to grow up to maturity ; and 
 until all Youthful life shall be dead, and its source 
 withered up for ever ; so long must there have been, and 
 must there continue to be, the spirit of noble Chivalry. 
 To understand therefore this first and, as it were, natural 
 Chivalry, we have only to observe the features of the 
 Youthful age, of which examples surround us. For, as 
 Demipho says of young men : 
 
 " Ecce autem similia omnia : omnes eongruunt : 
 Unum cognoris, omnes noris." 
 
 Mark the courage of him who is green and fresh in the 
 Old world. Amyntas beheld and dreaded the insolence 
 of the Persians; bub not so Alexander, the son of 
 Amyntas, ais vso? rs swv xal v.axwv a-aO-TjC (says He- 
 rodotus) o65aj.wc STI xais/stv 610? tz yjv. When Jason had 
 related to his companions the conditions imposed by the 
 King, the first impression was that of horror and 
 despondency ; till Peleus rose up boldly, and said, 
 iipYj fAYjTiaaaOai 3 y' i^ojxsv ob ( u.sv loXira 
 
 ' If Jason be unwilling to attempt it, I and the rest will 
 undertake the enterprise ; for what more can we suffer 
 than death ? ' And then instantly rose up Tel am on and 
 Idas, and the sons of Tyndarus, and CEnides, although 
 
 - o'j os ~o o"ov -avOw(ovtac looXoo?
 
 262 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 But Argus, the Nestor of the party, restrained their im- 
 petuous valour.' " 
 
 " Scarce the Down upon their lips, you see/' (said I,) 
 "Freshmen; so that you. Euphranor, who are now 
 Bachelor of Arts, and whose upper lip at least begins 
 to show the stubble of repeated harvests, are, alas, 
 fast declining from that golden prime of Knighthood, 
 while Lycion here, whose shavings might almost be 
 counted " 
 
 Here Lycion, who had endured the reading with an 
 occasional yawn, said he wish'd " those fellows upstairs 
 would finish their pool." 
 
 " And see again," continued I, taking the book from 
 Euphranor's hands " after telling us that Chivalry is 
 mainly but another name for Youth, Digby proceeds to 
 define more particularly what that is ' It is a remark of 
 Lord Bacon, that '' for the Moral part, Youth will have 
 the pre-eminence, as Age hath for the Politic; " and this 
 has always been the opinion which is allied to that other 
 belief, that the Heroic (the Homeric age) was the most 
 Virtuous age of Greece. When Demosthenes was desir- 
 ous of expressing any great and generous sentiment, he 
 uses the term vsavtxov 'f povr^j.a ' and by the way," added 
 I, looking up parenthetically from the book, " the Per- 
 sians, I am told, employ the same word for Youth and 
 Courage 'and it is the saying of Plautus when surprise 
 is evinced at the Benevolence of an old man. " Benigni- 
 tas Imjus ut Adolescentuli est." There is no difference, 
 says the Philosopher, between Youthful Age and Youth -
 
 EUPHRANOR. 263 
 
 f ul Character ; and what this is cannot be better evinced 
 than in the very words of Aristotle : " The Young are 
 ardent in Desire, and what they do is from Affection ; 
 they are tractable and delicate ; they earnestly desire 
 and are easily appeased ; their wishes are intense, 
 without comprehending much, as the thirst and hunger 
 of the weary ; they are passionate and hasty, and liable 
 to be surprised by anger ; for being ambitious of Hon- 
 our, they cannot endure to be despised, but are indig- 
 nant when they suffer injustice : they love Honour, but 
 still more Victory ; for Youth desires superiority, and 
 victory is superiority, and both of these they love more 
 than Riches ; for as to these, of all things, they care for 
 them the least. They are not of corrupt manners, but 
 are Innocent, from not having beheld much wickedness ; 
 and they are credulous, from having been seldom 
 deceived ; and Sanguine in hope, for, like persons who 
 are drunk with wine, they are inflamed by nature, and 
 from their having had but little experience of Fortune. 
 And they live by Hope, for Hope is of the future, but 
 Memory is of the past, and to Youth the Future is 
 everything, the Past but little ; they hope all things, 
 and remember nothing : and it is easy to deceive them, 
 for the reasons which have been given ; for they are 
 willing to hope, and are full of Courage, being passion- 
 ate and hasty, of which tempers it is the nature of one 
 not to fear, and of the other to inspire confidence ; and 
 thus are easily put to Shame, for they have no resources 
 to set aside the precepts which they have learned : and 
 
 r^,. 1*:
 
 264 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 they have lofty souls, for they have never been dis- 
 graced or brought low ; and they are unacquainted with 
 Necessity; they prefer Honour to Advantage, Virtue to 
 Expediency ; for they live by Affection rather than by 
 Reason, and Reason is concerned with Expediency, but 
 Affection with Honour : and they are warm friends and 
 hearty companions, more than other men, because they 
 delight in Fellowship, and judge of nothing by Utility, 
 and therefore not their friends ; and they chiefly err in 
 doing all things over much, for they keep no medium. 
 They love much, and they dislike much, and so in every- 
 thing, and this arises from their idea that they know 
 everything. And their faults consist more in Insolence 
 than in actual wrong; and they are full of Mercy, 
 because they regard all men as good, and more virtuous 
 than they are ; for they measure others by their own 
 Innocence; so that they suppose every man suffers 
 wrongfully." ' So that Lyciou, you see," said I, looking 
 up from the book, and tapping on the top of his hat, 
 " is, in virtue of his eighteen Summers only, a Knight 
 of Nature's own dubbing yes, and here we have a 
 list of the very qualities which constitute him one 
 of the Order. And all the time he is pretending 
 to be careless, indolent, and worldly, he is really 
 bursting with suppressed Energy, Generosity, and De- 
 votion." 
 
 "I did not try to understand your English any more 
 than your Greek," said Lycion ; " but if I can't help 
 being the very fine Fellow whom I think you were
 
 EUPHRANOR. 265 
 
 reading about, why, I want to know what is the use of 
 writing books about it for my edification." 
 
 " O yes, my dear fellow," said I, "it is like giving you 
 an Inventory of your goods, which else you lose, or even 
 fling away, in your march to Manhood which you are 
 so eager to reach. Only to repent when gotten there ; 
 for I see Digby goes on 'What is termed Entering 
 the World' which Manhood of course must do 'as- 
 suming its Principles and Maxims' which usually 
 follows 4s nothing else but departing into those 
 regions to which the souls of the Homeric Heroes went 
 sorrowing 
 
 *&v TiOTjjiov YOOCUGOC, Xwtoos' avopotrjTa y.al Y^YJV.' " 
 
 " Ah, you remember," said Euphranor, "how Lamb's 
 friend, looking upon the Eton Boys in their Cricket- 
 field, sighed 'to think of so many fine Lads so soon 
 turning into frivolous Members of Parliament ! ' ' 
 
 " But why 'frivolous '? " said Lycion. 
 
 " Ay, why ' frivolous' f " echoed I, "when entering on 
 the Field where, Euphranor tells us, their Knightly 
 service may be call'd into action." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Euphranor, " entering before suf- 
 ficiently equip p'd for that part of their calling." 
 
 " Well," said Lycion, " the Laws of England deter- 
 mine otherwise, and that is enough for me, and, I sup- 
 pose, for her, whatever your ancient or modem pedants 
 say to the contrary." 
 
 "You mean," said I, "in settling Twenty-one as the
 
 266 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Age of ' Discretion,' sufficient to manage, not your own 
 affairs only, but those of the Nation also ? " 
 
 The hat nodded. 
 
 "Not yet, perhaps, accepted for a Parliamentary 
 Knight complete," said I, " so much as Squire to some 
 more experienced, if not more valiant, Leader. Only 
 providing that Neoptolemus do not fall into the hands 
 of a too politic Ulysses, and under him lose that gen- 
 erous Moral, whose Inventory is otherwise apt to get 
 lost among the benches of St. Stephen's in spite of 
 preliminary Prayer." 
 
 "Aristotle's Master, I think,'' added Euphranor, with 
 some mock gravity, " would not allow any to become 
 Judges in his Republic till near to middle life, lest 
 acquaintance with Wrong should harden them into a dis- 
 trust of Humanity : and acquaintance with Diplomacy 
 is said to be little less dangerous." 
 
 " Though, by-the-way," interposed I, " was not Plato's 
 Master accused of perplexing those simple Affections 
 and Impulses of Youth by his Dialectic, and making 
 premature Sophists of the Etonians of Athens ? " 
 
 '' By Aristophanes, you mean,'' said Euphranor, with 
 no mock gravity now; " whose gross caricature help'd 
 Anytus and Co. to that Accusation which ended in the 
 murder of the best and wisest Man of all Antiquity." 
 
 "Well, perhaps," said I, u he had been sufficiently 
 punish'd by that termagant Wife of his whom, by- 
 the-way, he may have taught to argue with him instead 
 of to obey. Just as that Son of poor old Strepsiades, in 

 
 EUPHRANOR. 267 
 
 what you call the Aristophanic Caricature, is taught to 
 rebel against parental authority, instead of doing as he 
 was bidden ; as he would himself have the Horses to do 
 that he was spending so much of his Father's money 
 upon : and as we would have our own Horses, Dogs, 
 and Children, and young Knights." 
 
 " You have got your Heroes into fine company, Eu- 
 phranor," said Lycion, who, while seeming inattentive 
 to all that went against him, was quick enough to catch 
 at any turn in his favour. 
 
 " Why, let me see," said I, taking up the book again, 
 and running my eye over the passage "yes, 'Ardent of 
 desire,' ' ''Tractable,' some of them at least 'Without 
 comprehending much' 'Ambitious' 'Despisers of Riches' 
 'Warm friends and hearty companions'' really very 
 characteristic of the better breed of Dogs and Horses. 
 And why not? The Horse, you know, has given his 
 very name to Chivalry, because of his association in 
 the Heroic Enterprises of Men, El mas Hidalgo Bruto, 
 Calderon calls him. He was sometimes buried, I think, 
 along with our heroic Ancestors just as some favour- 
 ite wife was buried along with her husband in the East. 
 So the Muse sings of those who believe their faithful 
 Dog will accompany them to the World of Spirits as 
 even some wise and good Christian men have thought it 
 not impossible he may, not only because of his Moral, 
 but " 
 
 " Well," said Euphranor, " we need not trouble our- 
 selves about carrying the question quite so far."
 
 268 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 11 Oh, do not drop your poor kinsman just when you 
 are going into good Company/' said Lycion, 
 
 " By-the-way, Lycion/'' said I, " has not your Parlia- 
 ment a ' Whipper-in' of its more dilatory members or 
 of those often of the younger ones, I think, who may be 
 diverting themselves with some stray scent elsewhere?" 
 
 To this he only replied with a long whiff from his 
 Cigar ; but Euphranor said : 
 
 " Well, come, Lycion, let us take the Doctor at 
 his word, and turn it against himself. For if you 
 and I, in virtue of our Youth, are so inspired with all 
 this Moral that he talks of why, we or, rather, 
 you are wanted in Parliament, not only to follow 
 like Dog and Horse, as he pretends, but also to take 
 the lead; so as the Generous counsel, the vsav.xov 
 s.oovYjfia, f Youth, may vivify and ennoble the cold 
 Politic of Age." 
 
 " Well, I remember hearing of a young Senator," 
 said I, " who in my younger days was celebrated for 
 his faculty of Cock-crowing by way of waking up his 
 more drowsy Seniors, I suppose, about the small hours 
 of the morning or, perhaps, in token of Victory over 
 an unexpected Minority." 
 
 " No, no," said Euphranor, laughing, " I mean seri- 
 ously; as in the passage we read from Digby, Amyntas, 
 the Man of Policy, was wrong, and his son Alexander 
 right," 
 
 But oddly enough, as I remembered the story in 
 Herodotus, by a device which smack'd more of Policy 
 
 ^"~*
 
 EUPHRANOR. 269 
 
 than Generosity. " But in the other case, Argus, I sup- 
 pose, was not so wrong in restraining the impetu- 
 osity of his Youthful Crew, who, is it not credibly 
 thought! would have faiPd, but for Medea's unex- 
 pected magical assistance ? " 
 
 Euphranor was not clear about this. 
 
 " Besides/' said I, "does not this very vsav.xov ^ovr^a 
 of yours result from that vsavixov condition I6oc, do 
 you call it ? of Body, in which Youth as assuredly 
 profits as in the Moral, and which assuredly flows, as 
 from a Fountain of ' Jouvence that rises and runs in the 
 open' Field rather than in the Hall of St. Stephen's, 
 where indeed it is rather likely to get clogg'd, if not 
 altogether dried up ? As, for instance, Animal Spirit, 
 Animal Courage, Sanguine Temper, and so forth all 
 which, by the way, says Aristotle, inflame Youth not at 
 all like Reasonable people, but ' like persons drunk with 
 tvine ' all which, for better or worse, is fermented by 
 Cricket from good Roast Beef into pure Blood, Muscle 
 and Moral." 
 
 " Chivalry refined into patent Essence of Beef ! " said 
 Euphranor, only half-amused. 
 
 " I hope you like the taste of it," said Lycion, under 
 his hat. 
 
 u Well, at any rate," said I, laughing, " those young 
 Argonauts needed a good stock of it to work a much 
 heavier craft than we have been pulling to-day, when 
 the wind fail'd them. And yet, with all their animal 
 Inebriation wheucesoever derived so tractable in
 
 270 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 their Moral as to submit at once to their Politic Leader 
 Argus, was it not I " 
 
 " ' The Nestor of the Party/ Digby calls him," said 
 Euphranor, u good, old, garrulous, Nestor, whom, some- 
 how, I think one feels to feel more at home with than 
 any of the Homeric Heroes. 
 
 "Aye, he was entitled to crow in the Grecian Parlia- 
 ment, fine i Old Cock ' as he was, about the gallant 
 exploits of his Youth, being at threescore so active in 
 Body as in Spirit, that Agamemnon declares, I think, 
 that Troy would soon come down had he but a few 
 more such Generals. Ah yes, Euphranor! could one 
 by so full Apprenticeship of Youth become so thor- 
 oughly season'd with its Spirit, that all the Reason of 
 Manhood, and Politic of Age, and Experience of the 
 World, should serve not to freeze, but to direct, the 
 genial Current of the Soul, so that 
 
 ' Ev'n while the vital Heat retreats below, 
 Ev'n while the hoary head is lost in Snow, 
 The Life is in the leaf, and still between 
 The fits of falling Snow appears the streaky Green '- 
 
 that Boy's Heart within the Man's never ceasing to 
 throb and tremble, even to remotest Age then in- 
 deed your Senate would need no other Youth than 
 its Elders to vivify their counsel, or could admit the 
 Young without danger of corrupting them by ignoble 
 Policy. 
 
 u Well, come," said Euphranor gaily, after my rather 
 sententious peroration, " Lycion need not be condemn'd
 
 EUPHRANOR. 271 
 
 to enter Parliament or even ; The World ' unless 
 he pleases, for some twenty years to come, if he will fol- 
 low Pythagoras, who, you know, Doctor, devotes the 
 first forty years of his Man's allotted Eighty to Child- 
 hood and Youth ; a dispensation which you and I at 
 least shall not quarrel with." 
 
 " No, nor anyone else, I should suppose," said I. 
 " Think, my dear Lycion, what a privilege for you to 
 have yet more than twenty good years' expatiation in 
 the Elysian Cricket-field of Youth before pent up in 
 that Close Borough of your Father's ! And Euphranor, 
 whom we thought fast slipping out of his Prime as his 
 Youth attained a beard, is in fact only just entering 
 upon it. And, most wonderful of all, I, who not only 
 have myself enter'd the World, but made my bread by 
 bringing others into it these fifteen years, have myself 
 only just ceased to be a Boy ! " 
 
 What reply Lycion might have deign'd to all this, I 
 know not ; for just now one of his friends looked out 
 again from the Billiard-room window, and called out to 
 him, '' the coast was clear.'' On which Lycion getting 
 up, and muttering something about its being a pity we 
 did not go back to Trap-ball, and I retorting that we 
 could carry it forward into Life with us, he carelessly 
 nodded to us both, and with an "Au Ret'oh-" 1 lounged 
 with his Cigar into the house. 
 
 Then Euphranor and I took each a draught of the 
 good liquor which Lycion had declined to share with 
 us ; and, on setting down his tumbler, he said :
 
 272 EUPHRAXOR. 
 
 " Ah ! you should have heard our friend Skythrops 
 commenting on that Inventory of Youth, as you call it, 
 which he happen'd to open upon in my rooms the other 
 day." 
 
 " Perhaps the book is rather apt to open there of its 
 own accord," said I. '"Well and what did old Sky- 
 throps say ! " 
 
 "Oh, you may anticipate 'the same old Heathen 
 talk/ he said 'very well for a Pagan to write, and a Pa- 
 pist to quote ' and, according to you, Doctor, for Horse 
 and Dog to participate in, and for Bullock to supply." 
 
 "But I had been mainly bantering Lycion," I said; 
 " as Euphranor also, I supposed with his Pythagorean 
 disposition of Life. Lycion would not much have cared 
 had I derived them from the angels. As for that Ani- 
 mal condition to which I had partly referr'd them, we 
 Doctors were of old notorious on that score, not choos- 
 ing your Moralist and Philosopher to carry off all the 
 fee. But 'The Cobbler to his Last' or, the Tailor to 
 his Goose, if I might be call'd in, as only I profess'd, to 
 accommodate the outer Man with what Sterne calls his 
 Jerkin, leaving its Lining to your Philosopher and 
 Divine." 
 
 "Sterne!" ejaculated Euphranor; "just like him 
 Soul and Body all of a piece." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said I, laughing; "your Lining is often 
 of a finer material, you know." 
 
 " And often of a coarser, as in Sterne's own case, I 
 believe."
 
 EUPHBANOR. 
 
 273 
 
 " Well, then, I would turn Mason, or Bricklayer," I 
 said; "and confine myself to the House of Clay, in 
 which, as the Poets tell us, the Soul is Tenant "The 
 Body's Guest ' as Sir Walter Raleigh calls him ; would 
 that do ? " 
 
 " Better, at any rate, than Jerkin and Lining." 
 But here the same difficulty presented itself. For, 
 however essentially distinct, the Tenant from his Lodg- 
 ing, his Health, as we of the material Faculty believed, 
 in some measure depended on the salubrity of the House, 
 in which he is not merely a Guest, but a Prisoner, and 
 from which I knew Euphranor thought he was forbid- 
 den to escape by any violent self-extrication. Dryden 
 indeed tells us of 
 
 "A fiery Soul that, working out its way, 
 Fretted the pigmy Body to decay, 
 And o'er-informed the Tenement of Clay."- 
 
 li But that was the Soul of an Achitophel," Euphranor 
 argued, " whose collapse, whether beginning from within 
 or without, was of less than little moment to the world. 
 But the truly grand Soul possesses himself in peace, or, 
 if he suffer from self -neglect, or over-exertion in striv- 
 ing after the good of others why, that same Dryden 
 or Waller, it may be says that such an one be- 
 comes, not weaker, but stronger, by that Bodily decay, 
 whether of Infirmity, or of Old Age, which lets in new 
 light through the chinks of dilapidation if not, as my 
 loftier Wordsworth has it, some rays of that Original 
 
 18
 
 274 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 Glory which he brought with him to be darken'd in the 
 Body at Birth." 
 
 " But then/' I said, " if your crazy Cottage won't fall 
 to pieces at once, but, after the manner of creaking 
 gates, go creaking or, as the Sailors say of their boats, 
 1 complaining ' on making the Tenant, and most likely 
 all his Neighbours, complain also, and perpetually call- 
 ing on the Tenant for repairs, and this when he wants 
 to be about other more important Business of his own ? 
 To think how much time and patience a Divine 
 Soul has to waste over some little bit of Cheese, per- 
 haps, that, owing to bad drainage, will stick in the 
 stomach of an otherwise Seraphic Doctor." 
 
 Euphranor laughed a little ; and I went on : " Better 
 surely, for all sakes, to build up for her as far as we 
 may for we cannot yet ensure the foundation a 
 spacious, airy, and wholesome Tenement becoming so 
 Divine a Tenant, of so strong a foundation and ma- 
 sonry as to resist the wear and tear of Elements with- 
 out, and herself within. Yes ; and a handsome house 
 withal unless indeed you think the handsome Soul 
 will fashion that about herself from within like a 
 shell which, so far as her Top-storey, where she is 
 supposed chiefly to reside, I think may be the case." 
 
 " Ah," said Euphranor, " one of the most beautiful of 
 all human Souls, as I think, could scarce accomplish that." 
 
 " Socrates ? " said I. " No ; but did not he profess 
 that his Soul was naturally an ugly soul to begin with ? 
 So, by the time he had beautified her within, it was too
 
 EUPHRANOR. 275 
 
 late to re-front her Outside, which had case-hardened, I 
 suppose. But did not he accompany Alcibiades, not 
 only because of his Spiritual, but also of his Physical 
 Beauty, in which, as in the Phidian statues, the Divine 
 Original of Man was supposed to reflect Himself, and 
 which has been accepted as such by Christian Art, and 
 indeed by all Peoples who are furthest removed from 
 that of the Beast f " 
 
 " Even of Dog and Horse ? " said Euphranor, smiling. 
 
 "Even my sturdy old Philosopher Montaigne who, 
 by the way, declares that he rates ' La Beaute a deux 
 doigts de la Bonte . . . non seulement aux homines qui 
 me servent, mais aux betes aussi 7 quotes Aristotle, 
 saying that we owe a sort of Homage to those who 
 resemble the Statues of the Gods as to the Statues 
 themselves. And thus Socrates may have felt about 
 Alcibiades, who, in those earlier and better days when 
 Socrates knew him, might almost be taken as a counter- 
 part of the Picture of Youth, with all its Virtues and 
 defects, which Aristotle has drawn for us." 
 
 " Or, what do you say, Doctor, to Aristotle's own Pupil, 
 Alexander, who turned out a yet more astonishing Phe- 
 nomenon ? I wonder, Doctor, what you, with all your 
 theories, would have done had such an ' Enfant terrible ' 
 as either of them been put into your hands." 
 
 " Well, at any rate, I should have the advantage of 
 first laying hold of him on coming into the World, 
 which was not the case with Aristotle, or with the 
 Doctors of his time, was it ? "
 
 276 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Eupliranor thought not. 
 
 u However, I know not yet whether I have ever had 
 an Infant Hero of any kind to "deal with ; none, cer- 
 tainly, who gave any indication of any such ' clouds of 
 glory ' as your Wordsworth tells of, even when just 
 arrived from their several homes in Alexander's case, 
 of a somewhat sulphureous nature, according to Sky- 
 throps, I doubt. No, nor of any young Wordsworth 
 neither under our diviner auspices." 
 
 " Nay, but," said Euphranor, " he tells us that ' our 
 Birth is but a Sleep and a forgetting' of something 
 which must take some waking-time to develop." 
 
 " But which, if I remember aright, is to begin to darken 
 ' with shades of the Prison-house,' as Wordsworth calls 
 it, that begin to close about ' the growing Boy.' But I 
 am too much of a Philistine, as you Germans have it, to 
 comprehend the Transcendental. All I know is, that I 
 have not yet detected any signs of the l Heaven that lies 
 about our Infancy,' nor for some while after no, not 
 even peeping through those windows through which the 
 Soul is said more immediately to look, but as yet with 
 no more speculation in them than those of the poor 
 whelp of the Dog we talked of in spite of a nine days' 
 start of him." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Euphranor, U I have heard tell 
 of another Poet's saying that he knew of no human out- 
 look so solemn as that from an Infant's Eyes ; and how 
 it was from those of his own he learn'd that those of 
 the Divine Child in Raffaelle's Sistine Madonna were
 
 EUPHRANOR. 277 
 
 not over-charged with expression, as he had previously 
 thought they might be." 
 
 " I think/'' said I, " you must have heard of that from 
 me, who certainly did hear something like it from the 
 Poet himself, who used to let fall not lay down the 
 word that settled the question, aesthetic or other, which 
 others hammer' d after in vain. Yes ; that was on occa- 
 sion, I think, of his having watch'd his Child one morn- 
 ing 'worshipping the Sunbeam on the Bed-post' Isuppose 
 the worship of Wonder, such as I have heard grown-up 
 Children tell of at first sight of the Alps, or Niagara ; 
 or such stay-at-home Islanders as ourselves at first sight 
 of the Sea, from such a height as Flamborough Head." 
 
 " Some farther-seeing Wonder than dog or kitten is 
 conscious of, at any rate," said Euphranor. 
 
 " Ah, who knows ? I have seen both of them watch- 
 ing that very Sunbeam too the Kitten perhaps play- 
 ing with it, to be sure. If but the Philosopher or Poet 
 could live in the Child's or kitten's Brain for a while ! 
 The Bed-post Sun-worship, however, was of a Child of 
 several months and Raffaelle's a full year old, would 
 you say ? " 
 
 " Nay, you know about such matters better than I," 
 said Euphranor, laughing. 
 
 " Well, however it may be with young Wordsworth, 
 Raffaelle's child certainly was 'drawing Clouds of Glory' 
 from His Home, and we may suppose him conscious of 
 it yes, and of his Mission to dispense that glory to 
 the World. And I remember how the same Poet also 
 
 /
 
 278 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 noticed the Attitude of the Child, which might other- 
 wise seem somewhat too magisterial for his age." 
 
 Euphranor knew the Picture by Engraving only; but 
 he observed how the Divine Mother's eyes also were 
 dilated, not as with Human Mother's Love, but as with 
 awe and Wonder at the Infant she was presenting 
 to the World, as if silently saying, " Behold your 
 King!" 
 
 " Why," said I, " do not some of you believe the 
 'Clouds of Glory' to have been drawn directly from 
 herself I " 
 
 "Nonsense, nonsense, Doctor you know better, as 
 did Raffaelle also, I believe, in spite of the Pope." 
 
 "Well, well," said I, "your Wordsworth Boy has also 
 his Divine Mission to fulfil in confessing that of Raf- 
 faelle's. But, however it may be with that Mother and 
 Child, does not one of your Germans, I think say 
 that, with us mortals, it is from the Mother's eyes that 
 Religion dawns into the Child's Soul! the Religion 
 of Love, at first, I suppose, in gratitude for the flowing 
 breast and feeding hand below." 
 
 " Perhaps in some degree," said Euphranor. "As 
 you were saying of that Sun-worshipper, one cannot 
 fathom how far the Child may see into the Mother's 
 eyes any more than all that is to be read in them." 
 
 " To be developed between them thereafter, I suppose," 
 said I, " when the Mother's lips interpret the Revelation 
 of her Eyes, and lead up from her Love to the percep- 
 tion of some Invisible Parent of all."
 
 SB: 
 
 EUPHRANOR. 279 
 
 "Ah," said Euphranor, " how well I remember learn- 
 ing to repeat after her, every morning and night, ' Our 
 Father which art in Heaven.' " 
 
 " In your little white Surplice, like Sir Joshua's little 
 Samuel on whom the Light is dawning direct from 
 Heaven, I think from Him to whom you were half- 
 articulately praying to 'make me a dood Boy ' to them. 
 And, by-and-by, Watts and Jane Taylor's, of the Star 
 Daisy in the grass, and the Stars in Heaven, 
 
 ' For ever singing as they shine, 
 The Hand that made us is Divine.' " 
 
 " Ah," said Euphranor, " and beautiful some of those 
 early things of Watts and Jane Taylor are. They run 
 in my head still." 
 
 " As why should they not ? " said I, " you being yet in 
 your Childhood, you know. Why, I, who have left it 
 some way behind me, but, to be sure, constantly re- 
 minded of them in the nurseries I am so often call'd into 
 from which they are not yet banisht by more aesthetic 
 verse. As also, I must say, of some yet more early, and 
 profane, such as ' Rock-a-bye Baby on the Tree-top,' 
 with that catastrophe which never fail'd to ' bring the 
 House down' along with the Bough which is, Mother's 
 Arms. Then there was ' Little Bopeep whose stray 
 flock came back to her of themselves, carrying their 
 tails behind them' and 'Little Boy Blue' who was 
 less fortunate. Ah, what a pretty little picture he 
 makes ' under the havcock ' like one of vour Greek
 
 280 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Idylls, I think, and quite ' suitable to this present Month 
 of May/ as old Izaak says. Let me hear if you remem- 
 ber it, Sir." 
 
 And Euphraiior, like a good boy, repeated the verses.* 
 " And then," said I, " the echoes of those old London 
 Bells whose Ancestors once recalFd Whittington back 
 to be their Lord Mayor : and now communicating from 
 their several Steeples as to how the account with St. 
 Clement's was to be paid which, by-the-by, I remem- 
 ber being thus summarily settled by an old College 
 Friend of mine 
 
 ' Confound you all ! 
 Said the Great Bell of Paul'; 
 
 only, I am afraid, with something more Athanasian 
 than ' Confound ' though he was not then a Dignitary 
 of the Church. Then that Tragedy of ' Cock Robin ' 
 the Fly that saw it with that little Eye of his and the 
 Owl with his spade and ' Skowl' proper old word that 
 too and the Bull who the Bell could pull and but 
 I doubt whether you will approve of the Rook reading 
 the Burial Service, nor do I like bringing the Lark, 
 only for a rhyme's sake, down from Heaven, to make 
 the responses. And all this illustrated by appropriate 
 
 * " Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn ; 
 
 The Cow's in the meadow, the Sheep in the corn. 
 Is this the way you mind your Sheep, 
 Under the haycock fast asleep?" 
 
 "The 'meadoicj" said I, by way of annotation, "being, 
 you know, of grass reserved for meadowing, or mowing." 
 
 71
 
 EUPHRANOR, 281 
 
 ' Gays/ as they call them in Suffolk and recited, if 
 not entoned, according to the different Characters." 
 
 " Plato's ' Music of Education,' I suppose," said 
 Euphranor. 
 
 " Yes," said I, warming with my subject; "and then, 
 beside the True Histories of Dog and Horse whose 
 example is to be followed, Fables that treat of others, 
 Lions, Eagles, Asses, Foxes, Cocks, and other feather'd 
 or four-footed Creatures, who, as in Cock Robin's case, 
 talk as well as act, but with a Moral more or less 
 commendable provided the Moral be dropt. Then as 
 your punning friend Plato, you told me, says that 
 Thaumas Wonder is Father of Iris, who directly 
 communicates between Heaven and Earth as in the 
 case of that Bedpost-kissing Apollo you, being a 
 pious man, doubtless had your Giants, Genii, Enchant- 
 ers, Fairies, Ogres, Witches, Ghosts " 
 
 But Euphranor was decidedly against admitting any 
 Ghost into the Nursery, and even Witches, remember- 
 ing little Lamb's childish terror at Her of Eudor. 
 
 " Oh, but," said I, "She was a real Witch, you know, 
 though represented by Stackhouse ; who need not figure 
 among the Musicians, to be sure. You, however, as 
 Lycion says, have your Giants and Dragons to play 
 with by way of Symbol, if you please and you 
 must not grudge your younger Brethren in Arms that 
 redoubtable JACK who slew the Giants whom you are to 
 slay over again, and who, for that very purpose, climb'd 
 up a Bean-stalk some way at least to Heaven an
 
 282 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 Allegory that, as Sir Thomas Browne says, ' admits 
 of a wide solution.' " 
 
 " Ah," said my companion, " I remember how you 
 used to climb up the Poplar in our garden by way of 
 Beau-stalk, looking out upon us now and then, till lost 
 among the branches. You could not do that now, 
 Doctor." 
 
 " No more than I could up Jack's own Bean-stalk. I 
 was a thin slip of a Knight then, not long turned of 
 Twenty, I suppose almost more like a Giant than a 
 Jack to the rest of you but children do not mind such 
 disproportions. No I could better play one of the 
 three Bears growling for his mess of porridge now. 
 But, in default of my transcendental illustration of 
 Jack, he and his like are well represented in such 
 Effigies as your friend Plato never dream'd of in his 
 philosophy, though Phidias and Praxiteles may have 
 sketcht for their Children what now is multiplied by 
 Engraving into every Nursery." 
 
 " Not to mention Printing, to read about what is 
 represented," said Euphranor. 
 
 " I do not know what to say about that" said I. 
 '' Does not your Philosopher repudiate any but Oral 
 instruction ? " 
 
 " Notwithstanding all which, I am afraid we must learn 
 to read, 1 ' said Euphranor, " in these degenerate days." 
 
 " Well, if needs must," said I, " you may learn in the 
 most musical way of all. Do you not remember the 
 practice of our Forefathers ?
 
 EUPHRANOR, 283 
 
 ' To Master John, the Chamber-maid 
 A Horn -book gives of Ginger-bread ; 
 And, that the Child may learn the better, 
 As he can name, he eats the Letter.' " 
 
 " Oh, how I used to wish," said Euphranor, " there 
 had been any such royal road to Grammar which one 
 had to stumble over some years after." 
 
 " Well," said I, " but there is now, I believe, a Comic 
 Grammar as well as a Comic History of Rome and 
 of England." 
 
 " Say no more of all that, pray, Doctor. The old 
 1 Propria quae maribus ? was better Music, uncouth as it 
 was, and almost as puzzling as an Oracle. I am sure it 
 is only now when I try that I understand the 
 meaning of the rule I then repeated mechanically like 
 a Parrot, you would say." 
 
 " Sufficiently intelligible, however," said I, " to be 
 mechanically applied in distinguishing the different 
 parts of Speech, and how related to one another ; how 
 a verb governs an accusative, and an adjective agrees 
 with a noun ; to all which you are guided by certain 
 terminations of us, a, urn, and do, das, dat, and so on ; 
 till you are able to put the scattered words together, 
 aud so ford through a sentence. And the old uncouth 
 Music, as you call it, nevertheless served to fix those 
 rules in the memory." 
 
 "But all that is changed now!" said Euphranor ; 
 "Nominative and Accusative are turned into Subjec- 
 tive, Objective, and what not."
 
 284 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 ''Darkening the unintelligible to Boys/' said I, "what- 
 ever it may afterwards to men. ' Floreat Etona ! ' say I, 
 with her old Lily, and ' Propria quae maribus,' always 
 providing there be not too much of it even could 
 it be construed, like the Alphabet, into Ginger-bread." 
 
 "Well," said Euphranor, "I think you took pretty 
 good care that we should not suffer an indigestion of the 
 latter, when you were among us at home, Doctor. What 
 with mounting that Bean-stalk yourself, and clearing 
 us out of the Schoolroom into the Garden, wet or dry, re- 
 gardless of Aunt's screaming from the window for us to 
 come in, when a Cloud was coming up in the Sky " 
 
 " Or a little dew lying on the Grass." 
 
 " Why, I believe you would have a Child's shoes made 
 with holes in them on purpose to let in water, as Locke 
 recommends," said Euphranor, laughing. 
 
 " I wouldn't keep him within for having none, whole 
 shoes, or whole clothes no, nor any only the Police 
 would interfere." 
 
 " But the Child catches cold." 
 
 " Put him to bed and dose him." 
 
 " But he dies." 
 
 " Then, as a sensible woman said, ' is provided for.' 
 Your own Plato, I think, says it is better the weakly 
 ones should die at once ; and the Spartans, I think, 
 kill'd them off." 
 
 " Come, come. Doctor," said Euphranor. " I really 
 think you gave us colds on purpose to be called in to 
 cure them."
 
 EUPHRANOR, 285 
 
 " No, no ; that was before I was a Doctor, you know. 
 But I doubt that I was the Lord of Mis-rule sometimes, 
 though, by the way, I am certain that I sometimes 
 recommended a remedy, not when you were sick, but 
 when you were sorry without a cause I mean, 
 obstinate, or self-willed against the little Discipline you 
 had to submit to." 
 
 Euphranor looked comically at me. 
 
 " Yes, 7 ' said I, "you know a slap on that part where 
 the Rod is to be applied in after years and which I 
 had, not long before, suffered myself." 
 
 " Tliat is almost out of date now, along with other Spar- 
 tan severities even in Criminal cases," said Euphranor. 
 
 " Yes, and the more the pity in both cases. How 
 much better in the Child's than being shut up, or addi- 
 tionally tasked revenging a temporary wrong with a 
 lasting injury. And, as for your public Criminal my 
 wonder is that even modern squeamishness does not see 
 that a public application of the Rod or Lash on the 
 bare back in the Marketplace would be more likely to 
 daunt the Culprit, and all Beholders, from future Misde- 
 meanour than months of imprisonment, well boarded, 
 lodged, and cared for, at the Country's cost." 
 
 " Nevertheless,'' said Euphranor, " I do not remember 
 your Advice being taken in our case, much as I, for one, 
 may have deserved it." 
 
 " No," said I ; " your Father was gone, you know, 
 and your Mother too tender-hearted indulgent, I 
 might say." 
 
 ^--
 
 286 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 "Which, with all your Spartan discipline, I know 
 you think the better extreme," said Euphranor. 
 
 "Oh, far the better!" said I "letting the Truth 
 come to the surface the ugliest Truth better than the 
 fairest Falsehood which Fear naturally brings with it, 
 and all the better for determining outwardly, as we 
 Doctors say, than repressed to rankle within. Why, 
 even without fear of spank or Rod, you remember how 
 your Wordsworth's little Harry was taught the practice 
 of Lying, who, simply being teased with well-meaning 
 questions as to why he liked one place better than 
 another, caught at a Weather-cock for a reason why. 
 Your mother was wiser than that. I dare say she did 
 not bother you about the meaning of the Catechism she 
 taught you, provided you generally understood that 
 you were to keep your hands from picking and stealing, 
 and your tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slan- 
 dering. She did not insist, as Skythrops would have 
 had you, on your owning yourselves Children of the 
 Devil." 
 
 " No, no ! " 
 
 " I should not even wonder if, staunch Church woman 
 as she was, she did not condemn you to go more than 
 once of a Sunday to Church perhaps not to be shut 
 up for two hours' morning Service in a Pew, without 
 being allowed to go to sleep there ; nor tease you about 
 Text and Sermon afterward. For, if she had, you 
 would not, I believe, have been the determined Church- 
 man von are."
 
 EUPHRANOR. 287 
 
 "Ah, I remember so well/' said Euphranor, "her 
 telling a stricter neighbour of ours that, for all 
 she saw, the Child generally grew up with clean op- 
 posite inclinations and ways of thinking, from the 
 Parent," 
 
 " Yes," said I, " that is the way from Parent to Child, 
 and from Generation to Generation ; and so the "World 
 goes round. 1 ' 
 
 " And we Brothers and Sister, I mean " said 
 Euphranor, "now catch ourselves constantly saying 
 how right she was in the few things we ever thought 
 her mistaken about her. God bless her ! " 
 
 He took a long pull at his glass, and was silent some 
 little while she had died a few years ago and then 
 he said : 
 
 " However, even she began in time to find ' the Boys 
 too much for her/ as she said for which you, Doctor, 
 as you say, are partly accountable ; besides, we should 
 have our livelihood to earn, unlike your born Heroes ; 
 and must begin to work sooner rather than later. 
 Our Friend Skythrop's ipse had already warned her of 
 our innate, and steadily growing, Depravity, and, when 
 I was seven or eight years old, came to propose taking 
 me under his wing, at what he called his ' Seminary 
 for young Gentlemen.' " 
 
 " I see him," said I, "coming up the shrubbery walk 
 in a white tie, and with a face of determined asperity 
 the edge of the Axe now turned toward, the Criminal. 
 Aye, I was gone away to Edinburgh by that time ;
 
 288 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 indeed I think he waited till I was well out of the way. 
 Well, what did he say ! " 
 
 "Oh, he explained his scheme, whatever it was " 
 
 " And oh, I can tell yau some eight or ten hours 
 a day of Grammar and Arithmetic, Globes, History, 
 and as Dickens says, ' General Christianity ' ; and, by 
 way of Recreation, two hours' daily walk with himself 
 and his sallow Pupils, two and two along the Highroad, 
 improved with a running commentary by Skythrops 
 with perhaps a little gymnastic gallows in his gravel 
 Play-ground, without room or time for any generous 
 exercise. Your Mother, I hope, gave him a biscuit and 
 a glass of Sherry, and, with all due thanks, let him go 
 back the way he came." 
 
 '' His Plan does not please you, Doctor ? " 
 " And if it did and it only wanted reversing Jie 
 would not. No Boy with any Blood in his veins can 
 profit from a Teacher trying to graft from dead wood 
 upon the living sapling. Even the poor Women's 
 'Preparatory Establishments' for 'Young Gentlemen' 
 are better; however narrow their notions and' rou- 
 tine, they do not at heart dislike a little of the Devil 
 in the other sex, however intolerant of him in their 
 own." 
 
 " Well, we were committed to neither," said Euphra- 
 nor, "but to a nice young Fellow who came to be Curate 
 in the Parish, and who taught us at home, little but 
 well among other things a little Cricket." 
 ' Bravo ! " said I,
 
 W 
 
 EUPHRANOR. 289 
 
 u Then Uncle James, you know, hearing that I was 
 rather of a studious turn i serious/ he called it took 
 it into his head that one of his Brother's family should 
 be a Parson, and so undertook to pay my way at West- 
 minster, which he thought an aristocratic School, and 
 handy for him in the City. In which, perhaps, you do 
 not disagree with him, Doctor f " 
 
 " No," said I ; ' though not bred up at any of them 
 myself, I must confess I love the great ancient, Royal, 
 aye, and aristocratic Foundations Eton with her 
 'Henry's holy Shade' why, Gray's verses were 
 enough to endear it to me and under the walls of his 
 Royal Castle, all reflected in the water of old Father 
 Thames, as he glides down the valley ; and Winchester 
 with her William of Wykeham entomb'd in the Cathe- 
 dral he built beside his School - " 
 
 " And Westminster, if you please, Doctor, under the 
 Shadow of its glorious old Abbey, where Kings are 
 crown'd and buried, and with Eton's own River flowing 
 beside it in ampler proportions." 
 
 " Though not so sweet," said I. u However, except- 
 ing that fouler water and fouler air and some 
 other less wholesome associations inseparable from 
 such a City, I am quite ready to pray for your West- 
 minster among those other ' Royal and Religious 
 Foundations ' whicli the Preacher invites us to pray for 
 at St. Mary's. But with Eton we began, you know, 
 looking like Charles Lamb and his Friend at the fine 
 Lads there playing; and there I will leave them to
 
 290 EUPHRANOB. 
 
 enjoy it while they may, ' strangers yet to Pain ' and 
 Parliament to sublime their Beefsteak into Chivalry 
 in that famous Cricket-field of theirs by the side of old 
 Father Thames murmuring of so many Generations of 
 chivalric Ancestors." 
 
 " We must call down Lycion to return thanks for 
 that compliment," said Euphranor ; " he is an Eton 
 man, as were his Fathers before him, you know, and, I 
 think, proud, as your Etonians are, of his School, in 
 spite of his affected Indifference." 
 
 " Do you know what sort of a Lad he was while 
 there ? " said I. 
 
 " Oh, always the Gentleman." 
 
 " Perhaps somewhat too much so for a Boy." 
 
 "No, no, I do not mean that I mean essentially 
 honourable, truthful, and not deficient in courage, I 
 believe, whenever it was called for ; but indolent, and 
 perhaps fonder too of the last new Novel, and the 
 Cigar and Easy-chair, to exert himself in the way you 
 like." 
 
 " Preparing for the Club, Opera, Opera-glass, 'Dejeu- 
 ner dansantj etcetera, if not for active service in Parlia- 
 ment. Eton should provide for those indolent Children 
 of hers." 
 
 "Well, she has provided her field, and old Father 
 Thames, as you say, and Boys are supposed to take 
 pretty good care of themselves in making use of them." 
 
 "Not always, however, as we see in Lycion's case, 
 nor of others, who, if they do not ' sacrifice the Living
 
 EUPHBANOR. 291 
 
 Man to the Dead Languages/ dissipate him among the 
 Fine Arts, Music, Poetry, Painting, and the like, in the 
 interval. Why, did not those very Greeks of whom 
 you make so much and, as I believe, your modern 
 Germans make Gymnastic a necessary part of their 
 education ? " 
 
 " But you would not have Eton Boys compelled to 
 climb and tumble like monkeys over gymnastic poles and 
 gallows as we saw with Skythrops" Young Gentlemen'!" 
 
 " Perhaps not; but what do you say now to some 
 good Military Drill, with March, Counter-march, En- 
 counter, Bivouac ' Wacht am Rhein' Encampment 
 that is, by Father Thames and such-like Exercises 
 for which Eton has ample room, and which no less a 
 Man although a Poet than John Milton enjoin'd as 
 the proper preparation for War, and, I say, carrying 
 along with them a sense of Order, Self-restraint, and 
 Mutual Dependence, no less necessary in all the rela- 
 tions of Peace f " 
 
 '' We might all of us have been the better for that, 
 I suppose," said Euphranor. 
 
 " And only think," said I, " if as in some German 
 School Fellenberg's, I think there were, beside the 
 Playground, a piece of Arable to work in perhaps at 
 a daily wage of provender according to the work done 
 what illumination might some young Lycioii receive, 
 as to the condition of the Poor, ' unquenchable by logic 
 and statistics,' says Carlyle, ' when he comes, as Duke 
 of Logwood, to legislate in Parliament.' "
 
 292 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 " Better Log than Brute, however," answer'd Euphra- 
 nor. "You must beware, Doctor, lest with all your 
 Ploughing and other Beef-compelling Accomplishments 
 you do not sink the Man in the Animal, as was much 
 the case with our ' Hereditary Eulers ' of some hundred 
 years ago.'' 
 
 " ' MvjSsv oqav,' " said I; "let us but lay in when 
 only laid in it can be such a store of that same well- 
 concocted stuff as shall last us all Life's journey 
 through, with all its ups and downs. Nothing, say the 
 Hunters, that Blood and Bone won't get over." 
 
 " Be there a good Eider to guide him ! " said Euphra- 
 nor ; " and that, in Man's case, I take it is if not yet 
 the Reason we talked of a Moral such as no Beast 
 that breathes is conscious of. You talk of this Animal 
 virtue, and that why, for instance, is there not a 
 moral, as distinguisht from an animal Courage, to face, 
 not only the sudden danger of the field, but something 
 far-off coming, far foreseen, and far more terrible 
 Crammer's, for instance " 
 
 " Which," said I, " had all but failed all the more 
 honour for triumphing at last ! But Hugh Latimer, 
 who I think, had wrought along with his Father's hinds 
 in Leicestershire. Anyhow, there is no harm in having 
 two strings to your Bow, whichever of them be the 
 strongest. The immortal Soul obliged, as she is, to take 
 the Field of Mortality, would not be the worse for being 
 mounted on a good Animal, though I must not say 
 with the Hunters, till the Rider seems 'part of his
 
 iv 
 
 EUPHRANOB. 293 
 
 horse.' As to your Reason he is apt to crane a little 
 too much over the hedge, as they say, till by too long 
 considering the 'Hoiv,- he comes to question the 'Why' 
 andj the longer looking, the less liking, shirks it 
 altogether j or by his Indecision brings Horse and Rider 
 into the Ditch* Hamlet lets us into the secret luckily 
 for us enacting the very moral he descants on when 
 he reflects on his own imbecility of action t 
 
 ' Whether it be 
 
 Bestial oblivion, or some coward scruple 
 Of thinking too precisely of the Event, 
 A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part Wisdom, 
 And ever three parts Coward I do not know 
 Why yet I live to say, " This thing's to do" 
 Sith I have Cause, and Will, and Strength, and Means, 
 To do't.' 
 
 Not in his case surely 'oblivion,' with such reminders, 
 supernatural and other, as he had : nor as in our case, 
 with th.e Ditch before our Eyes : nor want of Courage 
 which was his Royal inheritance ; but the Will, which 
 he reckon'd on as surely as on Strength and Means 
 was he so sure of that ? He had previously told us how 
 ' The native hue of Resolution ' how like that glow 
 upon the cheek of healthy Youth ! 
 
 ' The native hue of Resolution, 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of Thought. 
 And Enterprises of great pith and moment 
 With this regard, their currents turn aside, 
 And lose the name of Action.'
 
 294 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 He had, he tells his College Friends, forgone his ' Cus- 
 tom of Exercises ' among others, perhaps, his Cricket, at 
 Wittenberg too soon, and taken to reasoning about 'To 
 - be, or not to be ' otherwise he would surely have 
 bowl'd his wicked uncle down at once." 
 
 " Though not without calling ' Play ! ' I hope," said 
 Euphranor, laughing. 
 
 " At any rate, not while his Adversary's back was 
 turned, and so far prepared inasmuch as he was 
 engaged in repentant Prayer. And that is the reason 
 Hamlet gives for not then despatching him, lest, being 
 so employed, he should escape the future punishment of 
 his crime. An odd motive for the youthful Moral to 
 have reasoned itself into." 
 
 " His Father had been cut off unprepared, and per- 
 haps, according to the Moral of those days, could only 
 be avenged by such a plenary Expiation." 
 
 "Perhaps; or, perhaps and Shakespeare himself may 
 not have known exactly why Hamlet only made it an 
 excuse for delaying what he had to do, as delay he 
 does, till vengeance seems beyond his reach when he 
 suffers himself to be sent out of the country. For you 
 know the Habit of Resolving without Doing, as in the 
 Closet, gradually snaps the connexion between them, 
 and the case becomes chronically hopeless." 
 
 Euphranor said that I had stolen that fine Moral of 
 mine from a Volume of 'Newman's Sermons" which 
 he had lent me, as I agreed with him was probably the 
 case ; and then he said :
 
 EUPHRANOR. 295 
 
 " Well, Bowling down a King is, I suppose, a ticklish 
 Business, and the Bowler may miss his aim by being 
 too long about taking it: but, in Cricket proper, I have 
 most wonder'd at the Batter who has to decide whether 
 to block, strike, or tip, in that twinkling of an eye 
 be'tween the ball's delivery, and its arrival at his 
 wicket." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " and the Boxer who puts in a blow 
 with one hand at the same moment of warding one off 
 with the other." 
 
 " ' Gladiatorem in arena/ " said Euphranor. 
 
 " Yes ; what is called 'Presence of mind,' where there 
 is no time to 'make it up.' And all the more necessary 
 and remarkable in proportion to the Danger involved. 
 As when the Hunter's horse falling with him in full 
 cry, he braces himself, between saddle and ground, to 
 pitch clear of his horse as Fielding tells us that brave 
 old Parson Adams did, when probably thinking less 
 of his horse than of those Sermons he carried in his 
 saddle-bags." 
 
 "Ah!" said Euphranor, "Parson Adams was so far 
 a lucky man to have a Horse at all, which w r e poor fel- 
 lows now can hardly afford. I remember how I used 
 to envy those who for the fun, if for nothing else 
 followed brave old Sedgwick across country, thorough 
 brier, thorough mire. Ah ! that was a-Lecture after your 
 own heart, Doctor; something more than peripatetic, 
 and from one with plenty of the Boy in him when over 
 Seventy, I believe."
 
 296 EUPHBANOR. 
 
 " Well, there again/' said I, " your great Schools 
 might condescend to take another hint from abroad 
 where some one Fellenberg again, I think had a 
 Riding-house in his much poorer School, where you 
 might learn not only to sit your horse if ever able to 
 provide one for yourself, but also to saddle, bridle, rub 
 him down, with the 's j ss-s'ss' which I fancy was heard 
 on the morning of Agin court if, by the way, one 
 horse was left in all the host." 
 
 " Well, come," said Euphranor, "the Gladiator, at any 
 rate, is gone and the Boxer after him and the 
 Hunter, I think, going after both, perhaps the very 
 Horse he rides gradually to be put away by Steam into 
 some Museum among the extinct Species that Man has 
 no longer room or business for." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said I, " War is not gone with the 
 Gladiator, and cannon and rifle yet leave room for hand- 
 to-hand conflict, as may one day which God forbid ! 
 come to proof in our own sea-girt Island. If safe from 
 abroad, some Ruffian may still assault you in some 
 shady lane nay, in your own parlour at home, when 
 you have nothing but your own strong arm and ready 
 soul to direct it. Accidents will happen in the best- 
 regulated families. The House will take fire, the Coach 
 will break down, the Boat will upset; is there no 
 gentleman who can swim, to save himself and others ; 
 no one do more to save the Maid snoring in the garret, 
 than helplessly looking on or turning away? Some 
 one is taken ill at midnight ; John is drunk in bed ; Is
 
 EUPHBANOR. 297 
 
 there no Gentleman can saddle Dobbin in uch less 
 get a Collar over his Head, or the Crupper over his 
 tail, without such awkwardness as brings on his 
 abdomen the kick he fears, and spoils him for the jour- 
 ney ? And I do maintain," I continued, having now 
 gotten ' the bit between my teeth ' " maintain against 
 all Comers that, independent of any bodily action on 
 their part, these, and the like Accomplishments, as you 
 call them, do carry with them, and, I will say, with the 
 Soul incorporate, that habitual Instinct of Courage, 
 Resolution, and Decision, which, together with the Good 
 Humour which good animal Condition goes so far to 
 ensure, do, I say, prepare and arm the Man not only 
 against the greater, but against those minor Trials of 
 Life which are so far harder to encounter because of 
 perpetually cropping up ; and thus do cause him to 
 radiate, if through a narrow circle, yet, through that, 
 imperceptibly to the whole world, . a happier atmos- 
 phere about him than could be inspired by Closet-loads 
 of Poetry, Metaphysic, and Divinity. Xo doubt there 
 is danger, as you say, of the Animal overpowering the 
 Rational, as, I maintain, equally so of the reverse ; no 
 doubt the high-mettled Colt will be likeliest to run riot, 
 as may my Lad, inflamed with Aristotle's ' Wine of 
 Youth,' into excesses which even the virtuous Berkeley 
 says are the more curable as lying in the Passions ; 
 whereas, says he, ' the dry Rogue who sets up for Judg- 
 ment is incorrigible.' But, whatever be the result, VIG- 
 OUR, of Body, as of Spirit, one must have, subject like
 
 298 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 all good things to the worst conception Strength 
 itself j even of Evil, being a kind of Virtus which Time, 
 if not good Counsel) is pretty sure to moderate ; whereas 
 Weakness is the one radical and Incurable Evil, increas- 
 ing with every year of Life. Which fine Moral, or to 
 that effect, you will also find somewhere in those Ser- 
 mons, whose Authority I know you cannot doubt." 
 
 " And thus," said Euphranor, " after this long tirade, 
 you turn out the young Knight from Cricket on the 
 World." 
 
 " Nay," said I, " did I not tell you from the first I 
 would not meddle with your Digby any more than your 
 Wordsworth. I have only been talking of ordinary 
 mankind so as to provide for Locke's ' totus teres^ and 
 except in the matter of waistband l rotundus' man, 
 sufficiently accoutred for the campaign of ordinary Life. 
 And yet, on second thought, I do not see why he should 
 not do very fairly well for one of the ' Table-round/ if 
 King Arthur himself is to be looked for, and found, as 
 the Poet says, in the ' Modern Gentleman,' whose ' state- 
 liest port' will not be due to the Reading-desk, or Easy- 
 chair. At any rate, he will be sufficiently qualified, not 
 only to shoot the Pheasant and hunt the Fox, but even 
 to sit on the Bench of Magistrates or even of Parlia- 
 ment not unprovided with a quotation or two from 
 Horace or Virgil." 
 
 Euphranor could not deny that, laughing. 
 
 " Or if obliged, poor fellow Younger son, per- 
 haps to do something to earn him Bread or
 
 EUPHRANOR. 299 
 
 Claret for his Old Age, if not prematurely knocked 
 on the head whether not well-qualified for Soldier or 
 Sailor ? ' 1 
 
 " Nor that." 
 
 " As for the Church, (which is your other Gentle- 
 manly Profession,) you know your Bishop can con- 
 secrate Tom or Blifil equally by that Imposition " 
 
 " Doctor, Doctor," broke in Euphranor, "you have 
 been talking very well ; don't spoil it by one of your 
 grimaces." 
 
 " Well, well," said I, " Oh, but there is still THE 
 LAW, in which I would rather trust myself with Tom 
 than Blifil," added I. "Well, what else! Surgery? 
 which is said to need ' the Lion's Heart.' " 
 
 " But also the Lady's Hand," replied he, smiling. 
 
 " Not in drawing one of the Molars, I assure you. 
 However, thus far I do not seem to have indisposed him 
 for the Professions which his Bank usually opens to 
 him ; or perhaps even, if he had what you call a Genius 
 in any direction, might, amid all his Beef -compelling 
 Exercises, light upon something, as Pan a-hunting, and, 
 as it were ' unaware,' says Bacon, disco ver'd that Ceres 
 whom the more seriously-searching Gods had looked for 
 in vain." 
 
 " Not for the sake of Rent, I hope," said Euphranor, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Or even a turn for looking into Digby and Aristotle, 
 as into a Mirror could he but distinguish his own 
 face in it."
 
 300 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 Euphranor, upon whose face no sign of any such self- 
 consciousness appeared, sat for a little while silent, and 
 then said : 
 
 " Do you remember that fine passage in Aristophanes' 
 Clouds lying libel as it is between the Aixato? and 
 y A8ixo? Ao-foc?" 
 
 I had forgotten, I said, my little Latin and less 
 Greek ; and he declared I must however read this scene 
 over again with him. " It is, you see, Old Athens 
 pleading against Young ; whom after denouncing, for 
 relinquishing the hardy Discipline and simply severe 
 Exercises that reared the MafvaOwvojta^oo? avopac, for 
 the Warm Bath, the Dance, and the Law Court; he 
 suddenly turns to the Young Man who stands hesitat- 
 ing between them, and in those Verses, musical 
 
 'AX// cov Xt-apoc 73 v.ai =oavOvj? " 
 
 * 
 
 " Come, my good fellow," said I, " you must inter- 
 pret." And Euphranor, looking down, in undertone 
 repeated : 
 
 "0 listen to me, and so shall you be stout-hearted and 
 
 fresh as a Daisy ; 
 Not ready to chatter on every matter, nor bent over 
 
 books till you're hazy : 
 No splitter of straws, no dab at the Laws, making black 
 
 seem white so cunning 1 : 
 But scamp'ring down out o' the town, and over the green 
 
 Meadow running. 
 Race, wrestle, and play with your fellows so gay, like so 
 
 many Birds of a feather,
 
 EUPHRANOR. 301 
 
 All breathing of Youth, Good-humour, and Truth, in the 
 time of the jolly Spring weather, 
 
 In the jolly Spring-time, when the Poplar and Lime di- 
 shevel their tresses together." 
 
 "Well, but go on," said I, when he stopp'd, "I 
 am sure there is something more of it, now you 
 recall the passage to me about broad shoulders 
 and " 
 
 But this was all he had cared to remember. 
 
 I then asked him who was the translator ; to which 
 he replied with a shy smile, 'twas more a paraphrase 
 than a translation, and I might criticise it as I liked. 
 To which I had not much to object, I said perhaps 
 the trees "dishevelling their tresses " a little Cockney ; 
 which he agreed it was. And then, turning off, 
 observed how the degradation which Aristophanes 
 satirised in the Athenian youth went on and on, so 
 that, when Rome came to help Greece against Philip of 
 Macedon, the Athenians, says Livy, could contribute 
 little to the common cause but declamation and 
 despatches i quibus solum valent.' 
 
 " Aye," said I, " and to think that when Livy was so 
 writing of Athens, his own Rome was just beginning 
 to go downhill in the same way and for the same 
 
 causes : 
 
 ' Nescit equo rudis 
 Hserere ingenuus puer, 
 Venarique timet, ludere doctior 
 Grseco seu jubeas trocho, 
 Seu mails vetita legibus alea : '
 
 302 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 unlike those early times, when Heroic Father begot 
 and bred Heroic Son; Generation followed Generation, 
 crown'd with Laurel and with Oak ; under a system of 
 Education, the same Livy says, handed down, as it were 
 an Art, from the very foundation of Kome, and filling her 
 Parliament with Generals, each equal, he rhetorically 
 declares, to Alexander. But come, my dear fellow," 
 said I, jumping up, "here have I been holding forth 
 like a little Socrates, while the day is passing over our 
 heads. We have forgotten poor Lexilogus, who (I should 
 not wonder) may have stolen away, like your fox, to 
 Cambridge." 
 
 Euphranor, who seemed to linger yet awhile, never- 
 theless followed my example. On looking at my watch 
 I saw we could not take anything like the walk we had 
 proposed and yet be at home by their College dinner; * 
 so as it was I who had wasted the day, I would stand 
 the expense, I said, of dinner at the Inn: after which 
 we could all return at our ease to Cambridge in the 
 Evening. As we were leaving the Bowling-green, 
 I called up to Lycion, who thereupon appeared at 
 the Billiard-room window with his coat off, and asked 
 him if he had nearly finish'd his Game ? By way of 
 answer, he asked us if we had done with our Ogres 
 and Giants'? whom, on the contrary, I said, we were 
 now running away from that we might live to fight 
 another day would he come with us into the fields 
 for a walk ? or, if he meant to go on with his Bill- 
 * Then at :i.:JO p. in.
 
 EUPHRANOR, 303 
 
 iards, would he dine with us on our return? "Not 
 walk with us/' he said; and when I spoke of dinner 
 again, seemed rather to hesitate; but at last said, 
 "Very well;" and, nodding to us, retired with his cue 
 into the room. 
 
 Then Euphranor and I, leaving the necessary orders 
 within, returned a little way to look for Lexilogus, whom 
 we soon saw, like a man of honour as he was, coming 
 on his way to meet us. In less than a minute we had 
 met ; and he apologised for having been delay'd by one 
 of Aunt Martha's asthma-fits, during which he had not 
 liked to leave her. 
 
 After a brief condolence, we all three turn'd back ; 
 and I told him how, after all, Euphranor and I had 
 play'd no Billiards, but had been arguing all the time 
 about Digby and his books. 
 
 Lexilogus smiled, but made no remark, being natu- 
 rally little given to Speech. But the day was delightful, 
 and we walk'd briskly along the road, conversing on 
 many topics, till a little further on we got into the 
 fields. These for it had been a warm May were now 
 almost in their Prime, (and that of the Year, Crabbe 
 used to say, fell with the mowing,) crop-thick with 
 Daisy, Clover, and Buttercup ; and, as we went along, 
 Euphranor, whose thoughts still ran on what we had 
 been talking about, quoted from Chaucer whom we had 
 lately been looking at together : 
 
 " Embroidered was lie as it were a Mede, 
 All full of fresh Flowris, both white and rede,"
 
 304 EUPHRAXOR. 
 
 and added, " What a picture was that, by the way, of a 
 young Knight ! " 
 
 I had half-forgotten the passage, and Lexilogus had 
 never read Chaucer : so I begg'd Euphranor to repeat 
 it ; which he did, with an occasional pause in his 
 Memory, and jog from mine. 
 
 'With him there was his Sonn, a yonge Squire, 
 A Lover, and a lusty Bachelire, 
 With Lockis crull, as they were leid in press ; 
 Of Twenty yere of age he was, I ghesse ; 
 Of his Stature he was of evin length, 
 Wonderly deliver, and of grete Strength ; 
 And he had ben somtime in Chevauchie, 
 In Flandris, in Artois, and Picardie, 
 And born him wel, as of so litil space, 
 In hope to standin in his Lady's grace. 
 Embroidered was he as it were a Mede, 
 All full of fresh Flowris, both white and rede ; 
 . Singing he was or floyting all the day ; 
 He was as fresh as is the month of May : 
 Short was his Goun with slevis long and wide, 
 Well couth he set on Hors, and fair yride ; 
 And Songis he couth make, and well endyte, 
 Just, and eke daunce, and well portraye and write. 
 So hote he lovid that by nighter tale 
 He slept no more than doth the Nightingale. 
 Curteys he was, lowly, and servisable, 
 And karf before his Fadir at the table.' 
 
 " Chaucer, however," said Euphranor, when he had 
 finished the passage, " credited his young Squire with 
 other Accomplishments than you would trust him with, 
 Doctor. See, he dances, draws, and even indites songs 
 somewhat of a Dilettante, after all."
 
 EUPHRANOR, 305 
 
 "But also/' I added, "is of 'grete Strength,' 'fair 
 yrides/ having already ' born him wel in Chevauchie.' 
 Besides/' continued I, (who had not yet subsided, I 
 suppose, from the long swell of my former sententious- 
 ness,) "in those days, you know, there was scarce any 
 Reading, which now, for better or worse, occupies so 
 much of our time ; Men left that to Clerk and School- 
 man ; contented, as we before agreed, to follow their 
 bidding to Pilgrimage and Holy war. Some of those 
 gentler Accomplishments would then have been needed 
 to soften manners, just as rougher ones to strengthen 
 ours. And, long after that, Sir Philip Sidney might 
 well indulge in a little Sonneteering, amid all those 
 public services which ended at Zutphen ; as later on, in 
 the Stuart days, Lord Dorset troll off 'To all you 
 Ladles now on Land,' from the Fleet that was just going 
 into Action off the coast of Holland." 
 
 "'Even Master Samuel Pepys," said Euphranor, laugh- 
 ing, might sit with a good grace down to practise his 
 'Beauty retire,' after riding to Huntingdon and back, as 
 might Parson Adams have done many years after." 
 
 " They were both prefigured among those Canterbury 
 Pilgrims so many years before," said I. " Only think 
 of it ! Some nine-and-twenty, I think, ' by aventure 
 yfalle in feleweship,' High and Low, Rich and Poor, 
 Saint and Sinner, Cleric and Lay, Knight, Ploughman, 
 Prioress, Wife of Bath, Shipman, hunting Abbot-like 
 Friar, Poor Parson (Adams' Progenitor) Webster 
 (Pepys') 011 rough-riding 'Stot ' or ambling Palfrey,
 
 306 EUPHRAXOK. 
 
 inarshall'd by mine Host of the Tabard to the music of 
 the Miller's Bag-pipes, on their sacred errand to St. 
 Thomas 7 ; and one among them taking note of all in 
 Verse still fresh as the air of those Kentish hills they 
 travelled over on that April morning four hundred 
 years ago." 
 
 "Lydgate too, I remember," said Euphranor, "tells 
 of Chaucer's good-humour'd encouragement of his 
 Brother-poets I cannot now recollect the lines," he 
 added, after pausing a little.* 
 
 "A famous Man of Business too," said I, "employ'd 
 by Princes at home and abroad. And ready to fight as 
 to write ; having, he says, when some City people had 
 accused him of Untruth, ' prepared his body for Mars 
 his doing, "if any contraried his saws.'" 
 
 " A Poet after your own heart, Doctor, sound in 
 wind and limb, Mind and Body. In general, however, 
 they are said to be a sickly, irritable, inactive, and 
 solitary race.'' 
 
 " Not our 'Canterbury Pilgrim' for one/' said I; ''no. 
 nor his successor. William Shakespeare, who, after a 
 somewhat roving Knighthood in the country, became 
 a Player, Play-wright, and Play-manager in London, 
 
 " The verses Euphranor could not remember are these : 
 
 " For Chaucer that my Master was, and knew 
 What did belong to writing Verse and Prose, 
 
 Ne'er stumbled at small faults, nor yet did view 
 With scornful eyes the works and books of those 
 
 That in his time did write, nor yet would taunt 
 
 At any man, to fear him or to daunt." 
 
 ,/v />s 
 
 7i v- /?!
 
 EUPHRAXOR. 307 
 
 where, after managing (as not all managers do) to make 
 a sufficient fortune, he returned home again to settle 
 in his native Stratford whither by the way he had 
 made occasional Pilgrimages before on horseback, of 
 course putting up for the night at the Angel of 
 Oxford about which some stories are told " 
 
 '' As fabulous as probably those of his poaching in 
 earlier days," said Euphranor. 
 
 " Well, however that may be and I constantly be- 
 lieve in the poaching part of the Story to Stratford 
 he finally retired, where he built a house and planted 
 Mulberries, and kept company with John-a-Combe, 
 and the neighbouring Knights and Squires except 
 perhaps the Lucys as merrily as with the Wits 
 of London ; all the while supplying his own little 
 ' Globe ' and, from it, ' the Great globe itself,' with 
 certain manuscripts, in which (say his Fellow-players 
 and first Editors) Head and hand went so easily to- 
 gether as scarce to leave a blot on the pages they 
 travell' d over." 
 
 "Somewhat resembling Sir Walter Scott's, I think," 
 said Euphranor, " in that love for Country home, and 
 Country neighbour aye. and somewhat also in that 
 easy intercourse between Head and hand in composi- 
 tion which those who knew them tell of however 
 unequal in the result. Do you remember Lockhart's 
 saying how glibly Sir Walter's pen was heard to canter 
 over the paper, before 'Atra Cura' saddled herself 
 behind him ? "
 
 308 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 u Ah, yes," said I ; u ' Magician of the North ' they 
 call'd him in my own boyish days ; and such he is to me 
 now; though, maybe, not an Archi-magus like him of 
 Stratford, to set me down in Rome, Athens, Egypt, with 
 their Heroes, Heroines, and Commoners, moving and 
 talking as living men and women about me, howsoever 
 'larger than human' through the breath of Imagination 
 in which he has clothed them." 
 
 " Somebody your Carlyle, I believe," said Euphra- 
 nor, " lays it down that Sir Walter's Characters are in 
 general fashioned from without to within the reverse 
 of Shakespeare's way and Nature's." 
 
 '' What," said I, " according to old Sartor's theory, 
 beginning from the over-coat of temporary Circum- 
 stance, through the temporary Tailor's ' Just-au-corps,' 
 till arriving at such centre of Humanity as may lie 
 within the bodily jerkin we talk'd of?" 
 
 " Something of that sort, I suppose," said Euphranor ; 
 " but an you love me, Doctor, no more of that odious old 
 jerkin, whether Sterne's or Carlyle's." 
 
 "Well," said I, u if the Sartor's charge hold good, it 
 must lie against the Heroes and Heroines of the later, 
 half -historical, Romances ; in which, nevertheless, are 
 scenes where our Elizabeth, and James, and Lewis of 
 France figure, that seem to me as good in Character 
 and Circumstance as any in that Henry the Eighth, 
 which lias always till quite lately been accepted for 
 Shakespeare's. But Sartor's self will hardly maintain 
 his charge against the Deanses, Dumbiedykes, Ochil-
 
 
 EUPHRANOR. 309 
 
 trees, Baillies, and others of the bona-fide Scotch Novels, 
 with the likes of whom Scott fell 'in feleweship' from a 
 Boy, riding about the country 'born to be a trooper,' 
 he said of himself; no, nor with the Bradwardines, 
 Both wells, Maccombicks, Macbriars, and others, High- 
 lander, Lowlander, Royalist, Roundhead, Churchman 
 or Covenanter, whom he animated with the true Scot- 
 tish blood which ran in himself as well as in those he 
 lived among, and so peopled those stories which are be- 
 come Household History to us. I declare that I scarce 
 know whether a sigTit of Macbeth's blasted heath would 
 move me more than did the first sight of the Lammermoor 
 Hills when I rounded the Scottish coast on first going 
 to Edinburgh ; or of that ancient ' Heart of Mid- 
 Lothian ' when I got there. But the domestic Tragedy 
 naturally comes more nearly home to the bosom of 
 your Philistine." 
 
 " Sir Walter's stately neighbour across the Tweed," 
 said Euphranor, " took no great account of his Novels, 
 and none at all of his Verse though, by the way, he 
 did call him ' Great Minstrel of the Border ' after re- 
 visiting Yarrow in his company ; perhaps he meant it 
 only of the Minstrelsy which Scott collected, you know." 
 
 " Wordsworth ? " said I u a man of the Milton rather 
 than of the Chaucer and Shakespeare type without 
 humour, like the rest of his Brethren of the Lake." 
 
 "Not but he loves Chaucer, as much as you can, Doc- 
 tor, for those fresh touches of Nature, and tenderness 
 of Heart insomuch that he has re-cast the Jew of
 
 1^ 
 
 310 EUPHRANOK. 
 
 Lincoln's Story into a form more available for modern 
 readers." 
 
 " And successfully ? " 
 
 u Ask Lexilogus Ah! I forget that he never read 
 Chaucer; but I know that he loves Wordsworth next to 
 his own Cowper." 
 
 Lexilogus believed that he liked the Poem in question, 
 but he was not so familiar with it as with many other 
 of Wordsworth's pieces. 
 
 "Ah, you and I, Euphranor," said I, "must one day 
 teach Lexilogus the original before he is become too 
 great a Don to heed such matters." 
 
 Lexilogus smiled, and Euphrauor said that before 
 that time came, Lexilogus and he would teach me in 
 return to love Wordsworth more than I did or pre- 
 tended to do. Not only the Poet, but the Man, he said, 
 who loved his Home as well as Shakespeare and Scott 
 loved theirs aye, and his Country Neighbours too, 
 though perhaps in a sedater way; and, as so many 
 of his Poems show, as sensible as Sir Walter of the 
 sterling virtues of the Mountaineer and Dalesman lie 
 lived among, though, maybe, not of their humour. 
 
 " Was he not also pretty exact in his office of stamp- 
 distributor among them? " asked I. 
 
 u Come, you must not quarrel, Doctor, with the Busi- 
 ness which, as with Chaucer and Shakespeare, may have 
 kept the Poetic Element in due proportion with the rest 
 including, by the way, such a store of your Animal, 
 laid in from constant climbing the mountain, and skat-
 
 EUPHRANOE. 311 
 
 ing on the lake, that he may still be seen, I am told, at 
 near upon Eighty, travelling with the shadow of the 
 cloud up Helvellyn.'' 
 
 " Bravo, Old Man of the Mountains ! " said I. " But, 
 nevertheless, it would not have been amiss with him 
 had he gone, had he been seut earlier, and further, from 
 his mountain-mother's lap, and had some of his con- 
 ceit, I must not call it Pride, then taken out of him 
 by a freer intercourse with men." 
 
 "I suppose," said Euphranor, again laughing, "you 
 would knock a young Apollo about like the rest of us 
 common pottery ? " 
 
 "I think I should send young Wordsworth to that 
 Military Drill of ours, and see if some rough-riding 
 would not draw some of that dangerous Sensibility 
 which 'young Edwin' is apt to mistake for poetical 
 Genius." 
 
 "Gray had more than that in him, I know,'' said 
 Euphrauor ; " but I doubt what might have become of 
 his poetry had such been the discipline of his Eton 
 day." 
 
 ''Perhaps something better perhaps nothing at 
 all and he the happier man." 
 
 "But not you. Doctor for the loss of his Elegy 
 with all your talk.'' 
 
 a No ; I am always remembering, and always forget- 
 ting it ; remembering, I mean, the several stanzas, and 
 forgetting how they link together ; partly, perhaps, be- 
 cause of each being: so severallv elaborated. Neither
 
 312 EUPHRANOE. 
 
 Yeomanry Drill nor daily Plough drove the Muse 
 out of Burns." 
 
 "Nor the Melancholy neither, for that . matter," said 
 Euphranor. " Those ' Banks and braes ' of his could 
 not bestow on him even the i momentary joy' which 
 those Eton fields 'beloved in vain' breathed into the 
 heart of Gray." 
 
 "Are you not forgetting," said I, "that Burns was 
 not then singing of himself, but of some forsaken dam- 
 sel, as appears by the second stanza, which few, by the 
 way, care to remember? As unremember'd it may have 
 been," I continued, after a pause, "by the only living 
 and like to live Poet I had known, when, so many 
 years after, he found himself beside that 'bonnie Boon' 
 and whether it were from recollection of poor Burns, 
 or of ' the days that are no more' which haunt us all, I 
 know not I think he did not know but, he some- 
 how 'broke,' as he told me, 'into a passion of tears.' 
 Of tears which, during a pretty long and intimate inter- 
 course, I had never seen glisten in his eye but once, 
 when reading Virgil ' dear old Virgil,' as he call'd 
 him together : and then of the burning of Troy in the 
 Second yEneid whether moved by the catastrophe's 
 self, or the majesty of the Verse it is told in or, as 
 before, scarce knowing why. For, as King Arthur 
 shall bear witness, no yjoung Edwin he, though, as a 
 great Poet, comprehending all the softer stops of hu- 
 man Emotion in that Diapason where the Intellectual, 
 no less than what is call'd the Poetical, faculty pre- 
 
 ^?v~ 
 
 &
 
 EUPHRANOR, 313 
 
 dominated. As all who knew him know, a Man at all 
 points, Euphranor like yonr Digby, of grand propor- 
 tion and feature, significant of that inward Chivalry, 
 becoming his ancient and honourable race ; when him- 
 self a ' Yonge Squire,' like him in Chaucer ; of grete 
 strength,' that could hurl the crow-bar further than any 
 of the neighbouring clowns, whose humours, as well as 
 of their betters, Knight, Squire, Landlord and Land- 
 tenant, he took quiet note of, like Chaucer himself. 
 Like your Wordsworth on the Mountain, he too, when 
 a Lad, abroad on the Wold ; sometimes of a night with 
 the Shepherd ; watching not only the Sheep on the 
 greensward, whom individually he knew, but also 
 
 ' The fleecy Star that bears 
 Andromeda far off Atlantic seas ' 
 
 along with those the Zodiacal constellations which Aries, 
 I think, leads over the field of Heaven. He then observed 
 also some of those uncertain phenomena of Night : un- 
 surmised apparitions of the Northern Aurora, with 
 some shy glimpses of which no winter no, nor even 
 summer night, he said, was utterly un visited; and 
 those strange voices, whether of creeping brook, or 
 copses muttering to themselves far off perhaps the yet 
 more impossible Sea together with ' nameless sounds 
 we know not whence they come/ says Crabbe, but all 
 inaudible to the ear of Day. He was not then, I suppose, 
 unless the Word spontaneously came upon him, think- 
 ing how to turn what he saw and heard into Verse ; a
 
 314 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 premeditation that is very likely to defeat itself. For 
 is not what we call Poetry said to be an Inspiration, 
 which, if not kindling at the sudden collision, or 
 recollection, of Reality, will yet less be quicken'd by 
 anticipation, howsoever it may be controll'd by after- 
 thought f " 
 
 Something to this effect I said, though, were it but 
 for lack of walking breath, at no so long-winded a flight 
 of eloquence. And then Euphranor, whose lungs were 
 so much in better order than mine, though I had left 
 him so little opportunity for using them, took up where 
 I left off, and partly read, and partly told us of a delight- 
 ful passage from his Godefridus, to this effect, that, if 
 the Poet could not invent, neither could his Reader under- 
 stand him, when he told of Ulysses and Diomed listen- 
 ing to the crane clanging in the marsh by night, without 
 having experienced something of the sort. And so we 
 went on, partly in jest, partly in earnest, drawing 
 Philosophers of all kinds into the same net in which 
 we had entangled the Poet and his Critic How the 
 Moralist who worked alone in his closet was apt to mis- 
 measure Humanity, and be very angry when the cloth 
 he cut out for him would not fit how the best His- 
 tories were written by those who themselves had been 
 actors in them Gibbon, one of the next best, I believe, 
 recording how the discipline of the Hampshire Militia 
 he served as Captain in how odd he must have looked 
 in the uniform ! enlighten'd him as to the evolutions 
 of a Roman Legion And so on a great deal more;
 
 EUPHRANOR, 315 
 
 till, suddenly observing how the sun had declined from 
 his meridian, I look'd at my watch, and ask'd my com- 
 panions did not they begin to feel hungry, like myself ? 
 They agreed with me ; and we turn'd homeward : and 
 as Lexilogus had hitherto borne so little part in the con- 
 versation, I began to question him about Herodotus and 
 Strabo, (whose books I had seen lying open upon his 
 table,) and drew from him some information about the 
 courses of the Nile and the Danube, and the Geography 
 of the Old World : till, all of a sudden, our conversation 
 skipt from Olympus, I think, to the hills of Yorkshire 
 our own old hills and the old friends and neigh- 
 bours who dwelt among them. And as we were thus 
 talking, we heard the galloping of Horses behind us, 
 (for we were now again upon the main road,) and, look- 
 ing back as they were just coming up, I recognised 
 Phidippus for one of the riders, with two others whom 
 I did not know. I held up my hand, and call'd out to 
 him as he was passing ; and Phidippus, drawing up his 
 Horse all snorting and agitated with her arrested course, 
 wheel'd back and came along-side of us. 
 
 I ask'd him what he was about, galloping along the 
 road ; I thought scientific men were more tender of 
 their horses' legs and feet. But the roads, he said, 
 were quite soft with the late rains; and they were only 
 trying each other's speed for a mile or so. 
 
 By this time his two companions had pulled up some 
 way forward, and were calling him to come 011 : but 
 he said, laughing, " they had quite enough of it," and
 
 316 EUPHRANOR, 
 
 address'd himself with many a " Steady! " and " So ! So ! " 
 to pacify Miss Middleton, as he called her, who still 
 caper'd, plung'd, and snatch'd at her bridle ; his friends 
 shouting louder and louder " Why the Devil he didn't 
 come on ? " 
 
 He waved his hand to them in return ; and with a 
 u Confound" and " Deuce take the Fellow," they set off 
 away toward the town. On which Miss Middleton be- 
 gan afresh, plunging, and blowing out a peony nostril 
 after her flying fellows ; until, what with their dwin- 
 dling in distance, and some expostulation address' d to 
 her by her Master as to a fractious Child, she seem'd to 
 make up her mind to the indignity, and composed her- 
 self to go pretty quietly beside us. 
 
 I then asked him did he not remember Lexilogus, 
 (Euphranor he had already recognised,) and Phidip- 
 pus, who really had not hitherto seen who it was, (Lexi- 
 logus looking shyly down all the while,) call'd out 
 heartily to him, and, wheeling his mare suddenly be- 
 hind us, took hold of his hand, and began to inquire 
 about his family in Yorkshire. 
 
 " One would suppose," said I, " you two fellows had 
 not met for years." 
 
 "It was true," Phidippus said, " they did not meet as 
 often as he wish'd; but Lexilogus would not come to 
 his rooms, and he did not like to disturb Lexilogus at 
 his books; and so the time went on." 
 
 I then inquired about his own reading, which, though 
 not much, was not utterly neglected, it seemed; and he
 
 EUPHRANOR, 317 
 
 said he had meant to ask one of us to beat something 
 into his stupid head this summer in Yorkshire. 
 
 Lexilogus, I knew, meant to stop at Cambridge all 
 the long vacation ; but Euphranor said he should be at 
 home, for anything he then knew, and they could talk 
 the matter over when the time came. We then again 
 fell to talking of our County; and among other things 
 I asked Phidippus if his horse were Yorkshire, of old 
 famous for its breed, as well as of Riders, and how 
 long he had her, and so forth. 
 
 Yorkshire she was, a present from his Father, "and 
 a great pet," he said, bending down his head, which 
 Miss Middleton answered by a dip of hers, shaking the 
 bit in her mouth, and breaking into a little canter, 
 which however was easily suppressed. 
 
 "Miss Middleton?" said I "what, by Bay Middle- 
 ton out of Coquette, by Tomboy out of High-Life 
 Below-Stairs, right up to Mahomet and his Mares?" 
 
 " Right," he answered, laughing, ''as far as Bay Mid- 
 dleton was concerned." 
 
 " But, Phidippus," said I, "she's as black as a coal! " 
 
 "And so was her Dam, a Yorkshire Mare," he an- 
 swered ; which, I said, saved the credit of all parties. 
 Might she perhaps be descended from our famous 
 " Yorkshire Jenny," renowned in Newmarket Verse ? 
 But Phidippus had never heard of "Yorkshire Jenny," 
 nor of the Ballad, which I promised to acquaint him 
 with, if he would stop on his way back, and dine with us 
 at Chesterton, where his Mare might have her Dinner
 
 318 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 too all of us Yorkshireraen except Lycion, whom 
 he knew a little of. There was to be a Boat-race, 
 however, in the evening, which Phidippus said he 
 must leave us to attend, if dine with us he did; for, 
 though not one of the Crew on this occasion, (not 
 being one of the best,) he must yet see his own Trin- 
 ity boat keep the head of the River. As to that, I 
 said, we were all bound the same way, which indeed 
 Euphranor had proposed before : and so the whole 
 affair was settled. 
 
 As we went along, I began questioning him concern- 
 ing some of those Equestrian difficulties which Euphra- 
 nor and I had been talking of : all which Phidippus 
 thought was only my usual banter "he was no Judge 
 I must ask older hands," and so forth until we 
 reach'd the Inn, when I begg'd Euphranor to order din- 
 ner at once, while I and Lexilogus accompanied Phidip- 
 pus to the Stable. There, after giving his mare in 
 charge to the hostler with due directions as to her 
 toilet and table, he took off her saddle and bridle him- 
 self, and adjusted the head-stall. Then, folio w'd out of 
 the stable by her naming eye and pointed ears, he too 
 pausing a moment on the threshold to ask me "was she 
 not a Beauty?" (for he persisted in the delusion of my 
 knowing more of the matter than I chose to confess,) 
 we cross' d over into the house. 
 
 There, having wash'd our hands and faces, we went 
 up into the Billiard-room, where we found Euphranor 
 and Lycion playing, Lycion very lazily, like a man
 
 EUPHRAXOR. 319 
 
 who had already too much of it, but yet nothing; better 
 to do. After a short while, the girl came to tell us all 
 was ready ; and, after that slight hesitation as to pre- 
 cedence which Englishmen rarely forget on the least 
 ceremonious occasions, Lexilogus, in particular, pans- 
 ing timidly at the door, and Euphranor pushing him 
 gently forward, we got down to the little Parlour, 
 very airy and pleasant, with its windows opening on 
 the bowling-green, the table laid with a clean white 
 cloth, and upon that a dish of smoking beefsteak, at 
 which I, as master of the Feast, and, as Euphranor 
 slyly intimated, otherwise entitled, sat down to officiate. 
 For some time the clatter of knife and fork, and the 
 pouring of ale, went on, mix'd with some conversation 
 among the young men about College matters : till Ly- 
 cion began to tell us of a gay Ball he had lately been 
 at, and of the Families there; among whom he named 
 three young Ladies from a neighbouring County, by 
 far the handsomest women present, he said. 
 
 " And very accomplished, too, I am told,' 1 said Euphra- 
 nor. 
 
 "Oh, as for that," replied Lycion, "they Valse very 
 well." He hated " your accomplished women,'' he said. 
 
 " Well, there,' 1 said Euphranor, " I suppose the Doc- 
 tor will agree with you/ 1 
 
 I said, certainly Yah ing would be no great use to me 
 personally unless, as some Lady of equal size and 
 greater rank had said, I could meet with a concave 
 partner.
 
 320 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 "One knows so exactly," said Lycion, " what the Doc- 
 tor would choose, a woman 
 
 ' Well versed in the Arts 
 Of Pies, Puddings, and Tarts,' 
 
 as one used to read of somewhere, I remember." 
 
 "Not forgetting," said I, "the being able to help in 
 compounding a pill or a plaister ; which I dare say your 
 Great-grandmother knew something about, Lycion, for 
 in those days, you know, Great ladies studied Simples. 
 Well, so I am fitted, as Lycion is to be with one who 
 can Valse through life with him." 
 
 " l And follow so the ever-rolling Year 
 With profitable labour to their graves,' " 
 
 added Euphranor, laughing. 
 
 " I don't want to marry her," said Lycion testily. 
 
 " Then Euphranor," said I, " will advertise for a 
 4 Strong-minded' Female, able to read Plato with him, 
 and Wordsworth, and Digby, and become a Mother of 
 Heroes. As to Phidippus there is no doubt Diana 
 Vernon " 
 
 But Phidippus disclaimed any taste for Sporting 
 ladies. 
 
 "Well, come," said I, passing round a bottle of sherry 
 I had just call'd for, " every man to his liking, only all 
 of you taking care to secure the accomplishments of 
 Health and Good-humour." 
 
 "Ah, there it is, out at last! " cried Euphranor, clap- 
 ping his hands ; " I knew the Doctor would choose as 
 Frederic for his Grenadiers."
 
 EUPHRANOR. 321 
 
 " So you may accommodate me with a motto from 
 another old Song whenever my time comes ; 
 
 ' Give Isaac the Nymph who no beauty can boast, 
 But Health and Good-humour to make her his toast/ 
 
 Well, every man to his fancy Here's to mine ! And 
 when we have finished the bottle, which seems about 
 equal to one more errand round the table, we will 
 adjourn, if you like, to the Bowling-green, which 
 Euphranor will tell us was the goodly custom of our 
 Forefathers, and I can recommend as a very whole- 
 some after-dinner exercise." 
 
 "Not, however, till we have the Doctor's famous 
 Ballad about Miss Middleton's possible Great-Great- 
 Grandmother," cried Euphranor, " by way of Pindaric 
 close to this Heroic entertainment, sung from the Chair, 
 who probably composed it '' 
 
 " As little as could sing it," I assured him. 
 
 " Oh, I remember, it was the Jockey who rode her ! " 
 
 " Perhaps only his Helper," answered I ; " such bad 
 grammar, and rhyme, and altogether want of what your 
 man how do you call him G. o. E. T. H. E. ' Gewtij] 
 will that do? calls, I believe, Art: 1 
 
 '' Who nevertheless maintained," said Euphranor, 
 "that the Ballad was scarcely possible but to those 
 who simply saw with their Eyes, heard with their Ears 
 and, I really think he said, fought with their fists, 
 I suppose also felt with their hearts without any no- 
 tion of 'Art- although Goethe himself, Schiller, and
 
 322 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Riickert, and other of your aesthetic Germans, Doctor, 
 have latterly done best in that line, I believe." 
 
 " Better than Cowper's ' Royal George,' " said I, 
 "where every word of the narrative tells, as from a 
 Seaman's lips?" 
 
 " That is something- before our time, Doctor." 
 
 " Better then than some of Campbell's which follow'd 
 it! or some of Sir Walter's ? or 'The Lord of Burleigh,' 
 which is later than all? But enough that my poor Jock 
 may chance to sing of his Mare as well as Shenstone of 
 his Strephon and Delia." 
 
 " Or more modern Bards of Codes in the Tiber, or 
 Regulus in the Tub," said Euphranor. " But come ! 
 Song from the Chair ! " he call'd out, tapping his glass 
 on the -table, which Phidippus echoed with his. 
 
 So with a prelusive " Well then," I began 
 
 " ' I'll sing you a Song-, and a merry, merry Song 
 
 By the way, Phidippus, what an odd notion of merri- 
 ment is a Jockey's, if this Song be a sample. I think I 
 have observed they have grave, taciturn faces, especially 
 when old, which they soon get to look. Is this from 
 much wasting, to carry little Flesh and large 
 Responsibility?" 
 
 "Doctor, Doctor, leave your faces, and begin!" 
 interrupted Euphranor. U I must call the Chair to 
 Order." 
 
 Thus admonish'd, with some slight interpolations, (to 
 be jump'd by the ^Esthetic,) I repeated the poor Ballad 
 
 rt
 
 EUPHRANOR. 323 
 
 which, dropt I know not how nor when into my ear, had 
 managed, as others we had talk'd of, to chink itself in 
 some corner of a memory that should have been occupied 
 with other professional jargon than a " Jockey's." 
 
 " I'll sing you a Song, and a merry, merry Song, 
 
 Concerning our Yorkshire Jen ; 
 Who never yet ran with Horse or Mare, 
 That ever she cared for a pin. 
 
 II. 
 
 When first she came to Newmarket town, 
 The Sportsmen all view'd her around ; 
 
 All the cry was, 'Alas, poor wench, 
 Thou never can run this ground ! ' 
 
 ill. 
 
 When they came to the starting-post, 
 
 The Mare look'd very smart ; 
 And let them all say what they will, 
 
 She never lost her start 
 
 which I don't quite understand, by the way : do you, 
 Lycion ? " No answer. 
 
 " When they got to the Two-mile post, 
 
 Poor Jenny was cast behind : 
 She was cast behind, she was cast behind, 
 All for to take her wind. 
 
 v. 
 
 When they got to the Three-mile post, 
 The Marc look 1 // very pah
 
 324 EUPHRANOK. 
 
 (Phidippus ! " His knee moved under the table ) 
 
 " SHE LAID DOWN HER EARS ON HER BONNY NECK, 
 AND BY THEM ALL DID SHE SAIL ; 
 
 VI. (Accelerando.) 
 
 ' Come follow me, come follow me, 
 
 All you who run so neat ; ' 
 And ere that you catch me again, 
 I'll make you well to sweat.' 
 
 vn. (Grundioso.) 
 
 When she got to the Winning-post, 
 
 The people all gave a shout : 
 And Jenny click'd up her Lily-white foot, 
 
 And jump'd like any Buck. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Jockey said to her, ' This race you have run. 
 
 This race for me you have got ; 
 You could gallop it all over again, 
 
 When the rest could hardly trot!'" 
 
 " They were Four-mile Heats in those days, you see, 
 would pose your modern Middletons, though Miss 
 Jenny, laying back her ears away from catching the 
 Wind, some think and otherwise 'palej with the dis- 
 tended vein and starting sinew of that Three-mile crisis, 
 nevertheless, on coming triumphantly in, click'd up that 
 lily-white foot of hers, (of which one, I have heard say, 
 is as good a sign as all four white are a bad,) and could, 
 as the Jockey thought, have gallop'd it all over again 
 ( 'an't you see him, Phidippus, for once forgetful of his
 
 EUPHRANOR. 325 
 
 professional stoicism, (but I don't think Jockeys were 
 quite so politic then,) bending forward to pat the bonny 
 Neck that measured the Victory, as he rides her slowly 
 back to the Weighing-house, is it'? follow'd by the 
 scarlet-coated Horsemen and shouting- People of those 
 days f all silent, and pass'd away for ever now, unless 
 from the memory of one pursy Doctor, who, were she 
 but alive, would hardly know Jenny's head from her 
 tail And now will you have any more wine f " said I, 
 holding up the empty decanter. 
 
 Phidippus, hastily finishing his glass, jump'd up ; and, 
 the others following him with more or less alacrity, we 
 all sallied forth on the Bowling-green. As soon as 
 there, Lycion of course pull'd out his Cigar-case, (which 
 he had eyed, I saw, with really good-humoured resigna- 
 tion during the Ballad,) and offer'd them all round, tell- 
 ing Phidippus he could recommend them as some of 
 Pontet's best. But Phidippus did not smoke, he said ; 
 which, together with his declining to bet on the Boat- 
 race, caused Lycion, I thought, to look on him with 
 some indulgence. 
 
 And now Jack was rolled upon the green; and I 
 bowl'd after him first, pretty well ; then Euphranor still 
 better ; then Lycion, with great indifference, and indif- 
 ferent success ; then Phidippus, who about rivall'd me ; 
 and last of all, Lexilogus, whom Phidippus had been 
 instructing in the mystery of the bias with some little 
 side-rolls along the turf, and who, he said, only wanted 
 a little practice to play as well as the best of us.
 
 326 EUPHRANOR. 
 
 Meanwhile, the shadows lengthened along the grass, 
 and after several bouts of play, Phidippus, who had to 
 ride round by Cambridge, said he must be off in time to 
 see his friends start. We should soon follow, I said ; 
 and Euphrauor asked him to his rooms after the race. 
 But Phidippus was engaged to sup with his crew. 
 
 " Where you will all be drunk," said I. 
 
 "No; there," said he, u you are quite mistaken, 
 Doctor." 
 
 "Well, well," I said, "away, then, to your race and 
 your supper." 
 
 " Mstd owEfjOvo? ^X'.ZICOTOO," added Euphranor, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " Msra, ' with,' or k after/ " said Phidippus, putting 
 on his gloves. 
 
 "Well, go on, Sir," said I, "Xwrppovoc ?" 
 
 " A temperate something or other " 
 
 " HX'.XUOtOD f " 
 
 " Supper ? he hesitated, smiling " ' After a tem- 
 perate supper T' ; 
 
 " Go down, Sir ; go down this instant ! " I roar'd out 
 to him as he ran from the bowling-green. And in a few 
 minutes we heard his mare's feet shuffling over the 
 stable threshold, and directly afterwards breaking into 
 a retreating canter beyond. 
 
 Shortly after this, the rest of us agreed it was time to 
 be gone. We walk'd along the fields by the Church, 
 (purposely to ask about the sick Lady by the way.) 
 eross'd the Ferry, and mingled with the crowd upon 
 
 /'.M
 
 EUPHRANOR. 327 
 
 the opposite shore; Townsmen and Gownsmen, with 
 the tassell'd Fellow-commoner sprinkled here and there 
 Reading men and Sporting men Fellows, and even 
 Masters of Colleges, not indifferent to the prowess of 
 their respective Crews all these, conversing on all 
 sorts of topics, from the slang in BeJTs Life to the last 
 new German Revelation, and moving in ever-changing 
 groups down the shore of the river, at whose farther 
 bend was a little knot of Ladies gathered up on a green 
 knoll faced and illuminated by the beams of the setting 
 sun. Beyond which point w r as at length heard some 
 indistinct shouting, which gradually increased, until 
 "They are off they are coming!'' suspended other 
 conversation among ourselves ; and suddenly the head 
 of the first boat turn'd the corner ; and then another 
 close upon it ; and then a third ; the crews pulling with 
 all their might compacted into perfect rhythm ; and the 
 crowd on shore turning round to follow along with 
 them, waving hats and caps, and cheering, " Bravo, St. 
 John's ! " " Go it, Trinity ! " the high crest and blow- 
 ing forelock of Phidippus's mare, and he himself shout- 
 ing encouragement to his crew, conspicuous over all 
 until, the boats reaching us, we also were caught up in 
 the returning tide of spectators, and hurried back 
 toward the goal ; where we arrived just in time to see 
 the Ensign of Trinity lowered from its pride of place, 
 and the Eagle of St. John's soaring there instead. Then, 
 waiting a little while to hear how the winner had won, 
 and the loser lost, and watching Phidippus engaged
 
 328 EUPHEANOR. 
 
 in eager conversation with his defeated brethren, 
 I took Euphranor and Lexilogus under either arm, 
 (Lycion having got into better company elsewhere,) and 
 walk'd home with them across the meadow leading to 
 the town, whither the dusky troops of Gownsmen with 
 all their confused voices seem'd as it were evaporating 
 in the twilight, while a Nightingale began to be heard 
 among the flowering Chestnuts of Jesus. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 POLONIUS.
 
 POLONIUS: 
 
 A COLLKCTION 
 
 OF 
 
 WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
 Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, 
 
 And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, 
 
 I WILL BE BRIEF. 
 
 (1852.)
 
 V-
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 FEW books are duller than books of Aphorisms and 
 Apophthegms. A Jest-book is, proverbially, no 
 joke ; a Wit-book, perhaps, worse ; but dullest of all, 
 probably, is the Moral-book, which this little volume 
 pretends to be. So with men : the Jester, the Wit, and 
 the Moralist, each wearisome in proportion as each 
 deals exclusively in his one commodity. " Too much of 
 one thing," says Fuller, " is good for nothing." 
 
 Bacon's " Apophthegms" seem to me the best collec- 
 tion of many men's sayings ; the greatest variety of 
 wisdom, good sense, wit, humour, and even simple 
 '' naivete," (as one must call it for want of a native 
 word,) all told in a style whose dignity and antiquity 
 (together with perhaps our secret consciousness of the 
 gravity and even tragic greatness of the narrator) add 
 a particular humour to the lighter stories. 
 
 Johnson said Selden's Table-talk was worth all the 
 French " Ana " together. Here also we find wit, 1m-
 
 334 PREFACE. 
 
 mour, fancy, and good sense alternating, something as 
 one has heard in some scholarly English gentleman's 
 after-dinner talk the best English common-sense in 
 the best common English. It outlives, I believe, all 
 Selden's books ; and is probably much better, collected 
 even imperfectly by another, than if he had put it- 
 together himself. 
 
 What would become of Johnson if Boswell had not 
 done as much for his talk f If the Doctor himself, or 
 some of his more serious admirers, had recorded it ! 
 
 And (leaving alone Epictetus, A Kempis, and other 
 Moral aphorists) most of the collections of this nature 
 I have seen, are made up mainly from Johnson and the 
 Essayists of the last century, his predecessors and imi- 
 tators ; when English thought and language had lost so 
 much of their vigour, freshness, freedom, and pictur- 
 esqueness so much, in short, of their native character, 
 under the French polish that came in with the second 
 Charles. "When one lights upon, "He who " " The man 
 who" "Of all the virtues that adorn the breast" 
 &c., one is tempted to swear, with Sir Peter Teazle, 
 against all "sentiment" and shut the book. How 
 glad should we be to have Addison's Table-talk as 
 we have Johnson's ! and how much better are Spence's 
 Anecdotes of Pope's Conversation than Pope's own 
 letters ! 
 
 If a scanty reader could, for the use of yet scantier 
 readers than himself, put together a few sentences of 
 the wise, and also of -the less wise, (and Tom Tyers
 
 PREFACE. 335 
 
 said a good thing or two in his day,*) from Plato, 
 Bacon, Rochefoucauld, (roethe, Carlyle, and others, a 
 little Truth, new or old, each after his kind nay, of 
 Truism too, (into which all truth must ultimately be 
 dogs-eared,) and which, perhaps, " the wit of one, and the 
 wisdom of many," has preserved in the shape of some 
 nameless and dateless Proverbs which yet " retain life 
 and vigour," and widen into new relations with the 
 widening world 
 
 Not a book of Beauties other than as all who have 
 the best to tell, have also naturally the best way of tell- 
 ing it ; nor of the " limbs and outward flourishes " of 
 Truth, however eloquent ; but in general, and as far as 
 I understand, of clear, decided, wholesome, and availa- 
 ble insight into our nature and duties. " Brevity is the 
 soul of Wit " in a far wider sense than as we now use 
 the word. " As the centre of the greatest circle," says 
 Sir Edward Coke, " is but a little prick, so the matter 
 of even the biggest business lies in a little room." So 
 the u Sentences of the Seven " are said to be epitomes of 
 whole systems of philosophy : which also Carlyle says 
 is the case with many a homely proverb. Anyhow that 
 
 * " Tom Tyers," said Johnson, " describes me best, ' a ghost who 
 never speaks till spoken to.' Another sentence in Tom's 'Resolu- 
 tions' still remains in my memory, 'Mem. to think more of the 
 living and less of the dead ; for the dead have a world of their 
 own.' " Tom was the original of Tom Restless in the Rambler, a 
 literary gossip about London in those days, author of Anec- 
 dotes of Pope, Addison, Johnson, &c. Johnson used to say of 
 him. " I never see Tom but he tells me something I did not know 
 before.''
 
 336 PREFACE. 
 
 famous My] csv ayav, the boundary law of Goodness 
 itself, as of all other things, (if one could only know 
 how to apply it,) brings one up with a wholesome halt 
 every now and then, and no where more fitly than in a 
 book of this kind, though, as usual, I am just now vio- 
 lating in the very act of vindicating it.* 
 
 The grand Truisms of life only life itself is said to 
 bring to life. We hear them from grandam and nurse, 
 
 * These oracular Truisms are some of them as impracticable as 
 more elaborate Truths. Who will do " too much" if he knows it 
 /.s- ' ' too much " ? " Know thyself " is far easier said than done ; and 
 might not a passage like the following make one suppose Shakspeare 
 had Bacon in his eye as the original Polonius, if the dates tallied ? 
 
 ' ' He that seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set him- 
 self too great, nor too small, tasks ; for the first will make him 
 dejected by often failures, and the second will make him a small 
 proceeder though by often prevailing. And at the first let him 
 practise with helps, as swimmers do with bladders or rushes ; but 
 after a time let him practise with disadvantages, as dancers do with 
 thick shoes. For it breeds perfection if the practice be harder 
 than the use. Where nature is mighty, and therefore the victory 
 hard, the degrees had need be, first, to stay and arrest nature in 
 time : like to him that would say over the four and twenty letters 
 when he was angry ; then go less in quantity, as if one should, in 
 forbearing wine, come from drinking healths to a draught at a 
 meal," &c. 
 
 If all chance of controlling nature depended on advice like this! 
 What is too great for a man's nature ? what too little ? what arc 
 bladders, and what thick shoes ? iclten is one to throw off one and 
 take the other ? He was a more effectual philosopher who thought 
 of repeating the alphabet when he was angry; though it is not 
 every man who knows when he is that.
 
 PREFACE. 337 
 
 write them in copy-books, biit only understand them as 
 years turn np occasions for practising or experiencing: 
 them. Nay, the longest and most eventfnl life scarce 
 suffices to teach us the most important of all. It is Death, 
 says Sir Walter Raleigh, " that puts into a man all the 
 wisdom of the world without saying a word." Only 
 when we have to part with a thing do we feel its value 
 unless indeed after we have parted with it a very 
 serious consideration. 
 
 When Sir Walter Scott lay dying, he called for his 
 son-in-law, and while the Tweed murmured through 
 the w^oods, and a September sun lit up the towers, 
 whose growth he had watched so eagerly, said to him, 
 " Be a good man ; only that can comfort you when you 
 come to lie here ! " "Be a good man ! " To that thread- 
 bare Truism shrunk all that gorgeous tapestry of writ- 
 ten and real Romance ! 
 
 u You knew all this," wrote Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, 
 rallying for a little while from his final attack "You 
 knew all this, and I thought I knew it too : but I know 
 it now with a new conviction." 
 
 Perhaps, next to realising all this in our own lives, 
 (when just too late,) we become most sensible of it 
 in reading the lives and deaths of others, such as 
 Scott's and Johnson's ; when we see all the years of 
 life, with all their ambitions, loves, animosities, 
 schemes of action all the"curas supervacnas, spes 
 inanes, et inexspectatos exitus hujus fugacissimae 
 " summed up in a volume or two; and what
 
 338 PREFACE. 
 
 seemed so long a history to them, but a Winter's Tale 
 to us. 
 
 Death itself was no Truism to Adam and Eve, nor to 
 many of their successors, I suppose; nay, some of their 
 very latest descendants^ it is said, have doubted if it be 
 an inevitable necessity of life : others, with more prob- 
 ability, whether a man can fully comprehend its inevit- 
 ableness till life itself be half over; beginning to believe 
 he must Die about the same time he begins to believe 
 he is a Fool. 
 
 "As are the leaves on the trees, even so are man's gener- 
 ations ; 
 
 This is the truest verse ever a poet has sung' : 
 Nevertheless few hearing it hear ; Hope, flattering alway, 
 Lives in the bosom of all reigns in the blood of the 
 Young." 
 
 " And why," .says the note-book of one ' nel mezzo del 
 cainmin di nostra vita,' " does one day still linger in my 
 memory ? I had started one fine October morning on a 
 ramble through the villages that lie beside the Ouse. 
 In high health and cloudless spirits, one regret perhaps 
 hanging upon the horizon of the heart, I walked through 
 Sharnbrook up the hill, and paused by the church on 
 the summit to look about me. The sun shone, the 
 clouds new, the yellow trees shook in the wind, the 
 river rippled in breadths of light and dark ; rooks and 
 daws wheeled and cawed aloft in the changing spaces
 
 PREFACE. 339 
 
 of blue above the spire ; the churchyard all still in the 
 sunshine below." 
 
 Old Shallow was not very sensible of Death even 
 when moralizing about old Double's "Certain, 'tis 
 very certain, Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to 
 all all shall die How good a yoke of bullocks at 
 Stamford fair ! " 
 
 Could we but on our journey hear the Truisms of life 
 called out to us, not by Chapoue, Cogan, &c., but by 
 such a voice as called out to Sir Lancelot and Sir Gala- 
 had, when they were about to part in the forest 
 " Think to deo wel ; for the one shall never see the 
 other before the dredeful day of dome ! " 
 
 Our ancestors were fond of such monitory Truisms 
 inscribed upon dials, clocks, and fronts of buildings ; as 
 that of "Time -and Tide wait for no man," still to be 
 seen on the Temple sun-dial ; and that still sterner one 
 I have read of, "Go about your business" not even 
 moralizing upon me. I dare say those who came sud- 
 denly and unaware upon the rvw6'. Xsaoiov over the 
 Delphian temple were brought to a stand for a while, 
 some thrown back into themselves by it, others (and 
 those probably much the greater number) seeing noth- 
 ing at all in it. 
 
 The parapet balustrade round the roof of Castle Ash- 
 by, in Northamptonshire, is carved into the letters, " NISI 
 
 DOMINUS CUSTODIAT DOMUM, FRUSTRA VIGILAT QUI 
 
 CUSTODIT EAM." This is not amiss to decipher as you 
 come up the long avenue some summer or autumn day,
 
 
 
 340 PREFACE. 
 
 and to moralize upon afterwards at the little " Rose and 
 Crown " at Yardley, if such good Homebrewed be there 
 as used to be before I knew I was to die.* 
 
 We move away the grass from a tombstone, itself 
 half buried, to get at any trite memento of mortality, 
 where it preaches more to us than many new volumes 
 of hot-pressed morals. Not but we can feel the warn- 
 ing whisper too, when Jeremy Taylor tells us that one 
 day the bell shall toll, and it shall be asked, "For 
 whom ? " and answered, " For us." 
 
 Some of these Truisms come home to us also in the 
 shape of old Proverbs, quickened by wit, fancy, rhyme, 
 alliteration, &c. These have been well defined to be 
 " the Wit of one and the Wisdom of many ; " and are 
 in some measure therefore historical indexes of the 
 nation that originates or retains them. Our English 
 Proverbs abound with good sense, energy, and courage, 
 as compactly expressed as may be ; making them prop- 
 erly enough the ready money of a people more apt to 
 
 * " A party of us were looking one autumn afternoon at a coun- 
 try church. Over the western door was a clock with, ' THE HOUR 
 COMETH,' written in gold, upon it. Polonius proceeded to explain, 
 rather lengthily, what a good inscription it was. 'But not very 
 apposite,' said Kosencrantz, ' seeing the clock has stopped.' The 
 sun was indeed setting, and the hands of the clock, glittering full 
 in his face, pointed up to noon. Osric however, with a slight lisp, 
 said, the inscription was all the more apt, ' for the hour would 
 come to the clock, instead of the clock following the hour.' On 
 which Horatio, taking out his watch, (which he informed us was 
 just then more correct than the sun,) told us that unless we set off 
 home directly we should be late for dinner. That was one way of 
 considering an Inscription."
 
 w- 
 
 PREFACE. 341 
 
 act than talk. " They drive the nail home in discourse," 
 says Ray, "and clench it with the strongest conviction." 
 
 A thoughtful Frenchman says that nearly all which 
 expresses any decided opinion has " quelque chose de 
 metrique, on de mesure." So as even so bare-faced a 
 truism as " Of two evils choose the least/' (superfluous 
 reason, and no rhyme at all !) is not without its secret 
 poetic charm. How much vain hesitation has it not cut 
 short ! 
 
 So that if Cogan and Chapone had not l>een made 
 poetical by the gods, but only brief 
 
 Sometimes indeed our old friend the Proverb gets too 
 much clipt in his course of circulation : as in the case 
 of that very important business to all Englishmen, a 
 Cold "STUFF A COLD AND STARVE A FEVER," has 
 been grievously misconstrued, so as to bring on the 
 fever it was meant to prevent. 
 
 Certainly Dr. Johnson (who could hit hard too) not 
 only did not always drive the nail home, but made it a 
 nail of wax, which Fuller truly says you can't drive at 
 all. " These sorrowful meditations," the Doctor says of 
 Prince Rasselas, "fastened on his mind; he passed four 
 months in resolving to lose no more time in idle re- 
 solves ; and was awakened to more vigorous exertion 
 by hearing a maid, who had broken a porcelain cup, 
 remark that ' what cannot be repaired is not to be 
 regretted.'" 
 
 But perhaps this was a Maid of Honour. If so, how- 
 ever, it proves that Maids of Honour of Rasselas' court
 
 342 PREFACE. 
 
 did not talk like those of George the Second's. Witness 
 jolly Mary Bellendeii's letters to Lady Suffolk. 
 
 Swift has a fashionable dialogue almost made up of 
 vulgar adages, which I should have thought the Beaux 
 and Belles left to the Mary Bellendens and Country 
 Squires of his day 
 
 " Grounding their fat faiths on old country proverbs." 
 
 Nor do I see any trace of it in the comedies of Congreve, 
 Vanbrugh, &c.* 
 
 Erasmus says that the Proverb is " a nonnullis Gra3- 
 eorum," thus defined, XOYO? w^sXijj.oc sv TCO [iuo, sv [xsTf/.a 
 7C<xpa%p6<j>et 7:0X0 TO ypvjai|j,ov s/wv sv iowaj)." The defi- 
 nition, it might seem at first, rather of a Fable, or 
 Parable, than a Proverb. But, beside that the titles of 
 many fables do become proverbs " Fox and Grapes," 
 
 * I find in my " Complete Correspondent," which seems begotten 
 by Dr. Johnson on Miss Seward, the following advice about Pro- 
 verbs. " STYLE. Vulgarity in language is a proof either of a mean 
 education or of associating with low company. Coarse Proverbial 
 expressions furnish such with their choicest flowers of rhetoric. 
 Instead of saying, ' Necessity compelled,' such an one would say, 
 'Needs must when the devil drives.' Such vulgar aphorisms ought 
 especially to be rejected as border upon profaneness. A good 
 writer would not say, 'It was all through you it happened,' but 'It 
 happened through your inattention,'" &c. 
 
 This elegance of style however does not always mend the mat- 
 ter ; as we read in Boswell that Dr. Johnson, having set the 
 company laughing by saying of some lady in the good English so 
 natural to him, " She 's good at bottom," tried to make them grave 
 again by, " What 's the laugh for ? I say the woman is fundament- 
 ally good." 
 
 The following is one of Punch's jokes ; I do not know if true of 
 the author referred to not true, I should suppose, of the class to
 
 PREFACE. 343 
 
 " Dog in Manger," &c., the title including the whole 
 signification, (like those " Sentences of the Seven,") so 
 many of our best proverbs are little whole fables in 
 themselves ; as when we say, " The Fat sow knows not 
 what the Lean one thinks," &c. 
 
 We are fantastic, histrionic creatures ; having so 
 much of the fool, loving a mixture of the lie, loving to 
 get our fellow-creatures into our scrapes and make them 
 play our parts the Ass of our dulness, the Fox of our 
 cunning, and so on in whose several natures those of 
 our Neighbours, as we think, come to a climax. Certainly, 
 swollen Wealth is well enacted by the fat sow reclining 
 in her sty, as a Dowager in an opera-box, serenely un- 
 conscious of all her kindred's leanness without. The 
 phrase " rolling in wealth " too suggests the same 
 fable. 
 
 which he belongs, (except as regards the foolish and vulgar use of 
 French) but very true of the Hammersmith education, of which 
 my complete Letter-writer Correspondent, I mean is an ex- 
 ponent. 
 
 DESULTORY REFLECTIONS. 
 
 BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX. 
 
 INIQUITOUS intercourses contaminate proper habits. 
 
 One individual may pilfer a quadruped, where another may not 
 cast his eyes over the boundary of a field. 
 
 In the absence of the feline race, the mice give themselves up to 
 various pastimes. 
 
 Feathered bipeds of advanced age are not to be entrapped with 
 the outer husks of corn. 
 
 Casualties will take place in the most excellently conducted 
 family circles. 
 
 More confectioners than are absolutely necessary are apt to ruin 
 the potage. LENNOX'S Lacon.
 
 344 PREFACE. 
 
 Indeed, is not every Metaphor (without which we can- 
 not speak five words) in some sort a Fable one thing 
 spoken of under the likeness of another? And how 
 easy (if need were) it is to dramatise, for instance, 
 Bacon's figure of discovering the depth, not by looking 
 on the surface ever so long, but beginning to sound it ! 
 
 And are these Fables so fabulous after all ? If beasts 
 do not really rise to the level on which we amuse our- 
 selves by putting them, we have an easy way of really 
 sinking to theirs. It is no fable surely that Circe bodily 
 transformed the captives of Sensuality into apes, hogs, 
 and goats ; as Cunning, Hypocrisy, and Rapacity graft 
 us with the sharp noses, sidelong eyes, and stealthy 
 gait of wolves, hyaenas, foxes, and serpents ; sometimes, 
 as in old fable too, the mis-features and foul expressions 
 of two baser animal passions as lust and cunning for 
 instance, with perhaps cruelty beside conform man 
 into a double or triple monster, more hideous than 
 any single beast. On the other hand, our more gener- 
 ous dispositions determine outwardly into the large 
 aspect of the lion, or the horse's speaking eye and in- 
 spired nostril. " There are innumerable animals to 
 which man may degrade his image, inward and out- 
 ward ; only a few to which he can properly (and that in 
 the Affections only) level it : but it is an ideal and 
 invisible type to which he must erect it." 
 
 " Such kind of parabolical wisdom," says Bacon, 
 u was much in use in ancient times, as by the Fables of 
 ^Esop, and the brief Sentences of the Seven, may appear.
 
 PREFACE. 345 
 
 And the cause was, for that it was then of necessity to ex- 
 press any point of reason which was more subtle or sharp 
 than the vulgar in that manner, because men in those 
 times wanted both variety of examples and subtlety of 
 conceit; and as Hieroglyphics were before letters, so 
 Parables were before arguments." 
 
 We cannot doubt that Christianity itself made way 
 by means of such Parables as never were uttered before 
 or after. Imagine (be it with reverence) that Jeremy 
 Bentham had had the promulgation of it ! 
 
 And as this figurative teaching was best for simple 
 people, "even now," adds Bacon, "such Parables do 
 retain much life and vigour, because Reason cannot be 
 so sensible, nor example so fit." Next to the Bible para- 
 bles, I believe John Bunyan remains the most effective 
 preacher, among the poor, to this day. 
 
 Nor is it only simple matters for simple people that 
 admit such illustration.* Again, Bacon says, " It is a 
 rule that whatsoever science is not consonant to pre- 
 
 * Fable might be made to exemplify the syllogism, but not to 
 illustrate it. " The Lion swore he would eat all flesh that came in 
 his way. One day he set his paw on a Polecat : the Polecat pleaded 
 that he was small, ill-flavoured, &c. ; but the Lion said, 'I have 
 sworn to eat all flesh that came in my way: you are flesh come in 
 my way ; therefore I will eat you.' " The syllogism is proved : but 
 the speakers do not illustrate, but obscure it, but because it is a 
 matter of understanding, of which no animal but man is the repre- 
 sentative. Your Lion, noble beast as he is, is only to be trusted 
 with an Euthymeme. One sees this fault in the Eastern fables. 
 Birds and beasts are made to reason, instead of representing the 
 passions and affections they really share with men. This also is 
 the vital fault of Drvden's Hind and Panther.
 
 346 PREFACE. 
 
 suppositions must pray in aid Similitudes." " Neither 
 Philosopher nor Historiographer," says Sir Philip Sid- 
 ney, " could at the first have entered into the gates of 
 popular judgment if they had not taken a great Pass- 
 port of Poetry," which deals so in Similitudes. " For 
 he " (the poet) " doth not only show the way, but giveth 
 so sweet a prospect into the way as will entice any man 
 to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should 
 lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a 
 cluster of grapes, that, full of that taste, you may long 
 to pass further." 
 
 Who can doubt that Plato wins us to his Wisdom by 
 that skin and body of Poetry in which Sir Philip declares 
 his philosophy is clothed ? Not the sententious oracle 
 of one wise man, but evolved dramatically by many like 
 ourselves. The scene opens in Old Athens, which his 
 genius continues for us for ever new; the morning 
 dawns; a breeze from the J3ga3an flutters upon our 
 foreheads ; the rising sun tips the friezes of the Par- 
 thenon, and gradually slants upon the house in whose 
 yet twilight courts gather a company of white-vested, 
 whispering guests, " expecting till that fountain of wis- 
 dom," Protagoras, should arise ! 
 
 Carlyle notices, as one of Goethe's chief gifts, " his 
 emblematic intellect, his never-failing tendency to trans- 
 form into slmpe, into life, the feeling that may dwell in 
 him. Every thing has form, has visual existence ; the 
 poet's imagination bodies forth the forms of things un- 
 seen, and his pen turns them into shape." The same is,
 
 PREFACE. 347 
 
 I believe, remarkable, probably too remarkable, in 
 Richter : and is especially characteristic of Carlyle 
 himself, who to a figurative genius, like Goethe's, adds 
 a passion which Goethe either had not or chose to sup- 
 press, which brands the truth double-deep. And who 
 can doubt that Bacon, could it possibly have been his 
 own, would have clothed Beutham's bare argument with 
 cloth of gold ? 
 
 He says again, " Reasons plainly delivered, and always 
 after one manner, especially with fine and fastidious 
 minds, enter heavily and dully; whereas, if they be 
 varied, and have more life and vigour put into them by 
 these forms and imaginations, they carry a stronger ap- 
 prehension, and many times win the mind to a resolu- 
 tion." Which, if it be true in any matter, most of all 
 surely in morals, for the most part so old, so trite, and, 
 in this naughty world, so dull. Are not all minds 
 grown " fine and fastidious " iu these matters, apt to 
 close against any but the most musical voice ? 
 
 Which also (to join the snake's head and tail of this 
 rambling overgrown Preface) may account, rightly or 
 WTongly, for my rejection of those essayists aforesaid, 
 (who crippled their native genius by a style which has 
 left them " more of the ballast than the sail,") and niy 
 adoption of earlier and later writers. Not, as I said 
 before, in copious draughts of their eloquence and 
 what pages of Bacon and Browne it is far easier to bear 
 than forbear ! but where the writer has gone to the 
 heart of a matter, the centre of the circle, hit the nail
 
 348 PREFACE. 
 
 on the head and driven it home Proverb- wise, in fact. 
 For in proportion as any writer tells the truth, and tells 
 it figuratively or poetically, and yet so as to lie in a nut- 
 shell, he cuts up sooner or later into proverbs shorter or 
 longer, and gradually gets down into general circula- 
 tion. 
 
 Some extracts are from note-books, where the author's 
 name was forgot ; some from the conversation of friends 
 that must alike remain anonymous ; and some that 
 glance but lightly at the truth are not without purpose 
 inserted to relieve a book of dogmatic morals. " Durum 
 et durum non faciunt murum." 
 
 And now Mountain opens and discovers
 
 POLONIUS: 
 
 A COLLECTION 
 OF 
 
 WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
 Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, 
 
 And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, 
 
 I WILL BE BRIEF.
 
 POLO3STIUS: 
 
 A COLLECTION OF WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES. 
 
 QUICKNESS OF WIT. 
 
 I MAKE no more estimation of repeating a great num- 
 ber of names or words upon once hearing, or the pour- 
 ing forth of a number of verses or rhymes extempore, 
 or the making of a satirical simile of every thing, or the 
 turning of evert/ thing to a jest, or the falsifying or contra- 
 dicting of every thing by cavil, or the like, (whereof in the 
 faculties of the mind there is great copia, and such as 
 by device and practice may be brought to an extreme 
 degree of wonder,) than I do of the tricks of tumblers, 
 f unambules, baladines the one being the same in the 
 mind that the other is in the body ; matters of strange- 
 ness without worthiness. Bacon. 
 
 '' Quickness is among the least of the mind's proper- 
 ties, and belongs to her in almost her lowest state ; nay, 
 it doth not abandon her when she is driven from her 
 home, when she is wandering and insane. The mad 
 often retain it ; the liar has it ; the cheat has it ; we 
 find it on the race-course and at the card-table: educa- 
 tion does not give it ; and reflection takes away from 
 it."
 
 POLONIUS. 351 
 
 U WHEN THE CUP IS FULLEST LOOK THOU 
 BEAR HER FAIREST." 
 
 POWER to do good is the true and lawful end of 
 aspiring. For good thoughts, though God accept 
 them, yet towards men they are little better than 
 good dreams, except they be put in act; and that 
 cannot be without power and place, as the vantage 
 and commanding ground. Bacon. 
 
 We are all here fellow-servants, and we know not 
 how our Grand Master will brook insolences in his 
 family. How darest them, that art but a piece of earth 
 that Heaven has blown into, presume thyself into the 
 impudent usurpation of a majesty unshaken? 
 
 The top feather of the plume began to give himself 
 airs, and toss his head, and look down contemptuously 
 on his fellows. But one of them said, " Peace ! we are 
 all of us but feathers ; only he that made us a plume 
 was pleased to set thee the highest." 
 
 It is a sure sign of greatness whom honour amends. 
 
 Bacon. 
 
 "THE HIGHER THE APE GOES THE MORE HE 
 SHOWS HIS TAIL." 
 
 DE TE FABULA. 
 
 AN Ass was wishing in a hard winter for a little warm 
 weather, and a mouthful of fresh grass to knab upon,
 
 352 POLONIUS. 
 
 in exchange for a heartless truss of straw, and a cold 
 lodging. In good time, the warm weather and the 
 fresh grass comes on ; but so much toil and business 
 for asses along with it, that this ass grows quickly as 
 weary of the spring as he was of the winter. His next 
 longing is for summer : but what with harvest-work, 
 and other drudgeries of that season, he is worse now 
 than he was in the spring : and so he fancies he never 
 shall be well till autumn comes. But then again, what 
 with carrying apples, grapes, fuel, winter provisions, 
 &c., he finds himself more harassed than ever. In fine, 
 when he has trod the circle of the year in a course of 
 restless labour, his last prayer is for winter again, and 
 that he may but take up his rest where he began his 
 
 Complaint. UEstrange's Fables. 
 
 And follows so the ever-rolling year 
 With profitable labour to his grave. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHEE, 
 
 THE name of "Wise" seems to me, O Phaedrus, a 
 great matter, and to belong to God alone. A man may 
 be more fitly denominated " philosophus," "would be 
 ivise," or some such name. Plato. 
 
 The philosopher stations himself in the middle, and 
 must draw down to him all that is higher, and up to 
 him all that is lower : and only in this medium does he 
 merit the title of Wise. Goethe.
 
 ^ 
 
 POLONIUS. 353 
 
 Plato's Philosopher pursues the true light, yet returns 
 back to his former fellows who dwell in the dark, watch- 
 ing shadows. 
 
 "EVERY OAK MUST BE AN ACORN." 
 
 When the Balloon was first discovered, some one said 
 to Franklin, "What will ever come of it?" Franklin 
 pointed to a baby in its cradle, and said, " And what 
 will ever come of that ? " 
 
 TKOUBLES OF LIFE. 
 
 I AM very sorry for your distresses ; one of which * 
 I think is of the number of the ta i'f ' fy-uv, and may be 
 put an end to at any time. For what is money given 
 for but to make a man easy ? And if others will be 
 iniquitous, there is nothing to be done but to have re- 
 course to the redime te captum qiiam queas minimo: a 
 very good maxim, which we learn in our Grammar, and 
 forget in our lives. The other trouble t is not so easily 
 set aside ; but it has the comfort of necessity, and must 
 be borne whether you will or not, which with wise men 
 is the same thing as choice : for a fool in such a case 
 goes about bellowing, and telling everybody he meets 
 (who do but laugh at him) what a sad calamity has 
 
 * Loss of money. t Sickness.
 
 354 POLONIUS. 
 
 happened to him ; but a man of sense says nothing and 
 submits. This is very wise, you will say ; but it is very 
 
 true. Jeremiah Markland. 
 
 "WHAT CAN'T BE CURED MUST BE ENDURED." 
 " PENNY WISE, POUND FOOLISH." 
 
 The saying of a noble and wise counsellor in Eng- 
 land is worthy to be remembered, that, with a pretty 
 tale he told, utterly condemned such lingering proceed- 
 ings. The tale was this : A poor widow (said he) in 
 the country, doubting her provision of wood would not 
 last all the winter, and yet desiring to roast a joint and 
 a hen one day to welcome her friends, laid on two sticks 
 on the fire ; but when that would scarce heat it, she 
 fetched two more; and so still burning them out by 
 two and two, (whereas one fagot laid on at the first 
 would have roasted it,) she spent four or five fagots 
 more than she needed : and yet when all was done, her 
 meat was scorched of one side, and raw of the t'other 
 side ; her friends ill content of their fare ; and she en- 
 forced, ere winter went about, to borrow wood of her 
 poor neighbours, because so many of her own fagots 
 
 were spent. Sir J. Harrington. 
 
 VALOUR AND MERCY. 
 
 THAT Mercy can dwell only with Valour, is an old 
 sentiment, or proposition, which, in Johnson, again
 
 POLONIUS. 355 
 
 receives confirmation. Few men 011 record have had a 
 more merciful, tenderly affectionate nature, than old 
 Samuel. He was called the Bear, and did indeed too 
 often look and roar like one, being forced to it in his 
 own defence; yet within that shaggy exterior of his 
 there beat a heart warm as a mother's, soft as a little 
 child's. Nay, generally his very roaring was but the 
 anger of affection ; the rage of a bear if you will ; but 
 of a bear bereaved of her whelps. Touch his religion ; 
 glance at the Church of England, or the divine right ; 
 and he was upon you ! These things were his symbols 
 of all that was good and precious for men : his very 
 ark of the covenant ; whoso laid his hand on them tore 
 asunder his heart of hearts. Not out of hatred to the 
 opponent, but of love to the opposed, did Johnson grow 
 cruel, fierce, contradictory : this is an important dis- 
 tinction, never to be forgotten in our censure of his 
 conversational outrages. But observe also with what 
 humanity, what openness of love, he can attach himself 
 to all things to a blind old woman, to a Doctor 
 Levett, to a Cat Hodge " His thoughts in the latter 
 part of his life were frequently employed on his de- 
 ceased [friends ; he often muttered these or such-like 
 words, i Poor man ! and then he died ! ' ' How he 
 patiently converts his poor home into a Lazaretto ; en- 
 dures, for long years, the contradiction of the miserable 
 and unreasonable with him unconnected, save that 
 they had no other to yield them refuge ! Generous old 
 man ! Worldly possessions he has little, yet of this he
 
 356 POLONIUS. 
 
 
 
 gives freely ; from his own hard-earned shilling, the 
 half-pence for the poor, that waited his coming out, are 
 not withheld ; the poor waited the coming out of one 
 not quite so poor ! A Sterne can write sentimentalities 
 on dead asses : Johnson has a rough voice, but he finds 
 the wretched daughter of vice fallen down in the streets, 
 carries her home on his own shoulders, and, like a good 
 Samaritan, gives help to the half -needy, whether worthy 
 
 or unworthy. Carlyle. 
 
 II n'y a que les persounes qui ont de la fermete qui 
 puissent avoir nne veritable douceur : celles qui parois- 
 sent douces ii'ont ordinairement que de la foiblesse qui 
 se convertit aisement en aigreur. Rochefoucauld. 
 
 u It is the best metal that bows best," says Fuller : 
 and " the sweet wine that makes the sharpest vinegar," 
 says an old proverb. 
 
 HONESTY 
 
 DOTH not consist in the doing of one, or one thou- 
 sand, acts never so well, but in the spinning on the 
 delicate thread of life, though not exceeding fine, yet 
 free from breaks and stains. Sidney. 
 
 Of great deeds I make no account ; but a great life I 
 reverence. " Splendida facinora" every sinner may 
 perpetrate.
 
 POLONIUS. 357 
 
 What is to be undergone only once we may undergo : 
 what must be comes almost of its own accord. The 
 courage we desire and prize is, not the courage to die 
 decently, but to live manfully; 
 
 SOWING THE SEED. 
 
 Sicetpeiv ts xapnov Xaprto? 4]8iar/]c; 0s<Lv. 
 
 Two travellers happened to be passing through a 
 town while a great fire was raging. 
 
 One of them sat down at the inn, saying, " It is not 
 my business." But the other ran into the flames, and 
 saved much goods and some people. 
 
 When he came back, his companion asked him, "And 
 who bid thee risk thy life in others' business ? " 
 
 "He," said the brave man, "who bade me bury seed 
 that it may one day bring forth increase." 
 
 " But if thou thyself hadst been buried in the ruins f " 
 
 " Then should I myself have been the seed." 
 
 German. 
 
 " FUN IN THE OLD FIDDLE." 
 
 As Wilhelm, contrary to his usual habit, let his eye 
 wander inquisitively over the room, the good old man 
 said to him, " My domestic equipment excites your at- 
 tention. You see here how long a thing may last ; and 
 one should make such observations, now and then, by 
 way of counterbalance to so much in the world that 
 rapidly changes and passes away. This same tea-kettle
 
 358 POLONIUS. 
 
 served my parents, and was a witness of our evening 
 family assemblages ; this copper fire-screen still guards 
 me from the fire, which these stout old tongs help me 
 to mend ; and so it is with all throughout. I had it in 
 my power to bestow my care and industry on many 
 other things, and I did not occupy myself in the chang- 
 ing these external necessaries, a task which consumes 
 so many people's time and resources. An affectionate 
 attention to what we possess, makes us rich ; for thereby 
 we accumulate a treasure of remembrances connected 
 with indifferent things. In us little men such little 
 things are to be reckoned virtue ." 
 
 Wilhelm Meister. 
 
 And as of family, so of national, monuments "Ce 
 sont les crampons qui unissent une generation a une 
 autre. Conservez ce qu'ont vu vos Peres." jonbert. 
 
 "WISH AND WISH ON." 
 
 Such as the chain of causes we call Fate, such is the 
 chain of wishes; one links on to another; and the 
 whole man is bound in the chain of wishing for ever. 
 
 Seneca. 
 
 Who has many wishes has generally but little will. 
 Who has energy of will has few diverging wishes. 
 Whose will is bent on one, must renounce the wishes 
 for many things. Who cannot do this is not stamped 
 with the majesty of human nature. The energy of 
 choice, the unison of the various powers for one, is
 
 POLONIUS. 359 
 
 only will born under the agonies of self-denial and 
 renounced desires. 
 
 Calmness of will is a sign of grandeur. The vulgar, 
 far from hiding their will, blab their wishes. A single 
 spark of occasion discharges the child of passion into a 
 thousand crackers of desire. Lavater. 
 
 Always let oneness of purpose rule over a boy. He 
 wanted perhaps to have, or to do, some certain thing : 
 oblige him then to take, or do it. Rich to: 
 
 "HUNT MANY HARES AND CATCH NONE." 
 
 " THE EYE SEES ONLY WHAT IT HAS IN ITSELF THE 
 POWER OF SEEING." Goethe. 
 
 To many this will seem a truism, who would think it 
 a paradox should you tell them they saw another tree 
 than the painter did, looking at the same. No wonder 
 then if they see something very different from Goethe 
 in this sentence of his. 
 
 1. We do not see nature by looking at it. We fancy 
 we see the whole of any object that is before us, be- 
 cause we know no more than what we see. The rest 
 escapes us as a matter of course; and we easily con- 
 clude that the idea in our minds and the image in 
 nature are one and the same. But in fact we only see 
 a very small part of nature, and make an imperfect 
 abstraction of the infinite number of particulars which 
 are always to be found in it, as well as we can. Some do
 
 360 POLONIUS. 
 
 this with more or less accuracy than others, according 
 to habit or natural genius. A painter, for instance, 
 who has been working on a face for several days, still 
 finds out something new in it which he did not notice 
 before, and which he endeavours to give in order to 
 make his copy more perfect. A young artist, when he 
 first begins to study from nature, soon makes an end of 
 his sketch, because he sees only a general outline and 
 certain gross distinctions and masses. As he proceeds, 
 a new field opens to him ; differences crowd on differ- 
 ences ; and as his perceptions grow more refined, he 
 could employ whole days in working upon a single part, 
 without satisfying himself at last, Haziut. 
 
 2. So says Bacon, " That is the best part of beauty 
 which a picture cannot express ; no, nor the first sight 
 of life neither. 
 
 " Directly in the face of most intellectual tea-circles, 
 it may be asserted, that no good book, or good thing of 
 any sort, shows its best face at first : nay, that the com- 
 monest quality in a true work of art, if its excellence 
 have any depth and compass, is that at first sight it 
 occasions a certain disappointment perhaps even, 
 mingled with its undeniable beauty, a certain feeling 
 
 Of aversion." Carlyle. 
 
 " Most men are disappointed at first sight of the sea; 
 as also of mountains, which a novice thinks he could 
 soon run up, till his eyes learn to distinguish those 
 
 *> 
 
 tf
 
 POLONIUS. 361 
 
 aerial gradations which soon made themselves under- 
 stood by the feet." 
 
 " The shepherd knows every sheep in his flock : and 
 Pascal tells us, that the more genius a man has, the 
 more he will see of it in other men. Indeed the clear 
 eye will see in every man something of that which com- 
 mon observers are apt to consider the property of a few. 
 If no two sheep nay, it is said, no two leaves are 
 alike, how much less any two men ! " 
 
 QUANTUM SUMUS SCIMUS. 
 
 THE SOLECISM OF POWER. 
 
 THE difficulties in Princes' business are many and 
 great ; but the greatest difficulty is often in their own 
 mind. For it is common with princes, saith Tacitus, to 
 will contradictories ; " sunt plerumque Regum voluntates 
 vehementes, et inter se contraries." For it is the sole- 
 cism of power to think to command the end, and yet not 
 to endure the mean. 
 
 Princes many times make themselves desires, and set 
 their hearts on toys ; sometimes upon a building ; 
 sometimes upon erecting of an order, &c. This seemeth 
 incredible unto those that know not the principle, that 
 the mind of man is more cheered and refreshed by 
 profiting in small things than by standing at a stay in 
 great,
 
 362 POLONIUS. 
 
 FORGIVE AND FORGET. 
 
 " WHEN/' said Descartes, " a man injures me, I strive 
 to lift up my soul so high that his offence cannot reach 
 me." 
 
 It is certain, that a man who studieth revenge, keeps 
 his own wounds green, which would otherwise heal and 
 
 do well. Bacon. 
 
 And finally, 
 
 Without knowing particulars, I take upon me to 
 assure all persons who think that they have received 
 indignities or injurious treatment, that they may depend 
 upon it as in a manner certain, that the offence is not 
 so great as they imagine. Bishop Butler. 
 
 INCONSTANCY. 
 
 LE sentiment de la faussete des plaisirs presents, et 
 1'ignorance de la vanite des plaisirs absents, causent 
 
 1'inCOnstance. Rochefoucauld. 
 
 "THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD ALWAYS LOOKS 
 CLEANEST." 
 
 THE POOR. 
 
 A DECENT provision for the poor is the true test of 
 civilization. Gentlemen of education are pretty much
 
 POLONIUS. 363 
 
 the same in all countries ; the condition of the lower 
 orders, the poor especially, is the true mark of national 
 discrimination. Johnson. 
 
 " How often one hears an English gentleman (as good 
 as any gentleman, however) mourning over the loss, as 
 he calls it, of a hundred or two a year in farming his 
 estate so fine a business for an English gentleman ! ' It 
 won't do it won't pay he must give it up/ &c. Why, 
 what do his fine houses, equipages, gardens, pictures, 
 jewels, dinners, and operas, pay ? ' Oh, but there he 
 has something to show for his money.' And is a popu- 
 lation of honest, healthy, happy English labourers 
 honest, healthy, and happy, because constantly em- 
 ployed by him, with proper wages, and not so much 
 labour exacted of them as to turn a man into a brute 
 is not tins something to show for your money ? as good 
 pictures, jewels, equipage, and music, as a man should 
 desire ? " 
 
 Not, however, to be bought wholly by money 
 wages 
 
 "LOVE IS THE TRUE PRICE OF LOVE." 
 
 Cash payment never was, or could be (except for a 
 few years) the union bond of man to man. Cash never 
 yet paid one man fully his deserts to another ; nor 
 could it, nor can it, now or henceforth to the end of the 
 
 World. Carltjle.
 
 364 POLONIUS. 
 
 On a rock-side in one of Bewick's Vignettes, we see 
 inscribed what should never be erased from any English- 
 man's heart : 
 
 Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, 
 A breath may make them, as a breath has made ; 
 But A BOLD PEASANTRY, their country's pride, 
 When once destroyed can never be supplied. 
 
 Advice well remembered by Sir Walter Scott's Duke of 
 Buccleugh, " one of those retired and high-spirited men 
 who will never be known until the world asks what 
 became of the huge oak that grew on the brow of the 
 hill, and sheltered such an extent of ground." 
 
 THE THREE RACES. 
 
 MACHIAVELLI divides men into three classes : 
 
 1. Those who find truth. 
 
 2. Those who follow what is found. 
 
 3. Those who do neither. And the same distinction 
 is observed in a pack of fox hounds, only that, in their 
 case, the latter class are soundly beaten, and, if incor- 
 rigible, Imng. 
 
 FOUND OUT BY ONE'S SIN. 
 
 WHEN the sinner shall rise from his grave, there shall 
 meet him an uglier figure than ever he beheld deformed 
 hideous of <i filthy smell, and with a horrid voice ;
 
 POLONIUS. 365 
 
 so that he shall call aloud, " God save me ! what art 
 thou?" The shape shall answer, u Why wonderest 
 thou at me f I am but THINE OWN WORKS ; thou didst 
 ride upon me in the other world, and I will ride upon 
 thee for ever here." Jaidi-ud-Din Biimi. 
 
 " TO-MORROW AND TO-MORROW ! " 
 
 The procrastinator is not only indolent and weak, but 
 
 commonly false. Most of the weak are false. 
 
 Lavater, 
 
 " What a quantity, not of time only, but of soul, has 
 been spent in resolving and re-resolving to get up out 
 of bed in a morning." 
 
 "By and by, is easily said" and re-said. 
 
 Do immediately whatever is to be done. When a regi- 
 ment is under march, the rear is often thrown into con- 
 fusion because the front do not move steadily and with- 
 out interruption. It is the same thing with business : 
 if that which is first in hand is not instantly, steadily, 
 and regularly despatched, other things accumulate be- 
 hind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human 
 brain can stand the confusion. sir w. Hcott. 
 
 THE SOURCE OF THE GREAT RIVER. 
 
 IT lias been the plan of Divine Providence, to ground 
 what is good and true in religion and morals on the 
 basis of our good natural feelings. What we are
 
 366 POLONIUS. 
 
 towards our earthly friends in the instincts and wishes 
 of our infancy, such we are to become at length towards 
 God and man in the extended field of our duties as ac- 
 countable beings. To honour our parents is the first 
 step towards honouring God; to love our brethren ac- 
 cording to the flesh, the first step to considering all men 
 our brethren. Hence our Lord says we must become as 
 little children if we would be saved ; we must become 
 in his church as men, what we were once in the small 
 circle of our youthful homes. 
 
 The love of private friends is the only preparatory 
 exercise for the love of others. It is obviously impos- 
 sible to love all men in any strict and true sense. What 
 is meant by loving all men, is to feel well disposed 
 towards all men, to be ready to assist them, and to act 
 towards those who come in our way as if we loved 
 them. We cannot love those about whom we know 
 nothing, except indeed we view them in Christ, as the 
 objects of his atonement ; that is, rather in faith than 
 in love. And love, besides, is a habit, and cannot be 
 attained without actual practice, which on so large a 
 scale is impossible. We see then how absurd it is when 
 writers (as is the manner of some who slight the gos- 
 pel) talk magnificently about loving the whole human 
 race with a comprehensive affection, of being the 
 friends of mankind, and the like-such vaunting profes- 
 sions. What do they come to ? That such men have 
 certain benevolent feelings towards the world, feel- 
 inys, and nothing more nothing more than unstable 
 
 f^L
 
 POLONIUS. 367 
 
 feelings, the mere offspring of an indulged imagination, 
 which exist only when their minds are wrought upon, 
 and are sure to fail them in the hour of need. This is 
 not to love men, but to talk about love. 
 
 The real love of man must depend on practice, and 
 therefore must begin by exercising itself on our friends 
 around us, otherwise it will have no existence. By try- 
 ing to love our relations and friends ; by submitting to 
 their wishes though contrary to our own ; by bearing 
 with their infirmities ; by overcoming their occasional 
 waywardness with kindness ; by dwelling on their ex- 
 cellences, and trying to copy them thus it is that we 
 form in our hearts that root of charity which, though 
 small at first, may, like the mustard seed, at last even 
 overshadow the earth. The vain talkers about philan- 
 thropy, just spoken of, usually show the emptiness of 
 their profession by being morose and cruel in the 
 private relations of life, which they seem to account as 
 subjects beneath their notice. And we know, from the 
 highest of all authority, that one can only learn to love 
 God, whom one has not seen, by loving our brothers 
 
 whom We do See. Xeicman. 
 
 To a lady who endeavoured once to vindicate herself 
 from blame for neglecting social attention to worthy 
 neighbours, by saying, u I would go to them if it would 
 do them any good," Johnson said, " What good do you 
 expect, Madam, to be able to do then f It is showing 
 them respect, and that is doing them good." 
 
 BosicelVs Johnson.
 
 368 POLONIUS. 
 
 The joys and loves of earth the same in heaven will be; 
 Only the little brook has widen'd to a sea. Trench. 
 
 THE WEAK ARE FALSE. 
 " HE SHUTS HIS EYES AND THINKS NONE SEE." 
 
 As the verse noteth, 
 
 " Percontatorem fugito, nam garrulus idem est," 
 
 an inquisitive man is a prattler; so, upon the like 
 reason, a credulous man is a deceiver ; as we see it in 
 fame, that he that will easily believe rumours, will as 
 easily augment rumours, and add somewhat to them 
 of his own : which Tacitus wisely noteth when he saith, 
 " Fingunt simul creduntque." Bacon. 
 
 Quack and dupe are upper-side, and under, of the 
 self-same substance ; convertible personages. Turn up 
 your dupe into the proper fostering element, and he 
 himself can become a quack: there is in him the due 
 prominent insincerity, open voracity to profit, and 
 closed sense to truth ; whereof quacks too, in all their 
 kinds, are made. 
 
 FORMS AND CEREMONIES. 
 
 CEREMONY keeps up all things ; 't is like a penny glass 
 to a rich spirit, or some excellent water ; without it the 
 water would be spilt, the spirit lost.
 
 POLONIUS. 369 
 
 There were some mathematicians that could with one 
 fetch of their pen make an exact circle, and with the 
 next touch point out the centre. Is it therefore reason- 
 able to banish all use of compasses? Set forms are a 
 pair of compasses. 
 
 BUILDING. 
 
 HE that builds a fair house on an ill seat, committeth 
 himself to prison. Neither is it ill air only that maketh 
 an ill seat; but ill ways, ill markets, and, if you will 
 consult with Momus, ill neighbours. Bacon. 
 
 BETTER ONE'S HOUSE BE TOO LITTLE ONE DAY THAN 
 TOO BIG ALL THE YEAR AFTER. 
 
 Isaiah says, "great men build desolate places for 
 themselves ; " which doing, Camden says, was the ruin 
 of good housekeeping in England. Fuller. 
 
 IDLENESS. 
 
 LA paresse, toute languissante qu'elle est, ne laisse 
 pas d'en etre souvent la niaitresse ; elle usurpe sur tons 
 les desseins et sur toutes les actions de la vie ; elle y 
 detruit et y consume insensiblement les passions et les 
 
 VertllS. Rochefoucauld. 
 
 "AN EMPTY SKULL IS THE DEVIL'S WORKSHOP.''
 
 370 POLONIUS. 
 
 As of a man, so of a people. " The unredeemed ugli- 
 ness is that of a slothful people. Show me a people 
 energetically busy heaving, struggling, all shoulders 
 at the wheel; their heart pulsing, every muscle swell- 
 ing with man's energy and will I will show you a 
 people of whom great good is already predicable; to 
 whom all manner of good is certain if their energy 
 
 endure." Carlyle. 
 
 When the master puts a spade into his servant's hand, 
 He speaks his wish by the action, needing no words to 
 
 declare it: 
 
 Thy hand, man, like that spade, is God's signal to thee, 
 And thine own heart's thoughts are the interpretation 
 
 thereof. Mesnavi of Jaldl-ud-Din Rumi. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 HORACE WALPOLE begged of Madame du Deffand not 
 to love or trust him, or any one else ; not to run into 
 enthusiasm of any sort for any thing, &c. " Vos lecons, 
 vos reprimandes," she replies, " out eu plus d'effets que 
 vous n'en esperiez; vous m'avez desabusee de bien de 
 (ihimeres ; voits avez ete parfaitement seconde par la 
 decrepitude je ne cherche plus I'amitie," &c. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE AND HALF-KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE is nothing but a representation of truth 
 for the truth of being and the truth of knowing are
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 371 
 
 one, differing no more than the direct beam and the 
 beam reflected. Bacon. 
 
 Qui respiciunt ad pauca facile pronuntiant. 
 
 Bacon, from Aristotle. 
 
 " The quick decision of one who sees half the truth." 
 
 SELF-CONTEMPLATION. 
 
 FINALLY, we have read in these three thick volumes of 
 letters * till, in the second thick volume, the reading 
 faculty unhappily broke down, and had to skip largely 
 thenceforth, only diving here and there at a venture, 
 with considerable intervals ! Such is the melancholy 
 fact. It must be urged in defence that these volumes 
 are of the toughest reading ; calculated, as we said, for 
 Germany, rather than for England or us. To be writ- 
 ten with such indisputable marks of ability, nay, of 
 genius, of depth and sincerity, they are the heaviest 
 business we perhaps ever met with. They are subjective 
 letters : what the metaphysicians call subjective, not 
 objective : the grand material of them is endless depic- 
 turing of moods, sensations, miseries, joys, and lyrical 
 conditions of the writer ; no definite picture drawn, or 
 rarely any, of persons, transactions, or events, which the 
 writer stood amidst a wrong material, as it seems to us. 
 To what end ? To what end f we always ask. Not by 
 looking at itself, but by looking at things out of itself, 
 
 * Kakel Von Ense's Memoirs.
 
 372 POLONIUS. 
 
 and ascertaining and ruling these, shall the mind become 
 known. " One thing above all other," says Goethe, " I 
 have never thought about thinking." What a thrift of 
 thinking faculty there almost equal to a fortune in 
 these days "habe nie das Denken gedacht!" But 
 how much wastefuller still it is to feel about feeling ! 
 One is wearied of that ; the -healthy soul avoids that. 
 Thou shalt look outward, not inward. Grazing inward 
 on one's own self why, this can drive one mad, like 
 the monks of Athos, if it last too long. Unprofitable 
 writing this subjective sort does seem ; at all events, to 
 the present reviewer no reading is so insupportable. 
 Nay, we ask, might not the world be entirely deluged 
 by it, unless prohibited ? Every mortal is a microcosm ; 
 to himself a macrocosm, or universe large as nature ; 
 universal nature would barely hold what he could say 
 about himself. Not a dyspeptic tailor on any shop- 
 board of this city but could furnish all England, the 
 year through, with reading about himself, about his 
 emotions, and internal mysteries of woe and sensibility, 
 if England would read him. It is a course which leads 
 no whither ; a course which should be avoided. 
 
 Carlylc. 
 
 DIVES 
 
 HAD a great swamp bequeathed him. He drained, 
 and planted, and stocked it with fish-ponds and game 
 preserves, and enclosed it carefully, so that he might 
 have his pleasure there alone.
 
 w 
 
 POLONIUS. 373 
 
 One day he was showing it to an aged friend, who 
 admired it much, but said it wanted one thing hugely. 
 
 Dives asked, " What ? " 
 
 " Know you not," replied his friend, " that when God 
 Almighty planted Eden, it was for the sake of putting 
 man therein ! " 
 
 "IT TAKES A LONG TIME TO PEEL THE WORLD'S 
 PULSE." 
 
 Such is the complication of human destinies, that the 
 same cruelties which stained the conquest of the two 
 Americas have been renewed under our eyes, in times 
 which we believed characterized by a prodigious pro- 
 gress of civilization, and a general mildness of manners : 
 and yet one man, scarcely in the middle of his career, 
 might have seen the reign of terror in France, the in- 
 human expedition to St. Domingo, the political reac- 
 tions and the civil wars of continental Europe and 
 America, the massacres of Chios and Ipsara, the recent 
 acts of atrocity in America, its abominable slave-legis- 
 lation, &c. In the two epochs regrets have followed 
 public calamities ; but in our times, of which I have 
 traced the gloomy remembrance, still more unanimous 
 regrets have been more loudly manifested. Philosophy, 
 without obtaining victory, has started in defence. The 
 modern tendency is, to seek freedom by laws, order by 
 the perfecting of institutions. This is like a new and 
 salutary element of the social order ; an element which
 
 374 POLONIUS. 
 
 acts slowly, but which will make the return of sanguin- 
 ary commotions less frequent and more difficult. 
 
 Hiimboldt, Ex. Cr. 
 
 TASTE, 
 
 IF it means anything but a paltry cormoisseurship, 
 must mean a general susceptibility to truth and noble- 
 ness ; a sense to discern, and a heart to love and rever- 
 ence all beauty, order, goodness, wheresoever or in 
 whatsoever forms and accompaniments they are to be 
 
 Seen. Carlyle. 
 
 u Taste is the feminine of genius." 
 
 THE NEW CHIVALRY. 
 
 Two boys were playing at chess. A knight was 
 broken, so they put a pawn to serve in his stead. 
 
 " Ha ! " cried the kiiight to the pawn, " whence come 
 you, Sir Snail-pace ? " 
 
 But the boy said to him, " Peace ! he does the same 
 
 Service as yOU ! " German. 
 
 WEAKNESS AND VIGOUR OF MIND. 
 
 LA foiblesse est le seul defaut qu'on ne sauroit cor- 
 nger. RocJiefoucauld.
 
 POLONIUS. 375 
 
 Difficult as it is to subdue the more violent passions, 
 yet I believe it to be still more difficult to overcome a 
 tendency to sloth, cowardice, and despondency. These 
 evil dispositions cling about a man and weigh him down. 
 They are minute chains binding him on every side to 
 the earth, so that he cannot even turn himself to make 
 an effort to rise. It would seem as if right principles 
 had yet to be planted in the indolent mind ; whereas 
 violent and obstinate tempers had already something of 
 the nature of firmness and zeal in them ; or rather, what 
 will become so with care, exercise, and God's blessing. 
 Besides, the events of life have a powerful influence in 
 sobering the ardent or self-confident temper ; disap- 
 pointments, pain, anxiety, advancing years, bring with 
 them some natural wisdom, as a matter of course. On 
 the other hand, these same circumstances do but exer- 
 cise the defects of the timid and irresolute, who are 
 made more indolent, selfish, and faint-hearted by ad- 
 vancing years, and find a sort of satisfaction of their 
 unworthy caution in their experience of the vicissi- 
 tudes of life. Xeivman. 
 
 *' YOU CAN'T HANG SOFT CHEESE ON A HOOK," 
 " NOR DRIVE A NAIL OF WAX." 
 
 CONTENT. 
 
 THE fountain of content must spring up in the mind; 
 and he who has so little knowledge of human nature as
 
 376 POLONIUS. 
 
 to seek happiness by changing any thing but his own 
 disposition, will waste his life in fruitless efforts, and 
 multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 CCELUM NON ANIMUM MUTANT QUI TRANS MARE 
 CURRUNT. 
 
 Contentment, says Fuller, consisteth not in heaping 
 more fuel, but in taking away some fire. 
 
 CONVEESATION. 
 
 COBBETT used to say that people never should sit 
 talking till they didn't know what to talk about. 
 
 HE WAS SCANT O' NEWS WHA TAULD 
 HIS FATHER WAS HANGED. 
 
 THE EULER, 
 
 WHATEVER the world may think, he who hath not 
 meditated much on God, the human mind, and the 
 summum bonum, may possibly make a thriving earth- 
 worm, but will most indubitably make a sorry patriot 
 and a sorry statesman. Berkeley. 
 
 No man ignorant of history can govern. Neither can 
 the experience of one man's life furnish example and 
 precedents for the events of one man's life. For as it
 
 POLONIUS. 377 
 
 happeneth sometimes that the grandchild, or the de- 
 scendant, resembleth the ancestor more than the son ; 
 so many times occurrences of the present times may 
 sort better with ancient examples than with those of 
 the later or immediate times. And lastly, the wit of 
 one man can no more countervail learning than one 
 man's means can hold way with a common purse. 
 
 In the discharge of thy place, set before thee the best 
 examples; for imitation is a globe of precepts: and, 
 after a time, set before thee thine own example ; and 
 examine thyself strictly whether thou didst best at first. 
 
 Bacon. 
 
 SNOB AND GENTLEMAN. 
 
 THE Fraction asked himself, " How will this look at 
 Almack's and before Lord Mahogany'?'' The perfect 
 man asked himself, "How will this look in the Uni- 
 verse, and before the Creator of man ? " 
 
 Thi "Fraction" appears to be, in other words, "A 
 SNOB," whom Thackeray has denned to be " one who 
 meanly admires mean things." 
 
 If a man faithfully follows this advice of Sir Thomas 
 Browne, he can never hope to be a snob: "Be thou 
 substantially great in thyself, and greater than thou 
 appearest unto others ; and let the world be deceived 
 in thee as it is in the light of heaven."
 
 378 POLONIUS. 
 
 It has been said that in all Voltaire's seventy or 
 eighty volumes there is not one great thought one, 
 for instance, like that of Sir Thomas's above, 
 
 "PLAIN LIVING AND HIGH THINKING." 
 
 Oh, friend, I know not which way I must look 
 
 For comfort, being, as I am, opprest 
 
 To think that now our life is only drest 
 For show mere handywork of craftsman, cook, 
 Or groom ! we must run glittering like a brook 
 
 In the open sunshine, or we are unblest ; 
 
 The wealthiest man among us is the best : 
 No grandeur now in nature or in book 
 
 Delights us rapine, avarice, expense, 
 This is idolatry, and these we adore ; 
 PLAIN LIVING AND HIGH THINKING ARE NO MORE ! 
 
 The homely beauty of the good old cause 
 Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence, 
 And pure religion breathing household laws. 
 
 Si ad naturam vives nunquam eris pauper: si ad 
 opinionem nunquam dives. Epicurus. 
 
 WOEDS THE SHADOWS OF DEEDS. 
 
 THERE is in Seneca's 114th Epistle a very remarkable 
 passage about the fashion of speech at Rome in his day, 
 which is unconsciously ,but quite substantially, thus trans- 
 lated : " No man in this fashionable London of yours," 
 friend Sauerteig would say, " speaks a plain word to
 
 POLONIUS. 379 
 
 me. Every man feels bound to be something more 
 than plain : to be pungent withal, witty, ornamental. 
 His poor fraction of sense has to be perked up into 
 some epigrammatic shape, that it may prick into me ; 
 perhaps (this is the commonest) to be topsy-turvied, 
 left standing on its head, that I may remember it the 
 better. Such grinning insincerity is very sad to the 
 soul of man. A fashionable wit, ' ach Himmel ! ' if you 
 will ask which, he or a death's head, will be the cheerier 
 company for me, pray send not him." 
 
 Insincere speech, truly, is the prime material of in- 
 sincere action. Action, as it were, hangs dissolved in 
 speech in thought, whereof speech is the shadow ; 
 and precipitates itself therefrom. 
 
 Ubicunque videris orationem corruptam placere, ibi 
 mores quoque a recto descivisse non erit dubium. 
 
 Seneca. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE OPINION IGNOEANCE. 
 
 PERFECT ignorance is quiet perfect knowledge is 
 quiet not so the transition from the former to the 
 
 latter. Carlyle. 
 
 Les sciences ont deux extremites qui se touchent ; la 
 premiere est la pure ignorance naturelle ou se trouvent 
 tous les homines en naissant. L'autre extremite est 
 celle ou arrivent les grandes ames, qui, ayant parcouru 
 tout ce que les homines peuvent savoir, trouvent qu'ils
 
 380 POLONIUS, 
 
 ne savent rien, et se rencontrent dans cette meme igno- 
 rance d'oii ils etoient partis. Mais c'est une ignorance 
 savante qui se connait. 
 
 When Newton was dying, he said he felt just like a 
 little child who had picked up a few pebbles on the 
 shore, while the great ocean lay undiscovered before 
 him. 
 
 Opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 PEGASUS IN HARNESS. 
 
 MEN of great parts are often unfortunate in the man- 
 agement of public business, because they are apt to go 
 out of the common road by the quickness of their 
 imagination. This I once said to my Lord Boling- 
 broke, and desired he would observe that the clerks in 
 his office used a sort of ivory knife with a blunt edge to 
 divide a sheet of paper, which never failed to cut it 
 even, only requiring a strong hand. Whereas if they 
 should make use of a pen-knife, the sharpness would 
 make it go often out of the crease, and disfigure the 
 paper. sidft. 
 
 A man had a plain strong-bow with which he could 
 shoot far and true. He loved his bow so well that he 
 would needs have it curiously carved by a cunning 
 workman. 
 
 It was done ; and at the first trial, the bow snapt. , 
 
 German.
 
 POLONIUS. 381 
 
 TRAVEL. 
 
 FOOL, why journeyest thou wearisomely in thy anti- 
 quarian fervour to gaze on the stone pyramids of Geeza, 
 or the clay ones of Sacchara? These stand there, as 
 I can tell thee, idle and inert, looking over the desert 
 foolishly enough, for the last three thousand years. 
 But canst thou not open thy Hebrew Bible, then, or 
 even Luther's version thereof ! 
 
 Once it was, u Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look 
 you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable the benefits of 
 your own country be out of love with your nativity, 
 and almost chide God for making you that countenance 
 you are ; or I will scarce think you have swum in a 
 gondola." 
 
 We may now add " You must swear by Allah, 
 smoke chibouques, and spell Pasha differently from 
 every predecessor, or we shall scarce believe you have 
 been in a hareem ! " 
 
 " NEVER WENT OUT ASS, AND CAME HOME HORSE." 
 
 Still, " A good traveller," says Shakspeare, " is some- 
 thing at the latter end of a dinner." 
 
 If the golden age is passed, it was not genuine. Gold 
 cannot rust nor decay ; it comes out of all admixtures, 
 and all decompositions, pure and indestructible. If the
 
 382 POLONIUS. 
 
 golden age will not endure, it had better never arise : 
 for it can produce nothing but elegies on its loss. 
 
 A. W. Schlegel. 
 
 It is the weak only who, at each epoch, believe man- 
 kind arrive at the culminant point of their progressive 
 march. They forget that by an intimate concatenation 
 of all truths, knowledge, the field to be run over, be- 
 comes more vast the more we advance ; bordered as it 
 is by an horizon that continually recedes before us. 
 
 Humboldt. 
 
 Multi pertransibunt, et augebitur scientia. 
 
 FAUST 
 
 Is a man who has quitted the ways of vulgar men 
 without light to guide him a better way. No longer 
 restricted by the sympathies, the common interests, and 
 common persuasions, by which the mass of mortals, 
 each individually ignorant, nay, it may be, stolid, and 
 altogether blind as to the proper aim of life, are yet 
 held together, and like stones in the channel of a tor- 
 rent, by their very multitude and mutual collisions are 
 made to move with some regularity, he is still but a 
 slave; the slave of impulses which are stronger, not 
 truer or better, and the more unsafe that they are 
 
 Solitary. Carlyle.
 
 POLONIUS. 383 
 
 So it is with that soul who had built herself a lordly 
 pleasure-house wherein to dwell alone. For three years 
 she throve in it 
 
 Like Herod when the shout was in his ears, 
 Struck through with pangs of hell. 
 
 A spot of dull stagnation, without light 
 Or power of movement, seem'd my soul, 
 
 Mid downward sloping motions infinite, 
 Making for one sure goal. 
 
 A still salt pool, lock'd in with bars of sand, 
 Left on the shore, that hears all night 
 
 The plunging seas draw backward from the land 
 Their moon-led waters white. 
 
 Remaining utterly confused with fears, 
 
 And ever worse with growing time, 
 And ever unrelieved by dismal tears, 
 
 And all alone in crime. Tennyson. 
 
 " NETHER BARREL BETTER HERRING." 
 
 SEE how in the fanning of this wheat, the fullest and 
 greatest grains lie ever the lowest ; and the lightest take 
 up the highest place. Leiyhton. 
 
 Voltaire is always found at top less by strength in 
 swimming, than by lightness in floating. 
 
 "HOW WE APPLES SWIM!"
 
 384 POLONIUS. 
 
 WEIGHT AND WORTH. 
 
 AN old rusty iron chest in a banker's shop, strongly 
 locked and wonderfully heavy, is full of gold. This is 
 the general opinion ; neither can it be disproved, pro- 
 vided the key be lost, and what is in it be wedged so 
 close that it will not, by any motion, discover the metal 
 by clinking. Swift. 
 
 Lady H. Stanhope records that Pitt had more faith 
 in a man who jested easily, than in one who spoke and 
 looked grave and weighty ; for the first moved by some 
 spring of his own within, but the latter might be only 
 a buckram cover well stuffed with other's wisdom. 
 
 Coleridge used to relate how he formed a great notion 
 of the understanding of a solid-looking man, who sat 
 during the dinner silent, and seemingly attentive to his 
 discourse. Till suddenly, some baked potatoes being 
 brought to table, Coleridge's disciple burst out, "Them's 
 the jockeys for me ! " 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MOEEOW. 
 
 IT is no very good symptom either of nations or indi- 
 viduals, that they deal much in vaticination. Happy 
 men are full of the present, for its bounty suffices 
 them : and wise men also, for its duties engage them. 
 Our grand business undoubtedly is not to see what lies 
 dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.
 
 POLONIUS. 385 
 
 Knowest tliou YESTERDAY, its aim and reason ? 
 
 Workest thou well TO-DAY for worthy things ? 
 Then calmly wait TO-MORROW'S hidden season, 
 
 And fear not thou what hap soe'er it brings. 
 
 Courage, brother ! Get honest, and times will mend. 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 GUILELESSNESS. 
 
 IN spite of all that grovelling minds may say about 
 the necessity of acquaintance with the world and with 
 sin, in order to get on well in life, yet, after all, inex- 
 perienced guilelessness carries a man on as safely and 
 more happily. The guileless man has a simple boldness 
 and a princely heart; he overcomes dangers which 
 others shrink from, merely because they are no dangers 
 to him ; and thus he often gains even worldly advan- 
 tages by his straightforwardness, which the most crafty 
 persons cannot gain. It is true -such single-hearted men 
 often get into difficulties, but they usually get out of 
 them as easily ; and are almost unconscious both of 
 their danger and their escape. Newman. 
 
 The same writer notices also the general peace and 
 serenity such persons enjoy, who suspect nobody and 
 nothing ; who live in no fear of their own plots failing, 
 counterplots crossing, and equivocations detecting each 
 other.
 
 386 POLONIUS. 
 
 " We may not be able to change our natures from 
 crooked to straight : but in a few minutes or hours we 
 shall be called on to speak or to act let us determine 
 to do either, for once at least, truly, and honestly, and 
 guilelessly." 
 
 ATHEISM. 
 
 DIDEROT'S Atheism comes, if not to much, yet to 
 something ; we learn this from it, (and from what it 
 stands connected with, and may represent for us,) that 
 the mechanical system of thought is, in its essence, 
 atheistic ; that whosoever will admit no organ of truth 
 bat logic, and nothing to exist but what can be argued 
 of, must even content himself with this sad result, as 
 the only solid one he can arrive at ; and so, with the 
 best grace he can, of the asther make a gas, of God a 
 force, of the second world a coffin, of man an aimless 
 nondescript, little better than a kind of vermin. If 
 Diderot, by bringing matters to this parting of the 
 roads, have enabled or helped us to strike into the truer 
 and better road, let him have our thanks for it. As to 
 what remains, be pity our only feeling: was not his 
 creed miserable enough nay, moreover, did not he 
 bear its miserableness, so to speak, in our stead, so 
 that it need now be no longer borne by any one ? 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 "ANTICHRIST ALSO BEARS OUR CROSS FOR us."
 
 POLONIUS. 387 
 
 " Ludovicus Vives has a story of a clown that killed 
 his ass because it had drunk up the moon, and he 
 thought the world could ill spare that luminary. So he 
 killed his ass ' ut lunam redderet.' Poor ass ! ' He has 
 drunk not the moon; but only the reflection of the 
 moon in his own poor water-pail.' " 
 
 Tinkler Ducket was convicted of atheism at Cam- 
 bridge, and brought up to receive sentence of expulsion 
 before eight heads of colleges. An atheist was a rare 
 bird in those days. Bentley, then almost eighty years 
 old, came into the room, (he was one of the caput, I 
 suppose,) and, being almost blind, called out, " Where's 
 the Atheist?" Ducket was pointed out to him a 
 little thin man. "What! is that the Atheist?" cries 
 Bentley, "I expected to have seen a man as big as Bur- 
 rough the beadle ! " * 
 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 IT is a man's own fault it is from want of use if 
 his mind grows torpid in old age. Johnson. 
 
 "A man should keep always learning something 
 always, as Arnold said, keep the stream running 
 whereas most people let it stagnate about middle life." 
 
 Goethe is a great instance of a mind growing, growing, 
 and putting out fresh leaves up to eighty years of life. 
 
 * Oiie of the three Esquire Bedells of that day, celebrated as, 
 " Pinguia tergeminorum abdomiua Bedellomm."
 
 388 POLONIUS. 
 
 GUILE. 
 
 " IN looking over my books some years ago, I found 
 the following memorandum : ' I am this day thirty 
 years old, and till this day I know not that I have met 
 with one person of that age, except in my father's 
 house, who did not use Guile, more or less.' " 
 
 John Wesley. 
 
 " ENOUGH IS A FEAST." 
 
 A MAN came home from the sea-side, and brought 
 some shells for his little son. The boy was full of 
 wonder and delight : he counted and sorted them over 
 and over again. What a wonderful place must the sea- 
 shore be ! , 
 
 So one day his father took him to the sea-shore. The 
 boy picked up shell after shell, each seeming fairer 
 than the last; threw down one in order to carry another; 
 till growing vexed with himself and the shells, he threw 
 all away, and when he got home, also threw away those 
 his father had given him before. German. 
 
 WIT. 
 
 DISEUR DE BONS MOTS MAUVA1S CARACTERE. Pascal. 
 
 PERHAPS he (Schiller) was too honest, too sincere, for 
 the exercise of Wit ; too intent on the deeper relation
 
 POLONIUS. 389 
 
 of things to note their more transient collisions. 
 Besides, he dealt in affirmation, and not in negation : 
 in which last, it has been said, the material of Wit 
 
 Chiefly lies. Carlyle. 
 
 A CHAPTER FEOM LAVATEE. 
 
 "FACE TO PACE TRUTH COMES OUT APACE." 
 (If you have but an eye to find it by.) 
 
 THE more uniform a man's step, voice, manner of 
 conversation, handwriting the more quiet and uni- 
 form his actions and character. 
 
 Vociferation and calmness of character seldom meet 
 in the same person. 
 
 (So thought Bacon, who desires a counsellor to 
 adopt " a stedfast countenance, not wavering with 
 action as in moving the head or hand too much, 
 which showeth a fantastical light and fickle operation 
 of the spirit; and consequently, like mind, like ges- 
 ture," &c.) 
 
 Who writes an illegible hand is commonly rapid, 
 often impetuous in his judgments. 
 
 Who interrupts often is inconstant and insincere. 
 
 The side-glance, dismayed when observed, seeks to 
 insnare. 
 
 He who has a daring eye tells downright truths, and 
 downright falsehoods.
 
 390 POLONIUS. 
 
 Softness of smile indicates softness of character. An 
 old proverb says, " A smiling boy is a bad servant." 
 The horse-laugh indicates brutality. 
 
 LEARNING. 
 
 IT is an assured truth which is contained in the 
 
 verses, 
 
 Scilicet ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes 
 Emollit mores, nee sinit esse feros. 
 
 It taketh away the wildness, and barbarism, and 
 fierceness of men's minds 5 but indeed the accent had 
 need be laid upon fideliter : for a little superficial learn- 
 ing doth rather work a contrary effect. It taketh away 
 all levity, temerity, and insolency, by copious sugges- 
 tions of all doubts and difficulties, and acquainting the 
 mind to balance reasons on both sides, and to turn 
 back the first offers and conceits of the mind, and to 
 accept of nothing but what is examined and tried. It 
 taketh away all vain admiration of any thing, which is 
 the root of all weakness; for all things are admired 
 because they are new, or because they are great. For 
 novelty, no man that wadeth in learning or contempla- 
 tion thoroughly, but will find that printed in his heart 
 Nil novi super terrain. Neither can any man marvel 
 at the play of puppets, that goeth behind the curtain, 
 and adviseth well of the motion. And for magnitude,
 
 POLONIUS. 391 
 
 as Alexander the Great, after he was used to great 
 armies, and the great conquests of the spacious prov- 
 inces in Asia, when he received letters out of Greece of 
 some fights and services there, which were commonly 
 for a passage, or a fort, or some walled town at most, 
 he said, " It seemed to him that he was advertised of 
 the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, that the old tales 
 went of j " so certainly, if a man meditate upon the 
 universal frame of nature, the Earth, with men upon it, 
 (the divineness of souls excepted,) will not serve much 
 other than an ant-hill, where some ants carry corn, and 
 some carry their young, and some go empty, and all to 
 and fro a little heap of dust. It taketh away or miti- 
 gateth fear of death, or adverse fortune ; which is one 
 of the greatest impediments of virtue, and imperfec- 
 tions of manners. For if a man's mind be deeply 
 seasoned with the consideration of the mortality and cor- 
 ruptible nature of things, he will easily concur with 
 Epictetus, who went forth one day, and saw a woman 
 weeping for her pitcher of earth that was broken ; and 
 went forth the next day, and saw a woman weeping for 
 her son that was dead ; and therefore said, " Heri vidi 
 fragilem fraugi ; hodie vidi mortalem mori." And 
 therefore did Virgil excellently and profoundly couple 
 the knowledge of causes and the conquest of all fears 
 together as concomitantia : 
 
 Felix qui potuit rerum coguoscere causas, 
 Quique metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum, 
 Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.
 
 392 POLONIUS. 
 
 I will conclude with that which hath rationem totiws; 
 which is that it disposeth the constitution of the mind 
 not to be fixed or settled in the defects thereof, but still 
 to be capable and susceptible of growth and reforma- 
 tion. For the unlearned man knows not what it is to 
 descend into himself, or to call himself to account ; nor 
 the pleasure of that " suavissima vita, indies sentire se 
 fieri meUorem." The good parts he hath he will learn 
 to show to the full, and use them dexterously, but not 
 much to increase them; the faults he hath, he will 
 learn how to hide and colour them, but not much to 
 amend them : like an ill mower, that mows on still, and 
 never whets his scythe. Whereas with the learned man 
 it fares otherwise, that he doth ever intermix the cor- 
 rection and amendment of his mind with the use and 
 employment thereof. Nay, further, in general and in 
 sum, certain it is that Veritas and Bonitas differ but as 
 the seal and print ; for Truth prints Goodness ; and 
 they be the clouds of error, which descend in the 
 storms of passions and perturbations. 
 
 Bacon's Advancement. 
 
 He a scholar! No, a Witling can't be a scholar. 
 Knowledge is a great calmer of people's minds. 
 
 Wilson. 
 
 MIMICEY. 
 
 " TELL me of any animal I cannot imitate/' said the Ape. 
 "And tell me," answered the Fox, "of any animal 
 that will imitate you." German.
 
 POLONIUS. 393 
 
 WILL AND REASON. 
 "NONE so BLIND AS THOSE THAT WON'T SEE." 
 
 BAXTER was credulous and incredulous for precisely 
 the same reason. Possessing by habit a mastery over 
 his thoughts such as few men ever acquired, a single 
 effort of the will was sufficient to exclude from his view 
 whatever he judged hostile to his immediate purpose. 
 Every prejudice was at once banished, when any de- 
 batable point was to be scrutinised, and with equal 
 facility every reasonable doubt was exiled when his 
 only object was to enforce or to illustrate a doctrine of 
 
 the truth of which he Was assured. Edinburgh Review. 
 
 So says Pascal, who was a good instance of his own 
 theory. " La volonte est un des priucipaux organes de 
 la croyance : non qu'elle forme la croyance j mais par ce 
 que les choses paroissent vraies ou fausses, selon la face 
 par on on les regarde. La volonte, qui se plaist a 1'ime 
 plus qu'a Fautre, detourne 1'esprit de considerer les qnali- 
 tes de celle qu'elle n'aime pas ; et ainsi 1'esprit marchant 
 d'une piece avec la volonte, s'arrete a regarder la face 
 qu'elle aime ; et jugeant par ce qu'il y voit, regie insensi- 
 blement sa croyance suivant l'inclination de la volonte." 
 
 " Happy," continues the Edinburgh Review, " happy 
 they, who, like Baxter, have so disciplined their affec- 
 tions as to disarm their temporary usurpation of all its 
 more dangerous tendencies." 
 
 HE THAT'S CONVINCED AGAINST HIS WILL, 
 IS OF THE SAME OPINION STILL.
 
 394 POLONIUS. 
 
 POVERTY. 
 
 "THE GOAT MUST BROWSE WHERE SHE is TIED." 
 
 POVERTY, we may say, surrounds a man with ready- 
 made barriers, which, if they do mournfully gall and 
 hamper, do at least prescribe for him, and force on him, 
 a sort of course and goal ; a safe and beaten, though a 
 circuitous course. A great part of his guidance is se- 
 cure against fatal error, is withdrawn from his control. 
 The rich, again, has his whole life to guide, without 
 goal or barrier, save of his own choosing; and tempted, 
 as we have seen, is too likely to guide it ill. cariyie. 
 
 I cannot but say to Poverty, " Welcome ! so thou 
 come not too late in life." 
 
 CONVERSATION AND TALK. 
 
 To make a good Converser, good taste, extensive in- 
 formation, and accomplishments are the chief requisites : 
 to which may be added an easy and elegant delivery 
 and a well-toned voice. I think the higher order of 
 genius is not favourable to this talent. sir w. Scott. 
 
 It is a common remark, that men talk most who 
 think least; just as frogs cease their quacking when a 
 light is brought to the water-side. mcnter. 
 
 " THE EMPTY CASK SOUNDS MOST."
 
 POLONIUS. 395 
 
 NATIVE AIE. 
 
 CHILDREN educated abroad return home to a strange 
 country, not able to mark the places where they found 
 the first bird's nest, the burn where they caught the first 
 trout, or any of those dear associations of childhood 
 that bind us to our native soil by ties as small and 
 numerous as those by which the Lilliputians bound 
 Gulliver to the earth. Mrs. Grant. 
 
 HOMO SUM; HUMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENUM PUTO. 
 
 The sentence which, when first spoken in the Roman 
 theatre, made it ring with applause. Trite as it is, we 
 can scarce come upon it now without the whole heart 
 rising to welcome it. 
 
 No character, we may affirm, was ever rightly under- 
 stood till it had been first regarded with a certain feel- 
 ing, not of toleration only, but of sympathy. cariyic. 
 
 Lavater says, " He who begins with severity in judg- 
 ing of another commonly ends with falsehood." But 
 what did he begin with f 
 
 " It is only necessary to grow old," said Goethe, " to 
 become more indulgent. I see no fault committed that 
 I have not myself inclined to."
 
 396 POLONIUS. 
 
 POETKY. 
 
 " MILTON is very fine, I dare say/' said the mathema- 
 tician, "but what does he prove ? " What, indeed, does 
 Poetry prove ? 
 
 " It doth raise and erect the mind," says Bacon, " by 
 submitting the shows of things to the desires of the 
 mind, whereas Reason doth buckle and bow the mind 
 unto the nature of things." 
 
 But Sir Philip Sidney says, the poet shows the " na- 
 ture of things " as much as the reasoner, though he may 
 not "buckle and bow the mind" to it: "He doth not 
 only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into 
 the way as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, 
 he doth as if your journey should lie through a fair 
 vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes, 
 that full of that taste you may long to pass further. 
 
 " Some have thought the proper object of Poetry was, 
 to please; others that it was, to instruct. Perhaps we 
 are well instructed if we are well pleased." 
 
 "POETRY ENRICHES THE BLOOD OF THE WORLD." 
 
 VAIN-GLOEY. 
 
 THEY that are glorious must needs be factious ; for 
 all bravery stands upon comparisons. They must needs 
 be violent to make good their own vaunts ; neither can
 
 POLONIUS. 397 
 
 they be secret, and therefore effectual ; but according 
 to the French proverb, 
 
 BEAUCOUP DE BRUIT 
 
 PEU DE FRUIT. Bacon. 
 
 Bacon may be talking of the vain-glory of an Alcibi- 
 ades, troublesome to states ; but so it is through all 
 societies of men, from parliaments to tea-tables; for 
 " Vanity is of a divisive, not of an uniting, nature." 
 
 MAY escape, but he cannot rest sure of doing so. 
 
 Epicurus. 
 " RIVEN BREEKS SIT STILL." 
 
 LIBEETY. WHAT IS IT? 
 U HE IS WISE WHO FOLLOWS THE WISE." 
 
 LIBERTY f The true liberty of a man, you would say, 
 consisted in his finding out, or being forced to find out, 
 the right path, and to walk thereon. To learn, or to be 
 taught, what work he actually was able for : and then 
 by permission, persuasion, or even compulsion, to set
 
 398 POLONI.US. 
 
 about doing of the same ? That is his true blessedness, 
 honour, liberty, and maximum of well-being : if liberty 
 be not that, I, for one, have small care about liberty. 
 You do not allow a palpable madman to leap over pre- 
 cipices : you violate his liberty, you that are wise ; and 
 keep him in strait- waistcoats away from the precipices ! 
 Every stupid, every cowardly and foolish man is but a 
 less palpable madman : his true liberty were that a wise 
 man, that any man, and every wiser man, could, by brass 
 collars, or in whatever sharper or milder way, lay hold 
 of him when he was going wrong, and order and com- 
 pel him to go a little lighter. Oh, if thou really art my 
 Senior, Seigneur, my elder, presbyter, or priest if 
 thou art in very deed my wiser may a beneficent in- 
 stinct lead and impel thee to conquer me, to command 
 me ! If thou do know better than I what is good and 
 right, I conjure thee in the name of God, force me to 
 do it ; were it by never such brass collars, whips, and 
 handcuffs, leave me not to walk over precipices ! That 
 I have been called by all the newspapers a " free-man " 
 will avail me little if my pilgrimage have ended in 
 death and wreck. Oh that the newspapers had called 
 me coward, slave, fool, or what it pleased their sweet 
 voices to name me, and I had attained not death, but 
 life ! Liberty requires new definitions. 
 
 Carlyle's Past and Present. 
 
 Plato taught the haughty Athenians they could only 
 be free by liberating themselves from their own pas-
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 399 
 
 sious : and so Milton sings at the end of Comus> A 
 later poet, however, says : 
 
 " Thou canst not choose but serve ; man's lot is servitude : 
 But thou hast thus much choice a bad lord, or a good." 
 
 " There is a service that is perfect freedom." 
 
 SOCRATIS PATERNOSTER. 
 
 WHEN Socrates and Phaedrus have discoursed away 
 the noon-day heat under that plane tree by the Ilissus, 
 they rise to depart toward the city. But Socrates 
 (pointing perhaps to some images of Pan and other 
 sylvan deities) says it is not decent to leave their haunts 
 without praying to them. And he prays : 
 
 O auspicious Pan, and ye other deities of this place, 
 grant to me to become beautiful inwardly, and that 
 all my outward goods may prosper my inner soul. 
 Grant that I may esteem wisdom the only riches, and 
 that I may have so much gold as temperance can hand- 
 somely carry. 
 
 Have we yet aught else to pray for, Phaedrus ? For 
 myself I seem to have prayed enough. 
 
 Phcedrtts. Pray as much for me also ; for friends have 
 all in common. 
 
 Socrates. Even so be it. Let us depart.
 
 400 POLONIUS. 
 
 GIVING AND ASKING. 
 
 I LIKE him who can ask boldly without impudence ; 
 he has faith in humanity ; he has faith in himself. No one 
 who is not accustomed to give grandly can ask boldly. 
 
 He who goes round about in his demands, commonly 
 wants more than he wishes to appear to want. 
 
 He who accepts crawlingly, will give superciliously. 
 
 The manner of giving shows the character of the 
 giver more than the gift itself. There is a princely 
 manner of giving, and of accepting. Lavater. 
 
 THE WISE MOTHER SAYS NOT, " WILL YOU ? " BUT GIVES. 
 BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT. 
 
 Silver from the living 
 
 Is gold in the giving : 
 
 Gold from the dying 
 
 Is but silver a flying : 
 
 Gold and silver from the dead 
 
 Turn too often into lead. Fuller. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 WE deliberate, says Seneca, about the parcels of 
 Life, but not about Life itself ; and so arrive all una- 
 wares at its different epochs, and have the trouble of 
 beginning all again. And so, finally, it is that we do 
 not walk as men confidently toward death, bqt let death 
 come suddenly upon us.
 
 POLONIUS. 401 
 
 VENT AU VISAGE 
 
 FAIT UN HOMME SAGE. 
 
 When Hercules was taken up to the consistory of the 
 Gods, he went up to Juno first of all, and saluted her. 
 
 " How," said J.upiter, " do you first seek your worst 
 enemy to do her courtesy ? " 
 
 " Yea," said Hercules, " her malice it was made me do 
 such deeds as have lifted me to Heaven." German. 
 
 PKECEDENCY. 
 
 1. 
 
 A QUESTION of precedence arose among the beasts. 
 "Let Man be the judge," said the Horse, "he is not a 
 party concerned." " But has he sense enough," said the 
 Mole, " to distinguish and appreciate our more hidden 
 excellencies I " 
 
 " Ay can you vouch for that f " said the Ass. But 
 the Horse said to them, " He who distrusts his own 
 cause is most suspicious of his judge." 
 
 2. 
 
 Man was sent for. u By what scale, O Man, wilt thou 
 measure us ? " said the Lion. " By the measure of your 
 usefulness to me," said Man. 
 
 " Nay then," replied the Lion, " at that rate the Ass 
 is worthier than I. You must leave us to decide it 
 among ourselves."
 
 402 POLONIUS. 
 
 3. 
 
 " There," cried Mole and Ass, " you see, Horse, the 
 Lion thinks with us ! " 
 
 4. 
 
 But the Lion said, " What, after all, js all the dispute 
 about f What is it to me whether I am considered first 
 or last ? Enough I know myself." And he strode 
 away into the forest. German. 
 
 IMAGINARY EVILS. 
 
 I AM more afraid of my friends making themselves 
 uncomfortable who have only imaginary evils to in- 
 dulge, than I am for the peace of those who, battling 
 magnanimously with real inconvenience and danger, 
 find a remedy in the very force of the exertions to which 
 their lot compels them. IF. seott. 
 
 A gentleman of large fortune, while we were seri- 
 ously conversing, ordered a servant to throw some 
 coals on the fire. A puff of smoke came out. He 
 threw himself back in his chair, and cried out, " O 
 Mr. Wesley, these are the crosses I meet with every 
 day!" 
 
 Surely these crosses would not have fretted him so 
 much if he had had only fifty pounds a year instead of 
 
 five thousand. J j ln Wesley.
 
 POLONIUS. 403 
 
 " On n'est point malheureux," wrote Horace Walpole 
 to Madame Du Deffand, " quand on a loisir de s'en- 
 jiiiyer." 
 
 ACTION AND ASPIRATION. 
 
 "NEVER SIGH, BUT SEND." 
 Nihil lacrima citius arescit. ctcero. 
 
 THE danger of a polite and elegant education is, that 
 it separates feeling and acting ; it teaches us to think, 
 speak, and be affected aright, without forcing us to do 
 what is right. 
 
 I will take an illustration of this from the effect pro- 
 duced on the mind by reading what is commonly called 
 a Romance or Novel. Such works contain many good 
 sentiments; characters too are introduced, virtuous, 
 noble, noble, patient under sufferings, and triumphing 
 at last over misfortune. The great truths of religion 
 are upheld, we will suppose, and enforced; and our 
 affections excited and interested in what is good and 
 true. But it is all a fiction ; it does not exist out of a 
 book, which contains the beginning and end of it. We 
 hare nothing to do; we read, are affected, softened, or 
 roused ; and that is all ; we cool again : nothing comes 
 of it. 
 
 Now observe the effect of all this. God has made us 
 feel in order that we may go on to act in consequence
 
 404 POLONIUS. 
 
 of feeling. If, then, we allow our feelings to be excited 
 without acting upon them, we do mischief to the moral 
 system within us ; just as we might spoil a watch, or 
 other piece of mechanism, by playing with the wheels 
 of it ; we weaken the springs, and they cease to act 
 truly. 
 
 Accordingly, when we have got into the habit of 
 amusing ourselves with these works of fiction, we come 
 at length to feel the excitement without the slightest 
 thought or tendency to act upon it. And since it is 
 very difficult to begin any duty without some emotion 
 or other, (that is, on mere principles of dry reasoning,) 
 a grave question arises, how, after destroying the con- 
 nexion between feeling and acting, how shall we get our- 
 selves to act when circumstances make it our duty to do 
 so ? For instance, we will say we have read again and 
 again of the heroism of facing danger, and we have 
 glowed with the thought of its nobleness. We have felt 
 how great it is to bear pain, and to submit to indignities, 
 rather than wound our conscience ; and all this again 
 and again, when we had no opportunity of carrying our 
 good feelings into practice. Now suppose, at length, 
 we actually come to trial, and, let us say, our feelings 
 become roused, as often before, at the thought of boldly 
 resisting temptations to cowardice; shall we therefore 
 do our duty, quitting ourselves like men ? rather, we 
 are likely to talk loudly, and then run from the danger. 
 Why ? rather let us ask, why not ? what is to keep us 
 from yielding! Because we./VW aright? Nay, we have 
 
 J^ 
 
 ~~^$
 
 POLONIUS. 405 
 
 again and again felt aright, and thought aright, with- 
 out accustoming ourselves to act aright ; and though 
 there was an original connexion in our minds between 
 feeling and acting, there is none now ; the wires within 
 
 us, as they may be called, are loosened and powerless. 
 
 Newman. 
 
 HELL IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS. 
 
 " ' Ah, thank 'ee, neighbour,' said a perspiring sheep- 
 driver the other day, to one who hooted away his flock 
 from going down a wrong road, ' Thank 'ee a little 
 help is worth a deal o' pity ! ' ' 
 
 WAR. 
 
 WAR begets Poverty Poverty, Peace 
 Peace begets Riches Fate will not cease 
 Riches beget Pride Pride is War's ground 
 War begets Poverty and so the world goes round. 
 
 Old Saw. 
 
 How all Europe is but like a set of parishes of the 
 same country; participant of the self-same influences 
 ever since the Crusades, and earlier : and these glorious 
 wars of ours are but like parish brawls, which begin in 
 mutual ignorance, intoxication, and boasting speech; 
 which end in broken windows, damage, waste, and 
 bloody noses ; and which one hopes the general good 
 sense is now in the way towards putting down in some 
 measure. carii/ie.
 
 406 POLONIUS. 
 
 " Yet here, as elsewhere, not absurdly does l Metaphy- 
 sic call for aid on Sense.' The physical science of war 
 may do more to abolish war than all our good and 
 growing sense of its folly, wickedness, and extreme dis- 
 comfort. For what State would be at the expense of 
 drilling and feeding Dumdrudges to be annihilated by 
 the first discharge of the COMING GUN ? " 
 
 LOVE 
 
 WITHOUT END HATH NO END. 
 
 No wheedler loves. 
 
 II y a dans la jalousie plus d'amour propre que 
 d'amour. 
 
 II n'y a point de deguisement qui puisse long temps 
 cacher 1'arnour ou il est, ni le feindre on il n'est pas. 
 
 Rochefoucauld. 
 
 "LOVE ASKS FAITH, AND FAITH FIRMNESS." 
 
 Is like our money : when we change a guinea, the 
 shillings escape as things of small account : when we 
 break a day by idleness in the morning, the rest of the 
 hours lose their importance in our eyes. sir w. Scott.
 
 POLONIUS. 407 
 
 EXPENSE. 
 
 COMMONLY it is less dishonourable to abridge petty 
 charges than to stoop to petty gettings. A man. ought 
 warily to begin charges, which once begun will con- 
 tinue ; but in matters that return not, he may be more 
 magnificent. Bacon. 
 
 Fuller says, " Occasional entertainment of men greater 
 than thyself is better than solemn inviting them ; " and 
 a proverb bids us beware of taking for servant one who 
 has waited on our betters. In both cases we shall have 
 to spend beyond our means, and be despised to boot. 
 
 TEUTH AND JUSTICE 
 
 ARE all one: for Truth is but Justice in our know- 
 ledge ; and Justice is but Truth in our practice. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 RICHES. 
 
 THESE times strike monied worldlings with dismay; 
 Ev'n rich men, brave by nature, taint the air 
 With words of apprehension and despair; 
 
 While tens of thousands looking on the fray, 
 
 Men unto whom sufficient for the day, 
 
 And minds not stinted or untill'd are given, 
 Sound healthy children of the God of heaven,
 
 408 POLONIUS. 
 
 Are cheerful as the rising sun in May. 
 
 What do we gather hence but firmer faith 
 That every gift of nobler origin 
 
 Is breathed upon with Hope's perpetual breath ; 
 That Virtue, and the faculties within, 
 Are vital; and that Riches are akin 
 
 To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death? 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 " Ah ! Davy," said Johnson to Garrick, who was 
 showing off his fine grounds at Twickenham, " it is 
 these things that make us fear to die." 
 
 CHOICE OF A CALLING. 
 
 IN all things, to serve from the lowest station up- 
 wards is necessary. To restrict yourself to a Trade is 
 best. For the narrow mind, whatever he attempts is 
 still a Trade ; for the higher, an Art ; and the highest, 
 in doing one thing, does all ; or, to speak less paradoxi- 
 cally, in the one thing which he does rightly, he sees 
 the likeness of all that is done rightly. Goethe. 
 
 " ANY EOAD LEADS TO THE END OF THE WORLD." 
 
 Whatever a young man at first applies to, is com- 
 monly his delight afterwards. Hartley. 
 
 " Whatever a man delights in he will do best : and 
 that he had best do."
 
 POLONIUS. 409 
 
 " Themistocles said he could not fiddle, but he could 
 rule a city. If a man can rule a city well, let him ; 
 but it is better to play the fiddle well than to rule a 
 city ill." 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 LA plus veritable marque d'etre ne avec de grandes 
 qualites, c'est d'etre ne sans Envie. 
 
 Genius may coexist with idleness, wildness, folly, and 
 even crime; but not long, believe me, with selfishness, 
 and the indulgence of an envious disposition. Envy is 
 vtaxtaTO? xac SixatdtaTO? 6soc it dwarfs and withers its 
 
 Worshippers. Coleridge. 
 
 Therefore when you are next sitting down to your 
 epic or your tragedy, pause, and look within, and if you 
 recognise there any grudge against A, so praised in the 
 Quarterly, or B. so feted in America, you may, if you 
 please, save yourself a deal of laborious composition. 
 
 A fine brazen statue w r as accidentally reduced by fire 
 into a shapeless mass. This was re-cast by another art- 
 ist into another statue, quite different from the former, 
 but as beautiful. 
 
 " It is well," said Envy; " but he could not have turned 
 out even this middling piece of work, had not the stuff 
 of the old statue run of itself into shape." German. 
 
 "J
 
 410 POLONIUS. 
 
 ART DIPLOMATIC. 
 
 THE sure way to make a foolish Ambassador is to 
 bring him up to it. What can an Englishman abroad 
 really want but an honest and bold heart, a love for his 
 country, and the Ten Commandments? Your art 
 diplomatic is stuff no truly great man would nego- 
 tiate upon such shallow principles. Coleridge. 
 
 Certainly the ablest men that ever were, have had 
 an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of 
 urbanity and veracity. Bacon. 
 
 How often (says the Tatler) I have wished, for the 
 good of the nation, that several good Politicians could 
 take any pleasure in feeding ducks. I look upon an 
 able statesman out of business like a huge whale that 
 will endeavour to overturn the ship unless he has an 
 empty cask to play with. 
 
 SICKNESS. 
 
 QUAND on se porte bien, on ne comprend pas com- 
 ment on pourroit faire si on etoit malade : et quand on 
 1'est, on prend medecine gaimeiit : le mal y resout. 
 On n'a plus les passions et les desirs des divertisse- 
 ments et des promenades que la sante donnoit, et qui 
 sont incompatibles avec les necessites de la maladie. 
 La nature donne alors des passions et des desirs con-
 
 POLONIUS. 411 
 
 formes a Petat present. Ce ne sont que les craintes 
 que nous nous donnons nous-memes, et lion pas la 
 nature, qui nous troublent ; parce qu'elles joignent a 
 1'etat ou nous sommes les passions de Petat ou nous 
 ne sommes pas. Pacsai. 
 
 Sir C. Bell records the general cheerfulness of the 
 sick and dying at hospitals. 
 
 GOD TEMPERS THE WIND TO THE SHORN LAMB. 
 
 TEACHING. 
 
 I HOLD that a man is only fit to teach so long as he is 
 himself learning daily. If the mind once becomes stag- 
 nant, it can give no fresh draught to another mind ; it 
 is drinking out of a pond instead of from a spring. 
 
 A schoolmaster's intercourse is with the young, the 
 strong, and the happy ; and he cannot get on with them 
 unless in animal spirits he can sympathise with them, 
 
 and show that his thoughtf ulness is not connected with 
 
 i 
 selfishness and weakness. Arnold. 
 
 You may put poison, if you please, in an earthen 
 pitcher, said Socrates, and the pitcher be washed after, 
 and none the worse. But you can take nothing into 
 the soul that does not indelibly infect it whether for 
 good or for evil.
 
 412 POLONIUS. 
 
 TOEY. 
 
 TACITUS wrote, (says Luther,) that by the ancient 
 Germans it was held no shame at all to drink and swill 
 four and twenty hours together. A gentleman of the 
 court asked, " How long ago it was since Tacitus wrote 
 this." He was answered, "Almost 1500 years." "Where- 
 upon the gentleman said, " Forasmuch as drunkenness 
 is so ancient a custom, let us not abolish it." 
 
 An old ruinous tower which had harboured innumer- 
 able jackdaws, sparrows, and bats, was at length re- 
 paired. "When the masons left it, the jackdaws, spar- 
 rows, and bats came back in search of their old dwellings. 
 But these were all filled up. " Of what use now is this 
 great building ? " said they, " come let us forsake this 
 
 USeleSS Stone-heap." German. 
 
 HOW TO WRITE A GOOD BOOK. 
 "HE THAT BURNS MOST SHINES MOST." 
 
 A LOVING heart is the beginning of all knowledge. 
 This it is that opens the whole mind, quickens every 
 faculty of the intellect to do its work that of know- 
 ing; and therefrom, by sure consequence, of vividly 
 uttering forth. Other secret for being "graphic" is 
 there none, worth having ; but this is an all-sufficient one. 
 See, for example, what a small Boswell can do ! Here-
 
 POLONIUS. 413 
 
 by, indeed, is the whole man made a living mirror, 
 wherein the wonders of this ever-wonderful uni- 
 verse are in their true light (which is ever a magical, 
 miraculous one) represented and reflected back on us. 
 It has been said, " the heart sees further than the 
 head." But indeed without the seeing heart, there is 
 no true seeing for the head so much as possible ; all 
 is mere oversight, hallucination, and vain superficial 
 phaiitasmagories, which can permanently profit no one. 
 Here too may we not pause for an instant, and make a 
 practical reflection ? Considering the multitude of 
 mortals that handle the pen in these days, and can 
 mostly spell and write without glaring violations of 
 grammar ; the question naturally arises, How is it, 
 then, that no work proceeds from them bearing any 
 stamp of authenticity and permanence, of worth for 
 more than one day? Ship-loads of fashionable novels, 
 sentimental rhymes, tragedies, farces, diaries of travel, 
 tales by flood and field, are swallowed monthly into the 
 bottomless pool ; still does the press boil : innumera- 
 ble paper-makers, compositors, printers' devils, book- 
 binders, and hawkers grown hoarse with loud proclaim- 
 ing, rest not from their labour ; and still, in torrents, 
 rushes on the great array of publications, unpausing, 
 to their final home ; and still Oblivion, like the grave, 
 cries. Give ! give ! How is it that of all these countless 
 multitudes, no one can attain to the smallest mark of 
 excellence, or produce aught that shall endure longer 
 than the " snow-flake on the river," or the foam of 
 
 > N N
 
 414 POLONIUS. 
 
 penny-beer ? We answer, because they are foam : 
 because there is no reality in them. These three thou- 
 sand men, women, and children, that make up the 
 army of British authors, do not, if we will consider 
 it, see any thing whatever ; consequently have nothing 
 that they can record and utter, only more or fewer 
 things that they can plausibly pretend to record. The 
 universe, of man and nature, is still quite shut up from 
 them ; the "open secret" still utterly a secret; because 
 no sympathy with man or nature, no love and free 
 simplicity of heart, has yet unfolded the same. Nothing 
 but a pitiful image of their own pitiful self, with its 
 vanities, and grudgings, and ravenous hunger of all 
 kinds, hangs for ever painted in the retina of these un- 
 fortunate persons ; so that the starry all, with whatso- 
 ever it embraces, does but appear as some expanded 
 magic-lantern shadow of that same image, and natu- 
 rally looks pitiful enough. 
 
 It is in vain for these persons to allege that they are 
 naturally without gift, naturally stupid and sightless, 
 and so can attain to no knowledge of any thing ; there- 
 fore, in writing of any thing, must needs write false- 
 hoods of it, there being in it no truth for them. Not 
 so, good friends. The stupidest of you has a certain 
 faculty; were it but that of articulate speech, (say in 
 the Scottish, the Irish, the cockney dialect, or even in 
 " governess-English,") and of physically discerning 
 what lies under your nose. The stupidest of you would 
 perhaps grudge to be compared in faculty with James
 
 POLONIUS. 415 
 
 Boswell ; yet see what he has produced ! You do not 
 use your faculty honestly : your heart is shut up full 
 of greediness, malice, discontent ; so your intellectual 
 sense cannot lie open. It is in vain also to urge that 
 James Boswell had opportunities, saw great men and 
 great things, such as you can never hope to look on. 
 What make ye of Parson White of Selborne ? He had 
 not only no great men to look on, but not even men, 
 merely sparrows and cockchafers; yet has he left us 
 a biography of these, which, under its title, " Natural 
 History of Selborne," still remains valuable to us ; 
 which has copied a little sentence or two faithfully from 
 the inspired volume of nature, and so is in itself not 
 without inspiration. Go ye and do likewise. Sweep 
 away utterly -all frothiness and falsehood from your 
 heart : struggle unweariedly to acquire, what is possi- 
 ble for every God-created man, a free, open, humble 
 soul : speak not at all in any wise till you have something 
 to speak : care not for the reward of your speaking, 
 but simply, and with undivided mind, for the truth 
 of your speaking ; then be placed in what section of 
 space and time soever, do but open your eyes and 
 they shall actually see, and bring you real knowledge, 
 wondrous, worthy of belief ; and, instead of our Bos- 
 well and our White, the world will rejoice in a thou- 
 sand stationed on their thousand several watch- 
 towers, to instruct us, by indubitable documents, of 
 whatsoever in our so stupendous world comes to light 
 
 and is ! Garb/It:
 
 416 POLONIUS. 
 
 "And yet," says he again, " What of Books f Hast 
 thoii not already a Bible to write, and publish in print, 
 that is eternal ; namely, 
 
 A LIFE TO LEAD." 
 
 DATE AND DABITUE. 
 
 THERE is in Austria (said Luther) a Monastery, which 
 was, in former times, very rich, and continued rich so 
 long as it gave freely to the poor ; but when it gave 
 over that, then it became poor itself, and so remains to 
 this day. Not long since, a poor man knocked at the 
 gate and begged alms for God's sake : the porter said 
 they were themselves too poor to give. "And do you 
 know why ? " said the other : " I will tell you. You had 
 formerly in this monastery two Brethren, one named 
 DATE, and the other DABITUR. DATE you thrust out ; 
 and DABITUR went away of himself soon after." 
 
 FvcbQi - 
 
 THIS famous " Know thyself," it does but say, 
 " Know thine own business," in another way. 
 
 Menander. 
 
 u Hence too," says a testy modern, " the folly of that 
 impossible precept, i Know thyself/ till it get translated
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 417 
 
 into this more possible one, ' Know what thou canst 
 work at.' " 
 
 " It is true," says Harrington, " that men are no fit 
 judges of themselves, because commonly they are par- 
 tial in their own cause ; yet it is as true, that he that 
 will dispose himself to judge indifferently of himself, 
 can do it better than anybody else, because a man can 
 see further into his own mind and heart than any one 
 else can." 
 
 " He," says Fuller, " who will not freely and sadly 
 confess that he is much a fool, is all a fool." 
 
 Argenson's friend read a book many times over, and 
 complained of the author's repeating himself a great 
 
 deal. 
 
 Kettle called Pot 
 You know what. 
 
 EAGLES NO FLY-CATCHERS. 
 
 The slightness we see in Gainsborough's works can- 
 not-always be imputed to negligence. However they 
 may appear to superficial observers, painters know very 
 well that a steady attention to the general effect takes 
 up more time, and is much more laborious to the mind, 
 than any mode of high-finishing or smoothness, with- 
 out SUCh attention. Sir J. Reynolds. 
 
 Sir Joshua said, u though Johnson did not write his 
 Discourses, the general principles he laid down in morals 
 and literature served as the ground- work of much pro- 
 pounded in them."
 
 418 POLONIUS. 
 
 By way of requital, Opie used to relate how a clerical 
 friend of his preached Sir Joshua's Discourses from the 
 pulpit, only changing the terms of art to those of 
 morals. 
 
 This might easily be done with the sentence quoted 
 above. The " superficial observers " remain as they 
 are, admiring the laborious finish of the model-man, 
 whose every word is weighed and smile measured 
 but scandalised at him, who, having laid down a large 
 and noble design of life, is careless of the petty detail 
 of behaviour whose heart may run wild though it 
 never goes astray. 
 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 SUPERSTITION is the religion of feeble minds ; and 
 they must be tolerated in an intermixture of it, in some 
 trifling or some enthusiastic shape or other, else you 
 will deprive weak minds of a resource found necessary 
 to the strongest. Burke. 
 
 They that are against superstition oftentimes run 
 into it of the wrong side. If I will wear all colours but 
 black, then I am superstitious in not wearing black. 
 
 Selden. 
 
 "The guillotine was as much a superstition as the 
 aristocracy and priestcraft it was set up to exter- 
 minate."
 
 POLONIUS. 419 
 
 MODESTY, 
 
 BEING the case of chastity, it is to be feared that when 
 the case is broken, the jewel is lost. Fuller. 
 
 On pent trouver des femmes qui n'ont jamais eu de 
 galanterie : mais il est rare de trouver qui n'en aient 
 jamais eu q'une. Rochefoucauld. 
 
 " C'EST LE PREMIER PAS QUI COUTE." 
 
 NATURE AND HABIT. 
 
 LA vertu d'un homme ne doit pas se mesurer par ses 
 efforts, mais par ce qu'il fait d'ordiuaire. Pascal. 
 
 All men are better than their ebullitions of evil, but 
 also worse than their ebullitions of good. Richter. 
 
 Nature is often hidden sometimes overcome sel- 
 dom extinguished. Force maketh nature more violent 
 in the return ; doctrine and discourse maketh nature 
 less importune ; but custom only doth alter and subdue 
 nature. Bacon. 
 
 " Let him who would know how far he has changed 
 the old Adam, consider his Dreams." 
 
 " HE THAT COMES OF A HEN MUST SCRAPE."
 
 420 POLONIUS. 
 
 EVERY MAN JUDGES FROM HIMSELF. 
 
 "We measure the excellency of other men by some 
 excellency we conceive to be in ourselves. Nash, a 
 poet, poor enough, (as poets used to be,) seeing an 
 alderman with a gold chain upon his great horse, by 
 way of scorn said to one of his companions, " Do you 
 see yon fellow how goodly, how big he looks ! 
 why, that fellow cannot make a blank verse." 
 
 Nay, we measure the goodness of God from ourselves : 
 we measure his goodness, his justice, his wisdom, by 
 something we call just, good, wise in ourselves. And 
 in so doing, we judge proportionately to the country 
 fellow in the play ; who said, if he were a king, he 
 would live like a lord, and have pease and bacon every 
 day, and a whip that cried Slash. seiden. 
 
 So Warburton says, the Bigot reverses the order of 
 creation, and makes God in man's image ; choosing the 
 very ugliest pattern to model from namely, himself. 
 
 SELF-LOVE. 
 
 IT is the nature of self -lovers as they will set a house 
 on fire and it were but to roast their eggs. Wisdom for 
 a man's self is in many branches thereof a depraved 
 thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to 
 leave a house somewhat before it fall. Bacon.
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 421 
 
 " Enlighten self-interest," cries the philosopher, " do 
 but sufficiently enlighten it ! " We ourselves have 
 seen enlightened self-interests ere now ; and truly, for 
 the most part, their light was only as that of a horn- 
 lantern ; sufficient to guide the bearer himself out of 
 various puddles but to us and the world of compara- 
 tively small advantage. And figure the human species 
 like an endless host seeking its way onwards through 
 undiscovered Time, in black darkness, save that each had 
 his horn-lantern, and the vanguard some few of glass. 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 IT IS A POOR CENTRE OF A MAN'S ACTIONS HIMSELF. 
 
 Bacon. 
 
 PEEJUDICES. 
 
 "No wise man can have a contempt for the prejudices 
 of others ; and he should stand in a certain awe of his 
 own, as if they were aged instructors. They may in the 
 end prove wiser than he." 
 
 Many of our men of speculation, instead of explod- 
 ing general prejudices, employ their sagacity to dis- 
 cover the latent wisdom which prevails in them. If 
 they find what they seek, and they seldom fail, they 
 think it more wise to continue the prejudice, with the 
 reason involved, than to cast away the coat of prejudice 
 and leave the naked reason ; because prejudice, with 
 its reason, has a motive to give action to that reason.
 
 422 POLONIUS. 
 
 and an affection which will give it permanence. Preju- 
 dice is of ready application in the emergency : it pre- 
 viously engages the mind in a steady course of wisdom 
 and virtue, and does not leave the man hesitating in the 
 moment of decision, sceptical, puzzled, and unresolved. 
 Prejudice renders a man's virtue his habit, and not a 
 series of unconnected acts. Burke. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 " MUCH music marreth men's manners," said Galen. 
 Although some men will say that it doth not so, but 
 rather recreateth and maketh quick a man's mind ; yet 
 methinks, by reason, it doth as honey doth to a man's 
 stomach, which at first receiveth it well, but afterward 
 it maketh it unfit to abide any strong nourishing meat. 
 And even so in a manner these instruments make a 
 man's wit so soft and smooth, so tender and quaisy, 
 that they be less able to brook strong and rough study. 
 Wits be not sharpened, but rather made blunt, with 
 such soft sweetness, even as good edges be blunted 
 which men whet upon soft chalk-stones. it. Aseham. 
 
 Plato allowed but of two kinds of music in his re- 
 public ; the Martial, and the Sedate. He forbade the 
 luxurious, the doleful, the sentimental. And Aris- 
 tophanes complains of the new intricate divisions that 
 were in his day superseding the simple plain-song of 
 more heroic times.
 
 IP - 
 
 POLONIUS. 423 
 
 One may conceive that Handel is wholesomer for a 
 people than Bellini. 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 THE French were distressed that Dumont claimed to 
 have supplied their Mirabeau with materials for his 
 eloquence. " Good people," said Goethe, " as if their 
 Hercules, or any Hercules, must not be well fed as if 
 the Colossus must not be made of parts. What is Gen- 
 ius but the faculty of seizing things from right and left 
 here a bit of marble, there a bit of brass and 
 breathing life into them ? " 
 
 " If children," he says elsewhere, " grew up according 
 to early indications, we should have nothing but Gen- 
 iuses : but growth is not merely development ; the vari- 
 ous organic systems that constitute one man, spring 
 from one another, follow each other, change into each 
 other, supplant each other, and even consume each 
 other; so that after a time, scarce a trace is left of 
 many aptitudes and abilities." 
 
 FORMS OP BEHAVIOUR. 
 
 To attain to good Forms it almost sufficeth not to 
 despise them : for so shall a man observe them in others 
 and let him trust himself with the rest. For if he
 
 424 POLONIUS. 
 
 labour too much to express them lie shall lose their 
 grace ; which is, to be natural and unaffected. 
 
 Some men's behaviour is like a verse wherein every 
 syllable is weighed. How can a man comprehend great 
 matters that breaketh his mind too much to small 
 observation ? 
 
 The sum of behaviour is to retain a man's own 
 dignity without intruding upon that of others. Bacon. 
 
 DISPUTES. 
 
 " SOME have wondered that disputes about opinions 
 should so often end in personalities : but the fact is, that 
 such disputes begin with personalities ; for our opinions 
 are a part of ourselves." 
 
 Besides, " after the first contradiction it is ourselves, 
 and not the thing, we maintain." 
 
 WHAT IS A MAN'S RELIGION? 
 
 NOT the church creed which he professes, the articles 
 of faith which he will sign, and in words or deeds other- 
 wise assert ; not this wholly ; in many cases not this at 
 all. We see men of all kinds of professed creeds attain 
 to almost all degrees of worth or worthlessness under 
 each or any of them. This is not what I call religion,
 
 POLONIUS. 425 
 
 this profession and assertion, which is often only a pro- 
 fession and assertion from the outworks of man, from 
 the mere argumentative region of him, if even so deep 
 as that. But the thing a man does practically believe, 
 (and this is often enough without asserting it to himself, 
 much less to others,) the thing a man does practically 
 lay to heart, and know for certain concerning his vital 
 relations to this mysterious universe, and his duty and 
 destiny there that is in all cases the primary thing 
 for him, and creatively determines all the rest. That is 
 his religion ; or, it may be, his mere scepticism and no 
 religion. 
 
 FAITH AND HOPE. 
 
 JUST before Socrates drinks the poison, he relates to 
 his friends the famous Mythus of Tartarus and Elysium 
 the final destination of the soul after death according 
 to its deeds in the life. A Mythus, if not exact in detail, 
 he says, yet true in the main ; and while men cannot 
 get at TRUTH itself, they are bound to seize upon the 
 MOST TRUE, and on that, as 011 a raft, float over the 
 dangerous sea of life. 
 
 " If a man have not Faith, he has surely Hope : and 
 he is bound to act on his highest Hope as on a certainty. 
 Whence does that Hope spring ? And he may well em- 
 body it in any innocent form of public Faith, which, if not 
 wholly to his mind, is yet a sufficient symbol of what
 
 426 POLONIUS. 
 
 he desires, and at least mixes him up in wholesome 
 communion with his fellow-men." 
 
 When at the last hour, says Richter, all other hopes 
 and fears die within us, and knowledge and confidence 
 vanish away, Religion alone survives and blossoms as 
 the night of death closes round. 
 
 A 
 ~^ 
 
 STUDIES. 
 
 STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for 
 ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness 
 and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for 
 ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. 
 For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par- 
 ticulars one by one ; but the general counsels, and the 
 plots and marshallings of affairs, come best from those 
 that are learned. To spend too much time in studies, is 
 sloth : to use them too much for ornament, is affecta- 
 tion : to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the 
 humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are per- 
 fected by experience : for natural abilities are like 
 natural plants, that need pruning by study ; and stud- 
 ies themselves do give forth directions too much at 
 large except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty 
 men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and 
 wise men use them ; for they teach not their own use ; 
 but that is a wisdom without them, and above them,
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 427 
 
 born by observation. Read not to confute and contra- 
 dict; nor to believe and take for granted ; but to weigh 
 and consider. 
 
 Reading maketh a full man; conference, a ready 
 man ; and writing, an exact man. Bacon. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN'S CALLING. 
 
 MEN ought to know that, in the theatre of human 
 life, it is only for God and angels to be Spectators. 
 
 Bacon. 
 
 To make some nook of God's creation a little fruit- 
 fuller, better, more worthy of God: to make some 
 , human hearts a little wiser, maufuller, happier ; more 
 blessed, less accursed ! It is work for a God. 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 " I lived myself like a Pauper," said Pestalozzi, u to 
 try if I could teach Paupers to live like Men." 
 
 ''THE ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS.'' 
 
 Oh unwise mortals, that for ever change and shift, 
 saying, " Yonder not here " wealth richer than both 
 the Indies lies every where for man, if he will endure. 
 Not his oaks only, and his fruit trees, his very Heart 
 roots itself wherever he will abide ; roots itself, draws 
 nourishment from the deep fountains of universal be- 
 ing ! Vagrant Sam Slicks, who rove over the earth
 
 428 POLONIUS. 
 
 "doing- strokes of trade" what wealth have these! 
 Horse-loads, ship-loads, of white or yellow metal in 
 very truth, what are these ? Slick rests no where he is 
 homeless ! he can build stone or marble houses ; but to 
 continue in them is denied him. The wealth of a man 
 is the number of things which he loves and blesses 
 which he is loved and blessed by. The herdsman in his 
 clay shealing, where his very cow and dog are friends 
 to him, and not a cataract but carries memories for him, 
 and not a mountain-top but nods old recognition ; his 
 life, all-encircled as in blessed mother's arms, is it poorer 
 than Slick's, with ass-loads of yellow metal on his back ? 
 
 Carlyle. 
 
 Coalescere otio non potes, nisi desinas circumspicere 
 et errare. Seneca. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A PRINCIPAL fruit of Friendship is the ease and dis- 
 charge of the fulness and swelling of the heart, which 
 passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know 
 diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dan- 
 gerous to the body ; and it is not otherwise in the mind. 
 You may take sarza to open the liver ; steel to open the 
 spleen ; flour of sulphur for the lungs ; castoreum for 
 the brain. But no receipt openeth the heart but a true 
 Friend ; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, 
 hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 429 
 
 the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or con- 
 fession. Bacon. 
 
 On ne sauroit con server long-temps les sentiments 
 qu'on doit avoir pour ses amis et pour ses bienfaiteurs 
 si on se laisse la liberte de parler de leurs defauts. 
 
 Rochefoucauld. 
 
 A modern Greek proverb says 
 
 " LOVE YOUR FRIEND WITH HIS FOIBLE." 
 
 And finally, beware of long silence, and long absence. 
 
 " OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND ! " 
 
 And so, what we never can replace, the mirror of our 
 former selves, is broken ! 
 
 " Old friends," says Selden, " are best. King James 
 used to call for his old shoes, they were easiest to his 
 feet." 
 
 Those that have loved longest love best. A sudden 
 blaze of kindness may, by a single blast of coldness, be 
 extinguished : but that fondness which length of time 
 has connected with many circumstances and occasions, 
 though it may be for a while suppressed by disgust and 
 resentment, with or without a cause, is hourly revived 
 by accidental recollection. To those who have lived 
 long together, every thing heard, and every thing seen,
 
 430 POLONIUS. 
 
 recalls some pleasure communicated, or some benefit 
 conferred ; some petty quarrel, or some slight endear- 
 ment. Esteem of great powers, or amiable qualities 
 newly discovered, may embroider a day or a week; but 
 a friendship of twenty years is interwoven with the 
 texture of life. A friend may be often found and lost ; 
 but an old friend never can be found, and nature has 
 provided that he cannot easily be lost. Johnson. 
 
 ( V, 
 
 AVAEICE. 
 " DREAM OF GOLD, AND WAKE HUNGRY." 
 
 WRETCHED are those who in pursuit of gold 
 
 Come to mistake the evil for the good : 
 
 For getting blinds the inward eye of thought. 
 
 From the Greek. 
 
 Luther thought that love of money, besides being in 
 other ways unprosperous, foreboded a man's death. " I 
 hear that the Prince Elector, George, begins to be Cov- 
 etous, which is a sign of his death very shortly. When 
 I saw Dr. Grode begin to tell his puddings hanging in 
 his chimney, I told him he would not live long, and so 
 it fell out," 
 
 But Misers, unfortunately, live long, -their hard 
 habit of mind not affected perhaps by the wear and 
 tear of other passions and affections; perpetually 
 soothed by the sight of increasing wealth, preserved 
 by the very temperance their avarice prescribes.
 
 POLONIUS. 431 
 
 G-oethe defined Italian industry, " not to make Riches, 
 but to live free from Care" an amiable contrast to 
 much of ours. 
 
 THE SOUL IS THE MAN. 
 WE were indeed 
 
 Tiavta y.ov.^ xal navta yskwc, vtal ftavtoi TO JI.YJOEV, 
 
 if we did not feel that we were so. Coleridge. 
 
 Man is but a reed the feeblest thing in nature. 
 But then he is a reed that thinks. It needs no gather- 
 ing up of the powers of nature to crush him : a vapour, 
 a drop of water, will do it. But if the whole universe 
 should fall upon him and crush him, man would yet be 
 more noble than that which slew him, because he knows 
 he is dying ; and the universe knows it not. Therefore 
 it is that our whole dignity lies but in this the faculty 
 of Thinking. By this only do we rise in the scale of 
 being ; not by any extension of space and duration. 
 
 Let us therefore strive to Think "Well. Pascal. 
 
 FAME. 
 
 PRAISE is the reflection of virtue ; but it is as the 
 glass or body which giveth reflection. If it be from 
 the common people, it is commonly false and nought ;
 
 432 POLONIUS. 
 
 
 
 and rather followeth vain persons than virtuous. For 
 the common people understand not many excellent 
 virtues : the lowest virtues draw praise from them ; 
 the middle virtues work in them astonishment or ad- 
 miration ; but of the highest virtues they have no sense 
 or perceiving at all ; but shows, and species virtutibus 
 similes, do best with them. Bacon. 
 
 Thus indeed is it always, or nearly always, with true 
 Fame. The heavenly luminary rises amid vapours: 
 star-gazers enough must scan it with critical telescopes ; 
 it makes no blazing ; the world can either look at it, or 
 forbear looking at it. Not until after a time and times 
 does its celestial nature become indubitable. Pleasant, 
 on the other hand, is the blazing of a Tar-barrel : the 
 crowd dance merrily round it with loud huzzaing, uni- 
 versal three times three, and, like Homer's peasants, 
 " bless the useful light." But unhappily it so soon 
 ends in darkness, foul choking smoke, and is kicked 
 into the gutters, a nameless imbroglio of charred staves, 
 pitch cinders, and " vomissement du diable." 
 
 THE LIGHTING OF THE TORCH. 
 
 THE human mind is so much clogged and borne 
 downward by the strong and early impressions of Sense, 
 that it is wonderful how the ancients should have made 
 such a progress, and seen so far into intellectual matters 
 
 ;V
 
 POLONIUS. 433 
 
 without some glimmering of a Divine tradition. Who- 
 ever considers a parcel of rude savages left to them- 
 selves, how they are sunk and swallowed up in sense and 
 prejudice, and how unqualified by their natural force 
 to emerge from this state, will be apt to think that the 
 first spark of philosophy was derived from heaven, and 
 that it was, as a heathen writer expresses it, 6so7uapdSotos 
 
 (j)tXoaO<{>ta. Berkeley. 
 
 THE LOOKING-GLASS. 
 
 SHE neglects her heart who studies her glass. He 
 who avoids the glass, aghast at the caricature of morally 
 debased features, feels mighty strife of virtue and vice. 
 
 Lavater. 
 
 SOLOMON'S SEAL. 
 
 THE Sultan asked Solomon for a Signet motto, that 
 should hold good for Adversity or Prosperity. Solomon 
 gave him, 
 
 " THIS ALSO SHALL PASS AWAY." 
 
 QUID PRO QUO. 
 
 IF the doing of Right depends on the receiving of it ; 
 if our fellow-men in this world are not Persons, but 
 mere Things, that for services bestowed will return 
 
 28
 
 434 POLONIUS. 
 
 services Steam-engines that will manufacture calico 
 if we put in coals and water then, doubtless, the calico 
 ceasing, our coals and water may also rationally cease. 
 But if, on the other hand, our fellow-man is no Steam- 
 engine, but a Man, united with us and with all men in 
 sacred, mysterious, indissoluble bonds, in an all-embrac- 
 ing love that encircles at once the seraph and the glow- 
 worm, then will our duties to him rest on quite another 
 basis than this very humble one of Quid pro Quo. 
 
 Carlyle. 
 LOVE IS THE TRUE PRICE OF LOVE. 
 
 THE WORLD WE LIVE IN. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the misery on earth is great indeed, yet 
 the foundation of it rests, after deduction of the partly 
 bearable, and partly imaginary, evil of the natural 
 world, entirely and alone on the moral dealings of Man. 
 
 Coleridge, from the German. 
 
 Could the world unite in the practice of that despised 
 train of virtues which the divine ethics of our Saviour 
 hath so inculcated upon us, the furious face of things 
 must disappear ; Eden would be yet to be found, and 
 the Angels might look down not with pity but joy upon 
 
 US. Sir T. Broivne. 
 
 And how are we to set about passing this greatest 
 
 REFORM BILL f
 
 POLONIUS. 435 
 
 To two bad verses which I write 
 
 Two good shall be appended : 
 IF EVERY MAN WOULD MEND A MAN, 
 
 THEN ALL MANKIND WERE MENDED. 
 
 " HAVE AT IT, AND HAVE IT." 
 
 One might add many capital English proverbs of this 
 kind, all so characteristic of the activity and boldness 
 of our forefathers. 
 
 The Romans had the same. " Vetus proverbium est, 
 Gfladiatorem in arena capere consilium." 
 
 " Not to resolve, is to resolve," says Bacon. " Neces- 
 sity, and this same ' Jacta est Alea,' hath many times 
 an advantage, because it awaketh the powers of the 
 mind, and strengthened endeavour ' ceteris pares, 
 necessitate cert& superiores.' " 
 
 It has been said, the English are wise in action, not 
 in thought. It has been also said by the head of a 
 people of thought, that, " Doubt of any kind can only 
 be removed by action." 
 
 While we sit still, we are never the wiser ; but going 
 into the river, and moving up and down, is the way to 
 discover its depths and shallows. Bacon. 
 
 Men, till a matter be done, wonder that it can be 
 done ; and as soon as it is done, wonder again that it 
 was no sooner done. Bacon. 
 
 When you tell a man at once, and straight forward, 
 the purpose of any object, he fancies there is nothing 
 in it. Goethe.
 
 436 POLONIUS. 
 
 " I am persuaded, that if the majority of mankind 
 could be made to see the order of the Universe, such as 
 it is, as they would not remark in it any virtues 
 attached to certain numbers, nor any properties inher- 
 ent in certain planets, nor fatalities in certain times and 
 revolutions of these ; they would not be able to restrain 
 themselves, on the sight of this admirable regularity 
 and beauty, from crying out with astonishment 
 What ! is this all ? " 
 
 OMNE IGNOTUM PEG MAGNIFICO. 
 
 ANGER 
 
 Is certainly a kind of baseness, as it appears well in 
 the weakness of those subjects in whom it reigns 
 Children, women, old folks, sick folks. Bacon. 
 
 While Sir Gareth of Orkney is disguised as a servant, 
 the kitchen-wench calls out " Oh Jhesu, merveille 
 have I what manner a man ye be, for it may never ben 
 otherwise but that ye be comen of a noble blood, for so 
 foule ne shamefully dyd never woman rule a knyghte as 
 I have done you, and ever curtoisly ye have suffred 
 me ; and that cam never but of a gentyl blood." 
 
 K. 
 
 Ung chevalier, n'en doubtez pas, 
 Doibt ferir hault, et parler bas.
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 437 
 
 A Gallant man is above ill words. An example we 
 have in the old Lord Salisbury, who was a great wise 
 man. Stone had called some Lord about court, "Fool; " 
 the Lord complains, and has Stone whipt. Stone cries, 
 " I might have called my Lord of Salisbury 'Fool ' often 
 enough before he would have had me whipt." seiden. 
 
 "FAST BIND FAST FIND." 
 
 Diderot has convinced himself, and indeed, as above 
 became plain enough, acts on the conviction, that Mar- 
 riage, contract it, solemnise it, in what way you will, 
 involves a solecism which reduces the amount of it to 
 simple Zero. It is a suicidal covenant ; annuls itself in 
 the very forming. ''Thou makest a vow/' says he, twice 
 or thrice, as if the argument were a clencher " Thou 
 makest a vow of Eternal constancy under a rock which 
 is even then crumbling away." True, Denis : the 
 rock crumbles away ; all things are changing ; man 
 changes faster than most of them. Man changes, and 
 will change : the question then arises, Is it wise in him 
 to tumble forth in headlong obedience to this love of 
 change ; is it so much as possible for him ? Among the 
 dualisms of man's wholly dualistic state, this we might 
 fancy was an observable one ; that along with his un- 
 ceasing tendency to Change, there is no less ineradicable 
 tendency to Persevere. How in this world of perpetual 
 flux shall man secure himself the smallest foundation, 
 except hereby alone ; that he take pre-assurance of 
 his fate; that in this and the other high act of his
 
 438 POLONIUS. 
 
 life, his will, with, all solemnity, abdicate its right to 
 Change ; voluntarily become involuntary, and say once 
 for all Be there no further dubitation on it ! cariyie. 
 
 PEDIGREE. 
 
 NOBLES and heralds, by your leave, 
 Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior; 
 
 He was the son of Adam and Eve 
 Let Nassau or Bourbon go higher. 
 
 No Prince, how great 'soever, begets his Predeces- 
 sors ; and the noblest rivers are not navigable to the 
 Fountain. Even the Parentage of the Nile is yet in 
 obscurity, and 't is a dispute among authors whether 
 Snow be not the head of his pedigree. A. 
 
 CURIOSITY. 
 
 A MAN that is busy and inquisitive is commonly 
 Envious : for to know much of other men's matters 
 cannot be because all that ado may concern his own 
 estate; therefore it must needs be that he taketh a kind 
 of play-pleasure in looking upon the fortunes of others. 
 Neither can he that mindeth but his own business find 
 much matter for envy ; for envy is a gadding passion, 
 and walketh the streets, and doth not keep house. 
 " Non est Curiosus quiii idem sit Maleficus. Bacon.
 
 POLONIUS. 439 
 
 POLEMICS. 
 
 Fallacia alia aliam trudit. 
 
 ''ONE NAIL DRIVES OUT ANOTHER." 
 
 THE Polemic annihilates his opponent ; but in doing 
 so annihilates himself too ; and both are swept away to 
 make room for something other and better. 
 
 Generally, when truth is communicated polemically, 
 (that is, not as it exists in its own inner Simplicity, but 
 as it exists in external relations to error,) the tempta- 
 tion is excessive to use those arguments which will tell 
 at the moment upon the crowd of by-standers, in pref- 
 erence to those which will approve themselves ulti- 
 mately to enlightened disciples. If a man denied him- 
 self all specious arguments and all artifices of dialectic 
 subtlety, he must renounce the hopes of a present tri- 
 umph ; for the light of absolute truth, 011 moral or on 
 spiritual themes, is too dazzling to be sustained by the 
 diseased optics of those habituated to darkness, &c. 
 
 Blacku-ood, 19. 
 
 " Such are the folios of Schoolmen and Theologians. 
 Let us preserve them in our libraries, however, out of 
 reverence for men who fought well in their day with 
 the weapons then in use ; and also, as perpetual monu- 
 ments of what has been thoroughly tried and found to 
 fail. These folios do very well to block up one of the 
 roads that lead to nothing."
 
 440 POLONIUS. 
 
 THE TIME OF DAY. 
 
 IN the Youth of a state, Arms do flourish; in the 
 middle age of a state, Learning ; and then both of them 
 together for a time ; in the declining age of a state, me- 
 chanical arts and merchandise. Bacon. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 CRATES saw a young man walking alone, and asked 
 him what he was about. " Conversing with myself." 
 " Take care/ 7 said Crates, " you may have got into very 
 bad company." 
 
 "Eagles may fly alone; but I believe all the wiser 
 animals live in societies and ordered communities." 
 
 "BE NOT SOLITARY. BE NOT IDLE." 
 
 " TOUCH PITCH AND BE DAUBED." 
 
 NEVER wholly separate in your mind the merits of 
 any political question from the Men who are concerned 
 in it. You will be told, that if a measure is good, what 
 have you to do with the character and views of those 
 who bring it forward ? But designing men never sep- 
 arate their plans from their interests, and if you assist 
 them in their schemes, you will find the pretended good 
 in the end thrown aside, or perverted, and the inter-
 
 POLONIUS. 441 
 
 ested object alone compassed ; and this perhaps through 
 your means. Burke. 
 
 " THE DEVIL CAN QUOTE SCRIPTURE," &C. 
 
 "HE IS WISE THAT FOLLOWS THE WISE." 
 
 " WHAT can the incorruptiblest Bobuses elect, if it be 
 not some Bobissimus, should they find such ? " 
 
 The Gods, when they appeared to men, were com- 
 monly unrecognised of them. Goethe. 
 
 THE EYE FOR HISTOEY. 
 
 THE difference between a great mind's and a little 
 mind's use of History is this : the latter would consider, 
 for instance, what Luther did, taught, or sanctioned; 
 the former, what Luther a Luther would now do, 
 teach, and sanction. 
 
 Some persons are shocked at the cruelty of Walton's 
 Angler, as if the most humane could be expected to 
 trouble themselves about fixing a worm on a hook at a 
 time when they burnt men at a stake in conscience and 
 tender heart. We are not to measure the feelings of 
 one age by those of another. Had Walton lived in our 
 day, he would have been the first to cry out against the 
 cruelty of angling. As it was, his flies and baits were 
 only a part of his tackle. Ha:iui.
 
 442 POLONIUS. 
 
 " So from the failings of the good to the vices of the 
 bad. ' Give the devil his due.' Henry the Eighth, had 
 he lived now, might be little more than the ' First Gen- 
 tleman in Europe.' He would but cheat his subjects, 
 (if he could,) and tease his wives to death without mur- 
 dering either. He could not have done what he did had 
 not his people, in some measure, approved it; they were 
 as ready to burn heretics, and disembowel traitors, as 
 he; and ready to be burned and disemboweled them- 
 selves when their turn came. We are surprised to read 
 of Henry's victims praying for him on the scaffold; but 
 religion ^and loyalty were one, and men's bodies and 
 souls were stouter." 
 
 LEAENING. 
 
 WE have to bear in mind what was said after the 
 revival of letters by men of all creeds, that Learning is 
 the fruit of Piety; in order that, by the sincerity of our 
 hearts, by knowledge of ourselves, and by a conscien- 
 tious walk in the sight of God, we may guard ourselves 
 against the desire to appear what we are not ; that we 
 may never forgive ourselves the slightest desertion 
 from Truth ; and that we may never consider as Truth 
 any result of our investigations that flatters our wishes, 
 so long as there is in our conscience the slightest feel- 
 ing of its being wrong.
 
 POLONIUS. 443 
 
 Each man, who has no gift for producing first-rate 
 works, should entirely abstain from the pursuit of Art, 
 and seriously guard himself against any deception on 
 that subject. For it must be owned that in all men 
 there is a certain vague desire to imitate whatever is 
 presented to them ; and such desires do not prove at all 
 that we possess the force within us necessary for such 
 enterprises. Look at boys, how, whenever any rope- 
 dancers have been visiting the town, they go scram- 
 bling up and down, and balancing on all the planks and 
 beams within their reach, till some other charm calls 
 them off to other sports, for which, perhaps, they are as 
 little suited. Hast thou never marked it in the circle of 
 our friends! No sooner does a Dilettante introduce' 
 himself to notice, than numbers of them set themselves 
 to learn playing on his instrument. How many wan- 
 der back and forward on this bootless way! Happy 
 they who soon detect the chasm that lies between their 
 Wishes and their Powers. wwieim 
 
 Nothing in prose or verse was ever yet worth a wisp 
 to rub down the writer with, produced in a " fit of sym- 
 pathetic admiration." Christopher X 
 
 "SAY- WELL AND DO-WELL END WITH ONE LETTER: 
 SAY-WELL IS GOOD; BUT DO-WELL IS BETTER." 
 
 Plato, et Aristoteles, et omnis in diversum itura 
 sapientium turba, plus ex Moribus quam ex Yerbis 
 
 traxit. Seneca.
 
 444 POLONIUS. 
 
 Preachers say, " Do as I say, not as I do." But if a 
 physician had the same disease on him that I have, and 
 he should bid me do one thing, and he do another, could 
 I believe him ? seiden. 
 
 FAMILY TIES. 
 
 CERTAINLY, Wife and Children are a kind of disci- 
 pline of humanity ; and single men, though they be many 
 times more Charitable, because their means are less 
 exhaust, on the other side, they are more Cruel and 
 hard-hearted good to make severe inquisitors, because 
 their tenderness is not so often called upon. Bacon. 
 
 A PERSIAN LEGEND. 
 
 " A CERTAIN man of Bagdad dreamed one night that 
 in a certain house in a certain street in Cairo he should 
 find a treasure. To Egypt accordingly he set forth, 
 and met in the Desert with one who was on his road 
 from Cairo to Bagdad, having dreamt that in a certain 
 house in a certain street there lie should find a treas- 
 ure : and lo, each of these men had been directed to the 
 other's house to find a treasure that only needed look- 
 ins: for in his own."
 
 POLONIUS. 445 
 
 The error of a lively rake lies in his Passions, which 
 may be reformed ; but a dry rogue, who sets up for 
 Judgment, is incorrigible. Berkeley. 
 
 Nothing is more unsatisfactory than a mature judg- 
 ment adopted by an immature mind. Goethe. 
 
 ORATORY. 
 
 QUESTION was asked of Demosthenes, what was the 
 chief part of an Orator f He answered, Action. What 
 next ? Action. What next again ? Action. He said 
 it that knew it best ; and had by nature himself no ad- 
 vantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that 
 that part of an Orator, which is but superficial, and 
 rather the virtue of a Player, should be placed so high 
 above those other noble parts of invention, elocution, 
 and the rest ; nay, almost as if it were all in all. But 
 the reason is plain. There is in human nature, gener- 
 ally, more of the Fool than of the Wise ; and therefore 
 those faculties by which the Foolish part of men's 
 minds is taken, are most potent. Bacon. 
 
 Fox used to say, that if a speech read very well it was 
 not a good speech. 
 
 Burke, whose rising emptied the House, is the only 
 one of the Orators of that day who now can be said to 
 survive. The rest were wise in their generation, and 
 are gone with it. 
 
 >
 
 446 POLONIUS. 
 
 "NEVEK SIGH, BUT SEND." 
 
 ONE secret act of self-denial, one sacrifice of incli- 
 nation to duty, is worth, all the mere good thoughts, 
 warm feelings, passionate prayers, in which idle people 
 indulge themselves. It will give us more comfort on 
 our death-bed to reflect on one deed of self-denying 
 mercy, purity, or humility, than to recollect the shed- 
 ding of many tears, and the recurrence of frequent 
 transports, and much spiritual exultation. 
 
 I would have a man disbelieve he can do one jot or 
 tittle more than he has already done ; refrain from bor- 
 rowing aught on the hope of the future, however good 
 a security he seems to be able to show ; and never to 
 take his good feelings and wishes in pledge for one 
 single untried deed. 
 
 NOTHING BUT PAST ACTS ARE VOUCHERS FOR FUTURE. 
 
 Newman. 
 
 VANITY BY A FRENCHMAN. 
 
 IL n'y a que ceux qui sont Meprisables qui craignent 
 d'etre Meprises. 
 
 Si nous ne Flattions pas nous-memes, la Flatterie des 
 autres lie nous pourroit nuire. 
 
 Si nous n'avions point d'Orgueil, nous ne nous 
 plaindrions pas de celui des autres. 
 
 Les passions les plus violentes nous laissent quelque- 
 fois du relache ; mais la Vanite nous agite tou jours.
 
 POLONIUS. 447 
 
 PREJUDICE. 
 
 No one has a right to congratulate his neighbour that 
 a deep-rooted Conviction has departed out of his mind, 
 unless a Truth has replaced it. Earnest feelings may 
 have been entwined about it, and may perish with it 
 how likely that the void in the heart will be supplied 
 with worse vanities than those which have been aban- 
 doned. Eustace Connay. 
 
 HYPOCEISY. 
 
 THERE is no vice, says Rochefoucauld, that is not 
 better than the means we take to conceal it. 
 
 A vice, determining outwardly, is nearer to extinction 
 than that which smoulders inwardly. 
 
 It is not in human nature to deceive Others, for any 
 long time, without, in a measure, deceiving Ourselves. 
 
 Newman. 
 
 The Mask grows one with the Face, and so we see it 
 in the glass. 
 
 The beginning of self-deception is when we begin to 
 find reasons for our propensities. 
 
 The chief stronghold of Hypocrisy is to be always 
 judging one another. Milton. 
 
 To those to whom it is of no moment to say, "Do 
 all as if God were looking at thee," Seneca's ruU-
 
 448 POLONIUS. 
 
 may apply, " Do all as if some Man were looking at 
 thee." 
 
 Finally, Xenophon says the easiest way to seem good 
 is to be good. 
 
 NO FABLE. 
 
 AN ancient Oak being cut down, and split through 
 the midst, out of the very heart of the tree crept a large 
 Toad, and walked away with all the speed he could. 
 Now how long, may we probably imagine, had this 
 creature continued there ? It is not unlikely it might 
 have remained iif its nest above a hundred years. It is 
 not improbable it was nearly, if not altogether, co-eval 
 with the oak ; having been, some way or other, enclosed 
 therein at the time of planting. 
 
 This poor animal had organs of sense, yet it had not 
 any sensation. It had eyes, yet no ray of light ever 
 entered its black abode. There was nothing to hear, 
 nothing to taste or smell, for there was no air to circu- 
 late, there was no space to move. From the very first 
 instant of its existence, there it was shut up in impene- 
 trable darkness. It was shut up from the sun, moon, 
 and stars, and from the beautiful face of nature ; in- 
 deed, from the whole visible world, as much as if it had 
 no being. 
 
 He who lives '' without God in the world," is, in re- 
 spect to the Invisible world, as this toad was in respect 
 to the Visible world. j. Wesley.
 
 POLONIUS. 449 
 
 THE AET OF GOVERNING. 
 
 To learn Obeying is the fundamental art of Govern- 
 ing. How much would any Serene Highness have 
 learned, had he travelled through the world with water 
 jug and empty wallet, sine omni impensa, and at his vic- 
 torious return sat down, not to newspaper paragraphs 
 and city illuminations, but at the foot of St. Edmund's 
 shrine, to shackles and bread and water ! He that can- 
 not be servant of many, will never be master, true guide, 
 and deliverer, of many; that is the true meaning of 
 mastership. Heavens ! had a Duke of Logwood, now 
 rolling sumptuously to his place in the Collective Wis- 
 dom, but himself happened to plough daily, at one time 
 with Is. 6d. a week, with no out-door relief what a 
 light, unquenchable by logic, and statistic, and arith- 
 metic, would he have thrown on several things for 
 
 him. Carlyle. 
 
 The hall was the place where the great lord used to 
 eat, (wherefore else were the halls made so large?) 
 where he saw his tenants about him. He never eat in 
 private, except in time of sickness. When once he 
 became a thing cooped up, all his greatness was 
 spoiled. Nay, the king himself used to eat in the hall, 
 and his lords sat with him and thus he understood 
 
 Men. Selden. 
 
 "THE FAT sow KNOWS NOT WHAT THE LEAN ONE 
 
 THINKS." 
 
 29
 
 450 POLONIUS. 
 
 MELANCHOLY AND MADNESS. 
 
 LET him not be alone or idle, in any kind of melan- 
 choly, but still accompanied with such friends and 
 familiars he most affects, neatly drest, washt, and 
 combed, according to his ability, at least in clean linen, 
 spruce, handsome, decent, sweet, and good apparel ; for 
 nothing sooner dejects a man than want, squalor, and 
 nastiness, foul or old clothes out of fashion. Burton. 
 
 If I could get his beard and hood removed I should 
 reckon it a weighty point ; for nothing more exposes us 
 to madness than distinguishing ourselves from others, 
 and nothing more contributes to maintain our common 
 sense than living in the universal way with multitudes 
 
 Of men. Goethe. 
 
 BE NOT SOLITARY, BE NOT IDLE. 
 
 TOSSING THE THOUGHTS. 
 
 WHOSOEVER hath his mind fraught with many 
 Thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and 
 break up in the communication and discoursing with 
 another ; he tosseth his thoughts more easily ; he mar- 
 shalleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look 
 when they are turned into words : finally, he waxeth 
 wiser than himself ; and that more by an hour's Dis- 
 course than by a day's Meditation. It was well said by 
 Themistocles to the king of Persia, " that Speech was
 
 POLONIUS. 451 
 
 like cloth of Arras opened and put abroad; whereby 
 the imagery doth appear in figure ; whereas in Thoughts 
 they lie but in packs." 
 
 Neither is this second fruit of Friendship in opening 
 the understanding restrained only to such friends as 
 are able to give a man counsel, (they indeed are best,) 
 but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and 
 bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his 
 wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a 
 word, a man were better relate himself to a picture or 
 a statue, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother. 
 
 Bacon. 
 PETIT A PETIT 
 
 L'OISEAU FAIT SON NID. 
 
 Let him take heart who does but, even the least 
 little, advance. Plato. 
 
 And I must work through months of toil, 
 
 And years of cultivation, 
 Upon my proper patch of soil 
 
 To grow my own plantation : 
 I'll take the showers as they fall, 
 
 I will not vex my bosom; 
 Content if at the end of all 
 
 A little garden blossom. A. Tennyson. 
 
 A HANDFUL OF ARROWS. 
 
 EVERY new institution should be but a fuller develop- 
 ment of, or addition to, what already exists. xiebuitr.
 
 452 POLONIUS. 
 
 He that changes his party from Humour is not more 
 virtuous than he who changes it for Interest ; he loves 
 Himself better than Truth. Johnson. 
 
 Opposition to Authority is a good reason, not for 
 suppressing a theory, but for delivering it in modest 
 and tolerant language. Goethe. 
 
 " He who tells all he knows, will also tell more than 
 he knows." 
 
 Show me a man who loves no one place better than 
 another, and I will show you a man who loves nothing 
 
 but himself. Southey. 
 
 The great Art now to be learned is the Art of staying 
 at Home. 
 
 Upon the same Man, as upon a vineyard planted on a 
 mount, there grow more kinds of wine than one: on 
 the south side, something little worse than Nectar ; on 
 the north, something little better than Vinegar. 
 
 Richter. 
 
 What has Life to show us but the glass-door of 
 Heaven ? Through it we see the highest beauty and 
 the highest bliss but it is not open.* sichter. 
 
 * "Even that vulgar and tavern music, which makes one man 
 Merry and another Mad, strikes in me a deep fit of Devotion, 
 and a profound contemplation of the FIRST COMPOSER ; there is 
 something in it of Divinity more than the Ear discovers ; it is an 
 Hieroglyphical and shadowed lesson of the Whole World, and crea- 
 tures of God ; such a Melody to the Ear, as the whole world, well 
 understood, would afford the Understanding a sensible fit of that 
 Harmony which Intellectually sounds in the Ears of GOD." 
 
 Sir T. Browne.
 
 POLONIUS. 453 
 
 The grand basis of Christianity is broad enough for 
 the whole bulk of Mankind to stand on, and join hands 
 as children of one family. Lancaster. 
 
 Who hunt the World's delight too late their hunting rue, 
 When it a Lion proves the hunter to pursue. 
 
 Sin not until 't is left will truly sinful seem ; 
 
 A man must be Awake ere he can tell his Dream. Trench. 
 
 AESTHETICS. 
 
 MEMORABLE because of the high Office of the 
 speaker, and the Place he spoke in was the praise ad- 
 dressed by Lord Palmerston to an English Gentleman, 
 who had been visiting Naples, not to explore volcanoes 
 and excavated cities, but to go down into the prisons 
 and declare to all Europe the horrors of Tyranny and 
 misgovermnent. 
 
 Oh would <' YOUNG ENGLAND" half the study tin-own 
 
 Into Greek annals turn upon our own ; 
 
 Would spell the Actual Present's open book 
 
 Where men may read strange matters learn that Cook, 
 
 Tailor, and Dancer, are ill Heraldry, 
 
 Compared with LIVING PLAIN AND THINKING HIGH: 
 
 That Fools enough have travell'd tip the Rhine ; 
 
 Discuss'd Italian Operas, French Wine, 
 
 Gaped at the Pope, call'd Raffaelle "dinne" 
 
 Yea, could the Nation with one single will 
 
 Renounce the Arts she only bungles still.
 
 454 POLONIUS. 
 
 And stick to that which of all nations best 
 She knows, and which is well worth all the rest, 
 Just Government by the ancient Three-fold Cord 
 Faster secured than by the point of Sword 
 Would we but teach THE PEOPLE, from whom Power 
 Grows slowly up into the Sovereign Flower, 
 By all just dealing with them, head and heart 
 Wisely and religiously to do their part; 
 And heart and hand, whene'er the hour may come, 
 Answer Brute force, that will not yet be dumb. 
 Lest, like some mighty ship that rides the sea, 
 Old England, one last refuge of the Free, 
 Should, while all Europe Thunders with the waves 
 Of war, which shall be Tyrants, Czars, or Slaves, 
 Suddenly, with sails set and timbers true, 
 Go down, betray'd by a degenerate crew! 
 
 " SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST." 
 
 "No," says the Guesser at Truth, "First Thoughts 
 are best, being those of Generous Impulse ; whereas 
 Second Thoughts are those of Selfish Prudence ; best in 
 worldly wisdom ; but, in a higher economy, worst." 
 
 The proverb, in fact, as so many of its kind are said 
 to do, tells just half the truth ; needing its converse 
 to complete the whole. 
 
 For, if a man be Generous by nature, then it may be 
 as the Guesser at Truth says. But if he be >?generous 
 by nature, then the order is reversed, and the proverb 
 will hold even in that better economy adverted to his 
 First Thoughts will be those of Selfish Policy ; but his
 
 POLONIUS. 
 
 455 
 
 Second may be those, not of Generous Impulse indeed, 
 but of a Generous Religion or Philosophy. 
 
 LOT IN LIFE. 
 "EVERY PATH HAS A PUDDLE." 
 
 WHATSOEVER is under the moon is subject to corrup- 
 tion alteration ; and so long as thou livest upon earth 
 look not for other. Thou shalt not here find peaceable 
 and cheerful days, quiet times ; but rather clouds, 
 storms, calumnies such is our fate. And as those 
 errant planets in their distinct orbs have their several 
 motions, sometimes direct, stationary, retrograde, in 
 apogeo, perigeo, oriental, occidental, combust, feral, 
 free, and (as our astrologers will) have their fortitudes 
 and debilities, by reason of those good and bad irradia- 
 tions, conferred to each other's site in the heavens, in 
 their terms, houses, cases, detriments, &c. ; so we rise 
 and fall in this world, ebb and flow, in and out, reared 
 and dejected; lead a troublesome life, subject to many 
 accidents and casualties of fortunes, infirmities, as well 
 from ourselves as others. 
 
 Yea, but thou thinkest thou art more miserable than 
 the rest ; other men are happy in respect of thee ; their 
 miseries are but flea-bitings to thine; thou alone art 
 unhappy, none so bad as thyself. Yet if, as Socrates 
 said, all men in the world should come and bring their
 
 456 POLONIUS. 
 
 grievances together, of body, mind, fortune, sores, 
 ulcers, madness, epilepsies, agues, and all those com- 
 mon calamities of beggary, want, servitude, imprison- 
 ment and lay them on a heap to be equally divided 
 wouldst thou share alike, and take thy portion, or be as 
 thou art ? Without question thou wouldst be as thou 
 art. 
 
 Every man knows his own, but not others' defects 
 and miseries ; and 't is the nature of all men still to 
 reflect upon themselves, their own misfortunes ; not to 
 examine or consider other men's ; not to confer them- 
 selves with others : to recount their own miseries, but 
 not their good gifts, fortunes, benefits, which they 
 have ; to ruminate on their adversity, but not once to 
 think on their prosperity not what they have, but 
 what they want ; to look still on those that go before, 
 but not on those infinite numbers that come after. 
 Whereas many a man would think himself in heaven, a 
 petty prince, if he had but the least part of that fortune 
 which thou so much repinest at, abhorrest, and account- 
 est a most vile and wretched estate. How many thou- 
 sands want that which thou hast ! How many myriads 
 of poor slaves, captives, of such as work day and night 
 in coal-pits, tin-mines, with sore toil to maintain a poor 
 living ; of such as labour in body and mind, live in ex- 
 treme anguish and pain ; all which thou art freed from ! 
 ' ' O f ortunatos nimium sua si bona ndrint ! " Thou art 
 most happy, if thou couldst be content and acknowledge 
 thy happiness ; reni carendo, non fmendo, cognoscimus ;
 
 POLONIUS. 457 
 
 when thou shalt hereafter come to want that which thou 
 now loathest, abhorrest, and art weary of and tired with, 
 when 't is past, thou wilt say thon wert most happy ; and 
 after a little miss, wish with all thine heart thou hadst 
 the same content again mightest lead but such a life 
 
 a world for such a life ! the remembrance of it is pleas- 
 ant. Be silent then: rest satisfied desine ; intuens- 
 que in aliorum infortimia solare menteni ; comfort thyself 
 with other men's misfortunes ; and as the mouldiwarp 
 in ^Esop told the fox, complaining for want of a tail, and 
 the rest of his companions Tacete, quando me oculis 
 captum videtis " You complain of toys ; but I am blind 
 
 be quiet " I say to thee, Be satisfied. It is recorded 
 of the hares, that with a general consent they went to 
 drown themselves, out- of a feeling of their misery; but 
 when they saw a company of frogs more fearful than 
 they were, they began to take courage and comfort 
 again. Confer thine estate with others. Similes aliorum 
 respice casus, Mitius ista feres. Be content, and rest 
 satisfied, for thou art well in respect of others : be thank- 
 ful for that thou hast ; that God hath done for thee ; he 
 hath not made thee a monster, a beast, a base creature, 
 as he might ; but a Man, a Christian such a man. 
 Consider aright of it, thou art full well as thou art. 
 
 Burton, 
 
 FOR EVERY ILL BEXEATH THE SUN 
 
 THERE IS SOME REMEDY, OR NONE. 
 
 SHOULD THERE BE ONE, RESOLVE TO FIXD IT ; 
 
 IF NOT, SUBMIT, AND NEVER MIND IT. 

 
 INDEX. 
 
 Action and Aspiration, 403, 446. 
 
 ^Esthetics, 453. 
 
 Anger, 436. 
 
 Art, 443. 
 
 Atheism, 386, 448. 
 
 Avarice, 430. 
 
 Best in the Barrel, 383. 
 Building, 369. 
 
 Calling Choice of, 408. 
 Chivalry New, 374. 
 Content, 375, 444. 
 Conversation, &c., 376, 394. 
 Cure or Endure, 354. 
 Curiosity, 438. 
 
 Date and Dabitur, 416. 
 Diplomacy, 410. 
 Disputes, 424. 
 Dives, 372. 
 
 Eagles no Fly-catchers, 417. 
 
 Envy, 409. 
 
 Every-body's Fable, 351. 
 
 Expense, 407. 
 
 Eye what it Sees, 359. 
 
 Fame, 431. 
 
 Forgive and Forget, 362. 
 
 Forms and Ceremonies, 368. 
 
 of Behaviour, 423. 
 Found by one's Sin, 364. 
 Friendship, 428. 
 Fun in the Fiddle, 357. 
 
 Genius, 423. 
 
 Gentleman, 377, 378, 427. 
 Giving and Asking, 400. 
 Government Art of, 449. 
 Guile and Gxiilelessness, 388. 385. 
 Guilt, 397. 
 
 Handful of Arrows, 451. 
 Have at it, have it, 435. 
 History Eye for, 441. 
 Honesty, 356. 
 Humanity, 395. 
 Hypocrisy, 447. 
 
 Idleness, 369. 
 Ignotum Magniflcum, 436. 
 Imaginary Evils, 402. 
 Inconstancy, 362. 
 Indifference, 370. 
 
 [379. 
 
 Knowledge, Opinion, Ignorance, 
 and Half-knowledge, 370. 
 
 Lavater Chapter from, 389. 
 
 Learning, 390, 442. 
 
 Liberty, 397. 
 
 Life, 400. 
 
 Lighting the Torch, 432. 
 
 Looking-glass, 433. 
 
 Lot in Life, 455. 
 
 Love, 406. 
 
 Melancholy and Madness, 450. 
 Mercy and Valour, 354. 
 Mimicry, 392. 
 Modesty, 419. 
 Music, 422. 
 
 Native Air, 395. 
 Nature and Habit, 419. 
 
 Old Age, 387. 
 Oratory, 445. 
 
 Pedigree, 438. 
 Pegasus in Harness. 380. 
 Penny Wise. &c., 354. 
 Petit a Petit, 451. 
 Philosopher. 352.
 
 460 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Poetry, 396. 
 
 Polemics, 439. 
 
 Poor the, 362. 
 
 Poverty and Riches, 394, 407. 
 
 Power and Place, 351, 376, 361, 410. 
 
 Precedence, 401. 
 
 Prejudice, 421, 447. 
 
 Quid pro Quo, 433. 
 
 Religion, 424, 425. 
 River the Great, 365. 
 Rolling Stone, 427, 437. 
 
 Satiety, 388. 
 
 Say-Well and Do- Well, 443. 
 Second Thoughts, 454. 
 Seed-sowing, 357. 
 Self-Contemplation, 371. 
 
 Knowledge, 416. 
 
 Love, 420. 
 
 Judging of others, 420. 
 
 Isolation, 382. 
 Sickness, 410. 
 Socratis Paternoster, 399. 
 Solitude, 440. 
 Solomon's Seal, 433. 
 Soul is the Man, 431. 
 
 Studies, 426. 
 Superstition, 418. 
 
 Taste, 374. 
 Teaching, 411. 
 Three Races, 364, 434. 
 Time of Day, 440. 
 Thought-tossing, 450. 
 To-day and To-morrow, 384. 
 To-morrow and To-morrow, 365. 
 Tory, 412. 
 
 Touch Pitch , 440. 
 
 Travel, 381. 
 
 Truth and Justice, 407. 
 
 Vanity, 396, 446. 
 Vent au Visage, 401. 
 
 War, 405. 
 
 Weakness and Falsity, 368, 374. 
 
 Weight and Worth, 384. 
 
 Will and Reason, 393. 
 
 Will and Wish, 358. 
 
 Wit, 350, 388. 
 
 Words and Deeds, 378. 
 
 World we live in, 434. 
 
 World's Pulse, 373, 381. 
 
 Writing Well, 412.
 
 r 
 
 ESSAYS ON CRABBE.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO A VOLUME OF 
 
 READINGS IN CRABBE. 
 
 "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 [PUBLISHED BY BERNARD QUARITCH, LONDON; 1882.] 
 
 >>
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 OF THE HALL," says the Poet's son and 
 biographer, occupied his father during the years 
 1817, 1818, and were published by John Murray in the 
 following year under the present title, which he sug- 
 gested, instead of that of " Remembrances," which had 
 been originally proposed. 
 
 The plan and nature of the work are thus described 
 by the author himself in a letter written to his old 
 friend, Mary Leadbetter, and dated October 30, 1817 : 
 
 "I know not how to describe the new, and probably (most 
 probably) the last work I shall publish. Though a village is the 
 scene of meeting between my two principal characters, and gives 
 occasion to other characters and relations in general, yet I no 
 more describe the manners of village inhabitants. My people are 
 of superior classes, though not the most elevated ; and, with a 
 few exceptions, are of educated and cultivated minds and habits. 
 I do not know, on a general view, whether my tragic or lighter 
 Tales, etc., are most in number. Of those equally well executed, 
 the tragic will, I suppose, make the greater impression ; but I 
 know not that it requires more attention." 
 
 " The plan of the work," says Jeffrey, in a succinct, if not quite 
 exact, epitome "for it has more of plan and unity than any of 
 Mr. Crabbe's former productions is abundantly simple. Two 
 brothers, both past middle age, meet together for the first time 
 since their infancy, in the Hall of their native parish, which the 
 elder and richer had purchased as a place of retirement for his 
 declining age; and there tell each other their own history, and 
 then that of their guests, neighbours, and acquaintances. The 
 senior is much the richer, and a bachelor having been a little 
 
 80 
 
 >
 
 466 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 distasted with the sex by the unlucky result of a very extravagant 
 passion. He is, moreover, rather too reserved, and somewhat 
 Toryish, though with an excellent heart and a powerful under- 
 standing. The younger is very sensible also, but more open, 
 social, and talkative ; a happy husband and father, with a 
 tendency to Whiggism, and some notion of reform, and a dispo- 
 sition to think well both of men and women. The visit lasts two 
 or three weeks in autumn ; and the Tales are told in the after- 
 dinner tSte-d-tetes that take place in that time between the worthy 
 brothers over their bottle. 
 
 "The married man, however, wearies at length for his wife 
 and children; and his brother lets him go with more coldness 
 than he had expected. He goes with him a stage on the way ; 
 and, inviting him to turn aside a little to look at a new purchase 
 he had made of a sweet farm with a neat mansion, he finds his 
 wife and children comfortably settled there, and all ready to 
 receive them ; and speedily discovers that he is, by his brother's 
 bounty, the proprietor of a fair domain within a morning's ride of 
 the Hall, where they may discuss politics, and tell tales any 
 afternoon they may think proper." Eflinburgli Review, 1819. 
 
 The scene has also changed with Drama and Dramatis 
 Personae : no longer now the squalid purlieus of old, 
 inhabited by paupers and ruffians, with the sea on one 
 side, and as barren a heath on the other ; in place of 
 that, a village, with its tidy homestead and well-to-do 
 tenant, scattered about an ancient Hall, in a well- 
 wooded, well-watered, well-cultivated country, within 
 easy reach of a thriving country town, and 
 
 "West of the waves, and just beyond the sound," 
 
 of that old familiar sea, which (with all its sad associa- 
 tions) the Poet never liked to leave far behind him. 
 
 When he wrote the letter above quoted (two years 
 before the publication of his book) he knew not whether
 
 GBABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 467 
 
 his tragic exceeded the lighter stories in quantity, 
 though he supposed they would leave the deeper 
 impression on the reader. In the completed work I find 
 the tragic stories fewer in number, and. to my think- 
 ing, assuredly not more impressive than such as are 
 composed of that mingled yarn of grave and gay of 
 which the kind j)f life he treats of is, I suppose, gener- 
 ally made up. " Nature's sternest Painter" may have 
 mellowed with a prosperous old age, and, from a com- 
 fortable grand-climacteric, liked to contemplate and 
 represent a brighter aspect of humanity than his earlier 
 life afforded him. Anyhow, he has here selected a sub- 
 ject whose character and circumstance require a lighter 
 touch and shadow less dark than such as he formerly 
 delineated. 
 
 Those who now tell their own as well as their neigh- 
 bours' stories are much of the Poet's own age as well as 
 condition of life, and look back (as he may have looked) 
 with what Sir Walter Scott calls a kind of humorous 
 retrospect over their own lives, cheerfully extending to 
 others the same kindly indulgence which they solicit 
 for themselves. The book, if I mistake not, deals 
 rather with the follies than with the vices of men, with 
 the comedy rather than the tragedy of life. Assuredly 
 there is scarce anything of that brutal or sordid vil- 
 lainy 1 of which one has more than enough in the 
 
 1 1 think, only one story of the baser sort "Gretna Green" a 
 capital, if not agreeable, little drama in which all the characters 
 defeat themselves by the very means they take to deceive others.
 
 468 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 Poet's earlier work. And even the more sombre sub- 
 jects of the book are relieved by the colloquial inter- 
 course of the narrators, which twines about every story, 
 and, letting in occasional glimpses of the country 
 round, encircles them all with something of dramatic 
 unity and interest; insomuch that of all the Poet's 
 works this one alone does not leave a more or less 
 melancholy impression upon me ; and, as I am myself 
 more than old enough to love the sunny side of the 
 wall, is on that account, I do not say the best, but cer- 
 tainly that which best I like, of all his numerous 
 offspring. 
 
 Such, however, is not the case, I think, with Crabbe's 
 few readers, who, like Lord Byron, chiefly remember 
 him by the sterner realities of his earlier work. Nay, 
 quite recently Mr. Leslie Stephen, in that one of his 
 admirable essays which analyses the Poet's peculiar 
 genius, says : 
 
 " The more humorous portions of these performances may be 
 briefly dismissed. Crabbe possessed the faculty, but not in any 
 eminent degree ; his tramp is a little heavy, and one must remem- 
 ber that Mr. Tovell and his like were of the race who require to 
 have a joke driven into their heads by a sledge-hammer. Some- 
 times, indeed, we come upon a sketch which may help to explain 
 Miss Austen's admiration. There is an old maid devoted to china, 
 and rejoicing in stuffed parrots and puppies, who might have 
 been another Emma Woodhouse ; and a Parson who might have 
 suited the Eltons admirably." 
 
 The spinster of the stuffed parrot indicates, I sup- 
 pose, the heroine of " Procrastination " in another 
 series of tales. But Miss Austen, I think, might also
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 469 
 
 have admired another, although more sensible, spinster 
 in these, who tells of her girlish and only love while 
 living with the grandmother who maintained her gentil- 
 ity in the little town she lived in at the cost of such 
 little economies as " would scarce a parrot keep ; " and 
 the story of the romantic friend who, having proved 
 the vanity of human bliss by the supposed death of a 
 young lover, has devoted herself to his memory ; inso- 
 much that as she is one fine autumnal day protesting 
 in her garden that, were he to be restored to her in all 
 his youthful beauty, she would renounce the real rather 
 than surrender the ideal Hero awaiting her elsewhere 
 behold him advancing toward her in the person of a 
 prosperous, portly merchant, who reclaims, and, after 
 some little hesitation on her part, retains her hand. 
 
 There is also an old Bachelor whom Miss Austen 
 might have liked to hear recounting the matrimonial 
 attempts which have resulted in the full enjoyment of 
 single blessedness ; his father's sarcastic indifference to 
 the first, and the haughty defiance of the mother of the 
 girl he first loved. And when the young lady's un- 
 timely death has settled that question, his own indiffer- 
 ence to the bride his own mother has provided for him. 
 And when that scheme has failed, and yet another after 
 that, and the Bachelor feels himself secure in the con- 
 sciousness of more than middle life having come upon 
 him, his being captivated and jilted by a country 
 Miss, toward whom he is so imperceptibly drawn at her 
 father's house that 
 
 .
 
 470 CRABBE'S "TALES OP THE HALL." 
 
 " Time after time the maid went out and in, 
 Ere love was yet beginning to begin ; 
 The first awakening proof, the early doubt, 
 Rose from observing she went in and out." 
 
 Then there is a fair Widow, who, after wearing out 
 one husband with her ruinous tantrums, finds herself 
 all the happier for being denied them by a second. And 
 when he too is dead, and the probationary year of 
 mourning scarce expired, her scarce ambiguous refusal 
 (followed by acceptance) of a third suitor, for whom 
 she is now so gracefully wearing her weeds as to invite 
 a fourth. 
 
 If "Love's Delay" be of a graver complexion, is 
 there not some even graceful comedy in "Love's 
 Natural Death ; " some broad comedy too true to be 
 farce in "William Bailey's" old housekeeper; and 
 up and down the book surely many passages of gayer 
 or graver humour; such as the Squire's satire on his 
 own house and farm; his brother's account of the 
 Vicar, whose daughter he married ; the gallery of por- 
 traits in the " Cathedral Walk," besides many a shrewd 
 remark so tersely put that I should call them epigram 
 did not Mr. Stephen think the Poet incapable of such ; 
 others so covertly implied as to remind one of old John 
 Murray's remark on Mr. Crabbe's conversation that 
 he said uncommon things in so common a way as to 
 escape notice; though assuredly not the notice of so 
 shrewd an observer as Mr. Stephen if he cared to listen, 
 or to read.
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 471 
 
 Nevertheless, with all my own partiality for this 
 book, I must acknowledge that, while it shares with 
 the Poet's other works in his characteristic disregard 
 of form and diction of all indeed that is now called 
 "Art" it is yet more chargeable with diffuseness, 
 and even with some inconsistency of character and cir- 
 cumstance, for which the large canvas he had taken to 
 work on, and perhaps some weariness in filling it up, 1 
 may be in some measure accountable. So that, for one 
 reason or another, but very few of Crabbe's few readers 
 care to encounter the book. And hence this attempt 
 
 1 A Journal that he kept in 1817 shows that some part of the 
 book was composed, not in the leisurely quiet of his country 
 Parsonage, or the fields around it, but at the self-imposed rate of 
 thirty lines a day, in the intervals between the dejeuners, dinners, 
 and soirees of a London season, in which, "seeing much that 
 was new," he says: "I was perhaps something of a novelty 
 myself" was, in fact, the new lion in fashion. 
 
 "Julyo. My thirty lines done, but not very well, I fear. 
 Thirty daily is the self-engagement. 
 
 "JnJyS. Thirty lines to-day, but not yesterday. Must 
 work up. 
 
 " July 10. Make up my thirty lines for yesterday and to-day. 
 
 " Sunday, July 15 (after a sermon at St. James's, in which the 
 preacher thought proper to apologise for a severity which he had 
 not used). Write some lines in the solitude of Somerset House, 
 not fifty yards from the Thames on one side, and the Strand on 
 the other ; but as quiet as the sands of Arabia.'' 
 
 Then leaving London for his Trowbridge home, and staying by 
 the way at the home of a friend near "Wycombe 
 
 " July 23. A vile engagement to an Oratorio at the church by 
 I know not how many noisy people, women as well as men. 
 Luckily, I sat where I could write unobserved, and wrote forty 
 liues, only interrupted by a song of Mrs. Brand (Bland.') ;! 
 hymn, I believe. It was less doleful than the rest/'
 
 472 GRABBERS "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 of mine to entice them to it by an abstract, omitting 
 some of the stories, retrenching others, either by 
 excision of some parts, or the reduction of others into 
 as concise prose as would comprehend the substance of 
 much prosaic verse. 
 
 Not a very satisfactory sort of medley in any such 
 case; I know not if more or less so where verse and 
 prose are often so near akin. I see, too; that in some 
 cases they are too patchily intermingled. But I have 
 tried, though not always successfully, to keep them 
 distinct, and to let the Poet run on by himself when- 
 ever in his better vein; in two cases that of the 
 " Widow" and " Love's Natural Death " without any 
 interruption of my own, though not without large 
 deductions from the author in the former story. 
 
 On the other hand, more than as many other stories 
 have shrunk under my hands into seeming dispropor- 
 tion with the Prologue by which the Poet introduces 
 them ; insomuch as they might almost as well have 
 been cancelled were it not for carrying their introduc- 
 tion away with them. 1 
 
 And such alterations have occasionally necessitated 
 a change in some initial article or particle connecting 
 two originally separated paragraphs ; of which I sub- 
 join a list, as also of a few that have inadvertently 
 crept into the text from the margin of my copy ; all, I 
 
 1 As " Eiehard's Jealousy," "Sir Owen Dale's Revenge," the 
 "Cathedral Walk," in which the Poet's diffuse treatment seemed 
 to me scarcely compensated by the interest of the story.
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 473 
 
 thought, crossed out before going to press.i For any 
 poetaster can amend many a careless expression which 
 blemishes a passage that none but a poet could indite. 
 
 I have occasionally transposed the original text, 
 especially when I thought to make the narrative run 
 clearer by so doing. For in that respect, whether from 
 lack or laxity of constructive skill, Crabbe is apt to 
 wander and lose himself and his reader. This was 
 shown especially in some prose novels, which at one time 
 he tried his hand on, and (his son tells us), under good 
 advice, committed to the fire. 
 
 I have replaced in the text some readings from the 
 Poet's original MS. quoted in his son's standard edition, 
 several of which appeared to me fresher, terser, and (as 
 
 1 Page 28. " Sounds too delight us." 
 
 " 36. "Neither after-time nor adventure," etc. 
 
 " 40. " And some sad story appertained to each." 
 
 " 41. " Nor had a husband for licr only son." 
 
 " 42. "Her will self-goverii'd, and Mwtask'd." 
 
 " 46. "Rolled o'er lier body as she lay," etc. 
 
 " 56. " (Prose.) " Two ladies walking arm in arm," etc. 
 
 " 75. " When time and reason our affliction heal." 
 
 " 76. "In-ill be brief," etc. 
 
 " 76. " Tinniest thou that meekness, self," etc. 
 
 " 87. " Begins to exert her salutary influence." 
 
 " 92. " Vfejudf/e, the heroic men of whom we read." 
 
 ' 93. "But irliat could urge me at a day so late." 
 
 " 96. " Then fairly gare the secret of her heart." 
 
 " 108. " Or mine had been my gentle Mattie now." 
 
 " 116. " I had some pity and I soutjlit the price." 
 
 " 133. "Would make such faces and assume such looks." 
 
 " 214. "Told him lie pardon'd, though he blamed such 
 
 rage." 
 
 " 218. " He entered softly." 
 

 
 474 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 so often the case) more apt than the second thought 
 afterward adopted. 1 
 
 Mr. Stephen has said and surely said well that, 
 with all its short- and long-comings, Crabbe's better 
 work leaves its mark on the reader's mind and memory 
 as only the work of genius can, while so many a more 
 splendid vision of the fancy slips away, leaving scarce 
 a w r rack behind. If this abiding impression result (as 
 perhaps in the case of Richardson or Wordsworth) 
 from being, as it were, soaked in through the longer 
 process by which the man's peculiar genius works, any 
 abridgment, whether of omission or epitome, will 
 diminish from the effect of the whole. But, on the other 
 hand, it may serve, as I have said, to attract a reader 
 to an original which, as appears in this case, scarce 
 anybody now cares to venture upon in its integrity. 
 
 I feel bound to make all apology for thus dealing 
 with a Poet whose works are ignored, even if his name 
 be known, by the readers and writers of the present 
 generation. " Pope in worsted stockings" he once was 
 called ; and those stockings, it must be admitted, often 
 down at heel, and begrimed by many a visit among 
 the dreary resorts of "pauvre et triste Immanlti" And 
 
 1 A curious instance occurs in that fair Widow's story, when the 
 original 
 
 " Would you believe it, Richard, that fair she 
 
 Has had three husbands I repeat it, three ! " 
 is supplanted by the very enigmatical couplet : 
 
 "Would you believe it, Richard? that fair dame 
 Has thrice resign'd and reassumed her name."
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 475 
 
 if Pope, in his silken court suit, scarcely finds admit- 
 tance to the modern Parnassus, how shall Crabbe with 
 his homely gear and awkwarder gait? Why had he 
 not kept to level prose, more suitable, some think, to 
 the subject he treats of, and to his own genius ? As to 
 subject, Pope, who said that Man was man's proper 
 study, treated of finer folks indeed, but not a whit 
 more or less than men and women, nor the more life- 
 like for the compliment or satire with which he set 
 them off. And, for the manner, he and Horace in his 
 Epistles and Satires, and the comedy-writers of Greece, 
 Rome, Spain, and France, availed themselves of Verse, 
 through which (and especially when clenched with 
 rhyme) the condensed expression, according to Mon- 
 taigne, rings out as breath through a trumpet. I do 
 not say that Comedy (whose Dramatic form Crabbe 
 never aimed at) was in any wise his special vocation, 
 though its shrewder not to say, saturnine element 
 runs through all except his earliest work, and some- 
 what of its lighter humour is revealed in his last. 
 And, if Verse has been the chosen organ of Comedy 
 proper, it assuredly cannot be less suitable for the 
 expression of those more serious passions of which 
 this Poet most generally treats, and which are nowhere 
 more absolutely developed than amid the classes of men 
 with which he had been so largely interested. And 
 whatever one may think Crabbe makes of it, verse was 
 the mode of utterance to which his genius led him 
 from first to last (his attempt at prose having failed) ; 
 
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 171
 
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 476 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 
 
 and if we are to have him at all, we must take him in 
 his own way. 
 
 Is he then, whatever shape he may take, worth mak- 
 ing room for in our overcrowded heads and libraries ? 
 If the verdict of such critics as Jeffrey and Wilson be 
 set down to contemporary partiality or inferior 
 " culture/' there is Miss Austen, who is now so great 
 an authority in the representation of genteel humanity, 
 so unaccountably smitten with Crabbe in his worsted 
 hose that she is said to have pleasantly declared he 
 was the only man whom she would care to marry. 1 If 
 Sir Walter Scott and Byron are but unsesthetic judges 
 of the Poet, there is Wordsworth, who was sufficiently 
 exclusive in admitting any to the sacred brotherhood 
 in which he still reigns, and far too honest to make 
 any exception out of compliment to anyone on any 
 occasion he did, nevertheless, thus write to the 
 Poet's son and biographer in 1834 : 2 "Any testimony 
 to the merit of your revered father's works would, I 
 feel, be superfluous, if not impertinent. They will last, 
 from their combined merits as poetry and truth, full as 
 long as anything that has been expressed in verse since 
 they first made their appearance " a period which, be 
 it noted, includes all Wordsworth's own volumes 
 except " Yarrow Revisited," " The Prelude,' 1 and " The 
 
 1 1 will add what, in his lately published " Kemmiseences," Mr. 
 Mozley tells us, that Crabbe was a favourite with no less shrewd a 
 reader of Humanity than Cardinal Newman. 
 
 2 See Vol. II., p. 8-4. of the complete Edition, 1834.
 
 CRABBE'S "TALES OF THE HALL." 477 
 
 Borderers." And Wordsworth's living successor to the 
 laurel no less participates with him in his appreciation 
 of their forgotten brother. Almost the last time I met 
 him he was quoting from memory that fine passage in 
 " Delay has Danger/' where the late autumn landscape 
 seems to borrow from the conscience-stricken lover 
 who gazes on it the gloom which it reflects upon him ; 
 and in the Qourse of further conversation on the subject, 
 Mr. Tennyson added, " Crabbe has a world of his 
 own ; " by virtue of that original genius, I suppose, 
 which is said to entitle, and carry, the possessor to 
 what we call Immortality.
 
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