LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 vv 'w- 
 
 Class 
 
 lyss^ 
 
THE ISLAND RACE 
 
THE ISLAND RACE 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY NEWBOLT 
 
 V 
 
 OF THF A 
 
 UNIVERSITY I 
 
 OF 
 
 £ai iroR>!Abf 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET 
 
 I 898 
 

 Copyright in America 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
TO 
 
 ROBERT BRIDGES 
 
 158440 
 
Of the forty pieces in this volume, twelve were 
 published in 1897 under the title of "Admirals All." 
 Of the remaining twenty-eight many have appeared in 
 the periodicals enumerated below : none were written 
 earher than "Admirals All." The thanks of the 
 Author for permission to reprint are due to the Editors 
 of Longman's Magazine, the Spectator, the Daily 
 Chronicle, the St. James's Gazette, the Saturday 
 Review, the Pall Mall Magazine, the lVi?tdsor Maga- 
 zine, the Pall Mall Gazette, the Speaker, the Outlook, 
 and the AthencBum. 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGK- 
 
 The Vigil I 
 
 Admiral Death - - 4 
 
 The Quarter Gunner's Yarn 7 
 
 For a Trafalgar Cenotaph - - - - - - 12 
 
 Craven '3 
 
 Messmates ^^ 
 
 The Death of Admiral Blake 18 
 
 V« Victis 21 
 
 Minora Sidera 25 
 
 Laudabunt Alii ^7 
 
 San Stefano 3° 
 
Vlll CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ilawke 34 
 
 The Fighting T^meraire 36 
 
 Drake's Drum --40 
 
 Admirals All 42 
 
 Gillespie - - 46 
 
 Seringapatam 50 
 
 A Ballad of John Nicholson 55 
 
 The Guides at Cabul, 1879 61 
 
 The Gay Gordons • - - • - - - 65 
 
 He Fell Among Thieves 67 
 
 lonicus 71 
 
 The Non-Combatant 73 
 
 Clifton Chapel 75 
 
 England 78 
 
 The Echo 79 
 
 Vital Lampada 81 
 
 A Song of Exmoor 83 
 
 Fidele's Grassy Tomb - 87 
 
 Gavotte - - • - 92 
 
 Imogen - - 94 
 
 Nel Mezzo del Cammin 96 
 
CONTENTS IX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Invasion 97 
 
 Pereunt et Imputantur 100 
 
 Felix Antonius 102 
 
 The Last Word 104 
 
 Ireland, Ireland 108 
 
 Moonset 109 
 
 Hymn m 
 
 The Building of the Temple 113 
 
 Notes 118 
 
O STRENGTH DIVINE OF ROMAN DAYS, 
 
 O SPIRIT OF THE AGE OF FAITH, 
 GO WITH OUR SONS ON ALL THEIR WAYS, 
 
 WHEN WE LONG SINCE ARE DUST AND WRAITH. 
 
The Vigil 
 
 England ! where the sacred flame 
 Burns before the inmost shrine, 
 Where the lips that love thy name 
 
 Consecrate their hopes and thine, 
 Where the banners of thy dead 
 Weave their shadows overhead, 
 Watch beside thine arms to-night, 
 Pray that God defend the Right. 
 
 B 
 
THE VIGIL 
 
 Think that when to-morrow comes 
 
 War shall claim command of all, 
 
 Thou must hear the roll of drums, 
 
 Thou must hear the trumpet's call. 
 Now, before they silence ruth, 
 Commune with the voice of truth ; 
 England ! on thy knees to-night 
 Pray that God defend the Right. 
 
 Hast thou counted up the cost, 
 What to foeman, what to friend ? 
 
 Glory sought is Honour lost, 
 How should this be knighthood's end ? 
 
 Know'st thou what is Hatred's meed ? 
 
 What the surest gain of Greed ? 
 
 England ! wilt thou dare to-night 
 
 Pray that God defend the Right ? 
 
THE VIGIL 
 
 Single-hearted, unafraid, 
 
 Hither all thy heroes came, 
 On this altar's steps were laid 
 
 Gordon's Hfe and Outram's fame. 
 England ! if thy will be yet 
 By their great example set. 
 Here beside thine arms to-night 
 Pray that God defend the Right. 
 
 So shalt thou when morning comes 
 
 Rise to conquer or to fall, 
 Joyful hear the rolling drums, 
 
 Joyful hear the trumpets call. 
 Then let Memory tell thy heart ; 
 " England ! what thou wevty thou art ! ' 
 Gird thee with thine ancient might, 
 Forth ! and God defend the Right ! 
 
Admiral Death 
 
 Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night ? 
 
 (Hear what the sea- wind saith) 
 Fill for a bumper strong and bright, 
 
 And here's to Admiral Death ! 
 He's sailed in a hundred builds o' boat, 
 He's fought in a thousand kinds o' coat, 
 He's the senior flag of all that float, 
 
 And his name's Admiral Death. 
 
ADMIRAL DEATH 
 
 Which of you looks for a service free ? 
 
 (Hear what the sea-wind saith) f 
 The rules o' the service are but three 
 
 When ye sail with Admiral Death, 
 Steady your hand in time o' squalls, 
 Stand to the last by him that falls, 
 And answer clear to the voice that calls, 
 
 " Ay, Ay ! Admiral Death ! " 
 
 How will ye know him among the rest ? 
 
 (Hear what the sea- wind saith) 
 By the glint o' the stars that cover his breast 
 
 Ye may find Admiral Death. 
 By the forehead grim with an ancient scar, 
 By the voice that rolls like thunder far, 
 By the tenderest eyes of all that are, 
 
 Ye may know Admiral Death, 
 
ADMIRAL DEATH 
 
 Where are the lads that sailed before ? 
 
 (Hear what the sea- wind saith) 
 Their bones are white by many a shore, 
 
 They sleep with Admiral Death. 
 Oh ! but they loved him, young and old, 
 For he left the laggard, and took the bold. 
 And the fight was fought, and the story's told, 
 
 And they sleep with Admiral Death. 
 
The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn 
 
 We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode 
 With one anchor catted and freshwater stowed ; 
 When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared, 
 For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard. 
 
 Our Captain was Hardy, the pride of us all, 
 I'll ask for none better when danger shall call, 
 He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name, 
 And soon by his conduct to honour he came. 
 
8 THE quarter-gunner's YARN 
 
 The third day the Lizard was under our lee, 
 Where the Ajax and Thunderer joined us at sea, 
 But what with foul weather and tacking about, 
 When we sighted the Fleet we were thirteen days out. 
 
 The Captains they all came aboard quick enough, 
 But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff ; 
 So backward an enemy never was seen, 
 They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Marine. 
 
 The lubbers had hare's lugs where seamen have ears, 
 So we stowed all saluting and smothered our cheers. 
 And to humour their stomachs and tempt them to dine 
 In the offing we showed them but six of the line. 
 
 One morning the topmen reported below 
 The old Agamemnon escaped from the foe ; 
 Says Nelson " My lads, there'll be honour for some, 
 For we're sure of a battle now Berry has come." 
 
THE QUARTER-GUNNERS YARN 9 
 
 " Up hammocks ! " at last cried the bo* sun at dawn ; 
 The guns were cast loose and the tompions drawn ; 
 The gunner was bustling the shotracks to fill, 
 And " All hands to quarters " was piped with a will. 
 
 We now saw the enemy bearing ahead, 
 And to East of them Cape Traflagar.it was said ; 
 'Tis a name we remember from father to son, 
 That the days of old England may never be done. 
 
 The Victory led, to her flag it was due, 
 Tho* the T^m^raires thought themselves Admirals too. 
 But Lord Nelson he hailed them with masterful grace, 
 ** Cap*n Harvey, I'll thank you to keep in your place." 
 
 To begin with we closed the Bucentaure alone, 
 An eighty-gun ship, and their Admiral's own, 
 We raked her but once, and the rest of the day 
 Like a hospital hulk on the water she lay. 
 
 Or thv ^" ^ 
 
lO THE QUARTER-GUNNERS YARN 
 
 To our battering next the Redoubtable struck, 
 
 But her sharpshooters gave us the worst of the luck, 
 
 Lord Nelson was wounded most cruel to tell, 
 
 *• They've done for me, Hardy," he cried as he fell. 
 
 To the cockpit in silence they carried him past. 
 And sad were the looks that were after him cast, 
 His face with a kerchief he tried to conceal. 
 But we knew him too well from the truck to the keel. 
 
 When the Captain reported a victory won, 
 " Thank God ! " he kept saying, *' my duty Fve done." 
 At last came the moment to kiss him good-bye, 
 And the Captain for once had the salt in his eye. 
 
 "Now anchor, dear Hardy," the Admiral cried, 
 But before we could make it he fainted and died ; 
 All night in the trough of the sea we were tossed. 
 And for want of groundtackle good prizes were lost. 
 
THE QUARTER-GUNNER S YARN I I 
 
 Then we hauled down the flag, at the fore it was red, 
 And blue at the mizzen was hoisted instead 
 By Nelson's famed Captain, the pride of each tar. 
 Who fought in the Victory off Cape Traflagar. 
 
For a Trafalgar Cenotaph 
 
 Lover of England, stand awhile and gaze 
 With thankful heart, and lips refrained from praise 
 They rest beyond the speech of human pride 
 Who served with Nelson and with Nelson died. 
 
Craven 
 
 (Mobile Bay, 1864.) 
 
 Over the turret, shut in his ironclad tower, 
 Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame ; 
 
 Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour. 
 Now was the time for a charge to end the game. 
 
 There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim, 
 A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign ; 
 
 There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim 
 The flag was flying, and he was head of the line. 
 
14 CRAVEN 
 
 The fleet behind was jamming ; the monitor hung 
 
 Beating the stream ; the roar for a moment hushed ; 
 Craven spoke to the pilot ; slow she swung ; 
 
 Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed. 
 
 Into the narrowing channel, between the shore 
 And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank ; 
 
 She turned but a yard too short ; a muffled roar, 
 A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank. 
 
 Over the manhole, up in the ironclad tower, 
 Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly : 
 
 The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour, 
 For one could pass to be saved, and one must die. 
 
 They stood like men in a dream : Craven spoke. 
 
 Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride, 
 
 " After you. Pilot : " the pilot woke, 
 Down the ladder he went, and Craven died. 
 
CRAVEN 15 
 
 All men praise the deed and the manner ^ but we — 
 
 V/e set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud. 
 
 The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free ^ 
 The grace of the empty hands and promises loud : 
 
 Sidney thirsting a humbler need to slake, 
 Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand, 
 
 Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sahe^ 
 Outram coveting right before command, 
 
 These were paladins, these were Craven's peers. 
 These with him shall be crowned in story and song. 
 
 Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears, 
 Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud and strong. 
 
Messmates 
 
 He gave us all a good-bye cheerily 
 
 At the first dawn of day; 
 We dropped him down the side full drearily 
 
 When the light died away. 
 It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there, 
 And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there. 
 Where the Trades and the tides roll over him 
 
 And the great ships go by. 
 
MESSMATES 1 7 
 
 He's there alone with green seas rocking him 
 
 For a thousand miles round ; 
 He's there alone with dumb things mocking him, 
 
 And we're homeward bound. 
 It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there. 
 And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there, 
 While the months and the years roll over him 
 
 And the great ships go by. 
 
 I wonder if the tramps come near enough 
 
 As they thrash to and fro, 
 And the battle-ships bells ring clear enough 
 
 To be heard down below ; 
 If through all the lone watch that he's a-keeping there 
 And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there 
 The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him 
 
 When the great ships go by. 
 
The Death of Admiral Blake 
 
 (August 17TH, 1657) 
 
 Laden with spoil of the South, fulfilled with the glory 
 of achievement, 
 
 And freshly crowned with never-dying fame. 
 
 Sweeping by shores where the names are the names of 
 the victories of England, 
 
 Across the Bay the squadron homeward came. 
 
 Proudly they came, but their pride was the pomp of a 
 funeral at midnight. 
 
 When dreader yet the lonely morrow looms ; 
 
 Few are the words that are spoken, and faces are gaunt 
 beneath the torchlight 
 
 That does but darken more the nodding plumes. 
 
THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL BLAKE 1 9 
 
 Low on the field of his fame, past hope lay the Admiral 
 triumphant, 
 
 And fain to rest him after all his pain ; 
 
 Yet for the love that he bore to his own land, ever 
 unforgotten, 
 
 He prayed to see the Western hills again. 
 
 Fainter than stars in a sky long gray with the coming of 
 the daybreak, 
 
 Or sounds of night that fade when night is done, 
 
 So in the death-dawn faded the splendour and loud renown 
 of warfare, 
 
 And life of all its longings kept but one. 
 
 " Oh ! to be there for an hour when the shade draws in 
 beside the hedgerows, 
 
 And falling apples wake the drowsy noon : 
 
 Oh ! for the hour when the elms grow sombre and human 
 in the twilight, 
 
 And gardens dream beneath the rising moon. 
 
 C~2 
 
20 THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL BLAKE 
 
 *' Only to look once more on the land of the memories 
 of childhood, 
 
 Forgetting weary winds and barren foam : 
 
 Only to bid farewell to the combe and the orchard and 
 the moorland, 
 
 And sleep at last among the fields of home ! " 
 
 So he was silently praying, till now, when his strength 
 was ebbing faster, 
 
 The Lizard lay before them faintly blue ; 
 
 Now on the gleaming horizon the white cliffs laughed 
 along the coast-line. 
 
 And now the forelands took the shapes they knew. 
 
 There lay the Sound and the Island with green leaves 
 down beside the water, 
 
 The town, the Hoe, the masts, with sunset fired — 
 
 Dreams ! . ay, dreams of the dead ! for the great heart 
 faltered on the threshold. 
 
 And darkness took the land his soul desired. 
 
Vae Victis 
 
 Beside the placid sea that mirrored her 
 
 With the old glory of dawn that cannot die, 
 The sleeping city began to moan and stir, 
 
 As one that fain from an ill dream would fly ; 
 
 Yet more she feared the daylight bringing nigh 
 Such dreams as know not sunrise, soon or late, — 
 
 Visions of honour lost and power gone by, 
 
 Of loyal valour betrayed by facftious hate. 
 
 And craven sloth that shrank from the labour of forging 
 fate. 
 
2 2 YJE VICTIS 
 
 They knew and knew not, this bewildered crowd 
 That up her streets in silence hurrying passed, 
 
 What manner of death should make their anguish loud, 
 What corpse across the funeral pyre be cast. 
 For none had spoken it ; only, gathering fast 
 
 As darkness gathers at noon in the sun's eclipse, 
 A shadow of doom enfolded them, vague and vast, 
 
 And a cry was heard, unfathered of earthly lips, 
 
 *' What of the ships, O Carthage? Carthage, what of 
 the ships ? '* 
 
 They reached the wall, and nowise strange it seemed 
 
 To find the gates unguarded and open wide ; 
 
 They climbed the shoulder, and meet enough they 
 deemed 
 
 The black that shrouded the seaward rampart's side 
 
 And veiled in drooping gloom the turrets' pride ; 
 
 But this was nought, for suddenly down the slope 
 They saw the harbour, and sense within them died ; 
 
 Keel nor mast was there, rudder nor rope ; 
 It lay like a sea-hawk's eyry spoiled of life and hope. 
 
yjE vicTis 23 
 
 Beyond, where dawn was a glittering carpet, rolled 
 From sky to shore on level and endless seas. 
 
 Hardly their eyes discerned in a dazzle of gold 
 That here in fifties, yonder in twos and threes, 
 The ships they sought, like a swarm of drowning bees 
 
 By a wanton gust on the pool of a mill-dam hurled, 
 Floated forsaken of life-giving tide and breeze, 
 
 Their oars broken, their sails for ever furled. 
 
 For ever deserted the bulwarks that guarded the wealth 
 of the world. 
 
 A moment yet, with breathing quickly drawn 
 And hands agrip, the Carthaginian folk 
 
 Stared in the bright untroubled face of dawn. 
 
 And strove with vehement heaped denial to choke 
 Their sure surmise of fate's impending stroke ; 
 
 Vainly — for even now beneath their gaze 
 A thousand delicate spires of distant smoke 
 
 Reddened the disc of the sun with a stealthy haze, 
 
 And the smouldering grief of a nation burst with the 
 kindling blaze. 
 
24 V/E VICTIS 
 
 " O dying Carthage ! " so their passion raved, 
 
 " Would nought but these the conqueror's hate 
 assuage ? 
 
 If these be taken, how may the land be saved 
 Whose meat and drink was empire, age by age ? " 
 And bitter memory cursed with idle rage 
 
 The greed that coveted gold above renown. 
 The feeble hearts that feared their heritage, 
 
 The hands that cast the sea-kings' sceptre down 
 And left to alien brows their famed ancestral crown. 
 
 The endless noon, the endless evening through, 
 
 All other needs forgetting, great or small. 
 They drank despair with thirst whose torment grew 
 
 As the hours died beneath that stifling pall. 
 
 At last they saw the fires to blackness fall 
 One after one, and slowly turned them home, 
 
 A little longer yet their own to call 
 A city enslaved, and wear the bonds of Rome, 
 With weary hearts foreboding all the woe to come. 
 
Minora Sidera 
 
 (the dictionary of national biography) 
 
 Sitting at times over a hearth that burns 
 
 With dull domestic glow, 
 My thought, leaving the book, gratefully turns 
 
 To you who planned it so. 
 
 Not of the great only you deigned to tell — 
 
 The stars by which we steer — 
 But lights out of the night that flashed, and fell 
 
 To night again, are here 
 
26 MINORA SIDERA 
 
 Such as were those, dogs of an elder day, 
 
 Who sacked the golden ports, 
 And those later who dared grapple their prey 
 
 Beneath the harbour forts : 
 
 Some with flag at the fore, sweeping the world 
 
 To find an equal fight, 
 And some who joined war to their trade, and hurled 
 
 Ships of the line in flight. 
 
 Whether their fame centuries long should ring 
 
 They cared not over-much, 
 But cared greatly to serve God and the king, 
 
 And keep the Nelson touch ; 
 
 And fought to build Britain above the tide 
 
 Of wars and windy fate ; 
 And passed content, leaving to us the pride 
 
 Of lives obscurely great. 
 
Laudabunt Alii 
 
 (After Horace) 
 
 Let others praise, as fancy wills, 
 
 Berlin beneath her trees, 
 Or Rome upon her seven hills, 
 
 Or Venice by her seas ; 
 Stamboul by double tides embraced, 
 Or green Damascus in the waste. 
 
28 LAUDABUNT ALII 
 
 For me there's nought I would not leave 
 
 For the good Devon land, 
 Whose orchards down the echoing cleeve 
 
 Bedewed with spray-drift stand, 
 And hardly bear the red fruit up 
 That shall be next year's cider-cup. 
 
 You too, my friend, may wisely mark 
 How clear skies follow rain. 
 
 And, lingering in your own green park 
 Or drilled on Laflfan's Plain, 
 
 Forget not with the festal bowl 
 
 To soothe at times your weary soul. 
 
 When Drake must bid to Plymouth Hoe 
 
 Good-bye for many a day. 
 And some were sad that feared to go, 
 
 And some that dared not stay, 
 
LAUDABUNT ALII 29 
 
 Be sure he bade them broach the best, 
 And raised his tankard with the rest. 
 
 " Drake's luck to all that sail with Drake 
 
 For promised lands of gold ! 
 Brave lads, whatever storms may break, 
 
 We've weathered worse of old ! 
 To-night the loving-cup we'll drain. 
 To-morrow for the Spanish Main ! " 
 
San Stefano 
 
 A Ballad of the Bold " Menelaus " 
 
 It was morning at St. Helen's, in the great and gallant 
 days, 
 
 And the sea beneath the sun glittered wide, 
 
 When the frigate set her courses, all a-shimmer in the 
 haze. 
 
 And she hauled her cable home and took the tide. 
 
 She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and 
 more. 
 
 Nine and forty guns in tackle running free ; 
 
 And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at 
 the fore. 
 
 When the bold Menelaus put to sea. 
 
SAN STEFANO 3 1 
 
 She'd a right fighting company ^ three hundred men and morey 
 
 Nine and forty guns in tackle running free ; 
 And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore^ 
 When the hold Menelaus put to sea. 
 
 She was clear of Monte Cristo, she was heading for the 
 land, 
 
 When she spied a pennant red and white and blue ; 
 
 They were foemen, and they knew it, and they'd half a 
 league in hand. 
 
 But she flung aloft her royals, and she flew. 
 
 She was nearer, nearer, nearer, they were caught beyond 
 a doubt, 
 
 But they slipped her, into Orbetello Bay, 
 
 And the lubbers gave a shout as they paid their cables 
 out. 
 
 With the guns grinning round them where they lay. 
 
 Now Sir Peter was a captain of a famous fighting race. 
 Son and grandson of an admiral was he ; 
 
32 SAN STEFANO 
 
 And he looked upon the batteries, he looked upon the 
 chase, 
 
 And he heard the shout that echoed out to sea. 
 
 And he called across the decks, ** Ay ! the cheering might 
 be late 
 
 If they kept it till the Menelaus runs ; 
 
 Bid the master and his mate heave the lead and lay her 
 straight 
 
 For the prize lying yonder by the guns." 
 
 When the summer moon was setting, into Orbetello Bay 
 
 Came the Metielatis gliding like a ghost : 
 
 And her boats were manned in silence, and in silence 
 pulled away, 
 
 And in silence every gunner took his post. 
 
 With a volley from her broadside the citadel she woke, 
 
 And they hammered back like heroes all the night ; 
 
 But before the morning broke she had vanished through 
 the smoke 
 
 With her prize upon her quarter grappled tight. 
 
SAN STEFANO 33 
 
 It was evening at St. Helen's, in the great and gallant time, 
 
 And the sky behind the down was flushing far ; 
 
 And the flags were all a-flutter, and the bells were all 
 a-chime, 
 
 When the frigate cast her anchor off the bar. 
 
 She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and 
 more, 
 
 Nine and forty guns in tackle running free ; 
 
 And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at 
 the fore, 
 
 When the bold Menelaus came from sea. 
 
 She'd a right fighting company ^ three hundred men and more^ 
 
 Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; 
 A nd they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the forCy 
 
 When the bold Menelaus came from sea. 
 
Hawke 
 
 In seventeen hundred and fifty-nine, 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West, 
 
 The French King's Admiral with twenty of the line, 
 
 Was sailing forth, to sack us, out of Brest. 
 
 The ports of France were crowded, the quays of France 
 a-hum 
 
 With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the drum ; 
 
 For bragging time was over and fighting time was come 
 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West. 
 
HAWKE 35 
 
 'Twas long past noon of a wild November day 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West ; 
 
 He heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon Bay, 
 But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast. 
 
 Down upon the quicksands roaring out of sight 
 
 Fiercely beat the storm-wind, darkly fell the night, 
 
 But they took the foe for pilot and the cannon's glare 
 for light 
 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West. 
 
 The Frenchmen turned like a covey down the wind 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West ; 
 
 One he sank with all hands, one he caught and pinned, 
 
 And the shallows and the storm took the rest. 
 
 The guns that should have conquered us they rusted on 
 the shore, 
 
 The men that would have mastered us they drummed 
 and marched no more, 
 
 For England was England, and a mighty brood she bore 
 
 When Hawke came swooping from the West. 
 
 D — 2 
 
The Fighting Tdm^raire 
 
 It was eight bells ringing, 
 
 For the morning watch was done, 
 And the gunner's lads were singing. 
 
 As they polished every gun. 
 It was eight bells ringing, 
 And the gunner's lads were singing 
 For the ship she rode a-swinging, 
 
 As they polished every gun. 
 
THE FIGHTING T:feM]fcRAIRE 37 
 
 Oh ! to see the linstock lighting ^ 
 
 Temeraire! Temeraire! 
 Oh ! to hear the round shot bitingi 
 
 Temeraire ! Temeraire ! 
 Oh / to see the linstock lighting, 
 And to hear the round shot biting. 
 For weWe all in love with fighting 
 
 On the Fighting Temeraire. 
 
 It was noontide ringing, 
 And the battle just begun, 
 
 When the ship her way was winging, 
 As they loaded every gun. 
 
 It was noontide ringing 
 
 When the ship her way was winging, 
 
 And the gunner's lads were singing 
 As they loaded every gun. 
 
38 THE FIGHTING TiM^RAIRE 
 
 There'll be many grim and gory, 
 
 T^meraire ! Tthneraire / 
 Therein be few to tell the story, 
 
 Temeraire / Temeraire / 
 ThereHl be many grim and gory. 
 There'll be few to tell the story , 
 But we'll all be one in glory 
 With the Fighting Temeraire. 
 
 There's a far bell ringing 
 
 At the setting of the sun, 
 And a phantom voice is singing 
 
 Of the great days done. 
 There's a far bell ringing, 
 And a phantom voice is singing 
 Of renown for ever clinging 
 To the great days done. 
 
THE FIGHTING T:feMiRAIRE 39 
 
 Now the sunset breezes shiver, 
 
 Temeraive I Temeraire / 
 And she* s fading down the river, 
 
 Temeraive I Temeyaire / 
 Now the sunset breezes shiver^ 
 And she's fading down the river, 
 But in England's song for ever 
 
 She's the Fighting Thneraire, 
 
Drakes Drum 
 
 Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away, 
 
 (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?) 
 Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, 
 
 An' dreamin' arl the time o* Plymouth Hoe. 
 Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships, 
 
 Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe, 
 An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', 
 
 He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. 
 
jV£RSiTY 
 
 or 
 
 drake's drum 41 
 
 Drake he was a Devon man, an' riiled the Devon seas, 
 
 (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?), 
 Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, 
 
 An' dreamin* arl the time o* Plymouth Hoe. 
 " Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore. 
 
 Strike et when your powder's runnin' low ; 
 
 If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, 
 
 An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them 
 long ago." 
 
 Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, 
 
 (Capten, art tha sleepin* there below ?), 
 Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum. 
 
 An' dreamin' arl the time o* Plymouth Hoe. 
 Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, 
 
 Call him when ye sail to meet the foe ; 
 
 Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin' 
 
 They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found 
 him long ago ! 
 
Admirals All 
 
 Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake, 
 
 Here's to the bold and free ! 
 Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake, 
 
 Hail to the Kings of the Sea ! 
 Admirals all, for England's sake. 
 
 Honour be yours and fame ! 
 And honour, as long as waves shall break, 
 
 To Nelson's peerless name ! 
 
 Admirals all ^ for England's sake. 
 Honour be yours and fame / 
 
 A nd honour f as long as waves shall break, 
 To Nelson's peerless name / 
 
ADMIRALS ALL 43 
 
 Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay 
 
 With the galleons fair in sight ; 
 Howard at last must give him his way, 
 
 And the word was passed to fight. 
 Never was schoolboy gayer than he, 
 
 Since holidays first began : 
 He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea, 
 
 And under the guns he ran. 
 
 Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared. 
 
 Their cities he put to the sack ; 
 He singed His Catholic Majesty's beard, 
 
 And harried his ships to wrack. 
 He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls 
 
 When the great Armada came ; 
 But he said, ** They must wait their turn, good souls,'* 
 
 And he stooped, and finished the game. 
 
44 ADMIRALS ALL 
 
 Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold, 
 
 Duncan he had but two : 
 But he anchored them fast where the Texel shoaled 
 
 And his colours aloft he flew. 
 *' I've taken the depth to a fathom," he cried. 
 
 And I'll sink with a right good will, 
 For I know when we're all of us under the tide 
 
 My flag will be fluttering still." 
 
 Splinters were flying above, below. 
 
 When Nelson sailed the Sound : 
 •* Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now," 
 
 Said he, " for a thousand pound ! '* 
 The Admiral's signal bade him fly, 
 
 But he wickedly wagged his head, 
 He clapped the glass to his sightless eye, 
 
 And *♦ I'm damned if I see it," he said. 
 
ADMIRALS ALL 45 
 
 Admirals all, they said their say, 
 
 (The echoes are ringing still) 
 Admirals all, they went their way 
 
 To the haven under the hill. 
 But they left us a kingdom none can take, 
 
 The realm of the circling sea, 
 To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake 
 
 And the Rodneys yet to be. 
 
 Admirals all, for England's sake, 
 
 Honour be yotirs and fame / 
 And honour as long as waves shall break 
 
 To Nelson's peerless name / 
 
Gillespie 
 
 Riding at dawn, riding alone, 
 
 Gillespie left the town behind ; 
 Before he turned by the Westward road 
 
 A horseman crossed him, staggering blind. 
 
 " The Devil's abroad in false Vellore, 
 The Devil that stabs by night," he said, 
 
 " Women and children, rank and file. 
 Dying and dead, dying and dead." 
 
GILLESPIE 47 
 
 Without a word, without a groan, 
 
 Sudden and swift Gillespie turned, 
 The blood roared in his ears like fire, ' 
 
 Like fire the road beneath him burned. 
 
 He thundered back to Arcot gate, 
 He thundered up through Arcot town, 
 
 Before he thought a second thought 
 In the barrack yard he lighted down. 
 
 " Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons, 
 
 Sound to saddle and spur," he said ; 
 '* He that is ready may ride with me, 
 
 And he that can may ride ahead." 
 
 Fierce and fain, fierce and fain, 
 
 Behind him went the troopers grim. 
 They rode as ride the Light Dragoons, 
 
 But never a man could ride with him. 
 
48 GILLESPIE 
 
 Their rowels ripped their horses' sides, 
 
 Their hearts were red with a deeper goad, 
 But ever alone before them all 
 
 Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode. 
 
 Alone he came to false Vellore, 
 
 The walls were lined, the gates were barred ; 
 Alone he walked where the bullets bit, 
 
 And called above to the Sergeant's Guard. 
 
 '* Sergeant, Sergeant, over the gate, 
 Where are your officers all? " he said ; 
 
 Heavily came the Sergeant's voice 
 
 *' There are two Hving, and forty dead." 
 
 "A rope, a rope," Gillespie cried : 
 They bound their belts to serve his need ; 
 
 There was not a rebel behind the wall 
 But laid his barrel and drew his bead. 
 
GILLESPIE 49 
 
 There was not a rebel among them all 
 But pulled his trigger and cursed his aim, 
 
 For lightly swung and rightly swung 
 Over the gate Gillespie came. 
 
 He dressed the line, he led the charge, 
 They swept the wall like a stream in spate, 
 
 And roaring over the roar they heard 
 The galloper guns that burst the gate. 
 
 Fierce and fain, fierce and fain, 
 
 The troopers rode the reeking flight : 
 
 The very stones remember still 
 
 The end of them that stab by night. 
 
 They've kept the tale a hundred years, 
 They'll keep the tale a hundred more : 
 
 Riding at dawn, riding alone, 
 Gillespie came to false Vellore. 
 
Seringapatam 
 
 ** The sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps 
 
 Heeds not the cry of man ; 
 The faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps 
 
 No judge on earth may scan ; 
 He is the lord of whom ye hold 
 
 Spirit and sense and limb, 
 Fetter and chain are all ye gain 
 
 Who dared to plead with him." 
 
SERINGAPATAM 5 1 
 
 Baird was bonny and Baird was young, 
 
 His heart was strong as steel, 
 But life and death in the balance hung 
 
 For his wounds were ill to heal. 
 " Of fifty chains the Sultan gave 
 
 We have filled but forty-nine : 
 We dare not fail of the perfect tale 
 
 For all Golconda's mine." 
 
 That was the hour when Lucas first 
 
 Leapt to his long renown ; 
 Like summer rains his anger burst, 
 
 And swept their scruples down. 
 " Tell ye the lord to whom ye crouch. 
 
 His fetters bite their fill : 
 To save your oath I'll wear them both, 
 
 And step the lighter still." 
 
 E — 2 
 
52 SERINGAPATAM 
 
 The seasons came, the seasons passed, 
 
 They watched their fellows die ; 
 But still their thought was forward cast. 
 
 Their courage still was high. 
 Through tortured days and fevered nights 
 
 Their limbs alone were weak. 
 And year by year they kept their cheer, 
 
 And spoke as freemen speak. 
 
 But once a year, on the fourth of June, 
 
 Their speech to silence died. 
 And the silence beat to a soundless tune 
 
 And sang with a wordless pride ; 
 Till when the Indian stars were bright, 
 
 And bells at home would ring, 
 To the fetters' clank they rose and drank 
 
 " England ! God Save the King ! " 
 
SERINGAPATAM 53 
 
 The years came, and the years went, 
 
 The wheel full- circle rolled ; 
 The tyrant's neck must yet be bent, 
 
 The price of blood be told : 
 The city yet must hear the roar 
 
 Of Baird*s avenging guns, 
 And see him stand with lifted hand 
 
 By Tippoo Sahib's sons. 
 
 The lads were bonny, the lads were young, 
 
 But he claimed a pitiless debt ; 
 Life and death in the balance hung, 
 
 They watched it swing and set. 
 They saw him search with sombre eyes, 
 
 They knew the place he sought ; 
 They saw him feel for the hilted steel, 
 
 They bowed before his thought. 
 
54 SERINGAPATAM 
 
 But he — he saw the prison there 
 
 In the old quivering heat, 
 Where merry hearts had met despair 
 
 And died without defeat ; 
 Where feeble hands had raised the cup 
 
 For feebler lips to drain, 
 And one had worn with smiling scorn 
 
 His double load of pain. 
 
 «• The sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps 
 
 Hears not the voice of man ; 
 The faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps 
 
 No earthly judge may scan ; 
 For all the wrong your father wrought 
 
 Your father's sons are free ; 
 Where Lucas lay no tongue shall say 
 
 That Mercy bound not me." 
 
A Ballad of John Nicholson 
 
 It fell m the year of Mutiny, 
 
 At darkest of the night, 
 John Nicholson by Jalandhar came, 
 
 On his way to Delhi fight. 
 
 And as he by Jalandhar came 
 He thought what he must do. 
 
 And he sent to the Rajah fair greeting, 
 To try if he were true. 
 
56 A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON 
 
 " God grant your Highness length of days, 
 And friends when need shall be ; 
 
 And I pray you send your Captains hither, 
 That they may speak with me." 
 
 On the morrow through Jalandhar town 
 
 The Captains rode in state ; 
 They came to the house of John Nicholson 
 
 And stood before the gate. 
 
 The chief of them was Mehtab Singh, 
 He was both proud and sly ; 
 
 His turban gleamed with rubies red, 
 He held his chin full high. 
 
 He marked his fellows how they put 
 Their shoes from off their feet ; 
 
 ** Now wherefore make ye such ado 
 These fallen lords to greet ? 
 
A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON 57 
 
 " They have ruled us for a hundred years, 
 
 In truth I know not how, 
 But though they be fain of mastery, 
 
 They dare not claim it now." 
 
 Right haughtily before them all 
 
 The durbar hall he trod. 
 With rubies red his turban gleamed, 
 
 His feet with pride were shod. 
 
 They had not been an hour together, 
 
 A scanty hour or so. 
 When Mehtab Singh rose in his place 
 
 And turned about to go. 
 
 Then swiftly came John Nicholson 
 
 Between the door and him, 
 With anger smouldering in his eyes 
 
 That made the rubies dim. 
 
 «AH>, 
 
 '' "' or THE ^ \ 
 
58 A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON 
 
 " You are overhasty, Mehtab Singh," — 
 Oh, but his voice was low ! 
 
 He held his wrath with a curb of iron, 
 That furrowed cheek and brow. 
 
 " You are overhasty, Mehtab Singh, 
 When that the rest are gone, 
 
 I have a word that may not wait 
 To speak with you alone." 
 
 The Captains passed in silence forth 
 And stood the door behind ; 
 
 To go before the game was played 
 Be sure they had no mind. 
 
 But there within John Nicholson 
 Turned him on Mehtab Singh, 
 
 ** So long as the soul is in my body 
 You shall not do this thing. 
 
A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON 59 
 
 »* Have ye served us for a hundred years 
 
 And yet ye know not why ? 
 We brook no doubt of our mastery, 
 
 We rule until we die. 
 
 ** Were I the one last Englishman 
 
 Drawing the breath of life, 
 And you the master-rebel of all 
 
 That stir this land to strife — 
 
 ** Were I," he said, " but a Corporal, 
 
 And you a Rajput King, 
 So long as the soul was in my body 
 
 You should not do this thing. 
 
 •* Take off, take off those shoes of pride, 
 
 Carry them whence they came ; 
 Your Captains saw your insolence 
 
 And they shall see your shame." 
 
60 A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON 
 
 When Mehtab Singh came to the door 
 
 His shoes they burned his hand, 
 For there in long and silent lines 
 
 He saw the Captains stand. 
 
 When Mehtab Singh rode from the gate 
 
 His chin was on his breast : 
 The Captains said, " When the strong command 
 
 Obedience is best." 
 
The Guides at Cabul, 1879 
 
 Sons of the Island Race, wherever ye dwell, 
 Who speak of your fathers* battles with lips that burn, 
 
 The deed of an alien legion hear me tell. 
 And think not shame from the hearts ye tamed to learn, 
 When succour shall fail and the tide for a season turn 
 
 To fight with a joyful courage, a passionate pride, 
 
 To die at the last as the Guides at Cabul died* 
 
62 THE GUIDES AT CABUL, 1 8 79 
 
 For a handful of seventy men in a barrack of mud, 
 
 Foodless, waterless, dwindling one by one, 
 
 Answered a thousand yelling for English blood 
 
 With stormy volleys that swept them gunner from 
 gun, 
 
 And charge on charge in the glare of the Afghan sun, 
 
 Till the walls were shattered wherein they crouched 
 at bay, 
 
 And dead or dying half of the seventy lay. 
 
 Twice they had taken the cannon that wrecked their 
 hold, 
 
 Twice toiled in vain to drag it back, 
 
 Thrice they toiled, and alone, wary and bold, 
 
 Whirling a hurricane sword to scatter the rack, 
 
 Hamilton, last of the English, covered their track. 
 
 «« Never give in ! " he cried, and he heard them shout. 
 
 And grappled with death as a man that knows not doubt. 
 
" ' THE GUIDES AT CABUL, 1879 '' 63 
 
 And the Guides looked down from their smouldering 
 barrack again, 
 
 And behold, a banner of truce, and a voice that spoke : 
 ** Come, for we know that the English all are slain, 
 
 We keep no feud with men of a kindred folk ; 
 
 Rejoice with us to be free of the conqueror's yoke." 
 Silence fell for a moment, then was heard 
 A sound of laughter and scorn, and an answering word. 
 
 " Is it we or the lords we serve who have earned this 
 wrong, 
 
 That ye call us to flinch from the battle they bade us 
 fight? 
 
 We that live — do ye doubt that our hands are strong ? 
 
 They that have fallen— ye know that their blood was 
 bright ! 
 
 Think ye the Guides will barter for lust of the light 
 
 The pride of an ancient people in warfare bred. 
 
 Honour of comrades living, and faith to the dead ? " 
 
64 THE GUIDES AT CABUL, 1 8 79 
 
 Then the joy that spurs the warrior's heart 
 To the last thundering gallop and sheer leap 
 
 Came on the men of the Guides : they flung apart 
 The doors not all their valour could longer keep ; 
 They dressed their slender line ; they breathed deep, 
 
 And with never a foot lagging or head bent, 
 
 To the clash and clamour and dust of death they went. 
 
The Gay Gordons 
 
 (Dargai, October 2oth, 1897) 
 
 Who's for the Gathering, who's for the Fair ? 
 
 {(^ay goes the Gordon to a fight) 
 The bravest of the brave are at deadlock there, 
 
 (Highlanders ! march ! hy the right /) 
 There are bullets by the hundred buzzing in the air, 
 There are bonny lads lying on the hillside bare ; 
 But the Gordons know what the Gordons dare 
 
 When they hear the pipers playing ! 
 
66 THE GAY GORDONS 
 
 The happiest English heart to-day 
 
 {Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) 
 Is the heart of the Colonel, hide it as he may 
 
 (Steady there / steady on the right !) 
 He sees his work and he sees the way, 
 He knows his time and the word to say 
 And he's thinking of the tune that the Gordons play 
 
 When he sets the pipers playing ! 
 
 Rising, roaring, rushing like the tide, 
 
 {Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) 
 They're up through the fire-zone, not to be denied ; 
 
 {Bayonets ! and charge / hy the right /) 
 Thirty bullets straight where the rest went wide, 
 And thirty lads are lying on the bare hillside ; 
 But they passed in the hour of the Gordons' pride, 
 
 To the skirl of the pipers' playing. 
 
He Fell Among Thieves 
 
 *• Ye have robbed," said he, " ye have slaughtered and 
 made an end. 
 
 Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead : 
 
 What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend ? '* 
 
 *• Blood for our blood," they said. 
 
 He laughed : "If one may settle the score for five, 
 I am ready ; but let the reckoning stand till day : 
 
 I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive." 
 •* You shall die at dawn," said they. 
 
 F — 2 
 
68 HE FELL AMONG THIEVES 
 
 He flung his empty revolver down the slope, 
 
 He climbed alone to the Eastward edge of the trees ; 
 All night long in a dream untroubled of hope 
 
 He brooded, clasping his knees. 
 
 He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills 
 The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows ; 
 
 He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills, 
 Or the far Afghan snows. 
 
 He saw the April noon on his books aglow, 
 The wisteria trailing in at the window wide ; 
 
 He heard his father's voice from the terrace below 
 Calling him down to ride. 
 
 He saw the gray little church across the park, 
 The mounds that hide the loved and honoured dead ; 
 
 The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark, 
 The brasses black and red. 
 
HE FELL AMONG THIEVES 69 
 
 He saw the School Close, sunny and green, 
 The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, 
 
 The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between 
 His own name over all. 
 
 He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof, 
 The long tables, and the faces merry and keen ; 
 
 The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof. 
 The Dons on the dais serene. 
 
 He watched the liner's stem ploughing the foam, 
 
 He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her 
 screw ; 
 
 He heard her passengers* voices talking of home, 
 
 He saw the flag she flew. 
 
 And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet, 
 And strode to his ruined camp below the wood ; 
 
 He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet ; 
 His murderers round him stood. 
 
70 HE FELL AMONG THIEVES 
 
 Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast, 
 The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to a dazzling white ; 
 
 He turned, and saw the golden circle at last, 
 Cut by the Eastern height. 
 
 " O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun, 
 
 I have lived, I praise and adore Thee." 
 
 A sword swept. 
 Over the pass the voices one by one 
 
 Faded, and the hill slept. 
 
lonicus 
 
 With failing feet and shoulders bowed 
 
 Beneath the weight of happier days, 
 He lagged among the heedless crowd, 
 
 Or crept along suburban ways. 
 But still through all his heart was young, 
 
 His mood a joy that nought could mar, 
 A courage, a pride, a rapture, sprung 
 
 Of the strength and splendour of England's war. 
 
T2 lONICUS 
 
 From ill-requited toil he turned 
 
 To ride with Picton and with Pack, 
 Among his grammars inly burned 
 
 To storm the Afghan mountain -track. 
 When midnight chimed, before Quebec 
 
 He watched with Wolfe till the morning star ; 
 At noon he saw from Victory's deck 
 
 The sweep and splendour of England's war. 
 
 Beyond the book his teaching sped. 
 
 He left on whom he taught the trace 
 Of kinship with the deathless dead, 
 
 And faith in all the Island Race. 
 He passed ; his life a tangle seemed, 
 
 His age from fame and power was far ; 
 But his heart was high to the end, and dreamed 
 
 Of the sound and splendour of England's war. 
 
The Non-Combatant 
 
 Among a race high-handed, strong of heart, 
 Sea-rovers, conquerors, builders in the waste, 
 He had his birth ; a nature too complete, 
 Eager and doubtful, no man's soldier sworn 
 And no man*s chosen captain ; born to fail, 
 A name without an echo : yet he too 
 Within the cloister of his narrow days 
 Fulfilled the ancestral rites, and kept alive 
 
74 THE NON-COMBATANT 
 
 The eternal fire ; it may be, not in vain : 
 For out of those who dropped a downward glance 
 Upon the weakling huddled at his prayers, 
 Perchance some looked beyond him, and then first 
 Beheld the glory, and what shrine it filled, 
 And to what Spirit sacred : or perchance 
 Some heard him chanting, though but to himself, 
 The old heroic names : and went their wa^ : 
 And hummed his music on the march to death. 
 
Clifton Chapel 
 
 This is the Chapel : here, my son, 
 
 Your father thought the thoughts of youth, 
 And heard the words that one by one 
 
 The touch of Life has turned to truth. 
 Here in a day that is not far 
 
 You too may speak with noble ghosts, 
 Of manhood and the vows of war 
 
 You made before the Lord of Hosts. 
 
76 CLIFTON CHAPEL 
 
 To set the Cause above renown, 
 
 To love the game beyond the prize, 
 To honour, while you strike him down, 
 
 The foe that comes with fearless eyes : 
 To count the Ufa of battle good. 
 
 And dear the land that gave you birth. 
 And dearer yet the brotherhood 
 
 That binds the brave of all the earth. — 
 
 My son, the oath is yours : the end 
 
 Is His, Who built the world of strife, 
 Who gave His children Pain for friend, 
 
 And Death for surest hope of life. 
 To-day and here the fight's begun, 
 
 Of the great fellowship you're free ; 
 Henceforth the School and you are one, 
 
 And what You are, the race shall be. 
 
CLIFTON CHAPEL ^^ 
 
 God send you fortune : yet be sure, 
 
 Among the lights that gleam and pass, 
 You'll live to follow none more pure 
 
 Than that which glows on yonder brass : 
 *« Qtiiproctd hinCi' the legend's writ, — 
 
 The frontier-grave is far away — 
 " Qui ante diem periit : 
 
 Sed miles y sed pro f atria.'' 
 
England 
 
 Praise thou with praise unending 
 The Master of the Wine ; 
 
 To all their portions sending 
 Himself he mingled thine : 
 
 The sea-born flush of morning, 
 The sea-born hush of night, 
 
 The East wind comfort scorning. 
 And the North wind driving right 
 
 The world for gain and giving. 
 The game for man and boy, 
 
 The life that joys in living, 
 The faith that lives in joy. 
 
The Eeho 
 
 Of a Ballad sung by H. Plunket Greene to 
 HIS OLD School 
 
 Twice three hundred boys were we, 
 
 Long ago^ long ago, 
 Where the Downs look out to the Severn Sea. 
 
 Clifton for aye ! 
 We held by the game and hailed the team, 
 For many could play where few could dream. 
 
 Bonny St. Johnston stands on Tay, 
 
 Some were for profit and some for pride, 
 
 Long ago, long ago^ 
 Some for the flag they lived and died. 
 
 Clifton for aye 1 
 
8o THE ECHO 
 
 The work of the world must still be done, 
 And minds are many though truth be one. 
 Bonny St, Johnston stands on Toy. 
 
 But a lad there was to his fellows sang, 
 
 Long ago, long ago, 
 And soon the world to his music rang. 
 
 Clifton for aye / 
 Follow your Captains, crown your Kings, 
 But what will ye give to the lad that sings ? 
 
 Bonny St, Johnston stands on Toy, 
 
 For the voice ye hear is the voice of home. 
 
 Long ago, long ago. 
 And the voice of Youth with the world to roam. 
 
 Clifton for aye / 
 The voice of passion and human tears, 
 And the voice of the vision that lights the years. 
 
 Bontiy St. Johnston stands on Tay. 
 
Vitai Lampada 
 
 There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night- 
 Ten to make and the match to win — 
 
 A bumping pitch and a blinding light, 
 An hour to play and the last man in. 
 
 And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, 
 Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, 
 
 But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote 
 " Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 
 
 G 
 
82 VITAI LAMPADA 
 
 The sand of the desert is sodden red, — 
 
 Red with the wreck of a square that broke ; — 
 The Catling's jammed and the Colonel dead, 
 
 And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. 
 The river of death has brimmed his banks, 
 
 And England's far, and Honour a name, 
 But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks : 
 
 " Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 
 
 This is the word that year by year, 
 
 While in her place the School is set, 
 Every one of her sons must hear, 
 
 And none that hears it dare forget. 
 This they all with a joyful mind 
 
 Bear through life like a torch in flame. 
 And falling fling to the host behind — 
 
 " Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! ' 
 
A Song of Exmoor 
 
 The Forest above and the Combe below, 
 
 On a bright September morn ! 
 He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God 
 
 That ever his body was born ! 
 So hurry along, the stag's afoot, 
 
 The Master's up and away ! 
 Halloo ! Halloo ! we'll follow it through 
 
 From Bratton to Porlock Bay ! 
 
 So hurry alongy the stag's afoot, 
 The Master's up and away / 
 
 Halloo / Halloo / we'll follow it through 
 From Bratton to Porlock Bay I 
 
 G — 2 
 
84 A SONG OF EXMOOR 
 
 Hark to the tufters' challenge true, 
 
 *Tis a note that the red-deer knows ! 
 His courage awakes, his covert he breaks, 
 
 And up for the moor he goes ! 
 He's all his rights and seven on top, 
 
 His eye's the eye of a king, 
 And he'll beggar the pride of some that ride 
 
 Before he leaves the ling ! 
 
 Here comes Antony bringing the pack. 
 
 Steady ! he's laying them on ! 
 By the sound of their chime you may tell that it's time 
 
 To harden your heart and be gone. 
 Nightacottj Narracott, Hunnacott's passed, 
 
 Right for the North they race : 
 He's leading them straight for Blackmoor Gate, 
 
 And he's setting a pounding pace ! 
 
A SONG OF EXMOOR 85 
 
 We're running him now on a breast-high scent, 
 
 But he leaves us standing still ; 
 When we swing round by Westland Pound 
 
 He's far up Challacombe Hill. 
 The pack are a string of struggling ants, 
 
 The quarry's a dancing midge, 
 They're trying their reins on the edge of the Chains 
 
 While he's on Cheriton Ridge. 
 
 He's gone by Kittuck and Lucott Moor, 
 
 He's gone by Woodcock's Ley ; 
 By the little white town he's turned him down, 
 
 And he's soiling in open sea. 
 So hurry along, we'll both be in, 
 
 The crowd are a parish away ! 
 We're a field of two, and we've followed it through 
 
 From Bratton to Porlock Bay ! 
 
86 A SONG OF EXMOOR 
 
 So huvvy along ^ we'll both he iftt 
 The crowd are a parish away / 
 We're afield of two f and we've followed it through 
 From Bratton to Porloch Bay i 
 
Fidele's Grassy Tomb 
 
 The Squire sat propped in a pillowed chair, 
 His eyes were alive and clear of care, 
 But well he knew that the hour was come 
 To bid good-bye to his ancient home. 
 
 He looked on garden, wood, and hill. 
 He looked on the lake, sunny and still ; 
 The last of earth that his eyes could see 
 Was the island church of Orchardleigh. 
 
88 fidele's grassy tomb 
 
 The last that his heart could understand 
 
 Was the touch of the tongue that licked his hand 
 
 " Bury the dog at my feet," he said, 
 
 And his voice dropped, and the Squire was dead. 
 
 Now the dog was a hound of the Danish breed, 
 Staunch to love and strong at need : 
 He had dragged his master safe to shore 
 When the tide was ebbing at Elsinore. 
 
 From that day forth, as reason would. 
 He was named ** Fidele," and made it good : 
 When the last of the mourners left the door 
 Fidele was dead on the chantry floor. 
 
 They buried him there at his master's feet. 
 And all that heard of it deemed it meet : 
 The story went the round for years. 
 Till it came at last to the Bishop's ears. 
 
. s/NiVERSITY I 
 
 fidele's grassy tomb 89 
 
 Bishop of Bath and Wells was he, 
 
 Lord of the lords of Orchardleigh ; 
 
 And he wrote to the Parson the strongest screed 
 
 That Bishop may write or Parson read. 
 
 The sum of it was that a soulless hound 
 Was known to be buried in hallowed ground : 
 From scandal sore the Church to save 
 They must take the dog from his master's grave. 
 
 The heir was far in a foreign land, 
 The Parson was wax to my Lord's command : 
 He sent for the Sexton and bade him make 
 A lonely grave by the shore of the lake. 
 
 The Sexton sat by the water's brink 
 Where he used to sit when he used to think : 
 He reasoned slow, but he reasoned it out, 
 And his argument left him free from doubt. 
 
90 FIDELES GRASSY TOMB 
 
 *' A Bishop," he said, " is the top of his trade : 
 But there's others can give him a start with the spade 
 Yon dog, he carried the Squire ashore, 
 And a Christian couldn't ha' done no more." 
 
 The grave was dug ; the mason came 
 And carved on stone Fidele's name : 
 But the dog that the Sexton laid inside 
 Was a dog that never had lived or died. 
 
 So the Parson was praised, and the scandal stayed. 
 Till, a long time after, the church decayed, 
 And, laying the floor anew, they found 
 In the tomb of the Squire the bones of a hound. 
 
 As for the Bishop of Bath and Wells 
 No more of him the story tells ; 
 Doubtless he lived as a Prelate and Prince, 
 And died and was buried a century since. 
 
FIDELES GRASSY TOMB 9 1 
 
 And whether his view was right or wrong 
 Has little to do with this my song ; 
 Something we owe him, you must allow ; 
 And perhaps he has changed his mind by now. 
 
 The Squire in the family chantry sleeps, 
 The marble still his memory keeps : 
 Remember, when the name you spell, 
 There rest Fidele's bones as well. 
 
 For the Sexton's grave you need not search, 
 'Tis a nameless mound by the island church : 
 An ignorant fellow, of humble lot — 
 But he knew one thing that a Bishop did not. 
 
Gavotte 
 
 (Old French) 
 
 Memories long in music sleeping, 
 
 No more sleeping, 
 No more dumb ; 
 Delicate phantoms softly creeping 
 
 Softly back from the old-world come. 
 
 Faintest odours around them straying, 
 
 Suddenly straying 
 In chambers dim ; 
 Whispering silks in order swaying, 
 
 Glimmering gems on shoulders slim : 
 
GAVOTTE 93 
 
 Courage advancing strong and tender, 
 
 Grace untender 
 Fanning desire ; 
 Suppliant conquest, proud surrender, 
 
 Courtesy cold of hearts on fire — 
 
 Willowy billowy now they're bending, 
 
 Low they're bending 
 Down-dropt eyes ; 
 Stately measure and stately ending, 
 
 Music sobbing, and a dream that dies. 
 
Imogen 
 
 (A Lady of Tender Age) 
 
 Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing, 
 Where were they glancing yesternight ? 
 
 Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing, 
 Imogen dancing all in white ? 
 Laughed she not with a pure delight, 
 Laughed she not with a joy serene, 
 
 Stepped she not with a grace entrancing. 
 Slenderly girt in silken sheen ? 
 
IMOGEN 95 
 
 All through the night from dusk to daytime 
 
 Under her feet the hours were swift, 
 Under her feet the hours of playtime 
 
 Rose and fell with a rhythmic lift : 
 
 Music set her adrift, adrift. 
 
 Music eddying towards the day 
 Swept her along as brooks in Maytime 
 
 Carry the freshly falling May. 
 
 Ladies, life is a changing measure. 
 
 Youth is a lilt that endeth soon ; 
 Pluck ye never so fast at pleasure, 
 
 Twilight follows the longest noon. 
 
 Nay, but here is a lasting boon. 
 
 Life for hearts that are old and chill. 
 Youth undying for hearts that treasure 
 
 Imogen dancing, dancing still. 
 
Nel Mezzo del Cammln 
 
 Whisper it not that late in years 
 
 Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter, 
 
 Life be freed of tremor and tears, 
 
 Heads be wiser and hearts be lighter. 
 
 Ah ! but the dream that all endears, 
 
 The dream we sell for your pottage of truth — 
 
 Give us again the passion of youth. 
 
 Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter. 
 
The Invasion 
 
 Spring, they say, with his greenery 
 Northward inarches at last, 
 Mustering thorn and elm ; 
 Breezes rumour him conquering, 
 Tell how Victory sits 
 High on his glancing helm. 
 
 H 
 
gS THE INVASION 
 
 Smit with sting of his archery, 
 Hardest ashes and oaks 
 Burn at the root below : 
 Primrose, violet, daffodil, 
 
 Start like blood where the shafts 
 Light from his golden bow. 
 
 Here where winter oppresses us 
 Still we listen and doubt, 
 Dreading a hope betrayed : 
 Sore we long to be greeting him. 
 Still we linger and doubt 
 
 ** What if his march be stayed ? " 
 
 Folk in thrall to the enemy. 
 Vanquished, tilling a soil 
 Hateful and hostile grown : 
 
THE INVASION 99 
 
 Always wearily, warily, 
 Feeding deep in the heart 
 Passion they dare not own- 
 So we wait the deliverer ; 
 Surely soon shall he come. 
 Soon shall his hour be due : 
 Spring shall come with his greenery, 
 Life be lovely again, 
 Earth be the home we knew. 
 
 H~2 
 
Pereunt et Imputantur 
 
 (After Martial) 
 
 Bernard, if to you and me 
 Fortune all at once should give 
 
 Years to spend secure and free, 
 With the choice of how to live, 
 
 Tell me, what should we proclaim 
 
 L-ife deserving of the name ? 
 
 Winning some one else's case ? 
 
 Saving some one else's seat ? 
 Hearing with a solemn face 
 
 People of importance bleat ? 
 No, I think we should not still 
 Waste our time at others' will. 
 
PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTUR lOI 
 
 Summer noons beneath the limes, 
 
 Summer rides at evening cool, 
 Winter's tales and home-made rhymes, 
 
 Figures on the frozen pool — 
 
 These would we for labours take, 
 And of these our business make. 
 
 Ah ! but neither you nor I 
 
 Dare in earnest venture so : 
 Still we let the good days die 
 
 And to swell the reckoning go. 
 What are those that know the way, 
 Yet to walk therein delay ? 
 
Felix Antonius 
 
 (After Martial) 
 
 To-day, my friend is seventy-five ; 
 
 He tells his tale with no regret ; 
 
 His brave old eyes are steadfast yet, 
 His heart the lightest heart alive. 
 
 He sees behind him green and wide 
 The pathway of his pilgrim years ; 
 He sees the shore, and dreadless hears 
 
 The whisper of the creeping tide. 
 
FELIX ANTONIUS 
 
 For out of all his days, not one 
 
 Has passed and left its unlaid ghost 
 To seek a light for ever lost, 
 
 Or wail a deed for ever done. 
 
 So for reward of life-long truth 
 He lives again, as good men can, 
 Redoubling his allotted span 
 
 With memories of a stainless youth. 
 
The Last Word 
 
 Before the April night was late 
 
 A rider came to the castle gate ; 
 
 A rider breathing human breath, 
 
 But the words he spoke were the words of Death. 
 
 " Greet you well from the King our lord, 
 He marches hot for the eastward ford ; 
 Living or dying, all or one, 
 Ye must keep the ford till the race be run." 
 
THE LAST WORD IO5 
 
 Sir Alain rose with lips that smiled, 
 He kissed his wife, he kissed his child ; 
 Before the April night was late 
 Sir Alain rode from the castle gate. 
 
 He called his men-at-arms by name, 
 But one there was imcalled that came : 
 He bade his troop behind him ride, 
 But there was one that rode beside. 
 
 " Why will you spur so fast to die ? 
 Be wiser ere the night go by. 
 A message late is a message lost ; 
 For all your haste the foe had crossed, 
 
 ** Are men such small unmeaning things 
 To strew the board of smiling Kings ? 
 With life and death they play their game^ 
 And life or deaths the end's the same" 
 
I06 THE LAST WORD 
 
 Softly the April air above 
 Rustled the woodland homes of love : 
 Softly the April air below 
 Carried the dream of buds that blow. 
 
 ** Is he thai bears a warrior* s fame 
 To shun the pointless stroke of shame f 
 Will he thatjiropped a trembling throne 
 Not stand for right when right's his own f 
 
 " Yoiir oath on t lie four gospels sworn f 
 What oath can bind resolves unborn 7 
 You lose that far eternal life f 
 Is it yours to lose ? Is it child and wife f ' 
 
 But now beyond the pathway's bend, 
 Sir Alain saw the forest end, 
 And winding wide beneath the hill, 
 The glassy river lone and still. 
 
THE LAST WORD lO? 
 
 And now he saw with lifted eyes 
 The East like a great chancel rise, 
 And deep through all his senses drawn, 
 Received the sacred wine of dawn. 
 
 He set his face to the stream below, 
 He drew his axe from the saddle bow : 
 " Farewell, Messire, the night is sped ; 
 There lies the ford, when all is said," 
 
^ 
 
 Ireland, Ireland 
 
 Down thy valleys, l«reland, Ireland, 
 Down thy valleys green and sad, 
 
 Still thy spirit wanders wailing, 
 Wanders wailing, wanders mad. 
 
 Long ago that anguish took thee, 
 Ireland, Ireland, green and fair. 
 
 Spoilers strong in darkness took thee. 
 Broke thy heart and left thee there. 
 
 Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland, 
 Still thy spirit wanders mad ; 
 
 All too late they love that wronged thee, 
 Ireland, Ireland, green and sad. 
 
Moonset 
 
 Past seven o'clock : time to be gone ; 
 Twelfth-night's over and dawn shivering tip : 
 A hasty cut of the loaf, a steaming cup, 
 Down to the door, and there is Coachman John. 
 
 Ruddy of cheek is John, and bright of eye ; 
 But John it appears has none of your grins and winks ; 
 Civil enough, but short : perhaps he thinks : 
 Words come once in a mile, and always dry. 
 
 Has he a mind or not ? I wonder ; but soon 
 We turn through a leafless wood, and there to the right, 
 Like a sun bewitched in alien realms of night. 
 Mellow and yellow and rounded hangs the moon. 
 
no MOONSET 
 
 Strangely near she seems, and terribly great : 
 The world is dead : why are we travelling still ? 
 Nightmare silence grips my struggling will ; 
 We are driving for ever and ever to find a gate. 
 
 " When you come to consider the moon," says John at 
 last, 
 
 And stops, to feel his footing and take his stand ; 
 
 " And then there's some will say there's never a hand 
 
 That made the world ! " 
 
 A flick, and the gates are passed. 
 
 Out of the dim magical moonlit park. 
 
 Out to the workday road and wider skies : 
 
 There's a warm flush in the East where day's to rise. 
 
 And I'm feeling the better for Coachman John's remark. 
 
Hymn 
 In thb Time of War and Tumults 
 
 O Lord Almighty, Thou whose hands 
 
 Despair and victory give ; 
 In whom, though tyrants tread their lands, 
 
 The souls of nations live ; 
 
 Thou wilt not turn Thy face away 
 From those who work Thy will. 
 
 But send Thy peace on hearts that pray. 
 And guard Thy people still. 
 
 Remember not the days of shame, 
 
 The hands with rapine dyed, 
 The wavering will, the baser aim, 
 
 The brute material pride ; 
 
112 HYMN 
 
 Remember, Lord, the years of faith, 
 
 The spirits humbly brave, 
 The strength that died defying death, 
 
 The love that loved the slave : 
 
 The race that strove to rule Thine earth 
 
 With equal laws unbought : 
 Who bore for Truth the pangs of birth. 
 
 And brake the bonds of Thought. 
 
 Remember how, since time began, 
 
 Thy dark eternal mind 
 Through lives of men that fear not man 
 
 Is light for all mankind. 
 
 Thou wilt not turn Thy face away 
 From those who work Thy will, 
 
 But send Thy strength on hearts that pray 
 For strength to serve Thee still. 
 
The Building of the Temple 
 
 (An Anthem heard in Canterbury Cathedral) 
 
 The Organ. 
 
 O Lord our God, we are strangers before Thee, and 
 sojourners, as were all our fathers : our days on the 
 earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding. 
 
 O Lord God of our fathers, keep this for ever in the 
 imagination of the thoughts of Thy people, and prepare 
 their heart unto Thee. 
 
 And give unto Solomon my son a perfect heart to 
 keep Thy commandments, and to build the palace for 
 the which I have made provision. 
 
 Boys* voices. 
 
 O come to the Palace of Life, 
 Let us build it again. 
 
114 THE BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 It was founded on terror and strife, 
 It was laid in the curse of the womb, 
 And pillared on toil and pain, 
 And hung with veils of doom, 
 And vaulted with the darkness of the tomb. 
 
 Men*s voices. 
 O Lord our God, we are sojourners here for a day. 
 
 Strangers and sojourners, as all our fathers were : 
 Our years on the earth are a shadow that fadeth away ; 
 
 Grant us light for our labour, and a time for prayer. 
 
 Boys, 
 But now with endless song, 
 And joy fulfilling the Law ; 
 Of passion as pure as strong 
 And pleasure undimmed of awe ; 
 With garners of wine and grain 
 Laid up for the ages long, 
 
THE BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE II 5 
 
 Let US build the Palace again 
 
 And enter with endless song, 
 
 Enter and dwell secure, forgetting the years of wrong. 
 
 Men, 
 O Lord our God, we are strangers and sojourners here, 
 
 Our beginning was night, and our end is hid in Thee : 
 Our labour on the earth is hope redeeming fear, 
 
 In sorrow we build for the days we shall not see. 
 
 Boys, 
 
 Great is the name 
 
 Of the strong and skilled. 
 
 Lasting the fame 
 
 Of them that build : 
 
 The tongues of many nations 
 
 Shall speak of our praise, 
 
 And far generations 
 
 Be glad for our days. 
 
li6 THE BUILDING OF THE lEMPLE 
 
 Men. 
 We are sojourners here as all our fathers were, 
 
 As all our children shall be, forgetting and forgot : 
 
 The fame of man is a murmur that passeth on the air, 
 
 We perish indeed if Thou remember not. 
 
 We are sojourners here as all our fathers were, 
 Strangers travelling down to the land of death : 
 
 There is neither work nor device nor knowledge there, 
 O grant us might for our labour, and to rest in faith. 
 
 Boys, 
 In joy, in the joy of the light to be, 
 
 Men, 
 O Father of Lights, unvarying and true, 
 
 Boys. 
 Let us build the Palace of Life anew. 
 
 Men. 
 Let us build for the years we shall not see. 
 
THE BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE 
 Boys, 
 Lofty of line and glorious of hue, 
 With gold and pearl and with the cedar tree, 
 
 117 
 
 Men. 
 With silence due 
 And with service free, 
 
 Boys, 
 Let us build it for ever in splendour new. 
 
 Men, 
 Let us build in hope and in sorrow, and rest in Thee. 
 
 >^ or THf 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
Notes 
 
 The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn. This ballad is founded on 
 fragmentary lines communicated to the author by Admiral Sir 
 Windham Hornby, K.C.B., who served under Sir Thomas 
 Hardy in 1827. 
 
 VcB Victis, See Livy^ xxx., 43, Diodorus Siculus^ xix., 106. 
 
 San Stefano. Sir Peter Parker was the son of Admiral 
 Christopher Parker, grandson of Admiral Sir Peter Parker 
 (the life-long friend and chief mourner of Nelson), and great- 
 grandson of Admiral Sir William Parker. On his mother's 
 side he was grandson of Admiral Byron, and first cousin of 
 Lord Byron, the poet. He was killed in action near Baltimore 
 in 1 8 14, and buried in St. Margaret's, Westminster, where may 
 be seen the monument erected to his memory by the officers 
 of the Menelaus, 
 
 The Fighting Tdineraire. The two last stanzas have been 
 misunderstood. It seems, therefore, necessary to state that 
 they are intended to refer to Turner's picture in the National 
 Gallery of " The Fighting Tdm^raire Tugged to her Last 
 Berth." 
 
 Drakes Drum. A state drum, painted with the arms of 
 Sir Francis Drake, is preserved among other relics at Buck- 
 land Abbey, the seat of the Drake family in Devon. 
 
NOTES I 19 
 
 Serin^apatam. In 1780, while attempting to relieve Arcot, 
 a British force of three thousand men was cut to pieces by 
 Hyder Ali. Baird, then a young captain in the 73rd, was left 
 for dead on the field. He was afterwards, with forty-nine other 
 officers, kept in prison at Seringapatam , and treated with 
 Oriental barbarity and treachery by Hyder Ali and his son 
 Tippoo Sahib, Sultans of Mysore. Twenty -three of the 
 prisoners died by poison, torture, and fever ; the rest were 
 surrendered in 1784. In 1799, at the siege of Seringapatam, 
 Major-General Baird commanded the first European brigade, 
 and volunteered to lead the storming column. Tippoo Sahib, 
 with eight thousand of his men, fell in the assault, but the 
 victor spared the lives of his sons and forbade a general sack 
 of the city. 
 
 Clifton Chapel. Clifton is one of the two schools from 
 which the largest number of boys pass direct into the R. M. A., 
 Woolwich, and R. M. C, Sandhurst. Thirty-five Old Cliftonian 
 officers served in the late campaign on the Indian Frontier, 
 of whom twenty-two were mentioned in despatches and six 
 recommended for the Distinguished Service Order. The con- 
 nection of the school with Egypt and the Soudan is hardly 
 less memorable. 
 
 The Echo, The ballad was " The Twa Sisters of Binnorie," 
 as set by Arthur Somervell. 
 
 R. FOLKARD AND SON, PRINTERS, 22, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, W.C. 
 
 or THF ^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or 
 
ADMIRALS ALL. Fourteenth Edition. 
 
 SOmE TRESS C^OTICES. 
 
 '• Several of these songs, we venture to say, will take an eminent 
 and enduring place among our patriotic poetry. The literature of the 
 Navy in particular is enriched with some numbers more spirit-stirring 
 than anything that has appeared since Tennys<jn's immortal Ballad of 
 the 'Revenge.' Mr. Newbolt's style, indeed, has not the volume and 
 impetus of Mr. Kipling's, but it is simpler and more concise, and has 
 more of true lyric, as distinct from rhetorical quality. More than 
 one of his songs ought to be set to music, and that by our best 
 composers. ... If ever poem carried its own melody, it is 
 * Drake's Drum.' . . . If we should fall beneath our former selves 
 when the great Armadas come, it will not be for want of a singer to 
 pipe us to quarters. . . . Every bit as good as the sea songs is 
 the * Ballad of John Nicholson' [quoted]. If this be not ballad poetry 
 ol the right strain, we know not where to look for it. Mr. Newbolt 
 ennobles the good old sea song of our ancestors by adding to its swing 
 and spirit a fervour of imagination and a literary finish in which it has 
 hitherto been lacking." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 **Mr. Newbolt essays the ballad simple and direct, and it is no 
 little praise to him that in assuming topics and methods which have 
 recently become identified so closely with Mr. Kipling, he nevertheless 
 succeeds in striking an entirely original note. . . . When he is 
 well set in a swinging metre, Mr. Newbolt's verve and virility are 
 tremendous. . . . Here are all the qualities of ballad poetry — 
 simplicity, directness, a vivid impression, and the quick sympathy 
 which leaps from word to eye, and makes every reader yearn to be up 
 and doing. — Literature" 
 
 "Genuinely inspired pieces. .... What strikes a critic 
 most of all, in Mr. Newbolt's work, is its mixture of restraint and 
 strength with flexibility of verse and real power of expression ; while it 
 is pervaded by the aim of glorifying great things and great men, and 
 has no tinge of the pessimism, cynicism, or morbidity of the day." — 
 St. Jameses Gazette. 
 
 **Mr. Cory wrote patriotic verse ten years ago, in the very spirit 
 which Mr. Newbolt has so admirably caught. But where ten years 
 ago was the public to send such a book triumphantly into its fourteenth 
 edition? It did not exist. And therefore, after reading 'Admirals All,' 
 and noting the success it has won, a fair critic owes his thanks to the 
 Navy League for creating (or at least enlarging) the demand, as well 
 as to Mr. Newbolt for supplying it. Mr. Newbolt is of the true line 
 of Cory, Doyle, and Lyall."— A. T. Q. C, in Speaker. 
 
List of Books 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 ELKIN MATHEWS 
 
 TELEGRAPHIC 
 ADDRESS — 
 
 ELEGANTIA, 
 LONDON." 
 
 MOST OF THE BOOKS IN THIS CATALOGUE ARE 
 PUBLISHED AT NET PRICES 
 
 LONDON : VIGO STREET, W. 
 
Figo Viatica 
 Lector! eme^ lege^ ^ gaudebis 
 
 List of Books 
 
 IN 
 
 BELLES LETTRES 
 
 (Including some Importations and Transfers) 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Elkin Mathews 
 
 VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. 
 
 N.B. — The AutJiors and Publisher reserve the right of reprinting 
 any book in this list, except in cases where a stipulation has been 7nadc 
 to the contrary, and of printing a separate edition of any of the books for 
 America. In the case of limited Editions, the numbers mentioned do 
 not include the copies sent for review, nor those supplied to the public 
 libraries. The prices of books not yet published are subject to variation. 
 
 The Books mentioned in this Catalogue can be obtained to order by any 
 Bookseller. It should be noted also that most of them are supplied to the 
 Trade on terms which will not allorv of discount. 
 
 The following are a few of the Authors represented in this Catalogue 
 
 Laurence Binvon. Lionel Johnson. 
 
 R. D. Blackmore. p. B. Marston. 
 
 Robert Bridges. William Morris. 
 
 Bliss Carman. Henry Newbolt. 
 
 E. R. Chapman. Hon. Roden Noel. 
 
 Walter Crane. Stephen Phillips. 
 
 Geo. Darley. May Probyn. 
 
 Canon Dixon. F. York Powell. 
 
 Michael Field. William Strang. 
 
 T. Gordon Hake. J. A. Symonds. 
 
 Arthur Hallam. Henry Van Dyke. 
 
 W. C. Hazlitt. E. H. Lacon Watson. 
 
 Katharine Hinksom. Theodore Watts Dunton. 
 
 Herbert P. Hornb. Frederick Wedmore. 
 
 Richard Hovey. P. H. Wicksteed. 
 
 Selwyn Image. W. B. Yeats. 
 
The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 ABBOTT (DB.). The Birds About Us 73 Engravings. 
 Second Edition. Thick or. 8vo. ^s. 6d. net. 
 
 Travels in a Tree-Top. Sm. 8vo. 55. net. 
 
 " Dr. Abbott pleases by the interest he takes in the subject which he treats . . 
 and he adorns his matter with a good English style. . . . Altogether, with its 
 dainty printing, it would be a charming book to read in the open air on a bright 
 summer's day." — Athenaum. 
 
 " He has an observant eye, a warm sympathy, and a pen that enables us to see 
 with him. Noticing could be more restful than to read the thoughts of such naiure- 
 lovers. The very titles of his chapters suggest qUict and gentle things." — Dublin 
 Herald. 
 
 " A delightful volume this of Nature Sketches. Dr. Abbott writes about New 
 Fngland woods and streams, scenes neither familiar nor quire strange lo us v.'ho 
 know the same things in the old country. The severer winter makes some djffsftiice, 
 as, for instance, in the number of birds that migiate there, but are stationary here; 
 and there are, of course, other differences m boih fauna and flora; ne-frtheless, we 
 feel, in a way, at home, when Dr. Abbott takes us on one or' his delightful win er or 
 summer excursions. This js a book which we cannot recommend too higlily." — 
 Sfectator, 
 
 ARMOUR (MARGARET). Thames Sonnets and 
 Semblances. By Mrs. W. B. Macdougall (Mar- 
 garet Armour). With 12 full-page Illustrations, 
 Decorated Tille-page and Tail-piece by W. B. Mac- 
 DOUGall. Fcap, 410. ^s. net. 
 
 ARNOLD (MATTHEW). See Galton. 
 
 BABY LAYS. By Ada Stow. With 16 Pictures, by 
 Edith Calvert. Royal i6mo. is. SJ. nef. 
 
 {Third Thousand, 
 
 " A book of fresh nursery rhymes, all very good and very nonsensical, as they 
 ought to ue. The Bedford Park school of iliustratiim suits ihem admiraoly, and the 
 one fits the other like a hand lo a glove." — Boofsellerj' Revitw. 
 
 *'• You can think around one of these fablers for an eight hours day."— DaGONET, 
 in the RrUrce. 
 
 " Contams verses far superior both in invention and technique to the general run 
 . . . . There IS humour in these and delicate tancy."—!)^/// iVeioj. 
 
 Baby I^ays, More. By Ada Stow, 14 Pictures by 
 Edith Calvert. Royal i6mo. \s. 6d. net. 
 
 BALLADS AND ETCHINGS. A Book of 
 Ballads. By Alice Sargant. With 5 Etchings by 
 William Strang. Medium 4to \^s. net. 
 
 BATEMAN (MAY). SoNNtTS and Songs. With a 
 title design by John D. Mackenzie. Ecap. 8vo. 
 3.y. ^d. net. 
 
The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 BEAEDSLEY (AUBREY). See Bjornson and 
 
 RUDING. 
 
 BINYON (LAURENCE). Lyric Poems, with title- 
 page by Selwyn Image. Sq. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 
 See The Garland. 
 
 BJORNSON (B.). Pastor Sang: being the Norwegian 
 Drama, Over ^vne. Frontispiece by Aubrey Beards- 
 ley. Fcap. 8vo. 31. dd. net. 
 
 BLACKMORE (R. D.). Fringilla ; or, Some Tales 
 IN Verse. By the Author of "Lorna Doone." With 
 Eleven full-page Illustrations and numerous vignettes and 
 initials by L. Fairfax-Muckley. Sm. 4to. loj. net. 
 
 BOND (R. WARWICK). Another Sheaf. With 
 Photogravure Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 BOURCHIER (M.). The Adventures of a Gold- 
 smith. A Historical Romance. By the Author of 
 *' The C Major of Life." Cr. 8vo. 6.-. [Second Edition. 
 
 " Really admirable. Mr. Bourchier possesses pre-eminently the gift of expression ; 
 he uses words with extraordinary discrimination, and clothes an idea or creates a 
 picture with exceptional originality, vividness, and force. His character drawing 
 also is by no means without insight. The scene is laid in Paris, in the time of the 
 First Consul, and t|ie atmosphere is thickly charged with political intrigue. A 
 detailed knowledge of the internal history of France is necessary to the reader who 
 vould understand the politics of the book. And the reader who would be content to 
 take these for granted will find some little tiouble in following the thread of the 
 story. 1 he lover of the historical novel will be well advised to take this trouble. 
 He will be repaid not onlv by the excellencies already mentioned, but by sundry 
 strikingly draniatic situations which are developed to the utmost." — World. 
 
 *' A new novel from the author of ' The C Major of Life ' will be welcomed by 
 all who had the good fortune to read that clever and thoughtful work, and can hardly 
 iail to rivet the attention of those who now make trial for the first time of 
 Mr. Bourchier's skill in handling narrative, dialogue, and plot. . . . It is a worjc 
 of outstanding merit, not merely in virtue of the fine literary quality of the writing, 
 but ot the subtlety of observation and keen dramatic instinct with which the author 
 has turned to account his historical studies of the period." — Spectator. 
 
 The C Major of Life : A Novel. Cr. 8vo. 3.^. 6d. 
 IIJIETON (NICHOLAS), See Isham Facsimile 
 
 JiEPRINTS. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 BRIDGES (J. A.). In a Village (Poems). Printed at 
 the Chiswick Press. Crown 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 BRIDGES (ROBERT). See The Garland. 
 
 BROWNE (H. DEVEY). Papers from Punch, in 
 Prose and Verse. With Illustrations by G. Du 
 Maurier, Linley Sambourne, J. Bernard Par- 
 tridge, and others. Crown 8vo. 3^. ^d. 
 
 CALVERT (EDITH). See Baby Lays and More 
 Baby Lays. 
 
 CANON (THE): An Exposition of the Pagan Mystery 
 perpetuated in the Cabala as the Rule of all the Arts. 
 With a Preface by R. B. Cunninghame Graham. 
 Demy 8vo. Over 400 pp., with numerous Illustrations. 
 \2s. net. 
 
 CARMAN (BLISS). Low Tide on Grand Pr^ : a Book 
 of Lyrics. Second Edition. Small 8vo. 3^. ^d. net. 
 
 Behind the Arras : a Book of the Unseen. With 
 designs by T. B. Meteyard. Fcap. 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 *'A strange, restless, decidedly impressive book, with a lurid glow about the 
 lyrics it contains. Mr. Carman's vocabulary is rich and exotic. . . . The book 
 contains rich poetical ore. . . . ,It is sumptuously printed, and strikingly bonnd." 
 —Pa// Mall Gascette. 
 
 " A brilliant and free fancy decorates the fabric of his thoughts, as though the 
 wind should wave the arras and yield us glimpses of undying roses.'' — Speaktr. 
 
 CARMAN (BLISS) and RICHARD HOVEY. 
 
 More Songs from Vagabondia. With Decorations 
 by Tom B. Meteyard. Fcap. 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 Songs from Vagabondia. \Soldout» 
 
 '* These little snatches have the spirit of a gipsy Omar Khayyam^ They have 
 always careless verve, and often careless felicity ; they are masculine and rough, as 
 roving songs should be. . . . Here, certainly, is the poet's soul. . , . You 
 have the whole spirit of the book in such an unforgetable little lyric as ' In the House 
 of Idiedaity.' . . We refer the reader to the delightful little volume itself, which 
 comes as a welcome interlude amidst the highly wrought introspective poetry of the 
 <iay."— Francis Thompson, in Aferry England. 
 
The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 CHAPMATST (ELIZABETH RACHELS A Little 
 Child's Wreath : A Sonnet Sequence. With title-page 
 and cover desii^med by Selwyn Image. Second Edition. 
 Sq. i6mo., green buckram. 3J, 6d. net. 
 
 " Contains many tender and pathetic passages, and some really exquisite and 
 subtlfi touches of childhooa nature. . . . The average excellence of the sonnets 
 is undoubted." — Spectator. 
 
 COLERIDGE (HON. STEPHEN). The Sanctity 
 OF Confession : A Romance. 2nd edition. Cr. 8vo. 
 2s. 6d [ Very few retnain. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone writes:— *' I have read the singularly well told story. . . . 
 It opens up questions both deep and dark; it cannot be right to accept in religion 
 or anything else a secret which destioys the life of an innocent fellow creature." 
 
 CORBIN (JOHN). The Elizabethan Hamlet: A 
 Study of the Sources, and of Shakspere's Environment, 
 to show that the Mad Scenes had a Comic Aspect now 
 Ignored. With a Prefatory Note by Y. York Powell, 
 Keguis Professor of Modern History at the University of" 
 Oxford. Small 4to. 3.?. dd, net. 
 
 CRAI^'E (WALTER). Slate and Pencil- vania 
 Adventures in a Desert Island. Decyphered in 26 
 • coloured Pictures by Walter Crane. 4to., 1885, 
 3j-. dd, net. 
 
 Pothooks and Perseverance ; or, The ABC Serpent. 
 Penned and adorned with 24 coloured Pictures by 
 Walter Crane. 4to., 1886. 3^-. dd. net. 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 
 Under the Hawthorn, and other Verses. By 
 A. de Gruchy. With Frontispiece by Walier Crane. 
 Cr. 8vo. 5 J. net. 
 
 In the Fire, and othf.r Fancies. By Effie Johnson. 
 With frontispiece by Walter Crane. Imperial i6mo. 
 3^. dd. net. 
 
 A Sicilian Idyll. By John Todhunter. With 
 Frontispiece by Walter Crane. Imp. i6mo. ^s. net. 
 A few L. P. copies, ioj. 6^/. net. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 DANTE. La Commedia di Dante. A New Text carefully 
 Revised with the aid of the most recent Editions and Col- 
 lations. Printed by Constables. Thick Fcap. 8vo. 
 4s. 6d. net. 
 
 DANTE. Six Sermons. By P. H. Wicksteed. Cr. 8vo. 
 2-y. net. \_Fourth Edition. 
 
 DANTE and His Early Biographers. By Edward Moore, 
 D.D. Crown 8vo. 3^. dd. net. 
 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 
 DANTE. See Schaff. 
 
 DARLEY (GEORGE). Nepenthe : a Poem in Two 
 Ciintos. With an Introduction by R. A. Streatfeild. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. 
 
 DIXON (REV. CANON). See The Garland. 
 
 DOWSON (ERNEST). Dilemmas : Stories and Studies 
 in Sentiment. (A Case of Conscience. — The Diary of a 
 Successful Man. — An Orchestral Violin. — The Statute 
 of Limitations. — Souvenirs of an Egoist). Crown Svo. 
 y. 6d. 
 
 DXTBLIN VERSES. By Members of Trinity College. 
 Selected and Edited by H. A. HiNKSON, late Scholar of 
 Trinity College, Dublin. Pott 4to. $s. net. 
 
 Includes contributions by the following : — Aubrey de Vera, 
 Sir Stephen de Vere, Oscar Wilde, J. K. Ingram, A. P. Graves, 
 J. Todhunter, W. E. H. Lecky, T. W. Rolleston, Edward 
 Dowden, G. A. Greene, Savage-Armstrong, Douglas Hyde, 
 R. Y. Tyrrell, G. N. Plunkett, W. Macneile Dixon, William 
 Wilkins, George Wilkins, and Edwin Hamilton. 
 
 *' A pleasant volume of contemporary Irish Verse. . . A judicious selection." 
 —Tim*:. 
 
 "Wherever there is a group of Irish readers in near or fer-ofF lands, these 
 * Dublin Vesrses' will be sure to command attention and ipplaa6s."—Glasgi>mH*r»U. 
 
The Publications of Elkrn Mathews 
 
 FIELD (MICHAEL). Sight and Song (Poems on 
 Pictures). Printed by Constables. i2mo. 55. net. 
 
 [ Very few remain, 
 
 Stephania: a Trialogue in Three Acts. Frontis- 
 piece, colophon, and ornament for binding designed by 
 Selwyn Image. Printed by Folkard & Son. Pott 
 4to. 65. net. [ Very few remain, 
 
 '*We have true drama in * Stephania.' .... Stephania, Otho, and 
 
 Sylvester II., the three persons of the play, are more than mere nanaes 
 
 Besides great ef5brt, commendable effort, there is real greatness in this play j and the 
 blank verse is often sinewy and strong with thought and passion." — Spiaker. 
 
 *" Stephania ' is striking in design and powerful in execution. It is a highly 
 dramatic ' trialogue ' between the Emperor Otho III., his tutor Gerbert, and Stephania, 
 the widow of the murdered Roman Consul, Crescentius. The poem contains much 
 fine work, and is picturesque and of poetical accent. . . ." — fVtstmintter Review 
 
 Attila, My Attila ! A Drama in Four Acts. 
 With a Facsimile of Two Medals. (Uniform with 
 Stephania). Pott 4to. 55. net. 
 
 " Attila, My Attila, is another of Michael Fields notable plays." — Daily Newt. 
 
 *■ Michael Field has aheady established a claim that what she writes should be 
 read."— TiOT«. 
 
 " A poetic drama, it is, for a wonder, poetry, and framed on no archaic pattern j 
 its words speak to listeners of to-day." — alburn. 
 
 GALTON (ARTHUB). Two Essays upon Matthew 
 Arnold, with his Letters to the Author. Fcap. 8vo. 
 3J. 6d. net. 
 
 *' It is good to be reminded of the man himself, not only by the appearance of 
 his delightful satire (' Friendship's Garland '), but by such books as this tiny volume.'* 
 — Times. 
 
 " A small book, but laore in It than n many a heavier appreciation of the great 
 critic." — Scotsman. 
 
 GARLAND, ELKIN MATHEWS' SHILLING. 
 
 A Series of Books of New Poetry by Various Authors, 
 appearing at intervals. Cover design by Selwyn Image:, 
 Fcap. 8vo. IS. net each part. 
 
 No. I. London Visions. By Laurence Binyon. 
 
 \Second Edition* 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 
 
 GARLAND, SHl'L'Ll'NGr— continued. 
 
 " There seems to me to be no question at all about the uncommon worth of 
 these poems. There are only twelve of them in all; others are going to appear later 
 on . . . they are twelve genuine things cut out of the heart of London life, and 
 some of them are poems of a big order. The stuff of poetry is in him, as it is in 
 few of our pleasant verse- writers to-day; and I doubt if one of the London poets — 
 I am not forgetting Mr. Henley — has put so much of actual London into his poetry, 
 or looked at London sights more individually. ... 1 have quoted much from a 
 very little book, and I should like to quote more ; but the rare pleasure of reading 
 twelve poems by a new poet, not one of which is a mere experiment in rhythm, or 
 follows any peculiar fashion of the day in thought or sentiment, leads one on to tempt 
 others to share it. I hope Mr. Binyon has ' London Visions ' enough to fill a great 
 many more of Mr. Mathew's 'Shilling Garlands.'" — O. O,, in The Sketch. 
 
 No. 2. PuRCELL Commemoration Ode, and other 
 Poems. By Robert Bridges. [Second Edition. 
 
 No. 3. Christ in Hades, and other Poems. By 
 Stephen Phillips, Author of " Eremus." 
 
 The Garland, Volume I. (including " Christ in Hades") 
 is now ready. The Shilling Edition of " Christ in Plades " is 
 sold out, and can only be had in the bound volume. 
 
 "It is a wonderful dream, a dream that stirs the heart in almost every line, 
 though Christ himself never utters a word throughout the poem, but only brings his 
 sad countenance and bleeding brow and torn hands into that imaginary world of half 
 conceived and chaotic gloom." — Spectator. 
 
 " The solemn music is matched by majestic words. The poignancy of feeling 
 which is in the title-poem cries from the lyrics also.'' — Speaker. 
 
 No. 4. AEromancy, and other Poems. By Margaret 
 L. Woods. [Second Edition. 
 
 "' Aeromancy ' is a fine poem, but there are others in the slim volume likely to 
 be more popular; 'The Mariner's Sleep by the Sea,' for instance, and still more so, 
 ' The Child Alone '—the latter a delightful picture of an imaginative child."— S^e/cA. 
 
 "It ['Aeromancy'] contains some very beautiful verses, but to the uninitiated 
 reader they are somewhat incoherent. . . . The gems of the small selection 
 are— 'An April Song' and 'The Child Alone.' The former is the very life and 
 breath of April at its best, . . . The latter is an exquisite sketch. ... It 
 would be impossible to express the elaborate and buoyant make-believe of an 
 imaginative child's reverie with more force and humour than are given in these 
 spirited verses." — Spectator. 
 
 No. 5. Songs and Odes. By Canon R. W. Dixon, 
 Author of " Mano." Selected by Robert Bridges. 
 
 " The Odes have a sonorous stateliness and a warmth of colour which not 
 infrequently reminds us of great masters." — Speaker. 
 
10 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 SHILLING- QAUIjA'N'D— continued. 
 
 No. 6. The Praise of Life. By Laurence Binyon. 
 / [Second Edition. 
 
 " Mr. Binyon is one of the most genuine and interesting of the younger poets. 
 Ue is not facile, not popular, and he may never learn to be either. But he is one of 
 those about whom you never ask why he writes poetry. As a craftsman, he is worth 
 study. He makes interesting and often successful experiments in meue."— 5^«cA. 
 
 No. 7. Fancy's Guerdon. By Anodos, Author of "Fancy's 
 Following." 
 
 *' Certainly there is stuff of the true sort here. . . . Strange and impressive 
 is the ' Day Dream,' truly like a dream is the bright exactness of its images, with its 
 fine conclusion." — Saturday Review, 
 
 No. 8. Admirals All, and other Verses. By Henry 
 Newbolt. \_Seventh Thousand. 
 
 '*■ Genuinely inspired patriotic verse, . . . There are but a dozen pieces in 
 this shillingsworth, but there is no dross among them." — St. James's Gaxette. 
 
 "All the pieces are instinct with the national English spirit. They are written 
 in a sturdy rhythmical speech, worthy of their high themes." — Scotsman. 
 
 "Looking back to recent achievements in the same line, and including even 
 Mr. Kipling's, we do not know where to find anything better after its own kind than 
 his ballad of ' Drake's Drum.' "—{Westminster Gaxette. 
 
 "To the band of modern ballad-writers a new recruit is always most welcome. 
 It is therefore with the greatest possible pleasure that we notice the delightful little 
 collection of ballads which Mr. Newbolt publishes under the title of ' Admirals All,' 
 Mr. Nctvbolt has done a notable thing. He has managed to write ballads full of ring 
 and go, and full also of patriotic feeling, without imitating Mr. Rudyard Kipling. 
 . . , *• Admirals All' is practically Mr. Stevenson's charming essay on ' The Old 
 Admirals' put into ballad form. Mr. Newbolt has improved on the essay, and given 
 us a poem which could be sung by sailors all the world over." — Spectator. 
 
 " Stirring ballads, written by a man who has force and spirit." — Times. 
 
 "These splendid songs will take an eminent and enduring place among our 
 patriotic poetry." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " There are here all the qualities of ballad poetry, simplicity, directness, and 
 vivid impression, and the quick sympathy which leaps from word to eye, and makes 
 every reader yearn to be up and doing." — Literature. 
 
 " We should like to see these stirring verses in the hands of every high-spirited 
 youth in the Emphe.— Globe, 
 
 No. 9. Indian Elegies and Love Songs, By Man- 
 MOHAN Ghose. 
 
 No. 10. Second Book of London Visions. By Lau- 
 rence Binyon. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. n 
 
 GARLAND, ELKIN MATHEWS'. Now Ready. 
 
 Volume I., containing the first five numbers of above, 
 
 with General Title, Contents, and Wrappers, bound in 
 
 Cloth, gilt tops. 6s. net. 
 *^* After the issue of No. lo of the "Shilling Garland," 
 
 Volume 2 of "The Garland" will be published 
 
 uniform with and same price as above. See also note at 
 
 end with regard to future Volumes. 
 GASKIN (ARTHUB.). Good King Wenceslas. A 
 
 Carol written by Dr. Neale and Pictured by Arthur 
 
 J. Gaskin ; with an Introduction by William Morris. 
 
 4to. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 GASKIN (MRS). Divine and Moral Songs. By 
 
 Isaac Watts. Fourteen Pictures in Colours, by Mrs. 
 
 Arthur Gaskin, Printed by Edmund Evans, i6mo. 
 
 fancy boards. 3^'. 6d. net. {^Second Thousand. 
 
 " A dainty little edition of Dr. Watts's ' Divine and Moral Songs.' . . . The 
 pages are rubricated, and the illustrations are exquisite in colour and pleasing in 
 style " — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "We have rarely, if ever, come across such a dainty and delicate edition of this 
 old and popular children's favourite. Mrs. Gaskin's designs have a unique charm and 
 a quaint originality which makes them positively delightful." — Bookseller. 
 
 A. B. C. An Alphabet Written and Pictured by Mrs. 
 Arthur Gaskin. 60 designs. Fcap. 8vo. 35-. 6d. net. 
 
 \Second Thousand. 
 " Quite an artistic book for children : the little rhymes to each letter are amusing, 
 and the woodcut elaboration of each are of the dear old-fashioned sort that are always 
 so charming." — Glasgmu Herald. 
 
 GHOSE (MANMOHAN). ^^^ The Garland. 
 
 GILLIAT-SMITH (ERNEST). Fantasies from 
 Dreamland (Saint Dunstan's Dream, — A Legend 
 for the Little Ones). With Cover Design and Illus- 
 trations by Flori Van Acker. Crown 4to. 4^-. 
 The accomplished Translator of *'The Songs from Pru- 
 
 dentius " in this volume deals with two delightful legends in the 
 
 life of the Glastonbury Saint, 
 
 HAKE (DR. T. GORDON, " The Parable Poet "), 
 
 Madeline, and other Poems. Crown 8vo. 5^. net. 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 "I have been reading 'Madeline' again. For sheer originality, both of conception 
 and of treatment, I consider that it stands alone." — Mr. Theodore Watts- 
 DUNTON. 
 
12 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 HAKE (DR. T. GOIi'DO'N)—conHnufd. 
 
 Parables and Tales. (Mother and Child.— The Crip- 
 ple.— The Blind Boy.— Old Morality.— Old Souls.— The 
 Lily of the Valley.— The Deadly Nightshade.— The 
 Poet). With a Biographical Sketch by Theodore 
 Watts-Dunton. 9 illustrations by Arthur Hughes. 
 New Edition. Crown 8 vo. 2^, 6d.net. \_In preparation. 
 " The qualities of Dr. Gordon Hake's work were from the first fully admitted 
 and warmly praised by one of the greatest of contemporary poets, who was also a 
 critic of exceptional acuteness — Rossetd. Indeed, the only two review articles which 
 Rossetti ever wrote were written on two of Dr. Hake's books : ' Madeline,' which he 
 reviewed in the Academy in 1871, and ' Parables and Tales,' which he reviewed in 
 xYie Fortnightly in 1873. Many eminent critics have expressed a decided preference 
 for • Parables and Tales ' to Dr. Hake's other works, and it had the advantage of bein g 
 enriched with the admirable illustrations of Arthur Hughes."— 5af«r Jay Review. 
 
 HALLAM (A. H.), The Poems of, together with his 
 Essay "On Some of the Characteristics of 
 Modern Poetry, and on the Lyrical Poems of 
 Alfred Tennyson," reprinted from the Englishman's 
 Magazine^ 1831, edited, with an introduction, by Richard 
 le Gallienne. Small Svo. 5^. net. 
 
 NEW book on CHARLES AND MARY LAMB. 
 
 HAZLITT (W. C.) The Lambs : their Lives, their 
 Friends, and their Correspondence. New Parti- 
 culars and New Material. Thick crown Svo. ds. net. 
 
 {Second Edition. 
 
 This work contains (i) new biographical and bibliographical 
 matter relative to Charles Lamb and his Sister ; (2) sixty-four 
 uncollected letters and notes from the Lambs, several of which 
 have not hitherto been printed ; and (3) certain letters to Lamb 
 now first rendered. 
 
 " This interesting volume, the work of an enthusiastic Lambite, does contain 
 «ome fresh matter . . . and will be seized upon with avidity by true Lamb-lovers 
 . a . must needs place this volume on their shelves." — Ghhe. 
 
 " Contains some hitherto uncollected poems by Lamb, one of them simply a 
 perfect specimen of playful album verse, and a great many valuable biographical 
 particulars.'' — Literary World. 
 
 HEMINGWAY (P.). The Happy Wanderer (Poems). 
 Printed at the Chiswick Press, on hand-made paper. 
 Sq. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 Chicago : Way 6^ Williams. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 13 
 
 HEMING-WAY i^,)— continued. 
 
 '* ' The Happy Wanderer ' is an exquisite volume where thought and expression 
 alike are admirable. It should be read by all who are interested in the poetry of the 
 day." — Black and White. 
 
 " Mr. Hemingway is thoughtful, and his felicity of phrase is more than occasional. 
 His description of the sea as ' that mighty organ only God can play,' is very fine, and 
 some of the sonnets — notably that which gives the title — linger in the memory and 
 may not be forgotten.'' — Review of Reviews. 
 
 HINKSON (KATHARINE). A Lover's Breast- 
 Knot: Lyrics by Katharine Tynan (Mrs. Hink- 
 son). Decorated title-page. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 " ' A Lover's Breast Knot' is the tenderest, most musical, most exquisite book of 
 
 poems which Katharine Tynan has so far given to her iAaaxexs."— Literary World. 
 
 HINKSOM" (H. A.) See Dublin Verses. 
 
 ** HOBBY HORSE (THE)." An Illustrated Art 
 Miscellany. Edited by Herbert P. Horne. The 
 Fourth Number of the New Series will shortly appear, 
 after which Mr. Mathews will publish all the numbers 
 in a volume, price £1. is. net. 
 Boston : Copeland ^ Day, 
 
 HORNE (HERBERT P.). Diversi Colores : Poems. 
 Vignette, &c., designed by the Author. Printed at the 
 Chiswick Press. 250 copies. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 " In these few poems Mr. Horne has set before a tasteless age, and an extravagant 
 
 age, examples of poetry which, without fear or hesitation, we consider to be of true 
 
 and pure beauty."— ^nff-y««i«». 
 
 HUGHES (ARTHUR). See Hake. 
 
 IBBETT (W. J.). A West Sussex Garland. ("An- 
 taeus "). Fcap. 4to. 2s. 6d. net. Only 50 copies for 
 sale. 
 
 " IK MARVEL.'* See Mitchell. 
 
 IMAGE (SELWYN). Poems and Carols. Title 
 design by H. P. Horne. Printed on hand-made paper 
 at the Chiswick Press. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 
14 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 IMAGE {S'E'LWY'N)—conHm{ed. 
 
 " No one else could have done it {i.e., written ' Poems and Carols ') in just this 
 way, and the artist himself could have done it in no other way.'' "A remarkable 
 impress of personality, and this personality of singular rarity and interest. Every 
 piece is perfectly composed; the 'mental cartooning,' to use Rossetti's phrase, has 
 been adequately done . • . an air of grave and homely order . . . a union of 
 quaint and subtly simple homeliness, with a somewhat abstract severity. ... It 
 is a new thing, the revelation of a new poet. . . . Here is a book which may be 
 trusted to outlive most contemporary literature." — Saturday Review, 
 
 " An intensely personal expression of a personality of singular charm, gravity, 
 fancifulness, and interest ; work which is alone among contemporary verse alike in 
 regard to substance and to form . , . comes with more true novelty than any 
 book of verse published in England for some years." — Athenaum. 
 
 ISHAM FACSIMILE REPBINTS. Nos. III. 
 
 and IV. 
 
 Breton (Nicholas). No Whippinge, nor Trip- 
 
 PINGE, BUT A KINDE FRIENDLY SniPPINGE. London, 
 
 1601. A Facsimile Reprint, with the original Borders 
 to every page, with a Bibliographical Note by Charles 
 Edmonds. 200 copies, printed on hand-made paper at 
 the Chiswick Press. i2mo. 5j-. net. 
 
 When Dr. A. B. Grosart collected Breton's Works a few years ago for his 
 " Chertsey Worthies Library," he was forced to confess that certain of Breton's 
 most coveted books were missing and absolutely unavailable. The semi-unique 
 example under notice was one of these. 
 
 S[outhwell] (R[obert]). A Fovrefovld Medita- 
 tion, OF the foure last things. Composed in a 
 Diuine Poeme. By R. S. The author of S. Peter's 
 complaint. London, 1606. A Facsimile Reprint, with 
 a Bibliographical Note by Charles Edmonds. 150 
 copies. Printed on hand-made paper at the Chiswick 
 Press. Roy. i6mo. 5^. net. 
 
 This fragment supplies the first sheet of a previously unknown poem by Robert 
 Southwell, the Roman Catholic poet, whose religious fervour lends a pathetic beauty 
 to everything that he wrote, and future editors of Southwell's works will find it 
 necessary to give it close study. The whole of ihe Poem has been completed from 
 two MS. copies, which differ in the number of Stanzas. 
 
 The semi-unique originals fiom which these facsimiles are taken were discovered 
 in the autumn of 1867 by Mr. Charles Edmonds, in a disused lumber room at Lamport 
 Hall, Northants, and lately sold by Sir Charles Isham to the Trustees of the British 
 Museum. Nos. I. and II. of these reprints are out of print and very scarce. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 15 
 
 JACOBI (C. T.). Gesta Typographica : a Collection of 
 Printers' Sayings and Doings. Uniform with " On the 
 Making and Issuing of Books." Fcap. 8vo. '^s. 6d. net. 
 50 copies also on Japanese Paper. 
 
 JOHNSON (LIONEL). Poems. With a title design 
 and colophon by H. P. Horne. Printed at the Chiswick 
 Press, on hand-made paper. Crown 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 " Full of delicate fancy, and display much lyrical grace and felicity." — T/»2«. 
 
 " An air of solidity, combined with something also of severity, is the first 
 impression one receives from these pages. . . . The poems are more massive 
 than most lyrics are; they aim at dignity and attain it. This is, we believe, the first 
 book of verse that Mr. Johnson has published; and we would say, on a first reading, 
 that for a first book it was remarkably mature. And so it is, in its accomplishment, 
 its reserve of strength, its unfaltering style. . . . Whatever form his writing 
 takes, it will be the expression of a rich mind, and a rare talent." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Ireland; with other Poems. Uniform with "Poems." 
 Crown 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 " A high place amongst living poets must be assigned to Mr. Lionel Johnson. 
 The best poems in the volume before us, in their strength, stateUness, and severe 
 
 simplicity, resemble some of Tennyson's most finished work His former 
 
 volume of poems, as well as this, will convince all appreciative readers that he 
 possesses the creative faculty in a very high degree." — Irish Daily Independent. 
 
 "Mr. Lionel Johnson is now a poet of established reputation. His poems 
 regarded at first as the austere exercises of a ripe scholar, have now taken their proper 
 place by reason of the real fire and imaginative fervour which underlie their technical 
 f>ice\\tncc."—tVestminster Review. 
 
 KING (PAULINE). Alida Craig: A Novel. With 
 Illustrations. Fcap. Svo. 35'. 6d. 
 
 " a healthy and pleasantly- written story of a fast-vanishhig type 
 
 Miss King makes no attempt to eke out her talent with the would-be clevernesses of 
 the short story school ; her characters arc amiable without being angelic, and her 
 style is characterised by a simplicity sometimes rising to distinction. The ' girl- 
 bachelor who gives her name to tlie volume is a charming creation." — jicademy. 
 
 LAMB (CHARLES and MARY). See Hazlitt. 
 
 LONGFELLOW. The Singers, by Henry W. Long- 
 fellow. With 9 Etchings by Arthur Robertson, 
 A.R.E. Printed by F. Goulding. Fcap. 4to. 2s. bd. 
 net. 
 Also an Edition de Luxe, limited to 40 copies, the principal 
 
 Etchings signed by the Etcher, and each copy numbered. 
 
 \Qs. 6d. net. \_Nearly all subscribed. 
 
1 6 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 M ARSON (CHARLES L.). Turnpike Tales. With 
 cover design by Edith Calvert. Cr. 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 Contents : — Mr. Lavender and his Legacy ; Wild Grapes ; 
 Miss Pattie's Rheumatism ; The Bishop ; A ReaHst of the Oldest 
 School ; Love in a Mist ; Abdias of Babylon ; A Satellite of 
 Saturn. 
 
 "These short stories strike us as being the work of a clever man with a fine 
 feeling for the literary value of phrases and sentences, and with a delicate sense of the 
 humour and pathos of life." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Will stir the social conscience as well as capture the intellect of their readers." 
 —Church Times. 
 
 MARSTON (P. B.). A Last Harvest : Lyrics and 
 Sonnets from the Book of Love. Edited, with Bio- 
 graphical Sketch, by Louise Chandler Moulton. 
 Post 8vo. 5^. nef. 
 ** Among the sonnets with which the volume concludes, there are some fine 
 examples of a form of verse in which all competent authorities allow that Marstoii 
 excelled. 'The Breadth and Beauty of the Spacious Night,' 'To All in Haven,' 
 'Friendship and Love,' 'Love's Deserted Palace' — these, to mention no others, 
 have the ' high seriousness ' which Matthew Arnold made the test of true poetry." — 
 Athenaum. 
 
 MEYNELL (WILERID). The Child set in the 
 Midst. By Modern Poets. With Introduction by 
 W. Meynell, and Facsimile of the MS. of the "Toys" 
 by Coventry Patmore. Royal i6mo. 3^-. 6d. net. 
 
 MITCHELL (DR. D. G., "IK MARVEL"). 
 
 English Lands and Letters. By the Author of 
 '* Reveries of a Bachelor." Thick cr. 8vo. 4^. dd. net, 
 " Dr. Mitchell— famous the world over as ' Ik Marvel '—has laid literature under 
 
 a fresh obligation by this volume. ... Its limpid and graceful style."^£fi»n« 
 
 Journal. 
 
 MOORE (EDWARD, D.D.). See Dante. 
 
 MORRIS (WILLIAM). See Gaskin. 
 
 MORRISON (G. E.). Alonzo Quixano, otherwise Don 
 Quixote: being a dramatization. of the Novel of Cer- 
 vantes, and especially of those parts which he left un- 
 written. Cr. 8vo. 15'. net. 
 " This play, distinguished and full of fine qualities, is a brave attempt to enrich 
 our poetic drama. . . . The reverence shown for Cervantes, the care to preserve 
 intact the characteristics the Spanish master lingered over so humorously, yet so 
 lovingly, have led Mr. Morrison to deserved and notable success."— .^ica^i^rn/. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 17 
 
 NEWBOLT (HENRY). The Island Race (with 
 which is incorporated ** Admirals All"). Crown 8vo. 
 5^. net. 
 Of the forty Poems in this volume, twelve appeared in 
 "Admirals All. '^ 
 
 MoRDRED : A Tragedy. Imp. i6mo. 3^. 6d. net. 
 
 Transferred to the present Publisher. 
 SeeTnis. Garland. 
 
 NICHOLSON (CLAUD). The Joy of My Youth. 
 A Novel. Crown 8vo. 35. 6d. 
 
 " There is very delicate work in ' The Joy of My Youth.' There is not much 
 story in it, but reminiscences from the history of a sensitive man, peculiarly open to 
 impressions and influences from without. It has a Breton background, and, indeed, 
 there is nothing at all English about it .... Its style, its sentiment, its attitude, 
 were all made in France. It has charm and subtlety, and the childhood portion, with 
 the blithe imaginative pictures of a beautiful and irresponsible past, must captivate all 
 readers who have time to linger in their readmg." — Sketch. 
 
 " The delicate charm of this story is not realised until the reader has read more 
 than two or three chapters. The first chapter is unintelligible until the book is 
 finished, and then we see that the author has chosen to tell us of the end of his hero's 
 
 life before he has told us of the beginning of it Mr. Nicholson writes 
 
 with rare sympathy for and appreciation of French life." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "The hero is a charming child from first to last Too delicate, too 
 
 cultivated, most will vote the book} but that judgment will ignore its intention, 
 which is fulfilled almost without a flaw." — Bookman. 
 
 NOEL (HON. RODEN). My Sea, and other posthu- 
 mous Poems. With an Introduction by Stanley Addle- 
 SHAW^. Cr. 8vo. 35. 6d. net. 
 
 '* The volume now published from the materials the Hon . Roden Noel left behind 
 him will no way detract from his fame as a poet. We have here notes of the same 
 music that give so sweet and subtle a charm to his best poetry." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 "The ' Nature Poems ' have lines of great beauty and vigour." — Sketch. 
 
 *' Many of the poems in this slender volume are among the best, in our opinion, 
 that he ever wrote." — Commonwealth. 
 
 "A volume of strong and pathetic interest." — MR. A. E. Fletcher, in the 
 New jige. 
 
 " Such poems as * Wild Love on the Sea,' with its ringing rhythm and the tender 
 melodious * To a Comrade,' leave little to be desired. " — Pall Mall Gaxette. 
 
 Selected Poems, from the Works of the Hon. Roden 
 
 Noel. With a Biographical and Critical Essay by Percy 
 
 Addleshaw. With Two Portraits. Crown 8vo. 
 
 45. 6d. net. 
 
 *'The chief value of this volume is, of course, the examples it presents of Noel's 
 
 poems. They are very fine. But the volume has an additional charm in Mr. 
 
 Addleshaw's admirable biographical sketch, and the two beautiful portraits, which 
 
 enable one much better to understand the noble nature of the ^otC'— Glasgow Herald. 
 
1 8 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 O'SULLIVAW (VINCENT). Poems. With a title 
 design by Selwyn Image. Printed at the Chiswick 
 Press on hand-made paper. (Uniform with Lionel John- 
 son's Poems). Sq. or. 8vo. Ss. net. 
 
 PHILLIPS (STEPHEN). See The Garland. 
 
 POWELL (P. YORK). See Corbin. 
 
 PJEtOBYN (MAY). Pansies : a Book of Poems. With 
 a title-page and cover design by Minnie Mathews. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6a. net. 
 
 " Miss Prcbyn's new volume is a slim one, but rare in quality. She is no mere 
 pretty verse maker; her spontaneity and originality are beyond question, and so far 
 as colour and pictuiesquenesb go, only Mr. Francis Thompson rivals her among the 
 English Catholic poets of to-day." — Shtch. 
 
 " This too small book is a mine of the purest poetry, very holy, and very 
 refined, and removed as far as possible from the tawdry or the common-place. ' — Iriih 
 Monthly. 
 
 PUNCH PAPERS. 6"^^ Browne. 
 
 HADFORD (DOLLIE). A Light Load : a Book of 
 
 Songs. With numerous full-page drawings and initial 
 letters by Beatrice Parsons. Small 8vo. 5^-. net. 
 
 ** No woman could write a sweeter verse than the dedicatory stanzas of Dollie 
 Radford s 'A Light Load.'" — Speaker. 
 
 ■•• Of one piece, it should be said that it breathes the spirit of Mr. R. L. 
 Stevenson's ' A Child's Garden of Verses.' Indeed there is not a song in this slender 
 volume that wouid not bear quoting as an example of what a lyrjc should be." — 
 Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "The songs are tiiU of instinctive music which soars naturally. They have the 
 choice unsought felicity of a nature essentially lyrical." — Academy. 
 
 •••■There is a song to quote on every page, and we must desist, but we are much 
 mistaken if Mrs. Radtord is not the possessor of a very rare and exquisite lyric gift 
 indeed."— Mr. Richard L£ Galliennje, in the Star. 
 
 " Miss Parson's illustrations are all quite in harmony with the poems, and we 
 could almost fancy rha' poet and artist had sat down together while the poems were 
 being written and illustrated." — Bookseller^s Review. 
 
 RHYMERS' CLUB, THE SECOND BOOK OP 
 
 TiHLE. Contributions by E. Dowsox, E. J. Ellis, G. 
 A. Greene, A. Hillier, Lionel Johnson, Richard 
 LE Gallienne, VicroR Plarr, E. Radford, E. 
 Rhys, T. W. Rollestone, Arthur Symons, J. Tod- 
 hunter, W. B. Yeats. i6mo. 5^. net. 50 copies on 
 hand-made L.P. los. 6d. net. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 19 
 
 RHYMEES' CJjJJB-con/mmd. 
 
 " The vork of twelve very competent verse writers, many of them not unknown 
 to fame. This ioim of publication is not a new departure exactly, but it is a recur- 
 rence to The excellent fa;hion ol the tliiabcthan age, when 'England's Helicon,' 
 Davison's •• Pottical Rhapsody,' and 'Phoenix Nest,' with scores of other collections, 
 
 contained the best songs ol the best song-writers of that tuneful epoch."— B lad and 
 
 White. 
 
 "The future of these thirteen writers, who have thus banded themselves 
 together, will be watched with mterest. Already there is fulfilment in their work, 
 and there is much ^xomis^." -Speaker. 
 
 "In theinturvalsof Welsh rarebit and stout provided for them at the 'Cheshire 
 Cheese,' in Fleet Street, the members of the Rhymers' Club have produced some very 
 pretty poems, which Mr. Elkin Mathews has issued in his notoriously dainty 
 manner." — Vail Mali Gaxette, 
 
 ROSEN (LEW). Napoleon's Opera-Glass : a His- 
 trionic Study. Crown 8vo. 3^. bd. net, 
 
 " In this delightful little book Mr Rosen has performed a double task. He has 
 collected (or us, out of the fust-haid authoriiies, anecdotes and sayings of Napoleon in 
 regard to actors, acting, and dramatic literature, and he shows us how great and how 
 conscidus an artor Napoleon himself was when he himself took the stage on the theatre 
 of life, and played some leading pait.'' — Ihe Spectator, 
 
 "The account of Napoleon's censorship of the stage makes very amusing 
 reading. In fact, the whole book is decidedly interesting." — Daily Mail, 
 
 RUDING (WALTER). An Evil Motherhood. An 
 Impressionist Novel. With a Frontispiece by Aubrey 
 Beardsley. Crown 8vo. ^s. 6d. 
 
 "The story is, indeed, a powerful one; a tale of wrong and suffering told in a 
 vivid and thrilling language. It is in very truth the tragedy of a biain — its revolt, its 
 suffering, it.s final passionate cries against the cruel wrong which sapped its strength, 
 tortured its intellect and intelligence, and then left it thus shattered to fight the healthy 
 world as best it coxild.'"— Sunday Times. 
 
 SARGANT (ALICE). See Ballads. 
 
 SCHAPP (DR. PHILLIP). Dante Papers. With 
 likistrations by W. T. HORTON. \^In preparation. 
 
 Literature and Poetry. Engravings. 8vo. los. net. 
 
 SCULL (W. DELAPLAINE). Bad Lady Betty : 
 a Drama in Three Acts. Post 8vo. \s. net. 
 
 *' This clever and powerful play scarcely comes within our range. It gires, 
 however, an animated picture of Lady Elizabeth Luttrell, the sister of the Duchess of 
 Cumberland, and of other Luttrelis oi Four Oaks. It may he read with pleasure and 
 interest, and, though not actable in its present shape, might perhaps be rendered so." 
 — ^o*« QYid £/ueries. 
 
20 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 SCULL (W. DELAPLAINE)— ^^»/m«^^. 
 
 The Garden of the Matchboxes, and other Stories. 
 Crown 8vo. 3^. 6^. 
 
 *' The author of these clever and fascinating fentasies is entirely abreast of the 
 newest critical orthodoxy. ... As literary craftsmanship, these maiden stories 
 attain an unusually high and even level. They are all style. The variety of subject 
 and motive is remarkable. As a whole, 1 take it, these tales mark the advent of a 
 new story-teller, adequately equipped for the delineation of character, and possessed 
 of acute psychological insight. Besides which, he can write. ' — Mr. Grant Allen , 
 in Academy. 
 
 " The beauty and pathos of * A Certain Mr. Smith ' will reward everyone for 
 taking up the book."— M<jnfA«t<r Guardian. 
 
 " It is some time since we came upon more original work than riivi" —llluitratti 
 London News, 
 
 SHARP (WILLIAM). Ecce Puella, and other 
 Prose Imaginings. Cr. 8vo. 3^. 6d. net. 
 
 "The book, as a whole, will appeal to all who have a keen palate for the more 
 subtle flavours of literature." — New Age. 
 
 *' Written in Mr. Sharp's brightest and happiest style." — Letdi Mercury. 
 
 SHILLING GARLAND (ELKIN MATHEWS'). 
 
 ^^^The Garland. 
 
 SOME WELSH CHILDREN. By the Author of 
 "Fraternity." With cover and title-page designed by 
 the Author. Post 8vo. 3J. 6d. 
 
 Impressionist studies of child life in Wales, and intended to do forthe Principality 
 what " The Golden Age " has done for the Saxon Edward and Harold and Selina. 
 The studies attempt to giVe the real character of the people, not as it is usually 
 conceived, but as Renan, with the fine intuition of kinship, divined it — the character 
 of a people at once reserved and expansive, profoundly melancholy and childishly 
 gay, independent and gentle, proud and timid — above all a nation of dreamers, whose 
 dreams stretch back into the furthest reaches of antiquity. 
 
 SPAIN (IDYLLS OP). 6V<f Thirlmere. 
 
 SPANISH ARMADA. A Letter written on October 
 4, 1589, by Captain Cuellar, of the Spanish Armada, to 
 H.M. King Philip II., recounting his Misadventures in 
 Ireland and elsewhere after the Wreck of his Ship. 
 Translated with Notes, by Henry D. Sedgwick. Finely 
 printed on deckle-edge paper. 250 copies only. Fcap. 
 8vo. 25. 6d, net. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 21 
 
 STOW (ADA). See Baby Lays, and More Baby Lays. 
 STRANG (WILLIAM). See Ballads. 
 
 SYMONDS (JOHN ADDINGTON). In the Key 
 
 OF Blue, and other Prose Essays. With cover 
 designed by C. S. Ricketts. Printed at the Ballan- 
 tyne Press. Thick cr. 8vo. 8j. 6d. net. 
 
 \Third Edition. 
 New York : Macniillan dr» Co. 
 " The variety of Mr. Symonds' interests ! Here are criticisms upon the Venetian 
 TiepoV), upon M. Zola, upon Mediaeval Norman Songs, upon Elizabethan lyrics, 
 upon Plato's and Daiife's ideals of love ; and not a sign anywhere, except may be in 
 the la'it, that he has morp concern for, or knowledge of, one theme than another. 
 Add to these artistic themes the delightful records of English or Italian scenes, with 
 their rich beauties of nature or of art, and the fauman passions that inform them. 
 How jovous a sense of great possessions won at no man's hurt or loss must such a 
 man retain." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "The other essays are the work of a sound and sensible critic." — National 
 
 Ohstri^r, 
 
 *' T he literary essays are more restrained, and the prepared student will find them 
 till of illumination and charm, wjiile the descriptive papers have the attractiveness 
 which Mr. Svmonds always gives to work in this genre." — MR. JAS. ASHCROFT 
 Noble, in "Iht Literary World. 
 
 TENNYSON (LORD). ^^^ Hallam,— Van Dyke. 
 
 THIRLMEIIE (ROWLAND). Idylls of Spain. 
 Varnished Pictures of Travel in the Peninsula. Cr. 8vo. 
 4J. 6d. net. 
 
 " An amusing book of travel. . . . The outcome of an exact observer's 
 wanderings in Zaragoza, Barcelona, and other districts. They are less technically 
 typographical than humorously hunian. They are brightly written, and thoroughly 
 enjoyable." — Daily Mail. 
 
 " A bright, gossipy volume. . . . Some passages are perfect prose poems, 
 and make the reader long for the fragrant breezes of the peninsula." — Publisher s 
 Cirqilarc 
 
 " The book has roused many a pang of Reiselust." — Bookman. 
 
 *' Here we have quality . . . The author apologises for his little book 
 nepdlessly. He is a good traveller — a better impressionist. That indescribable charm 
 of Northern Spain, oi its inns, its people, and its romance, is one he can impart to us 
 with signal success. There is here, too, that flutter of the petticoat without which, 
 as Stevenson told us, even the strong book may fail to prove its strength. His ineeting 
 with little Maiguerita is a subtle and very sweet sketch. He sought out remote inns: 
 wherever romance was busy, there was his pen busy also, . . . It is an enjoyable 
 journey ; and we put down his volume with the thought that if all who write books 
 of travel were as well equipped, life's way would be easier." — Daily ChrmicU, 
 
 TYNAN (K4THAqElINE). See Hinksou. 
 
22 The Publications of Ellcin Mathews 
 
 VAN DYKE (HENRY). The Poetry of Tennyson. 
 
 Seventh Edition, enlarged. Cr. 8vo. 5^. dd. net. 
 The additions consist of a Portrait, Two Chapters, and the 
 
 Bibliography expanded. The Laureate himself gave valuable 
 
 aid in correcting various details. 
 
 "Mr. Elkin Mathews publishes a new edition, revised and enlarged, of that 
 excellent work, ' The Poetry of Tennyson,' by Henry Van Dyke. The ad litions 
 arc considerable. It is extremely interesting to go over the bibliograpnical notes 
 to see the contemptuous or, at best, contemptuously patronising tone of the reviewers 
 in the early thirties gradually turning to civility, to a loud chorus of applause." — 
 Anti-Jacnhin, 
 
 " Considered as an aid to the study of the Laureate, this labour of love merits 
 warm commendation. Its grouping of the poems, its bibliography and chronologys 
 its catalogue of Biblical allusion and quotations, are each and all substantial accessorie, 
 to the knowledge of the autnor." — DR. RICHARD GarnETT, in the Illustrated 
 London News. 
 
 WATSON (E. H. LACON). An Attic in Bohemia: 
 A Diary Without Dates. Crown 8vo, 3^-. 6d. 
 
 *' Mr. Watson discourses with shrewdness and humour upon such topics as diaries, 
 tea and muffins, golf and matrimony. . . . There are ew writers who can treat 
 so deftly and so entertainingly the most commonplace feelings and incidents of 
 everyday life." — Scotsman. 
 
 "Another pleasant budget of essays is entitled 'An Attic in Bohemia,' by 
 Mr. Lacon Watson Mr. Watson preaches the comfortable doctrine of the desirability 
 of loafing without being idle, and discourses with genuine humour and some philo- 
 sophy. If the subject-matter is the obvious, the style is singularly freth and grace'ul; 
 it is always easy, without losing a pleasant literary flavour and without degenerating 
 into slipshod slanginess. His humour is spontaneous (or seems to be so, because he 
 has the art of concealing his art), and a trifle subacid at times, whereby it loses 
 nothing in piquancy Of the seventeen essays which make up this little volume, 
 there is not one which does not contain some happy fanc^, some quaint conceit, or 
 some shrewd reflection." — Pall Mall Gaxette. 
 
 "■ If there are still any who, in the present epidemic of fiction, have any time to 
 devote to that most delightful form of literature — the e.s»ay, let them order Mr. Watson's 
 volume from their bookseller; for Mr. Watson has the rare talent of writnig charmingly 
 about nothing at all, and his essays are a delicate exposition of the tiiumph of spirit 
 over ma'ter — which is, after all, the crowning achievement of pure literature. . . . 
 Books like this make one realise regretfully how muc/i most of us miss in our daily 
 life for lack of the observant eye. . . . We hope Mr. Watson will give us some 
 more of these charming 'causeries' before long. ' — Manchester Guardian, 
 
 The Unconscious Humourist, and other Essays. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 4^. 6d. net. {^Second Edition, 
 
 *"The Unconscious Humourist' is the title of the first essay in the book, but 
 
 the subjects are as varied as 'Bicycle Tours — and a Moral,' 'The Literature of 
 
 Reminiscence,' 'Confidences,' *Thc Specialist,' 'On Love,' and ' Cacoeches 
 
 Scnbendi.'" 
 
 "These papers display a high and well-maintained staoda'd of literary capacity, 
 . . . Keenly introspective. . . Agreeably free from th^ cneap cynicism 
 
 that characterises so many productions of this class," — Daily 'Telegraph. 
 
Vigo Street, London, W. 23 
 
 WATTS-DUNTON (THEODORE). See Hake. 
 
 WATTS (DR. ISAAC). ^-^^rGASKiN. 
 
 \_Mr. Wedmoris Short Stories. New and Uniform Issue. 
 
 Crown %vo., each Vohime ^s. 6d.'\ 
 WEDMORE (FREDERICK). Pastorals of France. 
 Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. \_Sold out. 
 
 " a writer in whom delicacy of literary touch is united with an almost disem- 
 bodied fineness of sentiment." — Atkenaum. 
 
 " Of singular quaintness and beauty." — Contemporary Review. 
 
 Renunciations. Third Edition. With a Portrait by 
 J. J. Shannon. Cr. 8vo. 35. 6d. 
 
 *' These are clever studies in polite realism." — Mhenaum. 
 
 *' They are quite unusual. The picture of Richard Pelse, with his one moment 
 of romance, is exquisite." — St. jfamts's Gixette. 
 
 "'The Chemist in theSuburbs,' in ' Renunciations,' is a pure joy. . . . The 
 story of Richard t else's life is told with a power not unwonhy of the now disabled 
 hand that drew for us the lonely old age of M. Parent." — Mr. TRAILL, in '/he 
 New Review, 
 
 " The book belongs to the highest order of imaginative work. * Renunciations ' 
 are studies from the lite — pictures which make plain to us some of the innermost 
 workings of the heart." — Academy. 
 
 ' Mr. Wedinore has gained for himself an enviable reputation. His style has 
 distinction, has form. He has the poet's secret how to bring out the beauty of 
 common things. . . *The Chemist in the Suburbs,' in 'Renunciations,' is his 
 masterpiece." — Saturday Review. 
 
 English Episodes. Second Edition. Cr. 8^0. 3.?. 6d, 
 
 [Very ftio retfiaifi. 
 " Distinction is the characteristic of Mr. Wedmore s manner. These things 
 remain on the mind as things seen ; not read of." — Daily News. 
 
 " A penetrating insight, a fine pathos. Mr. Wedmoie is a peculiarly fine and 
 sane and carefully deliberate aurtisx."— H-'eitmiuster Gaxet^e. 
 
 There may also be had the Collected Edition (i8gj) of '^ Pastorals 
 of France" and '^ Renunciations,^^ with Title-page by 
 John Fulleylove, R.I. ^s. net. 
 
 WICKSTEED (P. H.). Dante : Six Sermons. (Un- 
 altered Reprint). Cr. 8vo. 2.s. net. [^Fointh Edition. 
 
 " It is impossible not to be struck with the reality and earnestness with which 
 Mr. Wicksteed seeks to do justice to what are the supreme elements ot the Cotnmedia^ 
 its spiritual significance, and the depth and insight of us moral leaching." — Guardian. 
 
 " The book is one to be read sli wJy, careuihy, lovingiy ; ana those who do not 
 feel when they come to the last page, that their time nas been not only pleasantly 
 but profitably spent, muit choose lor their amuiement such literaiure as fit* taetf 
 UKA."—Ladj''s Fictarial, 
 
24 The Publications of Elkin Mathews 
 
 WINSER (LILIAN). Lays and Legends of the 
 Weald of Kent, as Sung and Recounted at a 
 Twelfth-Night Party. With Illustrations by Mar- 
 garet WiNSER. Crown 8vo. 5^. net. 
 
 WOODS (MRS. MARGARET L.). ^-^^The Garland. 
 
 WYNNE (PRANCES). Whisper I A Volume of Verse. 
 Portrait. Fcap. 8vo. buckram. 7.S. 6d. net. 
 Transferred by the Author to the present Publisher. 
 
 ** A little volume of singularly sweet and graceful poems, hardly one of which 
 can be read by any lover of poetry without definite pleasure, and everyone who reads 
 either of them without is, we venture to say, unable to appreciate that play of light 
 and shadow on the heart of man which is of the very essence of poetry." -Spectator. 
 
 " The book includes, to my humble taste, many very charming pieces, musical, 
 simple, straightforward, and not * as sad as night.' It is long since I have read a more 
 agreeable volume of verse, successful up to the measure of its aims and ambitions." — 
 Mr. ANDREW Lang, in Longman's Magaxin*. 
 
 yEATS (W. B.). The Wind among the Reeds (Poems). 
 With a Portrait and Cover Design by Althea Gyles. 
 Cjrown 8vo. 3.?. 6d. net. 
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 The ^^ Shilling Garland^^ will be suspended for a 
 time, and {not necessarily superseding it) THE GAR- 
 LAND of NEW POETRY: an Anthology of unpub- 
 lished pieces by various WriterSy will be issued AN- 
 NUALLY in the Autumn. 
 
 THE GARLAND OP NEW POETRY. With a 
 Cover Design by Laurence Binyon. Fcap. Svo. 
 35. 6d. net. 
 
 LONDON: VIGO STREET, W. 
 
UNIVEESITY OF CALIFOKNIA LIBEAEY, 
 BERKELEY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 
 50c per volume after the third day overdue, increasing 
 to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in 
 demand may be renewed if application is made before 
 expiration of loan period. 
 
 FEB 15 ]9?| 
 
 10lul52S§ 
 JUL 3 1952 Lf] 
 
 0CT:8 1976 ff 
 
 20ro-ll,'20 
 
y.C, BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
 CD351b33fi3 
 
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