Cornell University Library The original of tiiis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013564343 This edition is limited /» 250 copies on small and 50 copies on large paper. This is No. jLLi. of the small paper edition. A SICILIAN IDYLL. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. HELENA IN TROAS. SmaU Crown 8vo. Cloth, price *' A remarkably fine poetical play." — Si. James's Gazette, '* Vigour is present everywhere ; . . . not a dull page. And, behind the vigour, there is imagination. Paris, Helen, and CEnone are real persons, worthy to tread the %X3.%^"— Academy, A STUDY OP SHELLEY. Crown 8 vo. Cloth, price 7^. "A clever presentment of ' Shelley's personality' and a careful and useful analysis of his chief works." — Graphic. ALCESTIS. A Dramatic Poem. Extra Fcap. 8vo. Cloth,, price 5^. "The few lyncs which are given are instinct with sweet effortless grace ; and nothing in the whole poem is more marked than its singular quality of mastery ... a delicately wrought artistic whole." — Liver' Pool A rgus. "The blank verse is unusually ^ood, and the lyrical hymns are melodious, while there is an appropriate elevation of thought. Neither is a certain degree of humour wanting." — Graphic. "This is a powerful little drama." — Current Literature. LAURELLA, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. Cloth, price 6j. 6^. **A volume deserving of a warm welcome from all lovers of lofty rhyme." — Morning Post. FOREST SONGS. Small Crown 8vo. Cloth, price 3^. 6^. THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF RIENZI. Small Crown 8vo. Price 3^. td, THE BANSHEE AND OTHER POEMS. Small Crown 8vo. Cloth, price zs. 6d. "Full of imaginative vision and exquisite workmanship." — Man- chester Guardian. "Mr. Todhunter's rendering of the ancient legends is forcible and vivid. " — A cadetny. ' ' Will be read with eagerness by all true lovers of poetry. " — Scotsman. "'The Doom of the Children of Lir ' is a true Irish Saga, and will give a better conception of how a bardic tale must have affected men's minds in the age when it was produced than any one unacquainted with Irish can gain from modem translation," — Cork Exaniiyier. ^ " Out of those rugged tales (Mr. Todhunter) has fashioned two de- lightful poems in which the poetic depth and feeling of the original have been at no point sacrificed to the demands of artistic finish. The metre which he has adopted, and which he wields with consummate skill, suggests well the simplicity and naturalness of the original." — Dublin Express, "'The Doom of the Children of Lir' (is) a noble rendering, the noblest rendering yet of one of the most beautiful of Ireland's ancient stories. This great bardic song need never be written by another modem poet." — Boston Pilot. A SICILIAN IDYLL a Pastoral piap IN TWO SCENES JOHN TODHUNTER AevTe vvv, dffpai Xapirtf, KaWiKO/uoi r£ Moiaai. — Sappho. LONDON ELKIN MATHEWS AT THE SIGN OF THE BODLEY HEAD IN VIGO STREET 1890 ^// rights reserved pl^RTioiiNTODnvHreR-^ TO FLORENCE EMERY. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Amaryllis ; "I _, , , _, J- Shepherdesses. Thestylis ; ) Alcander ; a Mountain Shepherd. Daphnis ; a Shepherd of the Vales. First Shepherd. Second Shepherd. Attendant on Amaryllis. Chorus of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Three days are supposed to elapse between the first and second scenes. ORIGINAL CAST. Amaryllis Miss Florence Farr. (Mrs. Edw. Emery.) THE:,rYLis .... . Miss Lily Linfield. (Mrs. a. L. Baldry.) Alcander Mr. H. M. Paget. Daphnis Mr. E. Heron Allen. First Shepherd Mr. Mowbray Marras. Second Shepherd .... Mr. W. Herbert Roe. Attendant Miss Christine Connell. The Prologue spoken by Mr. Mowbray Marras. Chorus. Mrs. Campbell Perugini, Mrs. Blair Leighton, Miss Christine Connell, Miss Janet Connell, Mr. Mowbray Marras, Mr. W. Herbert Roe, Mr. William Allen, Mr. T. Hamilton Jackson. Choruses and Incidental Music by Mr. B. Luard-Selby, The Dances arranged by Miss Lily Linfield. Stage Manager Mr. Alfred Lys Baldry. Date of first performance, Monday, May ^th, 1890. PROLOGUE. IF the pale shade of old Theocritus, Wandered from far Elysium, look on us With sad yet kindly smile, some genial ray Of olden sunshine, from the unwithered bay Crowning his brows, upon our pastoral stage Fall slantingly and bright, 'tis all our age Dare hope. Yet, though in sweet Sicilian air, Which but to breathe were cordial to all care. We walk not, his impassioned nightingale Visits us still, with the old rapturous tale Among our blossoming apple-trees by night. Shy and yet constant. So, not banished quite By Babel and its din, where once she set Her buskined feet in triumph, lingers yet The shy Muse in that Thespian bower she ranged Singing, ere yet. the speech of man was changed For tones unrhythmical. O, let none sneer If, singing still, she strive to charm your ear With vowelled verse, to set before your eyes An Idyll, picturing 'neath sunnier skies The shepherd folk of some dim age of gold. Which yet the laurelled bards in days of old Ne'er sang : another age, another art. And haply even the tir'd modern heart Still keeps its quiet pastoral places, where The shy Muse comes. O let us enter there. There sing, there dance, there act our comedy. And your good-will amend our poesy ! A SICILIAN IDYLL. SCENE I. The Shepherds' Dancing- Place. A circular space with marble mosaic pavement, skirted by a laurel thicket, and partly shaded by a pergola supported on pillars running diagonally across the stage. At the back of the stage (r. c), in an alcove at the end of the pergola, stands a terminal statue of Dionysus, crowned with vine-leaves and ripe grapes. The tall pedestal is wreathed with ivy, and around it in the alcove are dis- posed thyrsi and shepherds' crooks. Through the pergola is seen a spur of jEtna, with olive-woods and meadows sloping down to the sea. About half-way up the stage (l.) a marble seat runs around a small segment of the circular pavement, following its curve ; and over the back of this seat appears the distant sea, deep blue in the afternoon light. A smaller seat is placed at the foot of one of the pillars (r.), near the front of the stage. Enter Daphnis playing on his pipe. He breaks off abruptly and sits down on the smaller seat (r.). Daphnis. SAD sounds my pipCj sad as the sighing breath Voiced by its reed. \He lets the pipe fall.'] O cruel Amaryllis ! For thee my flocks, wanting their shepherd's care. D A SICILIAN IDYLL. Stray in the glens ; for thee the wandering bleat Of the lost lamb but calls some pitiless foe To still his tender plaint ; for thee their shepherd Strays, like the shade of an unburied man. Around the happy haunts of pastoral mirth : Wander, my flocks, your shepherd is astray ! Enter Thestylis from the back. She remains in the background leaning against the curved marble seat. Thes. Here, where his voice once led the gleeful choir. Our drooping Daphnis comes to make his moan 1 Daph. Ah, well-a-day ! maker of mirth no more, I shun the herdsmen's revels, hear far off Songs of that realm I enter now no more : Wander, my flocks, your shepherd is astray ! Feel from afar the dance thrill my slow feet. Which to the Muse's measure beat no more : Wander, my flocks, your shepherd is astray ! Thes. \_Aside.'\ Poor Daphnis 1 thy sad looks infect my heart, Which mocked at love, with pity for thy plight. \He sighs.] Ah, what a sigh was there ! And here I stay To catch the trick of sighing as I hear. Daph. [Rising, and pacing up anddown^ What boots it though my pipe charm on the boughs The silence of an hundred nightingales ? It charms not Amaryllis ; though my song Tame with sad sounds the fierce-eyed lynx, or move The gaunt and cub-drawn wolf in very ruth To spare the trembling kid between her paws ? It moves not Amaryllis. Wander still. A SICILIAN IDYLL. 7 My flocks forlorn ; for Daphnis never more Shall pasture you 'mid gleaming dews of morn : Stray, my sheep, for your shepherd is astray. Lead you at noon by shady streams, or ope, When Hesper lights his lamp, your fenced fold : Stray, my sheep, for your shepherd is astray. Thes. \_Jsiiie.'] No mateless bird, forsaken on the bough, Made ever more melodious threnody. Daph. Farewell, my half-grown lambs, and ewes new-shorn. Whose wealthy fleeces were my pride ; farewell My soft-eyed cows, from whose deep udders flow Rivers of milk ! No more I'll plead for love With unpersuasive breath. Thes. [JsMe.] Wisely resolved. But whither from these valleys will he flee ? Daph. There is a marsh my browsing goats have found Where the gaunt hemlock's pipy stems grow rank With lurid speckles, in whose clammy ceils Lurks death's oblivious wine. This will I drink, And lay me down by Amaryllis' door, — With the scorned singer's life end all my songs. Thes. [^^side.] O 'tis a fool ! And yet a sweet-voiced fool ! Did he woo me, I too might play the fool. And Eros, god of fools, have double praise. \^Sbe comes forward. Thou, Daphnis, here, preluding with fond words Deeds fonder yet ? Daph. Forbear me, Thestylis ! Thou art the cold companion of the scorn That ices my swift blood. Mock me not now ! [Is about to go. Thes. Stay, Daphnis ; for I bring thee ruth, not scorn. Lift, shepherd, lift thy heavy-lidded eyes. A SICILIAN IDYLL. Dull with long vigils of unhappy love. Mad lover, wilt thou carry thy sweet songs To Hades, and untimely rob the world And leave thy lovers mourning ? [Sbe takes up his pipe. Take again Thy flute of sweetest stop. Play, sing, and live. [He turns away. Daph. Hope shuns me : I am out of love with life. Thes. All things that live may hope ; the dead alone Stare from the sullen gloom with hopeless eyes. Come, sing no more to savage brakes and fells. Or that more savage still, a loveless heart ; But sing to me, and glut my passionate ear With music of thy passion : sing to me ! [Offering the pipe. Daph. [Taking it.'] Can the dead sing ? I am a fleeting ghost. An alien in the sun of human joy. And thou, her comrade, whose disdain's cold air 1 breathe and die in, O what recks thy heart Of love ? Wherefore begone and mock me not ! [Places the pipe in his belt, and turns away. Thes. Sad shepherd, I am pity, not disdain. And come to crave the pity that I yield, [She sighs. Being fallen into thy case. Daph. [ Turning to her.] Most wretched maid ! Thes. Eros, the potent god, hath quelled my spirit With one swift bolt. Daphnis, I love, I love — A youth, Daphnis, a youth who loves not me. [They move up the stage towards the seat. Daph. Can love's soft dews bedim the shining morn, Thestylis, of those eyes ? Women can weep False tears, I know, with laughter on their lips : A SICILIAN IDYLL. 9 Vet wilt thou play with me, I'll play a while For very luxury of woe, with thee. Thes. [_Siitmg.] O, could I sing like thee, solace my woe With lovely words that kiss each other quick In-dancing rhymes, forsooth I would not die ! Daph. Alas 1 to sing is to redouble pain ; For when I make sweet songs of happy love, How passionate Cynthia through the ambrosial dusk Of the scarce-whispering laurels, in sweet shame, Stole to her Latmian shepherd, I grow faint With imaged blisses mocking empty arms. O Tantalus, o'er-pitied Tantalus, Thy torments are but the shadows of the state Of him who loves unloved ! Thes. A silver tongue, Daphnis, thou givest my hidden bitter wound. O love! — I knew not what an ancient woe Lived in that word, till now I hear thee speak. Daph. O flee my tongue, whose plaint infects the wind With its own sadness, and attunes the voice Of every wandering echo in the woods To sighing falls ; ay, every rock and tree, The birds, the streams, the melancholy glades Most loved of brooding Pan, I have taught them all To utter but one word, whose venomed sweetness Is death to hear : Love, Love ! But her disdain Looks from the eyes of heaven, whence all night long Ten thousand flames of virgin cruelty Flash scorn on love and me. Thes. l^Ruing, and laying her hand on his shoulder.^ Come, Daphnis, come ! c 10 A SICILIAN IDYLL. We two lost creatures, let us to the wilds ; With murmured songs and sad antiphonies. There let us court oblivion. Come away! Daph. The Hyblan bees, flying from Etna's flank. Crawl drunken from the luscious ivy-flowers, O'er-surfeited with sweets ; and, richly fed. Die of their ecstasy : I starve on sighs. Oh, I must herd with all despisW things. With all defeated things, despairing things ; A drone, thrust from the comfortable hive To dream of honey-drops, die of the sting ! Thes. Nay, Daphnis, lift thy head in manly pride. Tears are for women's eyes; with plaints of woe Was never woman won. Come, in sad sport Call me thy Amaryllis, woo me so ; I'll teach thee how to woo, and win thy suit. Daph. I'll call thee death, and woo thee then indeed. With all love's sweetest, most endearing names. [Music heard. But hark ! I hear the hated sound of mirth ! Here to their dancing-place the shepherds come. With pipe and throbbing tabor. Hence, away ! \Exit by upper entrance, l. Thes. Now, Daphnis, thou shalt gaze into mine eyes. See thine own image there, and learn to love The flattering mirror that doth image thee. {Exit, following him. Enter (r.) Chorus of Youths and Maidens, crowned with ivy, and with thyrsi in their hands, and led by a Priest of Bacchus, bearing an amphora of new wine. They sing a hymn to Bacchus, moving rhythmically over the stage. a sicilian idyll. ii Hymn to Bacchus. Strophe. O thou, renowned by many a mystic name, Lord of the vintage, Bacchus, who dost cheer With glory of the grape the sun-burnt year. With wine the heart of labour — wine whose flame, Stol'n from the sun for man's delight. Crowns winter's cup with golden summer's grace ! God of the flaming face, We hail thee, genial god ! Come to us now With festal footsteps o'er the glowing earth. And purple clusters nodding round thy brow. Welcomed with every seasonable rite. Dances, and pastoral mirth ! Antistrophe. But come not, as to those who love thee not. Thy panther Mcenads with their panther kin Furiously leaping to the frantic din Of clashing cymbals, their flush'd faces hot, Smear'd from limbs torn in the glare Of blazing torches reeling through the smoke ! Come, worshipt of our folk. Lord of the mellowing year ! Come, for we come With ankles splash'd with vintage, honouring thee With must from foaming vats ; bless now thy home. Dear as grey Thebes, or Nysa of sweet air, Thy own laughing Sicily ! Vintage Dance. 12 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Then enter Amaryllis (l.), a wine-cup in her hand. They salute her, and the Pmest pours mine from the amphora into her cup. Amaryl. Now to the bounteous god, whose opulent hand Is potent on our vineyards and our vines. Honour be given ! \She makes a libation.\ Hail, jocund vintagers ! I bid you to our customary feast. Wide, for your welcome, open stand my doors. Swept is the threshing-floor, my damsels wait By tables ranged and ready. Welcome all ! 1ST Shep. Thanks, Amaryllis, whom all gods conspire To bless with all the wealth our peasants prize. And beauty more desired than flocks and herds. All. Bacchus ! Hail, Bacchus ! On to the vintage feast ! [Amaryllis seats herself on the upper seat. Exeunt Chorus, l. Enter Thestylis behind. She bends over the seat and kisses Amaryllis. Amaryl. Where, Thestylis, have strayed thy truant feet These three long days ? This. \Sits beside Amaryllis.] Something I am to blame ; Yet, most dear Amaryllis, chide me not. Amaryl. But wherefore in good sooth growest thou so strange ? Hast thou a sorrow, and not share with me ? A joy not halved with me and doubled so ? Thes. Believe me, I am still thy constant friend. Amaryl. Still, Thestylis ? That still sounds ominously ! Hast thou not been the sister of my choice. Dearer than one born of my father's blood ; Of more immortal kinship ? A SICILIAN IDYLL. 1 3 Thes. That I am. Amaryl. Have we not, friendship's twins, with linkM arms Walked in one way, content? Have we not vowed Our souls in maiden wedlock to each other. And railed at love, the enemy of our vows 1 Thes. Ay, we have railed at love. But, Amaryllis Amaryl. What ! has that subtle foe with flattering guile Won thy fond worship ? Am I left alone ? Thes. I would but plead for one who loves thee well. I have seen Daphnis, but so woe-begone, So pale with poring long on passion's book. So out of love with life, I could not choose But pity him. Thyself hadst pitied him. Amaryl. [Rismg impatiently and crossing, r.] These are the tricks of men, to win the tears Of silly girls. Thes. \Folhwing herJ\ What if the man should die For love of thee ? For so, by every oath Our love-lorn shepherds use, he swears he will. Amaryl. Now by our own true love thou angerest me With such swift dotage I Daphnis die of love ! Ay, a fair death in words ; and yet live on To see maids weeping o'er his epitaph. For love of me or thee, or any woman, Never went man to sleep under the clods His transient pain away. The fabled swan Dies singing, the crost lover loves again. Thes. It is a foolish fashion of our vales That men whom love ne'er slevv foredo themselves. Thinking they die of love. So Battus gave His bright head to the keeping of the sea, 14 A SICILIAN IDYLL. When Gorgo had undone him with her scorn. Amaryl. Fear not for Daphnis. Sick self-love, that makes With fond conceit many a tall shepherd pale, Hath set the stripling pining for a dream. Thes. For dreams men die. It is a world of dreams. We clothe ourselves in dreams, we clothe in dreams The naked limbs of life that we may live Unscathed of the dread vision ; and the glimpse 'Twixt fading dream and dream is dangerous to us. For Daphnis, in that perilous pass, I fear. The sickness he had caught from thy cold eyes Sits heavy on him now. The man will die. Amaryl. [Crossing, l.] Give him fair burial then, in thine own arms, For thou art dead, the Thestylis I knew. And I must weep for thee. [Sitting, and turning to Thestylis"] O Thestylis, How I have loved thee ! Thy sweet looks, thy words, Thy tones live in me still. Thy little gifts. Small dainty things thy hands in secret wrought For tokens of thy love, I have kept them all. Thes. As I keep thine. [Approaches her. Amaryl. And now, like summer's birds. They will come no more. O, what a secret glee Made vivid every sense when I could think My thoughts would soon wed thine ! My murmuring heart In absence ever kept sweet dialogue With thine. And now, O,now,that music's done! [Turns away. Thes. [Kneeling and clasping Amaryllis.] Gusts of a more imperious music now Thrill me, as song-birds thrill the April woods ; A SICILIAN IDYLL. If A thousand sad sweet thoughts are vocal in me, And long to sing their secrets in thine ear. Amaryl. [Rising.] Better go cast thy limbs into the lire, Or dungeon up thy body from the sun. Than scorch thy being in love's bitter flame ! [Crosses, l., and comes down the stage. Thes. I cannot tell. My mother loved a man : I fear I am her daughter. Amaryl. I have seen The tedious tragedies of woman's life No poet's tongue dare sing, too mean, too common To tread the scene in pomp of tragic words ; The sullen agonies, the ageing cares. The dull disease whereof poor famished love Dies dumbly hour by hour a lingering death. Thes. [Approaching.] But wherefore should love die, folding his wings Among the household gods, whose homely forms Catch splendour from the rapture of his face ? Amaryl. Alas ! if love were all that women dream. His were a name worth worship ; and the light Of his stern face would so renew the world. The race of man would grow divine as he ; For we are priestesses of that pure flame Whose temple is the soul ; but our dull shepherds Honour a power unknown with wanton rites And gross initiations, clowns unschooled. Who serve their uncouth image of the god. But not the god indeed. Thes. Thou, Amaryllis, Hast ever roamed the mind's high mountain-peaks. 1 6 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Lone shepherdess of thought's wide-wandering flocks. I am the creature of a lowlier sphere, And love the broken colours of this earth, Its trivial joys, its very household cares That move thy spleen. My hand upon the loom Sets my heart singing to the busy purr Of the swift shuttle. Heaven's bright waggoner, Who trots his punctual round with pleasant face, Tasking and toiling, claims me of his school. For day by day he comes with jovial cheer. Comforts man's lot, and ripes his corn, and swells His grapes with delicate juice : so, in his sight. Run I my daily round of cheerful toil. I fear I am in love with dull content ; My very dreams are woven of common things. Amaryl. Nay, thou art worthier far than I ! the bright Creative word of love is potent in thee. Thy daily tasks are ministries of love. I am the brooding sorrow of this earth. Pining for things to come. But, Thestylis, I grudge thee, with more desperate jealousy Than a mere sister's, for I love thee more. To any sighing shepherd of them all. Thes. Must the poor shepherd lack his shepherdess ? Methinks the power that shaped us man and maid Moves us to dance in couples, not alone. Amaryl. Ay, were the bonds but equal, mate with mate. Twin-yoked in love ! But all the world's awry. War in our souls, our very loves are wars Where one alone keeps treaty. When a man Sits like a conqueror in a captive town. A SICILIAN IDYLL. 1 7 No more sweet words, no kind observances — Ah ! Thestylis, wilt thou wed a swarm of cares, Slave for a thankless lord, nurse crying babes Who, like ungrateful nestlings, quit the nest And leave it cold, because a shepherd sighs ? [Moves up the stage and sits. Thes. a grain of love savours a peck of cares. \_F allows, and leans over the back of the seat. But, tell me, Amaryllis, hast thou never Caught thy heart sighing for a love beyond The friendship of a girl ? Amaryl. I would" not change it For the contemptuous lordship of a fool. Thes. Nor I, in sooth. Amaryl. But Thes. Well ? Amaryl. If I did love, I should be dangerous to the man I loved. No more of these vain dreams : I thank the gods I love no man ! Thes. {Coming round the seat and crossing to l.J No man is worth thy love, Since heroes come no more. But now farewell ! I must go seek my sighing counterpart. When our great baby, man, cries for the moon, We must e'en comfort him. Amaryl. Provide him then Corals to cut his wisdom-teeth upon. Or much I fear the babe will bite his nurse. Thes. Corals or none, the babe will bite his nurse. Amaryl. Farewell ! 1 8 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Thes. Farewell, sweet sister of my soul : Despise me not too much, and love me still. \_Exit THESTYilS, L. Amaryl. [Gazing after her!\ Is friendship too a dream ? this wingless love I have templed in my breast, can he fly too ? I am grown old in loving, and my heart. Blank as a house where lies the master dead. Crowned with pale funeral flowers, looks on a world Grown suddenly grey. Who shall inhabit now The emptied chambers ? What shall ever break Its dismal peace, where not a sound of life Flutters the ordered silence of its halls ? \She remains musing. Enter (r.) Alcander. He comes near her unperceived. Alcan. \_Aside.^ This should be that disdainful shepherdess I come to woo. Now boldness be my speed ! \_Jloud.'\ Pardon, fair maiden, that with tongue too rude I break your reverie. Amaryl. Who speaks ? Alcan. A man. Amaryl. 'Tis a brave title. \_She looks gravely at him. Alcan. An amazing one I Amaryl. Not so. The title truly is not rare. Alcan. No, nor methinks the thing it signifies. Amaryl. [Rising and coming down the stage, l.] Well, I have seen many a tall bearded shape That called itself a man, was not a woman, And went erect upon two legs like man. And yet Alcan. Yet? A SICILIAN IDYLL. I9 Amaryl. Lacked erectness of the mind. The soul, methought, like some dull grazing beast, Looked ever on the ground. Alcan. They were in love. Went they not so ? {Paces to and fro.] With such head-hanging sighs ? Their arms crost thus ? Some woman was the cause. Amaryl. Some woman ? Alcan. Ay. Are we not women's sons, And made or marred by women f For this love 'Tis a most foolish passion. Amaryl. Have you felt it, That you deride it so ? Alcan. Well, ay, and no. I am too much in love to keep in love With any woman I have ever seen. Unseen I love them all, most constantly. Amaryl. What lacked they then, the women you have seen ? Alcan. Nothing, but that which, lacking, they lacked all : The power that draws, as the moon draws the waves. The tides of manhood to their highest flood ; That kindles soul and sense into one flame ; That rouses, and assuages, and sustains The spirit of passion in us, till to love Mates us with heroes. Lacking this, anon They set me yawning. \_Sits on smaller seat, r.] Ye gods, breathes there no woman To drain the aching homage of my heart 1 Amaryl. \_Aside.] Here is a man in jest speaks mysteries. \_Aloud.'\ 'Tis with yourself then that you are in love. 20 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Have you not spied in some clear mountain pool Your sun-crowned image and adored it straight ? Alcan. \_Springing up and moving towards her.] Not so, by Heracles ! I am too much A man to love the image of a man ! I love an unseen woman ; but am come Into these valleys to be cured of love. Amaryl. How cured ? Alcan. E'en by the sight of her. Amaryl. You seem A most strange lover. Alcan". A most ardent one. I have sought her, dark or fair, an hundred times, Called her in secret by an hundred names. Each the fair label of a bride so fair She baffled poor conceiving ; but when I came In sight of her, lo ! the shy nymph was gone. And in her place a pitiful siren smiled. Amaryl. Haply you knew her not, though there she stood. 'Twras but some imperfection in the eye Through which you looked, no true defect in her. Alcan. Ay, some imperfect blindness, very like ; For love, they say, is blind. It may be so. Amaryl. Then are you no true lover. But you yourself, Are you so rich in graces, built so high In all perfections, that you cannot stoop To match save with perfection ? Alcan. Oh, for me, I count myself neither the iirst of men,' Nor yet the meanest — all the more a man : A SICILIAN IDYLL. 21 Most precious to myself, and, being framed Of infinite desires, resolved to reign King of the world 1 conquer. Wherefore then Should I content myself but with the best ? Amaryl. \_Ap-proachvng him.'] You speak not like a shepherd of these vales, And wear the Phrygian bonnet, as I see. Come you from far ? Alcan. Out of the fires of Troy, Whose siege blind Homer sang. Amaryl. O wonderful ! So many centuries old, and not yet grey ? Alcan. My stock I mean. Alcander is my name, Evander's son. Yonder my mountain home. Amaryl. Are you then that Alcander, who bore off So many prizes from the harvest games. Our wondering shepherds vowed that Heracles Was come again in you ? Alcan. No Heracles I boast myself, but surely that Alcander. Amaryl. You have done great things, Alcan. A unit in the van Of many ciphers may look monstrous big. Yet in itself be but a cipher still. Amaryl. Nay, you o'erthrew stout ^gon, and out-ran Wing-footed Corydon, best of their time. But, for this nymph you seek, in what fair name Has the hoarse beldame Rumour crooned to you The inventory of her charms ? Alcan. To find her home. For somewhere here she dwells, did I accost you. 22 A SICILIAN IDYLL, Her name is Amaryllis, and her sire Damxtus left her late vineyards and farms. And wealth in flocks and herds ; but let them be ; For me, I set no store by sheep and goats, Or such base cattle, while a woman's by. Amaryl. How, then, speaks Rumour of this new unseen Perfection that you follow i Alcan. Very ill. She is proclaimed a shrew ; but beautiful. Cruel to men, they say ; but beautiful. Colder than mountain snows ; but beautiful To abash the tongue of praise ! therefore I love her. A most unnatural maid, she hates all men. Therefore I love her ! Nature, moulding her, Disdained her commoH patterns ; therefore I love her. Amaryl. You praise her very strangely. Alcan. By report. Amaryl. And you have sought her to be cured of love ? Alcan. Ay, I have been too long love's fool, and now I come to see her, and be cured of love. Amaryl. See, and be cured then : I am Amaryllis. Alcan. Alas, how Rumour lies! [_Sits on seat {t..') and gazes at ber.^ They said your skin Was whiter far than snow, redder your lips Than coral just o'erwhispered by the surge. Your hair more lustrous than the noonday sun. Your voice the nightingale's, your eyes twin stars. Each bright as Sirius when Orion soars With pendant feet above the southern wave ; If so, I am gone blind. Amaryl. Nay, you have seen. A SICILIAN IDYLL. 23 And so are cured. ^Sbe turns away. Alcan. [Rising and approaching."] Oh, by no means! My cure Is not so light a thing. Think you I came To clasp a bride of snow, to vex my lips With kissing coral, or to fret mine eyes With staring on the noonday sun ? Not so ; I came to find* woman such as you. No more, no less, and in her eyes my fate. Amaryl. You are the strangest wooer I have known. Pity you come so far to seek your fate : You must go bootless home. Alcan. Ay, it were pity I should go bootless home. But I trust well I shall not. Having seen you, I have found The one worth winning. And you, do you not feel The deeps within you rise in sudden flood At the calling of your fate ? Amaryl. No. Alcan. But you shall. Or Rumour spoke one truth : you have no heart. Amaryl. Perhaps I have no heart. \_Moves up towards the upper seat. Alcan. Put it to proof; Give me — you will ? — before we part, one kiss. Amaryl. Shepherd, you grow too bold ! {Retires up the stage towards the alcove. Alcan. [Leaning against the seat.] I would dare all To win you, and will dare. There is an old Rough wooer's custom in our mountain glens. That he who woos must strive for a first kiss ; 'Twill serve me here. \He approaches her. 24 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Amaryl. \_Rushing towards front of stage.'\ Back, madman ! Alcan. {Grasping her arm.'\ Love is mad. \^He clasps her in his arms. They struggle. He kisses her. You have fought well, but I rest conqueror. \She bursts his hold. Amaryl. Rough clown, begone ! Alcan. Oh, fairest, pardon me ! Never again will I demand from you Save what you freely give. Amaryl. [Half-drawing her dagger."] If I should kill you ! Alcan. You will not. That imperious heart of yours I felt but now bounding beneath my hand Will plead for me. As well hold back the sun From rising, or keep out the leaping tide, Or stay the operation of the winds, As bar out love, co.Tie at his destined hour. Amaryl. Begone ! [Sheathes dagger. Alcan. I will begone, till you recall me, [Retiring, r. I am your fate, remember, and you mine. [Exit Alcander, r. Amaryl. [Pacing restlessly.] I have drunk the wine of Circe, and my sense Reels in some hateful change. The mirroring brook As I pass by, will shew me a changed face : I am no more myself. What hath he seen In me : what base connivance of my soul, That he should dare this outrage ? Still I feel The power of his bold eyes, still bear about me His arms' captivity 1 Oh, to be free From these tyrannic moments that bear chains To clank long years upon the limbs of life A SICILIAN IDYLL. 25 And shame the careless past ! This place of mirth Grows dreadful, and the vines tangling the boughs Seem webs on the dark loom of weaving fate. My thoughts grow mad ! END OF SCENE I. $ SCENE II. The Shepherd's Dancing-Place. Night. Thestylis discovered seated on the smaller seat (r.), Alcander standing by her. Thestylis. YOU have done more than all our shepherds could. « Alcan. Why, what brave deed is that ? Thes. Have you not won A kiss from Amaryllis ? Alcan. I take shame It was so rudely won. Oh, had you seen her. The lightning in her eyes, her cheeks aflame With sudden anger, then so sternly pale ; Her lips, more gracious than the lily's flower In their proud sculpture, curved in scorn ; and I The clownish wind, rough spoiler of her sweets. That shook that splendid lily ! I could have knelt And kist her virgin feet, and sued for pardon, E 26 A SICILIAN IDYLL. How she must hate me ! Thes. Ay, but of such hate May love be born. Trust me, she thinks of you. You have made fever in her days and nights. Filled her with visions, shaken her with strange thoughts. Two days and nights she is a vexhd sea, Restless and moody as the wild-eyed herds When Pan afflicts. What wonder if she hate you ? Alcan. Even such a trouble hath she sown in me. Were I a man of words, I could become A sigher like the rest, and hang my head. Making of her sweet name a thousand songs. Thes. If songs could win her, every sighing- swain Had had his part of her, ere you came by. Alcan. Well, by the gods, I have no trick of song. And love no other music than her name. divine Amaryllis ! O barren phrase To sound the wordless worship of my soul ! My manhood, matched with her perfection, seems A graceless churl, with sacrilegious hand Making assault upon the golden doors Of Cynthia's temple, till the victory 1 dreamed of looks a crime. Thes. Be not cast down ; So love conspire to give you victory, She will forgive her victor. Alcan. O that fate Would set a hundred heroes in her view And bid me match them all, though each exploit Cost me a death achieving ! Each proud drop. Warm from my breast, would laugh to kiss her feet. A SICILIAN IDYLL. 27 Uttering Alcander's love. Might she not give me For guerdon, ere I died, one gracious smile ? Thes. Why, that were more than singing. But keep your blood ; You shall have better comfort than a smile To light you Charon's way. One living lover Were, for my choosing, worth a dozen dead. Enter Daphnis, l. He remains at the side, half-hidden by a laurel-bush. Thes. \_Aside.\ Now god of jealousy, arm the god of love. And we shall play the daintiest comedy ! Alcan. You give me hope then ? Enter from the back Amaryllis. Thes. Kiss my hand upon it. \_He kisses her hand. Daph. [^Aside."] What man is this ? O Thestylis, I see Thou art become the general comforter ! Thes. \To Alcander.J Here comes my lover with his heart in twain. Help me to make it whole. Come, woo me, woo me ! Alcan. [Taking her hands."] 1 have twin kids, fairest of that fair breed That makes iny father's wealth : these with their dam I'll give thee ; and a bowl of sycamore Well-carved and waxed, and virgin to the lip. So thou but look with favour on my suit. Daph. [Aside."] O veering mind of woman ! Shall I speak ? Thes. Go, fetch thy offering : words are empty breath. [Exit Alcander, r. Amaryl. [Aside.] O now I see that I have been the sport 28 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Of this most common wooer ! Swift to my vengeance, Before this insult grows a shepherd's tale ! \_Exit Amaryllis at the back of the, stage, l. Thes. [Aside^ Love in her heart and hatred on her brows Speeds Amaryllis like a summer storm. And now for Daphnis. [ To Daphnis. J Ha ! what man art thou ? Alcander ? Daph. Daphnis ! O false Thestylis ! Sink not thy lids for shame to look on me ? Thes. Wherefore ? To look upon an eaves-dropper ? But thou wilt keep my counsel, gentle youth ? Daph. I'll to the wilds and live a savage man. For there's no truth in woman. Thes. What is this i Daph. Thy kindness is as fickle as the sea. Vain as the solace of a flattering wind That sets the ship singing upon her course. Then strikes anon the shuddering sail aback. Thes. O man's ingratitude ! Daph. Didst thou not swear A thousand pretty oaths to be my friend. To follow me through the world, make me once more In love with glosing life ? Yet now, forsooth Thes. You deem yourself a master with his maid. May I not hear a wooer ? Have I not Plodded your errands, pleaded your lost cause With Amaryllis, angered her with my tears. Made rash divorce in very flowering-time Between the close-twined branches of our love. To gain but gloomy looks, cross words from you ? Daph. Mock me no more with the forgotten tune A SICILIAN IDYLL. 29 Of Amaryllis' name. O Thestylis, Thou knowest full well with what a conquering charm Of gentle tones and looks thou hast beguiled me. Why came thy face haunting the dusk of dreams. Where Amaryllis, like a setting star. Sank out of seeing ? All my love for her Seems but the memory of a crocus-flower. Whose transient flame in cold unbudded woods Heralds the coming spring, to one imbathed In blithe and glowing air, when golden May Peoples with summer lilies plain and hill. Thes. Sits the wind so ? And have I won the prize Of thy inconstant heart ? Daph. Inconstant ? Ay, As the unresting flower that seeks her god With ever-roaming gaze. So, constant still To love, I turn from an outwearied hope To find the very substance of that hope. Thes. You turn from fickle thoughts to flattering words. Daph. If I have doted on the alien stars In the absence of the sun, 'twas but the dim Fore-feeling of the worship I should render His genial presence when he rose indeed. And, Thestylis, I thought the sun was up. And all his comfort shining in thine eyes. I was deceived. Farewell, live happily ! I'll to the untrodden glades, where brooding Pan Pipes to his unkind love, shepherd the clouds Of fantasy, and tame with sad sweet song The satyr's uncouth tribes. Thes. Stay, Daphnis, stay ! 30 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Daph. I'll live no more the mirth of laughing girls. [Exit, a. Thes. Nay, thou shah find me clinging as the burr Caught in the tangles of the curling fleece. [Exitjfollozaijig him. Enter Amaryllis with an Attendant carrying a tripod with a brazier of burning coals. Amaryl. Set it down here. Give me the magic herbs, The barley and the wax, and now begone ! Wait on my call. \_Exit the Attendant, l. Amaryllis casts incense on thejire. Ay, leap, thou flickering flame, avenge me well On him who hath filled my breast with throbbing fire ! \She begins her incantation, pacing around the tripod. The Incantation, Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! Calling on thee by thy most dreadful name, Hecate ; thou who through the shuddering night Pacest where black pools of fresh-offered blobd Gleam cold beside the barrows of the dead : Dread goddess, draw him dying to my feet ! Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! The deep moans at thy coming, and the pines Murmur and shed their pungent balm ; scared wolves Howl in the glens, and dogs, with bristling hair. Whine as thou standest in the triple way : Dread Mother, draw him dying to my feet ! A SICILIAN IDYLL. 3I Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! Around this bowl I have tied in scarlet wool Witch-knots against Alcander. Let him feel As many pangs in his false heart, who kissed My lips in mockery and disdains me now : Dread goddess, draw him dying to my feet ! Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! I cast this barley on the fire, and say : " Even so I scatter strong Alcander's bones ! " I fling these laurel-leaves upon the fire. And say : " So let his flesh be shrivelled up ! " Dread Mother, draw him dying to my feet ! Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! Lo, as I melt this wax, melt thou his heart, Alcander's heart \_She breaks her incantation, and remains standing over the tripod, the wax still in her hand. Alas ! my spells are vain. Upon myself My charms take hold. My flesh burns, and my heart Is melted in the furious fires of love. And my hate burns : I love him, yet I know That now he loves me not, he loves me not ! \_She moves restlessly over the stage. I am no stronger than the common tribe Of women, whom I scorned when tyrant love Moved them to piteous deeds — abandonments. Abasements ; and amazed find in myself That hungering heart which makes us passion's fools ! \She recommences her incantation, pacing around the tripod. 32 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Hear me, Selene, for to thee I sing ! I love him, I love him, him who loves me not. And that is shame. O turn his heart to me. Or smite him dead, and let me die with him. And hide me in the grave from my own scorn : Dread Mother, draw him only to my feet ! IShe kans against a pillar, l. c. Short symphony. Then enter Alcander (r.) swooning, borne in by two Shepherds. They lay him upon the marble seat, then salute Amaryllis. 2ND Shep. Hail, Amaryllis ! Alcander bids thee hail ! \Exeunt Shepherds, r. Amaryl. What have I done ? \^She stands gazing at Ai^ck^Dza. I knew not what I did. \_She approaches him. So soon struck down ! Dead, or in a trance f Not dead. Not .surely dead. Alcander, speak to me! O speak to me ! \He opens his eyes. Alcan. \&ternlyA^ Look on thy work, enchantress. Amaryl. All amazed To think it is my work. O how fare you ? Alcan. In mercy take thy sorceries from my heart. Amaryl. I will unweave my spells. \^She tears the woollen cord from the bowl, and extinguishes the fire in the brazier. Mother of charms, Scatter upon the winds my baleful words, Defeat their operation on this man, Or turn upon myself their malison ! A SICILIAN IDYLL. 33 l^Calling.] Praxinoe ! {^Enter Attendant.] Hence with this accursed thing. [The Attendant removes the tripod. Alcan. {Recovering.^ For this swift succour, thanks ! I feel the touch Of the cool fingers of delicious ease. But hast thou taken harm .? [He attempts to rise. Amaryl. Behold I stand Unscathed ! Alcan. [Sinking iaci."] Then let me die, but die for- given Love's reckless wrong. To thy stern maidenhood I bring stern expiation : here I lie. My manhood's pride the strength of a sick babe, And I, who loved the ardours of life's day As eagles love the sun, untimely sent To pace the pallid coasts of Acheron. Amaryl. Thou shalt not die. My frantic fury played With rites unholy, like a petulant child, When thou didst slight me with a feigned love, Alcan. [Ha// rising.] A feigned love? I loved, and love thee still. As all oaths that ever lover swore Could never tell thee. Amaryl. Flatteries do me wrong, I claim the simple courtesy of truth. Didst thou not woo the laughing Thestylis, My own false friend, with lover's gifts this night ? Alcan. Thestylis ? I wooed her but in pretty sport. By swift suggestion of her prankish wit, To move her amorous Daphnis, who stood by In jealous ambush, to more jealousy. 34- A SICILIAN IDYLL. Amakyl. [JsiJe.] Daphnis! I had forgot him. [Jhud.] Oh, is this true ? Alcan. Yea, by the soul of truth in thine own soul, And in my heart, whose weak o'ermastered tides Thou hast made ebb from the fair coasts of life, As through thy hate I die for love of thee. Amaryl. Alas ! I hate thee not. I strove to hate thee. And impotently wrestled with some god I would not know, and dared not name. But now r would recall those proud insurgent waves To triumph on the sunniest shores of joy. Alcan. Nay, I must die. There is no cordial now Can raise me up, save one ; so rare a thing I may not have it, dare not ask — thy love. Amaryl. I have no pride to lie to thee, and say I love thee not ; no shame to say I love thee, Since that is true. I know it now — I love thee ! And thus I prove the virtue of my love 1 [She kisses him on the forehead. His strength return-' Alcan. Now let the nightingales burst into song. The stars make sudden day in the clear heaven ! There is more potency in thy sweet lips Than in a' thousand charms. O not thy spells, Thy incantations and wild sorceries Were deadly to me, but thy merited hate ! Reach now thy hands, raise me up, draw me back From the cold sunless regions of the dead. \She extends her hands to him. He takes them and stands ui Amaryl. If thou hadst gone indeed that gloomy way I would have followed thee, as faithfully As love's clear planet, handmaid of the sun. A SICILIAN IDYLL. 35 Follows her lord beneath the whelming waves. Alcan. \Coming forward, c.J Now let me drink the odorous air of night. Breathe the soft wind that murmurs from yon pines. This is the breath of life ; the winds of life Flatter my breast with bliss, the sap of life Sweeps revelling through my blood, and my strong heart Laughs like a giant, with an uncouth joy. To taste the infinite pleasures of this world. Amaryl. I am thy murderess ; kill me ! \Casts herself at his feet. Alcan. \Ratsing her.] Nay, I live By thee, would raise thee to the measureless height Of my proud worship, stoop and kiss thy feet ; Thy charms, more potent than Medea's drugs. Have made my youth twice young. Amaryl, Alas ! my arts Were subtle treacheries against thy life. I hold my own at ransom. Alcan. Give me thyself In perfect free surrender. Come to me ! [^She moves gravely towards him. He takes her in his arms. Amaryl. I think I have surrendered. I am come To a new wondrous country : yet not new. Familiar as a child's remembered home. Have we not met before, and loved before. Loved through long cycles of some golden age } But can'st thou love me indeed f Say it once more. How often have I laughed at lovers' vows. Yet now, methinks, I could half weep to hear 36 A SICILIAN IDYLL. Some foolish passionate oath of constancy That lovers swear when they forswear themselves. Alcan. Possess me w^ith such high and passionate thoughts As novy leap forth, teemed from conception's cell. And make me thine, past power to be forsworn. I love thee so I will not desecrate Our love's eternal moment with vain breath. And the mere profanation of an oath. Amaryl. Then swear not, only say — ^say what thou wilt ; But let me die when I am no more loved ! Alcan. If the fine ecstasy of this rich night Were centred all in one pulsating star Of life, love, triumph, I could boast that now I wear it in my breast. I am filled with thee As winter's veins with philtres of the spring. Amaryl. And I am grown a woman in thine arms, Where I have found my home. The mystery Of my transfigured soul holds me with awe. And strikes a silence through me, as of streams Hushed by the might of the invading sea. Alcan. 'Tis I who have grown a babbler, 1 who have won The noblest woman won by headstrong man Since Theseus clasped his buskined Amazon. Qreatness is in thy gift, fame in thy smile ; Oh, make me great, lay thy commands on me ! There must be battles for a man to fight Beyond the deeds of Heracles, or all That keeps the laurels green on Theseus' head. Amaryl. Can I inspire thee so ? I did not dare To dream the heroic fires of such a love Could catch their flame from me ; and I grow faint A SICILIAN IDYLL. 37 In the amazement of so deep a joy, Alcan. Be thou perpetual priestess of that flame. \_He leads her to the marble seat. They sit. Come, sit : and let the ecstatic nightingale Speak from the heart of silence to our hearts. Short symphony. Then enter Thestylis and Daphnis. Daph. So wonderful a night there has not been, A night so entranced with the spirit of love. Since in the silver silence of the woods Pale Cynthia woke Endymion with a kiss. And now, methinks, since that fond hour she keeps Her tenderest benison for all lovers true. Thes. Ay, and to-night love hath changed bows with her, Or slyly filled her quiver from his own. Look, Daphnis, where our cruel Shepherdess Belies her fame ! Art thou not jealous now ? Daph. Ay, Thestylis, of every coaxing wind That whispers in thy hair, kisses thy cheek. But thou shouldst here be jealous ; for this man, Thy last-won lover, looks another way. Where are those kids, tribute of thy bright eyes. He promised thee but now ? Come, thou wert best Content thyself with my wide-feeding flocks. Shepherd their shepherd ; or, in maiden spite. Go live as lonely as yon maiden moon. Thes. A fair choice truly ! Well, when through the gap Goes one wise sheep the flock will follow sure. Come, Daphnis, I must be content with thee. Daph. \Embracing her.] Be our content a sea, so wide and deep. 38 A SICILIAN IDYLL. That we shall ne'er sail o'er, but halcyon-like Upon its bosom build our floating nest. Thes. 'Tis a blithe night for the young archer god ! Four daintier quarries he hath never struck Plump with his golden shaft. O liberty, ' ' Dear maiden liberty, must I so soon Forego thy sweets ! And now for Amaryllis ; Haply she hath forgot her chiding mood. [_S/be approaches Amaryllis. Mark, Amaryllis, what a noble friend Thou hast in me, who freely pardon thee Though thou hast broken all our friendship's vows. And stolen my lover ! Amaryl. Fair play, Thestylis, For thou didst first steal mine. Thes, a fair exchange ; Or shall we change again ? In sooth I care not. So there be peace between us. Amaryl. [Kissing her.} Peace and love ! Alcan. Daphnis, I give thee joy. Daph. As deep a bliss Be thine, and many days to taste that bliss. Alcan. [Taking Amaryllis by the hand and hading her forward^ Well, I have found the woman that I sought. Yet am not cured of love. Fair Thestylis, Thine are the honours of this festal night. And thou shalt claim thy guerdon from my flocks. Daph. I thank thee in her name, and for thy gift Thou shalt not lack from me a nuptial song. Thes. Hail, conquering Eros, thou shalt be the lord A SICILIAN IDYLL. 39 Of all our flocks and herds! Amaryl. And hearts and homes. Enter Chorus of Youths and Maidens crowned with myrtle, and with branches of amaranth in their hands. They sing a Hymn to Love, and at the Epode crown the lovers with myrtle and amaranth. Hymn to Love. Strophe. God of the all-conquering bow, First-born yet youngest of all gods, Eros, for men hymn thee so. With amaranth and fair myrtle rods We come, thy suppliants : myrtle pale For love and love's deep ecstasy; Amaranths, that nor fade nor fail. That our loves immortal be ! Epode. Grant that these thy votaries prove All the joys, not pangs of love ! With amaranth and myrtle now Thus we crown them on the brow ; Bring glad Hymen in thy train. Fold here thy wings, fly not again ! CHISWICK PRESS ; — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOUS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. The Bodley Head, Vigo Street, London, W., October, 1890. MR. ELKIN MATHEWS'S NEW AND FORTHCOMING BOOKS. f OEtical JJ^org^. Imperial i6mo, boards, price ^s. net. A Sicilian Idyll : a Pastoral Play. By JOHN TODHUNTER. With a Frontispiece by Walter Crane. Printed on handmade paper at the Chiswick Press, in an edition of 2^0 copies, at ^s. net, and 50 copies large paper, numbered and signed, at \os. 6d. net. *,* The L. P. copies are nearly all sold. Foolscap SiJO, buckram, price 6s. net. Corn and Poppies. By COSMO MONKHOUSE. Finely printed by R. and R. Clark, of Edinburgh, on handmade paper, in an edition of 350 copies fcap, %vo, at (>s. net, and 50 numbered and signed copies, with proofs of an etching by William Strang as Frontispiece, crown 4to, large paper, at 1 5^. net. *,,* The L. P. copies are all sold Mr. Elkin MatJtews's New Books. Imperial i6mo, boards, price 5^. net. Chambers Twain. By ERNEST RADFORD. With a Frontispiece by Walter Crane. Printed on handmade paper at the Chiswick Press, in an edition of 2f,o copies, imperial i6mo, at ^s. net, and ^o copies numbered and signed, crown if o, large paper, at loj. dd. net. *»* The L. P. copies are nearly all sold. Royal i6mo, wrapper, price "Js. 6d. net. Ailes d'Alouette. By FRANCIS W. BOURDILLON, M.A. Ctioicely printed in FelTs type, on Alton Mills handmade paper, by the Rev. C. H. Daniel, at his Private Press ; limited to 100 copies ; very few remain. Crown 4/0, wrapper, price "js. 6d. net. The Backslider, and other Poems. By ANT.EUS [i-^. W. J. Ibbett]. Finely printed on handmade paper at the Chiswick Press; limited to ^o copies, of which very fern remain. Crown 4to, half vellum. The Growth of Love. By ROBERT BRIDGES. Choicely printed in Fell's Old English type on Whatman's handmade paper, by Mr. Daniel, at his Private Press ; limited to lOO copies. Poetical Works. Crown sfo, half vellum. The Feast of Bacchus. By ROBERT BRIDGES. Printed in Fell's Roman type (uniform with foregoing) ; limited to lOO copies. l6mo, vegetable parchment, price 6s. Galeazzo : a Venetian Episode ; with other Poems. By PERCY E. PINKERTON. With an etched Frontispiece. *,* Only a few remain on sale. Will shortly be published in booklet form, in two editions, price 6d. and is, net. Poor People's Christmas. By the HON. RODEN NOEL. A/so, during 1891, POEMS by the following writers : WALTER CRANE, F. W. BOURDILLON, M.A., The late PHILIP B. MARSTON, PERCY PINKERTON, Etc. London: ELKIN MATHEWS, Vigo Street, W. Mr. Elkin Mathews's Publications. (general lEiterature, Post 8vo, cloth, price "Js. dd. With an illustration of the Novelist's Chalet, from a pen and ink sketch by his son, Mr. W. M. Meredith, and a Portrait. George Meredith : Some Characteristics. By RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. With a Bibliography by JOHN Lane, and a Note by W. Morton FuLLKRTON On the reception of George Meredith's works in America. *»• The L. P. edition limited to 75 copies. Crown ifo, boards, price lOJ. dd. net. Three Essays : by John Keats. Now first published in book form, edited with Note by H. Bdxton FoRMAN ; finely printed on handmade paper at the Chiswick Press ; limited to 50 copies, only a few left. With a life-mask, taken by Haydon, as Frontispiece. Second Edition now Ready. Post 8vo, brown buckram, price "Js. 6d, Robert Browning : Essays and Thoughts. By JOHN T. NETTLESHIP. The volume includes the "Essays on Robert Browning's Poetry," published in 1868, which did so much to popularise Mr. Browning's General Literature. work. The present edition is more than doubled in size, containing additional essays, dealing with poems which have appeared since the publication of the first volume. 75 copies on Whatman large paper ; a few remain, " When an individual work is dealt with, nothing can be more searching and elaborate than Mr. Nettleship's analysis, and to that analysis those works which have done most to justify the common charge of obscurity have been forced to yield up their meaning. A high and penetrating intelligence was needed for such a task ; and something more than intelligence was needed to make us realise, as Mr. Nettle- ship has done, the true depth and breadth of the philosophy which underlies the vast and varied body of Browning's poetical work. It is not often that so solid and genuine a piece of thinking is produced in literary criticism. " — Academy. Post 8vo, cloth, price 2s. Dante : Six Sermons. By the rev. PHILIP H. WICKSTEED, M.A., Author of " The Alphabet of Economic Science," etc. These brilliant Lectures form an excellent introduction to the Study of Dante. The original edition, published at 6s. in 1879, has long been out of print and difficult to meet with. MOJIE ESSA YS ON DANTE. Thick Svo, buckram, price I2s., with Portrait and Plates. Literature and Poetry. By PHILIP SCHAFF, D.D. (St. Andrews). Dr. Schaff 's Volume consists of Ten Critical Essays upon some of the great Literary Epochs in the World's History. The Articles upon Dante and Dante Literature, English and Foreign, are deeply interesting Mr. Elkifi Mathews's New Books. and valuable. The Titles are : " The English Language," " The Poetry of the Bible," "The Dies Irae," "The Stabat Mater Dolorosa," " The Stabat Mater Speciosa," " St. Bernard as a Hymnist," " The University, Past, Present and Future," "Dante Alighieri," "Poetic Tributes to Dante," and " The Divina Commedia." Post Svo, buckram, price 6j. The Poetry of Tennyson. By the rev. henry VAN DYKE, D.D. Contents :— Tennyson's First Flight ; The Palace of Art ; Milton and Tennyson ; Two Splendid Failures ; The Idylls of the King ; The Homeric Trilogy, and, The Bible in Tennyson ; Chronological Bibliography of his Works, etc. Published quarterly, in two editions. The Pioneer : A Journal of Literature, Social Progress, Economics, and Ethics. Edited by G. DYKE SMITH. Two shillings net yearly subscription for ordinary edition. Four shillings net ditto for special edition on handmade paper. Postage extra. Now ready, small %vo, price Twopence. Handbook of " The Reading Guild." General Literature. Foolscap %vo, cloth, price ^s. Letters to Living Artists. By PASQUIN JUNIOR. [/« preparation. Royal iSmo, buckram, price y. 6d. The Student and the Body-Snatcher, and other Trifles. By ROBINSON K. XEATHER, M.A., and RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. [Immediatelj'. Svo, wrapper, price y. fid. Alma Murray, Portrait as Beatrice Cenci. With critical Notice containing Four Letters from Robert Browning. \_Immediately. 8vo, wrapper, price 2s. 6d. Robert Browning and the Drama. A Note by W. Fairfax. [Immediately. Mr. Elkin Mathews's New Books. Will be published shortly, medium %ivo, finely printed on handmade paper, in a limited edition, with Etchings. The Story of S. William : The Boy Martyr of Norwich. From forty contemporary and subsequent Chronicles, all of which are given in full, with copious Notes and Translations, etc., etc. By the rev. FREDERICK WILLIAM ROLFE, Late Professor of English Literature and History at S. Marie^s College of Oscott. Will be issued shortly, demy Svo, price 5 J. net, in an edition of 1^0 copies. Tristan and Isolde. English words to Richard Wagner's " Tristan und Isolde," in the mixed alliterative and rhyming verse of the original. By ALFRED FORMAN, Translator of " Der Ring des Nibelungen." Will be issued shortly , quaintly printed on handmade paper at the Chiswick Press. On the Making and Issuing of Books A Brochure addressed to Authors and others. By C. T. JACOBI, Manager of the Chiswick Press. ELKIN MATHEWS, AT THE Sign of the Bodley Head, Vigo Street, W. vt(- a J. Cornell University Library PR 5671.T245S5 A^SicJIian idyll; a pastoral play in two IllJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIilllllllllllllllllllllll '■3 564 343