(Qontell ItttuerHitg Hihrarg 3tt;aca, New *?nrk BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library PR4525.D5F51 1893 Fleet Street eclogues. 3 1924 013 469 345 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013469345 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES FLEET STREET ECLOGUES By JOHN DAVIDSON ELKIN MATHEWS & JOHN LANE VIGO STREET, LONDON MDCCCXCIII JV. S"o\£ 5 1 First Edition, . . . April 1893 Second Edition, . . . July 1893 CONTENTS \ New Year's Day, PAGE I St Valentine's Eve, . is Good-Fbiday, . . 29 St Swithin's Day, • 41 Michaelmas, . • 53 Queen Elizabeth's Day, • 7i Christmas Eye, . 89 NEW YEAR'S DAY NEW YEAR'S DAY Beian This trade that we ply with the pen, Unworthy of heroes or men, Assorts ever less with my humour : Mere tongues in the raiment of rumour, "We review and report and invent : In drivel our virtue is spent. Basil From the muted tread of the feet, And the slackening wheels, I know FLEET STREET ECLOGUES The air is hung with snow, And carpeted the street. Bkian Ambition, and passion, and power Come out of the north and the west, Every year, every day, every hour, Into Fleet Street to fashion their best : They would shape what is noble and wise ; They must live by a traffic in lies. Basil Sweet rivers of living blood Poured into an ocean of mud. Brian Newspapers flap o'er the land, And darken the face of the sky ; A covey of dragons, wide-vanned, Circle- wise clanging, they fly. NEW YEAR'S DAY No nightingale sings ; overhead The lark never mounts to the sun ; Beauty and truth are dead, And the end of the world begun. Basil Far away in a valley of peace, Swaddled in emerald, The snow-happed primroses Tarry till spring has called. Sandy And here where the Fleet once tripped In its ditch to the drumlie Thames, We journalists, haughty though hipped, Are calling our calling names. Brian But you know, as I know, that our craft Is the meanest in act and intention ; You know that the Time-spirit laughed FLEET STREET ECLOGUES In his sleeve at the Dutchman's invention : Old Coster of Haarlem, I mean, Whose print was the first ever seen. Basil I can hear in that valley of mine, Loud-voiced on a leafless spray, How the robin sings, flushed with his holly wine, Of the moonlight blossoms of May. Bbian These dragons that hide the sun ! The serpents, flying and fiery, That knotted a nation in one Writhen mass ; the scaley and wirey, And flame-breathing terror the saint Still manfully slays on our coins; The reptile hedge-artists paint On creaking tavern-signs ; Gargouille, famous in France NEW YEAR'S DAY That entered Rouen to his sorrow ; The dragon, Fetrarca's lance Overthrew in defence of his Laura ; The sea-beast Perseus killed ; Proserpine's triple team ; Tarasque whose blood was spilled In Rhone's empurpled stream ; For far-flying strength and ire And venom might never withstand The least of the flourishing quire In Fleet Street stalled and the Strand. Basil Through the opening gate of the year Sunbeams and snowdrops peer. Brian Fed by us here and groomed In this pestilent reeking stye, These dragons I say have doomed Religion and poetry. FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Sandy They may doom till the moon forsakes Her dark, star-daisied lawn ; They may doom till doomsday breaks With angels to trumpet the dawn ; While love enchants the young, And the old have sorrow and care, No song shall be unsung, TJnprayed no prayer. Bkian Leaving the dragons alone — I say what the prophet says — The tyrant on the throne Is the morning and evening press. In all the land his spies, A little folk but strong, A second plague of flies, Buzz of the right and the wrong; Swarm in our ears and our < NEW YEAR'S DAY News and scandal and lies. Men stand upon the brink Of a precipice every day ; A drop of printer's ink Their poise may overweigh ; So they think what the papers think, And do as the papers say. Who reads the daily press, His soul's lost here and now ; Who writes for it is less Than the beast that tngs a plough. Basil Bound happy household fires I hear sweet voices sing ; And the lamb's-wool of our sires, Spiced ale, is a draught for a king. Sandy Now, journalist, perpend. 10 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES You soil your bread and butter : Shall guttersnipes pretend To satirise the gutter 1 Are parsons ever seen To butt against the steeple t • Brian, I fear you've been • With very superior people. We, the valour and brains of the age, The brilliant, adventurous souls, No longer in berserkir rage — Brian Spare us the berserkir rage ! Sandy Not I ; the phrase outrolls As freshly to me this hour, As when on my boyish sense It struck like a trumpet-blare. You may cringe and cower To critical pretence ; NEW YEAR'S DAY II If people will go bare They may count on bloody backs ; Cold are the hearts that care If a girl be blue-eyed or black-eyed ; Only to souls of hacks Are phrases hackneyed. — When the damsel had her bower, And the lady kept her state, The splendour and the power That made adventure great, Were not more strong and splendid Than the subtle might we wield j Though chivalry be ended, There are champions in the field. Nor are we warriors giftless : Deep magic's in our stroke ; Ours are the shoes of swiftness : And ours the darkling cloak ; We fear no golden charmer ; We dread no form of words ; FLEET STREET ECLOGUES We wear enchanted armour, We wield enchanted swords. To us the hour belongs ; Our daily victory is O'er hydras, giant wrongs, And dwarf iniquities. We also may behold, Before our boys are old, When time shall have unfurled His heavy-hanging mists, How the future of the world Was shaped by journalists. Basil Sing hey for the journalist ! He is your true soldado ; Both time and chance he'll lead a dance, And find out Eldorado. Brian Sing hey for Eldorado ! NEW YEAR'S DAY 13 Basil A catch, a catch, •we'll trowl ! Brian Sing hey for Eldorado ! Sandy And bring a mazer-bowl, With ale a-frothing brimmed. Brian We may not rest without it. Sandy With "dainty ribbons trimmed, And love-birds carved about it. Basil With roasted apples scented, And spiced with cloves and mace. Brian Praise him who ale invented ! 14 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Sandy In heaven he has a place ! Basil Such a camarado Heaven's hostel never missed ! Brian Sing hey for Eldorado ! Sandy Sing ho for the journalist ! Basil We drink them and we sing them In mighty humming ale. Brian May fate together bring them ! Sandy Amen ! Basil Wass hael ! Brian Drinc hael ! ST VALENTINE'S EVE ST VALENTINE'S EVE Percy A-moping always, journalist ? Eor shame ! Though this be Lent no journalist need mope : The blazing Candlemas was foul and wet ; We shall be happy yet : Sweethearts and crocuses together ope. Mbnzies Assail, console me not in jest or trope : Give me your golden silence ; or if speech Must wake a ripple on the stagnant gloom Of this lamp-darkened room, Speak blasphemy, and let the mandrake screech. B 18 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Percy Dread words — 'tis Ercles' vein — and fit to teach The mandrake's self new ecstasies of woe, Have passed my lips in blame of God and man. Now surely nothing can Constrain my soul serene to riot so. Menzies But you are old ; the tide of life is low ; No wind can raise a tempest in a cup : Easy it is for withered nerves and veins, Parched hearts and barren brains To be serene and give life's question up. Percy Although no longer chamber-doors I dup For wilb'ng maids (that never conquered me) ; Though unimpassioned be my tranquil mind, And all my force declined, Sr VALENTINES EVE 19 My quenchless soul confronts its destiny. — But tell me now what ghastly misery Peeps from the shadowy cupboard of your eye 1 This chastened month in white and gold is dressed, Lilies and snowdrops blessed : Be shriven by me as you were now to die ; Shrove-tide is come. Menzies Confessions purify. My skeletons I will uncupboard straight ; And if you think me pitiful and weak, I pray you do not speak, But go and leave me lonely with my fate. — My daily toil has irked me much of late : Of books that never will be read I write What, save the anxious authors, no one reads, And chronicle the deeds i FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Of Fashion, Crime, and Council, day and night. Once in a quarter when my heart is light I write a poem in a weekly sheet, To lie in clubs on tables crowned with baize, Immortal for seven days : This is the life my echoing years repeat. Peecy The very round my aged steps still beat ! Menzies And brooding thus on my ephemeral flowers That smoulder in the wilderness, I thought, By envy sore distraught, Of amaranths that burn in lordly bowers, Of men divinely blessed with leisured hours, And all the savage in my blood was roused. I cursed the father who begot me poor, The patient womb that bore ST VALENTINES EVE 21 Me, last of ten, ill-fed, ill-clad, ill-housed ; I cursed the barren common where I browsed And sickened on the arid mental fare The state has sown broad-cast ; I cursed the strain Whence sprang my blood and brain Frugal and dry ; I cursed myself the heir Of dreadful things that met me everywhere : Of uncouth nauseous vennels, smoky skies ; A chill and watery clime ; a thrifty race, Using all means of grace To save their souls and purses ; lingering lies, Remnants of creeds and tags of party cries — Scarecrows and rattles ; then I cursed this flesh, "Which must be daily served with meat and drink, Which will not let me think, But holds me prisoner in the sexual mesh ; I cursed all being, and began afresh — i FLEET STREET ECLOGUES My education and my geniture, Which keep me running always from the goal, Or stranded on Time's shoal — In naked speech, a sixpenny reviewer, A hungry parasite of literature. Percy No reasoning can meet so fierce a mood. I'll tell you of a journalist instead, These many winters dead, Who out of evil could distil the good. He found his lot untameable and rude, And sometimes ate what beggars had disdained Left at the donor's door. Once on a time A wanton youthful rhyme I read him with my tears and heart's blood stained, Wherein of Fate I bitterly complained. He praised my rhymes ; then said, ' The Poet's name ST VALENTINE'S EVE 23 Is overhallowed ; and the Statesman's praise Unearned ; unearned the bays That crown the Warrior ; Beauty, Art, I blame, For Love alone deserves the meed of fame.' Menzies I understand you not. Percy Be still and mark. 'And so,' he said, ' though I am faint and old, High in my garret cold — While on the pane Death's knuckles rattle stark, And hungry pangs keep sleep off — in the dark, * I think how brides and bridegrooms, many a pair, With human sanction, or all unavouched, Together softly couched, Wonder and throb in rapture ; how the care Of ways and means, the thought of whitening hair, \. FLEET STREET ECLOGUES ' Of trenchant wrinkles fade, when night has set, And many a long-wed man and woman find The deepest peace of mind, Sweet and mysterious to each other yet. I think that I am still in Nature's debt, ' Scorned, disappointed, starving, bankrupt, old, Because I loved a lady in my youth, And was beloved in sooth. I think that all the horrors ever told Of tonsured men and women sable-stoled, ' Of long-drawn tortures wrought with subtle zest, Of war and massacre and martyrdom, Of slaves in Pagan Rome — In Christian England, who begin to test The purpose of their state, to strike for rest ' And time to feel alive in : all the blight Of pain, age, madness, ravished innocence, Despair and impotence, ST VALENTINE'S EVE 25 The lofty anguish that affronts the light, And seems to fill the past with utter night, ' Is but Love's needful shadow : though the poles, The spangled zodiac, and the stars that beat In heaven's high Watling Street Their myriad rounds ; though every orb that rolls Lighting or lit, were filled with tortured souls, ' If one man and one woman, heart and brain Entranced above all fear, above all doubt, Might wring their essence out, The groaning of a universe in pain Were as an undersong in Love's refrain. ' Then in a vision holy Time I see As one sweet bridal night, Earth softly spread One fragrant bridal bed, And all my unrest leaves me utterly : I sometimes feel almost that God may be.' a6 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Menzies You touch me not. . I, stretched upon the rack Of consciousness, still curse. Woman and love \ I would be throned above Humanity. Yet were I God, alack ! I think that I should want my manhood back, Hating and loving limits — Percy Ah ! I know How ill you are. You shall to-morrow do What I now order you. At early dawn through London you must go Until you come where long black hedgerows grow, With pink buds pearled, with here and there a tree, And gates and stiles ; and watch good country folk; And scent the spicy smoke Of withered weeds that burn where gardens be ; And in a ditch perhaps a primrose see. ST VALENTINE'S EVE 27 The rooks shall stalk the plough, larks mount the skies, Blackbirds and speckled thrushes sing aloud, Hid in the warm white cloud Mantling the thorn, and far away shall rise The milky low of cows and farmyard cries. From windy heavens the climbing sun shall shine, And February greet you like a maid In russet-cloak arrayed ; And you shall take her for your mistress fine, And pluck a crocus for her valentine. Menzies In russet-cloak arrayed with homespun smock And apple cheeks. Percy I pray you do not mock. Menzies I mock not, I shall see earth and be glad : London's a darksome cell where men go mad. GOOD-FRIDAY GOOD-FRIDAY basil sandy bbian menzie Sandy Pffp ! journalists ; the -wind blows snell ! Brian To-day we freeze, to-morrow fry. Basil And yesterday the black rain fell In sheets from London's smoky sky, Like water through a dirty sieve. Menzies March many-weathers, as they say, 32 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES In country nooks where proverbs live, And folk distinguish night from day. Sandy Well, we shall make a day of night : Behold with gules and or a fire Emblazoned, and a mellow light ; And things that journalists require. So let us open out our lore, And chat as snugly as the dead ; And damned be those who came before, And all our brilliant sayings said. Brian I love not brilliance ; give me words Of meadow-growth and garden plot, Of larks and blackcaps ; gaudy birds, Oay flowers and jewels like me not. GOOD-FRIDA Y S3 Basil The age-end journalist it seems Can change his spots and turn his dress, For you are he whose copy teems With paradox and preciousness. Bkian Last night I watched the evening star Outshine the moon it so excelled ; And since my thought has been afar With deep and simple things of eld. I heard in Fleet Street all the day, While traffic rolled and bells were rung, The sombre, wailing Tenebrae, The Sistine Miserere sung. I saw great people make their Maunds ; The prelate leave his lofty seat ; A kaiser break imperial bonds To serve the poor and wash their feet. 34 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES I saw where countless hearts besought Pardon, for heaven's sweet peace athirst ; And through my soul the tender thought Of Mary, Virgin-mother, pierced. I saw a city kneeling down, I saw the gonfanon unfurled, I saw the Pope in triple crown Stand up for God and bless the world. Templars I saw, and monks and nuns, I saw frail priests strong kings command ; I thought how great the world was once When Heaven and Hell were close at hand. The gloaming came ; I ceased to ache, For in my veins the springtime welled, And soothed my fancy to forsake The deep and simple things of eld, And fly away where blackbirds sing, To wander free in dale and down. GOOD-FRIDAY 35 Basil I would that I could see the spring ! Sandy Has any one been out of town 1 Menzies I have for weeks. Basil For weeks ? By heaven ! What deeds heroic have you wrought That such a foretaste should be given Of Paradise ? Menzies I earned it not. 'Twas accident : nor did I know Till now, that when they come to die Good press-men to the country go. 36 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Brian I think it's true. Sandy And so do I. Heaven is to tread unpaven ground, And care no more for prose or rhyme. Dear Menzies, talk of sight and sound, And make us feel the blossom-time. Menzies Then let my fancy dive and hale Pearls from my wandering memory, Unstrung, unsorted, else I fail To see the spring and make you see. Already round the oak at eve Good people prate of gain and loss ; With folded hands some sit and grieve — New mounds the green churchyard emboss. GOOD-FRIDAY 37 The osier-peelers — ragged bands — In osier-holts their business ply; Like strokes of silver willow-wands On river banks a-bleaching lie. The patchwork sunshine nets the lea ; The flitting shadows halt and pass ; Forlorn, the mossy humble-bee Lounges along the flowerless grass. With unseen smoke as pure as dew, Sweeter than love or lovers are, Wood-violets of watchet hue Their secret hearths betray afar. The vanguards of the daisies come, Summer's crusaders sanguine-stained, The only flowers that left their home When happiness in Eden reigned. 38 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES They strayed abroad, old writers tell, Hardy and bold, east, west, south, north : Our guilty parents, when they fell, And flaming vengeance drove them forth, Their haggard eyes in vain to God, To all the stars of heaven turned ; But when they saw where in the sod, The golden-hearted daisies burned, Sweet thoughts that still within them dwelt Awoke, and tears embalmed their smart ; On Eden's daisies couched they felt They carried Eden in their heart. Basil Oh, little flower so sweet and dear ! Sandy Oh, humanest of flowers that grow ! GOOD-FRIDAY 39 Brian Oh, little brave adventurer ! We human beings love you so ! Menzies We human beings love it so ! And when a maiden's dainty shoe Can cover nine, the gossips know The fulness of the Spring is due. Brian The gallant flower ! Sandy Its health ! Come, drink ! Menzies Its health ! By heaven, in Highland style 1 Basil The daisy's health ! And now, well think Of Eden silently a while. ST SWITHIN'S DAY ST SWITHIN'S DAY MENZIES Basil We four — since Easter-time we have not met. Brian And now the Dog Days bake us in our rooms Like heretics in Dis's lidded tombs. Sandy Oh, for a little wind, a little wet ! Brian A little wet, but not from heaven, I pray ! Have you forgotten 'tis St Swithin's Day 1 44 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil Oast books aside, strew paper, drop the pen ! Bring ice, bring lemons, bring St Julien ! Sandy Bring garlands ! Brian With the laurel, lest it fade, Let Bacchus twist vine-leaf and cabbage-blade ! Basil I would I lay beside a brook at monl, And watched the shepherd's-clock declare the hours ; And heard the husky whisper of the corn, Legions of bees in leagues of summer flowers. Brian Who has been out of London \ Basil Once, in June ST SWI THINS DA Y 45 Upstream I went to hear the summer tune The birds sing at Long Ditton in a vale Sacred to him who wrote his own heart's tale. Of singing birds that hollow is the haunt ; Never was such a place for singing in ! The valley overflows with song and chaunt, And brimming echoes spill the pleasant din. High in the oak-trees where the fresh leaves sprout, The blackbirds with their oboe voices make The sweetest broken music all about The beauty of the day for beauty's sake, The wanton shadow and the languid cloud, The grass-green velvet where the daisies crowd ; And all about the air that softly comes Thridding the hedgerows with its noiseless feet, The purling waves with muffled elfin drums, That step along their pebble-paven street ; And all about the mates whose love they won, And all about the sunlight and the sun. The thrushes into song more bravely launch 46 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Than thrushes do in any other dell ; Warblers and -willow-wrens on every branch, Each hidden by a leaf, their rapture tell ; Green-finches in the elms sweet nothings say, Busy with love from dawn to dusk are they. A passionate nightingale adown the lane Shakes with the force and volume of Ms song A hawthorn's heaving foliage ; such a strain, Self-caged like him to make his singing strong, Some poet may have made in days of yore, TJntold, unwritten, lost for evermore. Sandy Your holiday was of a rarer mood, A dedication loftier than mine ; But yet I swear my holiday was good : I went to Glasgow just for auld lang syne. In Saucbiehall Street in the afternoon I saw a lady walking all in black, But on her head a hat shaped like the moon, ST SW/Tff/N'S DA Y 47 Crescent and -white and clouded with a veil. I could not see if she -were fair or pale Because her beauty hid her like a mist : But well I knew her bosom from her back ; And all her delicacy well I wist : And every boy and man that saw her pass Adored the beauty of that Scottish lass. I said within : ' Three things are worthiest knowing, And when I know them nothing else I know. I know unboundedly, what needs no showing, That women are most beautiful ; and then I know I love them ; and I know again Herein alone true Science lies, for, lo ! Old Rome's a ruin ; Caesar is a name ; The Church 1 — alas ! a lifeboat, warped and sunk ; God, a disputed title : but the fame Of those who sang of love, fresher than spring, Blossoms for ever with the tree of life, Whose boughs are generations ; and its trunk Love ; and its flowers, lovers. 48 ' FLEET STREE1 ECLOGUES Brian Love we sing, Towards Love we strive ; no other song or strife We know, or heed. — You, Menzies, what say you? Dark, in your corner — with a volume too ! Menzies Now that I hang above the loathsome hell Of smouldering spite and foul disparagement, Even as a Christian, singed and basted well By Christians, hung in dreadful discontent Chained to a beam, and dangling in the fire ; And like an ocean-searching sailor-wight Whose lonely eyes and clinging fingers tire ; And like a desperate, pallid acolyte Of giddy Fortune, who with straining clutch Swings in her wheel's wind from its lower rim, Doubting of all things, disbelieving much, I come to him who sang the heavenly hymn. ST SW/THIN'S DA Y 49 Brian To Colin Clout ! But whence this desperate thought ? Menzies Two months ago I published — Brian (Out ! Alack !) Menzies A book that held the essence of my life : Wrong praise and wrong abuse was all I got. Basil We all have suffered from the critic's knife. Sandy And helpless lain on many a weekly rack. Menzies But I am weak. 50 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil No, Menzies ; you are strong. Already you have cast aside the wrong, And solace found in Spenser's noble song. "When I was in like case it took a year Before my wounds were whole, my vision clear. Menzies What brought you to yourself 1 Basil I prayed. Menzies Indeed ! Brian To whom 1 Basil I know not ; 'tis the mood I need- Submissive aspiration. ST SWITHIN'S DAY 51 Mbnzies Pray with us : Here from the city's centre make appeal. Bbian Where hawkers cry, where roar the cab and 'bus. Basil So be it. On your knees, then : Sandy, kneel. — Sweet powers of righteousness protect us now ! Your adversary, Pate, has driven us down From that green-crowned , sun-fronting mountain-brow, Where peace and aspiration (ebb and flow Of thought that strives to whelm the infinite ; And, as the sun for ever fails to drown More than a little hollow of the night, Pierces a rush-light's ray's length into it) Swung our ecstatic spirits to and fro Between the Heaven and Hades of delight, Down to that bedlam of the universe, 52 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES That sepulchre of souls for ever yawning, That jug of asps — God's enemy, Time's hearse, The world, that blister raised by every dawning. Help, ere it drive us mad, this devil's din ! The clash of iron, and the clink of gold ; The quack's, the beggar's whining manifold ; The harlot's whisper, tempting men to sin ; The voice of priests who damn each other's missions ; The babel-tongues of foolish politicians, "Who shout around a swaying Government ; The groans of beasts of burden, mostly men, Who toil to please a thankless upper ten ; The knowledge-monger's cry, ' A brand-new fact ! ' The dog's hushed howl from whom the fact was rent ; The still-voice ' Culture ' ; and the slogan ' Act ! ' Save us from madness ; keep us night and day, Sweet powers of righteousness to whom we pray. MICHAELMAS MICHAELMAS BASIL HERBERT BRIAN SANDY MENZIRS Herbert The farmer roasts his stubble goose. Menzies The pard and tiger moths are loose. Sandy The broom-pods crackle in the sun ; And since the flowers are nearly done, From thymy slopes and heather hills, The wearied bee his pocket fills 56 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Brian The wearied bee ! Herbert On ancient walls The moss turns greener. Sandy Hark! St Paul's Booms midnight. Brian Basil is asleep. Sandy Boom, iron tongue ! boom, slow and deep ! Menzies The berries on the hawthorn tree Are red as blood. Brian The wearied bee ! MICHAELMAS 57 Herbert In Devon cider-presses flow, And lads and lasses nutting go. Basil Twelve notes the bell-voiced midnight pealed ; The moon stood still ; the wan stars reeled. Brian Lord ! Basil, are you off your head % Basil The opening knell had wakened me ; The twelfth rang out a lullaby. Brian What passion's this ? whose mare is dead % Sandy Fie, Brian ! Let him say his say. Begin again and fire away. 58 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil I started from uneasy slumber, And heard night's stately tongue o'er-number Twelve measured beats. While rang the last I slept again ; but ere it passed In still-attenuating sound I wakened from that sudden swound. A dream begotten by the bell, Was born within its lingering knell. The deep prolonged reverberation Seized on me like a jubilation, And from my fleshly jail-garment, And from the world's imprisonment, And out of penitential Time Bore me into a ransomed clime. The air was balmier than the west That bends the barley's nodding crest, When happy folk the greenwood seek, And summer roasts the apple's cheek. A darkness of another dye MICHAELMAS 59 Than earthly night o'erspread the sky If any heaven were heaved on high : The only light that guided me My soul's enkindled radiancy. The splendour that my spirit threw Revealed new green, new golden dew, Wherein I saw new flowers encamp : They glimmered in my silvery lamp Like gems in an illumined grot : I glided on ; my light waned not ; Fresh wonders peered forth as I passed ; Without me brooded darkness vast. Among the branches of the trees That trembled to the fiDgering breeze, And far more softly sang and sighed Than soft .ZEolian harps, I spied Looks brighter than the liquid gold That streams before the peal has rolled. Notes sweeter than the nightingale's, More piercing than the lowly rail's, 60 FLEET STREET ECL OGUES And wealthier than the gorgeous chime The mocking-bird at coupling time Re-rings again and o'er and o'er In changes richer than before, With ruffling throat and spiral motion — The vortex of a whirling ocean, Whose floods are seething music waves Outwelling from his heart's glad caves — Surged and re-surged about my sense, That revelled in their vehemence. A blackness then waylaid my soul, Intense, unfrayed, a perfect whole : My beams could not irradiate This ebon front, this cloudy gate. Far up I saw a shimmer dim, Like that above a night-cloud's rim, Left trailing by the long-sunk sun, When half the summer-time is done : It coped the high-reared dense black blind : MICHAELMAS 61 I wondered what might be behind ; But when I pressed no step might be, And yet between the wall and me, The strange sward flower-strewn I could see. Soon sang a voice ; and, strange to tell, It was my own voice singing well A new song that I cannot mind : Vanished at once the dense black blind ; Far, wide, a rainbow heaven of light Olouded a while my silly sight. I saw a sty of purple gloom, That glowed as from a Tyrian loom, And blushing hills perfumed with heath, And flower-decked valleys hung beneath, Where water purled a signal noise, Melodious, like an angel's voice. And there were forests great and old, The carpet of whose fertile mould 62 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Was woven of ferns and lustrous flowers ; And caves were there and pleasant bowers • And rocks, immortally undressed, That shone through many a loose green vest. And in the sky, and on the hills, And through the woods, and by the rills, A host of lights of every hue, And every shape lit up the view. Some shone with blood-streaked glow of green Like jasper ; the carnation sheen Of sardonyx beamed bright and pale ; And like a maiden's finger-nail The hue of chalcedony gleamed ; And some pale blue like jacinth seemed ; And there were flames like crysolites, And rubies — gems that love delights Beside the well-loved lips to shame ; And there was many an emerald flame ; And topazes and sapphires came, And smouldering amethystine hues, MICHAELMAS 63 Like purple grapes where lights infuse A glow of garden violets, Or women's eyes love's sweet dew wets. The flaming shapes for ever changed As fixed they hung or widely ranged. Like meteors some wide heaven spanned ; Like wisps some shot about the land ; And others moved their scrolls and curls, Like waving skirts where lovely girls Evolve from mazy minstrelsy A moving silk-draped melody, Dancing at the bridal-feast Of some grand monarch of the east. Transcending in magnificence, In beauty, and in eloquence Of movement, and in variance Of shapely forms, and in the dance The loftiest height with poise of state Maintaining easily, elate 64 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Above the others sailing far, Now beaming like an opal star, Now like the rainbow's shifting bridge Wheeling from mountain ridge to ridge, And now expanding like the dawn, Now like the northern lights, there shone A glorious flame ; and one bright form, As grand in motion as a storm, Exceeded symmetry. I knew What these two were ; but memory grew A jumbled chaos when I hoped To seize their names. While yet I groped Within the darkened lumber-room Of memory, a sound did loom Upon my hearing, which till then Had been a hollow empty den, Its sense being stolen into my sight To give it power to grasp the light. Eftsoons the looming sound, evolved Whence I perceived not then, resolved MICHAELMAS 65 Its misty volume into dew, That rose and fell and rose anew, And showering gently seemed to bear Odours from Cytherea's hair, Or from the thousand flowers that please The vigilant Hesperides Within their bower on Atlas' top, Whose shoulders huge the heavens prop, So dulcet was the harmony. It rained into my memory, And, freshening that fallow mead, Awakened many a sleeping seed That sprang and blossomed into flower, A bell for every happy hour. But yet my wakening intuition That longed to execute its mission, To call those two supremest flames, Bloomed not in flower of their names. Oh me ! that airy melody ! 66 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Its memory distresses me, Like old men's thoughts of love's first kiss, Like damned imaginings of bliss. No thrilling movement with me stays ; The shadow of one subtle phrase Cools not the burning of desire ; Tears cannot quench that ardent fire ; So sweet and low the voices sung, So deep and high the singing swung, Or, like the bird of heaven, hung In joyous swoon, on brooding wing Intensely, stilly, hovering. Then far away across the vale A sapphire sea with ripples pale I saw : the golden, further shore A group of wan lights wandered o'er Hueless and shadowy : and I thought That those the airy music wrought. Sudden a great globe brimmed my sight, MICHAELMAS 67 And all my senses took their flight To it to make it capable ; I was one eye and it was full, But can a brazier hold the sun, Or any cup the ocean 1 ? Menzibs Basil None. This splendour, now in mist diffused, Hung like a cloud of diamond-dust ; Contracted to a point anon, It still so luminously shone Its dense light could be seen alone. I was one eye, one questioning gaze : At once the scintillating haze, In answer to my inquisition Appeared as two ; and each division 68 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES A shadowy human outline carried, Less bright divided than when married* Then straight the black gulf hung between My aching sight and heaven's scene. Brian But this is nonsense triple-piled. Herbert Is nonsense then to be reviled 1 Menzies Not so ; for fancy where it lists Breathes like the wind : he who resists His wanton moods for ever, ends In being moodless. Basil Good, my friends, Forgive, forget. The dream was long, Too long. — Let some one sing a song. MICHAELMAS 69 Menzies Your bass is rusty, Herbert ; come. Herbert I'll sing a song of Harvest-home. SONG The frost will bite us soon ; His tooth is on the leaves : Beneath the golden moon We bear the golden sheaves : We care not for the winter's spite, We keep our Harvest-home to-night. Hurrah for the English yeoman ! Fill full, fill the cup ! Hurrah ! he yields to no man ! Drink deep ; drink it up ! The pleasure of a king, Is tasteless to the mirth 70 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Of peasants when they bring The harvest of the earth. With pipe and tabor hither roam All ye who love our Harvest-home. Hurrah for the English yeoman ! Fill full ; fill the cup ! Hurrah ! he yields to no man ! Drink deep ; drink it up ! The thresher with his flail, The shepherd with his crook, The milkmaid with her pail, The reaper with his hook — To-night the dullest blooded clods Are kings and queens, are demigods. Hurrah for the English yeoman ! Fill full ; fill the cup ! Hurrah ! he yields to no man ! Drink deep ; drink it up! QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DAY QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DAY basil sandy menzies Basil A noble fog ! Though I Were comfortably dead, Shrouded and buried deep In my last bed, Tucked in for my long sleep, Where generations lie, I scarce were more at ease Than now I feel beneath This heavy-laden silent atmosphere. Menzies A kraken of the skies ! Its teeth 74 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Are closing in my throat ; A lithe arm rummages Each aching lung. Sandy We dote On your disaster, Menzies. Here, Like people of Pompeii. Or like Saharan denizens, Sitting for centuries O'erwhelmed with sand or lava, we Are quite at home in fogs like these. Basil And feel as if our tongues and pens Had wagged and scrawled since Arthur's time. And we had seen the best and worst Of England's youth and England's prime j As if this day might be the first Day of Elizabeth — QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DA Y 75 Or any day : the dead, like God, Breathing eternal breath, Can be in any period. Menzies Alas, I cannot but remember That this is London in November ! Basil Be out of London ; off! Command your soul ; away, Where woods their wardrobes doff To give the wind free play. Brocaded oak-trees wait, Reluctant to undress ; But the woods accept from Fate Their lusty nakedness, And with a many-armed caress "Welcome their stormy mate. 76 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Sandy Or where on rivers blacken Close fleets of hurrying leaves. Basil Or where with tawny bracken A lonely moorland heaves. Sandy Where ribbed and spiny hedges Hold fast the empty ear. Basil Or where like summer's pledges The ruddy hips appear. Sandy Where coal-black brambles shimmer. Basil Where in the naked copse, Q UEEN ELIZABE TH'S DAY 77 Gems in a charnel, glimmer The nightshade's eoral drops. Sandy Or where in twilight shaws The dusky-glowing thorn, Hides in its hoard of haws The crimson of the morn. Basil Where earth beholds the skies, Or heaven looks on the sea, Or where great mountains rise Command your soul to be. Menzies I may not ; all my brains Are baked and dried ; my veins Shrunk and unfLushed. 78 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil Menzies It steads not ; moods like mine Must run their courses out ; Nothing can put to rout My gloom when I have swilled Life's sadness to the lees ; Nepenthe may not ease, Or nectar, heaven-distilled. Sandy Basil, tell us, pray, Why you called the day After the maiden queen % Basil Three centuries away The child of Anne Boleyn Drink wine. QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DA Y 79 Game to the English throne Upon this very day. Mbnzies Ah ! what a splendid age ! Then England's hope was high ; The world was half unknown ; And heaven and hell were nigh. On such a glorious stage I could have played a part "With other souls devout : But the world is now a mart, And all the earth found out. Hesperia is no more ! Erom Himalayan vales Our fathers sought its shore, And lit on isles and dales Of Greece and Arcady ; But soon they set their sails Sadly across the sea 80 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES And came to ^Etna's base ; Yet by Sicilian ways No dragon guarded tree "With golden apples grew. Undauntedly they passed The Tyrrhene waters blue, And reached the Iberian strand — Hesperia at last ! Not there the promised land. Westward that vision old Pled o'er the Atlantic main To sink for ever, slain By Californian gold. Basil This is the promised land ; God saw that it was good : You fail to understand That the world is but a mood, And time ours to command. Q UEEN ELIZA BETH 'S DAY 8 1 This is the hour of doom, Or this creation's morn Or Calvary's day of gloom : We die not ; were not born. Menzies Ah, you anachronists ! You poets ! It is you, With mellow purple mists That shade the dreary view Of life, a naked precipice Overhanging death's deep sea. Sandy Anachronists ! I rest on this, Whoe'er may count a schism : Mere by-blows are the world and we, And time within eternity A sheer anachronism. 82 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil A bull ! a thundering bull ! Menzies But not a blundering one ; For Chance directs the sun, And Fate is Fortune's fool. The world was scarcely made Ere Chance began its trade And changed to frozen poles And spaces tropic-bound • "What Fate created good ; And soulless or with souls Beasts grew each other's food : With floods all flesh was drowned ; And foul diseases came ; Earth issued forth in flame, And swallowed cities up ; Peoples and languages, Kingdoms and hierarchies, Q UEEN ELIZA BETH' S DAY 83 With wars and tortures rose : Nay, our most bitter cup For ever overflows "With Rich-and-poor alone : Chance has always spurned Our struggles to atone. Lo, in the simplest thing The good is overturned, Pate set aside with scorn ! The air is clear and sweet ; But the fog is in the street : In June the squares were green. What dreary places now ! Ere we may greet the spring, Must winter come again ; And man may not be born Without a woman's pain. Basil But God has no machine 84 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES For punching perfect worlds from cakes of chaos. Sandy How! Basil He works but as He can ; God is an artist, not an artisan. Darkly imagining, With ice and fire and storm, With floods and earthquake-shocks He gave our sphere its form. The meaning of His -work Grew as He wrought. In creases of the mud, in cooling rocks He saw ideas lurk — Mountains and streams. Of life the passionate thought Haunted His dreams. At last He tried to do The thing He dreamt. With plasm in throbbing motes, QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DA Y 85 With moss and ferns and giant beasts unkempt He laboured long, until at length He seemed To breathe out being. Flowers and forests grew Like magic at His word : mountain and plain, Jungle and sea and waste, "With miracles of strength and beauty teemed : In every drop and every grain, Each speck and stain, Was some new being placed, Minute or viewless. Then was He aghast, And all His passion to create grew tame ; For life battened on life. He thought To shatter all ; but in a space He loved His work again and sought To crown it with a sovereign grace ; And soon the great idea came. 1 If I could give my work a mind ; If I could make it comprehend How wondrously it is designed ; Enable it with head and heart 86 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES To mould itself to some accomplished end — That were indeed transcendent art.' Trembling with ecstasy He then made man, To be the world's atonement and its prince. And in the world God has done nothing since : He keeps not tinkering at a finished plan ; He is an artist, not an artisan. Menzies I've heard it sung, I've heard it said, I've read it oft in many books, That truth's as long as it is broad. I like your dilettante God : When man His work has perfected, Straight God will blot it out again, Or change it to a sterile moon, Upon whose past shall speculate Star-gazers from some brand-new land-and-sea. And why should mortal man complain Although no memory shall be QUEEN ELIZABETH'S DA Y 87 Of all the millions of his race, Who broke brave hearts still fronting Fate ; Although no rumour of Helen's looks, Although no Caesar's name of note, No mellow word that Shakespeare wrote, No echo of Wagner's spheral tune, Shall sound in any nook of space 1 God is an artist, and all art Is useless, other artists say. Sandy If God is art and art is God, I fear I don't believe in God. Basil That matters not since this is true — Hear me before you go away,, And turn this over in your heart — That God Himself believes in you. CHRISTMAS EVE CHRISTMAS EVE Sandy Ik holly hedges starving birds Silently mourn the setting year. Basil Upright like silver-plated swords The flags stand in the frozen mere. Brian The mistletoe we still adore Upon the twisted hawthorn grows. 92 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Menzies In antique gardens hellebore Fats forth its blushing Christmas rose. Sandy Shrivelled and purple, cheek by jowl, The hips and haws hang drearily. Basil Boiled in a ball the sulky owl Creeps far into his hollow tree. Brian In abbeys and cathedrals dim The birth of Christ is acted o'er; The kings of Cologne worship Him, Balthazar, Jasper, Melchior. Menzies And while our midnight talk is made Of this and that and now and then, CHRISTMAS EVE 93 The old earth-stopper with his spade And lantern seeks the fox's den. Sandy Oh, for a northern blast to blow These depths of air that cream and curdle ! Basil Now are the halcyon days, you know ; Old Time has leapt another hurdle ; And pauses as he only may Who knows he never can be caught. Brian The winter solstice, shortest day And longest night, was past I thought. Basil Oh yes ! but fore-and-aft a week Silent the winds must ever be, 94 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Because the happy halcyons seek Their nests upon the sea, Brian The Christmas-time ! the lovely things That last of it ! Sweet thoughts and deeds ! Sandy How strong and green old legend clings Like ivy round the ruined creeds ! Menzies A fearless, ruthless, wanton band, Deep in our hearts we guard from scathe, Of last year's log, a smouldering brand To light at Yule the fire of faith. Brian The shepherds in the field at night Beheld an angel glory-clad, And shrank away with sore affright. ' Be not afraid,' the angel bade. CHRISTMAS EVE 95 ' I bring good news to king and clown, To you here crouching on the sward ; For there is born in David's town A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ' Behold the babe is swathed, and laid Within a manger.' Straight there stood Beside the angel all arrayed A heavenly multitude. ' Glory to God,' they sang ; ' and peace, Good pleasure among men.' Sandy The wondrous message of release ! Menzies Glory to God again ! Brian Again ! God help us to be good ! 96 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Basil Hush 1 hark ! Without; the waits, the waits ! With brass, and strings, and mellow wood. Mbnzies A simple tune can ope heaven's gates ! Sandy Slowly they play, poor careful souls, With wistful thoughts of Christmas cheer, Unwitting how their music rolls Away the burden of the year. Basil And with the charm, the homely rune, Our thoughts like childhood's thoughts are given, When all our pulses beat in tune With all the stars of heaven. Menzies Oh cease ! Oh cease ! FLEET STREET ECLOGUES MENZIES ' A letter from my love to-day ! Oh, unexpected, dear appeal ! ' She struck a happy tear away And broke the crimson seal. ' My love, there is no help on earth, No help in heaven ; the dead-man's bell Must toll our wedding ; our first hearth Must be the well-paved floor of hell.' The colour died from out her face, Her eyes like ghostly candles shone ; She cast dread looks about the place, Then clenched her teeth, and read right on. ' I may not pass the prison door ; Here must I rot from day to day, Unless I wed whom I abhor, My cousin, Blanche of Valencay. CHRISTMAS EVE 99 ' At midnight with my dagger keen I'll take my life ; it must be so. Meet me in hell to-night, my queen, For weal and woe.' She laughed although her face was wan, She girded on her golden belt, She took her jewelled ivory fan, And at her glowing missal knelt. Then rose, ' And am I mad 1 ' she said. She broke her fan, her belt untied ; With leather girt herself instead, And stuck a dagger at her side. She waited, shuddering in her room Till sleep had fallen on all the house. She never flinched ; she faced her doom : They two must sin to keep their vows. FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Then out into the night she went ; And stooping, crept by hedge and tree ; Her rose-bush flung a snare of scent, And caught a happy memory. She fell, and lay a minute's space ; She tore the sward in her distress ; The dewy grass refreshed her face ; She rose and ran with lifted dress. She started like a morn-caught ghost Once when the moon came out and stood To watch ; the naked road she crossed, And dived into the murmuring wood. The branches snatched her streaming cloak ; A live thing shrieked ; she made no stay ! She hurried to the trysting-oak — Right well she knew the way. CHRISTMAS EVE 101 Without a pause she bared her breast And drove her dagger home and fell, And lay like one that takes her rest, And died and wakened up in hell. She bathed her spirit in the flame, And near the centre took her post ; From all sides to her ears there came The dreary anguish of the lost. The devil started at her side Comely, and tall, and black as jet. ' I am young Malespina's bride ; Has he come hither yet % ' 'My poppet, welcome to your bed.' ' Is Malespina here 'i ' ' Not he ! To-morrow he must wed His cousin Blanche, my dear ! ' FLEET STREET ECLOGUES ' You lie; he died with me to-night.' ' Not he ! It was a plot.' ' You lie.' ' My dear, I never lie outright.' ' We died at midnight, he and I.' The devil went. Without a groan She, gathered up in one fierce prayer, Took root in hell's midst all alone, And waited for him there. She dared to make herself at home, Amidst the wail, the uneasy stir. The blood-stained flame that filled the dome, Scentless and silent, shrouded her. How long she stayed I cannot tell ; But when she felt his perfidy, She marched across the floor of hell ; And all the damned stood up to see. CHRISTMAS EVE 103 The devil stopped her at the brink : She shook him off; she cried, 'Away ! ' ' My dear, you have gone mad, I think.' ' I was betrayed : I will not stay.' Across the weltering deep she ran — A stranger thing was never seen : The damned stood silent to a man ; They saw the great gulf set between. To her it seemed a meadow fair ; I And flowers sprang up about her feet ; She entered heaven ; she climbed the stair ; And knelt down at the mercy-seat. Seraphs and saints with one great voice Welcomed that soul that knew not fear ; Amazed to find it could rejoice Hell raised a hoarse half-human cheer. 104 FLEET STREET ECLOGUES Brian Hush ! hark ! the waits, far up the street ! Basil A distant, ghostly charm unfolds, Of magic music wild and sweet, Anomes and clarigolds. THE END IN PREPARATION PLAYS: An Unhistorical Pastoral; A Romantic Farce ; Bruce, a Chronicle Play ; Smith, a Tragic Farce ; Scaramouch in Naxos, A Panto- mime : by John Davidson. With a Frontispiece, Title- page, and Cover Design by Aubrey Beardsley. The Edition will be limited to 500 copies. Sm. 4to, 7s. 6d. net. SOME PRESS OPINIONS OF ' FLEET STREET ECLOGUES ' ' We find ourselves talking first of Mr Davidson's style : and, in fact, it is his style and form that first chiefly attract one. They are in themselves, if he had but little to say, a noteworthy thing, with a literary raison tVitre and a pleasure-giving property all their own. . . . In a word, Mr Davidson seems to have in his fingers that " natural magic " which Matthew Arnold was per- haps the first of our critics to point out as the special heritage of the Celt.' — Speaker, ' The very title has a smack of delicious quaintness and inconsequence, and the skill with which the modernity of the age-end journalist's life and work is wrought into the grace and spaciousness of the verse is admirable; . . . large, easy, natural, with something of the largeness and ease, and something, too, of the brave humanity of the Elizabethans. . . . The moods of elation or depression in which one is either crushed by the consciousness of the littleness of one's work in the world, or exalted by the faith in its abiding value, are common to all who work with the brain. And how excellently are these moods, and the accidents which inspire them, and the words in which they find articulate expression, presented through the temperament of the author and his creations, M enzies, Basil, Brian and Sandy, the Tityrus and Melibceus, the Daphnis and Corydon of these modern eclogues.' — Vanity Fair. [2] ' His treatment of the Elizabethan eclogue, his infusing it with a modern in- tensity of note, while retaining its old lyric sweetness, his dramatic vitalisation and his merely metrical development of it, is a notable artistic triumph. None of our younger poets has published a book so full of creative energy, of fancy and imagination so compact, of poetic glamour so irresistible, so marked from end to end by the careless fecundity of power.' — Daily Chronicle. ' For those who get the book let us point emphatically to the fine expression and the power of conception shown in the episode, pp. 22-27 I the pretty Harvest-song at p. 69 ; the development of the theme, " God is an artist, not an artisan," from pp. 84-87, and the fine tragic ballad at the end.' — St James's Gazette. ' The concluding eclogue is " Christmas Eve," which contains many fine touches and a powerful tale. ... Mr Davidson is one of the most courageous of living poets, but this last stroke surpasses in splendour of audacity anything he has hitherto dared to utter.' — Glasgow Herald. ' Mr Davidson is an original poet, and his inspiration comes primarily and mainly from himself. His language has a force and individuality, a delicacy and beauty all its own. — Sunday Sun. ' His adoption of the eclogue form is fortunate. . . . Nothing is more agree- able in this volume than the ease and lightness in general of Mr Davidson's style.' — Globe. ' There is no denying the evidence of the " Fleet Street Eclogues ** that the writer is a man of genius.' — Scottish Leader. ' It is the work of a poet, and this not only in parts or preponderatingly, but on every page.'— Library Review. ' By some atmospheric magic (for he has no stage directions, no set scene), and by the very fewest words, he suggests the whole scene, and characterises his dramatis personce most convincingly.' — Star. ' There is an Elizabethan, lyric grace about so many of these pages, and a note so truly fresh and charming, that " Fleet Street Eclogues " deserves to be very widely read.*— Review of Reviews. ' One of their finest characteristics is their Attic parsimony of words— a necessary condition indeed of all literary work of the highest stamp.' — Echo. ' In its kind this is perhaps the most memorable volume of the year. — Academy, ' Mr Davidson has independent thought and manner, a rhythmic faculty, characteristic verve when he employs his muse on topics of social practice.' — Athenaum. List of Books m gelles Jettres ik 1893 ' A WORD must be said for the manner in which the publishers **- have produced the volume {i.e. "The Earth Fiend"), a sumptuous folio, printed by Constable, the etchings on Japanese paper by Me. Goulding. The volume should add not only to Mr. Strang's fame but to that of Messrs. Elkin Mathews and John Lane, who are rapidly gaining distinction for their beautiful editions of belles-lettres.' — Daily Chronicle, Sept. 24, 1892. Referring to Mr. Le Gallienne's 'English Poems' and ' Silhouettes ' by Mr. Arthur Symons : — ' We only refer to them now to note a fact which they illustrate, and which we have been observing of late, namely, the recovery to a certain extent of good taste in the matter of printing and binding books. These two books, which are turned out by Messrs. Elkin Mathews and John Lane, are models of artistic publishing, and yet they are simplicity itself. The books with their excellent printing and their very simplicity make a harmony which is satisfying to the artistic sense.' — Sunday Sun, Oct. 2, 1892. ' Mr. Le Gallienne is a fortunate young gentleman. I don't know by what legerdemain he and his publishers work, but here, in an age as stony to poetry as the ages of Chatterton and Richard Savage, we find the full edition of his book sold before publication. How is it done, Messrs. Elkin Mathews and John Lane? for, without depreciating Mr. Le Gallienne's sweetness and charm, I doubt that the marvel would have been wrought under another publisher. These publishers, indeed, produce books so de- lightfully that it must give an added pleasure to the hoarding of first editions.'— Katharine Tynan in The Irish Daily Independent. ' To Messrs. Elkin Mathews and John Lane almost more than to any other, we take it, are the thanks of the grateful singer especially due; for it is they who have managed, by means of limited editions and charming workmanship, to impress book- buyers with the belief that a volume may have an aesthetic and commercial value. They have made it possible to speculate in the latest discovered poet, as in a new company — with the difference that an operation in the former can be done with three half-crowns.' St. James's Gazette. July 1893. List of Books IN BELLES LETTRES (Including some Transfers) PUBLISHED BY Elkin Mathews and John Lane VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. N.B. — The Authors and Publishers reserve the right of reprinting any book in this list if a second edition is called for, except in cases where a stipulation has been made to the contrary, and of printing a separate edition of any of the books for America irrespective of the numbers to which the English editions are limited. ADDLESHAW (PERCY). Poems. i2mo. 5s. net. [In preparation. ANTAEUS. The Backslider and other Poems. 100 only. Small 4to. 7s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. BEECHING (H. C), J. W. MACKAIL, & J. B. B. N|CHOLS Love in Idleness. With Vignette by W. B. Scott. Fcap. 8vo, half vellum. 12s.net. [Very few remain. Trans/erred by the Authors to the present Publishers. THE PUBLICATIONS OF BENSON (ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER). Poems. 500 copies. i2mo. 5s.net. [In preparation. BENSON (EUGENE). From the Asolan Hills : A Poem. 300 copies. Imp l6mo. 5s. net. [ Very few remain. BINYON (LAWRENCE). Poems. i2mo. 5s. net. [In preparation. BOURDILLON (F. W.). A Lost God : A Poem. With Illustrations by H. J. Ford. 500 copies. 8vo. 6s. net. [ Very few remain. BOURDILLON (F. W.). Ailes d'Alouette. Poems printed at the private press of Rev. H. Daniel, Oxford. 100 only. i6mo. £l, 10s. net. [ Very few remain. BRIDGES (ROBERT). The Growth of Love. Printed in Fell's old English type at the private press of Rev. H. Daniel, Oxford. 100 only. Fcap. 4to. £2, 12s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. COLERIDGE (HON. STEPHEN). The Sanctity of Confession : A Romance. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. net. [A few remain. CRANE (WALTER). Renascence: A Book of Verse. Frontispiece and 38 designs by the Author. Imp. i6mo. 7s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. Also a few fcap. 4ta £\ t is. net. And a few fcap. 4to, Japanese vellum. £i, 155. net. ELKIN MATHEWS &* JOHN LANE CROSSING (WM.). The Ancient Crosses of Dartmoor. With n plates. 8vo, cloth. 4s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. DAVIDSON (JOHN). PLAYS : An Unhistorical Pastoral ; A Romantic Farce ; Bruce, a Chronicle Play; Smith, a Tragic Farce; Scaramouch in Naxos, a Pantomime, with a Frontis- piece, Title-page, and Cover Design by Aubrey Beardsley. 500 copies. Small 4to. 7s. 6d. net. [In Preparation. DAVIDSON (JOHN). Fleet Street Eclogues. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 5s. net. DAVIDSON (JOHN). The North Wall. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. The fem remaining copies transferred by the Author to the present Publishers. DE GRUCHY (AUGUSTA). Under the Hawthorn, and other Verses. Frontis- piece by Walter Crane. 300 copies. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. Also 30 copies on Japanese vellum. 15s. net. DE TABLEY (LORD). Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical. By John Leicester Warren (Lord De Tabley). Illustrations and Cover Design by C. S. Ricketts. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. DIAL (THE). No. 1 of the Second Series. Illustrations by Ricketts, Shannon, Pissarro. 200 only. 4to. £1, is. net. [ Very few remain. The present series will be continued at irregular intervals. THE PUBLICATIONS OF FIELD (MICHAEL). Sight and Song. (Poems on Pictures.) 400 copies. l2mo. 5s.net. [Very few remain. FIELD (MICHAEL). Stephania: A Trialogue in Three Acts. 250 copies. Pott 4to. 6s. net. [ Very few remain. GALE (NORMAN). Orchard Songs. Fcap. 8vo. With Title-page and Cover Design by Will Rothenstein. 5s. net. Also a Special Edition limited in number on small paper (Whatman) bound in English vellum. £i, is. net. {In preparation. GARNETT (RICHARD). A Volume of Poems. 5s. net. [In Preparation. GOSSE (EDMUND). The Letters of Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Now first edited. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparation. GRAHAME (KENNETH). Pagan Papers : A Volume of Essays. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparation. GREENE (G. A.). Italian Lyrists of To-day. Translations in the original metres from about thirty-five living Italian poets, with bibliographical and biographical notes. Crown 8vo. 5 s - net. [In preparation. ELKIN MATHEWS &» JOHN LANE HAKE (DR. T. GORDON). A Selection from his Poems. Edited by Mrs. Meynell. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparation. HALLAM (ARTHUR HENRY). The Poems, together with his essay ' On Some of the Characteristics of Modern Poetry and on the Lyrical Poems of Alfred Tennyson.' Edited, with an Introduction, by Richard Le Gallienne. 550 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. [ Very few remain. HAMILTON (COL. IAN). The Ballad of Hadji and other Poems. Etched Frontispiece by Wm. Strang. 550 copies. i2mo. 3s. net. Transferred by the Author to the present Publishers. HAYES (ALFRED). The Vale of Arden and Other Poems. With Title- page and Cover Design by Lawrence Housman. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. [In preparation. HICKEY (EMILY H.). Verse Tales, Lyrics and Translations. 300 copies. Imp. l6mo. 5s. net. HORNE (HERBERT P.). Diversi Colores : Poems. With ornaments by the Author. 250 copies. i6mo. 5s. net. IMAGE (SELWYN). Carols and Poems. With decorations by H. P. Horne. 250 copies. 5s. net. [In preparation. JOHNSON (EFFIE). In the Fire and Other Fancies. Frontispiece by Walter Crane. 500 copies. Imp. i6mo. 3s. 6d. net. THE PUBLICATIONS OF JOHNSON (LIONEL). The Art of Thomas Hardy: Six Essays. With Etched Portrait by Wm. Strang, and Bibliography by John Lane. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. net. Also 150 copies, large paper, with proofs of the portrait. £1, is. net. Weryphortly. JOHNSON (LIONEL). A Volume of Poems. i2mo. 5s. net. [In preparation. KEATS (JOHN). Three Essays, now issued in book form for the first time. Edited by H. Buxton Forman. With life-mask by Haydon. Fcap. 4to. 10s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. LEATHER (R. K.). Verses. 250 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. net. Transferred by the Author to the present Publishers. LEATHER (R. K.), & RICHARD LE GALLIENNE. The Student and the Body-Snatcher and Other Trifles. 250 copies. Royal i8mo. 3s. net. Also 50 copies large paper. 7s. 6d. net. [Very few remain. LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). Prose Fancies. With Cover Design and Title-page by Wii/l Rothenstein. 5s. net. Also a limited large paper edition. 12s.6d.net. \In preparation. LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). The Book Bills of Narcissus. An Account rendered by Richard le Gallienne. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram. 5s. ELKIN MATHEWS &• JOHN LANE LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). English Poems. Second Edition, i2mo. 5s. net. LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). George Meredith : Some Characteristics. With a Biblio- graphy (much enlarged) by John Lane, portrait, etc. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. net. LE GALLIENNE (RICHARD). The Religion of a Literary Man. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. Also a special edition on hand-made paper, xos. 6d. net [In preparation. LETTERS TO LIVING ARTISTS. 500 copies. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. Very few remain. MARSTON (PHILIP BOURKE). A Last Harvest : Lyrics and Sonnets from the Book of Life. Edited by Louise Chandler Moulton. 500 copies. Post 8vo. 5s. net. Also 50 copies on large paper, hand-made. xos. 6d. net. \Veryfew remain. MARTIN (W. WILSEY). Quatrains, Life's Mystery and other Poems. i6mo. 2s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. MARZIALS (THEO.). The Gallery of Pigeons and Other Poems. Post 8vo. 4s. 6d. net. [ Very few remain. Transferred by the Author to the present Publishers. MEYNELL (MRS.), (ALICE C. THOMPSON). Poems. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain. 12s. 6d. net. THE PUBLICATIONS OF MEYNELL (MRS.). The Rhythm of Life, and other Essays. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. A few of the 50 large paper copies (First Edition) remain. 12s. 6d. net. MURRAY (ALMA). Portrait as Beatrice Cenci. With critical notice containing four letters from Robert Browning. 8vo, wrapper. 2s. net. NETTLESHIP (J. T.). Robert Browning : Essays and Thoughts. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s.6d.net. Half a dozen of the Whatman large paper copies (First Edition) remain. £1, is. net. NOBLE QAS. ASHCROFT). The Sonnet in England and Other Essays. Title- page and Cover Design by Austin Young. 600 copies. Crown 8vo. S s - net - Also 50 copies large paper. 125. fid. net. NOEL (HON. RODEN). Poor People's Christmas. 250 copies. i6mo. is. net. [ Very few remain. OXFORD CHARACTERS. A series of lithographed portraits by Will Rothenstein, with text by F. York Powell and others. To be issued monthly in term. Each number will contain two portraits. Part I. ready Sept. 1893, will contain portraits of Sir Henry Acland, K.C.B., F.R.S., M.D., and of Mr. W. A. L. Fletcher, of Christ- church, President of the University Boat Club. 350 copies only, folio, wrapper, Ss. net per part ; 50 special copies containing proof impressions of the portraits signed by the artist, 10s. 6d. net per part. PINKERTON (PERCY). Galeazzo : A Venetian Episode and other Poems. Etched Frontispiece. i6mo. 5 s - net. [ Very few remain. Transferred iy the Author to the present Publishers. ELKIN MATHEWS &• JOHN LANE RADFORD (DOLLIE). Songs. A New Volume of Verse. [In preparation. RADFORD (ERNEST). Chambers Twain. Frontispiece by Walter Crane. 250 copies. Imp. l6mo. 5s. net. Also 50 copies large paper, zos.6d.net. [Very few remain. RHYMERS' CLUB, THE BOOK OF THE. A second series is in preparation. SCHAFF (DR. P.). Literature and Poetry: Papers on Dante, etc. Portrait and Plates, 100 copies only. 8vo. 10s. net. SCOTT (WM. BELL). A Poet's Harvest Home: with an Aftermath. 300 copies. i2mo. 5s. net. [ Very few remain. *** Will not be reprinted. STODDARD (R. H.). The Lion's Cub ; with other Verse. Portrait. 100 copies only, bound in an illuminated Persian design. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. [ Very few remain. SYMONDS gOHN ADDINGTON). In the Key op Blue, and other Prose Essays. Cover designed by C. S. Ricketts. Second Edition. Thick Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. net. THOMPSON (FRANCIS). A Volume of Poems. With Title-page and Cover Design by Lawrence Housman. 500 Copies. l2mo. 5s. net. [In preparation. TODHUNTER (JOHN). A Sicilian Idyll. Frontispiece by Walter Crane. 250 copies. Imp. i6mo. 5s. net. Also 50 copies large paper, fcap. 410. zos. 6d. net. [Very few remain. THE PUBLICATIONS OF TOMSON (GRAHAM R.). After Sunset. A Volume of Poems. With Title-page and Cover Design by R. Anning Bell. i2mo. 5s. net. Also a limited large paper edition, izs. 6d. net. [In preparation. TREE (H. BEERBOHM). The Imaginative Faculty : A Lecture delivered at the Royal Institution. With portrait of Mr. Tree from an unpublished drawing by the Marchioness of Granby. Fcap. 8vo, boards. 2s. 6d. net. TYNAN HINKSON (KATHARINE). A Cluster of Nuts : Poems. With Title-page and Cover Design by Lawrence Housman. 500 copies. 5s. net. \In preparation. VAN DYKE (HENRY). The Poetry of Tennyson. Third Edition, enlarged. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. net. The late Laureate himself gave valuable aid in correcting various details. WATSON (WILLIAM). The Eloping Angels: A Caprice. Second Edition. Square l6mo, buckram. 3s. 6d. net. WATSON (WILLIAM). Excursions in Criticism : being some Prose Recrea- tions of a Rhymer. Second Edition. l2mo. 5 s - net. WATSON (WILLIAM). The Prince's Quest, and other Poems. With a Bibliographical Note added. Second Edition. l2mo. 4s. 6d. net. WEDMORE (FREDERICK). Pastorals of France — Renunciations. A volume of Stories. Title-page by John Fulleylove, R.I. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. \In preparation. A few of the large paper copies of Renunciations (First Edition) remain. 10s. 6d. net. ELKIN MATHEWS &> JOHN LANE WICKSTEED (P. H.). Dante. Six Sermons. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 2s. net. WILDE (OSCAR). The Sphinx. A poem decorated throughout in line and colour, and bound in a design by Charles Ricketts. 250 copies. £2, 2s. net. 25 copies large paper. £$, 5s. net. \In preparation. WILDE (OSCAR). The incomparable and ingenious history of Mr. W. H., being the true secret of Shakespear's sonnets now for the first time here fully set forth, with initial letters and cover design by Charles Ricketts. 500 copies. 10s. 6d. net. Also 50 copies large paper. 21s. net. [In preparation. WILDE (OSCAR). Dramatic Works, now printed for the first time with a specially designed Title-page and binding to each volume, by Charles Shannon. 500 copies. 7s. 6d. net per vol. Also s° copies large paper, iss. net per vol. Vol. i. Lady Windermere's Fan : A Comedy in Four Acts. Vol. 11. The Duchess of Padua : A Blank Verse Tragedy in Five Acts. Vol. in. A Woman of No Importance : A Comedy in Four Acts. [In preparation. WILDE (OSCAR). Salome: A Tragedy in one Act, done into English. With 10 Illustrations and Cover Design by Aubrey Beardsley. 500 copies. 15s. net. Also 50 copies, large paper. 30s. net. [/« preparation. WYNNE (FRANCES). Whisper. A Volume of Verse. Fcap. 8vo, buckram. 2s. 6d. net. Transferred hy the Author to the present Publishers. i 4 PUBLICATIONS OF ELKIN MATHEWS &> JOHN LANE The Hobby Horse A new series of this illustrated magazine will be published quarterly by subscription, under the Editorship of Herbert P. Home. Subscription £1 per annum, post free, for the four numbers. Quarto, printed on hand-made paper, and issued in a limited edition to subscribers only. The Magazine will contain articles upon Literature, Music, Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, and the Decorative Arts ; Poems ; Essays ; Fiction; original Designs; with reproduc- tions of pictures and drawings by the old masters and contemporary artists. There will be a new title- page and ornaments designed by the Editor. Among the contributors to the Hobby Horse are : The late Matthew Arnold. Lawrence Binyon. Wilfrid Blunt. Ford Madox Brown. The late Arthur Burgess. E. Burne-Jones, A.R.A. Austin Dobson. Richard Garnett, LL.D. A. J. Hipkins, F.S.A. Selwvn Image. Lionel Johnson. Richard Le Gallienne. Sir F. Leighton, Bart., P.R.A. T. Hope McLachlan. May Morris. C. Hubert H. Parry, Mus. Doc. A. W. Pollard. F. York Powell. Christina G. Rossetti. W. M. Rossetti. John Ruskin, D.C.L., LL.D. Frederick Sandys. The late W. Bell Scott. Frederick J. Shields. J. H. ShOrthouse. James Smetham. Simeon Solomon. A. Somervell. The late J. Aldington Symonds. Katharine Tynan. G. F. Watts, R.A. Frederick Wedmore. Oscar Wilde. Etc. Etc. Prospectuses on Application. THE BQDLEY HEAD, VIGO STREET, LONDON, W. ' Nearly every book put out by Messrs. Elkin Mathews & John Lane, at the Sign of the Bodley Head, is a satisfaction to the special senses of the modern bookman for bindings, shapes, types, and papers. They have surpassed themselves, and registered a real achievement in English bookmaking by the volume of " Poems, Dramatic and Lyrical," of Lord DeTabley.' Newcastle Daily Chronicle. Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable Printers to Her Majesty