A Voyage with Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, Mrs. Oliphant,

Cesnola's Discoveries in Cyprus,

458

A. W. Kinglake,

...

...

J. A. Symonds,

Sir John Lubbock,

The "Pentameron" of Walter Savage Landor, Sidney Colvin,

Ode on Intimations of Immortality,

Tennyson's "Idylls of the King,”

The Passing of Arthur,

SYNOPTICAL TABLE OF AUTHORS,

LITERARY AND BIOGRAPHICAL MEMORANDA OF LIVING AUTHORS,

QUESTIONS, AND SUGGESTIONS,

REVIEW,

[Mount Latmos was in Caria, the south-west division of ancient Asia Minor. There, in a glade of the forest, and under the loving gaze of the moon, slumbered the beauteous Endymion (pr. Endym'ion), on whom Jove had bestowed the boon of perpetual youth, but coupled with perpetual sleep.]

Upon the sides of Latmos was outspread

A mighty forest; for the moist earth fed
So plenteously all weed-hidden roots

Into o'erhanging boughs and precious fruits.
And it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep,

Where no man went; and if from shepherd's keep

A lamb strayed far a-down those inmost glens,
Never again saw he the happy pens

Whither his brethren, bleating with content,
Over the hills at every nightfall went.
Among the shepherds 'twas believed ever
That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever
From the white flock, but passed unworried
By any wolf, or pard* with prying head,
Until it came to some unfooted plains

Where fed the herds of Pan: ay, great his gains
Who thus one lamb did lose. Paths there were many,
Winding through palmy fern, and rushes fenny,
And ivy banks; all leading pleasantly

To a wide lawn, whence one could only see
Stems thronging all around between the swell
Of tuft and slanting branches: who could tell
The freshness of the space of heaven above,

Edged round with dark tree-tops? through which a dove
Would often beat its wings, and often too
A little cloud would move across the blue.

eve,

Full in the middle of this pleasantness
There stood a marble altar, with a tress
Of flowers budded newly; and the dew
Had taken fairy fantasies to strew
Daisies upon the sacred sward last
And so the dawned light in pomp receive.
For 'twas the morn: Apollo's upward fire
Made every eastern cloud a silvery pyre
Of brightness so unsullied that therein
A melancholy spirit well might win
Oblivion, and melt out his essence fine
Into the winds: rain-scented eglantine
Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun;
The lark was lost in him; cold springs had run
To warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass;
Man's voice was on the mountains; and the mass
Of nature's lives and wonders pulsed tenfold,
To feel this sunrise and its glories old.

Now while the silent workings of the dawn
Were busiest, into that selfsame lawn

* Used in older English (Spenser, Shakspeare, Dryden) for any spotted beast of prey-leopard, panther, etc. "The models upon which Keats formed himself in the Endymion, the earliest and by much the most considerable of his poems, are obviously The Faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher, and The Sad Shepherd of Ben Jonson."-LORD JEFFREY: Edinburgh Review (1820). But the influence was rather that of Spenser, to whom Keats, in common with Fletcher and Jonson, was largely indebted. See (p. 196) Professor Masson's remarks on the growth of Keats' diction.

All suddenly, with joyful cries, there sped
A troop of little children garlanded;
Who gathering round the altar, seemed to pry
Earnestly round as wishing to espy

Some folk of holiday: nor had they waited
For many moments, ere their ears were sated
With a faint breath of music, which even then
Filled out its voice, and died away again.
Within a little space again it gave

Its airy swellings, with a gentle wave,

To light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes breaking
Through copse-clad valleys,—ere their death, o'ertaking
The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea.

Endymion (1818).

A DREAM OF THE UNKNOWN.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (1792-1822).

[Remarking on the line, “And wild roses, and ivy serpentine," F. T. Palgrave says, Our language has no line modulated with more subtle sweetness. A good poet might have written, And roses wild; yet this slight change would disenchant the verse of its peculiar beauty."]

I dreamed that as I wandered by the way

Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring,

And gentle odors led my steps astray,

Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,

Daisies, those pearled Arctūri* of the earth,

The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lusht eglantine,

Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colored May,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any weakened eyes behold.