Essays from 'The Guardian'

Flute. By

s, but cannot do. And yet we could name certain modern churches in London, for instance, to which posterity may well look back puzzled.-Could these exquisitely pondered buildings have been indeed works of the nineteenth century? Were they not the subtlest creations of the age in which Gothic art was spontaneous? In truth, we have had instances of workmen, who, through long, l

d original, there is great scholarship, a large comparative acquaintance with the poetic methods of earlier workmen, and a very subtle intelligence of their charm. Of that fine scholarship in this matter there is

l lingering around "white Algiers." In Mr. Gosse's "Return of [109] the Sw

awoke in the s

birds in thei

and alighted, and

e broad white

slave woman,

in her broad-li

self, with

swallows will

of palinode, "1870-1871," years of the Fr

sang that pa

o see the m

h myriad thu

ruth caught

ts like p

f pale emac

rowth of yea

ore us like

pleasure m

ets fell

robes are dash

dream of gor

the torturi

a Sultan's mi

ys harsh

1

lips are blanc

ounds and tor

n canvas sho

h faces clef

and life

r still-life and landscape, is unmistakably vivid and sound. T

untains clustere

mmer blossome

the creeping sa

ry-flowers

gh the valley

island where

ter dragged wit

tain sno

ht-time in the

mmer fills the

not, till the b

se, smite

lue snow-shado

aks against t

s the knots of

d their t

1

nward to the Lap

ng sweet day w

h our hearts wi

ard steps

what he describes: not so Mr. Gosse, whose acquaintance with northern lands and northern literature is special. We have indeed picked out those stanzas from a quiet personal record of certain amorous hours of early youth i

n it; and what marks in [112] him the final achievement of poetic scholarship is the perfect balance his work presents of so many and varied effects, as regards both matter and form. The memories of a large range of poetic reading are blent into one methodical music so perfectly that at times the notes

r, with no str

e white-throat o

nfinished ape

y. "The New Endymion" is a good instance of such sustained [113] power. Poetic scholar!-If we must reserve the sacred name of "poet" to a very small number, that humbler but perhaps still rarer title is due indisputably to Mr. Gosse. His work is like exquisite modern Latin verse, into the academic shape of which,

d justifies it. Yet there is a clear note of originality (so it seems to us) in the peculiar charm of his strictly personal compositions; and, generally, in such touches as he gives us of the soul, the life, of the [114] nineteenth century. Far greater, we think, than the charm of poems strictly classic in interest, such as the "Praise of Dionysus," exquisite as that is, is the charm of those pieces in which, so

aranth, no pom

art forget the

and snowdrops

er poets, he sings much of youth, he is often most successful in the forecast, the exp

by and lays h

mine eyes, tha

1

ess weight of g

red, and wait f

nd these limbs of

ears, and silv

me not, nor a

l that meekly

ivers into

reeds that not

f the poppies w

fe, and calm

n a lamp at

remnant of me

erests in life, creed-less as he may otherwise seem to be, is, we think, a token, though certainly an unconscious token, of the spontaneous originalit

to be also returning to the thoughts, the fears, t

1

it stran

the ha

things that

ous life as

t me jo

th bird

haughtier ai

rtner in t

o have in what is called "natural optimism," the beauty and benignity of nature, if let alone, in her mechanical round of changes with man and beast and flower. Her method, however, certainly invo

e, the tall yo

d the sunset,

as an uninv

wondering what d

earts and mine w

do their hands su

1

are not, for

ers, and trees an

ese, one atom

Walker's "Ploughman," of Mason's "Evening Hymn," in which Mr. Gosse is at his best.

er for a well

to live my l

unison with

ike the sing

n the horizon's

here all thin

the noiseless

hind and take

rise as one w

ss, but all the

and young del

men be sad thro

flying; in th

ines from her bri

re all gone,

h was indeed the genial youth of the world, but, sweetly attuned by his skill of touch, it is the sum of what Mr. Gosse has to tell us of the experience of life. Or is it

ion and

oo tender and

n any melod

Octob