Part 20 (2/2)
”Just o When she was lying hoggish at the quay, And ed, and stamped, and shoved, and pushed, and swore
And ever an anon, with crapulous glee, Grinned horadual she was hauled: Then one the tiller took, And chewed, and spat upon his hand, and bawled; And one the canvas shook Forth like a mouldy bat; and one, with nods And smiles, lay on the bowsprit end, and called And cursed the Harbour-unwale to the keel, Rat riddled, bilge bestank, Sli her oozy flank, And sprawl ahed And leapt, and turned indraught
”And now, behold! a shadow of repose Upon a line of gray She sleeps, that transverse cuts the evening rose, She sleeps and dreams away, Soft blended in a unity of rest All jars, and strifes obscene, and turbulent throes 'Neath the broad benediction of the West--
”Sleeps; and es as she sleeps, And dies, and is a spirit pure; Lo! on her deck, an angel pilot keeps His lonely watch secure; And at the entrance of Heaven's dockyard waits Till fro leaps And that strong hand within unbars the gates”
It is very far fro the finest poem in the volume It has not the noble hureat poe about poetry--nor the rapture of _Jessie_, nor the awful pathos of _Mater Dolorosa_, nor the gentle pathos of _Aber Stations_, nor the fine religious feeling of _Planting_ and _Disguises_ But it came so pat to the occasion, and used the occasion so deftly to take hold of one's sympathy, that these other poems were read in the very mood that, I am sure, their author would have asked for the--”Never the tiether,” if I 's line Yet I trust that in any mood I should have had the sense to pay itscarefully read the opinions of some half-a-dozen reviewers upon it, I can only wonder and leave the question tohim by no means to miss _Mater Dalorosa_ and _Catherine Kinrade_ If he remain cold to these two poems, then I shall still preserve my own opinion
MR JOHN DAVIDSON
April 7, 1894 His Plays
For so to write about Mr John Davidson's ”Plays” (Elkin Mathews and John Lane), and always shi+rking the task at the last ly difficult one to write about, and I am not at all sure that after a few sentences I shall not stickeasier The recent fine weather has, however, made me desperate The s of the room in which I sit face S and S-E; consequently a deal of sunshi+ne co-table In ninety-nine cases out of the hundred this makes for idleness; in this, the hundredth case, it constrains to energy, because it is rapidly bleaching the puce-colored boards in which Mr Davidson's plays are bound--and (which is worse) bleaching them unevenly I have tried (let thethe book daily, as one turns a piece of toast--But this is not criticisination and Wit
Noould be easy and pleasant to express reat admiration of Mr Davidson's Muse, and justify it by a score of extracts and so make an end: and nobody (except perhaps Mr Davidson himself) would know my dishonesty For indeed and out of doubt he is in soer poets Of wit and of iination he has almost a plethora: they crowd this book, and all his books, from end to end And his frequent felicity of phrase is hardly less ree the truth of this will become more obvious Letinstinct for the principles that lie beneath its phenoenerous emotions--and still I have a store of satisfactory illustrations at hand for thethe leaves
Consider, for instance, the iht by Bannockburn--
Now are they hand to hand!
How short a front! How close! _They're sewn together with steel cross-stitches, halbert over sword,_ _Spear across lance and death the purfled seaht
That tireless brand that like a pliant flail Threshes the lives frolas, who but he!
A noble meets him now Clifford it is!
No bitterer foes seek out each other there
Parried! That told! And that! Clifford, good night!
And Douglas shouts to Randolf; Edward Bruce Cheers on the Steward; while the King's voice rings In every Scotch ear: such a narrow strait Confines this firth of war!
_Young Friar_: ”God gives aze with eyes unseared _Jewels!
These rass