the first rank of English poets; a reputation which was more than sustained by the two works which followed, The Princess and In Memoriam. So well known and popular, indeed, had Mr. Tennyson become, that, on the death of Wordsworth in 1851, it seemed only natural that "the laurel greener from the brows of him who uttered nothing base" should be placed on his head. Since then, down to the present year (1879), numerous volumes, published at short intervals, have enchanted all readers of English, and have proved that the deep interest which the poet takes in all the movements and events of his time has in nowise abated. Besides those already mentioned, the most beautiful and most notable of his poems are The Idylls of the King, founded on the legends of King Arthur; and Maude, a lyrical monologue, or drama with one speaker. As a writer of pure English, and of polished and melodious verse, Mr. Tennyson is without a rival. The subjects of his poems may not be grand, and the music of his words may be rather tender and pure than lofty and vigorous; but the movements and thoughts of his generation have seldom stirred a poet more truly or found a sweeter utterance. The sad unrest of his fellows, and their expectation of greater and still greater wonders, have found no simpler, tenderer, or nobler expression than in his verse; while none has ever taught more wisely, or more clearly, the lessons of "self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control.” THE SONG OF THE BROOK. To understand this beautiful little poem aright we must remember that it is set in fragments amongst the verses of a longer poem. This longer poem tells of the happy days of childhood and the change that comes over them. Friends die, or are scattered abroad throughout the world, and others fill their places; and when once more we come back to the old haunts everything is changed, except the brooks and fields. They alone seem "to go on for ever"; they alone seem to escape the sorrow of "remembering happier things." But the poem does not end altogether sadly, for by a skilful touch we are shown that the old friendships do not die, and are even handed down from father to son, from mother to daughter, and we are made to feel, as the poet says in another poem, that ""Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all." P. 12, 1. 4. Bicker = to move quickly with a murmuring sound. Literally to make the noise of a rapid succession of strokes. Compare. "Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd, P. 12, 1. 7. Thorp = a small group of houses, a village. Compare the following lines in Burns's Hallowe'en, which have the metre as well as the idea of The Brook : P. 12, 1. 17. "Whyles (at times) owre a linn (cascade) the burnie plays, Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle; Whyles cookit (appeared and disappeared) underneath Below the spreading hazel, Unseen that night." = P. 12, 1. 18. Fallow ploughed land left exposed to the air. It is derived either from Scotch fale = a sod, or A.S. fealo yellowish-red. = P. 12, 1. 19. Fairy foreland. A tiny bit of the bank projecting into the brook; as small and as beautiful, with its flowers and grasses, as a foreland in fairyland. P. 12, 1. 31. Silvery water-break. Where the water tumbles over the stones in silvery foam. = P. 13, 1. 37. Lawn any open grassy space. Originally it meant a clear or cleared space amongst trees, where the view is unobstructed. P. 13, 1. 38. Cover the covert or lurking-place of a wild animal; hence a small group of shrubs or brushwood. P. 13, 1. 43. Netted sunbeam. A sunbeam when it falls on moving water is broken into bright lines, which cross and recross one another like the threads of a net. P. 13, 1. 46. Wildernesses P. 13, 1. 47. Shingly bars pebbles. Where they occur in = = wild, uncultivated places. long mounds of large, loose a stream, the water generally spreads out broad and shallow, and has very little current. HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD. This is perhaps the most beautiful little song in the English language. Not only is the verse exquisitely musical, and the feeling exquisitely tender, but the description of the scene it represents is perfect in its skilful simplicity; not one word too many or too few, not one word too strong or too weak, is used to tell us of the first, heavy, silent, tearless grief, relieved at last by the burst of tears over the little unconscious child. P. 13, 1. 11. The face-Notice, not his face, but the face. So we speak of a dead body as "it"-the indefiniteness giving a kind of mysterious solemnity. Coleridge was especially skilful in touches such as these. Cf. Ancient Mariner throughout. When the Warrior is spoken of as a live being, we of course have "him" and "his." P. 13, 1. 15. Like summer tempest. As sudden as a storm of rain in summer. P. 13, 1.16. Sweet my child. This order of words is very common in the older language. In Shakespeare we find, "Sweet my mother" (Ro. & Jul. iii. 5, 200), "Good my friends" (Coriol. v. 2, 8), &c. Indeed, the possessive adjective became almost a part of the following word. Notice in French milord (Eng. my lord), monsieur, &c. ROBERT SOUTHEY. ROBERT SOUTHEY was born at Bristol in the year 1774. After receiving what education there was to be got at a country school, he was sent to Westminster, and afterwards to Oxford, with the intention of his becoming a clergyman. Before long, however, his opinions became so unsettled that he gave up all idea of taking orders; and, quitting the University, wandered for some time through Spain and Portugal. After residing for a short while in Ireland, he at length settled down at Keswick, in Cumberland, in the year 1803, and commenced a life of untiring hard work at literature of every description. Poetry, history, biography, translation, essay-writing-in all he excelled; in all he wrote much, yet in none do we find marks of hurry or carelessness. His poetry, though highly appreciated by the best literary men of his time, is now but little admired, probably because we have ceased to care for wild tales of mystery and romance written in verse, such as Thalaba and The Curse of Kehama; but no one can be blind to the smoothness, the clearness, and, frequently, the real beauty of his language. His Life of Lord Nelson is one of the most perfect biographies we possess, both in style and composition. In 1813 Southey was made Poet Laureate; and in 1835, as a still further mark of public favour, he received a pension of 300l. a year. Till 1840 he continued writing much and delighting many. Then, at last, health and brain both gave way under the strain of unceasing work, and for the last three years of his life his mind was dark and troubled. He died in 1843. THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. The poem depends in no way for its meaning upon the battle of Blenheim, nor on Marlborough or Eugene. It will be well, however, to refer to your histories for some slight information about these. Such well-known names are introduced to make the story seem real; while, on the other hand, the unfamiliar names Kaspar, Peterkin, and Wilhelmine are meant, not only to remind us of the locality of Blenheim, but also to correspond, humorously enough, with the unfamiliar opinions of their bearers. P. 14, 1. 7. Peterkin = "Little Peter." The termination "kin "is the same as that in napkin, manikin, &c. P. 14, 1. 16. Natural sigh. Old Kaspar sighs because the sight of the skull really makes him feel sad, and not because he only wants to make some one believe he feels sad. P. 14, 1. 20. There's many. Kaspar is, of course, not made to talk book English, but the English which common country folk use. Many of these uneducated ways of speaking, though now set down as wrong, were once used by everyone. So we find even Shakespeare, again and again, putting sentences like old Kaspar's into the mouths of well-educated people: "There is no more such masters" (Cymb. iv. 2, 371). “Is there not wars? Is there not employment?" (2 Henry IV. i. 2, 85.) P. 14, 1. 22. Ploughshare. The iron blade of a plough which cuts the ground. "Shire," "shear," "shore," and many others are connected with "share." What is the meaning common to them all? P. 14, 1. 26. Cf. the numberless such examples. "You hear the learn'd Bellario what he writes" (Merch. of Ven. iv. i. 167); "Mark King Richard how he looks" (Rich. II. iii. 3, 61), and so on. The idiom is common enough in English and of constant occurrence also in Greek. Attention is called to that of which we are going to speak by naming it, and then the sentence is constructed independently. (See also John Gilpin, 1. 85.) P. 14, 1. 28. Wonder-waiting eyes = eyes which showed that she expected something wonderful. P. 14, 1. 32. Rout the breaking up of a body of men; the confusion or discomfiture of an army. Put to rout to push or throw into confusion, to defeat. = to P. 14, 1. 35. Quoth-past tense of old verb cwethean speak. It is the only part of the verb still used, and that but seldom. P. 14, 1. 36. Blenheim. A village on the Danube, in Bavaria, twenty-three miles N.N.W. of Augsburg. P. 15, 1. 45. Childing mother = mother with child. P. 15, 1. 50. The field was won. In a battle each side tries to drive the other from the ground it occupies. When one drives the other off its ground, and wins that ground, it is said " to win the field," or "to win the victory." P. 15, 1. 59. Notice the simple, childlike wisdom of little Wilhelmine, coming straight from her heart;—a wisdom which old Kaspar believes in, but feels himself bound, as a man of the world, to contradict, sticking to the fact that "it was a famous victory." Notice, too, the practical question of little Peterkin, which Kaspar frankly confesses he cannot answer. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, the poet who of all poets has had the most influence on those of the present day, was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, in the year 1770. He was educated on the banks of Esthwaite, and loved the scenery of the Lakes as a boy, lived among it as a man, and died at Rydal Mount, near Rydal Lake, in 1850. The hills and woods and streams of this beautiful district, and the simple folk who dwelt in it, were his constant study and his never-failing delight. After taking his degree at Cambridge, in 1791, he travelled a good deal on the Continent, especially in France, and became an ardent sharer in the hopes of the Revolutionists. But the wild lawlessness and selfish ambition into which the movement eventually degenerated, in the end alienated his sympathy. Returning to England, he published his first volume of poems in 1793, and, having been left a small legacy, which made his means sufficient for his simple wants, he settled, with his dearly loved sister, at Racedown, in Dorsetshire, where he made the friendship of Coleridge. In 1797 they moved to Alfoxden, in Somerset, to be near Coleridge; and in the next year the two friends published the Lyrical Ballads. After a winter in Germany with the same friend (where the Prelude was begun), he took a small cottage at Grasmere, and there finished the Prelude (1805-6), which was not published, however, till 1850, the year of his death. In |