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 more than ease or excellence of style. It is a quality begotten by instinct upon culture; one which all artists of equal rank possess in equal measure.

There are in the English language three elegiac poems so great that they eclipse and efface all the elegiac poetry we know; all of Italian, all of Greek. It is only because the latest born is yet new to us that it can seem strange or rash to say so. The "Thyrsis" of Mr. Arnold makes a third with "Lycidas" and "Adonais." It is not so easy as those may think who think by rote and praise by prescription to strike the balance between them. The first however remains first, and must remain; its five opening lines are to me the most musical in all known realms of verse; there is nothing like them; and it is more various, more simple, more large and sublime than the others; lovelier and fuller it cannot be.

The least pathetic of the three is "Adonais," which indeed is hardly pathetic at all; it is passionate, subtle, splendid; but "Thyrsis," like "Lycidas," has a quiet and tender undertone which gives it something of sacred. Shelley brings fire from heaven, but these bring also "the meed of some melodious tear." There is a grace ineffable, a sweet sound and sweet savour of things past, in the old beautiful use of the language of shepherds, of flocks and pipes; the spirit is none the less sad and sincere because the body of the poem has put on this dear familiar raiment of romance; because the crude and naked sorrow is veiled and chastened with soft shadows