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24 for Arnold. The power over him of tliis influence limited and lacking of the liigliest reaches in his was the secret at once of his weai<ness and of his craft — a critic with a fastidious horror of all vagrant strength. It made liim, on the whole, an eminently developments, a C'atliolic who Jiad not rid himself of sound and safe thinker, a classicist in literature, and that last infirmity of Catholicism — the hatred and in morality what we may call a Catholic of the the misunderstanding of dissent, higher and broader kind. But it left him also

R. A.

SiXGEU of spring, sun-flooded songster thou. In what far fields dost rove, thy book in hand, With eyes that beam love-light across the land? Who held all hearts alive, who, dead, canst bow All hearts to honour ; never may'st thou know The weary weight the long rolled ages bring On folk and country thou wert apt to sing ; So will no shade of sorrow gloom thy brow. Do young flowers freshen, Cliaucer, now for thee? Do shy buds burst and grasses grace the earth? AVhat birds in May make music to thy mirth? Rest, lifeless, lightless, so thou shalt not see With wild-wo'ed eyes the desolation we Have wrouglit upon the England of thy birth.

Who erst made music for thy sister's sleep (She parting presence liere one Christmas Eve), Passed from our praises now, thyself dost leave Thy fields part gathered, part yet ripe to reap : On that glad day, when one immortal leap Burst the tomb's bonds, nor stayed the sky to cleave, — Which those deem bright myth, these blest birth believe, Night's death-shade chilled thee on earth's upland steep. Poet, whose first fair song-flower bloomed for death, Whose eyes oft strove to pierce that cloudland grey. Through which, too swift, thou wing'st unwavering- way. Won at dear dowry of thy cherished breath ; Hast caught at length the words the sea-song saith. And found in night the secret shunned of day.