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CCLXV.

MUTABILITY,

FROM low to high doth dissolution climb,
And sink from high to low, along a scale
Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail :
A musical but melancholy chime,

Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,

Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.

Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear
The longest date do melt like frosty rime,
That in the morning whitened hill and plain
And is no more; drop like the tower sublime
Of yesterday, which royally did wear

His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain
Some casual shout that broke the silent air,
Or the unimaginable touch of Time.

The Editor desires to express here his genuine indebtedness to Messrs. Macmillan & Co., for kindly waiving their copyright in the sonnets of Lord Tennyson, and in those of one or two other writers to Messrs. Bentley & Sons, in connection with the sonnet by Mrs. Kemble; and to all copyright-holders with whom he has had communication-begging them to accept this acknowledgment of their uniform courtesy.

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No. i. DEAN ALFORD. (1810-1871.) The late Dean Alford was a very genuine poet; his work is characterised by refinement of emotion and firmness of handling.

No. iv. WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. This sonnet first appeared in a little book edited by Mrs. Isa Knox Craig, published in 1863, and entitled Poems: An Offering to Lancashire. Mr. Allingham's several volumes are all characterised by the same keenness of vision as regards the aspects of nature: and I may draw special attention to his series of charming sonnet-transcripts from nature that has lately, at intervals, appeared in the Athenæum.

Nos. v.-vii. MATTHEW ARNOLD. These sonnets adequately represent the work of Mr. Arnold in this direction. They are to be found in the volumes entitled Poems: Narrative and Elegiac and Poems: Dramatic and Lyric, published by Macmillan & Co. Familiar portions of the familiar work of one of the truest poets of our time, they thus call for no special comment.

Nos. viii.-xi. ALFRED AUSTIN. This accomplished writer and genuine poet has written some fine sonnets, his preferred form evidently being the Shakespearian. At the same time Mr. Austin's work is mostly lyric and dramatic, though he shows such unmistakable faculty for sonnet-writing that he might well publish a short volume of poetic work in this form, and thus enter more directly into the lists with acknowledged masters of the craft. His earlier volumes are entitled The Human Tragedy; The Tower of Babel; Interludes; The Golden Age; and The Season (Blackwood and Sons): and his later, Savonarola; Soliloquies in Song; and

At the Gate of the Convent (Macmillan & Co.)-the lastnamed published in 1885. One of Mr. Austin's pleasantest characteristics as a poet is his intense love of nature, more especially of nature in her spring aspects: also, I may add, a very ardent love of Country and pride therein. The four sonnets I have selected seem to me among the best, but here is another excellent one representing Mr. Austin in his lastnamed characteristic:-it is one of three addressed to England.

TO ENGLAND.

(Written in Mid Channel.)

Now upon English soil I soon shall stand,

Homeward from climes that fancy deems more fair;
And well I know that there will greet me there
No soft foam fawning upon smiling strand,
No scent of orange-groves, no zephyrs bland;
But Amazonian March, with breast half bare
And sleety arrows whistling through the air,
Will be my welcome from that burly land.
Yet he who boasts his birth-place yonder lies
Owns in his heart a mood akin to scorn

For sensuous slopes that bask 'neath Southern skies,
Teeming with wine and prodigal of corn,

And, gazing through the mist with misty eyes,
Blesses the brave bleak land where he was born.

BENJAMIN D'ISRAELI, EARL OF BEACONSFIELD. Lord Beaconsfield, even his most ardent admirers would admit, gave no evidence that he was possessed of the creative faculty in verse an ardent imagination he undoubtedly had. He wrote, so far as I am aware, only two sonnets, one of which -that on Wellington-certainly deserves a place in any sonnet-anthology I do not insert it in the body of this book, however, as its composition was fortuitous, and as its author has no broader claim to appear among genuine poets. There is a certain applicability to himself, in Lord Beacons field's words addressed to Wellington-for even the most bigoted opponent of the great statesman would hardly deny his possession of "a continuous state of ordered impulse' or his 'serenity' 'when all were troubled.'

WELLINGTON.

Not only that thy puissant arm could bind
The tyrant of a world; and, conquering Fate,
Enfranchise Europe, do I deem thee great;

But that in all thy actions I do find
Exact propriety: no gusts of mind

Fitful and wild, but that continuous state
Of ordered impulse mariners await

In some benignant and enriching wind,-
The breath ordained of Nature. Thy calm mien
Recalls old Rome, as much as thy high deed;
Duty thine only idol, and serene

When all are troubled; in the utmost need
Prescient; thy country's servant ever seen,

Yet sovereign of thyself, whate'er may speed.

No. xii. LOUISA S. BEVINGTON (GÜGGENBERGER). From Poems and Sonnets (Stock, 1882). Probably Miss Bevington's-to call her by the name she is publicly known by-highest poetic accomplishment is the piece in lyrical measures entitled, 'In the Valley of Remorse,' occurring in the same volume.

No. xiii. S. L. BLANCHARD (1804-1845).-From Lyric Offerings, 1828. This writer's work is, as a rule, characterised more by a certain delicacy of sentiment than by any robuster qualities. Wishes and Youth' is one of his strongest.

No. xiv. MATHILDE BLIND. Miss Blind, well known through her admirable translation of Strauss, her edition of Shelley's Poems in Baron Tanchnitz's series, her genuinely romantic novel, Tarantella, and various miscellaneous writings, has not published much in verse, but what she has given to the public is of no ordinary quality. Her slight volume entitled, St. Oran: and other Poems, had a deserved success on its appearance a year or two ago, and at once gave her high rank as a poet.

(No. xiv.) This very beautiful sonnet has an interesting history. I have heard that, some months ago, shortly after the death of the late Bishop of Manchester, it was reprinted without the author's knowledge, and sent in the name of 1000 operatives to Mrs. Fraser, the much-esteemed Bishop's widow. It is the lot of few authors to have so genuine, unsolicited, and unexpected a compliment paid to them, in this case all the more remarkable from the fact of Miss Blind being quite unknown to those who at once paid this compliment to poetry and showed a fine and noble sympathy. No. xv. is interesting as having been the author's first sonnet. It certainly does not read like a tentative effort.

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