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Works, 8 volumes, Chapman & Ilall, London, 1874-76. Works, 10 vol. umes, edited by C. G. Crump, The Macmillan Co. Poems, Dialogues in Verse, and Epigrams, 2 volumes, edited by C. G. Crump, the Macmillan Co. Letters and other unpublished Writings, edited by S. Wheeler, London, 1897: Letters, Private and Public, edited by S. Wheeler, London, 1899. Selections from Landor, edited by Sidney Colvin (Golden Treasury Series).

BIOGRAPHY * FORSTER (John), W. S. Landor : A Biography, 2 volumes, 1869; also (abridged) as Vol. I. of Works, 1874. * Colvin (Sidney), Landor (English Men of Letters Series).


ROBINSON (II. C.), Diary, Vol. II, Chap. XII, etc. Mitford (M. R.), Recollections of a Literary Life. BROWNING (Elizabeth Barrett), in Horne's New Spirit of the Age. EMERSON, Natural History of Intellect.. De QUINCEY, Masson's edition, Vol. XI. DUFFY (C. Gavan), Conversations with Carlyle. HUNT (Leigh), Lord Byron and his Contemporaries. BlessINGTON (Marguerite), The Idler in Italy. MADDEN (R. R.), The Literary Life and Correspondence of the Countess of Blessington. See also the Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

LATER CRITICISM * Boynton (H. W.), Poetry of Landor, in the Atlantic Monthly, Pol. 90, page 126, July, 1902. * Colvin (Sidney), Preface to the volume of Selections in the Golden Treasury Series. * DOWDEN (Edward), Studies in Literature. EVANS (E. W.), A Study of Landor. HENLEY (W. H.), Views and Reviews. LEE (Vernon), Studies in Literary Psychology: The Rhetoric of Landor, in the Contemporary Review, Vol. 84, Page 856, 1903. LOWELL (J. R.), Latest Literary Essays and Addresses. OLIPHANT (Margaret), Victorian Age of English Literature. SAINTSBURY (George), Essays in English Literature, Second Series. SCUDDER (H. E.), Men and Letters: Landor as a Classic. * STEDMAN (E. C.), Victorian Poets. STEPHEN (Leslie), Hours in a Library, Vol. II. * SWINBURNE, Miscellanies.

* WOODBERRY (G. E.), Studies in Letters and Life. BROOKS (S. W.), English Poets. DE VERE (Aubrey), Essays, chiefly on Poetry, Vol. II. DEVEY (J.), Comparative Estimate of Modern English Poets. Dixon (W. M.), English Poetry. DOWDEN (Edward), French Revolution and English Literature. Evans (E. Waterman, Jr.), Walter Savage Landor: A Critical Study. TUTTON (Lawrence), Landmarks of Florence. MITCHELL (D. G.), England's Lands, Letters and Kings. NENCIONI (E.), Letteratura inglese: Colvin, Biografia di Landor. SARRAZIN (G.), Poètes modernes de l'Angleterre. SCHUYLER (E.), Italian Influences.


* * WATSON (W.), Landor's Hellenics. JAPP (A. H.), Landor, in Stedman's Victorian Anthology. ** SWINBURNE, Poems and Ballads, First Series: In Memory of Walter Savage Landor. * SWINBURNE, Studies in Song : Song for the Centenary of Walter Savage Landor.


WHEELER (S.), in Letters and Other Unpublished Writings of Landor.






I SING the fates of Gebir. He had

dwelt Among those mountain-caverns which

retain His labors yet, vast halls and flowing

wells, Nor have forgotten their old master's

name Though sever'd from his people : here,

incensed By meditating on prir ieval wrongs, He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose Whole nations ; here, ten thousand of

most might He call'd aloud; and soon Charoba saw His dark helm hover o'er the land of

Nile. What should the virgin do? should

royal knees Bend suppliant ? or defenceless hands

engage Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms ? For 'twas reported that nor sword suf


Nor shield immense nor coat of massive

mail, But that upon their towering heads they

bore Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars. This told she Dalica, then cried aloud,

If on your bosom laying down my head I sobb’d away the sorrows of a child, If I have always, and Heav'n knows I

have, Next to a mother's held a nurse's name, Succor this one distress, recall those

days, Love me, tho' 'twere because you lov'd

me then.” But whether confident in magic rites Or touched with sexual pride to stand

implor'd, Dalica smiled, then spake: “ Away

those fears, Though stronger than the strongest of

bis kind, He falls ; on me devolve that charge ;

he falls. Rather than fly him, stoop thou to al

lure; Nay, journey to his tents. A city stood Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,

Iground Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this Perhaps he sees an ample room for war. Persuade him to restore the walls him




In honor of his ancestors. persuade . But wherefore this advice? young, un.

espoused, Charoba want persuasions! and “O Dalica !” the shuddering maid

exclaim'd, “Could I encounter that fierce frightful

man? Could I speak ? no, nor sigh.” “ And

canst thou reign ? " Cried Dalica ; Yield empire or com

ply.” Unfixed, though seeming fixed, her

eyes downcast, The wonted buzz and bustle of the court From far through sculptured galleries

met her ear; Then lifting up her head, the evening Pour'd a fresh splendor on her burnished

throne: The fair Charoba, the young queen, com

plied. But Gebir, when he heard of her ap

proach, Laid by his orbed shield ; his vizor-helm, His buckler and his corset he laid by, And bade that none attend him : at his

side Two faithful dogs that urge the silent


Bending, he kissed her garment, and

retired. He went, nor slumber'd in the sultry

noon, When viands, couches, generous wines,

persuade, And slumber most refreshes; nor at night, When heavy dews are laden with disease; And blindness waits not there for linger

ing age. Ere morning dawn'd behind him, he

arrived At those rich meadows where young

Tamar fed The royal flocks entrusted to his care. “Now," said he to himself,“ will I repose At least this burthen on a brother's

breast." His brother stood before him; he, amazed, Rear'd suddenly his head, and thus began. “ Is it thou, brother! Tamar, is it thou ! Why, standing on the valley's utmost

verge, Lookest thou on that dull and dreary

shore Where beyond sight Nile blackens all

the sand? And why that sadness? When I past our

sheep The dew-drops were not shaken off the

bar, Therefore if one be wanting, 'tis untold." “Yes, one is wanting, nor is that

untold," Said Tamar ; "and this dull and dreary

shore Is neither dull nor dreary at all hours." Whereon the tear stole silent down his

cheek, Silent, but not by Gebir unobserv'd : Wondering he gazed awhile, and pitying

spake. “Let me approach thee; does the morn

ing light Scatter this wan suffusion o'er thy brow, This faint blue lustre under both thine

eyes?" “O brother, is this pity or reproach ?" Cried Tamar, “ cruel if it be reproach, If pity, O how vain !” “Whate'er it be That grieves thee, I will pity, thou but

speak, And I can tell thee, Tamar, pang for

pang." “ Gebir! then more than brothers are

we now ! Everything(take my hand) will I confess. I neither feed the flock nor watch the


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And push their heads within their mas

ter's hand. There was a brightening paleness in his

face, Such as Diana rising o'er the rocks Shower'd on the lonely Latmian; on his

brow Sorrow there was, yet nought was there But when the royal damsel first he saw, Faint, hanging on her hand-maid, and

her knees Tottering, as from the motion of the

car, His eyes looked earnest on her, and Show'd, if they had not, that they might

have, lov'd, For there was pity in them at that hour. With gentle speech, and more with

gentle looks. He sooth'd her ; but lest Pity go beyond And crost Ambition lose her lofty aim

those eyes

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Her mantle show'd the yellow samphire

pod, Her girdle the dove-color'd wave serene. “Shepherd,” said she, “and will you

wrestle now, And with the sailor's hardier race en

gage?” I was rejoiced to hear it, and contrived How to keep up contention : could I fail By pressing not too strongly, yet to

press ? • Whether a shepherd, as indeed you

seem, Or whether of the hardier race you boast, I am not daunted ; no; I will engage. “ But first," said she, “what wager will

you lay?" “A sheep," I answereil : “add whate'er

you will."

"I can not,” she replied, “make that

return : Our hided vessels in their pitchy round Seldom, unless from rapine, hold a sheep, But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have im

bibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when

unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the

How can I, lost in love? But, Gebir, why That anger which has risen to your

cheek? Can other men ? could you? what, no

reply! And still more anger, and still worse

conceal'd! Are these your promises ? your pity

this?" “Tamar, I well may pity what I feel Mark me aright-I feel for thee

proceedRelate me all." - Then will I all relate," Said the young shepherd, gladden’d

from bis heart. " 'Twas evening, though not sunset, and

the tide Level with these green meadows, seem'd

yet higher : 'Twas pleasant; and I loosen'd from my

neck The pipe you gave me, and began to play. O that I ne'er had learnt the tunefulart! It always brings us enemies or love. Well, I was playing, when above the

waves Some swimmer's head methought I saw

ascend; I. sitting still, survey'd it, with my pipe Awkwardly held before my lips half

closed, Gebir! it was a Nymph! a Nymph

divine ! I cannot wait describing how she came, How I was sitting, how she first assun'd The sailor; of what happend there re

mains Enough to say, and too much to forget. The sweet deceiver stepped upon this

bank Before I was aware ; for with surprise Moments fly rapid as with love itself. Stooping to tune afresh the hoarsen'd

reed, I heard a rustling, and where that arose My glance first lighted on her nimble

feet. Her feet resembled those long shells

explored By him who to befriend his steed's dim

sight Would blow the pungent powder in the

eye. Her eyes too! O immortal Gods! her

eyes Resembled-what could they resemble ?

what Eres resemble those ? Even her attire Was not of wonted woof nor vulgar art:


Shake one and it awakens, then apply
Its polisht lips to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs

there. And I have others given me by the

nymphs, Of sweeter sound than any pipe you

have; But we, by Neptune! for no pipe con

tend, This time a sheep I win, a pipe the next." Now came she forward eager to engage, But first her dress, her bosom then sur

vey'l, And heav'd it, doubting if she could

deceive. Her bosom seem'd, inclos d in haze like

heav'n, To baffle touch, and rose forth unde

fined : Above her knee she drew the robe suc

cinct, Above her breast, and just below her

arms. " This will preserve my breath when

tightly bound. If struggle and equal strength should so


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Thus, pulling hard to fasten it, she spake, And, rushing at me, closed : I thrill'd

throughout And seem'd to lessen and shrink up with

cold. Again with violent impulse gushed my

blood, And hearing nought external, thus ab

sorb'd, I heard it, rushing through each turbid

vein, Shake my unsteady swimming sight in

air. Yet with unyielding though uncertain I clung around her neck; the vest be

neath Rustled against our slippery limbs en

twined: Often mine springing with eluded force Started aside and trembled till replaced : And when I most succeeded, as I thought, My bosom and my throat felt so com

pressed That life was almost quivering on my

lips, Yet nothing was there painful : these

are signs Of secret arts and not of human might; What arts I cannot tell; I only know My eyes grew dizzy and my strength

decay'd; I was indeed o'ercome ... with what

regret, And more, with what confusion, when

I reached The fold, and yielding up the sheep, she

cried, This pays a shepherd to a conquering

maid.” She smiled, and more of pleasure than

disdain Was in her dimpled chin and liberal lip, And eyes that languished, lengthening,

just like love. She went away ; I on the wicker gate Leant, and could follow with my eyes

alone. The sheep she carried easy as a cloak; But when I heard its bleating, as I did, And saw, she hastening on, its hinder feet

(slip, Struggle, and from her snowy shoulder One shoulder its poor efforts had un veild,

[tears; Then all my passions mingling fell in Restless then ran I to the highest ground To watch her; she was gone; gone down

the tide ;

And the long moonbeam on the hard

wet sand Lay like a jasper column half up-rear'd." But, Tamar! tell me, will she not

return?” “She will return, yet not before the Again is at the full: she promised this, Tho'. when she promised I could not

reply.” “By all the Gods I pity thee! go on, Fear not my anger, look not on my

shame, For when a lover only hears of love He finds his folly out, and is ashamed. Away with watchful nights and lonely

days, Contempt of earth and aspect up to

heaven, With contemplation, with humility, A tatter'd cloak that pride wears when

deform'd, Away with all that hides me from myParts me' from others, whispers I am

wise : From our own wisdom less is to be reapt Than from the barest folly of our friend. Tamar! thy pastures, large and rich,

afford Flowers to thy bees and herbage to thy

sheep, But, battened on too much, the poorest

croft Of thy poor neighbor yields what thine

denies." They hasten'd to the camp, and Gebir

there Resolved his native country to forego, And order'd from those ruins to the right They forthwith raise a city. Tamar heard

(told, With wonder, tho' in passing 'twas halfHis brother's love, and sigh'd upon his own.




Ah what avails the sceptred race,

Ah what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace!

Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

1 The exact dates of writing, for nearly all of Landor's poems, are unknown; and the same is true for Browning, and, on the whole, for all of the following poets. From this point on, there fore, the poems of each author will be arranged chronologically according to the dates of publication, and the dates of writing (if known) will be given only when especially important.

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