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The thunder bellows far from snow to

snow Home, Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie), And loud and louder roars the flood be

low. Heigho! but soon in shelter shall we be : Home, Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie), Or shall he find before his term be speil, Some comelier maid that he shall wish

to wed ? (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie.) For

weary is work, and weary day by day To have your comfort miles on miles

away. Home. Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie. Or may it be that I shall find my mate, And he returning see himself too late ? For work we must, and what we see,

see, And God he knows, and what must be,

must be When sweethearts wander far away

from me. Home, Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie. The sky behind is brightening up anew (Home, Rose, and home, Provence and

La Palie), The rain is ending, and our journey too : Heigho!aha ! for here at home are we:In, Rose, and in, Provence and La Palie.


I do not ask the tints that fill The gate of day 'twixt hill and hill; I ask not for the hues that fleet Above the distant peaks ; my feet Are on a poplar-bordered road, Where with a saddle and a load A donkey, old and ashen-gray, Reluctant works his dusty way. Before him, still with might and main Pulling his rope, the rustic rein, A girl : before both him and me, Frequent she turns and lets me see, Unconscious, lets me scan and trace The sunny darkness of her face And outlines full of southern grace.

Following I notice, yet and yet, Her olive skin, dark eyes deep set, And black, and blacker e'en than jet, The escaping hair that scantly showed, Since oer it in the country mode, For winter warmth and summer shade, The lap of scarlet cloth is laid. And then, back-falling from the head, A crimson kerchief overspread Her jacket blue : thence passing down, A skirt of darkest yellow-brown, Coarse stuff, allowing to the view The smooth limb to the woollen shoe. But who—here 's some one following

too,-A priest, and reading at his book! Read on, O priest, and do not look ; Consider, -she is but a child,Yet might your fancy be beguiled. Read on, () priest, and pass and go! But see, succeeding in a row, Two, three, and four, a motley train, Musicians wandering back to Spain ; With fiddle and with tambourine, A man with women following seen. What dresses, ribbon ends, and flowers ! And, -- sight to wonder at for hours,The man,--to Phillip has he sat ?-With butterfly-like velvet hat; One dame his big bassoon conveys, On one his gentle arm he lays ; They stop, and look, and something say, And to España " ask the way. But while I speak, and point them

on, Alas! my dearer friends are gone ; The dark-eyed maiden and the ass Have had the time the bridge to pass. Vainly, beyond it far descried, Adieu, and peace with you abide, Gray donkey, and your beauteous guide. The pictures come, the pictures go, Quick, quick, currente calamo.

From Mari Magno, 1862.


CURRENTE CALAMO QUICK, painter, quick, the moment seize Amid the snowy Pyrenees; More evanescent than the snow, The pictures come, are seen, and go : Quick, quick, currente calamo.


COME, Poet, come!
A thousand laborers ply their task,
And what it tends to scarcely ask,
And trembling thinkers on the brink
Shiver, and know not how to think.
To tell the purport of their pain,
And what our silly joys contain ;
In lasting lineaments portray
The substance of the shadowy day;
Our real and inner deeds rehearse,
And make our meaning clear in verse:
Come, Poet, come! for but in vain
We do the work or feel the pain,
And gather up the seeming gain,
Unless before the end thou come
To take, ere they are lost, their sum.

Whoe'er, Whate'er Thou art,
Within the closest veil of mine own ip-

most heart.
What is it then to me
If others are inquisitive to see?
Why should I quit my place to go and

ask If other men are working at their tasks Leave my own buried roots to go And see that brother plants shall gour: And turn away from Thee, O Thou ikke

Holy Light To look if other orbs their orbits key

aright, Around their proper sun, Deserting Thee, and being undone. O let me love my love unto myself alone. And know my knowledge to the worlu

unknown; And worship Thee, O hid One, O WK

sought, As but man can or ought, Within the abstracted'st shrine of Ly

least breathed on thouglit. Better it were, thou savest, to consent: Feast while we may, and live ere life be

spent ; Close up clear eyes, and call the un

stable sure, The unlovely lovely, and the filthy pure: In self-belyings, self-deceivings roll. And lose in Action, Passion, Talk, the


Come, Poet, come!
To give an utterance to the dumb,
And make vain babblers silent, come:
A thousand dupes point here and there,
Bewildered by the show and glare:
And wise men half have learned to

Whether we are not best without.
Come, Poet; both but wait to see
Their error proved to them in thee.

Come, Poet, come!
In vain I seem to call. And yet
Think not the living times forget.
Ages of heroes fought and fell
That Homer in the end might tell ;
O'er grovelling generations past
Upstood the Doric fane at last;
And countless hearts on countless years
Had wasted thoughts, and hopes, and

Rude laughter and unmeaning tears,
Ere England Shakespeare saw, or Rome
The pure perfection of her dome.
Others, I doubt not, if not we,
The issue of our toils shall see;
Young children gather as their own
The harvest that the dead had sown,
The dead forgotten and unknown.


Nay, better far to mark off thus pura

air, And call it Heaven: place bliss azi

glory there ; Fix perfect homes in the unsubstantial And say, what is not, will be by-and-bre.




To spend uncounted years of pain.
Again, again, and yet again,
In working out in heart and brain

The problem of our being here;
To gather facts from far and near,
Upon the mind to hold them clear,
And, knowing more may yet appear,
Unto one's latest breath to fear,
The premature result to draw-
Is this the object, end and law,

And purpose of our being here?

O LET me love my love unto myself alone, And know my knowledge to the world

unknown; No witness to my vision call, Bebolding. unbeheld of all ; And worship Thee, with Thee with

drawn apart,



To every clime, in every age, hath

taught ; If in this human complex there be aught Not lost in death, as not in birth acquired, O then, though cold the lips that did

convey Rich freights of meaning, dead each liv

ing sphere Where thought abode, and fancy loved

to play, Thou yet, we think, somewhere somehow

still art, And satisfied with that the patient heart The where and how doth not desire to hear.


wear out heart, and nerves, and

brain, id give oneself a world of pain ; : eager, angry, fierce, and hot, perious, supple-God knows what, ir what's all one to have or not ; false, unwise, absurd, and vain ! »r 'tis not joy, it is not gain, is not in itself a bliss, ily it is precisely this

That keeps us all alive. ) say we truly feel the pain, nd quite are sinking with the strain ;ntirely, simply, undeceived, lieve, and say we ne'er believed he object, een were it achieved, thing we e'er had cared to keep; ith heart and soul to hold it cheap, nd then to go and try it again ; false, unwise, absurd, and vain ! , 'tis not joy, and 'tis not bliss, nly it is precisely this

That keeps us still alive. 1869. ONNETS ON THE THOUGHT OF


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f it is thou whose casual hand with

draws What it at first as casually did make, ay what amount of ages it will take Vith tardy rare concurrences of laws, Ind subtle multiplicities of cause, The thing they once had made us to remake ;

[awake, ay hopes dead slumbering dare to reSen after utmost interval of pause, What revolutions must have passed, be

fore the great celestial cycles shall restore Che starry sign whose present hour is

gone ; What worse than dubious chances interpose.

[pose With cloud and sunny gleam to recomThe skiey picture we had gazed upon.

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But if as not by that the soul desired Swayed in the judgment, wisest men

have thought And furnishing the evidence it sought, Man's heart hath ever fervently required, And story, for that reason deemed in


"Twill all be well: no need of care ; Though how it will, and when, and

where, We cannot see, and can't declare. In spite of dreams, in spite of thought, 'Tis not in vain, and not for nouglit, The wind it blows, the ship it goes, Though where and whither, no knows.






Complete Works, 14 volumes; Poetical Works, 3 volumes; Poetica Works, Globe Edition, 1 volume; Selected Poems (Golden Treasury Series), The Macmillan Co. Letters, 2 volumes, see below.



* Letters of Matthew Arnold, edited by G. W. E. Russell, 2 volums 1899. Fitch (Joshua), Thomas and Matthew Arnold (Great Educatin Series). THORNE (W. H.), Life of Matthew Arnold, 1887. *GARNET (R.), Arnold, in the Dictionary of National Biography. SAINTSBLE (George), Life of Matthew Arnold (Modern English Writers), 1899. PA (II. W.), Matthew Arnold (English Men of Letters Series), 1902. Ri's (G. W. E.), Matthew Arnold (Literary Lives), 1904.


FARRAR (F. W.), Men I llave known. Clough (A. H.), Prose Remais (originally in the North American Review, July, 1853). * Roscoe (1.0 Poems and Essays, Vol. II; The Classical School of English Poetry, Va:thew Arnold, 1859. * SWINBURNE, Essays and Studies : Matthew Arnolis New Poems (Originally in the Fortnightly Review, October, 1867). F MAN (II. B.), Our Living Poets : Matthew Arnold (Originally in Tinslet Magazine, September, 1868). AUSTIN (Alfred), The Poetry of the Periwi (Originally in Temple Bar, August and September, 1869). WHIPFLI (E. P.), Recollections : Matthew Arnold, 1887.


BIRRELL (Augustine), Res Judicatæ; Papers and Essays. BrRROCGH(John), The Light of Day: Spiritual Insight of Matthew Arnold. Dit DEN (Edward), Transcripts and Studies. Garnett (Richard), Essari an Ex-Librarian. *GATES (L. E.), Three Studies in Literature. Gark (L. E.), Studies and Appreciations: The Return of Conventional Life ILARRISON (Frederie), The Choice of Books. HARRISON (Freder

ennyson, Ruskin, Mill, and Other Literary Estimates. HENLEY V. E.), Views and Reviews. HUDSON (W. H.), Studies in Interetation. * HUTTON (R. H.), Literary Essays. Modern Guides of Engih Thought in Matters of Faith. MUSTARD (W. P.), Homeric Echoes

Matthew Arnold's Balder. Nescioni (E.), Letteratura Inglese. OliLAST (Margaret), Victorian Age of English Literature. Paul (H. W.), en and Letters: Matthew Arnold's Letters. SAINTSBURY (George), Cor(ted Impressions. * STEDMAN (E. C.), Victorian Poets. STEPHEN (Les*), Studies of a Biographer. Traill (II. D.), New Fiction and Other says on Literary Subjects. *WOODBERRY (G. E.), Makers of Literature. CHENEY (J. V.) The Golden Guess. Dawson (W. H.), Matthew Arnold id His Relation to the Thought of Our Time. DAWSON (W.J.), Makers

Modern English. Dixon (W.M.) English Poetry: Blake to Browning. UFF (M. E. G.), Out of the Past. GALTON (A.), Urbana Scripta. ALTON (A.), Two Essays on Matthew Arnold, with Some of His Letters ► the Author. MACARTHUR (Henry), Realism and Romance. NADAL E. S.) Essays at Home and Elsewhere. SELKIRK (J. B.), Ethics and Æsnetics of Modern Poetry: Modern Creeds and Modern Poetry. SHARP Imy), Victorian Poets. STEARNS (F. P.), Sketches from Concord and fpledore. SWANWICK (A.), Poets the Interpreters of Their Age. WALKER Hugh), The Great Victorian Poets.


BourdiLLON (F. W.), Sursum Corda : To Matthew Arnold in America. HAIRP (J. C.), Glen d’Esseray and Other Poems: Balliol Scholars, 1840*43; A Remembrance. TRUMAN (Joseph), Afterthoughts: Laleham, a Poem.


Smart (Thomas B.), The Bibliography of Matthew Arnold.

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