Moods And Memories

MOODS AND MEMORIES - I907 - Uniform with this Volume, THE DEAD GOD, by JAIES BLACKHALL. 25. 6d. net. DEDICATED TO Mrs. Patrick Campbell. r All Art is the Expression of some Emotion, and has for its object the production of Ernotions, -Bs. We have left behind us the noble wrong-headedness of the Platonic depreciation of Pleasure we are even past the stage when it might seem necessary to plead llumbly and with bated breath for its locus stazdi. History of CCSZ.-AINTSBURY. L.4 poem is that species of composition which is opposed o works of Science by proposing for its immediate object pleasure not truth, Biogf-alriu Lifrvavia.- COLERIDGE. Goethe was the last man to disdain the rich experience of centuries, the last man to imagine ignorance was an advantageous basis for a poet to stand upon, but he was too thoroughly an artist not to perceive the insufficiency of abstract theories in the prodction of a work of Art, which should be the Expression of real Experie1ce.- G. H. LEWES. TRlSTRAM TO ISEULT. POEMS In the court of his uncle King Marc, the king of Cornwall, who at this time resided at the Castle of Tyntagil, Tristram became expert in all knightly exercises. The king of Ireland, nt Tristrams solici- tations, promised to bestow his daughter Iseult in marriage on King Marc. The mother of Iseult gave to her daughters confidante a philtre, or love-potion, to be administered on the night of her nuptials. Of this beverage Tristram and Iseult, on their voyage to Cornwall, unfortunately partook. Its influence, during the remainder of their lives, regulated the affections and destiny of the lovers. -History of Ficlior. DUNLOP. I. THE sudden flame that stole into your face, And lit your beautyeven as a smile, When my lips slowly sought the self-same place Where you did consecrate this cup erewhile, A herald was proclaiming Passions reign. I drank the wine and knew the hopeless pain- That bliss in Hell of loving where to love means shame. POEMS Your sweet lips quivered as lips will when stricken By grief or joy not nameable, intense And in your eyes I saw mists merge and thicken- For passion pierced your bodys subtlest sense- When to my outstretched arms you swayed as one By sorrow smitten, or by joy undone, .4nd yielded up your lips and grievousness was not. With no light laugh your lips were yielded, dear. Twas no light thing your unkissed mouth to yield. Your face uplifted spoke of perfect fear When with closed eyes you learnt what love could wield. 0- perfect mouth is it less perfect now, Less worthy praise, because you did allow Stained lips to be where no small stain had ever been POEMS IV. I love you well, yet hate myself no less, For you are pledged to one who but for me Had wakened love through very worthiness. But your eyes speak of loves wild passionate plea, And now my soul has taken hold on shame And would forego the hard-won heights of fame For such an hour as this-for such a love as thine. Last night, love, when I kissed you in such wise That trembling, dear, and tame as any bird By winter tamed, within my arms a prize You hung, the while your spirit hovering heard The call of mine and flamed to its full height, I meant to go from out your face of light, But could not stir, mine such a piteous overthrow. v. POEMS VI. Since we must love we will love well, my dear, And fearful questioning well put to flight. God knows our sin is great-Ah, thats so clear Clear asthe dawn that drives the drowsy night. It may be through our sinning we shall know An ampler vision and our souls shall grow More perfect since they live in such abounding light. VII...