genuine root-clutch upon the elements of man's experience, and an inevitable, indomitable working-up of them into human shape. To look at him without discerning this vital depth and reality were as good as no looking at all.

5. Moreover, the man and the poet are one and the same. His verse is no literary Beau-Brummelism, but a re-presentation of that which is presented in his consciousness. First there is inward, vital conversion of the elements of his experience, then verse, or version-first the soul, then the body. His voice, as such, has little range, nor is it any marvel of organic perfection; on the contrary, there is many a voice with nothing at all in it which far surpasses his in mere vocal excellence. Only in this you can hear the deep refrain of Nature, and of Nature chanting her moral ideal.

I.-PROEM.

1. I love the old melodious lays
Which softly melt the ages through,

The songs of Spenser's golden days,
Arcadian Sidney's silvery phrase,

Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew.

5

NOTES.

Line 3. Spenser, Edmund (1553-1598), one of the most illustrious of English poets, and author of the Faerie Queene. 4. Arcadian Sidney's, etc. Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586), one of the

most brilliant courtiers and writers of Queen Elizabeth's age. His principal work is The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia: hence the force of "Arcadian" above.

LITERARY ANALYSIS.-I. What word in the first line belongs to the diction

of poetry?

2. Which softly melt, etc.

3. Spenser's golden days.

"golden" as here used?

4. Sidney's silvery phrase.

What is the figure of speech?

Whence arises the applicability of the epithet

Express this in your own words.

5. What is meant by "our noon of time ?"-What is the figure of speech in this line?

2. Yet, vainly in my quiet hours
To breathe their marvellous notes I try;

I feel them, as the leaves and flowers

In silence feel the dewy showers,

And drink with glad, still lips the blessing of the sky.

3. The rigor of a frozen clime,

The harshness of an untaught ear,

The jarring words of one whose rhyme

Beat often Labor's hurried time,

10

Or Duty's rugged march through storm and strife, are here. 15

4. Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace, No rounded art the lack supplies;

Unskilled the subtle lines to trace,

Or softer shades of Nature's face,

I view her common forms with unanointed eyes.

5. Nor mine the seer-like power to show The secrets of the heart and mind;

To drop the plummet-line below

Our common world of joy and woe,

A more intense despair or brighter hope to find.

20

25

LITERARY ANALYSIS.-6, 7. Yet... try. Transpose into the prose order. 8-10. I feel... sky. What is the figure of speech?-What is the subject of "drink?"-By what expressive paraphrasis does the poet denote "the dewy showers?"

II. The rigor... clime. State what theory of climatic influence you suppose to be in the author's mind.

14. Beat... time. Explain the figure of speech.

16, 17. Of... supplies. What kind of sentence rhetorically?—Transpose into the direct order.-What is meant by "rounded art?"

20. I. What are the adjuncts to this pronoun?-Explain the allusion in the expression "unanointed eyes.”

23. To drop the plummet-line, etc. the thought in plain language.

What is the figure of speech?-Express

6. Yet here at least an earnest sense

Of human right and weal* is shown;

A hate of tyranny intense,

And hearty in its vehemence,

As if my brother's pain and sorrow were my own.

7. O Freedom! if to me belong

Nor mighty Milton's gift divine,

Nor Marvell's wit and graceful song,

Still with a love as deep and strong

As theirs, I lay, like them, my best gifts on thy shrine!

II.-MAUD MULLER.

Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadow sweet with hay.
Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,
The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast-

33. Marvell's wit.

Andrew Marvell (1620-1678), a prominent republican in the Cromwellian times, and for a while assistant

to Milton when the latter was

Latin secretary for the Commonwealth under Cromwell. He wrote poems which, though little known, are still read with pleasure by persons of taste.

LITERARY ANALYSIS.—27. right and weal. What is the distinction between these synonyms?

28. hate. Of what verb is this noun the subject?

30. As if... own. The pupil cannot fail to feel the heart-beat in this eminently Whittier-like line.

31.0 Freedom! What is the figure of speech? (See Def. 23.) 31-35. What kind of sentence rhetorically is stanza 7?

30

35

5

10

A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.
He drew his bridle in the shade

Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow, across the road.

15

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,

20

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

"Thanks!" said the Judge: "a sweeter draught
From a fairer hand was never quaffed."

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

"Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown,

And her graceful ankles, bare and brown,

And listened, while a pleased surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away.

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!

He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

My father should wear a broadcloth coat,
My brother should sail a painted boat.

I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,

And the baby should have a new toy each day.

25

30

35

10

And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still:

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.
Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:

No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,
But low of cattle and song of birds,
And health and quiet and loving words."

But he thought of his sister, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go;
And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the wayside well instead ;
And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover blooms;