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"Anna, did you ever hear your mother sing "'There's a bower of roses ?" She lighted up to say yes, but the light was all he needed to be lured on through a whole stanza, and a tender sight Ocean silvering to brown-haired Cynthia were the two, as he so innocently strove to recreate out of his own lost youth, for her and his nephew, this atmosphere of poetry.
And he had never thrown himself into it with more abandon than on this sunny morning with the Eternal Call sounding again in the ears of all who had truly heard the sermon. "Ye gates lift up your heads on high!" He was glorious on the first stanza, he was magnificent on the second. He climbed grandly up the heights of its crescendo:
As for philosophy and freedom, and all that, they tell devilish well in a stanza; but men have always been fools and slaves, and fools and slaves they always will be. 'Nay, said Herbert, 'I will not believe that. I will not give up a jot of my conviction of a great and glorious future for human destinies; but its consummation will not be so rapid as I once thought, and in the meantime I die.
Beaumont, nor Fletcher, nor both together were ever, I think, visited by such a starry gleam as that stanza. I know it is in "Rollo," but it is in "Measure for Measure" also; and I remember noticing that the Malones, and Stevens, and critical gentry were about evenly divided, these for Shakspeare, and those for Beaumont and Fletcher. But the internal evidence is all for one, none for the other.
He refers to her occasionally, especially in a stanza for which she owed the poet little thanks if she foresaw his immortality the eighty-third stanza in the forty-second canto of the Orlando Furioso, in which he places Lucretia's portrait in the temple to woman.
J. Boswell, jun., gives the following reading of the first four lines of the last stanza, not from Dodsley's Collection, but from an earlier one, called The Grove. 'Inglorious or by wants inthralled, To college and old books confined, A pedant from his learning called, Dunces advanced, he's left behind. Bentley, in the preface to his edition of Paradise Lost, says:
Recalling now the discussion of the rhythms of prose in the previous chapter, and remembering that rhyme and stanza are special forms of reinforcing the impulse of rhythm, what shall be said of free verse? It belongs, unquestionably, in that "neutral zone" which some readers, in Dr. Patterson's phrase, instinctively appropriate as "prose experience," and others as "verse experience."
Senhor! the soldier's discipline is more than men may learn by mother-fancy guided; Not musing, dreaming, reading what they write; 'tis seeing, doing, fighting; teach to fight." The first six lines contain nothing remarkable, still, they are workmanlike and pleasant to read; but the two concluding lines are atrocious, and almost every stanza has similar blemishes.
Then, lifting his hat and bathing his temples and face, the pedestrian seated himself on the bench, and the dog nestled on the turf at his feet. After a little pause the wayfarer began again, though in a lower and slower tone, to chant his refrain, and proceeded, with abrupt snatches, to link the verse on to another stanza.
Such were the lights and shadows in which history delineates "The starry Galileo with his woes." Childe Harold, canto iv. stanza liv. But, however powerful be their contrasts, they are not unusual in their proportions.
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