of the sea-full of perfect rhythm, and full of emotional force, musical resonance and alliteration of which Swinburne was such a master. Next to the sea, he loved the wind. "Sweet are even the mild low notes of wind and sea, but sweeter A Word with the Wind. "A Century of Roundels," 1883, is another example of Swinburne's extraordinary command of words and metre. "Tristram of Lyonesse," 1882, "The Tale of Balen," 1896, and the earlier third series of "Poems and Ballads," all of them notable for their beauty, do not by any means exhaust the list of this prolific writer's works, while his prose alone fills many volumes, including amongst other subjects, "William Blake," 1868, "Essays and Studies," 1875, "A Study of Shakespeare," 1880, and the "Miscellanies." One of the poet's later poems, "A Channel Passage,” 1904, was written in memory of his friends William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones. "The channel that sunders England from shores where never was man born free Was clothed with the likeness and thrilled with the strength and the wrath of a tropic sea As a wild steed ramps in rebellion, and rears till it swerves from a backward fall, The strong ship struggled and reared, and her deck was upright as a sheer cliff's wall." For five years over a quarter of a century, until his death in April, 1909, Swinburne lived at the Pines, Putney, in the company of Theodore Watts-Dunton, himself poet and critic, and known as the author of " Aylwin," a novel dealing with gypsy life. Though to mention living writers is outside the scope we have set ourselves (Mr. Barric and Mr. Crockett having been introduced to make the account of the Kailyard School complete), we feel that we cannot do better than close the record of our glorious inheritance, our English Literature, with a short account of the Imperialist, Rudyard Kipling. Rudyard Kipling's popularity has two sides. He is loved by the elect for his "Jungle Books," his " Kim," and some of his more subtle verses; he is loved by the masses for his soldier stories, his Imperialistic ballads, his catchy rhythms and graphic jargon. Born at Bombay on December 30, 1865, Kipling was sent to England to be educated at the United Services College, Westward Ho ! North Devon, and many years later his schoolboy experiences were depicted in very vivid colours in "Stalky and Co." Returning to India he became a journalist and subeditor at the age of seventeen. His first volume, "Departmental Ditties," was published in 1886, and in the following year he collected some short stories under the title of "Plain Tales from the Hills." His Anglo-Indian stories— "Soldiers Three," "The Story of the Gadsbys," "Under the Deodars" and others—came out in quick succession, and Kipling's undoubted gift for the short-story, his originality, dash, and powers of visualisation, secured his entry into the world of letters. The vigorous "Barrack Room Ballads," 1892, enhanced his fame, which barely wavered throughout the issue of numerous volumes. Among them may be mentioned "Life's Handicap"; "The Light that Failed," a first novel with an underlying note of tragedy; "Many Inventions"; the wonderfully imaginative "Jungle Books," in which the denizens of the wilds speak in a marvellously realistic yet mystical language; and "Kim," of which work one could hardly speak too highly. Besides these, the "Seven Seas," 1896, "Just So Stories," 1902, "The Five Nations," 1903, "Traffics and Discoveries," 1904, and "Actions and Reactions," 1909, are all of them noteworthy. Of single poems, "The Ballad of East and West," "The Recessional," "The Ballad of the Clampherdown," "Mandalay," "M'Andrews Hymn," and the "Lost Legion" are among the finest. So here we come to a close. We have seen what the great men of every age have done for us, in helping us to form a pure and noble ideal of what man may be and do, both in their writings and their lives; but even they are for us but " stepping stones to higher things." We cannot, and we need not, do over again the work of Cædmon, of Chaucer, of Spenser, or of Milton. As Mrs. Browning says: "The past is past, God lives, and lifts His glorious mornings up We hurry onward to extinguish hell With our fresh souls, Maturity of purpose. our younger hope, and God's Die also! And that then our periods Of Life may round themselves to memory And bear our age as far, unlimited |