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Then weary seems the street parade,
And weary books, and weary trade:

I'm only wishing to go a-fishing,—
For this the month of May was made.

II

I guess the pussy-willows now
Are creeping out on every bough

Along the brook; and robins look
For early worms behind the plow.

The thistle-birds have changed their dun
For yellow coats, to match the sun;
And in the same array of flame
The Dandelion Show's begun.

The flocks of young anemones

Are dancing round the budding trees:
Who can help wishing to go a-fishing
In days as full of joy as these?

III

I think the meadow-lark's clear sound
Leaks upward slowly from the ground,
While on the wing the bluebirds ring
Their wedding-bells to woods around.

The flirting chewink calls his dear
Behind the bush; and very near,

Where water flows, where green grass grows, Song-sparrows gently sing, "Good cheer.»

And best of all, through twilight's calm
The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm:

How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing
In days so sweet with music's balm!

IV

'Tis not a proud desire of mine;

I ask for nothing superfine;

No heavy weight, no salmon great,

To break the record, or my line:

Only an idle little stream,

Whose amber waters softly gleam,

Where I may wade, through woodland shade. And cast the fly, and loaf and dream;

Only a trout or two, to dart

From foaming pools, and try my art:

No more I'm wishing-old-fashioned fishing,

And just a day on Nature's heart.

TENNYSON

From The Builders and Other Poems. Copyright 1897, by Charles Scribner's

FROM

moon,

Sons

ROM the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendors of the [noon, To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune.

Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art;
Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart:

Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart?

Silence here for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail;

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Silence here for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail; Silence here-but far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail!

THE VEERY

From The Builders and Other Poems. Copyright 1897, by Charles Scribner's

Sons

HE moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring,

THE

When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.
So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie:
I longed to hear a simpler strain, the wood-notes of the veery.

The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;
It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;
He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie:
I only know one song more sweet, the vespers of the veery.
In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,
I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure;
The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,—
And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.
But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;
New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ring-
And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,
I fain would hear. before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.

[ing:

GIORGIO VASARI

(1512-1574)

HE contemporary of Michel Angelo, of Raphael, and of Andrea del Sarto, Giorgio Vasari was himself a painter and architect of reputation. His name would however probably be forgotten to-day, were it not for his literary achievement in the 'Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects.' In the sketch of himself which Vasari gives in this work, he tells the story of the book's origin and development, evidently regarding it as a mere incident in a busy and renowned life.

"One evening," he writes,-"one evening among others the conversation fell on the Museum of Giovio, and on the portraits of illustrious men placed there in admirable order and with appropriate inscriptions; when, passing from one thing to another, as is done in conversation, Monsignore Giovio said that he always had felt, and still did feel, a great wish to add to his museum, and to his book of Eulogies' a treatise concerning men who had distinguished themselves in the art of design, from Cimabue down to our own times. He spoke at some length on the subject, giving proof of much knowledge and judgment in matters concerning our arts. It is nevertheless true, that as he was treating only of generalities, and did not enter into the matter very closely, he often made some confusion among the artists cited, changing their names, families, birthplaces, etc., or attributing the work of one to the hand of another; not describing things as they were precisely, but rather treating of them in the mass.

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GIORGIO VASARI

"When Giovio had finished his discourse, the cardinal turning to me said, (What think you, Giorgio,- would not this be a fine work, a noble labor?' 'Admirable, indeed, most illustrious my lord,' replied I: 'provided Giovio be assisted by some one belonging to our calling, who can put things into their right places, and relate them as they have really occurred; and this I say because, although the discourse he has just concluded is admirable, yet he has often made assertions that are not correct, and said one thing for another.' 'Could you not, then,' replied the cardinal, being incited thereunto by Giovio, Caro, Tolomei, and the rest,-'could you not supply him with a summary of

these matters, and with notices of all these artists, their works being arranged in the order of time, whereby you would confer that benefit also on your arts? This, although I knew the undertaking beyond my strength, I was yet willing to attempt, with such power as I possessed, and promised to do it according to the best of my ability."

He continues to tell us that he promptly gathered his material together for this work. He was, indeed, somewhat abundantly supplied with notes, as since his boyhood he had collected for his own recreation what items he could find concerning the great artists. When he presented the summary to Monsignore Giovio, that gentleman was so pleased with the style that he persuaded Vasari to prepare the book himself. Thus it is that Signor Giorgio Vasari won his title to many generations of fame.

He was born in Arezzo in 1512. There as a child he copied the pictures in the churches, encouraged always by his good father, Messer Antonio. When Giorgio was nine years of age, his father took him to pay his respects to their kinsman, Cardinal Silvio Passerini, who was visiting Arezzo. This prelate was much impressed by the boy's familiarity with Virgil and with the rudiments of learning, as well as by his proficiency in drawing. He persuaded Messer Antonio to conduct his son to Florence; and here the boy was placed with Alessandro and Ippolito dei Medici in the study of the classics, and was put to learn design under the great Michel Angelo. Early in life Giorgio Vasari began a career of success. He was an indomitable worker; and during a very brief interval between his days of student life and those of the remunerated artist, he painted assiduously frescoes for the peasantry outside of Arezzo, for the mere sake of the experience to be gained therefrom. On the death of his father, the care of younger brothers and sisters devolved on him; and in order to meet the responsibility, he was forced to practice for a time in Florence the art of the goldsmith. Commissions for painting soon overtook him, however; and despite the astonishing rapidity with which he worked, it was no longer possible for him to fulfill the demands made upon his time. He became the darling of the court; but the precariousness of such a popularity speedily impressed itself upon him. "The promises of this world," he writes, "are for the most part but vain phantoms; to confide in one's self and to become something of worth and value is the best and safest course." His popularity, however, in no way diminished after he ceased to rely upon it as a means of advancement. His personality was such as to inspire affection.

It was largely his quality of friendliness which led him to accomplish so admirably the literary work by which he lives to-day. He was in close personal relations with the artists of his country, and

XXVI-954

one of their own calling. He was always their comrade, never their rival. "Who," exclaims the Padre della Valle, "would not become the friend of Vasari!" He had the power of drawing into sympathy those who were gathered round him: thus it is that in the 'Lives' we feel, not like students ferreting for facts in the careers of great men, but rather as honored guests introduced to a coterie of congenial spirits. The work has not escaped the just charge of inaccuracies, and has been corrected and annotated by Della Valle, Rumohr, Förster, and others. As a critic, however, Vasari has always the spirit of justice, and is usually able to lay aside personal sympathy and to assume dispassionate judgment. His style is pure and ingenuous, relieved by a refined and subdued humor; not infrequently he ascends to elequence,- that somewhat rare eloquence in which one thinks less of rhetoric than of the sentiment expressed, and in which, despite the enthusiasm of the writer, one yet feels that he is not controlled by his subject, but is still master of it.

Vasari died in Florence in 1574, while occupied in painting the cupola of the Duomo. As the tourist reads in his Baedeker to-day that the prophets in the lantern were the last work of Giorgio Vasari, he looks at them curiously, knowing that it was not as a literary critic, but as an artist, that this man expected to go down to posterity. Yet after the passage of three hundred years, his book remains an authority; if not in every particular congenial to the disciples of Ruskin, it yet accords with the prevailing judgment of to-day. himself says of his works that if the future finds no excellence in them, it must yet recognize "an ardent wish to do well, . . . with great and enduring industry, and a true love for these our arts." What greater tribute than this modest assertion can be paid to a work accomplished by a master whom three centuries have pronounced a man of knowledge and intelligence?

He

RAPHAEL SANZIO

From 'Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects'

HE large and liberal hand wherewith Heaven is sometimes pleased to accumulate the infinite riches of its treasures on the head of one sole favorite-showering on him all those rare gifts and graces which are more commonly distributed among a larger number of individuals, and accorded at long intervals of time only—has been clearly exemplified in the wellknown instance of Raphael Sanzio of Urbino.

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