RECENT VERSE.* Tins is the day of small things in

poetry, and the epic is gone out of fashion. . Few have the courage, the optimism, and the serious trust in the Muse to put their hand to large under- takings.. To be sure,.there is Mr...Charles Doughty; but a

* (1) Drake : an English Epic. Books 1V....XI1. By Alfred Noyes. London : W. Blackwood and Bons, [8s: net.1—(2) The Burden-Bearer : an Epic of Lincoln. By Francis Howard Williams. Philadelphia: Jacobs. [12•50 net.] — (3) The Autumn Garden, By Edmund GOBBe. London : W. Heinemann. f5a. net.]—(4) London Visions. By Laurence Pinyon., London : Elkin Mathews. [2s. (kl. net.]—(5) Selections from the Poems of Lionel Johnson. *Same publisher. [is. not]—(6) The Testament of John Davidson. London : Grant Richards. [3s. Od. net.]—(7) The ilioekers, and other Verses. By Jane Barlow. London George Allen. [26. 6d. net. J—(8) Experiences. By rithuritui Tynan. London : A. H. Pullen. [3s. ed. net.1—(9) Leaves mike Wind. By Elsa Lorraine. Oxford B. H. Blackwell. Pft. ed. net.]—(10) Poems. By Miriam Smith. London : Grant Richards. [26.6d. not.] —(11) A Pilgrim's Calendar. By A. IC Newton. Oxford: at the University Press. [Is. net.] —(12) Vagrant Songs. By L. Nicholson. London: T. Fisher Unwitt. [3s. 0d. net.]—(13) Friendship, By Lilian Street. London: Elkin Mathews. [1s. Itet.]—(14) Whoper I By Frances Wynne. Same publisher. [la. not.]— (15) Nature Poems and Others. By W. H. Davies. Loudon Fined& [Is. net.] • —(10) The Bridge Builders5 and other Poems. By Harrold Johnson. London : D. Nutt. [Is. net.—(11 The Poems of Arthur Christopher Benson. London : John Lane. [5s. net.]— 18) Collected Poems. By Horace Smith. London : Macmillan and Co. [116. . net.]--(19) National Songs and Some Ballads, By Harold Poulton. London : A. Constable and Co. [5s. net.]---(20) Songs from the Garden of Kami. By Laurence Ho'pe. Loudon W. Tieinemsun. [19s. Od. net.] —(21) The Great Fight. By William Henry Drummond. London : G.

rataam's Sons. [5a. net.]

man who offered five pounds to every one who had read The Dawn in Britain would not be greatly Out of pocket. A. young poet who essays the epic form is therefore to be tivated with special respect; if he fails, it is on a high adventure, and his courago is in 'itself a kind 'of success. We congratulate

Mr. • Alfred Noyes on completing his "English Epic." He has been fortunate in his theme, for Drake is the true epic: hero, and his crusade against Spain has the intensity and unity of the true epic subject. The result is a beautiful poem, by far Mr. Noyes's finest achievement, and one which few living writers could have equalled. The level of crafts- manship is high, and there are passages which rank Mr. Noyes among the ablest modern masters of blank verse. He can be exquisite, as in such lines as :—

"The pale princess from some grey wizard's tower Midmost the deep sigh of enchanted woods

Looks for the starry flash of her knight's shield"; or harsh and heroical

Cf Whistle in hand he watched, his boat well ready, His men low-crouched around him, swarthy faces Grim-chinned upon the taffrail, muttering oaths That trampled down the fear i' their bristly throats, While at their sides a dreadful hint of steel Lent stray gleams to the stars."

The description of the storm in Magellan's Straits, of Drake's return to Plymouth, of his seizure of his sweetheart, of the meeting of Drake and Sidney, and, best of all, of the tense hush of England before the Armada came, are pieces of noble drama and high poetry. Having said this, we are bound to add that as an epic the work fails in certain respects. Mr. Noyes has the true afflatus, but it is not the epic inspira- tion. He is always the lyric poet, striving gallantly in a strange medium. (It is curious, by the way, that scareely one of the lyrics is as good as we have been taught, to expect from him.) The work is too much bejewelled and decorated,—a collection of lovely passages without the strong. resistless, epic sweep. The result is that lie is Alexandriau rather than Homeric. It is the incidental beauties which move, not the great argument itself. There are a few minor faults, such as a tendency to qualify most substantives with the possessive case of the name of the Almighty,—" Mr. Kingsley's method of swearing." He is too apt to point obvious historical morals, Its if he wished to make his book a metrical history of the Empire for schools. When all has been said, however, Drake is a flue achievement. We are no longer in doubt about Mr. Noyes. He has proved that he can curb his facility, and use his great gifts within the necessary bounds of art. The other epic on our list, Mr. Williams's The Barden- Bearer, shows none of Mr. Noyes's felicity or rich imagination. It is an excellent and spirited history of the American Civil War, and the verse; though cumbered with many cacophonous American names, is swift and graceful. Mr. Williams is far below Mr. Noyes as a poet, but in some

respects he tells his story better.

It is a pleasure to have a new book of verse from Mr.

Edmund Goose. The modish singer of the " eighties" has not lost his cunning. Conventions in verse have changed, but he has changed with them, and there is nothing " demoded" in his latest songs. He has the gift of close observation, and of expressing its results in delicately jewelled verse. We do not go to him for the high passion of poetry. It is embroidery work that lie gives us, artifice as well as art0

for there is something lifeless and elaborate about it, as of the dead gem rather than the living flower. He is perhaps best in his sonnets,—indeed, it would be hard to find another modern more skilled in this form. His memorial verses contain that nice mixture of regret and meditation which is due to an epitaph, and some of his reflective poems are both finely

phrased and finely conceived, Mr. Gosse in his "autumn garden" has grown philosophical, but he has not lost the optimism of youth. "Monad and Multitude" contains the kind of hope which our day finds most cheering, and the charming "Epilogue" preaches the same modest gospel :—

" I wait, till, down the eastern sky, Muses, like Maenads in a throng, Sweep my decayed traditions by, In startling tones of unknown song.

So, to my days' extremity, May I, in patience infinite, • Attend the beauty that must be, And, though it slay me, welcome it."

Mr. Laurence Binyon's London Visions shows the sae*

scholarship and art as Mr. Gosse's verses, but with a stronger and more original inspiration. He has Henley's gift of seeing London's bidden beauties and contrasts, but be has a classic dignity in his manner, and avoids the bravura note. There are many remarkable poems in this slim volume, notably "Red Night," "A Woman," 'The Escape," the grim verses "To a Derelict," and the ballad of "John Winter." Mr. Binyon is so good, that while we admire, we are unhappy at not admiring more. Perhaps. the reason is a sense of strain in his verses.

labours so meticulously that he fails of the divine ease. Ria pop= are too clearly made, not born. The pure spon- taneity of poetry, in spite of his youthful mimicries, is seen in Lionel Johnson's work, and this little book of " Selections " from his poetry make e us bitterly regret that the world lost so soon a singer so rare. Such a poem as "Winchester" has the essential magic of poetry, the great welling impulse which marries the only word to the one thought. He had the cunning of art, but there is no trace of labour in the product. No lover of poetry will willingly let die such lines as those on " The Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross," or, indeed, any of the pieces of this small collection.

Mr. John Davidson is the most exasperating of living writers. He is a poet, and a fine poet, but he persists in believing that lie can do things for which Providence never fitted him. In his new Testament he is engaged in his usual game of baiting High Heaven. In a long prose dedication "to the Peers Temporal of the United Kingdom" he talks admirable common-sense on current politics,—so admirable that we wish Mr. Davidson would take to political writing. Then come one hundred pages of nightmare, in which, the poet upsets Valhalla and Olympus apparently by talking rhymed popular science to the gods. Most of it is sad nonsense with occasional flashes of poetry. But there is a prologue called "Honeymoon" which is one of the most beautiful love-songs written in our time, and an epilogue which is full of that witching Shakespearean touch of which Mr. Davidson alone nowadays seems to have the secret. Who can keep his temper with this author? A piece of trenchant prose and two noble poems, and between them a wild discourse on a trite copybook materialism There follow on our list a number of 'lyric poets, of whom Miss Jane Barlow is the most distinguished. The Mockers is a collection of Irish ballads and songs, with none of the affectations of the Celtic school, but with a full share of its glamour. "The Mockers" itself, "Supper in the Boreen," and "A Spinner's Dream" are so true in feeling and original in conception that we do not know the modern Irish poet who could equal them. Miss Barlow's verse is so weighted with thought that sometimes it is obscure, but it is the obscurity of depth, not of muddiness. In such a lovely song as "Beyond All Shores and Seas" her mysticism is clarified and simplified so that it has the true lyric appeal. " Katharine Tynan's" Experiences shows the opposite polo of the same inspiration. She is the singer of moods and sentiments, always simple, though often it is the simplicity of artifice. Intricate and beautiful airs are always in her head, and her verses never fail in melody. We like best the first poem, "A Memory," but such an exercise in the antique as "The Garden" is very pleasing and successf al. Miss Elsa Lorraine's Leaves in the Wind contains skilful expres- sions of many moods, but now and then the shadowiness of a mood causes a certain indistinctness in the verse. When her impressions are clearly realised, the verse is delicate and Shapely, as in the two poems beginning "Alt, would to God I were His Ariel," and " This Sabbath eve arises from the Sea." Miss Lorraine's little book is full of promise, and her metrical skill is already remarkable. The same may be said of Miss Miriam Smith's Poems, though the author is sometimes care- less and guilty of Cockney rhymes. A poem such as ' A Moonlight Walk," while deriving much from other singers, is uncommonly perfect both in rhythm and imagery. We com- mend very heartily Mr. A. M. Newton's little book of medita- tion on the Collects, which he has called A Pilgrim's Calendar. The verses for the First Sunday in Advent and for All Saints' Day are as beautiful as they are simple. Miss Nicholson's 'Vagrant Songs suffers from the influence of bad model& She sings of the open road with obvious sincerity, but in words and cadences which have been staled by use. Her lighter 'verse is heavy-footed. At the same time, there is a gusto and Vigour in her work which may yet be turned to better account. Miss Lilian Street's Friendship is a set of graceful exercises upon the theme of the title, full of happy phrases and subtle thoughts. We are glad to have a reprint of the late Mrs. Frances Wynne's Whisper ! for in these simple and joyous verses there is a quality all too rare in modern work. Of the merit of Mr. W. H. Davies's poetry we have written before this. His new book, Nature Poems, is rich in curious and unlooked-for beauties. "A Life's Love" might have been written by Crashaw; many of the pieces have a touch of Blake ; and everywhere there is the Elizabethan love of conceits and quaint detail. To the penetration of a shrewd student of life he joins the optimism of the poet, and such poems as "A Beggar's Life" and "Truly Great" show an idealism closely bound to common humanity. Mr. Davies is unique among modern poets in that he gives us at the same time the flavour of literary art and the salt of first-hand experience. Mr. Harrold Johnson, on the other band, lives in a tempestuous world of words. His Bridge Builders, which is part of an ambitious song-sequence, is a strange medley of the popular man of science and ethical lecturer and the lover of beauty. The second is obscured by the first, and there is a great deal of unpromising second-hand reflection. But the second is there, none the less, if Mr. Johnson would only give him scope.

The remaining books on our list are reprints or collections by well-known writers. We are glad to have Mr. Arthur Christopher Benson's poetry in one complete volume. When he is at his best and simplest there is something very gracious and soothing about his scholarly and assiduous work, and it is pleasant to have old friends such as "Fritillaries," "A Sermon," and the "Song of Sweet Things" within the same beards. Mr. Horace Smith's Collected Poems belongs to an older variant of the same tradition as Mr. Benson's. He resigns "the rhapsody and fire" to others, and is content with the homely moralities. Some of his hymns are fine, ana the book contains some excellent parodies and lighter verse. Mr. Harold Boulten's National Songs and Ballads have already been sung over half the world; but they are worth reprinting apart for the airs. The man who could write "Morag " and the "Lament for Maclean of Ardgour" is more than a mere maker of words for music. We may note an edition of the songs from "Laurence Hope's" Garden of Kama, illustrated with magnificent Indian photographs by Mrs. Eardley Wilmot,—a deserved tribute to a remarkable, if undisciplined, book. Lastly, in The Great Fight we have some additional poems and sketches by the late Dr. W. 11. Drummond, the author of The Voyageur, with a short memoir by his wife. All lovers of that charming interpreter of French-Canadian life will welcome the volume.