་ honour of parody is at least a proof of wide popularity, the only others marked in this way being Mr. Swinburne's Dreamland' and Mr. Lang's 'Primitive Man.' Here, too, in default of a better place, it may be noted that Mr. Henley's Villonism' is not an imitation of the incomprehensible ballades in 'Jargon' or 'Jobelin,' but a paraphrase in thieves' patter of to-day of Villon's Ballade of Good Counsel. It may be that such a medley of themes handled in so many different ways, was never of set purpose grouped side by side before, but is to be hoped that a method in the madness will be found. While conscious of a few noteworthy examples, Rossetti's Translations from Villon to wit, being not included for reasons beyond my control, so it may be that one or two here inserted would have been replaced by later comers, had they not gone to the printer's eternity of stereotype. Started as a collection, but turned perforce to a selection, from the increasing number available, they yet do not aim so much at being a selection of the best work solely, as of the best and least-accessible examples. This explanation of the progress and purpose of the volume is offered in common fairness both to its readers and to those authors who have permitted their works to be included, also to those who by oversight or too late discovery on my part have no examples of their poetry included herein. [Note to page xxxvi.-For Wyatt's Rondeaus, and alteration of the same into Sonnets by Tottel, in his Miscellany, 1557, see Mr. Austin Dobson's Note in the Athenæum, Mar. 23, 1878.1 Ballade en hui'ains d' octosyllabes. Chant de May. En ce beau mois delicieux, Sortez pour servir de pasture Aux troupeaux du plus grand Pasteur: Les servans d'amour furieux Quand vous verrez rire les Cieuz Envoy. Prince, pensez, veu la facture, -CLÉMENT MAROT. WHERE ARE THE PIPES OF PAN? In these prosaic days Of politics and trade, Where seldom fancy lays Her touch on man or maid, Within the busy maze Wherein our feet are stayed, Dry now the poet's bays; Of song-robes disarrayed He hears not now the praise Which erst those won who played Before dull days began And love of song decayed. Where are the Pipes of Pan? Envoy. Prince, all our pleasures fade; And fancy cries dismayed, Where are the Pipes of Pan? OSCAR FAY ADAMS. |