poems there are fewer of these stumbling-blocks; and the reader, who is disposed to admire Landor, but is annoyed by the vigorous freakishness of his prose, has a natural temptation to overestimate his poems. So far I have only spoken of the narrative and occasional poems. There remain two other classes-the odes and poems akin to them in spirit and form-and the dramatic scenes. Of the first of these classes it is not needful to say much. The best work that Landor ever did in that style is to be found in the volume called "The Italics," printed in the year 1848. The poem addressed to St Charles Borromeo, and that on the death of the Brothers Bandieri, are spirited and swift in their motion, as all odes should be; nor do they fall much below the level on which they start. With these may be placed the poem addressed to Tyrannicide. But there are exceptions; when Landor borrows Pindar's wings, he meets too often the fate of Icarus, sets his name to a tedious exercise in verse. Even the Ode to Southey is hardly redeemed by its glorious last stanza: the reader skips most of the prefatory verses to reach the lines— "Not were that submarine Gem-lighted city mine, Wherein my name engraven by thy hand Pour'd forth before my Muse, With Hiero's cars and steeds, and Pindar's lyre The Ode to Wordsworth is in another vein. The earlier stanzas curiously recall the rhythm of Wordsworth's own Ode to Lycoris, and the conclusion of the poem slips into the easy metre Landor uses so skilfully in many of his lighter poems. The Ode to Wordsworth is the pleasantest reading of all Landor's odes, but it is the least like an ode. Landor's earliest attempt at Dramatic writing is, without any doubt, his most successful one. Just as Gebir reads like the first work of an Epic poet, Count Julian seems to promise the world a great tragedian. If Landor's later dramatic works had been more successful, criticism would have had to take a different view of Count Julian, to pass lightly over the defects and praise the merits. It is true, one might have said, that the plot is not well explained to the reader, and that the characters are not clearly expressed. Practice will remedy that. But the mastery of verse and language, and the tragic force of expression, these will remain. It is unfortunately true that it was the evil qualities which remained. Landor's conception of the position of a reader of plays is a curious one. He treats him as though he were a stranger suddenly placed among a group of unknown people moved by unknown passions. He allows him to witness chance episodes in the conflict that is going on, and expects him to construct a theory of the characters and to discover their past and present history. It is a task few readers care to undertake. Few dramas can be more perplexing to the uninstructed reader than the trilogy dealing with the fate of Giovanna of Naples. It is true, that if the reader has the patience to find out for himself the his tory of Giovanna, before he attacks Landor's trilogy, he will find something in it to enjoy, something to admire. But if he first read Count Julian, and then turn to any other of Landor's plays, he will feel that he has passed from the high piercing air of the hills to a lower region not free from thorny entanglements. No one but a great dramatic poet could have written Count Julian; a less man than Landor might have written the remainder of his dramas. Ippolito di Este and the Siege of Ancona are better than the others, but even these show few signs of the exceptional qualities of Count Julian. To the sect of Landorians-for there are Landorians just as there are Wordsworthians-these criticisms may seem irreverent. The writer of them is not far removed from being of that opinion. It is difficult to refuse any wreath to an author whose pages have grown familiar to the eye. Every word that comes from his pen is fresh material for the study of his literary character. In his most trivial writings may lurk the secret of his greatest works. Thus to the student study makes his subject dear, and with the growth of this affection criticism flies. For Landorians, then, these criticisms are irreverEven for others they are incomplete, like all criticism. For criticism can but explain why the critic dislikes a piece of literature; it cannot explain the charm that is possessed by lines like these— ent. Child of a day, thou knowest not The gushing eyes that read thy lot, Or again, And why the wish! the pure and blest Death stands above me, whispering low I know not what into my ear: And so does every great poet refute at the last those who comment on his faults. [In order to save space in the textual notes in these volumes, I have indicated the various sources from which poems have been taken, by letters. The following general bibliography of Landor's poetical works will furnish a key to the letters :— A. The Poems of Walter Savage Landor. London, 1795. A Moral Epistle; respectfully dedicated to Earl Stanhope. London, 1795. B. Gebir, a poem in seven books. London, 1800. D. Poetry by the author of Gebir. London, 1798. Warwick and London, 1802. E. Gebir, a poem in seven books. Oxford, 1803. F. Simonidea. Bath and London, 1806. G. Count Julian, a tragedy. London, 1812. H. Gebir, Count Julian, and other poems. London, 1831. I. Pericles and Aspasia. London, 1836. J. The Pentameron and Pentalogia. London, 1837. K. Ablett's Literary Hours. 1837. A Satire on Satirists, and Admonition to Detractors. London, 1837. L. Andrea of Hungary and Giovanna of Naples. London, 1839. M. Fra Rupert. London, 1841. London, 1846. N. The Works of Walter Savage Landor. 1856. S. Dry Sticks, Fagotted by Walter Savage Landor. Edin burgh, 1858. T. The Hellenics of Walter Savage Landor, &c. Edinburgh, 1859. poems. U. Heroic Idylls, with additional 1863. To the above must be added, "Terry Hogan, an Idyll Bath, 1837 ;" and (perhaps) "The Bath Subscription Ball." "Guy's Porridge Pot," a satire on Dr Parr, which has been sometimes attributed to Walter Savage Landor, should, in all probability, be ascribed to his brother, Robert Eyres Landor.] : |