as both are works in which the greatest masters of words and of marble that we know have exhibited the exquisite adaptation of those materials to the single expression of Beauty. Other excellences there are in these works-excellences of truth and nobility, of intellect and passion; and we may note them, even as we must note them in the grander achievement of their creators: even as we may, if we choose, find much to wonder at or to revere in the lives of their creators. But in these things of special dedication we must seek in the first place for the love of Beauty perfectly expressed, or we rebel against their authors' purpose. Who cares now whether Phidias did, or did not, carve the likeness of Pericles and his own amidst the mellay of the Amazons? And who, intent on the exquisite response of Shakespeare's art to the inspiration of Beauty, need care whether his Sonnets were addressed to William Herbert or to another? A riddle will always arrest and tease the attention; but on that very account we cannot pursue the sport of running down the answer, unless we make a sacrifice of all other solace. Had the Sphinx's enigma been less transparent, it must have wrecked the play of Sophocles, for the minds of the audience would have stayed at the outset: much in the manner of trippers to Hampton Court who spend their whole time in the Maze. Above all, must the mind be disencumbered, clean, and plastic, when, like a sensitive plate, it is set to receive the impression of a work of art. But are Shakespeare's Poems works of art ? Can the Venus and Adonis, the Lucrece, and the Sonnets be received together as kindred expressions of the lyrical and elegiac mood? These questions will occur to every one acquainted with the slighting 240 THE POEMS OF SHAKESPEARE allusions of critics to the Narrative Poems, or with the portentous mass of theory and inference which accumulated round the Sonnets. For to find Parems and certain of these Sonnets so received rn back, over three hundred years, to one 242 has these Francis Meres Tamia, a laboured but pleasing of Elizabethan poets and we must tualed with a of Shakespearejas, possessety, Greece, and Rome, w in his Palladis 7, and pre-empf Euphorbus was thoug comparative discou the great ones of Ita the sweete wittie soule to live in Pythagoras, so o Beauty alone. thus: As the soule che rhythmic procession collect the t Ovid lives in mellifluous an of architects, an excellen has had ol of those qua honey-tongued Sha Beauty to the mu: Adonis, his Lu unsatisfied by any s private frien speare, witness his Venus and his sugred sonnets among hi At otrif Shake of Shakespeare may be, and t he Parthenon, insomuch t he says (Hartley Coleridge) that or to comment on the character Ontiment, some isolated longing nearly all have quoted his istic. I followed his example of reviewing the tha whole moorland: the together and insisting on their common chmoorlands in all ages. printed hand in hand (so to speak) and apart the flight of a lonely the Plays. This strange omission did not follo their lyrics: they rather, the accidental outcome of the greater in-poet. Exactly! as I think, on any deliberate judgment: it was terest aroused by the Plays. The Poems were long eclipsed; and critics, even when they turned to them again, were still thinking of the Plays-were rather seeking in the Poet for the man hid in the Playwright than bent on esteeming the loveliness of Shakespeare's lyrical art. For this purpose the Sonnets showed the fairer promise: so the critics have filled shelves with commentaries on them, scarcely glancing at the Venus and the Lucrece: nets 80 red rear Frans oured b lizabetha ece, and E Cuphorbu he sweete Ado and, even in scrutinising the Sonnets, they have been so completely absorbed in the personal problems these suggest as to discuss little except whether or how far they reveal the real life of the man who, in the Plays, has clothed so many imaginary lives with the semblance of reality. The work done in this field has been invaluable on the whole. It impossible to over-praise Mr. Tyler's patience in esearch, or to receive with adequate gratitude the ong labour of Mr. Dowden's love. Yet even Mr. Powden, when he turns from considering Shake honereare's art in the Plays, and would conjure up his ul from the Sonnets, cannot escape the retribution eparable from his task. This probing in the of Pen nets after their author's story is so deeply perAmazons xed an enterprise as to engross the whole energy sponse of them that essay it: so that none bent on digging Beauty, he soil in which they grew has had time to count to William blossoms they put forth. Some even (as Geralways arus) have been altogether blinded by the sweat very a their labour, holding that the 'Sonnets, æsthetidown lly considered, have been over-estimated' (Shakeothespeare, Commentary, 452). He writes much of tr Shakespeare's supposed relation to Southampton ; but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poetry, caret.' Yet we know from Meres and others that Shakespeare impressed his contemporaries, during a great part of his life, not only as the greatest living dramatist, but also as a lyrical poet of the first rank. Thus in 1598 Richard Barnefield, after praising Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton:-1 'And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine 1A Remembrance of some English Poets: Poems in Divers Humors,' printed with separate title-page at the end of The Encomion of Lady allusions of critics to the Narrative Poems, or with the portentous mass of theory and inference which has accumulated round the Sonnets. For to find these poems and certain of these Sonnets so received we must turn back, over three hundred years, to one of Shakespeare's contemporaries. Francis Meres, in his Palladis Tamia, a laboured but pleasing comparative discourse' of Elizabethan poets and the great ones of Italy, Greece, and Rome, wrote thus: As the soule of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras, so the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued Shakespeare, witness his Venus and Adonis, his Lucreece, his sugred sonnets among his private friends.' Meres, therefore, was the first to collect the titles or to comment on the character of Shakespeare's Poems. But although, since 1598, he has had many successors more competent than himself, and though nearly all have quoted his saying, not one has followed his example of reviewing the three works together and insisting on their common characteristic. The Poems, indeed, have but rarely been printed hand in hand (so to speak) and apart from the Plays. This strange omission did not follow, as I think, on any deliberate judgment: it was rather, the accidental outcome of the greater interest aroused by the Plays. The Poems were long eclipsed; and critics, even when they turned to them again, were still thinking of the Plays-were rather seeking in the Poet for the man hid in the Playwright than bent on esteeming the loveliness of Shakespeare's lyrical art. For this purpose the Sonnets showed the fairer promise: so the critics have filled shelves with commentaries on them, scarcely glancing at the Venus and the Lucrece; and, even in scrutinising the Sonnets, they have been so completely absorbed in the personal problems these suggest as to discuss little except whether or how far they reveal the real life of the man who, in the Plays, has clothed so many imaginary lives with the semblance of reality. The work done in this field has been invaluable on the whole. It is impossible to over-praise Mr. Tyler's patience in research, or to receive with adequate gratitude the long labour of Mr. Dowden's love. Yet even Mr. Dowden, when he turns from considering Shakespeare's art in the Plays, and would conjure up his soul from the Sonnets, cannot escape the retribution inseparable from his task. This probing in the Sonnets after their author's story is so deeply perplexed an enterprise as to engross the whole energy of them that essay it: so that none bent on digging up the soil in which they grew has had time to count the blossoms they put forth. Some even (as Gervinus) have been altogether blinded by the sweat of their labour, holding that the 'Sonnets, æsthetically considered, have been over-estimated' (Shakespeare, Commentary, 452). He writes much of Shakespeare's supposed relation to Southampton; but for the elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poetry, caret.' Yet we know from Meres and others that Shakespeare impressed his contemporaries, during a great part of his life, not only as the greatest living dramatist, but also as a lyrical poet of the first rank. Thus in 1598 Richard Barnefield, after praising Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton: -1 'And Shakespeare thou, whose hony-flowing Vaine 1 'A Remembrance of some English Poets: Poems in Divers Humors,' printed with separate title-page at the end of The Encomion of Lady |