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Attila, My Attila!

;

ATTILA, MY ATTILA!

A PLAY BY MICHAEL^IELD,jv!.(A<,ct

LONDON: ELKIN MATHEWS

Ali rigkis rtstrved

PREFACE

Tragedy is the conflict of man wíth the indiíFerence
of nature. For all forces of life sweep on their regene-
ratíng way, and disregard obstruction or break it down ;
yet mortals strive presumptuously to withstand this
ímpetus, and to subject it to their own thought and need.
Then there is a death-struggle, and the humán combatant
disappears, sometimes recognising his schism, sometimes
unconscious of it to the end.

Our interest in each case is due to the very vitality
that a man turns against life when he íights it in vain
with its own weapon, as Prometheus fought Zeus, as
Satan fought Jehovah, as Lear withstood Cordelia, and
Hedda Gabler her own motherhood. What indeed is
necessity but the unfeltering energy of existence to
which evén the strongest and most rebellious of living
creatures must bow, so that the triumph of life, and not
the triumph of death, becomes the proper subject of
all tragedy.

When, in spite of his overthrow, a sinner repents,
and in his contrition worships the power he has with-

PREFACE

stood in its own might, then his tragedy has tonic virtue.
If, on the contrary, he remain impenitent and blind,
his fate prostrates us with terror: yet since there are
such tragedíes it is well sometimes to iace them, and
learn how they came to be so desolate, and why the
sorrow in them has no life.

Little Honoria, whose yielding *' to the impulse of
nature" Gibbon chronicles with such sympathy — a
sympathy pregnant with the feelings of our age that was
to foUow — sought to give freedom to her womanhood
by unwomanly audacities ; and although the importunate
desire to be herself was fair and natural, its perversion
was revenged by the blight with which nature curses.

To be vitally stirred, yet go blindly on the way of

death ; to be urged by nature, and yet outrage her

through very obedience is a tragedy of tragedies, and

one not remote ; for Honoria is the New Woman of the

fifth century : and to any who shall reád her story in

these pages the author says, as clearly as a certain Pro-

logue when it declared —

**• This man with lantem, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine '*

dat this play presents Irony.

M. F,

Te7{S03^S OF TH€ VL^T

Valentinian III
Theodosius II

Satyrus
eugenius

Anthemius

Galla Placidia

Honoria
pulcheria

Arcadia
Marina

Athenais
Marsa

Emperor of the West

Emperor of the East

í An Armenian, Chamberlain to
V Galla Piacidia

1 A young Chamberlain of the
l Palace, waiting on Honoria

í A young Román of Consular
l ránk

(Empress of the West, Valen-
1 tinian's Mother

Valentinian's only Sister

í Empress of the East, Theo-
\ dosius' eldest Sister

jHis younger Sisters

A Greek Girl under Pulcheria's
protection

Anthemius' Wife

A Priest, Chamberlains, Courtiers, Women, Slaves,

Soldiers of the Guard

ScENE — In Acts I, II AND IV, AT Roventia
In Act III AT Byzantium

ACT I

ATTILA, MY ATTILA!

ACT I

ScENE — A room ofstate in the palace at Ravenna^ open-^
ing through a colonnade on to a terrace with a distant view
ofthe harboun

EuGEKius is walking up and down the terrace: he stops

under the boughs ofa pomegranate and picis up a bracelet

front the ground. In the room itself slaves^ somé fair Goths^

somé Africans^ are spreading carpets^ putting up hangings,

and wreathing the columns^

Satyrus enters with more slaves^ who are bringing in tri-
pods; hepoints out where they are to place them^ then fixes
his eyes on Eugenius,

Satyrus The dog, I loathe him I — íingeríng somé toy
He means to give the princess. Insolence
For him to note her birthday !

{Going up to Eugenius) Chamberlain^
Somé gift you would present i

7 B— 2

Attila^ My Atilla I

Eugenius That's my aíFiur.

Satyrus Indeed ! But you mistake : nothing that
touches
My príncess. . . .

Eugenins Mine — Honoria.

Satyrus I say nothing
Touching the honour of my Empress' daughter
Has ever been indifferent to me.

Eugenius {Shrugging his shouUirs) She has her pre-
ferences, and doés not choose
Her mother's Chamberlain for coníidant.

Satyrus {To a Gothic lad) Slave, there must be fresh
garlands ; wreathe those pillars.

( In the same voice to Eugenius) Give me that bracelet !

Eugenius Shall we come to blows !
You fool, you think I do not know my place I
This is the príncess' bracelet ; I am waiting
To give ít back to her : that prívilege
Surely belongs to me, her Chamberlain.
I must reprove her for her carelessness
In leaving it about.

{He hoUs it up proooiingfy before Satyrus)

Satyrus {Sharply) You know the news ?

Eugenius Why naturally there is nothing you
Can teli me, holding office similar
To mine, except somé tattle of the court.

Satyrus I beg your pardon, I am higher up
The scale than you — Placidia's officer,

Attila^ My Attila I

And able therefore to announce her pleasure
To you as to the court.

[CUse to htm and speaking so that the slaves do

not hear)
Our pretty princess
To-day is made Augusta.
Eugenitts What a íarce !

Satyrus Her tnother is in earnest, and commands
The servants to remember that this title
Removes the princess from all intimate
Connection with them. Do not use reproof.
Why, you have dropped the bangle.

{He moves down the room) Fritigern —
Now Pluto catch you, rascal !

{He buffets a sktve^oy who has knocked over a tripod)
Eugenius Were she dead
I should be nearer to her I

Satyrus {Corning up to hint again) Chamberlain,
I must instruct you : absolute prostration,
You know, before Augusta.

Eugenius {Between his teeth) Damn your eyes I
Satyrus You never must address herj but in silence.
And with your lids kept on the ground . . .

{Enter Honoria, dressed very simply in white ;
Eugenius looks up at her with ajlash of

admiration)
Honoria Dcar hearts,
How grave you look, somé point of etiquette

Attila, My Attila /

Knitting your brows I On whom will you confer
The place of honour at my feast to-night ?
Meanv^hile I am síxteen.

Satyrus And such a beauty,
Venus is doubtless pouting. (To Bugenius) Chamberlain,
Our biesséd princess should have kept her room
Till summoned by her mother to rcceive
The state's congratulations on her birthday.

Honoria But no one greeted me. I sat alone
So long ; and then I heard the slaves at work
UnrolHng the big tapestries — the bustle
Of steps attracted me, and here I am !
Now set me on that throne and talk to me.
Eugenius, help I

Satyrus [Pushing htm baci) Eugenius must attend
To these instructions.

{He holds out a roll of parchment. EuGEKius impa^
tiéntly takes and reads it as he goes out. One by
one the slaves leavey havtng finished their pre^
parations)

You must be content,
My sweet chick of an empress, with my homage,
Just for the present ; more wiU follow soon —
The perfect homage of the stifFened back
And lowered eye and more than stifFened tongue.

Honoria O Satyrus, but that is very sad :
I haté formalities so much — the banquet,
The stupid faces, all those serious men,

Attiia^ My Attila !

Who might cheer death a little if bis guests,
But do Jiot interest me. How sweet a silk
They have hung up to canopy that chair !
Satyrus Your chair.
Honoria Then I am glad I am sixteen.
Satyrus But hear my ceunsel : you must be demure
Now you are growing older.

Honoria How delicious
When growing older means that every day
One is a little nearer to one's youth ;
A little nearer — oh, I can be solemn ! —
A little nearer to the grave, but then
What grave ? The grave of one's own wretched child-

hood,
With all the pedagogues and punishments
That make it hatefiil. Who would be a child ?
The only honest thing that children do
Is to cry out with ragé when they are whipt ;
They nevcr wander where they have a mind,
They never eat or drink what they are fond of,
And they are always hearing of their fiiults.
It is so dolefíil.

Satyrus, what right
Had you to send Eugenius away 7
He is my Chamberlain.

Satyrus {Not hefding) Princess, your mother
Is planning for you on this festival
An unexpected pleasure.

Attih, Mf Attih I

Honoria Scarcely that —
No pleasure that a parent plans can be
An unexpected pleasure^ for one knows
So well beforehand what they think wUl please :
A solid benefit, an empty honour.
More purses in the treasuiy, but notbing,
Nüthing to spend to-day the waj we liké.
And then xaj mother is so dismaL

Satyrus {In an alarmed whisper) Hush,
She enters with her train*

(Galla Placidia advancesy esctrted by seviral tnutes
and other attendants. Honoria ncnves her
mother with the deepest revereate^ remaining
prostrate tiU she is on the thr$ne)

Piacidia But how is thís,
That 70U are here, unsummoned ? Satyi
And on thís day ! It is a grave ofience.

Honoria Mother, it was no iault of his«

Placidia {To Satyrus) Dismissal
Will follow on a second breach of rule.
An eunuch, and not versed in etiqaette —
What else is there to interest you ?

Satyrus So much !
Empress, your sorrows and your cares.

Placidia Wellsaidl
I was unjust. Honoria, you are weeping,
And why, you foolish girl ?

Honoria It is my birthday,

Attila, láy Attila !

And, mother, I am waitíng ibr a kiss.

Piacidia [To Satyrus andthe others) Withdraw a Kttle !
{They go intő the corridors at the side ofthe room and
Satyrus waits by the door ofthe audience-chamber
to the right)
Now embrace me, child !

Honoria I cannot. I sbould wet your robes wtth tears.
Let me go back intő my room again ;
I have displeasjed you.

Piacidia Do not be so headstrong !
Come here, Honoria ; you are now sixteen,
Alid I must talk with you.

Honoria No, do not, mother!
But there is something that I really want
To talk with you about, if you will listen • . •

{Twisting herfingers)
For just a little while. I am too fríghtened
To speak of it to Marsa.

Piacidia Wcll, what is it ?

Honoria I cannot evén teli you • • . I am happy,
Yet so intensely wretched. Is it wrong
To feel liké this ?

Piacidia Quite proper to reserve
This confidence for me.

Honoria (In a low^ eager voicé) Then teli me all !
It seems somé god that I am worshipping.
And do not know his name. Night after night
I have been liké Európa on the sea

Attila, Mf Attila !

In spray and storm and utter loneliness,

Savé for the sense that I was borne along

Riding in perfect safety — and the peril

Was so delicious, for I steered my course

Ríght through the waves. Mother, in every dream

It was the same.

Piacidia What pagan fancies — ^hush !
Your nurse must be reproved for teliing tales
Liké this one of Európa. I can see
You have been too much with inferíors —
They are not to be trusted. Fram to-day
You will be my companion.

Honoria {In a high voice) Everywhere ?

Piacidia Child, do not shriek liké that-^your íather's
habit,
But very vulgar.

Honoria {Irritably) If he did not please you,
Why did you choose my íather ?

Piacidia You suppose
That in my second marríage I had choice ?
My childless brother gave me to Constantius,
His Román generál — and I have lived
As women must to please my íámily.

Honoria And not to please yourself? Yet nurse declares
When you were taken prisoner by the Goths
In girlhood, you had lovers — ^two at once.
I want to be a captive and have lovers,
Two at a time, and freely choose at last

Attila^ My Attila I

The great, barbartc fellow as you chose.
Adolphus was a hero !

Piacidia He was king
Before I would consent to many him,
King of the Goths • . . and yct I will not feign,
I loved him, loved hím dearly.

Honoria (Caressing her mother) I forgive
Your coldness to my father.

Piacidia {Smilingy as she returns Hottoria^s caress)

A románcé
Holds you at once ! But did you hear the end ?
I would not speak of it except to savé
My daughter from the foUy of desiring
A captive's miseries. My hero feli
At Barcelona by a traitor's hands ;
I waS'Once more a prisoner, but this time
I was not wooed or flattered, I was set
To march on foot twelve miles before the horse
Of the assassin. Ali you know of me
Dates from that day.

Honoria {Mon passionately caressing her) O mother,
this is cruel.
And I so pity you • . •

Piacidia {Holding Honoria* s handandlookingoutfixedly)

I had a son
By that íirst marriage. I have let the pást
Be pást ; but in his little, silver coffin
My life is buried. Do not speak to me,

Attilüj My Attila I

But keep my hands, I liké to feel joat íingers««-
How soft !

You see, there must not be románcé,
Child, ín jrour life.

Honoria I do not see it sa

Piacidia I want to savé you from how many thtngs
That I have borne, that I would rather die
Than bear again.

Honoria But let me bear them once !

Piacidia I would prolong your youth and . . .

{Enter Valentinian)

Honoria Valentinian,
Stolen from his tutor ! Why, how sweet of him !

Piacidia But very premature, Congratulations
Must not be oíFered yet.

Honoria Brother and sist^
Must have one kiss. {8 hé gmbraces htm)

Piacidia {To Honoria) There is a great surprise
In preparation for you ; such an honoiu*
As you are scarcely fitted to receivc —
At least in this poor raiment — that you could hot
Have dreamed, it is so wonderful.

Honoria {Shaking her head) Oh, nothing
Can be more wonderful than what I dream.
Val, are you in the secret ?

Valentinian In thc plot-—
Whew ! I could teli you * • .

Piacidia {^ngrify) Valentinian !

Attila, My Attila I

{In a perempt^ry t^ne to Honoria) Dress !
Marsa has full instructions. Keep your room
Until I summon you.

Honoria {Going) What can it be ?

{She leaves the room^ Satyrus Uftíng the curtainfor

her to pass)

Piacidia Now> Valentinian^ you must understand
The meaning of my action of to-day,
And not defeat itfoolishiy. I live,
As you must, for the glory of our house^
The Theodosian House : Honoria too
Must live for it, Think of the great ^xample
Her cotisin gives her in Byzantium !
Pulcheria^ the Augusta, keeps herself
A virgin that her brother may continue
Sole emperor in the East, as in the West
It is my will you should be sole Augustus.
A son-in-law shall never share your throne ;
Yet no one less than emperor may espouse
The daughter of our sacred íkmily.

Valentinian A proud distinction !

Piacidia She must think it is,
And will, if you are wíse.

{To Satyrus^ who apprőoches at a signfinm bis mistress)

O SatyruB,
Is she not looking pretty ? AU my life
I have been planning how to give her pleasure;
But she is liké her father. When I stoc^ed

Attila, My Attila I

To give Constantius the imperial title

He held it síxteen months, and all that time . . .

Satyrus Yes, madám, he kept falling oíF to sleep,
And lost in flesh, . . .

Piacidia {To Valentinian^ xvbo is slinking off) No,
Valentinian, stay,
It will be well for you to hear the story,
To know your &ther's miserable end.
And learn what to avoid.

Satyrus Young gentleman,
Back to your place — 2, little to the ríght.
Your &ther was a soldier, and was fond
Of drink, and dice, and swearing : in the purple
He found that he had nothing left to do,
And simply died.

{Earmstlyy as he turns to Piacidia) Madám, if I may
speak,
Our little princess is as fresh and hearty
As {Bowing) your laté consort ; if we cut her ofF
From every pleasure, we shall lose her too.

Valentinian Why shoidd you trouble, mother, with
the girl ?
I will take care she does not spoil my life.

Piacidia I would not have her wed, evén for lőve,
If that were possible.

Satyrus Indeed, what future
Would you determine for her ?

Piacidia Nőne at all ;

Attila^ My Attila l

Comíbrt is never with futurity*
Oh, you are far too solenin, all of you*
I want light-hearted children. . . • Nothing deep,
No prying intő mysteries ! The young
Should let US take the tragic {}arts in life,
Us who are older.
{Turning severaüy to Valentinian^ Satyrus^and Eugeniusy
who has entered and stands a little apart)

If you all combine
To show Honoria how biest she is
In being made Augusta we are safe.

Valentinian But she will learn the truth«

Piacidia Concerning life
A woman will believe what she is told,
If she is told it soon enough.

Satyrus Oh then,
Since there's no help, we all will do her honour,
Poor, little princess, to her heart's content,

Valentinian I'U say I wish I had been bom a gírl.
What sport !

Piacidia {To Eugenius) Eugenius, you have had in-*
structions ?
Though you are young, you will retain your o£Slce ;
You are correct in conduct, and your manners
Formai and full of deference. There will be
But little need of change in your behaviour
Towards the Augusta. Simply emphasise
Her distance from all ordinary life \

Jittila^ My Attila /

Tr.eat ber with adoratíon, we may hope
She will become a goddess» Summon her.

{^Extt Eugenius)
Good Satyrus, why do you look so grim ?

Satyrus Because that fellow has your conüdence,
And can deceive you with his smírks and bows.
If I were in his place —

Placidia {Smiling) You would do harm,
And make my child a rebel. No contention !
You must support me at this crisis. See,

[Re-enter Honoria with Eugenius^ Marsa^ and a

train ofgirls)
There is a stormy pout upon her lip,
Her iather's pout

Satyrus Thcy enter Hke two lovcrs ;
He takes her hand.

Piacidia She is not keeping step,
That is the reason ; now he gives the form
Of salutation.

Satyrus Whíspering in her ear !

{Honoria brea^s awayfrom Eugenius ^ and stands

Jhrward proudly)

Honoria But, dear ones, I have seen you all before :
I can do nothing for a second time ;
And now I have put on my birthday^dress
My thoughts are of myself. What can you say
Or do to please me, and, above all things, ^ ^
What is this wonderful, mysterious gift?

Attila, My Attila I

Piacidia I üke your carríage. Daughter^ aá: yourself
What best would minister to your ambitíon,
Being the grand-child of so great an emperor
As Theodosius. What ?

Honoria To have my will
Liké him.

Piacidia What is your will ?

Henoria I cannot say,
It stretches out so far.

Piacidia Youth has no answer
To any questíon : therefore Destiny
Summons with beckoning íinger and no spcech.
She summoned Theodosius from his exile
Among the sheep at Cauca, and to-day
She beckons you^ his grand-child, to become
A crowned Augusta.

Húnoria This is wonderful :

{Lool^ng rapidly at the circU)
And should be joyous, but you all have fiices
As after tidings of somé great defeat.

Satyrus It is the shock of putting on new manners**
We must not treat you as a little puss
Her very slaves are free to banter with,
But . . .

Homria What ? You cannot change me in a minute^
And I must have somé fun !

Piacidia You are an empress.

Honorta But while you live— and there is Valentinian ;

17 c

Attila^ My Attüa 1

I cannot understand.

{Valentinian laughs)

Piacidia You will be free
From all the cares of state, íree to enjoy
Your dignities.

Honoria But what am I to do ?

Piacidia The question of a slave ! Still less to do
The higher up one reaches, and at last,
On the throne, nothing.

Satyrus That is perfect bliss.

Honoria Nothing to do !

Piacidia But so much to observe.
You will be present when ambassadors
Return, and smile at them when they depart :
You will accept rich gifts and will be envied—
That is a woman's goal — be envied, dear,
By other women.

Honoria While I envy them,
Unless you all are jesting.

Valentinian I'U begin
To show we are in earnest.

{Kneeling) Sacred one,
I swear to treat you as divinity
Whatever you command.

Honoria O Valentinian,
Dear boy, you must not mock me. It is cruel
To-day when I am serious.

{Petulantly) I refuse

Attila^ My Attila!

To be Augusta.

VaUtttinian {Nadáing ta Placiáia) As I told yoti, mother.

(73 Homria) But this has all bcen scttled by the suté
Without your iDtcrvention : women's business
Has to be settled so.

Hanoria {Flaihtng out) I would not marry
An emperor at your biddiitg.

Kalentinian (Ciapping his hands) ■ Excellent.
O you green giri, you think I want a fellow
To share my throne ! Why, you are oiade Augusta
To keep you aiways inaccessible
To any suitor — generál, count, or king }
Not onc of thcm shall plague you — me^ I mean.

Placidia Hush, Valentinian, wben a girl becomes
A woman, it is usual fbr her mother
To speak to her of life.

Hanoria (Patsionaufy) Then you must teli me
What Valentinian meant.

Piacidia Not here ... in priváté.

Honaria He said you only call mc by this title
To keep away my suitors. Is it so ?
Was that his meaning ?

VaUntinian {Daggidly) Yes.

Plaeidia Be dutifiil.
And hold your peace.

Hanoria He can be silent now.
But am I not to lőve ?

Plaeidia You are appointed

Attila^ My Attila !

To be the very guardian of thc West,
As saintly and in conduct as austere
«»s • • •

Honoria You l I never could resemble you,
Not if I wished.

Phcidia No, as Pulchería, child,
Your cousín in the East.

Honoria {With Urrified tyes) But she's a n|un.

Plaadia There you n^istake : sbe simply does not marry
Because in all the world there is no suitor
Whom she could wed without humiliation
Or weakening of the empire.

Honoria All the ^me—

Valentinian She is a virgin.

Honoria Do you think she wishes
Not to be marríed ?

Piacidia She was made Augusta
At the same age as you, and ever since
Has kept her maiden-vow,

Honoria She felt üke that.
I do not ! I would rather drop down dead
Than live on liké my cousin.

(With a gesture of despairing appeal) Mother, you—
This cannot be your doom ! There is no way
Of blessing any humán life except
One bless it at the source. You poison mine !
I should have been content with very little^
A birthday kiss, and then, had you been kind—

Attila, My Attila J

But you are making winter now forever,
With just a word, betváxt us. From my hcart
So much is gone already of the lőve
That was íept waiting for you. Bring ít back ;
Remove this curse from me !

Piacidia Chíld, it is wisdom
To bear what íate appoints.

H^mria (Drawing back with a stunneáj uncertain
mcvement^ and leaning on the arm őf Eugenius)
If it were fatc

It would be easy to endure her tortures :
This misery is something that you choose
To settle on me. It is íate to lőve,
You cannot altér that — fate to be young
For just a little whilc. What is your hopc ?
You cannot change my nature with the burthen
Of your mock title.

Piacidia If I married you,
You could not say you would not be a wife r
You are Augusta — there is no dispute.
I boré you for the purple, I provide
AH that your blood requires ; and presently —
I can be patient — I shall see you grow
Keserved and haughty and so beautiful
Knowing you are a goddess ; on the coins
You will be graven, and your name inscribed
As Salus Reipublica, Respond
To the great future I have wrought for you,

Attila^ My Attila !

And let me pass down to my grave content.

Honoria (Loosing her grasp of Eugenius and advancing

toward her mother)
So thís is your proposal : I become
The símple consolation of your age
By having no experience of my own,
No life unlinked from the starved end of yours,
No dreams I dream until they come to pass^
No taste of what I covet, no response !
But what must be must be : the old shall learn
The terror of that maxim. What must be
Must be^ if youth decrees it. You may order
My name graved on the coins and make your idol
Of any clay that mixes. . . .

Piacidia In three hours
You will receive the formai recognition
Of your new honour.

(She turns to gOy then says to Satyrusy who is hurriedly
lifting the curtain at the door)
Gently, Satyrus,
The girl must be rebuked.

{To Honoria) When you are old
You will not waste your time in prophecy ;
You will be in possession of events,
And silently dispose them to your will.
(Exit with Valentinian^ SatyruSy and train. Honoria^
with a wave of her handy dismisses her women. Then^
turning to Marsa^ puts her arms round her neck}

Attila^ My Attila !

Honoria O Marsa, I have had one birthday-gift ;
But have you nothing for me, nothíng reál ?
I am not changed, but you are not yourselves.
I think that I shall die or else go mad
If you desert me, and become my servants.
Can you not speak to me ?

Marsa We all, dear princess,
Have gifts 5 their presentatíon is reserved.

Honoria Why then, no thanks at all.

(Eugenius goes out quietly)
There is a question —
But first, you are my friend ?

Marsa You doubt it, dear ?

Honoria Then teli me, Marsa, you who arc a wife,
What is it I am missing ?

Marsa Oh, I cannot !
There is no modesty in such discourse.
And Juno shuts our lips.

Honoria {Turning away) Then wc are strangers,
The girl and wife, and never can be friends—

( In afrenzied voice) Unless, índeed, somé mighty con-
queror
Should take. me captive. Ah, how glorious
If such a thing could be ! If Attila
Could lay siege to Ravenna !

Marsa Are you mad ?

Honoria {Continuing) And bear me oíFand take me.to
the tents,

The filthy teats your hushai^. shudders at.
I should oot be afraid.

Marsa You do not know
What you arc talking of.

Honoria {fFith a defiant smiU) Bttt I can gueis.
There would not be a wedding and a mother^
But the free air and the great Tartar Chietl
We should make terms ! I should be capable.
But, as you say, it is too wild a hope«^
Ravenna is impregnaUe.

Marsa {íFith pity) Dear princess !

{Eugenius has hau standing hy tht do9r with a hmcb
offresh roses im kis haná^ Hworia at last peraives
him)
Hmoriü What have you there, Eugenius l
Eugenius {Knuling) Very humbly
I pray for leave to offer you these roses
As my poor present.

{Raising bis eyes) Lady, all the years
You live will be most happy to the subjects
You lőve or stoop to honour : to younielf
May they be sweet I

{She lifts a hranch and smeüs the roteSy smiHng at

Eugenius)
Hőnoria That is a wish— your roses
Are sweet now, as you oíFer them, how sweet I
Why, they are all I have. I never held them
Loose in my hands liké this : I touched them only

Attiía^ My Attila!

When I was drínkíng) or in wreaths ór crowns
As the Augusta should. But I can pluck theni)
Can blow the stiff buds open íf I choose,
And crush them in my íingers.

Mmrsa Chamberlain,
It Í8 not Is^nd oí you to bring your gift^-^
And out of form as well.

Eugeniüs But fbr the ftiture,
Trust me, good Marsa, I shaH sérve my mtstress
As one somé day to mingle with the gods,
When once she takes upon her the hew state
For which we are preparing. I must go— ^
{Tú HMóría) But íirst your pardon.
Honoria I am fond of flowers.

{He g$is qukkly intő the ánte^-rőom, Honoria phys
with thejhwers in stlence)
Marsa ( ^reaking the silence) If I could sce you mar-
ried — by and by ;
Say to somé subject king.

Honoria A subject king
My husband — then i

Marsa Oh^ you would understand
If you were married.

Honoria To somé subject king ?

Marsa Yes, evén then, for you would bé a bride.

Honoria And is that everything ?

Marsa I think it is.

Honéria Ah, now you teli me all I need to know !

Attila^ My Attila 1

Marsa And when at last the hope of motherhood . .

Honoria Hush, you are ríght ! We cannot speak of
this—
You are so far beyond me. Kiss me, Marsa !
Again, again ! {*They kiss) Now Icave me to myself.

(Exit Marsa)
{Honoria holds the roses high up above her)
A young man's gift ! He gave them with his eyes
As well as with his hands : their odour pierces ;
They shíne with youth and water-drops and silver ;
Their flush goes through me.

If there were no need
To learn the secrets of my womanhood
From matrons and from mothers ; if this way
The roses take to open to the sun
And to enjoy were right ! I am beginning
To think all life is simple and we want
No masters in it, if we will but live.
Only the courage seems impiety
^ For just a girl to dare to be herself.

The dear, old gods were great enough to know
All that we have to give, all that we sufiér :
I wish that I had lived in pagan timcs !
But evén now will not youth answer youth ?
This is so bold a course that I should üke
To pray before I go on it : yet all
The Church has taught me seems to slip away.

{She goes towards the ante-room and calls) Eugenius !

Attila^ My Attila !

Eugentus {Sweeping thecurtain bac^as he runsforward)
What, the voice of my most dear,
My most adored, young mistress !

Honoria Most adored — «

How ? In what way ?

Eugentus Sweet lady, I am come
Fresh from your mother and she teaches mc
That henceforth I must serve you with the honour
We give to what is infinitely high,
Apart and sovereign.

Honoria Ah, and not the honour
You give to any woman whom you lovc ?

Eugentus Princess, not that : we lőve and would attain j
When we adore it is impossible
To hunger fpr possession.

Honoria (Turning and looking out over the terrace) Therc
is nothing
In all that sunny earth that is adored ;
Each thing is loved. Oh, I am envious I
They treat me as a part of yonder world
Where Grod and all His saints are overhead ;
While really I am just a maiden-girl
Who would be loved, who would not be left out
By April, who . . .

{She suddenly kisses him)

Eugenius [Repulsing her) Is this your majesty ?
I will not bear your tortures ! IF I do
My part, do yours : be distant and official.

Attila, My Attila !

Honoria Oh, tiiis is terrible ! Is Lőve a Count
Of the Domesticsy somé great personage
High in esteem ? I am so ignorant,
I thoűght Lőve was a god.

Eugenius You are not such
A child but you can put men on the rack,
Bríng them to banishment and ...

Honoria {With defiani eagerness) Was Evander
Sent to the Chersonese because of me í

Eugenius How your cjres sparkle ? Yes, because you
plagued him.
And kept him at your heels, he had to go.
Andj my iair mistress, there are other men —

Honoria So many!

Eugenius You cajole.

Honoria {Tossing her bead) Whom I admire.

Eugenius I know — that beast M etellus ?

Honoria Yes.

Eugenins And then
Julián and Sextus, either at a pinch.

Honoria Yes, you are right.

Eugenius And the ambassadors.

Honoria Oh, they amuse me.

Eugenius But you lőve that fool,
Your brother*s friend, young Paulus.

Honoria {Taiing up Eugenius^ roseSy smelling theniy and
boking at him/romjust abovethe bunch) Do yoíi
think

Attila^ My Attila!

Young Paulus lov^ xne ? Has he ever said ?
Now, dear Eugenius, teli me ?

Euginius He has said
He would not have you for Rome's ríchest province.
Honoria (Tossing the roses away) How hateful of him I
But Evander perhaps
Was of a diíFerent mood ?

Eugenius Yes, he adored you ;
I know it as a fact you broke his heart.

Honoria And he is in the Chersonese— how sad !
And yet I envy him. It must be gloomy
On those wild shores \ but, íf he Teally loves,
The time will pass by quickly. Happy thought 1
I am Augusta — ^he shall be recalled*

Eugenius {In vibrating tones) Is that worth while i
Honoria (Haughtify) Yes, for so gr^t a gift.
Eugenius You lőve him then ?
Honoria I cannot teli before !
It brings a burning rapture to my body
To think of him.

Eugenius {Violently clasping her in his anns\ Then I
will take his place.
These are an exile's kisses^ these and theae 1
That fellow at the Euxine — I have stood
In banishment beside you cvery day,
A madness in my heart to spread this fire
Across your cheeks, your breast, to hdd your lips
Thus helpless to my pleasure.

Attila, My Attila 1

[Laughing) 1 will have
A more voluptuous memory to soothe
My exile than that wretched courtier.
Now kíss me I

Honoria {Drawing baci) Do you boast ?
Eugenius A little while
To dream I am your equal, that this hair
Is mine, and I may push it from your neck
AU back and then —
Honoria (Restraining him by a caress) Your hair is bright

enough,
Much liké Apollo's.

{Sttting berselffree) Do not speak so fiercely,
Or dream of boasting, for that wounds me. What !
You can be thinking of another hour
When you will brag of this one ! Do not touch me
As if without my leave.

Eugenius {Bitterly) Oh, I expected
That this would follow : you would recoUect
I am your Chamberlain.

Honoria And not my lover !
Oh then, begone !

That I should ever kiss my Chamberlain,
I, the Augusta I I must die of shame.

{She turns away angrily as sbe hears his derisive
hugb. There is absoluU silence : then be gives a
shivering moan. She turns bacJ( and speal(s in a
changed voice)

Attila^ My Attila !

Eugenius, when you facard the flutes last night
I sat and watched jaa. It was wonderful
How all the prímness passcd out of jo\a iace :
What were you thinlcing of í

Euginius Oh, not the flutes !
Honoria, sweet, you madden me.

Hmoria Again
That soft, large frccdom fills your eyes. Foi^et
Ali but the music.

{Laying her kand on his arm) You havc leamt my
name.

{They embrace)

ACT II

Attila, My Attila !

ScENE— The lame út Act I, Somé montht later,

HoHOKlA ('; sitting on the raistd seat^ her hands clatped
rauná ihe bacl^ ofher heaá. She seems te be in reverie

and smilts to herself. The cartain on the ieft ts dratun
aside; Eugenius enters and approaches ker.

Eugtnius Augusta, the ambassador dcsircs
An audicncc, if your Icisurc . . .

Honoria You would say
Anthcmius is starting — bring hím in,
You foolish boy, and do nat look so formai.
Eugtnius But, dearest, be discreet.
Honaria (Clouding) Behind my chair,
I shall forget your prcscnce.

Eugenius ipens ihe curtain and admiís AnthemiVS
and Marsa ,- then^ having introduced them^ he
leans against the wall behind Honoria's seaty
lőol^ng suUen and anxious)
Marsa too !

35 B~2

Attila, My Attila I

Marsa Lady, my husband comes to say farewell.

Honoria Again, and very soon. [To Anthemius) You
must be sorry
To leave your new-born child.

Anthemius My little daughter !
Yes, but I leave her with the dearest guardian
Whom I regret still more*

Honoria I understand.
It must be hard to part ; but, darling Marsa,
You need not look so sad, an embassy
Does not mean bloodshed.

Marsa It may mean detention
Among the Scythian waggons.

Honoria Oh, what fun.
And what adventure ! How I lőve to hear
Of the black hordes. (Turning sharply round to Eugenius)

You know, Eugenius,
They bellow liké wild beasts, their countless drums
Keep echó ringing, and their cavalry . . .

Eugenius Faugh, princess, these are scarcely fairy-
tales
For an imperial ear.

Honoria {Haughtily) Oh, you think that !
We like strong contrasts, and it interests us
To hear about the bowl of ivy-wood
Our hero drinks from, and his simple faré,

Marsa Princess, pf flesh — raw flesh.

Anthemius Or cooked between

Attila, My Attila !

The thigh and saddle.

Eugenius An imperial taste
Calls that simplicity !

Honoria A Chamberlain
Is not the fitiing censurer of kings.

Eugenius You think the gulf between too deep ?

Honoria I do.
Shall we in silken chambers judge a captain
Who never leaves his saddle, rides and rides
From Caucasus to the Armorian Field.
It is so ignorant.

Eugenius And wonderful
A lady cares to champion a wretch
Who never changes anything he wears
Until it drops away, who eats his meat
As jackals do, whose face is horrible.

Honoria Eugenius, peace ! Our envoy owns the Hun,
Wlien moimted on his wiry steed, a presence
To pause before, admiring. If we dared,
If we had courage to encounter him,
What batdes would be waged, for he is great
And free as a wood-centaur.

Anihemius Shall I take him,
Augusta, youT detiance ?

Honoria (Laugfiing) No, my feith
He is not what the soldiers he inspires
With such basc terror paint him. Say, Augusta
Counts him a hero and a hunter-devil,

(

Attila, My Attila !

And laughs at his adventures.

Anthemius I must go.

Marsa {Advancing to embrace him) FarewelL

Anthemius Oh, you will come a little further ?

Marsa {Shai^ing her head and glancing toward Eugenius)
My place is with the princess.

Honoria Marsa, go !
We must not leave the fethers of our children^
Not till we must. Go with him to the cradle,
Then with him to the door, and, if you will,
Take him aboard, and watch the vessél out
From the long wharf at Classis. It is calm,
Yet breezy too — tl most delicious day.

Anthemius And you a goddess. Vale !
[Exeunt Anthemius and Marsa • Eugenius lets the
curiain fali behind them and comes back quickly
to Honoria)

Honoria I, a goddess !
No, but at last a woman, very woman,
With not a touch of miracle about me,
Except, except . . . for surely you can guess
Why I am kind to Marsa ? O dear lőve.
And you too will not be what you have been,
Mere man, you too will have another name,
You too —

Eugenius My God, I feared that this would come ?

{He turns away)

Honoria What ! You can stand and look out at the sea

Attila, My Attila!

As if that flying sail wcre of account,
Whcn I have brcathed my secret in your ear.
And promised you such honour \

Eugtniut {Facing her coldly) Honour ! — Death.

Honoria Impossible ! But can you think of that
Now f Why, Eugenius, I havc hcard that mothers
Die vcry often when their babcs are born.
What if they do ! I ncvcr had a fear,
Nor any of my people j we are all
Free-born, accustomed to vicissitude,
And take a change of fortune as the changei
Of wind or weather : you must be the same.

Eugenius Why should I ? You have aiways treated
me
As an inferior \ you will treat my child, ,

Out of your pride, as an inferior too.
You iovc me t — but I never shall forget
The dífFerent voice with which you ^)cak to counts
And generals, the way you let me feel
I stand behind them, and your little laugh
When I draw back : thesc things have injured me .
Liké drops of burning oil upon my skin
One after one — what hell I And I have nothing
To put against them but a single hour
Of mastery you gave Ín ignorance,
In wantonness, and then . . .

Honeria You must be mad !
Oh, you have disappointed me — the name&

Attila y My Attila I

That you have given to this lőve of míne,
Simply because it was conferredon you !
You called it an intrigue.

Eugenius And so it is.

Honoria You said you should regret it,

Eugenius {With a despairing gesture) Well, I do.

Honoria Oh why ? I am Augusta, at my will
Able to give protection. For a time
My mother may be angry ; but she loved
AH of herself, liké me, when she was young j
And then my fáther was not of her ránk,
We shall be wedded j you will be received
Augustus here, and someday in the East :
For very shortly I shall take your hand,
And say that you are mine, and claim the future.

Eugenius O damn the future ! Do you call this
lőve ?
Why thrust me forward ? I am not your bridegroom,
I never can be ; leave me out of count,
If you regard my safety. Teli your mother
Of your condition, but of nothing else.
And she will see you through. {He turns to leave her)

Honoria You cast me off ?
That will be very lonely.

Eugenius {Returning) If you take it
Liké that, and if it costs you anything
To know we shall be severed all our lives . . .
But you have made me play with life and death

Attila, My Atilla I

As with the rattling dice-box.

Honoria Ifi thought,
Dear lőve, that any harm could come to you . . .

Eugenius Oh, you are such a child ! But there is
nothing
That you can do can altér my delight
In you, in every motion, every glancé,
The way you turn your head, your very anger.

[He caresses her)

Honoria (Returning his caress) Then put away your
fears, for I am certain,
As if a god had sworn it, you are safe.
Come, be yourself again, just what you were
That April day.

Eugenius Ah, would it might be so —
You just the same !

Honoria {Angrily) It is a sacrilege
To wish that, and an insult. I am sorry
You give my news nó welcome, but it matters
Less than I could have thought.

(As ifaddressing a Servant) See that my couch
Has warmer wraps upon it, for I liké
To lie out in the sunshine. I am going
To peep at Marsa's baby, and to nurse it
If it is crying for her.

{She goes toward the door^ glances back at Eugenius^
breaks intő laughter^ and returns to him)
Do not look

Attila^ My Attila I

So wretched ! Oh these men, how strange they are !
How brief and poor their happiness, while ours
Grows with US, liké a summer, night and day.
And day and night.

{She kisses htm while Satyrus draws baci the curtains
ofthe door^ unperceived)

There, I forgive you freely.

Eugenius Hush ! Somé one comes.

{He leaves her and stands at a distancey looking out
toward the harhmr^ indifferently* Enter Satyrus)

Honoria ( Turning) You want me, Satyrus ?
A message from my mother ?

Satyrus No, Augusta.
I want youT Chamberlain.

Honoria And there he is,
Watching Anthemius' vessd.

But this scowl . . •
I am quite glad I am not the oíFender.
You are the only person in the world
It grieves me to offend.

Satyrus Dear, little lady,
As you the only one I cannot thwart.

Honoria I know ; we spoil each other. I believe
You rather would connive at anything
Than own your little princess in a fault.
Now would you not ? You are so much my friend.

Satyrus As &ithful as the dúst is to your feet,
For only you yourself can shake me oíL

._ J

Attila y My Attila I

Wheré are your women ?

Honoria Marsa is away ;
I sent her with her husband.

Satyrus Pooh ! Your service
Should be her first concern.

Honoria But I dismissed her.

Satyrus As I dismiss you to Eurynome,
Your nurse, you little scapegrace ! You will bring us
Poor fellows to the headsman. Bid her call
The retinue your mother has appointed
To wait on you, the mutes and all the slaves —
The wornen-slzves^ remember ! Now be good.

{Exit Honoria y playfully halfthrust through the dow
by Satyrus^ who walks up, as soon as she is gone^
to Eugenius)

Eugenius What do you want ?

Satyrus I am a messenger.

Eugenius Well, I am quite attentive.

Satyrus Very so —
But soon you will be, for the Empress sends
To bid you wait her coming in this room ;
And I am not to leave you.

Eugenius (Shortly) This is strange.

Satyrus I thought it strange, but I obey her will.
I thought it strange she ordered me to watch
The princess and report how she preserved
Her dignity ; but listen, Chamberlain,
I do not any longer think it strange.

Attila, My Attila I

Eugenius Why ?

Satyrus I have seen her stoop.

Eugenius What have you seen ?

Satyrus She kissed you, dog !

Eugenius She did not.

Satyrus Yes, she did.
I saw her from the passage. Have you thought
How cven a kiss could ruin her ?

Eugenius Indeed
You would be less than man if you should teli
Ofmy—

Satyrus O leave your iníamy alone !
I know your secret : women do not kiss
Liké that a stranger to their arms. You tremble ;
Yes, and your handsome blood has left your íace.
You look but half a man, or scarcely one
At all — though you have stained her.

Eugenius It is íalse.

Satyrus I do not need your lies to make me sure :
By those white lips it is too evident
I speak the truth.

Eugenius Betray what you have seen 5
That's all you can betray : but I am lost
With that . . . the Empress is so terrible.

Satyrus If you are lost, then you will lose yourself ;
I shall not harm you by a single word.

Eugenius You will not ?

Satyrus No . . . or rather by my silence

Attila, My Attila !

I shall protect Augusta. As for you,

I should be glad to march you to the gate,

And hand you to an executioner.

The Empress has not told me why she wishes

To speak with you, but from her face I judge

She comes about this business. Keep your wits,

And listen ! She will try to find the man —

But must not iind him ; it would wound to death

The honour of Augusta : if a child

Is born, much better ít be &therless

Than íathered on a servant. Let opínion

Give it to somé great Count — you understand ?

Eugenius Yes. * When the Empress questions —

Satyrus You deny ;
I simply hold my tongue. Ah, here she comes.

{Enter Galla Piacidia)

Piacidia Eugenius !

Eugenius Madám ?

Piacidia I am here to speak
On a most solemn matter, delicate,
Concerning the imperial honour, deeply
Touching my own ... for I have heard report
The princess is with child. Her nurse believes
The scandal j I have watched her constantly,
And I am almost sure it is not falsé.
What do you think ? You are her Chamberlain j
Have you the least ground for believing it ?
Answer !

Attilay My Attila I

Eugenius {In a low voice) I have not.

Piacidia Have you, Satyrus ?
By my command you watched her.

Satyrus No, I have not.
She often talked and j ested íirst with this
And then with that great noble. She is free,
And showers her smiles and graceful, little questions
On all her courtiers.

Piacidia You adhere to this ?

Satyrus I do. I cannot fix on any one
She seemed to fevour most.

Piacidia {To Eugenius) And you, it seems,
Suspected nothing ? You are rather backward,
I fency, in your protest.

Eugenius I am ? — No.

Piacidia Well, Satyrus, Eugenius, I have vowed
By every means to search this treason out,
By every means; I will give lavishly :
And, if you are afraid to speak the truth,
You, Satyrus, or youj gold and my favour
Should make you fearless.

Satyrus The reward is great,
But I have nothing I can give for it.
No evidence, not evén the least surmise
To offer for your treasure.

Eugenius Nor have I.

Piacidia Further, Eugenius, if you have received
A bribe from the seducer, I extend

Attila, My Attila !

My pardon to you if you give his name.

Eugenius I.cannot . . , but —

Satyrus {^ickly) We neither of us know.

Piacidia {To Eugenius) I hold you, as Augusta*s
Chamberlain,
Responsible for thís calamity ,
Unless you track the wretch, who dared dishonour
The princess in your charge, my will is fixed :
You will be questioned under sharpest torture,
And if that iails to move you, then your life
Will pay the penalty of your neglect.

Eugenius Torture !

Piacidia You alsó, Satyrus, will suffer
The same examination and same end
Unless the work I trusted you to do
Is done efficiently.

Satyrus But death and torment
Are useless as your gold, for I have nothing
I can reveal — as yet.

Piacidia So fíne a bloodhound
As you will track the victim.

(Eugenius watches him breathlessly)

Satyrus Who can teli !
But if I do not — then I know my fate.

Piacidia Yes* (Tö Eugenius) It is alsó yours. You
reálisé —
Torture and then the executioner
Out at the western gate : but torture first.

Attila, My Attila !

Eugenius O Empress, Empress, if I am to find
The man who has so angered you, at least
Give me conditions I can offer him —
Can ofFer anyone I might suspect —
To win him to avowal, for your mercy . - .

Satyrus I will not offer mercy in my search.
Empress, forbid such trifling ; keep the law.

Piacidia I do not care if mercy or the law
Find me the girl's seducer.

Eugenius Then, I hope,
You deign to give conditions ?

Piacidia Yes, his life,
If he will make avowal — his bare life :
Not an escape from punishment«

Satyrus Such grace
Is scarcely worth a thought.

Eugenius You will not torture ?

Piacidia We use that to extort confession, not
As punishment.

Eugenius Oh then, I need not seek :
The man is here.

Piacidia You ?

Eugenius {Falling on his j(nees) I am he.

Placidiá {Movingfar backfrom him) My daughter
Could give herself to him, a caitiff-slave !
Yet from the first I never had a doubt ;
I saw her profanation in his face,
And I determined I would make his tongue

Attila, My Attila !

Own what hís &ce revealed, or, if I could not,
Would force you, honest Satyrus, to íind
Occasion for convicting him» I knew
You were his mortal enemy ; and yet
You could not see his guilt I

Satyrus It took your wisdom
To íind hím out ; although his vile conditions
Made me suspect at last.

Piacidia If I but wielded
The might to strike him dead !

Satyrus But he is safe ;
You were too clement.

Piacidia Yet his wish to live
Will prove his worst calamity.

Satyrus {yoyously) It will !
What shall you do with him ?

Piacidia Dismiss him first
For somé trumped-up dishonesty, somé stealing
Of revenue : that done, he shall be scourged
With the iron-knotted lash they use for slaves^
And banished to the Aquilegian mines.
So, he has saved his life.

{Re^-enter Honoria^ with Valentinian and Marsa)

Honoria {7o Marsa) You watched the vessél ? —
Eugenius, what has happened ?

[From the moment he confessed he has heen kneeUng^
his bead bowed ffuer his arms. At Honoriá*s
voice he hoks up ; then bows his head again

49 «

Attila, My Attila !

and líijf hw at first, iut niith intreasing
pattion)
Piacidia You arc here
In rimc to see the partner of your guilt
Sunk in humiliation. Look at him —
The servant you intrigued with !

(JIdarsa maiét an inttinctivi navttmnt tfbsrrtr from
Hmorid'i tide)
Honoria (Lmi to ker) Not by me !
Go yonder to my mother.

Valentinian Do you mean
That slave upon hís Icnees has ínjured her ?
Beast \ (He goet vioUntly taward Sugeniut)

Honoria Valentinian, you are not his judge :
You are not üt to judge us.

Piaciba I am judge,
And thts your rightfiit place. Come here, my son.

{She points te her rigfit hand and sfeakt to him ai he
joins her)
Honoria {Dejiantly waliing up to Eugeniut and putting
her handt on hit neck)
Eugenius, rise ! It is not in this way
Our lőve should be declared. A criminal,
When you should be a lever ! Sidc by side
We should have fircd my mother to remcmber
How in her days of youth shc found the sweetness
Of breathing was to lőve ; then, by my lather,
Implored her to forgct you were not royal :

Attila, My Attila !

Büt you have given away your fete and minc
By this behaviour, and to hear you weep
Is blasphemy. O stop !

Piacidia You shall not speak,
Girl, of my lőve for one who was a hero,
An honourable wooer j I forbíd
Yöur ikther's honest name to pass your lips.
As for that man — take ofF your hands from him !
His doom is settled,

Honoria I too am Augusta ;
My title can protect him.

FaUntinian You Augusta !
You look sublime in contact with that worm —
A goddess, worship her !

Piacidia This childish folly
Must end. The wretch is sentenced.

Honoria If you iliean
The title you conferred on me is enrpty
As now you make it, then I must beseech
At least a hearing from the true Augusta.
I gave myself j my lover never spoke
His lőve, or sought to win me. This is truth—
Yes, by my very lineage ; and in justice
I ask his life.

Piacidia You need not. It was granted
As price of his confession.

Satyrus He betrayed you
For that — his life.

51 E — 2

Attila^ My Attila !

Honoria {Tai^ing away hét hands from Eugenius* mck
and shrinl^ng baci) Eugenius, 70U could do it 1
I must have dreamt about you, and I wake
To find . . . O Satyrus !

{Eugenius sobs more bitterly)

Valentinian A rich reward
For trusting an informer.

Piacidia You are sorry
At last and own your sin ?

Honoria I am not sorry.
No, I am glad I meet you as a woman,
I meet you as a mother* Shall I own
A sin, when nothing but the purest impulse
Of nature called, with that deliciousness
That we are born to foUow, and I went
With peace and utter íaith where I was led I
That is not sin. But now there is a crime
Indeed, for which I burn. It cannot make
The change in me a mockery, but, oh,
It mocks at lőve, at everything I did,
At innocence and honour.

{Eugenius springs up and comes ioward her^ but not
near)

Eugenius Do not think
I, your vile servant, did not give you lőve,
Although I have betrayed it. Deeper br
Than any treason is the truth Iloved;
It is my only truth, just as the leper*s

Attila^ My Attila !

One truth- — ^he once was well.

Honoria You have your life.
Why do you speak to me when there is nothing
That I can do for you ?

Eugenius ( IVith a cry) Princess, your pardon !
Honoria {Her face averted) Nothing that I can do.
If we discover
The gold coin we have used as gold is false,
Is counterfeit, there is no talk of pardon :
Gold is too precious, Do not plead again !
You make me gasp for breath.

Eugenius But turn your fece !
Think of the years that I shall famish for you,
Shut in those awful mines among the slaves.

Honoria I am not hard — if it can give you pleasure —

(4^^^ turns and looks at him)
Eugenius O ecstasy ! {He seizes her hands) To
hold thes^ íirQi, warm hands
Ágain — one instant I Kiss me 1

Falentinian Infamous I
Take that, you dog I

{He strikes him in the face acrsss hismouth. Eugenius
staggers an instant, then standsy with clench d
handsy as if waiting)
Piacidia Son, you debase yourself
Evén by touching him. Call in the guard.
Remember, he is charged with larceny.

(Eugenius breaks int9 a short laugb and glances defianily

Attila^ My Attila f

at Placidia^ buty meeting Honoria^s eyes^ bows bis
head and continues still waiting)
Honoria {Mechanically taking up her mother*s words)
— Call in the guard ! {Going to her mother) And now

my punishment.
{Raising her hands to her temples) Or have I borne it

all i It must be pást,
I think, already.

Piacidia It is not begun,
But soon will be in force. You will be sent,
When possible, to Theodosius* court,
And placed among your cousins in their house,
Where they devote their virgin days to prayer,
Their needle and their studies. As attendant,
I place you in the charge of Satyrus,
Parting from his true service for the sake
Of your complete security. Meanwhile
You will be strictly kept within your room
Till somé few months are passed.

Honoria You look so cold,
So dead I O mother, this is horrible :
You íill me with alarm lest • • •

Piacidia Come away \
The guard will soon be here, and I insist.

Honoria (Piteously) Marsa, come too I — And Satyrus

will come 1
[Suddenly^ with a sharp^ frightened cry^falling on her
^neesy and clasping her hands)

Attila^ My Attila !

O mother^ by the little, silver coffin

In which your life is buried — savé my child !

{Eugenius makes a movement toward her^ tb^n lets his
arms/allj and goes on waiting)

ACT III

(

ACT III

Attila y My Attilái

ACT III

ScENE — The library of the royal palace at Byzantium.
Several steps lead up to a central apse^ surrounded by windows
that command the walls^ and beyond that^ a view of the
Scytbian tents,

Tewards the centre of the room there is a table on which
rolls ofparchment and colours usedfor illuminating are laid,

Pulcheria^ dressed as a nun^ and Satyrus.

Pulcheria You know I am intensely fond of her.

Satyrus I do believe you lőve her.

Pulcheria As my life.

Satyrus Yet all these bittér years what have I $een,
What have I had to see ? A líttle íigure,
Thin, mournful— eyes in which the light was glazed,
And íingers busy with the broidery-frame
They loathed the touch of. She is not a creature
To thrive on barley-cakes and cold commands :
SO) I beseech you, pardon her at once !
What was her críme ? She talked with Maximin
One day when he returned firom embassy

Attila, My Attila !

To Attila, beyond the gates : and, think !
How natural that she should thirst for news
Of this strange conqueror she used to worship
As if the land of £úry gave hím birth.
It is a week since you imprísoned her :
If she should die . • . .

Pulcheria I teli you, Satyrus,
That there is nothing with a blessíng in it
I would not pluck down on her head, no flower,
Or starry wreath, or secret, favouríng air.
Die !^-do you think that I could let her die,
Who is the one live creature in our midst,
Who might become what I shall never be,
A saint, a power with God ; so rich a nature,
Such Román courage, and a power to light
Whole empires as the sun ! If you speak truth,
If I indeed have killed her —

Satyrus No ; take heart \
Lies are enough to bring one to despair,
They so perplex the mind ; but truth has aiwajrs
A kind of comfort in it : you have time
To savé my little mistress. Give her freedom
To eat and sleep and play just as she pleases,
And leave all things she ought to do undone —
For that is so delightfid I have known it
Restore a raving madman to his wits.

Pulcheria But I have such high hope of her.

Satyrus Oh, then

Attila^ My Attila !

My counsel must be foUowed ! Let your hope
Be as a hope the weather will be íine ;
But do not force her : in your noble zeal
You need not treat her as a common slave.
I saw your sister strike her in the face
A week ago— it was an ugly sight !

Pulcheria You saw that with your eyes ?

Then no more justice,
No struggle to be fair — ^thc eddying sway
And current of my passión*

Lead her in I
{Exit Satyrus)
And now I will be deaf to all their voices,
And simply feast on her. She will despise me ;
There are somé deeds I would not have her witness
For all the world that shortly must be done ;
And yet through this free pardon • . • but no matter !
Although she brings me to a tingling sense
Of misery, although I dread her comment
As if it were God's comment on my sóul,
I cannot live without her.

{Re-enter Satyrus^ with Honoria in the dress of a navice)

Oh, her fiice 1

Honoria Cousin Pulcheria, have you had a dream.
And is it in obedience to a vision
You suddenly unlock my prison doors ?

Pulcheria Dearest, a yearning for your face.

Honoria My women

Attila^ My Attila!

Teli me my hair is gray — I do not know—
But it may interest you to see the change !

( She thraws baci her hood)
For I am now returned from discipline
So much more than a penitent, a power,
Strong as a hermit from the rocks. At last
I have a kingdom where you cannot come,
And beat the bliss right out of me, at last
I have escaped you. In this dull, weak world
I feel the pressure of a sovereign force
Outside me and within. You ate and slept
While I was starved and waking — oh, I thank you !
I have had revelation. Do not ask me
What I have seen !

{Turning to Satyrus) Somé wine, a little fruit !

{Exit Satyrus)

Pulcheria {tating Honoriá^s hand) Opcn your heart
to me !

Honoria If you mean kindness —

Pulcheria A mother's kindness.

Honoria Leave me to myself.

{She closes her eyes, Pulcheria goes out^ as if banished^
just as Satyrus returns with wine and fruit)
If I could get more strength !
{Stroking the hand of Satyrus^ as he offers the fruit) This

wrinkled hand
Telis me I am not yet in Paradise,
Although quite sure of it. You would lay down

Attila^ My Attita I

Your life to sérve me, would you not ?

Satyrus My life —
Truly a perfect offering ! It is yours.

Honoria O Satyrus, they think Pm growing old,
But really I have had quite time enough
Through these long, fourteen years of misery
To grow both old and young again. The spring
Must come again ínto one's life somé day —
And it has been such winter I Fourteen years !
Not exile ! — I should liké to be so much,
Much further off from anyone who owns me,
Or who has ever called me by my name.
You have no relatives ?

{Satyrus shakes his head)
How fortunate !
If earth were free of them and one might start
Quite fresh among the strangers, making íHends
Just as one could ! Sometimes I seem to breathe
Where a new country steals across my senses
As softly as the summer. Fourteen years !
And what have I been doing all the while ?
Nothing at all, oh, nothing ! — until lőve
Came and encamped around my life as round
This city the black tents of Attila.
Lőve !

Satyrus But, dear mistress, you have been forbidden
To have a second lover.

Honoria {HeedUss) Far away,

Attila, My Attila !

And where Time vras not, I was in the arms
Of a great hero — ytry fire of lőve
The breath and the embrace !

Satyrus How pitiful !
I know this kind of dream and how it haunts ;
It has no root in possibility.
I wish you had not dreamed a dream liké that.

Honoria But do not be so listless ; you must help
To bríng it all to pass. I count on you.
Who else is there to help me ?

Satyrus Be explicit,
My darling princess, if you have commands.

Homria Most certainly I have. It is so simple
To execute when one has dreamed the whole.
These people fussing round me do not dream;
They have their faith, and hope^ and prayer, and not
The whole strong web before them. All is fixed,
And we have just to move intő our places,
I and —

Satyrus Your hero ?

Honoria My deliverer.

Satyrus At least his name ?

Honoria No, guess it, Satyrus.

Satyrus Somé name they give a cloud !

Honoria A thunder-cloud.
Who is it that is mixed up with our thoughts
So that the air is charged with him ; who is it
That is not east nor west, but has an empire

Attila j My Attila !

That rcaches to the borders of the world ?

Satyrus The Church has that.

Honoria Who is it that can hold
The Church in awe, to whom the Popé himself
Bows down ? Oh, you are stupid ! — Attila,
My Attila !

I never have been mated,
I have a souí to give that is Augusta,
That cannot stoop. While the barbarian women
Contend around his tents, I have decreed
His passión shall be drawn across the borders
To me, I have received his salutation.
O Attila, my Attila ! — the dreams
That he is dreaming of me ! If the dead
Can walk to those they lőve, and force their senses
To sight and hearing, shall my great desire
Fail on its way to him ? It does not &iL
We are betrothed in secret, and my life
Flows to fíilfilment of these prophecies
As simply as a river to the sea.
The rest is easy. You must bear a ring . . «

Satyrus The deuce I must !

Honoria And he will claim his bride
The soldier's &shion. This will come to pass.
The world is his ; he scarcely needs to íight,
He conquers by sheer willing : so I purpose
To win my place beside him in the world—
My Attila !

65 1

AttUa, My Attila !

Satyrus Bkit I wouM rather see you
Tortured before my cyes. I will not go.
It is an iníámy I Think of your land,
Your mother, your —

Honoria My land has been a prisoi^
My mother is the murderess of my child,
My lover was — a traitor. I desire
Nothing but retríbution on them all.
When the storm bursts

Let me be in the thunder-doud ! You pause • • .
O (aithftil, are you faithless when my need
Is so extrémé. Why, why will you not go ?

Satyrus His instincts and his habits, his religion,
His language ! — ^íaugh I It is impossiUe
To lovc a stranger you have never seen.

Honoria I never saw my child : but he is minc
For ever, and I lőve him day and night ;
He makes my thoughts about the universe
More soft, and I have freedom in my blood
Because he was created. Then you know
The story of the sóul and how it loves
Blindfolded its dear £ros. Take the ring 1

{Satyrus siUntly rejuses andwalks away to a little distance)
You are afraid ?

Satyrus {Tuming) I am.

Honoria {Contemptuously) I thought at least
You still had courage.

Satyrus Do not say such things ;

Attila, My Attila !

You ncver oncc have said thcm — Oh, thfe taunt ! —
Do not, Augusta !

Honoria I am desperate :
I cannot of myself fulíil my passión,
I cannot reach the freedom I desire,
I cannot carry suíFeríng to its end« « . .

[Falling down befire him)

Satyrus, I will not spare you now !
Can you condemn me, you^ to hdplessness,
To life that is not íailure, but a blank ?

Satyrus I have but one temptation left — despair.
God, do not wake it !

Honoria It is here with me —
AH that might come to pass if I were able
,To live my life, and all the odious, long
And fettered way to death because I cannot :
For you have waked despaír. Oh, how I haté
Your cruelty ; it sweeps me üke a tempest,
It rouses in me wrath and desperation,
Lightning and ice together — horribie I

1 am a wreck through you, {She sobs in frantic misery :

then of a suddtn faces him defiantly) But do not

think
I shall not iind a bearer for my ring \
If you refuse me, I will choose somé other,
No trusted servan t, but a shifty slave,
And risk that other's treason.

Satyrus [JVitb terror in hisfacé) No, you shall not,

67 F — 2

Attila, My Attila !

While I can sérve you. If it makes you happy
Just to die wretched in a miry hut
Amid the iiith and clatter, fetch your ring.
And I will bear it. This design of yours
Has one or two good points of policy. • • .

Honoria Why wcre you stubborn, why did you inflict
Such sorrow on us both ? Forgive my cry
Against your harshness, O forgive, fiarget —

Satyrus {IFitb a sadsmiU) And do your wiU 1 Therc
is a fearfiil strength
Beneath these silken temples. Lose no time.

Honoria Therc is the ring.

Satyrus But teli me on which hand
Do you propose to fix the magic tokén ?

Honoria {Putting the ring on Satyrus^s rigbt bánd)
On this, on this ! Say that I give him all
With this, my feith^ my honour, and my lőve*
Say that I worship him {Kissing the ring on Satyrus* s
finger).

Satyrus So I have won
A kiss at last.

Honoria Say I am older now —

Satyrus Yes, aftcr fourteen years you have received
That grace of time.

Honoria And am not covetous
Of youth or beauty —

Satyrus Why, I have gray hairs ...

Honoria But full of admiration for great deeds,

Attila, My Attila !

Valour and strength. Say that I feel within

A greatness to wed greatness. Something answers

Deep in my nature to that energy

That makes a waste place of an obstacle.

Say that I fear him.

Satyrus That is ably put,
Fear him and yet desire.

Honoria It is a challenge,
For, if he loves me, Attila must come
And claim me with an army.

Satyrus And your dower ?
He will be keen on that.

Honoria Oh, half the kingdom,
AU that his sword can win« You need not speak
To him of dowry.

Satyrus Well, your eyes are bright.
Most starry, preternatural. You have
That way of shining like a goddess through
Your flesh when you are happy : that is why
I like to give you pleasure. Recollect
On my return you must not run to greet me
As if I were a messenger from Zeus ;
But cast a pensive glancé at me, and say
/ trust the boly John is well in bealth —
For I must seem to come from conference
With the great hermit who confesses you.

Honoria Oh, run as if you were a messenger
In very earnest. Speed !

Attila^ My Attila !

{Exit Satyrus) How happiness
Will aiways be just ín a paír of rings,
The giving and the taking, nothing more !
I wonder — will he send me back hís own.
And what will be the posy ? . . . Just perhaps
An irón hoop, and I shall miss the art ;
No matter, if it comés from him and is
As strong and simple as his character :
I shall not trouble. Oh, how glad I am,
And young again to-day. I used to think —
But then I was a little fool, sixteen —
That I must beg for lőve upon my knees,
Instead of loving, breaking intő bloom
Myself, and feeling all the crush of flowers.

{jÍs she leans from a windowj Theodosius comes in
with Arcadia and Marina, both dressed as nuns.
He goes up to his painting-table^ while his sisters
sit dofvn at a great embroidery^/rame)

Theodosius You, little cousin, are you here alone ?
I met your eunuch ; he avoided me.
Where was he going ?

Honoria Simply from my presence.
I had dismissed him. Let me see your painting.
Dear Theodosius, you are happy now
Among your missals —

[As she comes from the window toward him Pulcheria*s
voice is heard outside)

Pulcheria Is the Empcror here ?

Attila^ My Attila !

{Honoria draws hack again tnto the window^recesSj ana
Theodosius begins to painU PuUheria enters hur-
riedly, without noücing Honoria : sbe looks scorn-
Jiilly at Theodosius^ and tosses somé rolls ofparchment
on the table)
Then, Theodosius, you are ignorant
Of my instructions to the envoys ?

Theodosius {Carelessfy) Yes.
How well these scarlet stems run up and down,
A net-work on the blue ! I call this page
My masterpiece.

Pukheria Indeed ! But let it be,
And give me your attention. In your name
I sent the three ambassadors with gold . ^ .

Theodosius Good !

PuUheria With a donative — ^you understand ?
A subsidy.

Theodosius Oh good I

Pukheria You do not mind ?

Arcadia Well, anything is bettcr than the scnsc
Of savages all round.

Marina This Attila
Infests the very air.

PuUheria He casts a shadow,
I know, a great, black shadow on our thoughts.
But yet to send him bribes . . .

Honoria {Jt the window) O horrible !
{PuUheria shudders; then paces hackward and forward)

Attila^ My Attila !

MűTtná When dtd the envoys start ?

Pulcheria This vcrjr hour.

Honoria The cnvoyB at kis camp . • •

{Under ber breatV) Whik Satyrus-^
{^Sht advances impetuously)
Rec^l them I Is it possible the grandchild
Of Theodosíus can corrupt a foe ?

Pukberia {Twming) Honoria, my wretched people
starve
For miles beyond the gates. Reaaon attd píty
Ürge me to sheathe the sword.
Arcadia And you imagine
Our gifts and flatteríes wíU iail to win
A welcome from the greed of Attila !

Honoria Send after thoee cursed messengers ! I
warn you—
And I to-day am full of prophecies
That sweep liké storms across my sóul ; I see
The universe as in a crystal gkss— *
Avoid this shamefui meeting : it will draw
Wide ruin on us all ! I am inspired
To know that this is right and must be done.

{She nurues to tbe door)
Arcadia {Scorn/ully) Wélly do not rush out in the
Street with orders ;
Summon your Chamberlain*

Honoria {As sbe turns back witb drooping hands, and
despair on herface) It is too laté • • .

Attiia, My Attila !

(Passionately) Before mj child was born I saw tfae.eyes
Of murderers round my bed : it is the same
Now, it will be the same throughout my life. .
AH humán creatures round me want to kill
My hopes and my ambitions.

Pulcheria Ali but one,
A woman, pitted against Attila.

Honoria If I could make you fed how great a power
He is to touch the spring of as a helm —
How he will laugh to see the Román gold,
For he is no mean, despicable fee
To palter with, but one of those great souls
With whom great souls must dwell in amity.
But there ! I cannot help you : you have bríbed hím,
Are sending him ambassadors — ^the shame I

Pulcheria Yes, Román money and not Román swords
To drive the devil oflF ! Oh, how I suffer —
Two nuns, a painter, and myself a weak,
Peace-loving woman, to repel the Hun !

Theodosius You are Augusta !

Pulcheria Ah, I am — in name.

Honoria You bríng the blood ínto my ghostly title*
In name I — but I am in reaiity :

{Ásidiy as sbe tums to tbt window) I am • . . Those
envoys !

Pulcheria Nothing comes to pass
That I desire ; I have no íbrce to rule.
[Turning fiercilf on Theodosius) You will have nőne.

Attila, My Attila !

Theodosius I own no genius
For politics.

Pulchiria No sense of your great place,
The awful power it gives you.

{She comes to him^ strikes the brush out of his hand and
opens one oftbe roUs of parchment beforr htm)

Reád this paper
You signed without a scruple yesterday.

Theodosius {Glancing at it) Pulcheria ! I signed it. O

my God 1
Pulcheria Yes, you condemned to death that fair
Greek maidén,
Who fled to me, an orphan, from the slights
And avarice of her brothers, Athenais.
I had this order laid among the rest i
You signed each one unread. Go through them now.
We leave you to your thoughts.

{She goes out with Arcadia and Marina)
Theodosius My misery !
How could I do it ? Athenais — lőve !

{He tears the death^warrant across^ pushes the other
parchments away^ and hides his face in his hands,
Honoria rushes down and puts her arms round him)
Honoria O Theodosius, I am just liké you !
I understand — ^you cannot reád the edicts,
For there is only one thing in the world,
Dear fellow, that you care for, but one name.
You are in love.c

74.

Attila, My Attila !

Thiodosius Beyond all remedy,
And in despair.

Honoria But lőve should give a strength.
It is because we disbelieve in lőve
We get so thwarted ; for Time stoops to catch
Our lovers' whispers — in futurity
He plants them as a seed. Do not despair ;
I have a hundred reasons to despair ;
I will not.

Theodosius But you must not turn away
Now you have learnt the truth. Ask me somé questions !
My mistress is so perfect.

Honoria You have seen her,
The lady that you dote on.

Theodosius Why, of course.

( He shows a page of illumination)
This face, these tresses in their golden plaits . . •
You recognise ?

Honoria How lovely ! Teli me more,

Theodosius But there can be no more. She is not royal ;
The child of a philosopher.

Honoria I thought
Your líp was trembling, oh, I thought you loved her \
And then —

Theodosius What then, Honoria ! Alas,
The child is pagan.

Honoria Do not speak to me
Of things outside, — the colour of her hair,

I
i

Attila, My Attila !

Her birth, and least of all of her religion.
You lőve her — do you feel the answer back ?
Quick, I am breathless*

Thiodosius But I cannot oíFer
My honourable lőve. She is a servant,
Low-b(»ii, imposstble. Oh, I have blundered 1
I did not xnean to húrt you.

Honoria No, you cannot.
I loved Eugenius, and regret the loving
Not for a single moment of my life.
There ! We will speak no more of hinu But you,
Dear Theodosius, do not let it pass,
This glory that is rising on your life,
Rising on hers, for lőve makes life so whole,
Fills up all hcdlow spaces, enters in
All gaps of scditude : it is the vigil,
The íasting, and the ecstasy in one.

Theodosius Honoria, you speak as if you felt
What I feel now, yet kept in strict seclusíon —

Honoria I have seen no man, but I lőve apart
From time, from sense.

Theodosius This is too difficult :
You must have had a vision.

Honoraria I have drawn
A destiny too great upon my head,
Have claimed so much I never can receive,
A joy that I shall die of if I taste ...

Theodosius But here is Athenais, and alone.

Attila, My Attila !

What shall I do ?

Honoria Leave everything to me.

{She pushes htm behind the embroidery frame ; Athenais
goes up to a reading^esk)
Dear Athenais, put away those scrolls,
And I will give you knowledge far more prccious
Than any they can give. You arc beloved.

Athenais You xnean ?

Honoria By him.

JÍthenais But he wiU ncver dare
To marry me, and, príncesS) I am proud ;
I will not stoop to hear of lőve unless
He takes me as his consort.

Honoria But be wiU.

Athenais His sister may despise my parentage)
Although I am the great Leontius* daughter,
And trained in Grecian science ; but if this
Is so, I will return and bcg my bread—
For, oh, I do adore him 1

Theodosius {Springing forward) I have heard :
I pledge to you my honourable love.
Come with me to my sister. I have chosen,
And, as I am a man, she shall accept.

{To Honoria) My dearest cousin, lonely, little exíle,
Teli me of something I could do to give
More sweetness to your life ; fot Athenais
And I would grant whatevo* you desire,
Would WC not, lőve ?

Attila, My Attila !

Athenais We would.

Honoria I shall rexnember !
But do not think of xne.

( They go űut) How wise they are,
Perfect and fearless. — ^Wc shall tread liké that
Etzel's red fleeces. Oh, how glorious
To push aside the curtains of a tent,
And feel the breeze, and íace the multitude*
My Attila, it is a happy ómen,
This pairing of young lovers I ... I am certa:n
The envoys have encountered Satyrus,
Certain they will betray him. But the power
That throws dúst intő mortal eyes, bewilders,
And carries through its heavenly intents,
Is with me, and no enterprise can fail
That is entirely hopeless. I am safe.

{Re-enter Pulcheria)

{Honoria has stood for a long time koking out* It is now
sunset)

Pulcheria Well, I have blest the lovers. Theodosius,
Through you, is now a man, and I believe
His choice may savé him ; it does savé the sóul,
I think, to have her choice.
) Honoria It does, it does !

Pulcheria I dared not thwart him.

Honoria No, you would be damned,
Thwarting the soul's desires

Pulcheria I think I should.

Attila, My Attila !

Honoria, / caxne to speak of lőve.

Honoria Then I will listen.

Pulcheria Theodosíus says
You have a lőve apart from time and sense.
He íinds that difficult to understand ;
I do not. I have longed through all raj life
To lőve liké that and cannot.

Honoria No, indeed !
You talk of ecstasíes and I enjoy,
Of the soul's freedom and my sóul is free,
You talk of blessedness and I am blessed
Above all other women.

Pulcheria {Below the steps in /ront) I believe
She is God's chosen amd will be an empress
Among the saints.

Honoria {Turning) You are a hypocríte,
A traitor, sending bribes to Attila.
Ah, I have found you out I And dare you face
That glory rushing toward us from the sun,
Bearíng such honour to us ? I receive it,
It comes in answer to my dream : but you —

Pulcheria I am all names you call me. How you reád
Straight down intő my heart ! A hypocrite \
For I have seemed a saint and am a sinner ;
And traitor^ yes, for I have oíFered bribes.
Honoria, in the light of those gold beams,
Bless me and pardon.

Honoria [Corning close to ber) I have sat and hated

Attila^ My Attila !

Your facc fbír fourtcen years.

Pulcheria I could bear that,
If you would let me be your steppíng-stone,
If you would give your fétmily the saint
I may not hope to give h.

Honoria I have hated
My íkmily íbr more than foiu'teen years,

Pulcheria Oh, that is nothíng, all the saints do that.
I lőve you as a stranger, with the passión
The heathen give to those who bring them life«
There had been death around me till you came,
You, with your living &ce and living eyes
And living voice 1 {She tries to embrace ber and is r§f^
pulseá) Oh, you are pitiless I

Honoria As you are in pursuit,

Pulcheria But do not haté me,
For you are all I have among my own,
All I can build on • . • You have had a yisíon ;
Repeat the blessed dream to me.

Honoria I will not.

{Perceiving Satyrus)
But there are those to whom it has been trusted,
Who can receive it —

{Enter Satyrus) Satyrus, what news ?
Where is the ring ? I shudder. Satyrus !

Satyrus Lady, your will is done.

Honoria And he replies —
What ? Do not heed my cousin ; the suspense

Attila, My Attila I

WiU kiU me ! He rq>lies . . . i O Satyma^
My braín grows hollow with the agony^
And I hear echoes — savé me I

Satyrus Ali is well.
( Ti Pulcheria) Empress, I come from John the Anchortte,
With fiill interpretatíon of a vision-^

Pulcheria (Doubtfklly) From John the Anchoríte ?

fíúnma And he replies —
Quick, this is torture.

Satyrus' Oh, he thinks you marked
For somé great future, says you are elect
Beyond all question, an elected bride,
A^ s^nse and i^dl-beloved.

Pulcheria {Devoutfy liftíng her bands) How wonderful !
My thought coníirmed.

Satyrus But says you must be patient ;
Great destinies are worked out by degrees.

Homria {Examining Satyrus* hand) Itpleased him . • ?

{Enter a Chamberlain)

Chamberlain Madám, the ambassadors
Are in the palace and most urgently
Beseech you for an audlence.

Pulcheria (72^ Honoria) Beata^
I will return.

Honoria No, do not, for this vision
Is something you can never understand.

{Exit Pulcheria and the Chamberlain)

Where is the ring ?

8i 6

Attila, My Attilái

Satyrut Not on his indcx-finger ;
You had not calculated how cnormous
Tiut is : his hands —

Hnuria He could not put it on í
He tried i Was that the end } What díd he tay
When you unfbided all I felt for him,
Ali the great fiiture I will bring to pass f

Satyruj He liked that, and he fiimblcd with the hoop
While I was talking, scrutinised its mottó }
And then he bughcd — I nevcr heard guch laughter —
And sud you were ímmodest.

Hoturia {At tht reails, with htavimg hrtatt) While I
thought
There was a god wíthin him that could amwcr
Love's sbeer divineness back 1

He did not surely
Laugh all the time \ They say he never laughs.

Satyntf His Huns were thundcr-struck to hear the
sound:
But soon he had regained his gravíty ;
And then he said by the interpreter
Your messages were frank aod interesting,

fííiuria Frani I But that scems to wmnd me ; yet
you say
His interest was awakencd, pcrhaps his wonder ;
For it must be a wondrous condescension
To Rim that I should offcr him my ring.

Satyrus It is to me an infamy so great
81

Attila, My Attila !

I almost toré it from his hand.

Honoria Oh, why ?

Satyrus Because, Augusta, he is such a beast,
This son of Mudzuk, with his hateful eyes
That seem to lick the terror they inspire,
If you could only watch them I

Honoria He refused
To jrield my ring ?

Satyrus Precisely : but he questioned —

Hmoria Of what ?

Satyrus Your dowry.

Hmoria Ah ! You said that half
The West belonged to me f

Satyrus And then he lent,
The devil, on the black skins of his throne —

Honoria Musihg i

Satyrus His feattires did not work, and yet
It seemed as if somé frenzy mastered him.

Honoria Oh, then it was he brooded on my lőve ;
He is half-savage, and these silences
Are needful for somé brains to understand.
I liké that silence, and can now forgive him
The laugh that húrt me, in my turn, laugh too.
So he is ugly, and his throne is black . ^ •
What are you thinking of to look so sad
Now I at last am happy t

Satyrus You are safis,
Safe in your madness ; they ^ill never venture

83 0—2

Attila^ My Attila !

To húrt you by a hair, for Attila
Would sack half Italy in his revenge.

Honoria {Triumphantly) He would.

Satyrus But I am lost ; I shall not sérve you
After to-day.

Honoria {fFho has not listened) O Satyrus, do you
Think xne immodest ?

Satyrus No, unusual,
Poor little girl, that's all. And Attila
Has never seen you, there is that excuse.
If he had looked intő your eyes, such noble,
Believing eyes, he never could havc laughed.

Honoria Thank you, dear Satyrus. Now if there's
danger,
The least, you must escape.

{Shi pushes him away from her. Re-enter Pulcheria
and a train ofmutes and chamberlains)

Pulcheria Not by this door.
[To attendants) Arrest and bind him. And, Honoria, say,
What shall we do now with these awful names
You pierced me with ?

I would hx rather keep them
Than see you branded with their infamy.
Speak, did you send your messenger with gold ?

[Honoria nods)
Then we are fellow-sinners.

Honoria Not at all.
I simply sent to him the golden ring

Attila^ My Attila !

Thcy gíve to lovera. And he wcars it now.
Speak to me as the bride of Attila,
And do not touch my hands.

PuUheria You doom the world
To firc and sword, if Attila should claim you —

Heneria But I am ready to start forth to-day ;
I havc no fear of hím. Give me somc horees,
And, with a single servant, Satyrus,
I will go forth and meet my &te.

Pulcheria {In a stifleá voict) Ravenna
Must be your doom —
{Heneria coweri an imíant) or if , . . Child, I can

pardon,
If you would lőve me . . .

Hontria [Drau/ing berselfup ta berfídl htigbt) Every
element
That can bríng ruin 1^1 upon the land,
On £ast and West alikc. Imprison me.
Ah, cvcn at Ravenna, if you will,
I have the empire in my grasp and doom it
Most freely to perdition. Fire and sword,
Famine and sickness, let them brcak on you !
I have his hand who is the scourge of God.
Traitor and hypocrite !

Pulcheria [Faintfy) I cannot sentence.

{Te atttndantt) Call in the Emperor. As fbr that
falsé slavc,
Bear hím to execution.

Attila, My Attila !

Hoftoria Satyrus?
You shall not do itl On my knees, I pray^—

(Re^enter Theodosius^ Atbenaisy Arcádia^ Marina^ witb
the Ambassadors and Courtiers)*
But here is Theodosius.

PuUberia White with ragé ;
Do not appeal to him.

Theodosius These envoys swear
That they have seen your eunuch in the tent.

Ambassadors We swear.

Honoria And you swear truth. But, Theodosius^
You said when I brought lőve intő your life
I brought so great a boon that anything
I ever chose to ask for should be mine.
I ask the life of Satyrus. Unbind him !

Tbiodosius Put him to instant torture.

Honoria Athenais,
Plead for him I

Atbenais But I cannot plead y the man
Is taken in high treason.

Honoria {Desperately clutcbing Pulcberia^s bánd) If
you lőve me —
(A pause, Pulcberia remains speecbless)

Tbeodosius Behead him quickly. I am ruler now^
Pulcheria, and dismiss your íavouríte
For ever from my court.

{Separating tbem) Unlock her hand,
It sold me to the devil !

Attilcy Afy Attila !

Homria {Fixing her eyes on Satyrus^ wbo Js being
led awayj and lifting ber bands as if to draw a
€urs€ down on them aÜ) Attila,
My Attila, come tp me and avenge I

ACT IV

Attila^ My Attila i

ACT IV

ScENE — Thi priváté cbapel of the royal palaa at

Ravenna. It is rich witb mosaic-work and gold. A

fiight of steps leads up to thi altar : two cbairs of state

V are placed below thi stips to thi right.

Placidia, now wbiti^hiadidj sits on her thront ; bifwi btr^
at a littli distancij stands Eugenius.

Piacidia You know, Eugenius, why I sent for you ?

Eugitiius Empries^ when they unloosed my chains, I
stammered —
Did it mean pardon \ and they said in jest,
I know it must have been in mockery,
Something about Augusta and myself.

Piacidia They did not jest ; I summoned you to wed
Augusta — ^nO) the woman you betrayed :
I summon you to make my child a wife.

Euginius {In hlank amazomint) And she — she wishes
this?

Piacidia She does not know.

Attila, My Attila ! ^

Eugenius Then I refuse. 4

Placidia You cannot. -

Eugenius I refuse.
And now I am beyond your threats ; my fife
Is a loathed burthen —

Piacidia Torture ? |

Eugenius That is grown
Familiar, that I suffer every day :
It cannot now unnerve me.

Piacidia Then it iails.

Eugenius What do you want f Honoría — 1

Piacidia Your old manners
At least ! You were her servant.

Eugenius That disgrace
Has been wiped out for ever, You may frown !
The girl I rave of in the moonlit nights,
Who comes with little, tripping feet, Augusta !
NO) by my manhood, but Honoria, mine,
My lőve, my mistress ! '

Piacidia And to be your wife.

Eugenius Never ! She loved me fourteen years

And I have gone on laving her. But she —

I know she has been loathing me, unless ...

( Witb sudden ag$ny)
Unless she has been wanton and again . . .
Empress, why did you summon me — to cloak
Somé lover's insult ?

[^ Attila^ My Attila I

Piacidia Yes, to be her shield
From utter in&my.

* Eugenius Again — O God !
I will not shield her.

I Piacidia She has sent a ring

f To Attila ; he took it, and demands

* Her person and her dowry. We must either
By Christian marriage put her beyond reach
Of his unlawfid claim, or give his lust

And avarice their victim.
I Eugenius Madám, why

Am I raked up for this ?

Piacidia How natural !
You who have once possessed her.
Eugenius Once ! How often
Have others ?
j Piacidia She has líved in stríct seclusion

[ Since you were partéd ; but this ring she sent

I To Attila removes her from all hope

Of humán sympathy and help, but yours.
Savé her, if you repent«

Eugenius That I betrayed her,
Yes ; that I loved her, that she gave herself,
No, never ! But it seems her heart is set
On this disgusting Hun, a rival. Madám,
Less to your taste than I.

Piacidia She has not seen him.

Eugenius Then it grows dear. This was a childish trick

i 93

Attila, My Attila!

Liké thftt she pUjFcd on me — a trothplight-ríng
For any finger. After fourteen years,
So little changed !

Piacidia You recognise the need ?
We must protect her by a formai ríte.

Eugenius And have you thought what it will be to 1

me?
I lőve her ; in your curséd mines I leamt
To lőve her as a man : I have won freedom)
Chipping your gold and swearing. Do not trust me
With any formai part.

Piacidia I cannot savé her :
I made her an Augusta in thethope
Of keeping her from misery ; she plungcs
Intő the vortex and she calls me hard.
Savé her — ^you can*

[Corning up to hiniy she lays her bands clasped in sup*

plication on bis breast)

Eugenius I shall get little thanks
For this salvatipn.

Piacidia When she sent the ring.
He said — it was reported through the camp— *
That Román women have no modesty.
How will he treat her, if we give her up ?

Eugenius You shall not give her up.

(Valentinian enters)

Piacidia Then take your place
Beside the altar till I summon her.

Attila^ My Attila t

{Phttdia addréssis one-ofthe guard — then she and
Valentinian fali togithir)
Eugenius {By the altar) Ho, ho ! And now we shall
clasp hands again ;
No man has clasped ber hand. How I have cursed hér,
In these hot mínes and cailed on all the devik
To take her : but this devil, Attila . • •

(HoNORiA enters; sbe is dnssed simply in whiu as on
tbe morning ofhtr hirthday.
The same — except the íaded hair, ^cept • « •
No, I have lost the little girl who tripped
Down to me in the mines — lost her for ever !

{^He eoüirs his eyes)
Honoria (Speaii^g viry kw and witb gnat sweetness)
Why have you sent for me ? I am oontented^
Quite happy now, though I am in Ravenna,
And kept so strict a captive.
Eugenius Oh, her voice !

Honőria I live, though I am buried in the earth ;
A power has touched me that is liké the sun,
And every Httle fibre of my body
Is beating with the spring. You cannot húrt me i
I lőve the salt air from the marsh, I lőve
The deep seclusion,

Valentinian Then your country^s groans
Have never reached you ?

Honőria I can hear no sound • • •
I know the surface of the earth itself

Attila^ My Attila /

Is being moved by Attila $ I know

There are black rídges on the empire's verge.

Valentinian You do not know there has been one cam-
paign
Already, that our kingdom is laid waste
By you . . .

Honoria {^A doubtfid eagenuss brightining berface)
By me?

Valentinian I teli you, ín your name
Cities are burned, the harvest trampled down :
Vicenza and Verona, Bergamo^
Milán, all left as poor as vUlages —

Honoria (Involuntarily) He must have been in Italy !

Valentinian And women
You are not fit to touch through you were forced
Intő the devilish arois for which you long.

Honoria He has been here !

Valentinian You flush !

Honoria And as my portion
Claims • . . Italy?

Valentinian To strike you in the facc ! —
He claims half of my kingdom.

Honoria Yes — ^and i

Valentinian You
To be his bride.

Honoria The bride of Attila !

(Eugenius comes nearer)
My ring has virtue, and my hope has virtue,

AttUay My Attila !

And my abounding &ith in him — O joy ? ^

I felt the dream I had to be so great
That he must act it. Bríde of Attila !

Valentinian The Tanjou vows unless we give you up
In spring he will descend on Romé itself,
And burn the holy city. Give you up !
No, not if God or man can keep you ours.
Smile, üke a vampire, do ! You will not win me
To tolerate yóur ghoul, with grecdy hand
Halving my sceptre, rolling írom his lips
Counter-commands to mine, and getting children,
With noses broad as tents, to take his place
Above the Román world.

Honoria I never yet
Have needed to contend : I do not think
That words can settle anything. O mother,
Why do you care to keep me still in bonds,
When you are quite defeated ?

Piacidia No, I am not.
I send for you to do my will as simply
As when I sent for you to take the crown
And title of Augusta. You are here
By Christian marriage to be made a wife ;
And by that bond I shall defeat your hope
Of ever being bríde to Attila*

Honoria But nothing can prevent it.
Piacidia Yes, God can —
The Church of God, its holy sacrament.

Attila, My Attila !

Honoria {Laugbing softíy) A sacrament can keep me
from him — trjr,
Oh, let it try !

Piacidia Blaspheming girl, it can.
For you are to be married, to be joined
Securely to another, who will be
Your sole possessor.

Eüginius {Bitwan his Uetb) Yes, your sole,

Honoria Ha. • • • married ? {She laugbs ringingly)
To whom f

Eugitiius {Corning to ber witb ixtended bands) . My
unforgotten, you forget,
To me, in name.

Honoria {BlanÁly) To you —

{Recognising bim) To you! The pity
That you should take a truth of long ago
And turn it intő ialsehood.

{Keeping bim back witb a gtsture of her bands) You
are nothing,
No more to me than is my father's grave,
That does not sway a motion of my life.
Leave me !

Eugenius I cannot, till, my service done,
The servant is dismissed.

Honoria To play at marriagc—
You who have been my lovcr ! ^^

Eugenius And betrayed you, J

Have you forgottén that ? Through all the years

Attila, My Attila !

r never have forgottén it. You loved me
As women must not lőve, you dragged mj heart
Through hell for you ; but not to see your face,
Though it is liké the upper Üght to me,
Do I stand here.

You shall not be betrayed
Again — and by a man who could not suíFer,
Who could not lőve you. . • . I, at least I lőve,
At least I suiFer. I am here to savé you
From evén a viler traitor than myself.

Piacidia By making you a wife.

Honoria Oh — ^anything !
Call me what names you will, Eugenius* wife,
Augusta: I have learnt what titles mean.
You cannot scare me with such shadows while
I see the Tanjou with a naked sabre
Flashing before him as he rushes fbrth
To make the lands his own. I am the bride
Of Attila whatever you may do,
And am secure against these forms and rites
Because the lőve that knitted up the world
Is with me — lőve, lőve, lőve !

Piacidia O misery,
To hear one's child as she will ragé in hell I

{&bi sinÁs on her tbroné),
>• Valentinian (Laying hold of Honoria) You serpent, I

will hold and never loose you
Till you are knotted be$l. You do not care

99 M — 2

Attila^ My Attila !

Although you kill your mother.

Honoria Years ago
I think she would have killed me, if she could.

{Turning to Eugenius) She killed our child. Eugenius,
you consent
Now to obey her will ? I have no care
For anything they do to me ; but you,
Can you be base again ?

Eugenius Give me your hand.
I do this for your sake and . « . damn your mother !

Honoria {Shwly) Then I forgive you. Oh,what cruelty
You deal yourself !

Eugenius My ring upon your hand,
I only wish to live to keep it there,
While the long, &mishing and awful yeans
Number my exilc.

Valentinian {Tal^ng her by her shoulder) I am urgent
now.
Summon the priest.

Honoria No violence ! If you nced
A victim for your altar, I am ready.
While you are jabbering prayers I shall zppaA
To the great wizard God is sending forth
To overthrow you. I am with the storms^
Nature's own incantations, devilry
That heaven itself unlooses : I appeal
To the seven, deadly plagues, to flood and íire,
To the invisible, destroying hosts

íoo

Attila, My Attila !

That lay whoie empires prostrate east and westi
I do not plead my cause — I plead myself,
Forbidden my own nature : such a cry
Is shriller than the raven's.

{^Sbe takes Eugenius^ hand^ and^ laughing a low^ wild
laughy goes up to the altar. Piacidia lifis her head
and sees Valentinian)
Piacidia How it echoes,
That laughter liké a child's laugh, through the church.
O Valentinian, I shall soon be dead.
Valentinian I do not üke her curses.
Piacidia Go to her.

( Valentinian ascends the steps tvith the príest and several
courtiers and women^ among them Marsa. Piacidia
sits rigid as stone)
He thinks she cursed me. Can it be that children
Have any power to curse ? I thought that parents
Alone could strike that mortal way. I thought —
(Faintly) Marsa.

[Marsa comesfrom among the women and stoops ever

Piacidia)
Marsa Yes, Empress, yes ! But are you ill ?
Piacidia I suíFer, that is all. Marsa, you said
Once that your daughter should be made a nun ;
But now, if I command, you wiil obey ?
Marsa Empress, in everything.
Piacidia But teli me first
Whethcr your girl desires to leavc the world ?

lOI

Attiia^ My Attila !

Marta I cannot hope she does.
Piacidia Then matry her
Where shc is drawn to marry, and, while young.
Plánt ber Ín soii that brought you happiness.
Remembcr ! Fan mc, Marsa !

{PÜHting toward the altar^ but not lotüng)
Is it done ?
God, if this marriage should be farce on iárce,
And Attila possess her after all.
For he rejccts our sanctions, he is bound
By nothing we are bound by. It is strange
I never thought of that, and I wilt never
Aliow it can be thought of.

(She closet ber ejes at ifdeai — tben opens them
suddenly)

An alarm!
How startling 1 What can causc it ?

Marsa Shall I asJc ? (Jdvancing tnuard tbe daor)
It grows i the guards no longer bar the way.
Empress, my husband ]

(Anthemius, Cüttducted by laldiers and cturtiers, reacbtí

Placidia^i thrane and faüs at hir fiit)
Anthemius Attila is dcad.
Piacidia But . . . Arc you sure of this ?
Anthemius The Hun is dead.
Piacidia (Grasping the arms a/ber cbatr and rising)
Then I am not defcatcd. Sin is sin.
And God ópposes fierce idolators.

Attila, My Attila !

My people, do you hear him ? Attila

Is dead.

Ali Deliverance \ Attila is dead !

[The whole chambir rings with the cry as Honoria
turns her hack on the priest and Eugeniusj the
marriage having been consummated. On hearing
the news Eugenius raises bis arms with a gesture
of thanksgiving toward the altar. Honoria* s face
as she turns is rapt and glorified^ but shwly fixes
in horror)
Honoria It is a lie, a fearful piece of jesting

To foUow such a marriage. Oh, I know

When there is truth in anything — I feel it,

And this is quite outside me. AH you say

And do is lying.

[She advances) Attila is dead

As truly as Eugenius is my husband*

Bi^t this is acted bravely — ^nuptial games

To foUow our espousals !

(She laughs) Shout again

Your frantíc chorus Attila is dead!

See, I will lead you !

[She pauses on the top ofthe steps and looks round)

You are silent now,

You dare not speak that felsehood to my &ce -,

For Attila, you know, will never die —

That is the terror. I have summoned him

To break my bonds : he will destroy you all. .

103

■*n

Attila, My Attila /

{Placidia gives a glancé ofdoubt and anguuh at

Antbemiui)
Who told this poor, weak, flimsy tale ? ^

Valentinian Ha, ha !
You do not recogníse the messenger.

Honoria {Hurrying down the steps)
Who is it ? No « . . AnthemiuSi you have always
Been íaithful and a friend to me. Speak truth,
While I can hear. You do not understand
How life itself grows hollow as you jest,
And leaves me undefended —

Anthemius I speak truth ;
I would not líe, a soldier's word !

Honoria Oh thcn
It is report ; often such mighty falsehoods
Grow up around the mightyT— a report
With something in it, and you do not know
The Scythian tongue ; you misinterpreted.
He may have &llen sick, but is not dead,
For that would be mere chaos and collapse.

{Turning to Eugenius, who stands naw on the top of

the steps)
He has my ring — Eugenius, do you hear ? —
For troth-plight on his hand : I am his bride—
These are realities.

jínthemius (Desperately) I saw him dead
With my own eyes, Augusta*

Honoria . Saw it . . . oh!

104

t
^

Attila j My Attila !

{Reeting) Where's Satyrus ? . . .

(She lifts her hands fir helpi Eugenius hastening
down the steps tries to support her^ but ske rejects
hís helpj and props herself against a column as if
she were bound to it)
Now teli me . . . all the rest.

Jnthemius Dead in hrs tent, his warriors riding
round
In eagle-ringS) and further oíF the women
Raising their shrill lament.

Honoria {With vague exultation) A crjr comes up
As from the bosom of the essxh—farewell !
And they liave lost their god : my Attila !

(JVith glowing face^ she spreads out her arms as ifto
receive a divinity; Eugenius sinks down on the
lowest step of the altar)
Valentinian How did he die ? From gorging ?
jfnthemius He was murdered.
Valentinian Somé rebel . . . ?
jfnthemius No, his bride —
Valentinian How*s that ?
Eugenius {Spr inging up) His bride ?
Honoria (With a shriek) His bride !
Anthemius The captive Ildico. I sat
At table with him : — horror, drunkenness,
And merriment of savages ! I saw
His victim dragged on to the nuptial couch,
Piled high above the throne ; and caught a glimpse

lOS

Attila^ My Attila !

One instant of her curious, watchful fiice,
As the girl passed^ a shudder followed her ;
Although the hőst of warríors roared and stamped
Acclaimingty, they knew she had been forced.

Honoria [Her face rigid and threaiening)
Forced ! and while he was asking • . •

Piacidia Do not publish
Your shame, for your own sake. You must be conscious
Of your mad folly now.

jtnthemius Yes, every one
Knew that the girl was forced, but no one dreamed
That such a deed was trembling at her heart*

Homria They did not • • • Oh, go cm !

Anthemius And when next morning
He did not leave his tent, as was his custom,
The army laughed ; but as the daylight spread
One glitter on the pkiin, and stiU no sound
Broke through the folds, the jesting died away,
His warríors clashed their spears against their shields ;
He did not wake : they cried about the tent
Liké wolves and jackals • • . but he did not wake.
At last they caught the tent-skirt in their hands
And entered one by one. The bride was seatec^
White, with malicious and abandoned eyes,
Nursing a laugh, her veil wrung round her chin,
And Attila lay prostrate in a mass
Of frozen blood !

(During all this while Honorieíi face and attitűdé

io6

Attilay My Attila !

have become more terrible and fasctnated. Pale^
with blank eyes and a jeering laugby she catches
hold of her own veti and wrings it round her
heady while her right hand is clenched as if it
held a knife")
Honoria (Sharply hetween her teeth) Killed ? Are you

sure ?
jfnthemius {Terrified) Yes, murdered.
Honoria Not merely dead, but murdered f You are

sure ?
Anthemius By Ildico.
Honoria I never had a sister —
Ildico, Ildico í I have one now.
Ildico!

(She throws up her arms^ shrieking the name^ and
falls a senseless heap on the ground. Eugenius
stóops to lifi her)
Piacidia Do not touch her ; I forbid.
She is no wife of yours except in name.
Return to exile.

[To the guard) Take her to her cell ;
She must be hidden.

{Acry goes up on all íides without and witbin the palacey

Attila is db ad !}

107

Works by the same Author.

SIGHT AND SONG (Poems on Pictures). Printed
by CoNSTABLES. 400 copies. i2mo. 55. net

STEPHANIA: a Trialogue in Three Acts. Frontis-
piece, colophoxVi and omament for binding designed
by Selwyn Image. Printed by Folkard & Son.
Pott 4to. 6s. ncL

"We have true dráma in ' Stephania.' .... Stephania,
Otho, and Sylvester II., the three persons of the play, are more than

mere names Besides great effort, commendable eflfort,

there U reál greatness in this play ; and the blank verse is often sinewy
and strong with thought and passión." — Speaker,

*' ' Stephania ' is striking in design and poweríiil in execution. It
is a h^hly dramatic 'trialogue' between the Emperor Otho III., his
tutor Gerbert, aad Stephania, the widow of the murdered Román
Consol, Crescentios. Ihe poem contains much fine work, and is
picturesque and of poeticái accent. . . ." — Westminster Reuiew.

A QUESTION OF MEMORY: a Play in Four
Acts. 100 copies only. 8vo. 55. net.

"* ^^'.^^dSfr.

4 h F-JbUard^- ^iw.

List of Books

Belles Lettres

London : Elkin Mathews, Vigo Stree^W.

„ , Ttlttrmpkic AMrtii—

Vigo ViatUéi
LectorI eme, lege, tí gauiebis

List of Books

BELLES LETTRES

(InclmHng somé Iransfers)
PUBLISHED BY

Elkin Mathews

VIGO STREET, LONDON, W.

N^.^Thg Anthors and PubHsktr rtserve tht rigkt ^ re^rhUmg
mny hook in ikis list, txctpi in cnsts Vfher* a sti^latiűn kot hten made
to tkt conirary^ and of printing a separate tdition of any qf the books for
Am€rtca. In tke cast of limited Editicns^ tht nnmbers mentioned do
not inchtde tke copies sent far review^ nar tkase tupplUd to tke pubHc
libraries. Tke/ricee ofhooks not yet ptiblisked are subject to variation.

Tke Books mentioned in tkis Cata/ogyte can be obtained to order by any
Bookseller, Jt skould be noted abo tkai tkey are supplied to tke Trade &n
ierms wkiek will not allow ^disconnt.

Tkefollowittg^ are afew oftke Autkors repreeented in tkis CaieJogue :
R. D. Blackmorb. Chaklbs Lamb.

Róbert Bridges. P. B. Marston.

Buss Carman. William Morris.

E. R. Chapman. Hon. Roaen Noxl.

Ernbst Dowson. Mav Probvn.

MiCHAXL FiBLD. F. YoSK PoWKLU

T. Gordon Hakb. William SHAsr.

Arthur H állam. J. a. Symonds.

Katharimb Hinkson. Jorn Todruntbr.

Hbsbbrt P. Hornb. Hbmry Van Dykb.

Richárd Hovbt. Thbodorb Watts.

Leigh Hunt. Frbdbrick Wbdmgkb.

Sblwvm Imagb. P. H. Wicxstbbb.

Lmnbl Johnson. W» B. YbaT8<

The Publications of Elkin Mathews

ABBorr {DR. a c).

Travkls in a Trbb-Top. Sm. 8vo. 5^. na,
Philadelphia : J, B. Lippincott Company.

** Dr. AbboR pieases by the interett he takei in the subject whieh he tresis . •
and he adorns his matter with a good English style . . . Altogether, with itt
dainty prínting, It woald be a duínning boolc to reád in the opcn air on a bright
tummer'ft day —Athrnaum,

** He ha!« an ob<ervant eye, a warm tympathy, and a pen that enaUet n to aea
with him. Notbing could be more reaifui tban to reád the thoughts of rach nature-
ioven. The very litTesof hiscbapicftxaggettamet and gentlethings."— Dui/'n HtraÜ.

** A delightfiil volnme this of Nature Sketches. Dr. Abbott wrítes about New
England woods and strcams, aceiies neither qu>te fiuniUar nor qoite straiiKO to oi who
Icnow the nme things in the old country. The severer winter malees aome difterence,
a*, for instance, in the number of bird« that migrate there, but are ttationary here)
and there are, of coonr, otlier difiérences in buth fiiuna and flóra; aeverthetest, we
ieel in a way, at home, when Dr. Abbon taices us on ene of his dedgfatful winter or
sommer excuriions. This it a boolc which we cannot recommend too iüghly.*'—
Sféetattr.

The Birds About Us 73 Engravings. Second Edition.
Thick cr^ 8vo« ^s. 6d. net.

Philadelphia : y. B, Lippincott Company,

BA7EMAN (MAY).

SoNNKTS AND SoNGS. With a title design by John D.
Mackenzie. Fcap. 8vo. y. 6d. net,

BIHYON (LAURENCE).

Lyric Poems, with title page by Sblwyn Image. Sq.
i6mo. $s. net.

**This linle volome of Lyric Pocms dispiays a grace of ftncy, a spontaneltr
and individaality of inspiration, and a reücitous command oi metre and diction, wfaich
litt the wrher above tlie average of the minor singers of our time. . . . We may
expcct moch iirom the writer of ' An April Day, or of the strong cooclnding iines on
the présem age Írom a pie^e enCitled * Preaent and Future.' ' '—7ima,

** The product of a definjte,and sympathetic personality."~G/tA«.

**The impression that this volume malees upon us is that the writer has canght
the spirit of Maithew Arnold, and thac in no common degree. . . . Quiie
Titianesque in its force aod eolow.** — Sptctaur,

First Book of London Visions. Fcap. Svo. Wrapper.
IX. net, [/« thepress,

BLACKMORE (R, D.)

Fringilla : OR. SoME Tales in Verse. By the Author
of *'LornaDoone." With Eleven fuU-page Illustrations
and numerous vignettes and initials by Lijuis Fairfax-
MucKLBY and Three by James W. R. Linton.
Crown -8t«. lor. net.

The Publications of Elkin Mathews

BLACKMORE {ÍL D.y-€imtinued.

**^ FríngiUa' moit be looked npon as Mr. Blackaiore*t dhrenkMU, and u mich
h it Tcry delightfíiL A whimsical originality, an imaxtoadve weahh of detai!, a
pleafluit Knae oT hnmoiir arc among Mr. Blackmore^i qualittes as a poet." — Sptáhr.

** Mr. Blackmorc*t rerw is cmtnred and earefol j it it fiill of toiowledge ; It bas
cTcry qnality wbicfa commaods our ropect ; it has an old-world ^ann of gentleness
and peace.**— Mb. W. L. CouetnIY, in tfae Dátijf Tdtgrmph.

*'Tlie channinr and accomplislied drawings of Mr. nűrfioc-Mocklej, so findy
designod, so admiraUy decorative." — Atadtmr.

BOÍFCHER {HAFERING),

The C Major of Life : A Növel. Cr. 8vo. 31. 6d, nei.

[Isham Facsimile Reprint.]

BRETON (NICHOLAS),

No Whippinge, nor Trippinob, büt a kinde
FRIENDLY Snippinge London, 1601. A Facsimile
Reprint, with the originál Borders to every page, with
a Bibliographical Note by Charles Edmonds. aoo
copies, prínted on hand-made paper at the Chiswick
Prbss. I2ma 35. 6(L neí.

Alsó 50 copies Large Paper. 5.;. fu/.

Facsimile reprint ftom the seml-unique oopydJscovcred in the aatmui of 1S67 by
Mr. Charles Edmonds in a disiiBed lomber room at Lamport HalL, NorthaBii (Sir
Charles E. Isham'sX tnd purchased lalelj by tlie British Museum aitthorMas. When
Dr. A. B. Grosart coUected Bretoo's Works a íéw years ago fbr his ** Chertsey
Worthies Library,** he was íbrced to conféss that cerúdn of BretOD*s most eoveted
booka were nűssing and absohitely marallable. The semt-uniqne example imdcr
nodce was one of these.

BRIDÖES {RÓBERT),

A New Volums of Poems. [In prtparatioM,

BYRON {MAY).

A LiTTLE BOOK OF Lyrics. \^Iu preportUioH,

CARMAN {BLISS) & RICHÁRD HOFEY.

SoNGS FROM Vagabondia. With Deoorations by ToM
B. Meteyard. Fcap. 8yo. 5^. ntí,

Boston : Copeland &* Day,

** The Aatbors of the snull joint volume called * Songs from Vagabondia,* have
an nnmistücable rírikt to the name of poet. Thcse little snatches hare die s^rit of a
ripsy Omar Khayyam* They hare sJwajrs carelea verve, and often carelcss felidnr ;
ttiey are masculine and rongb, as roving songs should be. . . . Here, certainíy,
is tte poet*s sonl. . , . You have the whole spint of the book in sach an nnfer-

Vígo" Street, London, W.

CARMAN (BLISS) df RICHÁRD HOVEY^-^ontinued.

getable little Ijrríc as * In the Houm of Idiedaily.* . . We reftr tfae reader to the
deUghtfttl little volume itself, which comes as a welcome Interlude amidst tbc highlv
WTought intrwpectivepoetry of the day. "- FRANCIS Thompson, in Mtrry England.

^^ £Un Cannan is the author of a delightful volume of verse, * Low Tide on
Grand Pré/ and Richárd Hovey is the foiemost of the living poets oí* America, with
the exception, perhua, of Bret Harte and Joaquim Miller, whose names are more
familiar. He soonds a deeper note than either of these, and deals vith lofüer
themes.'* — Dublin Exfrtts.

ti Both posseM ti)e power of investing actualities with fancy^ and leaving tliem
nőne the less actual \ of setting the march music of ihe vagabond's feet to words } of
being cMnrades wiih nature, yet witboat presumption. And they have that chaírm,
raie m writers of verse, of drawing the reader intő the feUowship of their own zest
and contentment" — jtth*nautn.

CHAPMAN (ELIZABETH RACHEL),

A Little Child's Wreath : A Sonnet Sequence. With
title page and cover designed by Selwyn Image.
Second Edition. Sq. i6mo. . green buckram. ^s. 6d, net,

New York : Dodd^ Mead ár* Company,

** Contains many tender and pathetic passagea, and somé really exauisite and
•ubtle tonches of childhood natare. . . . The average excelknce of the sounets
is undottbted." — Sptetaitír,

**ln theseforty paraofpoetry . . . we have a centribution inspired by
grief fortbelostofachudof seven, which is not unworthy to take iis place evén
bcside^ln Memóriám.' . . . Miss Chapmw has ventured upoo saciedgroand,
bat ahe has cume off sa^y, with the inspíration oía divine sympathy in htr sóul, and
with lipi toached with tíM live coal írom the aliar on which glows the flarae ot
imoiortaJ lőve "-^-W. T. S TKAP, i» 7h* JUuUv, ofRtvhws.

*^¥\úl of a very solcmn and beautifiil but never exaggerated sentiment."—
LOGtOLLKt, in SUr.

** While they are brimming with tendemess and tean> tbey $n marked with the
skilled workmanship of the reai poet."— Glasgow HtraU.

^ Evidently describes very reál and latense soitow. Its strains of tender sym<
pathy will appúl spedally to those whose hearts have been wrang by the loss ot a
young child, and the verses are touching in their simpUcity *' — Mtmine Post.

*^ Re-assuTBi lu on its fim page by itssanity and its simple tenderness." — BMhium,

COLERIDGE {HON, STEPHEN).

Thb Sanctity of Conpession : A Románcé. 2nd edi-
tion. Printed by Clowes & Son. 250 copies. Cr. 8vo.
y, net [Very few retnain.

**Mr. Stepben Colerldge's tizteenth-centurv románcé is well and pleasantly
written. The style is thronghout in keeping •mm the story j and we shonld imagine
that tbe historical probabilities are well observed.** — Pali Mail Gaautu.

Mr. GLAD6T0NX wrítet:—**I have reád the singttlarly well told story. . . .
It opens np qaesdons both deep and dark j it cannot be right to accept in religion
or anything clse a sécret which detcroys the lift of an innocent íéUow creatuie."

The Publications of Elkin Mathews

CORBIN (JOHN),

Thb Élizabethan Hamlet: A Study of the Soorces,

and of Shakspere's Knvironment, to show that the Mad

Scenes had a Comic Aspect now Ignored. With a

Prefatory Note by F. York Powell, Professor of

Modern History at the University of Oxford. Small

4to. 3f 6r/. nei,

^ New York : Charles Scribners Sons,

• . . ** WheQ we add that ao onmpetent a Jttdge at PrdeMor Ytrk Powell
ezprettes hit belief in a Prefatory Note that Mr. Corbin hat *got hold of a trath that
has not been dearly, if at all, expresaed in oar Élizabethan ttudies — to wit, that the
f6th eentnry audience't polnt of view, and, of neceatity, the playwrlght't treatment
oljhit aiblect, were very diflérent from ourt of lo-day in raaoy mattén of mark' — and
expren our own coocurrence in thtt, w« have taid enough to rccommendMr. Corbm'a
little book fio the attention of ail shaketpcarían ttttdent»."~oTAM«f.

CROSSING {ff^ILLIAM),

The Ancient Crosses of Dartmoor ; with a Descrip-
tion of their Surroundings. With ii plates. Svo.cloth.
4f . 6</. na, i Very few remain,

DAVIES {R, R.),

SoME Account of the Old Church at Chelsea and
OF ITS MONUMEN FS. [/« preporation,

DE GRUCHT (AUGUSTA),

Undbr THE Hawthorn, AND Other Versbs. With

Frontispiece by Walter Crane. Printed at the

RuGBY Press. 300 copies. Cr. 8vo. 55. net.

Alsó 30 copies on Japanese vellum. 15^. mt,

: ' *^ Melodiont in metra, gracefiU in fiuey, and not wkhoat tpontuieity of intpiim-

■* ^ tion." 7hu$.

'^ ** Very tender and melodiont iimockofMra. De Grachy't véne. Rare imagioative

j power markt the dramaiic monologne * In the Priaon Van.* *' — Sftéktr,

'^ Dittingnifhed bv the attractive qualitiet of grace and rrfineroent, and a pnritf
of ftyle that it u refrrthing at a limpid ttrcam in tne heat of a tammer't noon. . . .
The charm of thcte poemt liet in their natmüieta, whick ia indeed an admirable
^' quality in tmi%}* ^ Saturday RtvUto.

DIVERSI COLORES SERIES,

' Su HORNE.

DOWSON {ERNESTj.

DiLEMMAS : Stories and Studies in Sentiment. (A Case of
Conscience.— The Diary of a Successful Man. — An
Orchestral Violin. — The Statute of Limitations. —
> Souvenirsof an Egoist). Crown 8va 3^. (m/. im^.

Néw YorJt: Freékriek A, Siokes C«mfmty,

Vigo Street, London, W.

DOHOSON {ERNEST^—continued.

**UnqiiestionaMy they arc good stories, with a real buman interest Ín* tiiem."—
St, Jamr^t Ga96ttU,

** * A Caw of ConKÍence * . . . an exceedlngly good itory. At firtt t'ght
h mighr appear unfintshed, as one of the problems presentM is left unsoked ; but one
80on iéels that anythin^ more woald have spoilt the art vntb which the double tragedy
of the two men'fl lives m fl^thed before the rtadar in a few p9%e»."'—jithtnétum.

**These ttoríet can be reád with pure enjoymeot, fi>r ak>ng iirith tubtlety of
dkonght aod grace of diction there u true lefinement."— X/vfi^ Mtrcuiy.

POEMS {Diversi Colores Series). With a title design by

H. P. HoRNE. Printed at the Chiswick Press, on

hand-made paper. i6mo. 5^ . neU [Shortly^

**Mr Dowaon^e contribntiont to the two aeriea of the Rhpiur*t Buk were
•abde and exqaklte poenu. He has a tooch of EUzabetban distinction. . . .
Mr. Dowson*s storíes are very remarkable in qvality." — Bvim Llurmj tVwrU,

FIELD {MICHAEL).

SiGHT AND Song (Poems on Pictures). Printed by
CONSTABLSS. 400 copies. i2mo. $s, fUt

[ Verv few remain,

Stephahia: a Trialogüe in Three Acts. Frontis-
)itce, colophon, and omament for binding designed
)y Sei.wyn Image. Printed by Folkard & SoN.
250 copies (200 for sale). Pott 410. 6j. net.

[ Very few remain,

*<We have trae drama in *Stephania.' .... Ste|Aania, Otho, and

Sylvester II., the three personi of the play, are more than nere names

Besídes great efiórt, commendahle eübrt, there is real greatness in this play } and the
blanic verse is often sinrwy and strong with thonght and pusinn.*'— S/MÍ#r,

***Stephania* isstrikingln design and powerfbl in execotion. It is a highly
dramatic * trialogüe * between the Emperor Otbo Ili., his tator Gerbert, and Stephania,
the widow cf the múrdrred Román Consul, Cresceiitins. The poem contains much
fine worlc, and is picturesque and of poeticái accent. . . y-^ff^tttminntr Stviao.

A QuESTioN OF Memory: a Play in Foür Acts.
100 copies only. 8vo. $s. net, [ Very few remain,

Attila, My Attila ! A Drama in Foür Acts.

With a Facsimile of Two Medals. (Uniform with

Stephania). Pott 4to. 51. net,
Boston : Copeland ór* Day,

It deals with die strange and desperate adrentnres of Honeria, danghter of the
fiunous Empre-s Galla Piacidia. This young princt-ss may reasonably be rrgarded as
the New Woman of the fiith centuiy, and It is from ihis point of view that Mic.ael
Firld has prrsented her aur<aciiies and t^eir punishment. The title page reproduccs
a medtt^whkh, » Gibbon*s words, *^exlübitt the pleasiog counienance of Honoria,'**
togethtr with one that npw ss n is beraiotllcr.

8 The Publications of Elkin Mathews

/ GALrON (ARTHUR).

EssAYS UPON Matthew Arnold {Diversi Colores Seríes),
Printed at the Chiswick Press on hand-made paper.
Cr. 8vo. $s. net* \^ín preparaiion.

GASKIN (ARTHUR),

GoOD KiNG Wenceslas. a Cárol written by Dr. Nealb
and Pictured by Arthur Jf. Gaskin ; with an Intro-
duction by William Morris. 4to. y, 6d, net,

Transferred to the present Publisher,

**!&. Aithv J. Gaikin has more than redeened the promiae of his Uliutratioas*
lo Hana Clwittian Andersen** talet by hls editíon of the laté Dr. Neale'c carol of
* Good King Weoceilas.' . . . The pictnres, pictorlal bordér^ and initial lettért
are remarlőble both for the vigour of the drawiiig and the tenae of the deeoratíre
■tyle iHiich they exhibit Mr. WiUiam Mwrit has shown his interest in the artist*i
works by contribnting a prefatory note.**— i>ai^ Ntwt,

GASKIN (MRS. AR7HUR).

An A.B.C. BooK. Rhymed and Pictured by Mrs.
Arthur Gaskin. 6o designs. Fcap. 8vo. y ód, net,

Chicago : A, C. McClurg ér* Co,

HAKE {DR, T, GORDON^ " The Parable Poet,")

Madslinb, and other Poems. Crown 8vo. $s. net,
Transferred to the present Publisher,

''Theninistnr of the angel Daphne to ber erring humán sister is fteqnaitly
rdated in strains of pure and elcvated tendemess. Nor docs the poet wlu> can sho«r
so much dcUcaqr nil in streneth. The dcscripcioa of Madellne as sbe pasws in
trance to lier veogeance is fali of vivid pictures and charged with tragie fiMÜng.
The iodiriduality of the writer lies in his deep sympathy with wbaterer a^cts the
beii^andcooditionofman. . . . Taken as a whole, the book lias high and
urasnál claims." — jhhnuntm.

*^ I have been reading * Madeltne* i^n. For aheer originality, both of conception
and of treatment, I cooslder that it stauds alone."— Ma. Thsodorx Watts.

Parablss and Tales. (Mother and Child. — ^The Crip-
ple.— The Blind Boy.— Old Morality. — Old Souls.—
The Lily of the Valley.— The Deadly Nightshade.—
The Poet). With a Biographical Sketch by Theodore
"Watts. 9 illustrations by Arthur Hughes. New
Edition. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. net,

<*The qnalitiesof Dr. Gorrfon Halce*s work were trom the first fuUy admitted
and warmty praised by one of the grealest of coniemporary poets, who was alsó a

!.«. -^ ^ • .. B ^^ i_j I <.!.- « _-_:« -_^;.i_ »k:_k

critie of exccptional acuteness — Rossetti. Indeed, the only tvro review artides which
Rossetti ever wrote were written on two of Dr. Hake's books : *■ Madeiine/ which he
reriewed in the Acadtmt in 1871, and * Parables and Tales,' which he reviewed in
^ FmrtniiMf in 1873. Mauy eminent critics have expressed a decided preference
ftr * Parabks and Tales ' to Dr. Hake*s other works, and ic had the adnntage of bdng

Vigo Street, London, W.

HAKE (DR, r, GORDON)--<ontinued.

eoridied witfa the adminible iUiutnitiont of Arthur Hiigliei.**'faft(ri«/ MLndtw^
Jmiiary, 1895.

** The piece called * Old Souls * it probábly aacnre of a dittioct place in the litcr-
atore of our day, and we believe the same may be predicted oí otber poenuin the
Utüecollcction justiMued. . . . Should Dr. Hake's more reitrícted, but lovely
and tincere ooatribuiion« to the poetry of reál liíb not fiod the immcdiate responie
they desenre, he may at least remember that othen alao have ikiled to meet at once
with full JustJce and recognition But we will bope for good eiieoaragement to hú
presentand fiiture woik) and can at kut en«are the lover of poetry that in theae
aimple pages he shall find not seldom a humanity limpid and pelludd — the well-sprijig
of a true heart, with which hb tearc mait mingle as with their own elemcnt.

**Dr. Hake haa been fbrninate in the beratiínl drawings wlúch Mr. Arthur
Hi^;hes has conb^ibuted to lűs litüe Tolume. No poet ootild have a more oongcnial
yolw-fellow than thia gíAcd and inaginative artist**— D. O. RofiBKTTI, in the
F^rtnightly, 1873.

HEMINGlfjír {PERCT).

Out of Egypt : Stories írom the Threshold of the East.
Cover design by Gleeson WhItb. Crown 8vo.
35. 6d. fut,

** This is a itrong book.'* — Acadimy.

** This is a remarkable book. Egyptian lile has aeldom been portrayed from the
inside. . . . The author's knowledge of Arabic, his sympathy with ilte religion
of Islam, above all his entire freedom lirom Western prejódice, luve enabled him to
leam more of wlut modem Egypt reaUy is than the average Eogliihman could
possibly acqoire in a lifeüme at Cairo or Port Said.*' — Afrium RevUw.

**Alively aiidpictuiesquestyle. . . undoubtedtalent." — Manchesttr GuardiaH.

** Bot seldom that the fint production o. an autlior is so mature and so finished in
stf le as this. . . . Tlie sketches are veritidile spoiis of the Egyptians- gems of
sproe in a setting of dear air, sharp ontlines, and wpndroos skics. — Mvming LMdtr.

<«This book pbces its anthor amongst thoae writers ftom wfaom lasting work of
high aim is to be expectcd.*'— T&< Star,

*^Thetale . . . is treated witfa daring directness. . . An impressivc and
pathetic doae to a story told thronghout with arreating itrength and simpiiaty" —
DtMy Vttm.

*< Genuine power wcA pathos."— PoJ/ Máü GmKtttt.

Thb Hapfy Wandeesr (Poems). With title design by
Charles I. ffoulkes. Printed at the Chiswick Press, on
hand-made paper. Sq. i6mo. 5J. net, [In thepress.

mCKET (EMILT H.).

A VoLUME OF PoEMS. With a Frontispiece bj Mary

E. SWAN. [In preparation.

Verse Tales, Lyrics and Translations. Printed at

the Arnold Press. 300 copies. Imp. i6mo. 51. nei,

íViery few remain,
^Miss Hidcey's * Verse Talet, Lyrics, and Translations* almoet inyariably
r each a high lerel of finish and completcness. The book is a itring of littlc rovodcd
pearls.— ^/ibfn^rMm.

10 The PublicatJom of Elkín Mtthews

HINKSON {HENRY A.).

Dqbun Vsksbs. By Mbubms ov TaiNITY COLLIOB.
Selecied uid Edited by H. A. Hihkson, Ute Scholac
of Trinily Coliege, Dubüo, Pott4tO. %$,n*t.
IhtiÜM ; Hadges, Rggii &' Ce., lÁmiíeá,
Includes contiüntioai by the following : — Aabrey de Vére,
Sir Stephea de Veie, Owar Wilde, J. K. Inpim, A. P. GnTcs,
f. Todbnnter, W. E. H. Lccty, T. W. Rolle«too, Edward
Dowden, G. A. Grcene, Scvnze-Annsttong, Douglw Hyde,
R. V. TyrreU, G. N. Plunkett, W. Macneile Dixon, Wilíituii
WUkini, George Wilkins, and Edwin Hamilton.

■* A plmui •DluDK ef naifmjHniy IiUi Vme. . . AjaUdaamliBign."

'DoUla VcTKi' wiU Ik lun unminuil mtcDtlDB ud ipjiluK."— dútiuJIiraU.

UI/fKSON (KjtTHARlNE).

Slobs oh thb Blackthokh : a Voldue of Tkisr
Stokibs. Crown 8vo., y. M mi. [/b prifaration.

"HOBBY HORSE iJHE)."

AnIllustratedArtMiscbllany. Ediledby Hbkibkt

P. HoKNB. The Fourth Number of the New Seriét

will shortly flppear, ailer whieh Mh, MatHEWs wiÜ

publish all the numbets in x volume, price £l, it. rut.

Betlen: Cepeland &■ Day.

HORNÉ {HERBERT P.)

DlVKRSl CoLORES: Poems. Vignette, &.c , designed by
the Author. Prínted at the Chiswick Pkrss. 350
COp'es. lűmo. 51. tieí.
Transítrtid by the Áutkor lo Iht prísml Publisher.

Vigo Street, London, W. ít

HORNÉ (HERBERT P.)^cotttinued.

TheSsaiBS of Books begun in <*DiVERsr Colorbs" by
Mr. Hbrbbrt P. Horné, wiU continne to be pub-
lished by Mr. Elkin Mathews.

The intentíon of the seríes is to give, in a collected and
sometimes revised íorm, Poems and Essays by various
wríters, whose names lűive hitherto been chiefly asso-
ciated with the Hobby Horse, The series wili be edited
by Mr. Herbert P. Home, and will contain :

No. II. Poems and Carols. By Sblwyn Image.

No. III. Essays üpon Matthew Arnold. By Ar-
TMUR Galton. [Immediately,

No. IV. Poems. By Ernest Dowson. [Immediately.

No. V. The Letters and Papsrs of Adam Le-
gendre. [In preparátum,

Each volume will contain a new title-page and ornaments
designed by the Editor ; and the volumes of verse will be
uniform with "Diversi Colores."

HORTON {ALICE).

Poems. [Shortfy,

HUEFFER {OLIFER F. MADOX).

SONNETS AND PoEMS. With a frontispiece. [SAürtfy.

HUGHES {ARTHUR).
See Hake.

HUNr (LEIGH),

A Volume of Essays now collected for the first time.
Edited with a crítical Introduction by R. W. M.
Johnson. [In the press,

IMAGE {SELfTTN).

Poems and Carols. {Dvversi Colores Serie8.«r-New

Volume). Title design by H. P. Horné. Printed

on hand-made paper at the Chiswick Press. i6mo.

5j. net. [/w/ ready.

** Among the artútt who havv tarned poets will thordy havc to be reckoned Mr.
Sélwfn Image. A volume of poems from hls pen wlU be imbltthed hy Mr. EUda
Mftthevs beíbre loog. Thoee who are aequainted with Mr. Sdwyn Imige't work
will czpect to find a reál and deep poctk cbarm in this book.'*— Dai/f ChnmkU,

12 The Publications of Elktn Mathews

IMAGE {SELWYNy-continued.

** No one eke couU have done it (!.«., wiitten ' Pocma and Ctrob ') in }ust thit
way, and the artút liiiiiidí.could have done it io no other waf .** ** A remarkable
imprest of perionality, and ihű penonaUty of lingiilar rarity and interest. Every
péct is períectly compoaed ; the ^ moiital caitooaing.* te vm Ro«etti'« pbrase, has
been adeqoately done . . . an aúrofgrave andhomely order . . . auniwtof
((uaint and sotitiy timple homelinew, with a somewhat abstract tevedty. . . . It
if a oew thing, the revelation of a new poec. . . . Here if a book whicfa may be
trtisltd tt> ovtlive most contcmporary lileratiire/'— ^tftenid^ Rnitw.

** An iutenseiy peraonal expression of a penooality of singular chvm, gravity,
fincifiilocas, and interest y work wliich is alone among contemporaiy rcrie aiike in
regard to siŰMtai>oe and to fbrm . . comes with more tnie novelty than any

book of Terse publiahed in England Ibr somé y«ars.'*^^A«iMrttM.

** Somé men sccm to avoid fame as sedolonsly as the majority seek f t. Mr. Sel%ryn
Image is one of these. He has achievcd a channing fámé by his very shyness and
mystery. His rery name bas a look of having been deUgned by the Century Guild,
and it was cortaialy fint publiahed in Tht CtnUry Guild Hthhy Htm.**'^Tb* Rtalm.

^la the liny little Tolame of verse, 'Poems and Carois,' by Selwyn Image,
we discern a note of spontaneous inspiration, a delicate and giacelul nnqr, luid
cottsiderable, but uneqttal, slúll of versification. The Carols arc stúliul reproductions
of that rather archaic fanu of composition, derotlonal in tone and (eüdtous in
sentiment. Lőve and natnre are the pitndptii tbcmes of the Poems. It is difficult
not to be luckneyed in the treatment of such themes, but Mr. Image sncccasfully
overcomes the difficulty." — Tbt Tim$s.

** The Catholie movcaKnt in literatunB) a slrong reality to^da^ in England as in
Firanoe, if worlúng within narrow limia, lias its newest interpretation in Mr. Selnryn
Image's * Poems and Carols.' Of coune the book is cbarming to look at and to
luuidle, since it i» his. The Chiswick Press and Mr. Mathews liave helped hím to
reaüze lus design." — 7b« skttdt,

ISHAM FACSIMILE REPRINTS , Nos. III. and IF.
See Breton and SouthW£LL.
*^* New Elizabethan Literature at the British Museum, see
Th€ Times 1 31 August, 1894, alsó Notes and QuerüSf Sept., 1894.

[By the Author of TAe Art of Thomas Hardy\

JOHNSON (LIONEL).

Poems. With a title design and colophon by Pl. P. Horné.

Printed at the Chiswick Press, on hand-made paper.

Sq. post 8vo. 5j. net.

Alsó, 25 special copies at 155. nrt,

Boston: Copdand and Day,

** Full of delicate fiwcy, and display much lyrical grice and feüdty.'*->-Tlm«r.

^ An air of solidity, combincd with sometlúng alsó of srverity, is the first

mpression one reccives from these pages. . . . The poems are more massive

han most lyrics arej they aim at dignity and attain it. This is, we believe, the fiist

book of verse that Mr. Johnson has publishedj and we would say, on a first reading,

dnt ÜM* a first book it was reroarlcably mature. And so it is, in its accomplishment,

iu rescnre of straigth, its uníaliering style. . . . Whaieyer form his wrtthig

takes, it will be the expression of a rích mind, and a larc talcnt."— ^«lMria/ UjnOtm.

Vigo Street, London, W. 13

JOHNSON (LIONEL)-^contifaied.

^ Mr. Lionel Johiuoo'a poemi hare the adrantags of a two-feld intpiration.
Mtny of these austere atiains conld nerer have been writtm ií he had not been
tteepÍBd in the moet Kolden poetr^ of the Grednj wbile, on the oútsr hand, tidc by
•ide with the melliíaoiM cnanong, there comei anotber note, mild, tweet. and
vnaophisticated— the very bird-noie of Celtíc poetnr. And then again one comes on
a rery ripe and afflaeat9 as of one wholias spoiled ttie very goldenett hanrcMs of tong
ofcttitivaledagei. . . . Mr. Johnaon'a poeiry it eoneened with iofty thinn aod
is nerer lesB tbaii pa«ionatdy liocere. It it aane, h^minded, and fiiU of feticitieft."
^^JUuUraUd Ltnam Ntwt,

**The most obviout characteristíct of Mr. Johnton't rene ara dignity and
dittíoction) bttt beneath theae one fbels a paasionate poetic impabe, and a grave
fiudnatin^ moaic pasacs from end to end of the volame." — RtabH.

** It u at ooce stately and paiúmiate, auttere, and free. Hii paitioa has a aane
moodi hisfirea white beat . . . Once agahi it i« the Ceitic spirit that maket
ibr hlgher things. Mr. Johiiaon't mun ia concemed ooiy with the highcst. Her
flight it as of a vinged thing, diat gocs * higher stíü and higfaer/ and has few
ilatterings near earth. — Jriiib Daify Indtftndmt.

JOHNSON (EFFIE).

In THE FiRE, AND OTHER Fancies. With fix>ntispiece
by W ALTÉR Cranb. Imperial i6mo. 35. 6d. net,

LAMB (CHARLES),

Bbauty and THE Beast. With an Introductíon by

Andrew Láng. Facsimile Reprint of the rare First

Edition. WUk 8 choice stipple engravings in brown

inky afler the originál plates. Royal l6mo. Jf. 6</. nei,

Transferred to the present Publisher,

LEGENDRE (ADAM),

The Letters and Papers of. {Diversi Colores Series.)

\In preparcUion,
MARSON {REV, C. I.).

A VOLUME OF Short Stories. [In preparátum,

MARSrON (PHILIP BOURKE).

A Last Harvest: Lyrics and Sonnets from the

BooK of Lőve. Edited, with Biographical Sketch,

byLoüiSECHANDLER Moulton. 500 copies. Printed

by Miller & Son. Post 8vo. 5^. net,

[ Very few remain.

Alsó 50 copies on hand-made L.P. los, 6d, net,

[ Very few remain*
**Among die sonnets with which the volume concludes, there are somé fine
eanunBJcs of a fórm of verse in which aU competent aathorities allow that Marsion
excelied 'The Breadth and Beauty of the Spadous Night,' *To AU in Haven/
'Friondship and Lőre,' *Love's Deserted Palace' — these, to mentioo no othess,
bare the *high serioosness * which Matthew Arnold made the test of tnic poetry."—

14 The Publications of Elkin Mathews

MASON {A. E, r.).

A RoMANCB OF Wastdalb. Crown 8to. 31. 6d. net.
Nem York: Frederick A. Stokes Company,

METNELL (fTILFRID).

Thb Child sbt in ths Mtdst. By Modbrn Pobts.
With Introdactíon by W. Meynell, and Facsimiíe of
the MS. of the "Toys" by Coventry Patmorb.
Royal i6mo. 3x. 6^. fui.

MORRIS {fVlLLIAM).

Sec Gaskin.

MORRISON (G. E.).

Alonzo Quixano, otherwise Don Quixotb: being a

dramatization of the Növel of Cervantes, and espe-

dally of those parU which he left uawritten. Cr. 8vo.

IS, nct,

**TU» pUy, diadnfiiulicd and fUl of fiM qulitioi ii a branra atmapt to enrkh
•w poedc dráma. . . . The reverenee shown fbr Cenraotes, tb« eaie to preserve
intact the characteristícs the Spaniih master hngered over co humoroiisif, ysc ao
lovingly, have led llr. Momioa to d Mcmid and ootable waaoiu.'^'-'Acmdtmy.

MUSA CATHOLICA.

Selected and Edited by Mrs. Wiluam Sharp.

[/i» preparation,

MÖRRAY (ALMA).

PoRTRAiT AS BEATRICE Cenci. With Critical Notice
containing Four Letters from Róbert Browning.
8vo. 2J. net,

NOEL {HON. RODEN).

My Sea, and other posthnmons Poems. With an Intro*
duction by Stanley Addleshaw. Cr. Svo. y. 6d.
ntt. \Tfnmediately.

Selected Lyrics from the Works of the laté Hon.
RoDEN Noel. With a Biographicnl and Critical
Essay by Pbrcy Addleshaw. Illustrated with t wo
Portraits, induding a reproduction of the famous picture
by W« B. RiCHMOND, KjL [In prtparaiion.

Vigo Street, London, W. * 15

NOEL {HON. RODEN)'-€ontinued.

PoOR Peoplb's Christmas. Prínted at thft Aylcsbury

Prrss. 250 copies. i6mo. u. neí.

[ Veryfew remain.

**DisplaytdM aathor at hia beit .... Ikfr. Noel always kas loneúiiiy
to say wortb saying, and his tcchnique^tbongh üke Browninf;, he u too intent upoa
idea to beciow ali doe caio npoo fern— is generallf inlBdent and loinetímca
matttf ly. We bear too aeldom fnm a poet of Micb dcep and Undly tynipathy.'*-—
Sundaj Timet,

(ySULLlVAN (FINCENT).

PoEMS. With a title-design by Sslwyn Imagb,

T/n preparation,
POÍTELL (F. rORK).
See CORBIN.

PROBTN (MAT).

Paksibs : A 600K OF PoEMS. With a títle-page and coyer
deftign by MiNNiB Mathbws. Fcap. 8vo. 31 6a, nd,

'* MÍm Probyn's new rolnme it a ilim one, bnt rare In qnality. 8he Is no mere
pretty Tene maker j ber tpontancity and originality «re beyond quettion, and m fiv
aa colottr and pictnretqticnrM go, only Mr. Frands Tbompaon rívals ber amoog tbt
EngUab Caibolk pocr« of to*day." — Shtdt.

** Tbia too tmall bock ű a mine of the pmett poetry, ^ncy boly, and very
refined, and removed as fiu* as posiibk fiom the tawdry or the common-place. '— Mi*
Mmathly,

*^ The rellgioiit poems are in their way perféct, with a tinge of the myDtidtm
eoe looki ibrin ibe pootry of two centnrict ago, bttt m teidoiii mceti wilb noirádaya.'*
—CatMk 7lm$i,

^ Pttil of a delicate derotioiial tentiment and moch meirical féUdty.**— 7te«/.

RHTMERS* CLUB, THE SECOND BOOK OF THE.

Omtríbutions by E. DowsoN, E. J. Ellis, G. A. Grbsnb,
A. Hillier, Lionel Johnson, Richárd lb Gai.-

LIBNNE, ViCTOR PlARR, E. RaDFORD, £. RhYS,
T. W. ROLLFSTONB, ArTHÜR SYMONS, J. ToD-

huntbr» W. B. Ybats. Prínted by Millbr & SoN.
500 copies (of which 400 are for sale). i6mo» 5j. mt,
50 copies on hand-made L..P. lOf. 6d, net»

New yprk: Doddy Mtadér* Ctf.

'*Tbe work of tweWe rery compeient vefM writeit* numy of tiiem not vnknoim
to fámé. Tbis form of pubUcation i» not a new departure exactly, bnt it i« a reeur-
rence to the excellent nishion of the EUzabethan ag^ wben *EngIand'» Heücon,'
Uvnmn *• Poetica! RbapiodT,* and * Pbomix Nast,' «^th tcores of otber coUcctioDS,
rmtÚMá ebe beat longt of the beat loag^vrlMn «f dMt tmalU epocb.**— Ji^«i m^

i6 The Publications óf Elkin Mathews

RHrMERS* CLUB, SECOND BOOK OF "THE-^tmthrned.

^Tl» fimn of üuem tfakteeB writen, who kave thiM buded tbenMlves
togecher, wiU be watehed witb interest Alvndy there U fulfilmeot íd thdr work,
ud there it modi promUe." -SpMktr.

^In theifitervvlsof VITdihrarebitandftoot ftvnátá far theai ai the * Chethiie
Cheete,' in Pleet Street, the membera of the R^ymere' Club bave produ -ed tome very
pretty poemt, which Mr. EUtín Mathews has issued in his notorioosijr dainty
nuuiner." — Pitü hUÜ Gasetttt.

SCHAFF (DB. P.).

LiTBRATURB AND POETKY : Papers on Dante, Latin
Hymns, &c. Portrait and Plates. loo copies only.
Svo. I0s.net. \^Very feio remaÍM,

SCULL {fF, DELAPLAINE).

TuB Gabden of THE Matchboxbs, and other Storíes.
Crown 8vo. y, 6d. f$€í, [fn ^reparation,

SHARP {WILLIAM).

ECCB PUELLA AND OTHER PrOSE IMAGININGS. Cr. 8vO.

3J. 6d, net,

SONG OF SONGS, ff'HICH IS SOLOMON'S.

Twenty Drawings from designsby Althea Gyles. 4to.

One Guinea net.
Álso 25 copies on special paper, Two Guineas neí,

[In preparátum,
[Isham Facsimile Reprint].
S[p\jrHWELL\ iR\pBEKr^

. ^ A - FOVREFOVLD MeDITATION, OF THE FOÜRE L4ST
THINGS. COMPOSED IN A DlUINE POEME. By R. S.

The author of S. Peter's complaint. London, 1606.

A Facsimile Reprint, with a Bibliographical Note by

Charles Kdmonds. 150 copies. Printed on hand-

made paper at the Chiswick Prbss. Roy. i6mo.

i{j. net.

Alsó 50 copies, large paper. ^s, 6d. net.

Facsimile reprint from the nnique fragment discovered in the antomn oT 1867 by
Mr. Charles Edmonds in a disused lumber room at Lamport Hall, Northants, and
lately porchased by the British Museum authorities. This fragment supplies the firet
sheet of a previousiy unknown poem by Róbert Soathwell, the Román Catholic poet,
wfaose rel^us lérroor lends a padMCic beanty to efsiytUag thac he wiote, and
fcpire editocs of SoiithweU*s vrorks will find it necetsary to give it dose study. The
inole of ihe Poem has been completed from two MS. copies, whidt differ in the
nomber of Stanzas.

SPLENDID SHILLING SERIES,
See Binyon-^Bridges.

Vigo Street, London, W» 17

SrMONDS (JOHN ADDINGTON),

In THE Key of Blüb, and othbr Prosb Essays.
With cover designed by C. S. RiCKETTS. Printed at
the Ballantyne Press. Third Edition. Thick
cr. 8vo. $s. 6d, net,

New York : Macmiüan &* Co,

** The Tujecy of Mr. SymoDdi* interests ! Here are oritidiau apón the Yenetían
Tiepolo, upoa M. Zola, upoii Mediaeral Norman Songs, upon Ehaabeduui lyríct,
npon Plato*t and Dante't wBalt of lovej and aot a ngn aaywhere, eioevt rntf be in
the lait, that he has more conccm for, or knowledge oj^ one theme Ihaii another.
Add to thete aitittic tbemes the delighted records of EofUah or Italian MeDes, with
tbeir rích beautiet of nature or of art, and the homan paadoni tlut inRvm tbem.
How Joyotts a senae of great poaieaions woa «t no oHin's hwtor loii mnit auch a
man Ttáin.**-^Daífy CbmUda,

**Some of the enays are Tery diarming, In Mr. Symonda* bM atyle* bvt tlM
flnt one, that wlüch gives iti name to the voloáe, ia at leaat ihe most carioaa of tiie

**The other eaiayi are the worie of a aoond and leaiible cfilk."-nMMlM«/

**The literary eaiajn are more iwtrained, and the prepared atudent will find tfaem
ffall of iünminarion and charm, while the dcécriptive papén have the attractiyeneM
which Mr. Symonda ahrava idves lo work in oia f Mf*.**— MK. JAS. Amcftorr
NuBLK, hl 7ht JAUrmry H^rld,

TENNTSON (LORD).

Stí Hallam,— Van Dyke.

rODHUNTER (DR. JOHN).

A SiciLiAN Idyll. With a Frontispicce by Waltbr
Cranb. Printed at the Chiswick Press. 250 copies.
Imp. i6mo. $s.neí. 50 copies hand-madeL.P. Fcap.
4to. lOs. 6d, net, [ Vayfew remain,

**" He coaUaea his notet aldlfiiUy« and miu his own roice, ao lo apeak, intő
thcnu and the muaic that rcaulti u sweet and ot a paatoral tunefiilactt."— S>««ifr.

** The bUok verve Is the trae rerse 6f pasioral, qaiet and sehobrly, with ftequent
touchcs of bcauty. The echocs of Theocntus and m the dassics at lafge are uMdcst
and félidtoos."— ^tf-74«^.

** A charming little pastoral play in one act. The vefK is siogniarly graoeíiil,
and many brlght nm% of wit sparue in the dialogoes.** — LHtrun ffWd.

** Well wortmy of admiration Ibr its gnce and del eate finJah, its clanmtis, and
its compactness.'*— uAJbrn^ntifi.

Also the foUowing works by the saiie Author tnmsferred
to the present Publisher, viz. : — ^Laurblla, and other
Poems, $s. net, — Alcestis, a Dramatic Poem, 4^. net.
— A Study of Shelley, 5j. 6d, net, — Forest Songs,
and other Poems, 35. net, — The Banshee, 35. net. —
Heléna in Troas, 2s. 6d. net.

iS The Publications oí Elkin Mathews

TYNAN (KATHARINE).
Sáe HlNKSON.

rAN DYKE {HENRY).

The Poetry of Tennysom. Third Edition, enlarged.
Cr. 8vo. 5^ . 6^. net.

Tke additions consist of a Portrait^ Two Chapters^ and the
BiUiography expamUd. The LaureaU himulfgave vaiuabh
aid in correctingvarimus details,

*<Mr. BUcin Muhrwt pabliihes a oew editioii, reviaed and enlan^ed, of tfaat
•xcdlent %»oik, 'The Poetrjr of Tennyton,* by Henry Van Dyke. The adticiom
are considerabte. It is extremeiy interestíng to go over the bibUographical notas
lo aae the contemptuoiM or, at bett« coniempcueualy paironiaiug t »ne ot the reviewera
io the eATly thirtiet gnidttally tarning to ciyiUtjr, to a lood chorm of applanee."—

^ Conaidered aa an aid to the itudy of the Lanreate, this labonr of love raeritt
warm eoouMnditioo. Itt groaping of the poems, itt bibliograpny and chronology,
iti cata'ogue orBiblical aliolon and qttotatiom, are eaeii and all rabitantial aecenories
to the kiiowledge of die aotnor."— Dr. Richamd Garnctt, io the UUutrauA

JfArsON {E. H, LACON),

The Unconscious Humou&ist, and other Essays.

[ín preparátum.

\^Mr. Wedmorés Shori Stories. New and Uniform Issue*
Crown 8zv., eack Volume 31. 6</. nei.}

WEDMORE {FREDERICK).

Pastorals of Francé. Foarth Editíon. Crown 8to.
35. 6d. net. \Ready»

New York: Charles Scribnet's Sons,

'* A writer in whom deücaqr of literary tsudi it Hallod with aa almoet dltem-
bodied ánenoM of aentiment." — ^hdnaum,

** Of tiogular qoaintnets and beauty." — Ctnumftrary RtvUw.

««The stories are exqoiaitdy tnU.**— T^ U^rU,

*'DeUcioas idyUs, written with Mr. Wedmore's fiudnatine command of
tjrmpatheticincideot, and with lüa diaracteristic charm of style." — líüutrattd Lsrím
Vttos,

'*The pnblication of the * Pastorals* may be said to have rerealed, notonly anew
taleatybatanewUteraryfmrf. . . The charm of the writingncverfiüls."—4MihK«ii

** In their simplicity, dieir tenderncts, their qnietude, their trothüUnets to tiia
reaMtaüfc dut they depict, * Pastorala of Fianca ' ara ahnott perfáct."

Vigo Street, London, W. 19

WEDMORE {FREDERlCKy^coHHnued.

Renunciations. Third Editíon. With a Portralt by
J. J. Shannon. Cr. 8vo. 3f. 6d, net* [Ready,

New York : Charles Scribner's Sons,

** These arc cterer studies in polite reálison. *—Aihmaum,

^' They arc quite nnusuaL Tlie picture oT Richárd Pel«e, with lii* one mooient
ef románcé, i« cxquistte." — St. yanus't Gascettt.

** *The Cbemj«t in the SuburlM,' in * Renondationi,* i* a parejoy. . . . The
•tory of Richárd Kelse's üfe is tóid with a power not uaworthy oT the now disabled
hand tfaat drew for us the lonely old agc of M. PareDt«**— M ft. TSAILL. in 7b«
Ntw Rtvmo.

** The book belong* to the higheit order of imi^inative work. ^ Ronmidationt '
are studiet fh>m the life>-picnireb which make plain to ui lome oT the innermoat
worlcings of the heart."— >lMÍfiMj».

^ Mr. Wedmore has gained ibr lümielf an enviable reputadon. Hit ttyle Imi
distinction, has fiirm. He has the poet's secret how to bring out the beanty of
common things. . . * The Chemist in tlie Suburbs,' in *■ Renundations,' is Iib
aasterpiece.">-^«lHnd!«/ Rtvintf.

** We congraciUate Mr. Wedmore on hii vivld, wholesome, and artistic woilc, ao
foU of supprBMod feeling and of quiet strength.**— ^rM^dní.

English Episodes. Second Edition. Cr. 8to. 3^. 6d,
ftet. [Ready,

New York: Charles Scribnev's Sons.

^Distioction is the characteristic of Mr. Wedmore's manner. Tlieae tlUnp
remaü) on the mind a« things seen ; not reád of.**— i><i/i/ Vnot,

^ A penerrating inai)iht, a fine pathos. Mr. Wedmore is a pecuüarly fine and
iane and carefully delibente artist.*'— ^f^j<mAu«fr Gatctttt.

**In * English Epb>odes' we have another proof of Mr. Wedmore's aniqae
posiden among the writers of ficrion of the day. We hardly think of lús dioct
rolumes as * siories,* but raiher as iiiOiSecrets and hearts* blood, crystalised somehow,
and, in their Jrwel-lbrm, cut with exceeding slcill by the hand of a master-worJcman.
. . The faoltlew episode of the ^Vicar of Pimlico' is ihe best in lofUiiess «f
parpose and keencas otinterest ; but the * Pitting Obsequies ' Is its equal on difiérent
htm, aiid dcserves to be a classic.*''-fíVU.

*** £ngljsh Episodes ' are worthy succeasors of ^Pastorals' and ^RenundatlonSt*
and with them ahouid represent a permanent addidon to Literature.*' — AauUmjf.

There may alsó be had the Collecied Edition (1893) of^Pastorals
of Francé^* and ^^ Renunciations^^'* with Jíiie-page by
John Fulleylove^ R.I, $s. net,

tnCKSTEED {P. H., Ifarden of Uns'versity Hall).
Dante : Six Sermons.
♦,* A FouRTH Edition. (Unaltered Reprint). Cr. 8vo.

2j. net,
** It is impossible not to be stmck wtth the reality and eamestneis with whidi
Mr. Wicksteed seeks to do Ivstíoe to what are the supráiAe demco i i of dM OmmtáUf
i» spirHoal aigmfiduiee, Md tto dapdi and faMlght orin morál teadring.*'

20 The Publications of Elkin Mathews

fVYNNE {FRANCES).

Whisper! a Volume of Verse. Fcap. 8vo. buckram.
2s, 6d, net,

Transferred by the Author to the presmt Publisher,

** A Unle rolnme of dnguhrlj sweet. and graoefiü poeins, hardly one of which
can be md by any lorer of poetry without defiuite pleaiore, and eyeryone who reads
either of them witbout is, we veoture to aay. unable to apjvf^date tbat play of light
aod thadoir ou tbe beart of man whicb U of uie rery e«ence of poetry.** ^Sftcuur,

**The book indodea, to my hnmble taste, many very cbanning pieces, motical,
•imple, •tratgbtforward and ii«r * ai nd as night.* It it long úoce I bave reád a more
agreeable roTume of verse, successfiil up to the measure of its aims and ambitions."—
Ma. ANDRSW Láng, iu Lmpnan't Magaxhtt,

YEATS (ir. B,).

The Shadowy Watkrs. APoeticPlay. \Jn preparaHon.

Thb Wind among THE Rekds (Poems). [In preparation.

Mr. Elkin Mathews holds likeunse the only copies of the

foUowing Books prinied ai the Prívate Press of the Rev.

C. Henry Dániel, FéUaw of Worcester College^ Oxford.

BRIDGES {RÓBERT).

The Growth of Lovb. Printed in Fell's old English
type, on Whatman paper. loo copies. Fcap. 410.
£3. 35. net.

Shorter Poems. Prínted in Fell's old English type, on
Whatman paper. 100 copies. Five Parts. Fcap. 4to.
£2, I2s. 6d. net. [ Veryfew remain,

HYMNI ECCLESIAE CVRA HENRICI DÁNIEL.

Small 8vo. (1882), £1. i^s. net. ^

BLAKE HIS SONGS OF INNOCENCE. f^

Sq. i6mo. 100 copies only. 15^. net.

MILTON ODE ON THE NATinTT.
Sq. i6mo. lOf. 6d. net»

LONDON: VIGO STREET, W.

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