Jephthah and Other Mysteries

‘A romance in verse, covering eighty-nine pages, and dedi- cated to the white maidens of England. The poetic merit is unequal, and the lyrics have something lacking. Zeus, too, is too great and important a god to have ‘slept daintily,’ and why was Robert Browning’s evil example followed in writing Phoibos for Phoebus, and Bacchos for Bacchus? especially as Cytherea, Cypris, and Charicles are allowed to remain in more familiar guise."—TZhe Bristol Times. ‘‘¢A Gentleman of Cambridge’ has written, in ‘ The Tale of Archais,’ a volume which will make pleasant reading for ‘ The White Maidens of England,’ to whom it is dedicated. The writer's technique is good ; he has a pleasant vein of fancy; but he lacks utterly originality. The tale is an echo of Keats; the lyrics with which it is interspersed are echoes of Mr. Swinburne, of Tennyson, and sometimes of Mr. Gilbert. These lines might be a very bad imitation either of Mr. Swinburne or of Tennyson: *O Kill me with the purple of Your Mouth ! _ And Slay me with the Gold of Your Forehead ! And bring me with you to the swarthy south! And bury me in your desire’s bed !’” —The Saturday Review. “ This is not a very pretty story. The passions and adventures of Charicles and Archais are in a sickly, sensuous vein, which does not strike us as particularly Hellenic; or if Hellenic, it is Hellenic of the decadence. And when Zeus and Aphrodite in- tervene, it is in a fashion characteristic enough of their dis- reputable duties, but barely edifying. However, the ‘Gentleman of Cambridge,’ though he has not good taste, has a certain command of facile rhythm. This is a fair sample: ; ‘ ARCHAIS. ‘Cold is the kiss of the stars to the sea, The kiss of the earth to the orient grey That heralds the day ; Warmer the kiss of a love that is free As the wind of the sea, Quick and resurgent and splendid. ‘ CHARICLES. ‘ Night her bright bow-string has bended : Fast flies her arrow unsparing Through the beech-leaves, Ether it cleaves Rapid and daring. Ah ! how it strikes as with silver! how the sun’s laughter is ended !’ 7