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REVIEW OF REVIEWS. 



ALFRED NOYES' LATEST POEMS. 



Following close upon the publication 

 of Alfred Noyes' "Drake," that master- 

 epic of the sea, comes " The Tales of 

 the Mermaid Tavern," the famous 

 gathering- place of the Elizabethan wits, 

 among them Raleigh, Jonson, Beau- 

 mont, Fletcher and Kit Marlowe. The 

 " Tales " are stories that the author 

 imagines to have been told at the Mer- 

 maid Tavern over the pipes and wine. 

 The lyrics are but loosely strung to- 

 gether by the narrative verse, and there 

 are places where the rough energy of 

 the poesy does not cover the creaking 

 mechanism., but the animation and high- 

 sniritedness of the whole carries the 

 reader along with a fine zest. 



Noves' work is composite, a mixture 

 of Tennyson and Swinburne, with a 

 dash of Stevenson and a flavouring of 

 Cavalier lyricism. At times it seems 

 artificial, but at least it is good arti- 

 ficiality. "The Tales of the Mermaid 

 Tavern " is a processional, a pageant of 

 the Elizabethans splendidly tricked out 

 in rich attire and flying banners with 

 burgeoning of crimson and gold. It 

 does not pause for a moment ; it 

 marches on and on, and after it passes 

 there is a little mist and glamour m 

 one's eyes. 



TheTi77tes declares that "this is the 

 best work Noyes has done so far." In 

 unity and evenness of poetical expres- 

 sion, It hardly rivals " Drake," although 

 there are fragments of the " Tales " 

 that are truly the finest things Noyes 

 has written. 



"The Sign of the Golden Shoe," tells 

 the story of the life and death of Kit 

 Marlowe, the son of a Canterbury 

 cobbler. 



This fine poenx rises with simplicity 

 and great power up to the sc€ne where 

 Nash comes to the Mermaid in his 

 bloodied coat and cries out : — 

 " Come, come and see Kit Marlowe lying 



dead, 

 Draw back the sheet, ah, tenderly lay 



bare 

 The splendour of that Apollonian head ; 



The gloriole of his flame coloured hair, 

 The lean, athletic body deftly planned 

 To carry that swift soul of fire and air ; 



The long thin, flanks, the broad breast 



and the grand 

 Heroic shoulders ! Look what lost 



dreams lie 

 Cold m the fingers of that delicate 



hand ; 



And shut within those lyric lips what 



cry ... 



Of unborn beauty sunk m utter night. 



Lost world of song sealed in an un- 

 known sky. 



Never to be brought forth clothed on 



with light, 

 Was this, then, this the secret of his 



song — 

 WAo ever loved that loved not at first 

 . sight?" 



Then follows the scene of the brawl 

 on the deck of the " Golden Hind," and 

 the description of Marlowe's death, 

 which Nash ends with the words : 

 " Here on my breast, with one great sob 

 he burst his heart and died." 



" The Burial of a Queen " is the burial 

 of Mary, Queen of Scots, at deaa of 

 night at Peterborough. The old sexton 

 tells of the ghostly shadows in the vault, 

 of the foreigner with the olive face and 

 soft French words, who begs once more 

 to look upon her face ; of the dark 

 catafalque with its inscription, " In my 

 defence, God me defend," and of the 

 voices of the host of heaven that bear 

 her soul away. Aside from some few 

 Ivrics, this scene in the nave of Peter- 

 borough Cathedral, with its ghosts, 

 shadows, and angels, is the finest poesy 

 Noyes has written. The book closes 

 with a tale of Raleigh, and here, as in 

 " Drake," there is no cunning appeal to 

 patriotism, or trick of stirring the blood 

 that he has hesitated to use. It is — 

 " Englande, Englande, Glory everlast- 

 ing " and lordship of the sea, that moves 

 the soul of this maker of ballads and 

 chanteys, who stirs us with the tread of 

 armed men, with clanking of hoofs and 

 horns blowing, and at last brings us to 

 the more peaceful delight of a pipe and 

 a cup of wine at the Mermaid Tavern 

 where huge projects and mighty dreams 

 go skittering in the blue smoke. 



