' WOOD MAGIC ' AND ' BEVIS ' 169 



and the sun, and the sea, and the endless ether around 

 us ! Incredible marvel this sleep and clods and talk of 

 years. . . .'* 



And I cannot help quoting this little piece : 



* The summer shadow lingered on the dial, the sun 

 slowed his pace, pausing on his way, in the rich light the 

 fruits filled. The earth had listened to the chorus of the 

 birds, and as they ceased, gave them their meed of berry, 

 seed, and grain. There was no labour for them ; their 

 granaries were full. Ethereal gold floated about the hills, 

 filling their hollows to the brim with haze. Like a grape 

 the air was ripe and luscious, and to breathe it was a 

 drowsy joy. For Circe had smoothed her garment 

 and slumbered, and the very sun moved slow. , . . 



' The hazel bushes seemed quite vacant ; only one 

 bird passed while they were there, and that was a robin, 

 come to see what they were doing, and if there was any- 

 thing for him. In the butchery of the Wars of the Roses, 

 that such flowers should be stained with such memories ! 

 It is certain that the murderers watched the robin perched 

 hard by. He listened to the voice of fair Rosamond ; he 

 was at the tryst when Amy Robsart met her lover. 

 Nothing happens in the fields and woods without a robin. 'f 



Then, again, how fine the description of the swallows' 

 flight : ' With a camel's-hair tip the swallow sweeps the 

 sky. . . .' And the portrait of ' Jumps ' : ' His years pressed 

 heavy on him — very heavy, like a huge bundle of sticks ; 

 he was lost under his age. . . .' That exquisite physical 

 eye does not lead him astray ; it goes straight to its mark 

 like an arrow, but an arrow fledged with feathers from 

 no earthly wing ; and therefore the spiritual effect lives 

 on after the visual effect is dimmed or lost. 



In a little while he will be ready for ' The Story of My 

 Heart.' He has already tried to begin it. 



* Bevis : The Story of a Boy. f Ibid. 



