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verses, of Olivier de Magny's odes, and 

 of Jacques Tahureau's rhymes. He tasted 

 whatever offered, plucked everybody's 

 flowers, charged his diction with the 

 choicest words from all the active liter- 

 ary laboratories. Ronsard, Amyot (if he 

 may be listed here), D'Aubigne, Du Bar- 

 tas, and a whole swarm of humming-bees 

 filled his ears with honey-sweet word-ca- 

 dences, melodies, harmonies, which he 

 artfully affected to snub and refuse. 



But you can never be sure when he is 

 snubbing, so lightly he skips from one 

 mood to another. What he seems averse 

 to to-day he makes eyes at to-morrow — 

 a sort of fickleness which gives his pages 

 just the flickering, uncertain light of au- 

 thentic human nature. 



It seems to me [he rather casually remarks] 

 that poetry has had its turn in our time ; we have 

 an abundance of good craftsmen in that calling: 

 Aurat [Daurat], B^ze, Buchanan, I'Hospital, Mont- 

 Dore, Turnebus. As to the French, I think that 

 they have risen to the highest possible mark ; and 

 where Ronsard and Du Bellay are at their best, I 

 do not find them far removed from classical per- 

 fection. 



250 



