Contents：

WINDSANDWATERS

Ceres’RunawayWellsRainTheTowPathTheTetheredConstellationsRushesandReedsINABOOKROOM

ANorthernFancyPathosAnimaPellegrina！

APointofBiographyTheHonoursofMortalityComposureTheLittleLanguageACounterchangeHarlequinMercutioCOMMENTARIES

LaughterTheRhythmofLifeDomusAngustaInnocenceandExperienceTheHoursofSleepSolitudeDecivilizedWAYFARING

TheSpiritofPlacePopularBurlesqueHavePatience，LittleSaintAtMonasteryGatesTheSeaWallARTS

TithonusSymmetryandIncidentThePlaidTheFlowerUnstableEquilibriumVictorianCaricatureThePointofHonour"THECHEARFULLADIEOFTHELIGHT"

TheColourofLifeTheHorizonInJulyCloudShadowsWOMENANDBOOKS

TheSeventeenthCenturyMrs。DingleyPrueMrs。JohnsonMadameRoland"THEDARLINGYOUNG"

FellowTravellerswithaBirdTheChildofTumultTheChildofSubsidingTumultTheUnreadyThatPrettyPersonUndertheEarlyStarsTheIllusionofHistoricTimeCERES’RUNAWAY

OnecanhardlybedullpossessingthepleasantimaginarypictureofaMunicipalityhotinchaseofawildcrop——atleastwhilethecharmingquarryescapes，asitdoesinRome。TheMunicipalitydoesnotexistthatwouldbenimbleenoughtoovertaketheRomangrowthofgreeninthehighplacesofthecity。Itistruethattherehavebeenthefamouscaptures——thoseintheColosseum，andintheBathsofCaracalla；moreoveralessconspicuousrunningtoearthtakesplaceontheAppianWay，insomemilesofthesolitudeoftheCampagna，wheremenareemployedinweedingtheroadside。Theyslowlyuprootthegrassandlayitontheancientstones——rowsoflittlecorpses——forsweepingup，asatUpperTooting；onewonderswhy。ThegovernorsofthecitywillnotsucceedinmakingtheViaAppialookbusy，oritsstrippedstonessuggestiveofathrivingcommerce。Again，atthecemeterywithinthenowtornandshatteredAurelianwallbythePortaSanPaolo，theyareoftenmowingofbuttercups。"Alightoflaughingflowersalongthegrassisspread，"saysShelley，whosechildliesbetweenKeatsandthepyramid。Butacoupleofactivescythesarekeptatworktheresummerandspring——notthatthegrassislong，foritismuchovertoppedbythebee-orchis，butbecauseflowersarenottolaughwithinreachofthecivicvigilance。

Yet，exceptthatitisovertakenandputtodeathintheseaccessibleplaces，thewildsummergrowthofRomehasaprevailingsuccessandvictory。Itbreaksallbounds，fliestothesummits，lodgesinthesun，swingsinthewind，takeswingtofindtheremotestledges，andbloomsaloft。Itmakeslightofthesixteenthcentury，oftheseventeenth，andoftheeighteenth。Asthehistoricagesgrowcolditbantersthemalike。Theflagrantflourishingstatue，thehaughtyfacade，thebrokenpediment（andRomeischieflythecityofthebrokenpediment）aretheopportunitiesofthisvagrantgardenintheair。Onecertainchurch，thatisfullofattitude，canhardlybeawarethatacrimsonsnapdragonofgreatstatureandmanystalksandblossomsisstandingonitsfurthestsummittiptoeagainstitssky。ThecorniceofanotherchurchinthefairmiddleofRomeliftsoutoftheshadowsofthestreetsarowofaccidentalmarigolds。Impartialtotheantique，themediaeval，theRenaissanceearlyandlate，thenewermodern，thiswildsummerfindsitsaccountintravertineandtufa，reticulatedwork，brick，stuccoandstone。"Abirdoftheaircarriesthematter，"orthelastsea-

wind，sombreandsoft，orthelatesttramontana，goldandblue，haslodgedinalittlefertiledustthewildgrass，wildwheat，wildoats！

IfVenushadherrunaway，afterwhomtheElizabethansraisedhueandcry，thisisCeres’。Themunicipalauthorities，hot-foot，cannotcatchit。And，worsethanall，iftheypause，dismayed，tomarktheflightoftheagilefugitivesafeonthearcofaflyingbuttress，ortakingtheplaceofthefallenmosaicsandcolouredtilesofatwelfth-centurytower，andinanycaseinaccessible，thegrassgrowsundertheirdiscomfitedfeet。Itactuallycastsaflushofgreenovertheircitypiazza——thewidelight-greypavementssovastthattokeepthemweededwouldneedanarmyofworkers。Thatarmyhasnotbeenemployed；andgrassgrowsinasmallway，butstillbeautifully，inthewidespacearoundwhichthetramwaycircles。

PerhapsahatredofitsdelightfulpresenceiswhatchieflypromptsthecivicgovernmentinRometotheefforttoturnthepiazzaintoasquare。Theshrubistotaketheplacenotsomuchofthepavementasoftheimportunategrass。Foritishardtobebeaten——andtheweeddoessoprevail，issosmall，andsodominant！Thesuntakesitspart，andonemightalmostimagineasensitiveMunicipalityintears，toseegrassrunning，overheadandunderfoot，throughthe"third"（whichisintruththefourth）Rome。

WhenIsaygrassIusethewordwidely。Italiangrassisnotturf；

itisfullofthings，andtheyarechieflyaromatic。Noricherscentsthrongeachother，closeandwarm，thanthesefromalittlehand-spaceofthegrassonerestson，withinthewallsorontheplain，orintheSabineortheAlbanhills。Moreover，underthenameIwilltakeleavetoincludelettuceasitgrowswithamostwelcomesurpriseoncertainledgesoftheVatican。Thatgreatandbeautifulpalaceispiled，atvariousangles，asitwerehouseuponhouse，heremagnificent，herecareless，butwithnothingpretentiousandnothingfurtive。Andoutsideonelateralwindowonaledgetothesun，prospersthislittlegardenofrandomsalad。BuckinghamPalacehasnothingwhateveroftheVaticandignity，butonecannotwellthinkoflittlecheerfulcabbagessunningthemselvesonanyparapetitmayhaveroundacorner。

Moreover，inItalythevegetables——thetableones——haveawildness，asuggestionofthegrass，fromlandsatlibertyforallthetilling。Wildishpeas，wilderasparagus——thefieldasparaguswhichseemstohavedisappearedfromEngland，butofwhichHerrickboastsinhismanifestationsoffrugality——andstrawberriesmuchlessthanhalf-wayfromthesmallanddarklingonesofthewoodstothepaleandcorpulentofthegardens，andwithnothingofthewildfragrancelost——theseareallItalianthingsofsavagesavourandsimplicity。

Themostcultivatedofallcountries，theItalyoftillage，isyetnotagarden，butsomethingbetter，ashercityisyetnotatownbutsomethingbetter，andherwildernesssomethingbetterthanadesert。Inallthethreethereisatraceofthelittleflyingheelsoftherunaway。

WELLS

Theworldatpresentisinclinedtomakesorrymysteriesorunattractivesecretsofthemethodsandsuppliesofthefreshandperennialmeansoflife。Averydullsecretismadeofwater，forexample，andtheplumbersetshissealuponthefloodswherebywelive。Theyarecovered，theyarecarried，theyarehushed，fromthespringtothetap；andwhentheirvoicesarereleasedatlastintheLondonscullery，why，itcanhardlybesaidthatthesongiseloquentofthenaturalsourceofwaters，whetherearthlyorheavenly。Thereisnotoneofthecircumstancesofthiscaptureofstreams——thecompany，thewater-rate，andtherest——thatisnotasignoftheill-luckofmoderndevicesinregardtostyle。Forstyleimpliesacandourandsimplicityofmeans，anaction，agesture，asitwere，inthedoingofsmallthings；itistheignoranceofsecretways；whereasthefinishofmodernlifeanditsneatnessseemtobesecuredbyasystemoflittleshufflingsandsurprises。

Dress，amongotherthings，isfurnishedthroughoutwithsuchfittings；theyformitsveryconstruction。Styledoesnotexistinmodernarrayings，foralltheirprettinessandprecision，andforallthesuccesses——whicharenottobedenied——oftheirouterpart；

thehappylittleswaggerthatsimulatesstyleisbutanothersignofitsabsence，beingpreparedbymeredodgesanddexteritiesbeneath，andthetriumphandsuccessofthepresentartofraiment——"fit"

itself——isbuttheresultofamaskedandlurkinglabouranddevice。

Themastersoffinemanners，moreover，seemtobealwaysawareofthebeautythatcomesofpausingslightlyuponthesmallerandslighteractions，suchasmeanermenareapttohurryoutoftheway。Inaword，theworkman，withhisfinishandaccomplishment，isthedexterousproviderofcontemporarythings；andtheready，well-

appointed，anddecoratedlifeofalltownsisnowaltogetherinhishands；whereastheartistcraftsmanofothertimesmadeamanifestationofhismeans。Thefirsthidesthestreams，understressandpressure，inpaltrypipeswhichweallmustmakehastetocallupontheearthtocover，andthesecondliftedupthearchesoftheaqueduct。

Thesearchofeasywaystoliveisnotalwaysoreverywherethewaytougliness，butinsomecountries，atsomedates，itisthesureway。Inallcountries，andatalldates，extremefinishcompassedbyhiddenmeansmustneeds，fromthebeginning，preparetheabolitionofdignity。Thisiseasytounderstand，butitislesseasytoexplaintheill-fortunethatpressesupontheexpertworkman，insearchofeasywaystolive，alltheill-favouredmaterials，makesthemcheapforhim，makesthemserviceableandeffectual，urgeshimtousethem，sealthem，andinterthem，turningthetrimanddullcompletenessouttotheviewofthedailyworld。

Itisanaddedmischance。Nor，ontheotherhand，isiteasytoexplainthebeautifulgoodluckattendingthesimplerdeviceswhichare，afterall，onlylessexpertwaysoflabour。Inthosehappyconditions，neitherfromthematerial，suggestingtotheworkman，norfromtheworkmanlookingaskanceathisunhandsomematerial，comesafirstproposaltopourincementandmakefasttheunderworld，outofsight。Butfatesparesnotthatsuggestiontotheableandtheunluckyattheirtaskofmakingneatworkofthemeans，thedistribution，thetraffickoflife。

Thesprings，then，theprofoundwells，thestreams，areofallthemeansofourlivesthosewhichweshouldwishtoseeopentothesun，withtheirwatersontheirprogressandtheirwaytous；but，no，theyarelappedinlead。

KingPandionandhisfriendslienotunderheavierseals。

Yetwehavebeendelighted，elsewhere，byopenfloods。Thehiding-

placethatnatureandthesimplercraftsallottothewatersofwellsare，attheirdeepest，incommunicationwiththeopensky。Noothermineissovisited；forthenoondaysunhimselfisvisiblethere；anditisfinetothinkofthewatersofthisplanet，shallowandprofound，allchargedwithshiningsuns，amultitudeofwatersmultiplyingsuns，andcarryingthatremotefire，asitwere，withintheirunalterablefreshness。Notapoolwithoutthisvisitant，orwithoutpassagesofstars。AsforthewellsoftheEquator，youmaythinkofthemintheirlastrecessesasthedailybathing-placesoflight；aluminousfancyisablesotoscatterfitfulfiguresofthesun，andtoplungetheminthousandswithinthosedeeps。

Roundimageslieinthedarkwaters，butinthebrightwatersthesunisshatteredoutofitscircle，scatteredintowaves，brokenacrossstones，andrippledoversand；andintheshallowriversthatfallthroughchestnutwoodstheimageismingledwiththemobilefiguresofleaves。Toallthesewaterstheagileairhasperpetualaccess。Notsocangreattownsbewatered，itwillbesaidwithreason；andthisispreciselytheill-luckofgreattowns。

Nevertheless，therearetowns，not，inasense，sogreat，thathavethegraceofvisiblewells；suchasVenice，whereeverycampohasitscircleofcarvedstone，itsclashingofdarkcopperonthepavement，itssoftkissofthecoppervesselwiththesurfaceofthewaterbelow，andthecheerfulworkofthecable。

OrtheRomansknewhowtocausethepartedfloodstomeasuretheirplainwiththestrong，steady，andlevelflightofarchesfromthewatershedsinthehillstotheandcity；andhavingthewaterscaptive，theyknewhowtocompelthemtotakepart，byfountains，inthisRomantriumph。Theyhadthewittoboastthusoftheirbrilliantprisoner。

NonemoresplendidcameboundtoRome，orgracedcaptivitywithamoreinvinciblelibertyoftheheart。Andthecaptivityandtheleapoftheheartofthewatershaveoutlivedtheircaptors。TheyhaveremainedinRome，andhaveremainedalone。Overthemthevictorywaslongerthanempire，andtheirthousandsofloudvoiceshaveneverceasedtoconfesstheconquestofthecoldfloods，separatedlongago，drawnonebyone，alive，totheheadandfrontoftheworld。

Ofsuchatransitismadenosecret。ItwasthemostmanifestfactofRome。Youcouldnotlooktothecityfromthemountainsortothedistancefromthecitywithoutseeingtheapproachofthoseperpetualwaters——watersboundupondailytasksandminuteservices。

This，then，wasthestyleofamaster，whodoesnotlapsefrom"incidentalgreatness，"hasnomeanprecision，outofsight，topreparethefinishofhisphrases，anddoesnotthinkthemeansandtheapproachesaretobeplottedandconcealed。Withoutanxiety，withouthaste，andwithoutmisgivingareallgreatthingstobedone，andneitherinterruptioninthedoingnorruinaftertheyaredonefindsanythinginthemtobetray。Therewasneveranydisgraceofmeans，andwhentheworldseestheworkbrokenthroughthereisnodisgraceofdiscovery。ThelabourofMichelangelo’schisel，littlemorethanbegun，aRomanstructurelongexposedindisarray——

uponthesethelightofdaylooksfull，andtheRomanandtheFlorentinehavetheirunrefutedpraise。

RAIN

Notexceptingthefallingstars——fortheyarefarlesssudden——thereisnothinginnaturethatsooutstripsourunreadyeyesasthefamiliarrain。Therodsthatthinlystripeourlandscape，longshaftsfromtheclouds，ifwehadbutagilitytomakethearrowydownwardjourneywiththembytheglancingofoureyes，wouldbeinfinitelyseparate，units，aninnumerableflightofsinglethings，andthesimplemovementofintricatepoints。

Thelongstrokeoftheraindrop，whichisthedropanditspathatonce，beingourimpressionofashower，showsushowcertainlyourimpressionistheeffectofthelagging，andnotofthehaste，ofoursenses。Whatweareapttocallourquickimpressionisratheroursensiblytardy，unprepared，surprised，outrun，lightlybewilderedsenseofthingsthatflashandfall，wink，andareoverpastandrenewed，whilethegentleeyesofmanhesitateandminglethebeginningwiththeclose。Theseinexperteyes，delicatelybaffled，detainforaninstanttheimagethatpuzzlesthem，andsodallywiththebrightprogressofameteor，andpartslowlyfromtheslendercourseofthealreadyfallenraindrop，whosemomentsarenottheirs。Thereseemstobesuchadifferenceofinstantsasinvestsallswiftmovementwithmysteryinman’seyes，andcausesthepast，amomentold，tobewritten，vanishing，upontheskies。

Thevisibleworldisetchedandengravedwiththesignsandrecordsofourhaltingapprehension；andthepausebetweenthedistantwoodman’sstrokewiththeaxeanditssounduponourearsisrepeatedintheimpressionsofourclingingsight。Theroundwheeldazzlesit，andthestrokeofthebird’swingshakesitofflikeacaptivityevaded。Everywherethenaturalhasteisimpatientofthesetimidsenses；andtheirperception，outrunbytheshower，shakenbythelight，deniedbytheshadow，eludedbythedistance，makesthelingeringpicturethatisallourart。Oneofthemostconstantcausesofallthemysteryandbeautyofthatartissurelynotthatweseebyflashes，butthatnatureflashesonourmeditativeeyes。Thereisnoneedfortheimpressionisttomakehaste，norwouldhasteavailhim，formobilenaturedoublesuponhim，andplayswithhisdelaystheexquisitegameofvisibility。

Momentlyvisibleinashower，invisiblewithintheearth，theministrationofwaterissomanifestinthecomingrain-cloudthatthehusbandmanisallowedtoseetherainofhisownland，yetunclaimedinthearmsoftherainywind。Itisaneagerlienthathebindstheshowerwithal，andthegraspofhisanxietyisonthecomingcloud。Hissenseofpropertytakesaimandreckonsdistanceandspeed，andevenasheshootsalittleaheadoftheequallyuncertainground-game，heknowsapproximatelyhowtohitthecloudofhispossession。Somuchistherainboundtotheearththat，unabletocompelit，manhasyetfoundaway，bylyinginwait，toputhispriceuponit。Theexhaustiblecloud"outweepsitsrain，"

andonlytheinexhaustiblesunseemstorepeatandtoenforcehiscumulativefiresuponeveryspanofground，innumerable。Therainiswasteduponthesea，butonlybyafantasycanthesun’swastebemadeareproachtotheocean，thedesert，orthesealed-upstreet。

Rossetti’s"vainvirtues"arethevirtuesoftherain，fallingunfruitfully。

Babyofthecloud，rainiscarriedlongenoughwithinthattroubledbreasttomakeallthemultitudeofdaysunlikeeachother。Rain，astheendofthecloud，divideslightandwithholdsit；initsflightwarningawaythesun，andinitsfinalfalldismissingshadow。Itisathreatandareconciliation；itremovesmountainscomparedwithwhichtheAlpsarehillocks，andmakesachildlikepeacebetweenopposedheightsandbattlementsofheaven。

THETOWPATH

Achildishpleasureinproducingsmallmechanicaleffectsunaidedmusthavesomepartinthesenseofenterprisewherewithyougirdyourshoulderswiththetackle，andsetout，alonebutnecessary，ontheevenpathoftheloppedandgrassysideoftheThames——thesideofmeadows。

Theelasticresistanceofthelineisa"heart-animatingstrain，"

onlytooslight；andsensibleisthethrillinitastheranksoftheriversideplants，withtheirsmallsummit-flowerofviolet-pink，aresweptasidelikealonggreenbreakerofflourishinggreen。Thelinedrumslightlyintheearswhenthebushesarehighanditgrowstaut；itmakesatelephonefortherushofflowersunderthestressofyoureasypower。

Theactivedelightsofonewhoisnotathleticarefew，likethejoysof"feelinghearts"accordingtotheerroneoussentimentofaverseofMoore’s。Thejoysofsensitiveheartsaremany；butthejoysofsensitivehandsarefew。Here，however，intheeffectualactoftowing，istheamplerevengeoftheunmuscularuponthehappylabourerswiththeoar，thepole，thebicycle，andallothermeansofviolence。Here，onthelongtow-path，betweenwarm，embrownedmeadowsandopalwaters，youneedbuttowalkinyourswingingharness，andsotakeyourfriendsup-stream。

Youworkmerelyasthemill-streamworks——bysimplemovement。Atlockafterlockalongahundredmiles，deep-roofedmillsshaketothewheelthatturnsbynogreaterstress，andyouandtheriverhavethesamemereforceofprogress。

Thereneverwasanykinderincentiveofcompanionship。ItisthebrightThameswalkingsoftlyinyourblood，oryouthatareflowingbysomanycurvesoflowshoreontheleveloftheworld。

Nowyouareoveragainsttheshadows，andnowoppositethesun，asthewheelingrivermakestheskywheelaboutyourheadandswingsthelightedcloudsorthebluetofaceyoureyes。Thebirds，flyinghighformountainairintheheat，wingnothingbuttheirownweight。Youwillnotenvythemforsobriefasuccess。DidnotWordsworthwanta"littleboat"fortheair？DidnotByroncallhimablockheadtherefor？Wordsworthhad，perhaps，asenseoftowing。

Alltheadvantageoftheexpertisnothinginthissimpleindustry。

Eventheathlete，thoughhemaygofurther，cannotdobetterthanyou，walkingyoureffectualwalkwiththelineattachedtoyourwillingsteps。Yourmoderatestrengthofamereeverydayphysicaleducationgivesyouthesufficientmasteryofthetowpath。

Ifyournaturalwalkisheavy，thereisspiritinthetackletogiveitlife，andifitisbuoyantitwillbemorebuoyantunderthebuoyantburden——theyieldingcheck——thaneverbefore。Anunharnessedwalkmustbegintoseemtoyouasorryincidentofinsignificantliberty。Itiseasierthantowing？Soisthedrawingofwaterinasieveeasiertothearmsthandrawinginabucket，butnottotheheart。

Towalkunboundistowalkinprose，withoutthefrictionofthewingsofmetre，withoutthesweetandencouragingtuguponthespiritandtheline。

Nodeadweightfollowsyouasyoutow。Theburdeniswilling；itdependsuponyougaily，asafriendmaydowithoutmakinganydepressingshowofhelplessness；neither，ontheotherhand，isitapttosetyouatnaughtorchargeyouwithamake-believe。Itaccompanies，italmostanticipates；itlagswhenyouarebrisk，justsomuchastogiveyourbrisknessgoodreason，andtojustifyyouifyoushouldtaketostillmorenimbleheels。Allyourhaste，moreover，doesbutwakenamorebrilliantly-soundingripple。

Theboundingandreboundingburdenyoucarry（butitnearlyseemstocarryyou，sofineisthemutualgoodwill）givesworktoyourfigure，enlistsyourerectnessandyourgait，butleavesyoureyesfree。Nowatchingofmechanismsforthelabourerofthetow-path。

Whatlittleoutlookistobekeptfallstothelotofthesteerersmoothlytowed。Youreasyandefficientworkletsyoucarryyourheadhighandwatchthebirds，orlistentothem。Theyflyinsuchloftyairthattheyseemtoturnblueinthebluesky。Aflashoftheirflightshowssilverforamoment，buttheyarebluebirdsinthatsunnydistanceabove，asmountainsareblue，andhorizons。Thedaysaresostillthatyoudonotmerelyhearthecawingoftherooks——youoverheartheirhundredprivatecroakingsandcreakings，thesoliloquyofthesolitaryplacessweptbywings。

Asforsongs，itisSeptember，andthesilenceofJulyislongatanend。Thisyear’srobinsareinfullvoice；andtheonlysongthatisnotforloveornesting——thechildishsongofboy-birds，thefreshestandyoungestnote——is，byahappyparadox，thatofanautumnalvoice。

Hereisnohoot，norhurryofengines，norwhisperofthecyclist’swheel，norfootuponaroad，toovercomethatlightbutresoundingnote。Silentarefeetonthegrassybrink，liketheinnocent，stealthysolesofthebarefootedinthesouth。

THETETHEREDCONSTELLATIONS

Itisnosmallthing——nolightdiscovery——tofindariverAndromedaandArcturusandtheirbrightneighbourswheelingforhalfasummernightaroundapole-starinthewaters。Onestarortwo——delicatevisitantsofstreams——weareusedtosee，somewhatbyasleightoftheeyes，sofineandsofleetingisthatapparition。Orthesouthernwavesmayshowthelight——nottheimage——oftheeveningorthemorningplanet。Butthis，inapoolofthecountryThamesatnight，isnoripple-lengthenedlight；itisthestartlingimageofawholelargeconstellationburningintheflood。

Thesereflectedheavensaredifferentheavens。Onadarkerandmorevacantfieldthanthatoftherealskies，theshapeoftheLyreortheBearhasanaltogethernewandnoblesolitude；andthewatersplayapainter’spartinsettingtheirsplendidsubjectfree。Twomovementsshakebutdonotscatterthestillnight：thebrightflashingofconstellationsinthedeepWeir-pool，andthedarkflashesofthevaguebatsflying。Thestarsinthestreamfluctuatewithanalienmotion。Reversed，estranged，isolated，everyshapeoflargestarsescapesandreturns，escapesandreturns。Fitfulinthesteadynight，thoseconstellations，sofew，sowhole，andsoremote，haveasuddennessofgleaminglife。Youimaginethatsomeunexampledgalemightmakethemseemtoshinewithsuchamovementintheveritablesky；yetnothingbutdeepwater，seemingstillinitsincessantflightandrebound，couldreallyshowsuchalteredstars。Thefloodletsaconstellationfly，asJuliet’s"wanton"

withatetheredbird，onlytopluckithomeagain。Atmomentssomerhythmicfluxofthewaterseemsabouttoleavethedarkly-set，widely-spacedBearabsolutelyatlarge，todismissthegreatstars，andrefusetoimitatetheskies，andallthewaterisobscure；thenonebrokenstarreturns，thenfragmentsofanother，andathirdandafourthflitbacktotheirnobleplaces，brilliantlyvague，wonderfullyvisible，mobile，andunalterable。Thereisnothingelseatoncesokeenandsoelusive。

Theaspenpoplarhadbeenincaptiveflightallday，butwithnosuchvanishingsasthese。Thedimmerconstellationsofthesoftnightarereservedbytheskies。Hardlyisasecondarystarseenbythelargeandvagueeyesofthestream。TheyareblindtothePleiades。

ThereisalittlekindofstarthatdrownsitselfbyhundredsintheriverThames——themany-rayedsilver-whiteseedthatmakesjourneysonallthewindsupanddownEnglandandacrossitintheendofsummer。Itisamostexperttraveller，turningalittlewheela-

tiptoewhereverthewindletsitrest，andspeedingonthoseprettypointswhenitisnotflying。ThestreetsofLondonareamongitsmanyhighways，foritisfragileenoughtogofarinallsortsofweather。Butitgetsdisabledifaroughgusttumblesitonthewatersothatitsfinely-featheredfeetarewet。Ongentlebreezesitisabletocrossdry-shod，walkingthewaters。

Allunlikeisthispilgrimstartothetetheredconstellations。Itisfaradrift。Itgoessinglytoallthewinds。Itoffersthistleplants（orwhateveristheflowerthatmakessuchdelicateashes）tothetopsofmanythousandhills。Doubtlessthefarmerwouldratherhavetomeetitinbattalionsthanintheseinvincibleunitsastray。

Butifthefarmerowesitalawfulgrudge，thereismanyarigidriversidegardenwhereinitwouldbeagreatpleasuretosowthethistlesofthenearestpasture。

RUSHESANDREEDS

Tallerthanthegrassandlowerthanthetrees，thereisanothergrowththatfeelstheimplicitspring。Ithadbeenmoreabandonedtowinterthaneventheshortgrassshudderingunderawaveofeastwind，morethanthedumbtrees。Forthemultitudesofsedges，rushes，canes，andreedsweretheappropriatelyreofthecold。Onthemthenimblewindsplayedtheirdrymusic。Theywerepartofthewinter。Itlookedthroughthemandspokethroughthem。Theywerespearsandjavelinsinarraytothesoundofthedrumsofthenorth。

Thewintertakesfullerpossessionofthesethingsthanofthosethatstandsolid。Thesedgeswhistlehistune。Theyletthecolourofhislightlookthrough——low-flyingarrowsandbrightbayonetsofwinterday。

Themultitudesofallreedsandrushesgrowoutofbounds。Theybelongtothemarginsoflands，thespacebetweenthefarmsandtheriver，beyondthepastures，andwherethemarshinflowerbecomesperilousfootingforthecattle。Theyarethefringeofthelowlands，thesignofstreams。Theygrowtallbetweenyouandthenearhorizonofflatlands。Theyetchtheirsharplinesuponthesky；

andnearthemgrowflowersofstature，includingtheloftyyellowlily。

Ourgreencountryisthebetterforthegrey，soft，cloudydarknessofthesedge，andourfulllandscapeisthebetterforthedistinctionofitspoints，itsneedles，anditsresoluterightlines。

Oursisasummerfullofvoices，andthereforeitdoesnotsoneedthesoundofrushes；buttheyaremostsensitivetothestealthybreezes，andbetraythepassingofawindthateventhetree-topsknewnotof。Sometimesitisabreezeunfelt，butthestiffsedgeswhisperitalongamileofmarsh。Tothestrongwindtheybend，showingthesilveroftheirsombrelittletasselsasfishshowthesilveroftheirsidesturninginthepathlesssea。Theyareunanimous。Afieldoftallflowerstossesmanywaysinonewarmgale，likethemanyloversofapoetwhohaveathousandreasonsfortheirlove；buttherushes，morestronglytethered，aresweptintoasingleattitude，againandagain，ateveryrenewalofthestorm。

Betweenthepastureandthewave，themanymilesofrushesandreedsinEnglandseemtoescapethatinsistentownershipwhichhassochanged（exceptforafewforestsanddowns）theaspectofEngland，andhasinfactmadethelandscape。Cultivationmakesthelandscapeelsewhere，ratherthanownership，fortheboundariesinthesoutharenotconspicuous；buthereitisownership。Buttherushesareagipsypeople，amongstus，yetoutofreach。Thelandowner，ifheisratheragrossman，believestheseracesofreedsarehis。Butifheisamanofsensibility，dependuponithehashisinteriordoubts。Hisproperty，hesays，goesrightdowntothecentreoftheearth，intheshapeofawedge；howhighupitgoesintotheairitwouldbedifficulttosay，andobviouslytheshapeofthewedgemustbecontinuedinthedirectionofincrease。Wemaythereforeproclaimhisrighttothecloudsandtheircargo。Itistruethatashisgroundgameisapttogouponhisneighbour’slandtobeshot，sothecloudsmaynowandthenspendhisshowerselsewhere。

Butthegreatthingistheview。Awell-appointedcountry-houseseesnothingoutofthewindowsthatisnotitsown。Buthewhotellsyouso，andprovesittoyoubyhisownview，iscertainlydisturbedbyanunspokendoubt，ifhisotherwisecontentedeyesshouldhappentobecaughtbyaregionofrushes。Thewaterishis——

hehadthepondmade；ortheriver，foraspace，andthefish，foratime。Butthebulrushes，thereeds！Onewonderswhetheraverythoroughlandowner，butasensitiveone，everresolvedthathewouldendurethissortofthingnolonger，andwentoutarmedandhadalongacreofsedgesscythedtodeath。

Theyareprobablyoutlaws。Theyaredwellersuponthresholdsanduponmargins，asthegipsiesmakeahomeuponthegreenedgesofaroad。Nowildflowers，howeverwild，arerebels。Thecopsesandtheirprimrosesaregoodsubjects，theoaksareloyal。Nowandthen，though，onehasakindofsuspicionofsomeoftheotherkindsoftrees——theCorottrees。Standingatadistancefromthemoreornamentaltrees，fromthoseoffullerfoliage，andfromalltheindeciduousshrubsandtheconifers（manifestproperty，everyone），twoorthreetranslucentaspens，withwhichtheverysunandthebreathofearthareentangled，havesometimesseemedtowearacertainlook——anextra-territoriallook，letuscallit。Theyaresuspect。Oneisinclinedtoshakeadoubtfulheadatthem。

Andthelandownerfeelsit。Heknowsquitewell，thoughhemaynotsayso，thattheCorottrees，thoughtheydonotdwelluponmargins，areinspiritalmostasextraterritorialastherushes。Inproofofthisheveryoftencutsthemdown，outoftheview，onceforall。

Theviewisbetter，asaview，withoutthem。Thoughtheirrootsareinhisgroundrightenough，thereisasomethingabouttheirheads——。Butthereasonhegivesforwishingthemawayismerelythattheyare"thin。"Amandoesnotalwayssayeverything。

ANORTHERNFANCY

"Iremember，"saidDryden，writingtoDennis，"IrememberpoorNatLee，whowasthenuponthevergeofmadness，yetmadeasoberandwittyanswertoabadpoetwhotoldhim，’Itwasaneasythingtowritelikeamadman。’’No，’saidhe，’’tisaverydifficultthingtowritelikeamadman，but’tisaveryeasythingtowritelikeafool。’"Nevertheless，thedifficultsongofdistractionistobeheard，alighthighnote，inEnglishpoetrythroughouttwocenturiesatleast，andoneEnglishpoetlatelysetthatuntetheredlyric，themadmaid’ssong，flyingagain。

Arevoltagainsttheoppressionofthelatesixteenthandearlyseventeenthcenturies——theageofthere-discoveryofdeath；againstthecrimeoftragedies；againstthetyrannyofItalianexamplethathadmadethepoetswalkinonewayoflove，scorn，constancy，inconstancy——mayhavecausedthistrollingofunconsciousness，thistuneofinnocence，andthiscarolofliberty，tobeheldsodear。

"IheardamaidinBedlam，"runstheoldsong。Highandlowthepoetstriedforthatnote，andthesingerwasnearlyalwaystobeamaidandcrazedforlove。ExceptforthetemporaryinsanitysoindifferentlywornbythesopranoofthenowdeceasedkindofItalianopera，andexceptthatarecentFrenchstoryplayswiththeflittingfigureofavillagegirlrobbedofherwitsbywoe（andthis，too，isaRussianvillager，andtheSouthernauthormayhavefoundhisstoryonthespot，asheseemstoaver）IhavenotmetelsewherethaninEnglandthissolitaryanddetachedpoetryofthetreblenoteastray。

Atleast，itisprincipallyanorthernfancy。WouldthesteadfastCordelia，ifshehadnotdied，haveliftedthelowvoicetothathighnote，sodelicatelyuntuned？Shewhowouldnotbeprodigalofwordsmightyet，indeed，havesunginthecage，andtoldoldtales，andlaughedatgildedbutterfliesofthecourtofcrimes，andlivedsolonginthestrangehealthofanemancipatedbrainastowearoutPacksandsectsofgreatonesThatebbandflowbythemoon。

She，ifKingLearhadhadhislastdesire，mighthavesungthemerryandstrangetuneofBedlam，liketheslighterOpheliaandthemaidcalledBarbara。

Itwassurelythenameofthemaidwhodiedsinging，asDesdemonaremembers，thatlingeredintheearofWordsworth。Ofallthesongsofthedistracted，writteninthesanityofhighimagination，thereisnothingmorepassionatethanthatbeginning"’Tissaidthatsomehavediedforlove。"ToonewhohasalwaysrecognizedthegreatnessofthispoemandwhopossiblyhadknownandforgottenhowmuchRuskinprizedit，itwasapleasuretofindthejudgementafreshinModernPainters，wherethisgravelyriciscitedforanexampleofgreatimagination。Itisthemourningandrestlesssongofthelover（"theprettyBarbaradied"）whohasnotyetbrokenfreefrommemoryintothealienworldoftheinsane。

Barbara’sloverdweltinthesceneofhislove，asDryden’sAdamentreatstheexpellingangelthathemightdo，protestingthathecouldenduretolose"thebliss，butnottheplace。"（Andalthoughthisdramatic"ParadiseLost"ofDryden’sishardlynamedbycriticsexcepttobescorned，thisisassuredlyafineandimaginativethought。）ItisneverthelessasawandererthatthecrazedcreaturevisitsthefancyofEnglishpoetswithsuchawildrecurrence。TheEnglishmanofthefarpast，barredbyclimate，badroads，ill-

lightedwinters，andtheintricatelifeandcustomsofthelittletown，musthavebeengenerallyahome-keeper。Noadventure，nosettingforth，andsmallliberty，forhim。ButTom-a-Bedlam，thewildmaninpatchesorinribbons，withhiswalletandhishornforalmsoffoodordrink，cameandwentasfitfullyasthestorm，freetosufferallthecold——anunshelteredcreature；andthechillfancyofthevillagerfollowedhimouttotheheathonajourneythathadnolaw。Wasitheinperson，orapoetforhim，thatmadetheswingingsong："Fromthehagandthehungrygoblin"？Ifapoet，itwasonewhowrotelikeamadmanandnotlikeafool。

Notatown，notavillage，notasolitarycottageduringtheEnglishMiddleAgeswasunvisitedbyhimwhofrightenedthechildren；theyhadanameforhimasforthewildbirds——RobinRedbreast，DickySwallow，PhilipSparrow，TomTit，Tom-a-Bedlam。Andafterhimcamethe"Abrammen，"whoweresaneparodiesofthecrazed，andwenttothefairsandwakesinmotley。Evelynsaysofafop："Allhisbodywasdressedlikeamaypole，oraTom-a-Bedlam’scap。"ButaftertheCivilWarstheyvanished，andnomanknewhow。Intimeoldmenrememberedthemonlytorememberthattheyhadnotseenanysuchcompaniesorsolitarywanderersoflateyears。

Themadmaidofthepoetsisavagranttoo，whensheisfree，andnotsingingwithinBedlamearlyinthemorning，"inthespring。"

Wordsworth，whodealtwiththelegendaryfancyinhis"Ruth，"makesthecrazedoneawandererinthehillswhomatravellermightseebychance，rareasanOread，andnearlyaswildasEchoherself：-

ItoohavepassedherinthehillsSettingherlittlewater-mills。

Hisheartmisgiveshimtothinkoftherheumatismthatmustbefallinsuchawayofliving；andhisgravesenseofcivilization，BOURGEOISinthehumaneandnoblewaythatishisown，restoresherafterdeathtothecompanyofman，tothe"holybell，"whichShakespeare’sDukerememberedinbanishment，andtothecongregationandtheir"Christianpsalm。"

Theolderpoetswerelessresponsible，lessseriousandmoresad，thanWordsworth，whentheyinturnweretouchedbythefancyofthemaidcrazedbylove。Theylefthertoherlightimmortality；andshemightbedrenchedindews；theywouldnotdesiretoreconcilenorburyher。Shemighthaveherhairtornbythebramble，butherheartwaslightaftertrouble。"Manylightheartsandwings"——shehadatleastthebird’sheart，andthepoetlenttohervoicethewingsofhisverses。

Thereisnothinginourpoetrylessmodernthanshe。ThevagrantwomanoflaterfeelingwasratherthesanecreatureofEbenezerElliott’sfinelinesin"TheExcursion"-

Bone-weary，many-childed，trouble-tried！

Wifeofmybosom，weddedtomysoul！

Troubledidnot"try"theElizabethanwildone，itundidher。Shehadnochild，oriftherehadeverbeenachildofhers，shehadlongforgottenhowitdied。Shehailedthewayfarer，whowasmorewearythanshe，withasong；shehauntedthecheerfuldawn；her"good-morrow"ringsfromHerrick’spoem，freshascock-crow。Sheknowsthatherloveisdead，andherperplexityhasregardrathertothemanykindsofflowersthantotheoldstoryofhisdeath；theydistractherinthesplendidmeadows。

Allthetragicworldpausedtohearthatlightestofsongs，asthetragedyofHamletpausesforthefitfulvoiceofOphelia。Strangewasthecharmofthisperpetualalien，andunknowntousnow。Theworldhasbecomeonceagainasitwasinthemadmaid’sheyday，lessseriousandmoresadthanWordsworth；butithasnotrecovered，andperhapswillneverrecover，thatsweetness。Blake’swasamorestarrymadness。Crabbe，writingofvillagesorrows，thoughthimselfboundtorecurtothelegendofthemadmaid，buthis"crazedmaiden"issaneenough，sorrowfulbutdull，andsingsofherown"burningbrow，"asHerrick’swildoneneversang；noristhereanysmileinherstory，thoughshetalksofflowers，or，rather，"theherbsIlovedtorear"；andperhapssheisthesurestofallsignsthatthestrangeinspirationofthepastcenturieswaslost，vanishedlikeTom-a-Bedlamhimself。IthadbeenwhollyEnglish，whereastheEnglisheighteenthcenturywasnotwhollyEnglish。

ItisnottobeimaginedthatanyhardSouthernmindcouldeverhaveplayedinpoetrywithsuchafancy；orthatPetrarch，forexample，couldsohaveforegonethemanifestationofintelligenceandintelligiblesentiment。AndastoDante，whoputthetwoeternitiesintothemomentarybalanceofthehumanwill，coldwouldbehisdisregardofthisnortherndreamofinnocence。Ifthemadmaidwasanalienuponearth，whatweresheintheInferno？Whatwordcanexpressherstrangenessthere，hervagrancythere？AndwithwhateyeswouldtheyseethisdewyfaceglancinginatthewindowsofthatCity？

PATHOS

Afugitivewriterwrotenotlongagoonthefugitivepageofamagazine："Forourpart，thedrunkentinker[ChristopherSly]isthemostrealpersonageofthepiece，andnotwithoutsomehintsofthepathosthatisworkedoutmorefully，thoughbydifferentways，inBottomandMalvolio。"Hasitindeedcometothis？HavetheZeitgeistandtheWeltschmerzortheiryetlaterequivalents，comparedwithwhich"lespleen"oftheFrenchByronicagewasgay，donesomuchforus？Istheretobenolaughterleftinliteraturefreefromthepreoccupationofashamreal-life？Soitwouldseem。

Evenwhatthegreatmasterhasnotshownusinhiswork，thatyourcriticconvincedofpathosisresolvedtoseeinit。Bythepenetrationofhisintrusivesympathyhewillcomeatit。ItisoflittleusenowtoexplainSnugthejoinertotheaudience：why，itispreciselySnugwhostirstheiremotionssopainfully。Notthelion；theycanmakeshifttoseethroughthat：buttheSnugwithin，thehumanSnug。AndMasterShallowhastheWeltschmerzinthatlatentformwhichisthemoreappealing；anddiscouragingquestionsariseastotheendofoldDouble；andHarpagonisthetragicfigureofMonomania；andastoArgan，ah，whathavocin"lesentraillesdeMonsieur"musthavebeenwroughtbythoseprescriptions！Etpatati，etpatata。

Itmaybeonlytootruethattheactualworldis"withpathosdelicatelyedged。"ForMalvoliolivingweshouldhavehadlivingsympathies；somuchaspiration，soill-educatedaloveofrefinement；sounarmedacredulity，noblestofweaknesses，betrayedforthelaughterofachambermaid。ByanactualBottomtheweaverourpitymightbereachedforthesakeofhissingleself-reliance，hisfancyandresourcecondemnedtoburlesqueandignominybytheniggarddoomofcircumstance。Butisnotlifeonethingandisnotartanother？Isitnottheprivilegeofliteraturetotreatthingssingly，withouttheafter-thoughtsoflife，withoutthetroublouscompletenessofthemany-sidedworld？IsnotShakespeare，forthisreason，ourrefuge？Fortunatelyunrealishisworldwhenhewillhaveitso；andtherewemaylaughwithopenheartatagrotesqueman：withoutmisgiving，withoutremorse，withoutreluctance。IfgreatcreatingNaturehasnotassumedforherselfshehasassuredlysecuredtothegreatcreatingpoettherightofpartiality，oflimitation，ofsettingasideandleavingout，oftakingoneimpressionandoneemotionassufficientfortheday。ArtandNaturearecomplementary；inrelation，notinconfusion，withoneanother。Andallthisofficiousclevernessinseeingroundthecorner，asitwere，ofathingpresentedbyliteraryartintheflat——（theborrowingofsimilesfromotherartsisofeviltendency；

butletthispass，asitisapt）——isbutanothersignofthegenerallackofasenseoftheseparationbetweenNatureandhersentientmirrorinthemind。Insomeofhispersons，indeed，ShakespeareisasNatureherself，all-inclusive；butinothers——andchieflyincomedy——heispartial，heisimpressionary，herefusestoknowwhatisnottohispurpose，heislight-heartedlycapricious。Andinthatgay，wilfulworlditisthathegivesus——orusedtogiveus，foreventhewordisobsolete——thepleasureofOUBLIANCE。

NowthisfugitivewriterhasnotbeensoswiftbutthatIhavecaughthimacloutashewent。Yethewilldoitagain；andthoselike-mindedwillassuredlyalsocontinuetoshowhowmuchmorecompletelyhuman，howmuchmoresensitive，howmuchmoreresponsible，istheartofthecriticthantheworldhaseverdreamttillnow。And，superiorinsomuch，theywillstillcounttheirimportunatesensibilityasthechoicestoftheirgifts。AndLepidus，wholovestowonder，canhavenobettersubjectforhisadmirationthanthepathosofthetime。Itisbrednowofyourmudbytheoperationofyoursun。’Tisastrangeserpent；andthetearsofitarewet。

ANIMAPELLEGRINA！

Everylanguageintheworldhasitsownphrase，freshforthestranger’sfreshandaliensenseofitssignalsignificance；aphrasethatisitsownessentialpossession，andyetisdearertothespeakerofothertongues。Easily——shallIsaycheaply？——

spiritual，forexample，wasthenationthatdevisedthenameanimapellegrina，wherewithtocrownacreatureadmired。"Pilgrimsoul"

isaphraseforanylanguage，but"pilgrimsoul！"addressed，singlyandsweetlytoonewhocannotbeover-praised，"pilgrim-soul！"isaphraseoffondness，thehighhomageofalover，ofonewatching，ofonewhohasnomoreneedofcommonflatteries，buthasadmiredandgazedwhiletheobjectofhispraisesvisiblysurpassedthem——thisisthefacileItalianecstasy，anditrisesintoanItalianheaven。

Itwasbychance，andinanoldplay，thatIcameuponthisimpetuous，sudden，andsinglesentenceofadmiration，asitwereasentenceoflifepassedupononechargedwithinestimabledeeds；andthemoderneditorhadthoughtitnecessarytoexplaintheexclamationbyanote。Itwas，hesaid，poetical。

AnimapellegrinaseemstobeItalianofnolaterdatethanPergolese’sairs，andsuitsthetimeasthefamiliarphraseofthemoremodernlove-songsuitedthedayofBellini。ButitisonlyItalian，bygoneItalian，andnotapartofthesweetpastofanyotherEuropeannation，butonlyofthis。

Tothesamelocalboundariesandenclosedskiesbelongsthecharmofthosebuoyantwords：-

Felicechivimira，Mapiufelicechipervoisospira！

Anditisnotonlyacharmofelasticsoundorofgrace；thatwouldbebutapropertyoftheturnofspeech。Itisrathertheprofounderadvantagewherebytherhymesarefreightedwithsuchfeelingastheverylanguagekeepsinstore。Inanothertongueyoumaysing，"happywholooks，happierwhosighs"；butinwhatothertongueshallthelittlemeaningbesosufficient，andinwhatothershallyougetfromsoweakanantithesistheillusionofalovelyintellectualepigram？YetitisnotworthyofanEnglishreadertocallitanillusion；heshouldratherbegladtotravelintotheplaceofalanguagewherethephraseISintellectual，impassioned，andanepigram；andshouldthankfullyfortheoccasiontranslatehimself，andnotthepoetry。

IhavebeendelightedtouseapresentcurrentphrasewhereofthecharmmaystillbeunknowntoEnglishmen——"piuttostobruttini。"Seewhatanall-Italianspiritishere，andwhatcontempt，notreluctant，buttolerantandfamiliar。Youmayhearitsaidofpictures，orworksofartofseveralkinds，andyouconfessatoncethatnototherwiseshouldtheybecondemned。BRUTTO——ugly——isthewordofjustice，thewordforanylanguage，everywheretranslatable，acircularnote，tobeexchangedinternationallywithageneralmeaning，wholesale，inthecourseoftheEuropeanconcert。ButBRUTTINOisasoothingdiminutive，adiminutivethatforbearstoexpresscontempt，adiminutivethatimpliesinnocence，andis，moreover，guardedbyahesitatingadverb，shruggingintherear——

【推荐阅读】幽幽深宫，醒来一梦似千年，重生于下堂妃身躯中的她，将如何手刃仇人? 点击阅读