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Books and Bookmen : THE ROWFANT BOOKS BALLADE EN GUISE DE RONDEAU

THE ROWFANT BOOKS BALLADE EN GUISE DE RONDEAU

The Rowfant books, how fair they shew, The Quarto quaint, the Aldine tall, Print, autograph, portfolio! Back from the outer air they call, The athletes from the Tennis ball, This Rhymer from his rod and hooks, Would I could sing them one and all, The Rowfant books!

The Rowfant books! In sun and snow They’re dear, but most when tempests fall; The folio towers above the row As once, o’er minor prophets,--Saul! What jolly jest books and what small "Dear dumpy Twelves" to fill the nooks. You do not find on every stall The Rowfant books!

The Rowfant books! These long ago Were chained within some College hall; These manuscripts retain the glow Of many a coloured capital While yet the Satires keep their gall, While the Pastissier puzzles cooks, Theirs is a joy that does not pall, The Rowfant books! ENVOI.

The Rowfant books,--ah magical As famed Armida’s "golden looks," They hold the rhymer for their thrall, The Rowfant books.

TO F. L.

I mind that Forest Shepherd’s saw, For, when men preached of Heaven, quoth he, "It’s a’ that’s bricht, and a’ that’s braw, But Bourhope’s guid eneuch for me!"

Beneath the green deep-bosomed hills That guard Saint Mary’s Loch it lies, The silence of the pasture fills That shepherd’s homely paradise.

Enough for him his mountain lake, His glen the burn went singing through, And Rowfant, when the thrushes wake, May well seem good enough for you.

For all is old, and tried, and dear, And all is fair, and round about The brook that murmurs from the mere Is dimpled with the rising trout.

But when the skies of shorter days Are dark and all the ways are mire, How bright upon your books the blaze Gleams from the cheerful study fire,

On quartos where our fathers read, Enthralled, the book of Shakespeare’s play, On all that Poe could dream of dread, And all that Herrick sang of gay!

Fair first editions, duly prized, Above them all, methinks, I rate The tome where Walton’s hand revised His wonderful receipts for bait!

Happy, who rich in toys like these Forgets a weary nation’s ills, Who from his study window sees The circle of the Sussex hills!