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Book Publishing: Letters on Literature : "Let the priests go before, arrayed in white, And let the dark-stoled minstrels follow slow Next they that bear her, honoured on this night, And then the maidens in a double row, Each singing soft and low, And each on high a torch upstaying: Unto her lover lead her forth with light, With music and with singing, and with praying."
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Letters on Literature : "Let the priests go before, arrayed in white, And let the dark-stoled minstrels follow slow Next they that bear her, honoured on this night, And then the maidens in a double row, Each singing soft and low, And each on high a torch upstaying: Unto her lover lead her forth with light, With music and with singing, and with praying."

by Andrew Lang   

"Let the priests go before, arrayed in white, And let the dark-stoled minstrels follow slow Next they that bear her, honoured on this night, And then the maidens in a double row, Each singing soft and low, And each on high a torch upstaying: Unto her lover lead her forth with light, With music and with singing, and with praying."

This is a stately stanza.

In his first volume Mr. Bridges offered a few rondeaux and triolets, turning his back on all these things as soon as they became popular. In spite of their popularity I have the audacity to like them still, in their humble twittering way. Much more in his true vein were the lines, "Clear and Gentle Stream," and all the other verses in which, like a true Etonian, he celebrates the beautiful Thames:

"There is a hill beside the silver Thames, Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine, And brilliant under foot with thousand gems Steeply the thickets to his floods decline. Straight trees in every place Their thick tops interlace, And pendent branches trail their foliage fine Upon his watery face. * * *

A reedy island guards the sacred bower And hides it from the meadow, where in peace The lazy cows wrench many a scented flower, Robbing the golden market of the bees. And laden branches float By banks of myosote; And scented flag and golden fleur-de-lys Delay the loitering boat."

I cannot say how often I have read that poem, and how delightfully it carries the breath of our River through the London smoke. Nor less welcome are the two poems on spring, the "Invitation to the Country," and the "Reply." In these, besides their verbal beauty and their charming pictures, is a manly philosophy of Life, which animates Mr. Bridges's more important pieces—his "Prometheus the Firebringer," and his "Nero," a tragedy remarkable for the representation of Nero himself, the luxurious human tiger. From "Prometheus" I make a short extract, to show the quality of Mr. Bridges's blank verse:


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