The tawny ancient of the warrior race,
With dusky limb and kindling face."
Or, should he prefer less conventional types—
"Colossal and resigned, the gloomy gods
Eying at large their lost abodes,
Towering and swart, and knit in every limb;
With brows on which the tempest lives,
With eyes wherein the past survives,
Gloomy, and battailous, and grim."
With all these legitimate subjects at his command, why indeed should the artist turn aside after that beguiling beauty which Eve saw reflected in the clear waters of Paradise, and which she loved with unconscious vanity or ever Adam met her amorous gaze. Only to the poet is permitted the smallest glimpse into the feminine world. In one brief half-line, Mr. Mathews coldly and chastely allows that "young Love" may whisper something—we are not told what—which is best fitted for the poetic ear.
What an old-fashioned bundle of verse it is, though written a bare half century ago! How far removed fron the delicate conceits, the inarticulate sadness of our modern versifiers; from the rondeaux, and ballades, and pastels,
