I: \^^^ :mM: %,^^ : ^0 O A .-^ -; o. \' -^.^ -^ -. 4- ■> »'-'■ .*^ o ^ * * ° ' > o> •^-0^ > ;^ X^U. JLr^^U, M r ."TV 1 MAYNARD'S English • Classic • Series *— r2iJ I :WL^J^ la English classic Series. KELLOGG'S EDITIONS. Shakespeare's Plays. Bacb BMa^ In One Volume. Text Carefully Expurgated for Use in Mixed Classes. With Portrait, Mies, Introduction to Shakespeare's Grammar, Eu ination Papers and Plan of Study. (SELECTED.) By BRAINERD KELLOGG, LL.D., ^^^^^l^L^/JH ^'>}0]ish Language and Literature in the Brooklyn Polytechnic Inst author of a'' Text-Book on Rhetoric," a " Text-Book onEnalishlAteratu^'' and one of the authors of Reed '& Kellogg's "Les7otsinEnA"' The notes of English Editors have been freely used: but thev have bpfln t ously pruned or generously added to, wherever it was thougKhey m?^^^^^ meet the needs of American School and College Students ^ ^ 1.^+f ^^^ ^^P"?^^^^ ^^^^ teachers who examine these editions will pronounce i better adapted to the wants of the class-room than any others published T IIVJ^LT^^'^^'''^^'^ Editions of tkese Plays that have bein ckrel expurgated for use in mixed classes. c" ^<»xt3i Printed from large type, attractively bound in cloth, and sold at nearly one il jr.nifir>na /-kf SiVio1j-Qo»-K<->r...^ •' ..X.W..V.V.. ixv/ui idigo i-^pc, aiLiacuveiy Douna m< the price of other School Editions of Shakespeare. The following Plays, each in one volume, are now ready • Merchant of Venice. Julius Caesar. Macbeth. Tempest. Hamlet. King John. Much Ado About Nothing. King Henry V. King Lear. Othello. King Henry IV., Parti. A Winter's Ta Twelfth Nighl Romeo and Ju King Henry VIII. Coriolanus. As You Like It. King Richard 111. A Midsummer- - - ' Night's Dream. ■ Ma%Ung price, SO cents per copy. Special Price to Teachers MiHon's Paradise Lost. Book I. With por trait and biographical sketch of Milton, and full introductory and explanatoi-y notes. Boards. Mailing price, SO cents. Wilton's Paradise Lost. Books I. and II. With portrait and biographical sketch ot Milton, and full introductory and explanatory notes. Bound in boards. Mailing price, 40 cents. Shakespeare Reader. Extracts from the flays of Shakespeare, with historical and explanatory notes. By C H Wykes. 160 pp., 16mo, cloth. Mailing price, S5 cents. Chaucer'sThe Canterbury Tales. The Pro- logue. 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December 15, 1892. Published Semi-weekly. Subscripti( Price, $10. Entered at Post Office, New York, as Second-class Matter. A Complete Course in the Study of Engl spelling. Language, Grammar, Composition, Literati REED'S Word Lessons-A Complete Speller, Reed's Introductory Language Work. Reed & Kellogg's Graded Lessons in English. Reed & Kellogg's Higher Lessons in English. Reed db Kcllogg'S One-Book Course in Engli KELLOGG'S Text-Book on Rhetoric. KELLOGG'S Text-Book on English Litera In the preparation of this series the authors have had one c clearly in view — to so develop the 5tudy of the English langua to present a complete- progressive course, from the Spelling-Bo the study of English Literature. The troublesome contradic which arise in using books arranged by different authors on subjects, and which require much time for explanation in the sc room, will be avoided by the use of the above "Complete Cours Teachers are earnestly invited to examine these books. Maynard, Merrill & Co,^ Publishers, 43, 45 and 47 East Tenth St., New Y Copyright, 1893. By MAYNARD, MERRILL & Ca Life of Lowell. James Russell Lowell was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, February 22, 1819. His first American ancestor was Percival Lowell, who sailed from Bristol, England, in 1639 for the New World, and settled at New- bury. The descendants of Percival were respectively a cooper, a shoemaker, a minister, a statesman, the author of the clause in the Massachusetts Constitution abolishing slavery, and a "learned, saintly, and discreet " Unitarian minister, Charles Lowell, the father of the poet. The home of the Lowells at Cam- bridge was an old three-storied colonial mansion, called Elmwood, which had been built in 1767 by Thomas Oliver, the last royal Lieutenant-Governor before the Revolution. Here the poet was born and here he lived and died. His early education was obtained from a retired pub- lisher who kept a small school near Elmwood and instilled what classical knowledge he could into the small boys of the neighborhood. One of his school- mates has described Lowell as a quiet lad, averse to taking part m the rough games of the schoolboys^ and inordinately fond of reading. At Harvard the same taste was evident. He read widely, but without system. He was accustomed to say that at college he read almost everything — except the college text-books. Learning in its higher sense came to him later. In 1843 Lowell published his first volume of poems, which he afterwards called " the firstlings of my muse, Poor windfalls of unripe experience." 3 4 LIFE OF LOWELL. The public was not profoundly stirred by these first efforts of Lowell's genius, though some of his college friends had a deep conviction that he was inspired by a divine mission. The first real success, and it was a very real success, attained by the young poet was with the Biglow Papers, a series of poems in the Yankee dialect, dealing humorously with the great dispute over the slave question, which was just then at its hottest. Lowell was a strong abolitionist and as such was a valu- able ally to the reformers. Hitherto the laugh had been entirely at their expense, but he completely turned the tables, and soon the verses were jingling all over the country, doing good service in the great cause. In 1844 Lowell married Miss Maria White, of Water- town, near Cambridge, and for nine years lived an idyllic life at Elm wood. In 1853 Mrs, Lowell died. Her death was the occasion for one of Longfellow's most exquisite poems, a natural tribute between poets, Notwithstanding the sudden success of the Biglow Papers, it was not Lowell's intention to remain merely a writer of satire. In 1848 he wrote The Vision of Sir Launfal in a sort of fine frenzy; composing the whole poem in the space of forty-eight hours, during which he hardly ate or slept. This poem at once became popular and has remained one of the dearest literary heirlooms of the country. In the same year a third volume of poems appeared, among them some of his best. The Fable for Critics, a series of dashing sketches of American authors, was also written at this time, Lowell's critical judgment was nearly faultless ; many of the sketches m the Fable for Critics seem now almost prophetic. When Longfellow retired from the Harvard professor- ship of modern languages the authorities at once " chose Lowell as his most fitting successor," thus forging LIFE OF LOTVELL. 5 another link in the long chain of illustrious men who have raised Harvard to her proud position. No profes- sor was ever more popular with his classes than Lowell, and no man was better fitted to speak on literary sub- jects. His lectures on Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Cervantes made an ineffaceable impression on those who were fortunate enough to hear him. In 1857 Lowell married a second wife. Miss Frances Dunlap, of Portland, Maine, a cultivated lady who had undertaken the education of his daughter. A diplomatic appointment was a fitting tribute to a man of Lowell's brilliant intellectual and social qualities. In 1877 he was appointed minister to Spain and in 1880 was transferred to England, where for five years he represented the United States with a supreme tact which it is safe to say has been equaled by no other modern diplomatist. The year 1885 saw him again settled among his books at Elmwood, where he lived for the remainder of his life, still writing and occasionally lect- uring. He died in 1891, sincerely mourned by all Eng- lish-speaking peoples. Probably no man has so endeared himself on both sides of the water, and the extraordinary honor of having a service held in his memory at West- minster Abbey shows the deep impress which he left on the hearts of (he English people. With us he will always be one of the great fixed stars in the firmament of American letters. Critical Opixioks. In the few words of sympathetic criticism to wliicli Mr. Lowell gave utterance at the Gray Memorial cere- mony at Cambridge [University, England], he remarked, though in no disparaging way, on the extent to which the element of the "commonplace" in Gray's most famous poem had contributed to its world-wide popular- ity. It is to the lack of this quality in Mr. Lowell's own verse that it owes, one may suspect, its comparatively narrow circle of admirers. The American poet whom all Englishmen know, and than whom few Englishmen know other, was assuredly master of this, not " golden," but plain, serviceable locksmith 's-metal key to the popular heart. It need not be said — it would, indeed, be foolish to say it — in a sneering spirit, but the element of commonplace in Longfellow, the precipitate of salts insoluble in poetry which one finds at the bottom of that pellucid verse, is extraordinarily large ; and the average reader who prizes his poetry for the solid residuum it leaves behind it, after its purely poetic qualities have disappeared through the not very fine-meshed strainer of his imagination, appraises his Longfellow accordingly. The knack of infusing this ingredient into his poetry in the proportion approved of by the popular palate did not come naturally to Mr. Lowell and he has never acquired it. His poetic faculty, as we trace it through some thirty years of productive effort, shares the healthy growth of a healthy mind, but has never developed that useful form of adipose tissue which serves, at the expense no doubt of the higher quality of beauty, to keep warm the poetry — and the poet. On the other hand, it is but just to Mr. Lowell to add that he has not allowed his verse to run, in revenge, into that angu- larity of manner which too many poets not accepted by the multitude are wont to cultivate of malice prepense — the overstrained protest of classic severity of outline against the too buxom contours of the "popular " muse. 6 CRITICAL OPINIONS. 7 Mr. Lowell's poetry lias simply gone on perfecting itself in form and finish, until now lie is as complete a speci- men of "a literary man's poet," of the consummate artist in expression, — whom the lover of the art of ex- pression is hard put to it to judge impartially, from sheer delight in his workmanship, — as it would be easy to find in a summer day's hunt through a well-filled library. It is not difficult to trace the literary influences which have molded this highly-wrought, this artless-artful poetic manner. In the introduction to the Biglow Papers Mr. Lowell observes with pride that the nine- teenth-century New Englander "feels more at home with Fulke Greville, Herbert of Cherbury, Quarles, George Herbert, and Browne, than with his modern English cousins." — H. D. Traill, Fortnightly Review. Probably no American student was so deeply versed in the old French romance, none knew Dante and the Italians more profoundly ; German literature was familiar to him, and perhaps even Ticknor in his own domain of Spanish lore was not more a master than Lowell. The whole range of English literature, not only its noble Elizabethan heights, but a delightful realm of picturesque and unfrequented paths were his familiar park of pleasance. Yet he was not a scholarly recluse, a pedant, or a bookworm. The student of books was no less so acute and trained an observer of nature, so sensitive to the influences and aspects of out-of-door life that as Charles Briggs with singular insight said that he was meant for a politician, so Darwin with frank admiration said that he was born to be a naturalist. — George William Curtis. There is a beautiful feeling in Lowell's poems of Nature. Wordsworth has dwelt upon the contrast between the youthful regard for Nature, — the feeling of a healthy and impassioned child, — and that of the phi- losopher who finds in her a sense "of something far 8 CRITICAL OPINIONS. more deeply interfused." The latter is a gift tliat makes us grave. It led Bryant to worship and invocation ; and now, in the new light of science, we seek for, rather than feel, the soul of things. The charm of Lowell's outdoor verse lies in its spontaneity ; he loves Nature with a childlike joy, her boon companion, finding even in her illusions welcome and relief, — just as one gives himself up to a story or a play, and will not be a doubter. Here he never ages, and he beguiles you and me to share his joy. It does me good to see a poet who knows a bird or flower as one friend knows another, yet loves it for itself alone. I think, also, that The Vision of Sir Launfal owed its success quite as much to a presentation of Nature as to its misty legend. It really is a landscape-poem, of which the lovely passage, "And what is so rare as a day in June ? " and the wintry prelude to Part Second, are the specific features. Like the Legend of Brittany, it was a return to poetry as poetry, and a sign that the author was groping for a theme equal to his reserved strength. Lowell, then, is a poet who seems to represent New England more variously than either of his comrades. We find in his work, as in theirs, her loyalty and moral purpose. She has been at cost for his training, and he, in turn, has read her whole heart, honoring her as a mother before the world, and seeing beauty in her com- mon garb and speech. To him, the Eastern States are what the fathers, as he has said, desired to found, — no New Jerusalem, but a New England, and, if it might be, a better one. His poetry has the strength, the tenderness, and the defects of the Down-East temper. His doctrines and reflections, in the midst of an ethereal distillation, betimes act like the single drop of prose which, as he reports a saying of I^andor to Wordsworth, precipitates the whole. But again he is all poet, and the blithest, most unstudied songster on the old Bay Shore. — Edmund Clakence Stedman, (Jentury Mag. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL, And Other Poems. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. Note by the Author.— According to the mythology of the Romancers, the San Greal, or Holy Grail, was the cup out of which Jesus partook of the last supper with his disciples. It was brought into England by Joseph of Arimathea, and remained there, an object of pilgrimage and adoration, for many years in the keeping of his lineal descendants. It was incumbent upon those who had charge of it to be chaste in thought, word, and deed ; but one of the keepers having broken this condition, the Holy Grail disappeared. From that time it was a favorite en- terprise of the knights of Arthur's court to go in search of it. Sir Galahad was at last successful in finding it, as may be read in the seventeenth book of the Romance of King Arthur. Tennyson has made Sir Galahad the subject of one of the most exquisite of his poems. The plot (if I may give that name to any thing so slight) of the following poem is my own, and, to serve its purposes, I have en- larged the circle of competition in seaich of the miraculous cup in such a manner as to include, not only other persons than the heroes of the Round Table, but also a period of time subsequent to the date of King Arthur's reign. Prelude to Part First. Over his keys the musiug organist, Beginning doubtfully and far away, First lets his fingers wander as they list, And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay : Then, as the touch of his loved instrument 5 Gives hopes and fervor, nearer draws his theme, 9 10 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent Along the wavering vista of his dream. Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie : Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, 5 We Sinais climb and know it not ; Over our manhood bend the skies ; Against our fallen and traitor lives The great winds utter prophecies ; With our faint hearts the mountain strives ; 10 Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite ; And to our age's drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea. Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us ; 15 The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, We bargain for the graves we lie in ; At the Devil's booth are all things sold, Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold ; 20 For a cap and bells our lives we pay. Bubbles we earn with a whole soul's tasking ; 'T is heaven alone that is given away, 'T is only God may be had for the asking ; There is no price set on the lavish summer, 25 And June may be had by the poorest comer. And what is so rare as a day in June ? Then, if ever, come perfect days ; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : 30 12. druid wood. An oak grove was the favorite temple of the Druids, the ancient priests of Britain. 13. benedicite. Blessing, benediction. THE VISION OP SIR LAUNFAL. 11 "Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and tow^ers, And, grasping blindly above it for light, 5 Climbs to a soul for grass and flowers ; The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; The cowslip startles in meadow-s green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 10 And there's never a leaf -or a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace ; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun 15 With the deluge of summer it receives ; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wdngs, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature w^hich song is the best ? 20 Now is the high-tide of the year. And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer, Into every bare inlet and creek and bay ; Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, 25 We are happy now because God so wills it ; No matter how barren the past may have been, 'T is enough for us now^ that the leaves are green ; "We sit in the warm shade and feel right w^ell ; How the sap creeps up and the blossoms sw^ell ; 30 We may shut our eyes, but w^e cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing ; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, Th[it dandelions are blossoming near, 12 THE VISION OF SIB LAUNPaLc That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by ; And if the breeze kept the good news back, For other couriers we should not lack ; 5 We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,— And hark ! how clear bold chanticleer, Warmed with the new wine of the year, Tells all in his lusty crowing ! Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how ; 10 Everything is happy now, Everything is upw^ard striving ; 'T is as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 'T is the natural w^ay of living : 15 Who knows whither the clouds have fled ? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake ; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache ; The soul partakes the season's youth, 20 And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth. Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. What wonder if Sir Launfal now Kemembered the keeping of his vow ? 35 Part First. I. ' ' My golden spurs now bring to me, And bring to me my richest mail, For to-morrow I go over land and sea In search of the Holy Grail ; Shall never a bed for me be spread, 30 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. 13 Nor shall a pillow ])e under my head, Till I begin my vow to keep ; Here on the rushes will I sleep, And perchance there may come a vision true Ere day create the world anew," 5 Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, Slumber fell like a cloud on him, And into his soul the vision flew. II. The crows flapped over by twos and threes, In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees, 10 The little birds sang as if it were The one day of summer in all the year. And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees : The castle alone in the landscape lay Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray ; 15 'T was the proudest hall in the North Countree, And never its gates might opened be. Save to lord or lady of high degree ; Summer besieged it on every side, But the churlish tone her assaults defied ; 20 She could not scale the chilly w'all, Though round it for leagues her pavilions tall Stretched left and right. Over the hills and out of sight ; Green and broad was every tent, 25 And out of each a murmur went Till the breeze fell off at'night. 3. rushes. The floors of an ancient feudal castle were strewn with rushes. 16. North Countree. Northern Enprland. 25. tent. By pavilions above and teiits here trees are of ccurse meant. 14 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. III. The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang, And through the dark arch a charger sprang, Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight, In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright It seemed the dark castle had gathered all 5 Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall In his siege of three hundred summers long. And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf, Had cast them forth ; so, young and strong. And lightsome as a locust leaf, , 10 Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail. To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail. IV. It w^as morning on hill and stream and tree, And morning in the young knight's heart ; Only the castle moodily 15 Rebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free, And gloomed by itself apart ; The season brimmed all other things up Full as the rain fills the pitcher- plant's cup. 19 As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, He was ware of a leper, crouched by the same. Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate ; And a loathing over Sir Launfal came. The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, 24 The flesh 'neath his armor did shrink and crawl, And midway its leap his heart stood still Like a frozen waterfall ; I THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. 15 For this man, so foul and bent of stature, Rasped harshly against his dainty nature. And seemed the one blot on the summer morn, — So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn. VI. The leper raised not the gold from the dust : 5 ' ' Better to me the poor man's crust. Better the blessing of the poor. Though I turn me empty from his door ; That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; He gives nothing but worthless gold 10 Who gives from a sense of duty ; But he who gives a slender mite, And gives to that which is out of sight. That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty AVhich runs through all and doth all unite, — 15 The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, The heart outstretches its eager palms, For a god goes with it and makes it store To tlie soul that was starving in darkness before." Prelude to Part Second. Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak. From the snow five thousand summers old ; 21 On open wold and hill-top bleak It had gathered all the cold, And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek ; It carried a shiver everywhere 25 From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare ; The little brook heard it and built a roof 'Neath which he could house him, winter-proof ; 16 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. All night by the white stars' frosty gleams He groined his arches and matched his beams ; Slender and clear were his crystal spars As the lashes of light that trim the stars ; He sculptured every summer delight 5 In his halls and chambers out of sight ; Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt Down through a frost-leaved forest-crypt, Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees Bending to counterfeit a breeze ; 10 Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew But silvery mosses that downward grew ; Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf ; Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 15 For the gladness of heaven to shine through, and here He had caught the nodding bulrush-tops And hung them thickly with diamond drops, Which crystaled the beams of moon and sun, And made a star of every one : 20 No mortal builder's most rare device Could match this winter-palace of ice ; 'T was as if every image that mirrored lay In his depths serene through the summer day, Each flitting shadow of earth and sky, 25 Lest the happy model should be lost, Had been mimicked in fairy masonry By the elfin builders of the frost. Within the hall are song and laughter, The cheeks of Christmas glow red and jolly, 30 And sprouting is every corbel and rafter With the lightsome green of ivy and holly ; Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFaL. 17 Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide ; The broad flame-pennons droop and flap And belly and tug as a flag in the wind ; Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap, Hunted to death in its galleries blind ; 5 And swift little troops of silent sparks, ITow pausing, now scattering away as in fear, Go threading the soot-forest's tangled darks Like herds of startled deer. But the wind without was eager and sharp, 10 Of Sir Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp, And rattles and wrings The icy string.s, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, 15 Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was — " Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless ! " The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, 1. Yule-log. A great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, brought into the h