Fantastic, too, but with more of a
recognisable human setting, is "Golden Wings," which to a slight degree
reminds one of Theophile Gautier's _Chateau de Souvenir_.
"The apples now grow green and sour
Upon the mouldering castle wall,
Before they ripen there they fall:
There are no banners on the tower,
The draggled swans most eagerly eat
The green weeds trailing in the moat;
Inside the rotting leaky boat
You see a slain man's stiffen'd feet."
These, with "The Sailing of the Sword," are my own old favourites. There
was nothing like them before, nor will be again, for Mr. Morris, after
several years of silence, abandoned his early manner. No doubt it was
not a manner to persevere in, but happily, in a mood and a moment never
to be re-born or return, Mr. Morris did fill a fresh page in English
poetry with these imperishable fantasies. They were absolutely neglected
by "the reading public," but they found a few staunch friends. Indeed, I
think of "Guenevere" as FitzGerald did of Tennyson's poems before 1842.
But this, of course, is a purely personal, probably a purely capricious,
estimate. Criticism may aver that the influence of Mr. Rossetti was
strong on Mr. Morris before 1858. Perhaps so, but we read Mr. Morris
first (as the world read the "Lay" before "Christabel"), and my own
preference is for Mr. Morris.
It was after eight or nine years of silence that Mr.
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