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arms barque battle beautiful blank verse blood breath brow burning Canto child cries Crown 8vo dark dawn dead death deep drama dreadful dream Drury Lane earth East Eastern England English evermore eyes face fate father fire flame foam Gaul gaze Gilbert girl glory gold grave Haidee hand hast thou hath heard heart heaven hour human immortal JEPHTHAH JOHN LANE kiss Lambeth light London town lonely lyre maiden Marpessa memories midnight mighty moon mortal mother murmured never night o'er PANAMA pass peril pillow POEMS poet quail reel seemed Semele Senlac Hill shore sigh silence soul speak splendid splendour stars Stephen Phillips strange Styx sudden sweet sweetly thee thing Thou art thou didst thou dost thou hast thought thunder to-night TRIPOLI unto voice wandering wave whate'er whisper whist wild William Archer woman word wound
Page 158 - A thing of exquisite poetic form, yet tingling from first to last with intense dramatic life. Mr. Phillips has achieved the impossible. Sardou could not have ordered the action more skilfully, Tennyson could not have clothed the passion in words of purer loveliness.
Page 156 - DAILY TELEGRAPH.—" It is a grateful task to discover in the new volume many indications of that truly poetic insight, that vigorous expression of idea, that sense of literary power and mastery which have already made Mr. Stephen Phillips famous.
Page 155 - Mr. Phillips is a poet, one of the half-dozen men of the younger generation, whose writings contain the indefinable quality which makes for permanence,
Page 156 - It is a grateful task to discover in the new volume many indications of that truly poetic insight, that vigorous expression of idea, that sense of literary power and mastery which have already made Mr. Stephen Phillips famous. . . . There is a...
Page 29 - Ulysses" still Hissed sweetly, privately, the livelong night. Ah! but thou hear'st me not, canst only hear A roar of memories, and for thee this house Still plunges and takes the sea-spray evermore. Yet come! How thou art weary none can tell, How wise, how sad, how deaf to babbled words. Yet come, and fold me, not as in old nights, But now with perils kiss me, wind me round With wonder, murmur magic in my ear, And clasp me with the world, with nothing less!
Page 48 - ... What of that Empire now but lonely stone ? The Roman his discovered world amassed, And high on his seven hills empurpled sat; Yet, rotting from within, his rule decayed. Others have builded since; and strongest he Who the old map of Europe folded up; Yet printless on the sands of time his feet. Now all those tumbled cities are re-risen, The grass re-blows o'er all his battle-fields. And verdure greener from that crimson blood. A name, a haunting face, and there an end! An arch triumphal, and...
Page 55 - EASY the cry, while vengeance now is wrought, And from his lair the Anarchist is burned; "Shut be our harbours, closed be every port, And from our shore be every alien turned!" Yet while the clamour and pursuit is hot, And public anger public madness breeds, Be it not soon nor easily forgot That England thus an ancient title cedes. For centuries a pillow hath she spread For all that widowed goes, and wandering; And in her lap hath laid the unhappy head Of broken statesman, and of outcast King. Shall...
Page 96 - ... But sudden a dry land caught fire like grass, And answer hurtled but from shell and steel. He looked for silence but a thunder came ; Upon him from Liege a leaden hail ! All Belgium flew up at his throat in flame, Till at her gates amazed his legions quail ! Take heed, for now on haunted ground thy There bowed a mightier War-Lord to his fall ; Fear!