wherein (quite after the modern fleshly style) the whole business of love is chronicled in sublime and daring metaphor:—
"Then will I visit with a wandering kiss
The bower of roses and the grove of bliss,
Thence, passing o'er thy snowy Appenine,
Retire into thy grove of eglantine."[1]
Sonnet V. is our favourite already quoted, "Nuptial Sleep," and Sonnet VI., or "Supreme Surrender," tells us how—
"To all the spirits of love that wander by,
Along the love-sown fallow field of sleep
My lady lies apparent; and the deep
Calls to the deep; and no one sees but I."
There is also this dainty touch about her hand:—
"First touched, the hand now warm around my neck
Taught memory long to mock desire."
Sonnet VII., "Love's Lovers," is meaningless, but in the best manner of Carew and Dr. Donne; and the same may be said of Sonnet VIII., "Passion and Worship." Sonnet IX., "The Portrait," is a good sonnet and good poetry, despite the epithets of "mouth's mould" and "long lithe throat." Sonnet X., the "Love Letter," is fleshly and affected, but stops short of nastiness. Sonnet XI. is also innocuous. Sonnets XII, to XX. are one profuse sweat of animalism, containing, amongst other gems, this euphuistic description of a kissing match:—
"Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed
On cheeks, and neck, and eyelids, and so led
Back to her mouth which answers there for all;"
- ↑ For a production quite in our modern manner, the reader had better refer to this extraordinary poem. I dare not quote another word.
