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and buzzing that went round that more celebrities had arrived。 The first
personage I saw was Homer； blind no more； leading by a golden chain the
white…beaked ships of the Achaians bobbing their heads and squawking
like so many white swans。 Plato and Mother Goose with the numerous
children of the shoe came next。 Simple Simon； Jill； and Jack who had had
his head mended； and the cat that fell into the cream……all these danced
in a giddy reel； while Plato solemnly discoursed on the laws of
Topsyturvy Land。 Then followed grim…visaged Calvin and 〃violet…crowned；
sweet…smiling Sappho〃 who danced a Schottische。 Aristophanes and Moliere
joined for a measure； both talking at once； Moliere in Greek and
Aristophanes in German。 I thought this odd； because it occurred to me
that German was a dead language before Aristophanes was born。
Bright…eyed Shelley brought in a fluttering lark which burst into the
song of Chaucer's chanticleer。 Henry Esmond gave his hand in a stately
minuet to Diana of the Crossways。 He evidently did not understand her
nieenth century wit； for he did not laugh。 Perhaps he had lost his
taste for clever women。 Anon Dante and Swedenborg came together
conversing earnestly about things remote and mystical。 Swedenborg said
it was very warm。 Dante replied that it might rain in the night。
Suddenly there was a great clamour； and I found that 〃The Battle of the
Books〃 had begun raging anew。 Two figures entered in lively dispute。 One
was dressed in plain homespun and the other wore a scholar's gown over a
suit of motley。 I gathered from their conversation that they were Cotton
Mather and William Shakspere。 Mather insisted that the witches in
〃Macbeth〃 should be caught and hanged。 Shakspere replied that the
witches had already suffered enough at the hands of mentators。 They
were pushed aside by the twelve knights of the Round Table； who marched
in bearing on a salver the goose that laid golden eggs。 〃The Pope's
Mule〃 and 〃The Golden Bull〃 had a bat of history and fiction such as
I had read of in books； but never before witnessed。 These little animals
were put to rout by a huge elephant which lumbered in with Rudyard
Kipling riding high on its trunk。 The elephant changed suddenly to 〃a
rakish craft。〃 （I do not know what a rakish craft is； but this was very
rakish and very crafty。） It must have been abandoned long ago by wild
pirates of the southern seas； for clinging to the rigging； and jovially
cheering as the ship went down； I made out a man with blazing eyes； clad
in a velveteen jacket。 As the ship disappeared from sight； Falstaff
rushed to the rescue of the lonely navigator……and stole his purse！ But
Miranda persuaded him to give it back。 Stevenson said； 〃Who steals my
purse steals trash。〃 Falstaff laughed and called this a good joke； as
good as any he had heard in his day。
This was the signal for a rushing swarm of quotations。 They surged to
and fro； an inchoate throng of half finished phrases； mutilated
sentences； parodied sentiments； and brilliant metaphors。 I could not
distinguish any phrases or ideas of my own making。 I saw a poor； ragged；
shrunken sentence that might have been mine own catch the wings of a
fair idea with the light of genius shining like a halo about its head。
Ever and anon the dancers changed partners without invitation or
permission。 Thoughts fell in love at sight； married in a measure； and
joined hands without previous courtship。 An incongruity is the wedding
of two thoughts which have had no reasonable courtship； and marriages
without wooing are apt to lead to domestic discord； even to the breaking
up of an ancient； time…honoured family。 Among the wedded couples were
certain similes hitherto inviolable in their bachelorhood and
spinsterhood； and held in great respect。 Their extraordinary proceedings
nearly broke up the dance。 But the fatuity of their union was evident to
them； and they parted。 Other similes seemed to have the habit of living
in discord。 They had been many times married and divorced。 They belonged
to the notorious society of Mixed Metaphors。
A pany of phantoms floated in and out wearing tantalizing garments
of oblivion。 They seemed about to dance； then vanished。 They reappeared
half a dozen times； but never unveiled their faces。 The imp Curiosity
pulled Memory by the sleeve and said； 〃Why do they run away？ 'Tis
strange knavery！〃 Out ran Memory to capture them。 After a great deal of
racing and puffing and collision it apprehended some of the fugitives
and brought them in。 But when it tore off their masks； lo！ some were
disappointingly monplace； and others were gipsy quotations trying to
conceal the punctuation marks that belonged to them。 Memory was much
chagrined to have had such a hard chase only to catch this sorry lot of
graceless rogues。
Into the rabble strode four stately giants who called themselves
History； Philosophy； Law； and Medicine。 They seemed too solemn and
imposing to join in a masque。 But even as I gazed at these formidable
guests； they all split into fragments which went whirling； dancing in
divisions； subdivisions； re…subdivisions of scientific nonsense！ History
split into philology； ethnology； anthropology； and mythology； and these
again split finer than the splitting of hairs。 Each speciality hugged
its bit of knowledge and waltzed it round and round。 The rest of the
pany began to nod； and I felt drowsy myself。 To put an end to the
solemn gyrations； a troop of fairies mercifully waved poppies over us
all； the masque faded； my head fell； and I started。 Sleep had wakened
me。 At my elbow I found my old friend Bottom。
〃Bottom；〃 I said； 〃I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what
dream it was。 Methought I was……there is no man can tell what。 The eye of
man hath not heard； the ear of man hath not seen； his hand is not able
to taste； his tongue to conceive； nor his heart to report what my dream
was。〃
A CHANT OF DARKNESS
A CHANT OF DARKNESS
〃_My wings are folded o'er mine ears；
My wings are crossed o'er mine eyes；
Yet through their silver shade appears；
And through their lulling plumes arise；
A Shape； a throng of sounds。_〃
_Shelley's 〃Prometheus Unbound。〃_
I DARE not ask why we are reft of light；
Banished to our solitary isles amid the unmeasured seas；
Or how our sight was nurtured to glorious vision；
To fade and vanish and leave us in the dark alone。
The secret of God is upon our tabernacle；
Into His mystery I dare not pry。 Only this I know：
With Him is strength； with Him is wisdom；
And His wisdom hath set darkness in our paths。
_Out of the uncharted； unthinkable dark we came；
And in a little time we shall return again
Into the vast； unanswering dark。_
O Dark！ thou awful； sweet； and holy Dark！
In thy solemn spaces； beyond the human eye；
God fashioned His universe； laid the foundations of the earth；
Laid the measure thereof； and stretched the line upon it；
Shut up the sea with doors； and made t