literature is extremely valuable, but there is absolutely no excuse for
shrieking 'Shillelagh!' and 'O Gorrah!'

Women must Weep, by Professor Harald Williams, has the most dreadful
cover of any book that we have come across for some time past. It is
possibly intended to symbolise the sorrow of the world, but it merely
suggests the decorative tendencies of an undertaker and is as depressing
as it is detestable. However, as the cowl does not make the monk, so the
binding, in the case of the Savile Club school, does not make the poet,
and we open the volume without prejudice. The first poem that we come to
is a vigorous attack on those wicked and misguided people who believe
that Beauty is its own reason for existing, and that Art should have no
other aim but her own perfection. Here are some of the Professor's
gravest accusations:

Why do they patch, in their fatal choice,
When at secrets such the angels quake,
But a play of the Vision and the Voice?--
Oh, it's all for Art's sake.

Why do they gather what should be left,
And leave behind what they ought to take,
And exult in the basest blank or theft?--
Oh, it's all for Art's sake.

It certainly must be admitted that to 'patch' or to 'exult in the basest
blank' is a form of conduct quite unbefitting an artist, the very
obscurity and incomprehensible character of such a crime adding something
to its horror. However, while fully recognising the wickedness of
'patching' we cannot but think that Professor Harald Williams is happier
in his criticism of life than he is in his art criticism. His poem
Between the Banks, for instance, has a touch of sincerity and fine
feeling that almost atones for its over-emphasis.

Mr. Buchan's blank verse drama Joseph and His Brethren bears no
resemblance to that strange play on the same subject which Mr. Swinburne
so much admires. Indeed, it may be said to possess all the fatal
originality of inexperience. However, Mr. Buchan does not leave us in
any doubt about his particular method of writing. 'As to the dialogue,'
he says, 'I have put the language of real life into the mouths of the
speakers, except when they may be supposed to be under strong emotion;
then their utterances become more rapid--broken--figurative--in short
more poetical.' Well, here is the speech of Potiphar's wife under strong
emotion:

ZULEEKHA (seizing him). Love me! or death!
Ha! dost thou think thou wilt n