m of the many.

Byron is only an instance in point. Bygone poetry has little or no
attraction for modern readers. This poem or that drama may be referred
to, and occasionally examined in the interests of general culture, or in
support of a particular belief or line of conduct, as a classical or
quasi-scriptural authority; but, with the rarest exceptions, plays and
narrative poems are not read spontaneously or with any genuine
satisfaction or delight. An old-world poem which will not yield up its
secret to the idle _reader_ "of an empty day" is more or less "rudely
dismissed," without even a show of favour or hospitality.

And yet these forgotten works of the imagination are full of hidden
treasures! There is not one of Byron's "impressionist studies" of
striking episodes of history or historical legend, flung, as it were,
with a "Take it or leave it" in the face of friend or foe, which does
not transform names and shadows into persons and substance, which does
not contain lines and passages of unquestionable beauty and distinction.

But some would have it that Byron's plays, as a whole, are dull and
uninspiring, monotonous harpings on worn-out themes, which every one has
mastered or wishes to forget. A close study of the text, together with
some knowledge of the subject as it presented itself to the author and
arrested _his_ attention, may compel these impatient critics to a
different conclusion. Byron did not scruple to refer the reader to his
"sources," and was at pains to publish, in the notes and appendices to
his dramas and poems, long extracts from old chronicles, from Plutarch's
_Lives_, from French and Italian histories, which he had read himself,
and, as he fondly believed, would be read by others, who were willing to
submit themselves to his guidance. He expected his readers to take some
trouble and to display some intelligence.

Poetry is successful only so far as it is intelligible. To a clear cry
an answer comes, but not to a muffled call. The reader who comes within
speaking distance of his author can hear him, and to bring the living
within speaking distance of the dead, the living must know the facts,
and understand the ideas which informed and inspired the dead. Thought
and attention are scarcely to be reckoned among necromantic arts, but
thought and knowledge "can make these bones live," and stand upon their
feet, if they do not leap and sing.

I desire to renew my acknowledgments of the generous a