nity that dwells in, that breathes in, that
is, all things and more than all. Who could wish Virgil to be one of the
spirits that

_Lethaeum ad flumen Dues evocat agmine magno_,

that are called once more to the Lethean stream, and that once more,
forgetful of their home, "into the world and wave of men depart?"

There will come no other Virgil, unless his soul, in accordance with his
own philosophy, is among us to-day, crowned with years and honours, the
singer of "Ulysses," of the "Lotus Eaters," of "Tithonus," and "OEnone."

So, after all, I have been enthusiastic, "maugre my head," as Malory
says, and perhaps, Lady Violet, I have shown you why it is "right" to
admire Virgil, and perhaps I have persuaded nobody but myself.

P.S.--Mr. Coleridge was no great lover of Virgil, inconsistently. "If
you take from Virgil his diction and metre, what do you leave him?" Yet
Mr. Coleridge had defined poetry as "the _best_ words, in the best
order"--that is, "diction and metre." He, therefore, proposed to take
from Virgil his poetry, and then to ask what was left of the Poet!

AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE

_To the Lady Violet Lebas_.

Dear Lady Violet,--I do not wonder that you are puzzled by the language
of the first French novel. The French of "Aucassin et Nicolette" is not
French after the school of Miss Pinkerton, at Chiswick. Indeed, as the
little song-story has been translated into modern French by M. Bida, the
painter (whose book is very scarce), I presume even the countrywomen of
Aucassin find it difficult. You will not expect me to write an essay on
the grammar, nor would you read it if I did. The chief thing is that "s"
appears as the sign of the singular, instead of being the sign of the
plural, and the nouns have cases.

The story must be as old as the end of the twelfth century, and must have
received its present form in Picardy. It is written, as you see, in
alternate snatches of verse and prose. The verse, which was chanted, is
not rhymed as a rule, but each _laisse_, or screed, as in the "Chanson de
Roland," runs on the same final assonance, or vowel sound throughout.

So much for the form. Who is the author? We do not know, and never
shall know. Apparently he mentions himself in the first lines:

"Who would listen to the lay,
Of the captive old and gray;"

for this is as much sense as one can make out of _del deport du viel
caitif_.

The author, then, was an old fellow. I t