E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
HENRY BROCKEN
With a heart of furious fancies,
Whereof I am commander:
With a burning spear,
And a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander;
With a Knight of ghosts and shadows,
I summoned am to Tourney:
Ten leagues beyond
The wide world's end;
Methinks it is no journey.
--ANON. (_Tom o' Bedlam_).
HENRY BROCKEN
His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable
Regions of Romance
by
WALTER J. DE LA MARE
("WALTER RAMAL")
London
John Murray, Albemarle Street, W.
1904
CONTENTS
I. WHITHER?
Come hither, come hither, come hither!
--SHAKESPEARE.
II. LUCY GRAY
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.
--WORDSWORTH.
III. JANE EYRE
I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams ... where
amidst unusual scenes ... I still again and again met Mr.
Rochester;... and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his
voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him,
being loved by him--the hope of passing a lifetime at his side,
would be renewed, with all its first force and fire.
--CHARLOTTE BRONTË (_Jane Eyre_, Ch. xxxii.).
IV. JULIA, ELECTRA, DIANEME
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
ANTHEA--
Now is the time when all the lights wax dim,
And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me
Under the holy-oak or gospel tree;...
Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
In which thy sacred relics shall have room:
For my embalming, sweetest, there will be
No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.
--HERRICK (_Hesperides_).
V. NICK BOTTOM 43
BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out
moonshine, find out moonshine.
--_A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act III., Sc. i.
VI. SLEEPING BEAUTY
VII. & VIII. LEMUEL GULLIVER
I must freely confess that since my last return some corruptions
of my Yahoo nature have revived in me, by conversing with a few of
your species, and particularly those of my own family, by an
unavoidable necessity; else I should never have attempted so
absurd a project as that of reforming the Yahoo race in this
kingdom: but I have done with all such visionary schemes for
ever.--_Gulliver's Letter to his Cousin._
The first money I laid out was to buy two young stone horses,
which I kept in a good stable, and next to them the groom is my
greatest favourite; for I feel my spirits revived by the smell he
contracts in the stable.
--SWIFT (_A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms_, Ch. xi.).
IX. & X. MISTRUST, OBSTINATE, LIAR, ETC.
And as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to
contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I
do?"...
The neighbours also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some
mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return.
ATHEIST--
Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming softly and
alone, all along the highway, to meet them.
--BUNYAN (_The Pilgrim's Progress_).
XI. LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
"O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done."
--KEATS.
XII. SLEEP AND DEATH
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon--
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night--
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon!
--SHELLEY.
XIII. & XIV. A DOCTOR OF PHYSIC
Well, well, well,--
... God, God forgive us all!
--_Macbeth_, Act V., Sc. i.
XV. ANNABEL LEE
I was a child, and she was a child
In this kingdom by the sea;
And we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
--EDGAR ALLAN POE.
XVI. CRISEYDE
... Love hadde his dwellinge
With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yën.
Book I., 304-5.
Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth,
Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;
Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!