intricate knotting of what is a very simple thread of thought. It
was therefore no easy matter to choose something of Campion's for a
collection of the finest work. For an historical book of
representative poetry the question would be easy enough, for there
Campion should appear by his glorious lyric, Cherry Ripe, by one or
two poems of profounder imagination (however imperfect), and by a
madrigal written for the music (however the stanzas may flag in
their quibbling). But the work of choosing among his lyrics for
the sake of beauty shows too clearly the inequality, the brevity of
the inspiration, and the poet's absolute disregard of the moment of
its flight and departure. A few splendid lines may be reason
enough for extracting a short poem, but must not be made to bear
too great a burden.


WHEN THOU MUST HOME


Of the quality of this imaginative lyric there is no doubt. It is
fine throughout, as we confess even after the greatness of the
opening:-

"When thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arrived, a new admired guest--"

It is as solemn and fantastic at the close as at this dark and
splendid opening, and throughout, past description, Elizabethan.
This single poem must bind Campion to that period without question;
and as he lived thirty-six years in the actual reign of Elizabeth,
and printed his Book of Airs with Rosseter two years before her