“Trois mille six cents fois par heure, la seconde Chuchote “_Souviens-toi!_”――Rapide avec sa voix D’insecte, maintenant dit: Je suis autrefois, Et j’ai pompé ta vie avec ma trompe immonde!” Another poem in “Les Fleurs du Mal” contains not only two verses appropriated from “A Psalm of Life,” but curiously weaves in with them a verse from Gray’s “Elegy in a Country Church-yard.” This piece of patchwork is entitled―― LE GUIGNON. Pour soulever un poids si lourd, Sisyphe, il faudrait ton courage! Bien qu’on ait du cœur à l’ouvrage, L’Art est long, et le Temps est court. Loin des sépultures célèbres, Vers un cimetière isolé, Mon cœur, comme un tambour voilé, Va battant des marches funèbres. ―― Maint joyau dort enseveli Dans les ténèbres et l’oubli, Bien loin des pioches et des sondes; ―― Maint fleur épanche à regret Son parfum doux comme un secret Dans les solitudes profondes.[1] Beaudelaire himself admits that “Le Calumet de Paix” is an imitation of Longfellow, it is, in fact, a translation of _The Peace-Pipe_ in “The Song of Hiawatha,” and opens thus:―― “Or Gitche Manito, le Maître de la Vie, Le Puissant, descendit dans la verte prairie, Dans l’immense prairie aux coteaux montueux; Et là, sur les rochers de la Rouge Carrière, Dominant tout l’espace et baigné de lumière, Il se tenait debout, vaste et majestueux.” The spirit of the original poem is fairly well rendered throughout, but the exigencies of French rhyme do not admit the versification of “Hiawatha.” Whilst on the topic of paraphrases, it might be asked whether Longfellow did not borrow his line―― “Tell me not in mournful numbers,” from “Singet nicht in Trauertönen,” in Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_?” It should have been mentioned that the parody quoted on page 88, Part VI., entitled “The Close of the Season,” originally appeared in _Punch_, August 8, 1868, under the title, “Flight,” also, that a political parody of “The Bridge” was contained in _Punch_, July 8, 1865. [Illustration] Edgar Allan Poe. [Illustration: W]eird, thrilling, and mysterious as are the poems and novels of this unfortunate man of genius, nothing that he ever wrote could call up the emotions of pity and regret more powerfully than the melancholy story of his own wayward career, and his sad and early death. Much has recently been written about Poe, and no difficulty can be found in learning all that is known, with any certainty, of his singular career; but an impenetrable veil of mystery still obscures the record of several years of his life, in spite of all the research of his numerous biographers.