I think that it will be better to take some of his simpler poems first, for study; indeed the longer ones are very difficult and would require much explanation as well as paraphrasing. The shorter ones will better serve the first purpose of showing you how different this man's poetry is from that of any other English poet of the time. The first example will be from "Ballads and Poems of Tragic Life." I need not explain to you the meaning of the word "Tragic." But the tragedies in which Meredith is interested are never tragedies of mere physical pain. There may be some killing in them, but the shedding of blood does not mean the tragedy. "King Harald's Trance" is a good illustration of this. Harald--a name common in Scandinavian history--we may suppose to be a Norwegian Viking. The Vikings of old Norway were the most terrible men that ever lived, but they were also among the grandest and noblest. Their trade was war, their religion was war, their idea of happiness after death was still war--eternal war in heaven, ghostly fighting on the side of the gods. Such an idea of life requires many great qualities as well as natural fearlessness and great physical strength. These men had to learn from childhood not only how to fight, but how to control their passions, for in fighting, you know that the man who first gets angry is almost certain to get beaten. The Norse character was above all things a character of great self-mastery, and the finer qualities of it are those which have also made the finer qualities of both the German and the English speaking races of the modern world. It occurred to the poet Meredith to study such a character among its ancient surroundings, and among the most trying possible circumstances. What could break down such mighty strength? What could conquer such iron hearts? We are going to see. I Sword in length a reaping-hook amain Harald sheared his field, blood up to shank; 'Mid the swathes of slain First at moonrise drank. II Thereof hunger, as for meats the knife, Pricked his ribs, in one sharp spur to reach Home and his young wife, By the sea-ford beach. III After battle keen to feed was he: Smoking flesh the thresher washed down fast, Like an angry sea Ships from keel to mast. IV Name us glory, singer, name us pride Matching Harald's in his deeds of strength; Chiefs, wife, sword by side, Foemen stretched their length! V Half a winter night the toasts hurrahed, Crowned him, clothed him, trumpeted him high, Till a wink he bade Wife to chamber fly.