Page 92, l. 15 [Stz. 315]. “_And so tow’rds Callice brauely marching on._” --This is certainly a flat conclusion. It is surprising that Drayton made no use of the appearance of the herald Montjoy on the field, with confession of defeat and appeal for-- “Charitable licence, That we may wander o’er this bloody field To book our dead, and then to bury them.” _Henry V._, act iv., sc. 7. TO MY FRINDS THE CAMBER-BRITANS AND THEYR HARP. It has already been observed in the Introduction that this grand lyric gave the model for Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” This latter poem appears along with “Maud,” and another piece in the same slender volume contains unequivocal proof of the Laureate’s acquaintance with Drayton. In the powerful poem entitled “Will” occur the lines-- “Sown in a wrinkle of the _monstrous_ hill, The city sparkles like a grain of salt.” In a passage of Song IX. of the “Polyolbion,” excerpted by Mr. Bullen, Drayton says-- “The mightie Giant-heape so less and lesser still Appeareth to the eye, untill the _monstrous_ hill At length shewes like a cloud; and further being cast, Is out of kenning quite.” The identity of epithet might possibly be accidental, but the resemblance extends to the entire passage. A singularly beautiful stanza from Drayton’s “Barons’ Warres,” also in Mr. Bullen’s selection, must have been unconsciously present to Shelley’s mind when he wrote in “The Witch of Atlas”-- “While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece Of sandal wood, rare gems, and cinnamon. Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is; Each flame of it is as a precious stone Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this Belongs to each and all who gaze thereon.” Drayton writes: “The Fire of precious Wood, the Light Perfume Which left a sweetnesse on each thing it shone, As every thing did to it selfe assume The Sent from them and made the same their owne So that the painted Flowres within the Roome Were sweet, as if they naturally had growne; The Light gave Colours, which upon them fell, And to the Colours the Perfume gave smell.” A still stronger proof of the extent to which Shelley had unconsciously imbibed the spirit of Drayton is afforded by a comparison of the noble speech of Fame in “The tragicall legend of Robert Duke of Normandie” (Bullen, pp. 25, 27) with Shelley’s still finer “Hymn of Apollo.” There is hardly any instance of direct verbal resemblance; but the metre, the strain of sentiment, the oratorical pose, the mental and moral attitude of the two poems are so much alike as to justify the assertion that the younger owes its form and much of its spirit to the older. The following is the Roxburghe version of the ballad of the Dauphin’s present of tennis-balls, mentioned at p. 106:--