Satan, yawning on his brazen seat, Fondles a screaming thing his fiends have flayed. In point of fact, the poor Philistine himself yawns as he reads about it; he is not shocked at all. It is comprehensible how there may be such a thing as a mollycoddle, but how one can pretend to be a mollycoddle when one is not—that must be accepted as the most surprising hypocrisy that we have the happiness to know about. Having affirmed the greatness of Mr. Sterling, I am austerely reminded by a half hundred commentators, some of whom profess admiration for “A Wine of Wizardry,” that a single poem, of whatever excellence, does not establish the claim. Like nearly all the others, these gentlemen write without accuracy, from a general impression. They overlook the circumstance that I pointed out a book by Sterling, published several years ago, entitled _The Testimony of the Suns, and Other Poems_. What, then, becomes of the “single poem” sneer? To its performers nothing that they have not seen exists. That book is dedicated to me—a fact that has been eagerly seized upon by still another class of critics to “explain” my good opinion of its author; for nothing is so welcome to our literary hill-tribes as a chance to cheat by ascription of a foul motive. But it happens, unhappily for the prosperity of their hope, that the dedication was made in gratitude for my having already set the crown of praise upon its author’s head. I will quote the first lines of the dedication, not only in proof of this, but to show the noble seriousness and sincerity with which a great poet regards his ministry at the altar of his art: Ah! glad to thy decree I bow, From whose unquestioned hand did fall, Beyond a lesser to recall, The solemn laurels on my brow. I tremble with the splendid weight. To my unworth ’tis given to know How dread the charge I undergo Who claim the holy Muse as mate. It is to be hoped that Mr. Sterling’s reverent attitude toward his art has suffered no abatement from his having been thrown to the swine for allegiance to an alien faith hateful to his countrymen. [2] Mr. Arthur Brisbane. MONTAGUES AND CAPULETS