"ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. "MY DEAR SWINBURNE, "Accept the unequal exchange--my brass for your gold. Your 'Poems and Ballads' began to teach the Philister what might there is in the music of language, and what the marvel of lyric inspiration, far subtler and more ethereal than mere poetry, means to the mind of man. "Without more ado, allow me to excuse this 'transaction' by a something which comes from the East-- "'A poor man, passing by one day when his King travelled, brought him a little water with both hands, saying, "Drink, my lord, for the heat is great." He accepted it gladly from him, not looking to the small quality of that service, but only to the good will with which it was offered.' "Believe me ever, "Your old friend and fellow-traveller, "RICHARD F. BURTON. "Desterro, Trieste, "September 25th, 1884." * * * * * "The Pines, Putney Hill, S.W., "November 7th, 1884. "MY DEAR BURTON, "Your dedication makes me very proud, and the kindness of its terms gives me still a heartier pleasure than that of mere pride in your friendship. Thanks to you both, and notably to Frances H----" [me] "for her letter, or rather your joint one of the 10th, which has now been followed by the arrival of the two volumes. They are yet more interesting (naturally) to me than their precursors.... "The learning and research of your work are in many points beyond all praise of mine, but not more notable than the strength and skill that wield them. I am hungrily anticipating the 'Arabian Nights.' You both know how we look forward to our next meeting with you, when you _shall_ not run away so soon as you did last time. "Both of yours always, "A. C. SWINBURNE." * * * * * "The Pines, Putney Hill, S.W., "April 13th, 1881. "MY DEAR MRS. BURTON, "I am horribly ashamed to find that my letter of thanks to you on the arrival of the 'Lusiads,' which I quite thought had been at once written and despatched (this is the real honest truth, and not a lying after-thought to excuse myself), never went or existed at all, but remained in the limbo of good intentions. I cannot tell how, for I distinctly remember the very words I meant to send, and thought I had sent, of congratulations to Burton on having in that translation, as I think, matched Byron on his own chosen ground as a translator, and beaten him at his own weapon. The version of Pulci's 'Morgante,' on which Byron prided himself so greatly as being, in his own words, the best translation that ever was or will be made, is an infinitely less important, and I should think less difficult attempt on exactly the same lines of work, and certainly, to say the least, not more successful, as far as one can judge, without knowledge of Camoens in the original language. "With best remembrances to both of you. "Ever faithfully yours, "A. C. SWINBURNE."