Altogether, Miss Peabody’s first book of verse revealed strength, feeling, and imagination, though tentative in its philosophy, as the initial work of a young poet must necessarily be, and having but a slight rooting in life. The second volume, _Fortune and Men’s Eyes_, opens with a cleverly written one-act play, turning upon an adventure of two maids of honor at Elizabeth’s court, with Master W. S., a player, whose identity is not far to seek, and William Herbert, son of the Earl of Pembroke, the scene being laid at the tavern of the Bear and the Angel, whither Mistress Anne Hughes and Mary Fyton have resorted on a merry escapade under cover of seeing the people celebrate the fête of the Bear. The atmosphere of the time is well reproduced, the dialogue of the tapsters cleverly done, and the final scene between the Player and Mary is full of dramatic intensity. In her second volume, Miss Peabody has also a dramatic monologue called, “The Wingless Joy,” which, though now and again Browningesque in tone, has many felicitous images and shows a true insight into human motive. The lyrics in the second volume form a less important part of the collection, though there are several, such as “The Source,” “The Survivor,” “Psyche in the Niche,” and “In the Silence,” which rank with Miss Peabody’s best work, particularly the last, illustrating the truth that the Spirit manifests at the need, even the dumb and undivining need, and not alone at the call: Where did’st Thou tarry, Lord, Lord, Who heeded not my prayer? All the long day, all the long night, I stretched my hands to air. “There was a bitterer want than thine Came from the frozen North; Laid hands upon my garment’s hem And led me forth. “It was a lonely Northern man, Where there was never tree To shed its comfort on his heart, There he had need of me. “He kindled us a little flame To hope against the storm; And unto him, and unto me, The light was warm.” And yet I called Thee, Lord, Lord— Who answered not, nor came: All the long day, and yesterday, I called Thee by Thy name. “There was a dumb, unhearing grief Spake louder than Thy word, There was a heart called not on me, But yet I heard. “The sorrow of a savage man Shaping him gods, alone, Who found no love in the shapen clay To answer to his own. “His heart knew what his eyes saw not He bade me stay and eat; And unto him, and unto me, The cup was sweet. “Too long we wait for thee and thine, In sodden ways and dim, And where the man’s need cries on me There have I need of him. “Along the borders of despair Where sparrows seek no nest, Nor ravens food, I sit at meat,— The Unnamed Guest.”