PROM ELIZABETH TO VICTORIA </center> I could not be much concerned about the unwillingness to give me a new sonnet which Rossetti at first exhibited, for I knew full well that sooner or later the sonnet would come. Not that I recognised in him the faintest scintillation of the affectation so common among authors as to the publication of work. But the fear of any appearance of collusion between himself and his critics was, as he said, a bugbear that constantly haunted him. Owing to this, a stranger often stood a better chance of securing his ready and open co-operation than the most intimate of friends. I frequently yielded to his desire that in anything that I might write his name should not be mentioned--too frequently by far, to my infinite vexation at the time, and now to my deep and ineradicable regret. The sonnet-book out of which arose much of the correspondence printed in this chapter, contains in its preface and notes hardly an allusion to him, and yet he was, in my judgment, out of all reach and sight, the greatest sonnet-writer of his time. The sonnet first sent was _Pride of Youth_, but as this formed part of _The House of Life_ series, it was withdrawn, and _Raleigh’s Cell in the Tower_ was substituted The following hitherto unpublished sonnet was also contributed but withdrawn at the last moment, because of its being out of harmony with the sonnets selected to accompany it: ON CERTAIN ELIZABETHAN REVIVALS. O ruff-embastioned vast Elizabeth, Bush to these bushel-bellied casks of wine, Home-growth, ‘tis true, but rank as turpentine,-- What would we with such skittle-plays at death % Say, must we watch these brawlers’ brandished lathe, Or to their reeking wit our ears incline, Because all Castaly flowed crystalline In gentle Shakspeare’s modulated breath! What! must our drama with the rat-pit vie, Nor the scene close while one is left to kill! Shall this be poetry % And thou--thou--man Of blood, thou cannibalic Caliban, What shall be said to thee?--a poet?--Fie! “An honourable murderer, if you will” I mentioned to you [he says] William Davies, author of _Songs of a Wayfarer_ (by the bye, another man has since adopted his title). He has many excellent sonnets, and is a valued friend of mine. I shall send you, on his behalf, a copy of the book for selection of what you may please.... It is very unequal, but the best truly excellent. The sonnets are numerous, and some good, though the best work in the book is not among them. There are two poems--_The Garden_, and another called, I think, _On a dried-up Spring_, which are worthy of the most fastidious collections. Many of the poems are unnamed, and the whole has too much of a Herrick air. . . .