st be pronounced as a
dissyllable; but the French cry was more probably _tuez_.

Page 85, l. 28 [Stz. 289]. "_Base._" --Run as at prisoners' base.
Murray's "Dictionary" cites one example of the use of the word in this
sense, which is from Warner's "Albion's England," a poem read and
admired by Drayton.

Page 87, l. 27 [Stz. 297]. "_Clunasse._" --A misprint for _Clamasse_.

Page 87, l. 27. "_Dorpe_" = thorpe, a word revived by Tennyson in "The
Brook."

Page 88, ll. 17, 18 [Stz. 300]. "_And in his rage he instantly commands,
That euery English should his prisoner kill._"--

"I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant."

_Henry V._, act iv., sc. 7.

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.