ark--in the neighbourhood of Cambridge
University, or of Eton College. And thus he addresses the spirit of
Comatas:

O dear divine Comatas, I would that thou and I
Beneath this broken sunlight this leisure day might lie;
Where trees from distant forests, whose names were strange to thee,
Should bend their amorous branches within thy reach to be,
And flowers thine Hellas knew not, which art hath made more fair,
Should shed their shining petals upon thy fragrant hair.

Then thou shouldst calmly listen with ever-changing looks
To songs of younger minstrels and plots of modern books,
And wonder at the daring of poets later born,
Whose thoughts are unto thy thoughts as noontide is to morn;
And little shouldst them grudge them their greater strength of soul,
Thy partners in the torch-race, though nearer to the goal.

* * * * *

Or in thy cedarn prison thou waitest for the bee:
Ah, leave that simple honey and take thy food from me.
My sun is stooping westward. Entranced dreamer, haste;
There's fruitage in my garden that I would have thee taste.
Now lift the lid a moment; now, Dorian shepherd, speak;
Two minds shall flow together, the English and the Greek.

A few phrases of these beautiful stanzas need explanation. "Broken
sunlight" refers, of course, to the imperfect shade thrown by the trees
under which the poet is lying. The shadow is broken by the light passing
through leaves, or conversely, the light is broken by the interposition of
the leaves. The reference to trees from distant forests no doubt intimates
that the poet is in some botanical garden, a private park, in which
foreign trees are carefully cultivated. The "torch race" is a simile for
the pursuit of knowledge and truth. Greek thinkers compare the
transmission of knowledge from one generation to another, to the passing
of a lighted torch from hand to hand, as in the case of messengers
carrying signals or athletes running a mighty race. As a runner runs until
he is tired, or until he reaches the next station, and then passes the
torch which he has been carrying to another runner waiting to receive it,
so does each generation pass on its wisdom to the succeeding generation,
and disappear. "My sun is stooping westward" is only a beautiful way of
saying, "I am becoming very old; be quick, so that we may see each other
before I die." And the poet suggests that it is because of his age and his
e