Shakespeare dreamed you, Ariel,
In a poet's ecstasy.
I have loved and dare not tell
Of your being's mystery.
Ariel, from Shakespeare's dream
Flown into my love on earth,
You shall help me to redeem
Love and truth denied their birth.
In a world by Caliban
Brutalised and done to death,
We will weave a spell that Man
May in freedom draw his breath.
CONTENTS
| CHAP. | |
| I. | [A DESCENT ON LONDON] |
| II. | [THE DWELLERS IN ENCHANTMENT] |
| III. | [IMPERIUM] |
| IV. | [BEHIND THE SCENES] |
| V. | [THE OTHER WOMAN] |
| VI. | [BIRDS AND FISHES] |
| VII. | [SUPPER] |
| VIII. | [SOLITUDE] |
| IX. | [MAGIC] |
| X. | [THE ENGLISH LAKES] |
| XI. | [CHARING CROSS ROAD] |
| XII. | [RODD AT HOME] |
| XIII. | [THE TEMPEST] |
| XIV. | [VERSCHOYLE FORGETS HIMSELF] |
| XV. | [IN BLOOMSBURY] |
| XVI. | [ARIEL] |
| XVII. | [SUCCESS] |
| XVIII. | [LOVE] |
I
A DESCENT ON LONDON
On a day in August, in one of those swiftly-moving years which hurried Europe towards the catastrophe awaiting it, there arrived in London a couple of unusual appearance, striking, charming, and amusing. The man was tall, big, and queerly compounded of sensitive beauty and stodgy awkwardness. He entered London with an air of hostility; sniffed distastefully the smells of the station, peered in distress through the murky light, and clearly by his personality and his exploitation of it in his dress challenged the uniformity of the great city which was his home. His dress was peculiar: an enormous black hat above a shock of wispy fair hair, an ill-cut black coat, a cloak flung back over his shoulders, a very high starched collar, abominable trousers, and long, pointed French boots.
'But they have rebuilt the station!' he said, in a loud voice of almost peevish disapproval.