We will take the sonnet line by line, and make our meaning clear, and we do this earnestly for the sake of a young poet to whom the Anglo-Saxon race owes much, and whom it would be deplorable to see failing, as Kipling appears to be failing, and as Ganzer has failed.
Line 1 is not very striking, but might pass as an introduction; line 2 is sheer pleonasm—after using the word “fate,” you cannot use “fortune,” “accident,” “chance,” as though they were amplifications of your first thought. Moreover, the phrase “by fortune’s turn” has a familiar sound. It is rather an echo than a creation.
In line 3, “craven fears of being great” is taken from Tennyson. The action is legitimate enough. Thus, in Wordsworth’s “Excursion” are three lines taken bodily from “Paradise Lost,” in Kipling’s “Stow it” are whole phrases taken from the Police Gazette, and in Mr. Austin’s verses you may frequently find portions of a Standard leader. Nevertheless, it is a license which a young poet should be chary of. All these others were men of an established reputation before they permitted themselves this liberty.
In line 4, “dishevelled” is a false epithet for “lance”; a lance has no hair; the adjective can only properly be used of a woman, a wild beast, or domestic animal.
In line 5, “incur the hate” is a thoroughly unpoetic phrase—we say so unreservedly. In line 6, we have one of those daring experiments in metre common to our younger poets; therefore we hesitate to pronounce upon it, but (if we may presume to advise) we should give Mr. Mayhem the suggestion made by the Times to Tennyson—that he should stick to an exact metre until he felt sure of his style; and in line 8, “the backward move of your advance” seems a little strained.
It is, however, in the sextet that the chief slips of the sonnet appear, and they are so characteristic of the author’s later errors, that we cannot but note them; thus, “purchased not with gold or Frankincense” is a grievous error. It is indeed a good habit to quote Biblical phrases (a habit which has been the making of half our poets), but not to confuse them: frankincense was never used as coin—even by the Hittites. “Incommensurate” is simply meaningless. How can blood be “incommensurate”? We fear Mr. Mayhem has fallen into the error of polysyllabic effect, a modern pitfall. “Island blood” will, however, stir many a responsive thrill.
The close of the sonnet is a terrible falling off. When you say a thing is purchased, “not with this but——” the reader naturally expects an alternative, instead of which Mr. Mayhem goes right off to another subject! Also (though the allusion to Nelson and Drake is magnificent) the mention of an iron hand and an eye by themselves on a poop seems to us a very violent metaphor.
The last line is bad.
We do not write in this vein to gain any reputation for preciosity, and still less to offend. Mr. Mayhem has many qualities. He has a rare handling of penultimates, much potentiality, large framing; he has a very definite chiaroscuro, and the tones are full and objective; so are the values. We would not restrain a production in which (as a partner in a publishing firm) the present writer is directly interested. But we wish to recall Mr. Mayhem to his earlier and simpler style—to the “Cassowary,” and the superb interrupted seventh of “The Altar Ghoul.”
England cannot afford to lose that talent.