is as jolly a bit of Bohemianism as any I know, and the entire story is told with much spirit and humor. "St. Peray," another bacchanalian lyric, has found its way, like the "Lines on a Bust on Dante," into the anthologies, and may be passed by here with a mere reference.
"Count Ernst von Mansfeldt, the Protestant," if three rather weak and quite unnecessary stanzas could be removed from it, would be, perhaps, the strongest poem Parsons ever wrote. It is certainly the most objective, and one of the most manly and vigorous.
"The dicer Death has flung for me;
His greedy eyes are on me;
My chance is not one throw in three;
Ere night he will have won me.
"Summon my kin!—come steed—come coach—
Let me not stay, commanding;
If the last enemy approach,
They shall see me armed and standing.
"Buckle me well and belt me strong!
For I will fall in iron."
This, with the stirring "Martial Ode," which begins,
"Ancient of days! Thy prophets old
Declared Thee also Lord of war;
And sacred chroniclers have told
Of kings whom Thou didst battle for,"
proves that Parsons knew how to put into practice that strenuous counsel of his own:
"But something rough and resolute and sour
Should with the sweetness of the soul combine;
For although gentleness be part of power,
'Tis only strength makes gentleness divine."
With the masterly technical power and equipment that Parsons undoubtedly had, why did he not do more? Why is his permanent original contribution to English literature limited to a few lyrics? For this I can find no better reason than that which I have already suggested, that, being out of sympathy with his time, he found no theme for his song. The achievements of this age he admired, when at all, as an outsider, and frequently his attitude was the reverse of admiration. Homers must have their Agamemnons as well as Agamemnons their Homers; and to-day was not heroic to Parsons. To him the railway suggested nothing but