Sometimes we fall upon lines that we fancy we have heard before—as these, for instance, which anybody might claim and not be proud of:
“The merry village with its sheltering trees,
The peaceful cattle browsing o’er the leas,
The hardy shepherd whistling on the plain
With his white flock, by fields of ripened grain,” etc., etc.
And here are lines which we fancy Mr. Tennyson might with justice claim:
“… And velvet catkins on the willow shone
By lowland streams, and on the hills the larch
Scented with odorous buds the winds of March.”
One more objection we must make, and that is to the tiresomely frequent use of the word “full.” It occurs everywhere, sometimes twice or thrice in one page. Feilimid feels himself “full sad” (p. 1). In p. 46 Caffa shakes his head “full dolefully.” In p. 49 “The east and north a strong Wind blew full keen.” In p. 55 Deirdrè grows “full pale”; in p. 58 she goes “to and fro” “full secretly”; in p. 59 she has thoughts “full sad”; while Naisi (p. 62) laughs to himself “full low,” his heart with love’s ardor grows “full warm” (p. 65). Maini watches Naisi “full treacherously” (p. 69), and three lines lower on the same page he is still watching him “full warily.” The loyal wife grasps her babe “full firm” (p. 164)—an expression that, allowing even for poetic license, is very doubtful grammar; “full soon” adorns p. 165; “full stern” shall be the fight (p. 166); “full many” a mile (p. 166); “full many” a festal fire (p. 167); even the very babe crows “full lustily” (p. 131).