The Old English words in the Corpus Glossary constitute one of the oldest extant texts in the English language, and one of the three longest in the Mercian dialect. Linguists now agree that the glossary was compiled somewhere in Mercian territory during the eighth century. Palaeographical evidence points to the eighth century as the period of compilation. Concerning two important questions, linguistic opinion seems at present vague and uncertain: First, to what extent is the language of Corpus the result of dialect mixture? Second, what is the relationship between the language of Corpus and that of the most important of the texts now looked upon as Mercian, the Vespasian Psalter?

In den Handbüchern und Grundrissen der deutschen Rechtsgeschichte wird unter den Quellen oder Vorbildern, die Eike von Repgow bei der Abfassung des Sachsenspiegels massgebend beeinflusst haben sollen, allgemein der Name des Didaktikers Wernher von Elmendorf angeführt. Ein Lehrgedicht dieses in der zweiten Hälfte des 12. Jahrhunderts in Thüringen reimenden niederdeutschen Geistlichen soll dem Verfasser des Sachsenspiegels als Vorbild gedient haben, als er die Reime zur Vorrede seines Rechtsbuches zusammenfügte. “Der zweite Teil der Praefatio Rhythmica, Vers 97–280, ist von Eike in Reimpaaren mit Benutzung eines Lehrgedichtes des Werner von Elmendorf abgefasst worden.” So lautet die Formulierung Heinrich Brunners, die in allen Auflagen seiner Grundzüge der deutschen Rechts geschickte wiederkehrt. Claudius von Schwerin schreibt in seinem neuesten Grundrisswerk Germanische Rechtsgeschichte: “Auch kannte Eike mittelalterliche Dichter,” was im Hinblick auf die auch von ihm angenommenen “zahlreichen Anklänge” an jenen Dichter im zweiten Teil der Reimvorrede mit auf Elmendorf zu beziehen ist. Karl August Eckhardt bemerkt in der Einleitung zu seiner Sachsenspiegelausgabe mit quellenkritischer Vorsicht bloss, dass sich in der Reimvorrede “Anklänge an Wernher von Elmendorf” finden.

Tyrwhitt (about 1790) dated the A-Text of Piers Plowman upon the evidence of a reference (Passus v, 10–20) to a southwest wind storm which occurred in 1362. Scholars have generally accepted this as the date of composition. But Professor Cargill has shown the reference to have no value in deciding the terminus ad quem in view of the specific and lively records of this storm to be found in later sources: John Richesdale, for example, born after the time of the storm, as he tells us, speaks of it familiarly just as we might of the great blizzard of '88, still a memorable event.

A good deal of attention has been devoted to the question of Chaucer's intention when he created the character of Criseyde. Almost all answers have as their starting point a common assumption: that Chaucer was doing his best to create a unified character in the modern sense of the phrase. They start, that is, from the assumption that Chaucer meant Criseyde's character and actions to appear all of a piece and from the fact that he made her false to Troilus in the end. Only two conclusions are possible on the basis of these premises: either Chaucer intended Criseyde's character to appear compatible with her betrayal of Troilus from the first, or he intended it to appear to change during the course of the narrative in response to the events. The first of these conclusions, with its assumption as to Chaucer's conception of things, is the one most frequently encountered.

Few readers of Marlowe's Dr. Faustus would, I think, concur in the judgment pronounced by a popular contemporary critic who declares that Faustus is “essentially childish. . . . He longs for magic power like a boy who has read the Arabian Nights.” Instead of juvenile simplicity, the magician of Wittenberg presents, for most of us, a highly complex problem of personality, embodying in his single nature most magnificent aspiration, most basely earthbound satisfaction. The Faustus of the opening and closing scenes, and of certain ones between, is authentic superman, exalted by the passionate urgency of his yearning into a vast and lofty plane of being. Yet, once possessed of magic, this superman becomes, in his exercise of it, boor, buffoon, and sensualist.

The known facts of the several versions of the Arcadia have been presented many times. Briefly, the original version was widely circulated in manuscript but never printed. Sidney commenced an elaborate revision, which was left unfinished at his death in 1586. In 1590 the revised portion was published, superintended, without much doubt, by Fulke Greville. In 1593 appeared a new edition, supervised by Mary, Countess of Pembroke, which consisted of the revised portion with the addition of the third, fourth, and fifth books from the earlier manuscript version to complete the story.

Shakespeare's intimate acquaintance with the music of his time and his enthusiasm for the art are well known, and there can be little question that he consorted to some extent with the London musicians of 1600. Certain of them may have been actively associated with the production, and possibly with the composition, of his plays. Precisely what form such association took, however, is a matter upon which investigation has hitherto yielded only meagre and confusing results. Speculation links Shakespeare's name with many composers and performers of the period, some of whom must indeed have supplied both the incidental music so abundantly required for his stage productions and the earliest settings of his lyrics.

Shakespeare's intimate acquaintance with the music of his time and his enthusiasm for the art are well known, and there can be little question that he consorted to some extent with the London musicians of 1600. Certain of them may have been actively associated with the production, and possibly with the composition, of his plays. Precisely what form such association took, however, is a matter upon which investigation has hitherto yielded only meagre and confusing results. Speculation links Shakespeare's name with many composers and performers of the period, some of whom must indeed have supplied both the incidental music so abundantly required for his stage productions and the earliest settings of his lyrics.

In an article entitled “Terminal Pause in Milton's Verse“ I have tried to show that in spite of the great and very proper concern of critics with Milton's use of the “verse-paragraph,” the study of Milton's prosody must be in terms of the linear unit, the study of the paragraph being largely a rhetorical problem. In these terms, Robert Bridges' Milton's Prosody is a formulation of the rules of Milton's later blank verse. But Bridges gives very little attention to any of the poems in the Trinity College Manuscript, and none to the readings peculiar to the manuscript, from which we may learn a good deal of Milton's concern for prosody. Of the poems in the manuscript, Comus alone is in blank verse. We shall examine it first, after a brief review of Bridges' findings.

The introduction of French neo-classical drama into Spain in the eighteenth century met the most determined opposition on the part of patriotic Spaniards. French lyric and epic poetry had little influence, for France had given comparatively little attention to them during the great period of Louis XIV. The fable, satire, letters, and other genres were accepted in Spain without causing much disturbance. It was not so with the drama.

The Discours sur les Arts et les Sciences, composed in 1749–50, in an age whose leading thinkers were prone to overlook the limitations of reason and the drawbacks of progress, could hardly fail to attract notice, by its enthusiasm and paradoxical nature, if not by any logical organization or historical soundness. The essay was written in a prize contest proposed by the Academy of Dijon for the discussion of the question, “Si le rétablissement des Sciences et des Arts a contribué à épurer les mœurs,” and was awarded the medal. It maintains that the arts and sciences have contributed to the corruption of humanity. To support this thesis, the author cites numerous historical instances in which nations have lost their virtue and their supremacy as learning developed among them. Contrariwise, nations which did not permit learning to advance have been better able to remain great. The arts and sciences undermine patriotism and religion, breed luxury and vice, and are in general a serious degrading influence.

There is nothing surprising in finding that a part of Edmund Burke's life still remains obscure. With the exception of his political activities within the walls of the House of Commons, almost all of his life is obscure. Such simple vital facts as the date of his birth, the place of his marriage, even the exact place of his burial, are still subjects of doubt. (See N. & Q.,clxxii, 441; 6th ser., v, 274 f.; cxlix, 80).) Almost nothing is known about his first ten years in London. Mr. Dixon Wecter's recent article entitled “The Missing Years in Edmund Burke's Biog-graphy,” PMLA (December, 1938), shows clearly how little is yet known about this period. There are uncertainties as to the times of writing, dates of publication, and even the authorship of works generally considered his. There are uncertainties as to the part he may have taken in several works ascribed to other people. There is a most embarrassing mystery surrounding the sources of his income. Indeed, almost anywhere one looks in his private life, there is some element of mystery.

Some have credited Coleridge's Kuhla Khan with a “magic” lacking to almost every other poem in English. Though more finished in its artistry, Kuhla Khan is, however, no more “magic” than parts of Chatterton's African Eclogues; in fact, as E. H. W. Meyerstein in his excellent Life of Chatterton was apparently the first critic to point out, there are sundry arresting likenesses between these Eclogues and Kuhla Khan. Since the Rowley poet is in his strange “romantic” way similar to Coleridge, is it possible to penetrate the “shaping spirit of imagination” behind the African Eclogues, as Mr. Lowes has penetrated the imagination behind Kuhla Khan? The purpose of this discussion is to show the manifold effects of the Rev. Alexander Catcott's Treatise on the Deluge on three “magic” poems.

The purpose of this paper is to point out the extent of Shelley's knowledge of Shakespeare and his indebtedness to, him. Students of Shelley have merely assumed that both were considerable; but, so far as I know, this is the first systematic statement of the facts.

In recent years Baudelaire has come to be recognized as one of the greatest of French critics, a critic whose judgments have an almost uncanny sureness, and whose principles of art and of criticism have a lasting validity. He was from the beginning a most independent and original critic. But he was also an avid reader, and his mind was full of ideas which he had read or heard. It is from a tangled skein of other people's ideas that he slowly wove a harmonious and original pattern that is unlike any of its single threads. In much of his early critical work, however, some at least of the strands are easily distinguishable. Among these are the works of Baudelaire's two greatest predecessors in art criticism, Diderot and Stendhal.

Inscribed on a tombstone in Kensal Green Cemetery are the following words: “In memory of Wilkie Collins, author of ‘The Woman in White’ and other works of fiction.” This inscription, written (as his will shows) by Collins himself, pays tribute to the book which probably stands highest among his works in the esteem of his readers.

In the beginning was the Word . . .

The writings of Joyce show a progression from an early interest in words through a mature use of them to the excessive fondness of old age. In spite of variation from one work to another, the development is not always consistent and steady; sometimes there is a reversion to a former phase, sometimes an advance into a future phase. The direction, however, is unmistakable.

Ever since its appearance in 1924 Rivera's novel La Vorágine has been widely discussed. Its literary merits are beyond dispute, and the nature of its plot is sensational. Editions and translations into foreign languages have rapidly succeeded one another. Discussed as a literary work by several critics, La Vorágine has not yet been analyzed in sufficient detail to reveal fully its documentary character. It is a historical record of importance, containing an accurate summary of the barbarous conditions that prevailed in the Colombian interior and adjacent lands from about 1905 to 1920.

In an article reviewing Werfel's collected poems from the Catholic point of view, Cornelius Schroeder, a Franciscan, maintains that despite constant references to God in his poetry Werfel does not experience any real religious faith. It is Schroeder's contention that Werfel does not succeed in finding a solution to the conflict between nature and spirituality which is so prominent in his poetry:

Als geistiger Mensch kommt er nicht hinweg iiber die Zwiespältigkeit von Natur und Geist, kommt er nicht los von der Qual, in welche die Geburt für die Erde den Geist gestiirzt hat.