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  HENRY BROCKEN

  With a heart of furious fancies, Whereof I am commander: With a burning spear, And a horse of air, To the wilderness I wander;

  With a Knight of ghosts and shadows, I summoned am to Tourney: Ten leagues beyond The wide world's end; Methinks it is no journey.

  --ANON. (_Tom o' Bedlam_).

  HENRY BROCKEN

  His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-ImaginableRegions of Romance

  by

  WALTER J. DE LA MARE

  ("WALTER RAMAL")

  LondonJohn Murray, Albemarle Street, W.

  1904

  CONTENTS

  I. WHITHER?

  Come hither, come hither, come hither!

  --SHAKESPEARE.

  II. LUCY GRAY

  Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray; And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child.

  --WORDSWORTH.

  III. JANE EYRE

  I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams ... where amidst unusual scenes ... I still again and again met Mr. Rochester;... and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him--the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire.

  --CHARLOTTE BRONTE (_Jane Eyre_, Ch. xxxii.).

  IV. JULIA, ELECTRA, DIANEME

  Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying.

  The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting.

  That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

  Then be not coy, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.

  ANTHEA--

  Now is the time when all the lights wax dim, And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me Under the holy-oak or gospel tree;... Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb In which thy sacred relics shall have room: For my embalming, sweetest, there will be No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.

  --HERRICK (_Hesperides_).

  V. NICK BOTTOM 43

  BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.

  --_A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act III., Sc. i.

  VI. SLEEPING BEAUTY

  VII. & VIII. LEMUEL GULLIVER

  I must freely confess that since my last return some corruptions of my Yahoo nature have revived in me, by conversing with a few of your species, and particularly those of my own family, by an unavoidable necessity; else I should never have attempted so absurd a project as that of reforming the Yahoo race in this kingdom: but I have done with all such visionary schemes for ever.--_Gulliver's Letter to his Cousin._

  The first money I laid out was to buy two young stone horses, which I kept in a good stable, and next to them the groom is my greatest favourite; for I feel my spirits revived by the smell he contracts in the stable.

  --SWIFT (_A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms_, Ch. xi.).

  IX. & X. MISTRUST, OBSTINATE, LIAR, ETC.

  And as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?"...

  The neighbours also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return.

  ATHEIST--

  Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming softly and alone, all along the highway, to meet them.

  --BUNYAN (_The Pilgrim's Progress_).

  XI. LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

  "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

  "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel's granary is full, And the harvest's done."

  --KEATS.

  XII. SLEEP AND DEATH

  Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon-- Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved Night-- Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!

  --SHELLEY.

  XIII. & XIV. A DOCTOR OF PHYSIC

  Well, well, well,-- ... God, God forgive us all!

  --_Macbeth_, Act V., Sc. i.

  XV. ANNABEL LEE

  I was a child, and she was a child In this kingdom by the sea; And we loved with a love that was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee-- With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.

  --EDGAR ALLAN POE.

  XVI. CRISEYDE

  ... Love hadde his dwellinge With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen.

  Book I., 304-5.

  Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth, Have here my trouthe and many another ooth; Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!

  Book III., 1110-2.

  And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!

  Book V., 1421.

  --CHAUCER (_Troilus and Criseyde_).