June 14, 1845.
When I ask my wise self what I really do remember of the Prize poem, the answer is – – both of Chapman’s lines a-top, quite worth any prize for their quoter – – then, the good epithet of ‘Green Europe’ contrasting with Africa – – then, deep in the piece, a picture of a Vestal in a vault, where I see a dipping and winking lamp plainest, and last of all the ominous ‘all was dark’ that dismisses you. I read the poem many years ago, and never since, though Continue reading “#42”