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task of journeying daily to the ante-medieval ages. It is difficult to make out the attraction which has drawn the Poet Laureate to those times, for in sooth he is no archaeologist. After Milton wrote his Comus, it was his intention to have written an epic poem with Arthur as its subject; but the lapse of years, the increase of knowledge, and a matured judgment, led him away from his early intention, and caused him to select the most elevated and noble theme which can inspire the mind or employ the pen of the poet. Arthur and his Round Table were put aside by Milton. It does not seem wrong to suppose, that the ambitious thought of doing what Milton left undone, entered into the mind of Mr Tennyson. The imagination of man is prone to discount his unreaped honours. No sooner then would the design of working out this undertaking form itself into a set purpose, than the fruitful fancy of the poet would crown his brow with the laurel wreath, and place his name on the lips of an admiring people. From that time until now, Mr Tennyson has been working at his task, and the silent pledge is fulfilled.
Mr Tennyson could not well have been more unfortunate in his choice of a subject. Arthur's life is so shadowy and dim, that his existence is regarded almost as mythical. Historians, in attempting to produce a concrete which will clearly define his individuality, and express the features of his chatacter, find that he fades away before the searching light of historical investigation. His father's name is unknown; his own name a subject of dispute. And all his great battles are a transfer to him from Kerdic. French writers of the present day are notorious for such historical slight-of-hand; and we know that their ancestors were worthy sires of these sons. For it is from the romancists of Brittany that the tale of Arthur and his Table
