II
THE MONKEY AND THE MICROSCOPE
The poets of "the fleshly school" across the water are having a lively, but not an edifying, fight among themselves. The young Scottish knight, Robert Buchanan, threw down the gauntlet; and Sir Swinburne of Brittany has picked it up, and has also picked up Robert Buchanan, and put him "Under the Microscope,"—that being the title of Swinburne's thunderbolt. With this prelude, the following verses from the last number of the Saint Pauls Magazine require no explanation:—
"Once, when the wondrous work was new,
I deemed Darwinian dreams untrue;
But now I must admit with shame
The caudal stock from which we came,—
Seeing a sight to slay all hope:
A monkey with a Microscope!
A clever monkey,—he can squeak,
Scream, bite, munch, mumble, all but speak;
Studies not merely monkey-sport,
But vices of a human sort;
Is petulant to most, but sweet
To those who pat him, give him meat;
Can imitate to admiration
Man's gestures, gait, gesticulation;
Is amorous, and takes no pain
To hide his aphrodital vein;
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