Of beautiful Ygraine, of Morganse " whom a witch had
"rat" and who loved King Arthur for a night, of Merdred their bastard, of Queen Guinevere, whose passion rent the realm of Britain, Mr. John Masefield has memorable tales to
tell in. Midsummer Night (Heinemann, 7's. 6d.). To give the quality of these stories in verse is difficult without the whole body of Mr. Masefield's poetry as a background. They are, perhaps, out of tune with the modern spirit. There is an echo of Macaulay's Horatius, " like a wild cat mad with wounds," in Lancelot's ferocity :—
" So swept the broadsword from its oyry Shrieking to seek its own,
Beating its port and clanging fiery Through steel, through bone.
Through marrow to the life, so sweeping Lancelot's smiting scored. And Mador's sour had done with keeping The swift Wye ford."
Among the gleams and crying, the loves and lusts of men and women long dead, Mr. Masefield takes us on a night bewitched back to the Round Table. We cannot but yield to that en- chantment. This pageant of dark knights and fair women will hearten many of us with its swords and jewels. There is a splendid story here, told splendidly.
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