clay, his fame and standing steadily rose in the generations after
his death. Nor has the balance of English poetry ever reverted
to the side of faith. Even Tennyson, who more than once struck at
rationalism below the belt, is in his own despite the poet of doubt
as much as of credence, however he might wilfully attune himself to
the key of faith; and the unparalleled optimism of Browning evolved a
form of Christianity sufficiently alien to the historic creed. [1865]
In Clough and Matthew Arnold, again, we have the positive record of
surrendered faith. Alongside of Arnold, Swinburne put into his verse
the freethinking temper that Leconte de Lisle reserved for prose;
and the ill-starred but finely gifted James Thomson ("B.V.") was no
less definitely though despairingly an unbeliever. Among our later
poets, finally, the balance is pretty much the same. Mr. Watson has
declared in worthily noble diction for a high agnosticism, and the
late John Davidson defied orthodox ethics in the name of his very
antinomian theology; [1866] while on the side of the regulation
religion--since Mr. Yeats is but a stray Druid--can be cited at best
the regimental psalmody of Mr. Kipling, lyrist of trumpet and drum;
the stained-glass Mariolatries of the late Francis Thompson; the
declamatory orthodoxy of Mr. Noyes; and the Godism of W. E. Henley,
whereat the prosaic godly look askance.