Letter to Edward Burne-Jones, 13 March 1870 Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Used with permission of Princeton University. From the Princeton University Library, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections. All rights reserved. Redistribution or republication in any medium requires express written consent from Princeton University Library. Permissions inquiries should be addressed to Associate University Librarian, Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library. Letter to Edward Burne-Jones, 13 March 1870 Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1870 March 13 letter Burne-Jones, Edward The letter comprises two leaves folded into four pages. DGR Princeton University Library, Troxell collection CO185 Box 1 (Burne-Jones Correspondence) Commentary
Introduction

This letter contains the earliest known copy of DGR's sonnet <xref doc="a.24-1869.raw">“For ‘The Wine of Circle’”</xref> , along with his brief comments on the relation of the sonnet to Burne-Jones' picture. This text has an alternative reading for line 13 and it differs in other considerable ways from the received text.

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Scalands Gate, Robertsbridge
Sunday Dear Ned,

I got your nice good note this morning. Yesterday I did the “Circe” sonnet and copy it overpage. I hope you will only put it on the frame if you think it really expressive of the picture. Else I will put it only in my book. I have tried in the first four lines to give something of the picture's colour, and in the last two of its moral (!). Which is the best form of these last? Unless you are in a hurry to send the picture away, you might defer having it copied on, as I may perhaps do something to it yet.

Today we have suddenly got completely snowed up here—six inches deep; so perhaps I may be forced on doing some work; but am so far from well that I do not feel sure of any result.

I will attend to what you say about the frame.

Your affec: D. G. R.

Any suggestions as to the sonnet will be welcome from the “master”.

p.s. If you write a line, say if you have seen Swinburne and how he is, and give him my love. He is to come to town tomorrow—Monday.

Why sink those black drops in that golden wine Shed from thy hand, O dusk-haired gold-robed dame, Where o'er the spread feast gleams the fragrant flame And the dark-hearted golden sunflowers shine? Doth Helios here with Hecatè combine O Circe, thou their votaress! to proclaim For these thy guests all rapture in Love's name, Till pitiless Night give Day the countersign? Lords of their hour, they come. And by her knee Those cowering beasts, their equals heretofore, Wait; who with them in new equality To-night shall echo back the far-flung roar Which past thy window sounds from the strown shore

or

Where o'er the spread feast gleams the fragrant flame And the &c. &c. Where the dishevelled seaweed hates the sea.