I’m not sure that individuals should be allowed to compile anthologies, either of music or literature: they always want to obtrude their own personality on the selection, show the diversity of their taste and the depth of their knowledge, or offer greater inclusivity. A volume like this would be better produced by a committee agreeing a list between them.
It does have, probably, all the pieces you would expect: Gray’s Elegy, The Deserted Village, To His Coy Mistress, etc. But no fewer than 120 pages are given over to Shakespeare, and 80 to Milton – in all, a third of the volume. Given that these are the two best known and most-published poets in the history of English, it seems unnecessary and a waste of space. The approach with Shakespeare is to cite individual scenes in which the writing is especially ‘poetic’. It’s interesting to encounter detached bits in this way – ordinarily, whether reading Shakespeare or watching him, you have to devote too much energy to following the story to appreciate the quality of the writing fully. But you obviously need some knowledge of the entire play in order to understand the scenes fully; and as Wain himself implies, you could probably pick another 120 pages, entirely different and just as good.
Some of the other writers, though, are not so great: in fact, I would categorise some of the pieces here as doggerel. Wain says he did make some selections for reasons other than because they are great poetry. Why? I refer you to my first paragraph, above. And there’s another reason: sometimes mediocre poems seem to have been included because they have one famous line, like ‘Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast’.
Another serious mistake is to retain all the original spelling. In the Elizabethan poetry, this represents a significant obstacle to fluent reading: the language in that era was not radically different from now, but the spelling was.
As for the poetry itself, rather than the selection, I think what you see over this period is a gradually but steadily widening gulf between the poetry and the raw material of which poetry is made. The Elizabethans were able to combine classical learning with the immediacy of the medieval imagination, and do the ‘nymphs and shepherds’ stuff convincingly; but after that it became more and more the self-conscious assumption of an artificial attitude. The English poetic imagination was dying as it became remote from rural life, a fact reflected in the number of satirical pieces towards the end of the volume; it was to be reborn in the Romantic mould, exploring the inner life rather than the old pastoral archetypes.
What is the point of a volume like this: to extend your knowledge of poetry beyond the obvious greats? Or just to have the best of what you already know readily to hand in a compact volume? If it’s the second, this book is fine; if the first, somewhat lacking. As far as it goes, what it suggests is that all the greats are actually obvious greats – there isn’t a whole load of neglected geniuses out there which we’ve forgotten.