Complete Essays, Literary Criticism, Cryptography, Autography, Translations & Letters. Эдгар Аллан По

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Complete Essays, Literary Criticism, Cryptography, Autography, Translations & Letters - Эдгар Аллан По


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verses entitled Burns consist of thirty-eight quatrains — the three first lines of each quatrain being of four feet, the fourth of three. This poem has many of the traits of Alnwick Castle, and bears also a strong resemblance to some of the writings of Wordsworth. Its chief merits, and indeed the chief merit, so we think, of all the poems of Halleck is the merit of expression. In the brief extracts from Burns which follow, our readers will recognize the peculiar character of which we speak.

      Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks:

       Thou mind’st me of that autumn noon

       When first we met upon “the banks

       And braes o’bonny Doon”-

       Like thine, beneath the thorn-tree’s bough,

       My sunny hour was glad and brief-

       We’ve crossed the winter sea, and thou

       Art withered-flower and leaf,

       There have been loftier themes than his,

       And longer scrolls and louder lyres

       And lays lit up with Poesy’s

       Purer and holier fires.

       And when he breathes his master-lay

       Of Alloways witch-haunted wall

       All passions in our frames of clay

       Come thronging at his call.

       Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines,

       Shrines to no code or creed confined-

       The Delphian vales, the Palastines,

       The Meccas of the mind.

       They linger by the Doon’s low trees,

       And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr,

       And round thy Sepulchres, Dumfries!

       The Poet’s tomb is there.

      Wyoming is composed of nine Spenserian stanzas. With some unusual excellences, it has some of the worst faults of Halleck. The lines which follow are of great beauty.

      I then but dreamed: thou art before me now,

       In life- a vision of the brain no more,

       I’ve stood upon the wooded mountain’s brow,

       That beetles high thy love! valley o’er;

       And now, where winds thy river’s greenest shore,

       Within a bower of sycamores am laid;

       And winds as soft and sweet as ever bore

       The fragrance of wild flowers through sun and shade

       Are singing in the trees, whose low boughs press my head.

      The poem, however, is disfigured with the mere burlesque of some portions of Alnwick Castle — with such things as

      he would look particularly droll

       In his Iberian boot and Spanish plume;

      and

      A girl of sweet sixteen

       Love-darting eyes and tresses like the morn

       Without a shoe or stocking- hoeing corn,

      mingled up in a pitiable manner with images of real beauty.

      The Field of the Grounded Arms contains twenty-four quatrains, without rhyme, and, we think, of a disagreeable versification. In this poem are to be observed some of the finest passages of Halleck. For example —

      Strangers! your eyes are on that valley fixed

       Intently, as we gaze on vacancy,

       When the mind’s wings o’erspread

       The spirit world of dreams.

      and again —

      O’er sleepless seas of grass whose waves are flowers.

      Red-jacket has much power of expression with little evidence of poetical ability. Its humor is very fine, and does not interfere, in any great degree, with the general tone of the poem.

      A Sketch should have been omitted from the edition as altogether unworthy of its author.

      The remaining pieces in the volume are Twilight, Psalm cxxxvii; To . . .; Love; Domestic Happiness; Magdalen, From the Italian; Woman; Connecticut; Music; On the Death of Lieut. William Howard Allen; A Poet’s Daughter; and On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake. Of the majority of these we deem it unnecessary to say more than that they partake, in a more or less degree, of the general character observable in the poems of Halleck. The Poet’s Daughter appears to us a particularly happy specimen of that general character, and we doubt whether it be not the favorite of its author. We are glad to see the vulgarity of

      I’m busy in the cotton trade

       And sugar line,

      omitted in the present edition. The eleventh stanza is certainly not English as it stands — and besides it is altogether unintelligible. What is the meaning of this?

      But her who asks, though first among

       The good, the beautiful, the young

       The birthright of a spell more strong

       Than these have brought her.

      The Lines on the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake, we prefer to any of the writings of Halleck. It has that rare merit in composition of this kind — the union of tender sentiment and simplicity. This poem consists merely of six quatrains, and we quote them in full.

      Green be the turf above thee,

       Friend of my better days!

       None knew thee but to love thee,

       Nor named thee but to praise.

       Tears fell when thou wert dying

       From eyes unused to weep,

       And long, where thou art lying,

       Will tears the cold turf steep.

       When hearts whose truth was proven,

       Like thine are laid in earth,

       There should a wreath be woven

       To tell the world their worth.

       And I, who woke each morrow

       To clasp thy hand in mine,

       Who shared thy joy and sorrow,

       Whose weal and woe were thine-

       It should be mine to braid it

       Around thy faded brow,

       But I’ve in vain essayed it,

       And feel I cannot now.

       While memory bids me weep thee,

       Nor thoughts nor words are free,

       The grief is fixed too deeply,

       That mourns a man like thee.

      If we are to judge from the subject of these verses, they are a work of some care and reflection. Yet they abound in faults. In the line,

      Tears fell when thou wert dying;

      wert is not English.

      Will tears the cold turf steep,

      is an exceedingly rough verse. The metonymy involved in

      There should a wreath be woven

       To tell the world their worth,

      is unjust. The quatrain beginning,

      And I who woke each morrow,

      is ungrammatical in its construction when viewed in connection with the quatrain which immediately follows. “Weep thee” and “deeply” are inaccurate rhymes — and the whole of the first quatrain,

      Green be the turf, &c.

      although beautiful, bears too close a resemblance to the still more beautiful lines of William Wordsworth,


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