« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Grenadiers, lightbobs, inch-people all,
A broad-sheet butterfly banner spread,
But hark! the trumpet's royal clangour
Disparted now, half to each side,
Some graceful pair, or more to see
Nor pine their little orbs in vain,
A RURAL RETREAT.
ENTER JOHN OF SALISBURY WITH A BOOK.
John of S. Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas.
LET me pause here, both tongue and foot; such melody
Of words doth strike the wild-birds mute to hear it!
So fine that even the cricket can be heard [mark'd
Peal in its bright parishioners, ouphes and elves:
MR. WADE is the author of Mundi et Cordis Carmina, Helena, the Jew of Arragon, the Death of Ginderode and Prothanasia, the last of which is founded on a passage in the correspondence of BETTINE BRENTIANO with GOETHE.
THERE is a mighty dawning on the earth,
Of what will be hereafter, when existence
Gon will'd creation: but creation was not The cause of that Almighty Will of God, But that great God's desire of emanation: Beauty of human love the object is; But love's sweet cause lives in the soul's desire For intellectual, sensual sympathies: Seeing a plain-plumed bird, in whose deep throat We know the richest power of music dwells, We long to hear its linked melodies: Scenting a far-off flower's most sweet perfume, That gives its balm of life to every wind, We crave to mark the beauty of its bloom: But bird nor flower is that volition's cause: [laws. But music and fine grace, graven on the soul, like
LET the trim tapers burn exceeding brightly! And the white bed be deck'd as for a goddess, Who must be pillow'd, like high vesper, nightly On couch ethereal! Be the curtains fleecy, Like vesper's fairest when calm nights are breezyTransparent, parting-showing what they hide, Or strive to veil-by mystery deified! The floor, gold-carpet, that her zone and boddice May lie in honour where they gently fall, Slow loosened from her form symmetricalLike mist from sunlight. Burn, sweet odours, burn! For incense at the altar of her pleasure! Let music breathe with a voluptuous measure, And witchcrafts trance her wheresoe'er she turn.
LEIGH HUNT says of him, "He is a poet; he is overflowing with fancy and susceptibility, and not without the finest subtleties of imagination." Praise from a high source, and not
THE POETRY OF EARTH.
"THE Poetry of Earth is never dead," Even in the cluster'd haunts of plodding men. Before a door in citied underground, Lies a man-loving, faith-expression'd houndTo pastoral hills forth tending us; to den Of daring bandit; and to regions dread Of mountain-snows, where others of its kind Tend upon man's, as with a human mind. A golden beetle on the dusty steps Crawls, of a wayside-plying vehicle, Where wending men swarm thick and gloomily: We gaze; and see beneath the ripening sky The harvest glisten; and that creature creeps Upon the sunny corn, radiantly visible !
THE SERE OAK-LEAVES. WHY do ye rustle in this vernal wind, Sere leaves! shaking a dread prophetic shroud Over the very cradle of the spring? Like pertinacious Age, with warnings loud, Dinning the grave into an infant's mind, And shadowing death on life's first imaging! Why to these teeming branches do ye cling, And with your argument renascence cloud; Whilst every creature of new birth is proud, And in unstain'd existence revelling? Fall, and a grave within the centre find! And do not thus, whilst all the sweet birds sing, The insects glitter, and the flower'd grass waves, Blight us with thoughts of winter and our graves!
A THOUSAND Swans are o'er the waters sailing, And others in the reeds and rushes brood, And more are flying o'er the sunny flood; And all move with a grandeur so prevailing, That long we stand, without a breath inhaling, In admiration of their multitude,
And the majestic grace with which endued
MR. BROWNING's first appearance as an author was in 1835, when he published Paracelsus, a dramatic poem founded on the history of the celebrated professor of that name at Basil, in the days of LUTHER and ERASMUS. He has since written three tragedies, entitled Strafford, King Victor and King Charles, and A Blot in the 'Scutcheon; and many shorter pieces, most of which are included in his Bells and Pomegranates, issued by Moxon in 1843. There are in Mr. BROWNING's writings vigour, force of character, and passionate strength; but unhappily few of them are adapted to the popular apprehension. They are not easily read in the boudoir, where the
EXTRACT FROM PARACELSUS.
WITH still a flying point of bliss remote, A happiness in store afar, a sphere Of distant glory in full view, thus climbs Pleasure its heights for ever and for ever! The centre-fire heaves underneath the earth, And the earth changes like a human face; The molten ore bursts up among the rocks, Winds into the stone's heart, outbranches bright In hidden mines, spots barren river-beds, Crumbles into fine sand where sunbeams baskGod joys therein!.... Earth is a wintry clod; But spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes Over its breast to waken it; rare verdure Buds here and there upon rough banks, between The wither'd tree-roots and the cracks of frost; The grass grows bright, the boughs are swollen with Like chrysalids impatient for the air; [blooms, The shining dorrs are busy; beetles run Along the furrows, ants make their ado; Above birds fly in merry flocks-the lark Soars up and up, shivering for very joy; Afar the ocean sleeps; white fishing-gulls Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe Of nested limpets; savage creatures seek Their loves in wood and plain; and God renews His ancient rapture! Thus he dwells in all, From life's minute beginnings, up at last To man-the consummation of this scheme Of being-the completion of this sphere Of life whose attributes had here and there Been scatter'd o'er the visible world before, Asking to be combined-dim fragments meant To be united in some wondrous wholeImperfect qualities throughout creation, Suggesting some one creature yet to make
perusal of MOORE and ROGERS is the highest exertion of intellect. Indeed, with some striking merits which will give them an influence in the formation of the taste of another generation, they are deformed by so many novelties of construction, and affectations of various kinds, that few will have patience to wade through his marshes to cull the flowers with which they are scattered. Mr. BROWNING'S Blot in the 'Scutcheon was acted in 1843, under the management of Mr. MACREADY. Though its dramatic qualities were in direct opposition to the prevailing style of the stage, it met with a hearty reception from the best critics.
Whereto those wandering rays should all converge;
That let light in upon the gloomy woods,
EXTRACTS FROM SORDELLO.
To the main wonder now. A vault, see; thick
Of just-tinged marble like Eve's lilied flesh
HE, no genius rare, Transfiguring in fire or wave or air At will, but a poor gnome that, cloister'd up In some rock-chamber with his agate cup, His topaz rod, his seed-pearl, in these few And their arrangement finds enough to do For his best art. Then, how he loved that art! The calling marking him a man apart From men-one not to care, take counsel for Cold hearts, comfortless faces, (Eglamor Was neediest of his tribe,) since verse, the gift, Was his, and men, the whole of them, must shift Without it, e'en content themselves with wealth And pomp and power, snatching a life by stealth. So Eglamor was not without his pride!
The sorriest bat which cowers through noontide While other birds are jocund, has one time When moon and stars are blinded, and the prime Of earth is its to claim, nor find a peer.
RICHARD HENRY HORNE.
Mr. HORNE belongs to the intellectual bro- | This he accomplishes, but Enopion hesitattherhood of whom we have already given ing to fulfil his agreement, the giants make specimens in the notices of DARLEY, BROWN- war against him and carry off Merope, with ING, and others. He has written several dra- whom Orion lives happily in a secluded grove matic poems and sketches, among which are until the king discovers his retreat and deThe Death of Marlowe, Cosmo de' Medici, prives him of sight. In his wretchedness, and Gregory the Seventh, all of which have deserted by Merope, he seeks the aid of Eos, met the approval of the critics. His latest who unseals his eyes and loves him with an production (excepting The New Spirit of the affection which satisfies his soul. The jeaAge, of which he acknowledges himself to be lous Artemis now destroys him; but repents, the editor only) is Orion, an epic poem, and joins with Eos in a prayer to Zeus for which, aside from its intrinsic merits, will the restoration of his life. The prayer is find its record in the Curiosities of Litera- granted; Orion is made immortal, placed ture for the novel circumstances of its pub- among the constellations, and enjoys for ever lication. It was offered to the public at vari- the love of Eos. This slight outline of the ous prices, commencing with a farthing and fable is necessary to a proper understanding rising through successive stages to a half- of the extracts from the poem which are given crown in its fourth edition. In Orion we have in this volume. modern transcendentalism wedded to the old Greek mythology. Orion, wandering in the mountains of Chios, encounters Artemis, who loves him, and by her love elevates his nature, but fails to make him happy. In a dream he sees Merope, the daughter of Enopion, king of Chios, who warns him to beware of Artemis, and on awaking he seeks and wins the affection of the princess. The king derides his pretensions, but promises him the hand of his daughter if in six days he will destroy the beasts and serpents of the island.
EXTRACTS FROM ORION.
THE FIRST APPEARANCE of Orion.
THE scene in front two sloping mountains' sides
Mr. HORNE is also author of an Essay on Tragic Infiuence, and an Introduction to Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature and Art; and he was associated with WORDSWORTH, LEIGH HUNT, Miss BARRETT, and others, in the production of Chaucer Modernized, to which he prefixed an admirable essay on the riches of English poetry and the development of the principles of versification, by which the rhythm of CHAUCER is fully sustained, and which no poet who has a love for his art should fail to read.