But here is a passage which will live forever-in which not one word could be altered for the better-not one omitted but for the worse-not one added that would not be superfluous-a passage that proves that fiction is not the soul of poetry, but truth-but, then, such truth as was never spoken before on the same subject-such truth, as shows that, while Thomson was a person of the strictest veracity, yet was he very far indeed from being a matter-of-fact man: A MAN PERISHING IN THE SNOW. "As thus the snows arise, and foul and fiero How sinks his soul! What black despair, what horror fills his heart! A dire descent, beyond the pow'r of frost! Smooth'd up with snow; and what is land unknown, In the loose marsh or solitary lake, Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. Into the mingled storm, demand their sire, SECTION XI. OLIVER GOLDSMITH (1728-1774). "The Traveler" and "The Deserted Village" are beautiful descriptive poems. The latter is said to contain some of the happiest pictures of rural life and character in the English language. His "Vicar of Wakefield," a prose tale, is also much admired. The following extracts are from the "Deserted Village :" "Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow, THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. "Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, ; The village all declared how much he knew Another, more humorous example, was given in part iii., chap. xv. SECTION XII. GEORGE CRABBE. His powers of imagination are not uncommon, but he possessed a talent for making accurate and minute observations on the realities of life. The moral tendency of his writings is good. His portraits are mostly from humble life-exhibiting virtues as well as vices. Crabbe, if not the most natural, is, in the opinion of Hazlitt, the most literal of descriptive poets. He exhibits the smallest circumstances of the smallest things-the non-essentials of every trifling incident. He describes the interior of a cottage like a person sent there to distrain for rent. You know the Christian and surnames of every one of his heroes-the dates of their achievements, whether on a Sunday or a Monday-their place of birth and burial, the color of their clothes and of their hair, and whether they squinted or not. He takes an inventory of the human heart exactly in the same manner as of the furniture of a sick room; his sentiments have very much the air of fixtures; he gives you the petrifaction of a sigh, and carves a tear, to the life, in stone. Almost all his characters are tired of their lives, and you heartily wish them dead. Crabbe's poetry is like a museum or a curiosity-shop: every thing has the same posthumous appearance, the same inanimateness and identity of character. He seems to rely, for the delight he is to convey to his reader, on the truth and accuracy with which he describes only what is disagreeable. SECTION XIII. SAMUEL ROGERS. Distinguished for a melodious flow of verse, a happy choice of expression, a power of touching the finer feelings, and of describing mental as well as visible objects with effect. It is thought by some that the English language does not afford a more finished composition, in regard to language, than the "Pleasures of Memory." Upon his poems he bestowed the greatest labor and cultivation. "Italy" is another fine poem, as you may learn from the extract here appended: ROME. "I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me? And from within a thrilling voice replies, Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts And I spring up as girt to run a race! * * * Thou art in Rome! the city that so long + Thou art in Rome! the city where the Gauls, Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild, * And I am there! Ah, little thought I, when in school I sat, Where, on his mule, I might have met so oft * Nero. That shoots and spreads within those very walls Where his voice falter'd, and a mother wept SECTION XIV. THOMAS CAMPBELL (1777-1844). To the suggestion and eloquent advocacy of this distinguished man the London University is said to have owed its origin. 6 "The Pleasures of Hope" is a splendid poem. "Its polish is exquisite, its topics felicitously chosen, and its illustrations natural and beautiful. He lifts you up to an exceedingly high mountain, and you see all nature in her loveliness, and man in the truth of his character, with hope irradiating, cheering, and sustaining him in the numerous ills of life. 'Gertrude of Wyoming' is preferred by some readers even to his Pleasures of Hope.' It is a sad tale, told with tenderness as well as genius. But if these had never been written, his songs would have given him claims as a first-rate poet. They cover sea and land. Their spirit stirs the brave, whatever may be their field of fame; whether the snow is to be their winding-sheet, or the deep their grave. National songs are of the most difficult production and of the highest value. They are the soul of national feeling and a safeguard of national honor."-(See Knapp's Pursuits of Literature.) 66 Of" The Pleasures of Hope," ""the music," says Professor Wilson, now deepens into a majestic march-now it swells into a holy hymn-and now it dies away, elegiac-like, as if mourning over a tomb; never else than beautiful, and ever and anon, we know not why, sublime. As for Gertrude of Wyoming, we love her as if she were our only daughter-filling our life with bliss, and then leaving it desolate. Never saw we a ship till Campbell indited 'Ye Mariners of England.' Sheer hulks before our eyes were all ships till that strain arose, but ever since in our imagination have they brightened the roaring ocean." |