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[page 363, column 2, continued:]
Communications.
Written for the Portland Transcript.
MR. POE'S VALENTINE.
In Sartain's Union Magazine for the present month, is “A Valentine,” by Edgar A. Poe, — in which the author, after telling his story — very kindly warns of all readers from the attempt to unravel his enigma, since they will merely have their labor for their pains. The editor of the Magazine, also calls the article a “most provoking puzzle.” We take this notice of the matter only because we are not quite willing to take a challenge from both the author and his editor. The missive follows:
‘For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Loeda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader :
Search narrowly the lines ! — they hold a treasure
Divine — a talisman — an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure —
The words — the syllables ! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor !
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdu
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets — as the name is a poet's too.
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto — Mendez Ferdinando —
Still form a synonym for Truth. — Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.”
The reader will please note the initial letter of the opening line : the second letter of the second line : the third, of the third, and thus advancing through the entire twenty, he will make out the name of FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD.
About a year since, Mr. Poe furnished for the same Magazine, a sonnet, enveloping in the same profound mystery that attaches to the above, the name of another gifted poetess. We read the riddle at the time, without hurting ourself in the least. Here it is:
“Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce,
“Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet, —
Trash of all trash ! — how can a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff —
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.”
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general Petrarchanities are arrant
Bubbles — ephemeral and so transparent —
But this is, now, — you may depend upon it —
Stable, opaque, immortal — all by dint
Of the dear names that lie concealed within’t.
By running through this according to the rule given for the first, the reader will discover the name of Sarah Anna Lewis. If Mr. Poe really wishes to puzzle his readers, let him attempt something in the periphrastic manner of the Troubadours of Provence, “in days of old romance,” and possibly he may succeed. But such trifling as the above, is hardly worthy the ingenuity of the author of “The Gold Bug.”
POLONIUS.
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Notes:
None.
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[S:0 - PT, 1849] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Bookshelf - Mr. Poe's Valentine (Polonius, 1849)