Text: Anonymous, “The Poets of America,” Irish Quarterly Review (Dublin, Ireland), vol. 5, no. 19, September 1855, pp. 561-590

[page 561, unnumbered:]

ART. IV. — THE POETS OF AMERICA.

SECOND PAPER.

1. The Poetical Works of John G. Whittier. Author of “ Old Portraits,” &c., &c. London: George Routledge and Co., 2 and 3, Farringdon-street. 1852.

2. Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination ; and Poems. London: Clarke, Beeton, and Co,, Fleet-street.

3. The Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell. Edited with an Introduction, by Andrew R. Scoble. London: George Routledge and Co., Farringdon-street. 1853.

4. Poems by Thomas Buchanan Read. Illustrated by Kenny Meadows. London: Delf and Trübner, 12, Paternosterrow. 1852.

5. The Poetical Works of N. P. Willis, Author of “Pencitlings By the Way.” London: George Routledge and Co., Soho-square. 1850.

We do not see to what we can more fittingly compare the beneficial tendency of the productions of the American Poets, which are so calculated to counteract the multiform evil influences which exist in that country, than to the waters of the Nile, which when the country around has been rendered sterile by the scorching and terrific heat of a tropical sun, profusely irrigate the plains, restoring lusty vegetation to the soil, and golden prosperity to the Egyptian people. Like that generous river, the collective waters of these authors’ genius flow on peerlessly, gladdening many an arid mind, and producing an in vigorating effect upon many an intellect, which had been weakened and well nigh destroyed by the raving doctrines of the Mormonite, or the brazen and blasphemous lucubrations of the apostles of ignorance, or socialism. It is very consoling to the true American, and to all well wishers of America to reflect, that their fine Poets afford such a sheet anchor, wherewith to keep at their safe moorings, those comprehensive principles, and invaluable adaptations of ethical rules, upon the observance of which so much future greatness depends, and that these authors constitute such a happy safeguard against [page 562:] the vast religious dissensions, the great opposing political interests, civil wars, and other ill omened visions which are so gravely announced as, “looming in the future,” by a countless host of Journalists, Essayists, and Pamphleteers.

This would be a sufficient reason, indeed, for entitling the faults of such Authors to considerable palliation; but there are others. A traveller after a long and wearisome journey through a barren and uninteresting country, suddenly arriving at a position from whence he beholds a stupendous object of sublimity, which impresses its image on his mind with a solemn and irresistible power, is not generally induced to indulge in fastidious criticism, or disposed to dissect analytically the scene which affords him such exalted gratification. As therefore all must grant that the works which form the subject of our remarks bear strong analogy to the situation we have supposed, in their noble simplicity, sublime morality, and splendid contrast to the tiresome jargon of affectation and insipidity which has been so long, and so unceasingly ringing in our ears, there will be nothing in our abstinence from the exhibition of petty imperfections, to “make the judicious grieve;” but rather we should humbly trust, much to make them smile in an approving sense, at our consistence with our well meaning design, as expressed in a former paper, to gain for the Poets of America, collectively considered, a favourable introduction to the public. Although the Authors we have considered, and those we are about to notice, have the strongest resources in themselves, wherewith eventually to secure no limited appreciation, we all easily admit the truth of the ancient proverb, regarding the strength of early impressions, and are naturally too much aware of the courtesy due in an eminent degree to “the strange in clime” to insist upon a rigid exposure, and a severe condemnation of their smallest blemishes upon their first appearance among the people of this country, in a truly collective, impartial form: a source of pleasure to the indulgence in which we have every honest claim, and which we publicly declare is ours.* [page 563:]

We should then respectfully commend to our readers the adoption of the old adage,

If metaphysical platitudes, egotistical pomposity, and an unexceptionable exhibition, and unmerciful use of all those refined and ingenious instruments of intellectual torture, which glitter coldly on the table of the critic's laboratory, are sometimes necessary, we must remember that they are more applicable to old and hardened offenders called up to the bar of indignant public opinion, than to those young aspirants to European consideration, whose genius has as yet received but little justice at our hands, and who naturally expect in the old countries of civilized Europe, generous sympathy, and kind attention, instead of bitter malevolence, and pitiless dissection. When established as a body whose merits are sufficiently acknowledged, and whose genius becomes properly respected, the American Poets may hold up their heads in this country as fearlessly as in their own, we shall then be the first to chide the artificial conceit, and to expose the wanton error; but until then we must beg to be excused from joining the bristling ranks, drawn up against an unoffending band, or from levelling those ruthless javelins whose points are dipped in poison, against the breasts of ingenuous, and confiding strangers. Further, therefore, than a fair and unflinching statement of their prominent deficiencies is not the province of this paper, but to that extent we have already gone in our former notice, and in our present task we promise our readers that from the same honest course no divergence shall be perceptible.

One of the most charming peculiarities of the American Poets, is the intense devotion and admiration which they display for the magnificent scenery of their country. They almost all exhibit the liveliest delight in chaunting the gigantic natural wonders of Wood, and Earth, and Water in which it abounds, and in their incomparable descriptions of flood and field there is evident the strongest power of observation, and the most [page 564:] plenteous “harvest of a quiet eye.” Moreover, the manner in which these fresh and beautiful ideas are expressed, are perfectly in consonance with the matter they embody, and the rythm [[rhythm]] used, possesses the exquisite changeable power of the Kaleidoscope, in adapting itself to the diverse nature of the scenic sketches which inspire the Poet's imagination. Their philosophical beauties in like manner are most remarkable, and equally as varied, as they are remarkable. For these reasons, as well as for the many other strong peculiarities common to these Poets, we are induced to conclude, that in order that we may form an adequate idea of the Poetry of the American Authors, and to the end that a taste may be acquired for becoming familiar with their works, it is absolutely necessary that quotations should be given, which by their length and fitness might exemplify their merits. One gem, no matter how brilliant, can hardly afford a just idea of a coronal which is composed of many, and if there be the smallest risk of a Poet's reputation becoming imperilled by parsimonious exemplification, it would be far better to desist altogether from commenting upon his productions, than to persevere in doing that, which bears the semblance of tampering with his celebrity. Strongly impressed with the soundness of this impression, we shall now proceed to the completion of our undertaking, and we feel a strong, though humble, assurance, that the end will prove the justice of an assumption, which is neither the result of immature reflection, or prejudiced inclination.

Whittier is a poet who reflects the magnificence of his country in the majesty of his verse, who embodies all the iron vigor, and enterprising spirit of her sons, in his nervous, ringing language; and all the bold, lofty, and free aspirations of her statesmen, in the unbending and devoted love of freedom, which breathes through his works, like the sighing of the wind through a forest of his native pine trees. Whittier is pre-eminently the American Poet; he is the bard of her solemn forests, and her princely rivers, of all that bewitching picturesque beauty of scenery, and of all the romantic, imaginative characteristics of the native Indian, which Cooper has immortalized in prose: but lie possesses a requisite still more essential for a Poet, who is ambitious of becoming the exponent of Ins country's most cherished glories, and most exalted wishes; lie is the interpreter of the spirit which characterizes [page 565:] and animates the people in their vast commercial achievements, unrivalled moral institutions, and also of those deep philanthropic principles, which agitate the great heart of the nation. His Poetry is often deficient in grace and terseness, it is true, but these negative imperfections are completely lost sight of in the noble simplicity, and masculine energy which it never ceases to evince. To the present generation of readers, whose mental appetites are wofully impaired by the constant supply of unintelligible matter which is served up to them, it is delightfully refreshing to listen to the manly tones of this delicious Poet, whose invigorating poetry, like the spray that rises on the rocks of Niagara, communicates its exhilarating essence to the spirits of the gazer. With what marvellous, and apparently superhuman power, he makes us listen to the roaring of the cataract, the singing of the forest bird, the chirp of the squirrel, or the stealthy tread of the Indian? It is seldom that Whittier enters into subjects of an abstractedly, philosophical, or purely speculative nature, but when he does, it is invariably for the purpose of demonstrating the infinite beauty of virtue, and the omnipotence of God. America rejoices in the bard who is so admirably capacitated to chaunt her glories, and to feed the lamp of her patriotism with such nourishing oil : who can so accurately direct the thunders of her wrath, and so skilfully develop her vast philanthropic desiderations.

so rolls along the noble current of Whittier's verse, and “the lightnings” of its glories, flash upon the mind, until it becomes completely absorbed by their force and brilliancy.

Nevertheless, this Poet is still (and the compliment is a great one) a man of much greater promise, than actual performance, and should his future achievements in verse, realize the conceptions which his early works permit us to entertain, he will evidently obtain one of the first places in that temple, which his country may consecrate to those gifted children, who have devoted their genius, and their lives, to sing her praises, and extend her literary fame. But this celebrity will depend upon the fulfilment of a very important condition, which is, the utter repudiation of sectarian bitterness, — an error as much at variance with justice and enlightenment, as it is beneath the dignity of a Poet. [page 560:]

There is another vitally important reason for the abandonment of such a futile weapon, which more immediately concerns an American; and if the subject of our observations sufficiently appreciates, and resolutely adopts the conduct it suggests, his fame will be wonderfully increased. Ail those who understand the present state of America, will easily grant, that her future eminent position as a nation, will very much depend upon the complete cessation of that religious rancour, from whose lamentable existence the people of the United States have suffered, and are still suffering so extensively. It is therefore an incontrovertible fact, that neither Poet, Historian, Philosopher, or any other person, distinguished in the various branches of literature or science, who supports a system so fatal to the interests of his country, can ever be associated with its glory: while it is equally as plain, that all great intellectual efforts which are embued with the opposite spirit, must be more firmly consolidated, and fully ten-fold enhanced.

In taking up the little volume of Whittier, “The Bridal of Pennacook” is the first poem that meets the eye: it is also one of the longest, and many will consider it the best. It opens with a very animated and graceful description of the River Merrimack, and goes on to describe the scenery sur- rounding the wigwam of the heroine. The portrait of Passaconaway is pencillcd with much art and power. Who would meet, “in desert wilds,” the awful being of whom we hear, that — [column 1:]

Yet this dreaded and mysterious being is not altogether insensible to feeling. The record of his life unfolds one chord in that iron heart, which awakens to the touch of sympathy. He loves his daughter, and —

She is a true type of her race. [column 1:]

It is not possible that such a being could fail in fascinating the heart of the Indian hunter, and the great chief “Winne-puckit,” alias George Sachem of Sangus, pays his addresses and is accepted. The wedding feast is described in a graphic way, and with the greatest minuteness, as these passages may serve to show: —

What beautiful imagery the following lines display: —

Some time elapses, and the old chief regretting his separation from his daughter, and anxious for her return, even for a short time, signifies his wish to Winnepuckit, who accedes, and sends her back to her father, protected by a goodly band of his followers. When the time appointed for her return has arrived, no little wonder is created in the household of Passaconaway, by the non-appearance of Winnepucket, who vows at last that he will receive his wife on no other condition than that she be sent back again to him with the same form, and attended with a retinue as numerous as that which accompanied her on her departure. [column 1:]

The old chief waxes indignant at such a proposal, and solemnly declares.

And again —

Constant however to her attachment, and full of the most etherial devotion for her spouse, Weetamoo resolves on returning to him. In pursuance of this generous determination, she commences her voyage in a frail boat, unaccompanied even by a single attendant. The catastrophe now ensues, one is drowned! and her kindred mourn her untimely fate in ne following beautiful and touching lines: — [page 568:]

“Mogg Megone,” the longest poem in the collection, abounds in fine dramatic passages, and beautiful descriptions; it is not, however, a perfect composition, though there are passages therein, which, for vigor and beauty, have never been surpassed by the author. Its imperfection, as a composite n, is mainly attributable to the great space which intervenes between the completion of the tragic incident and the conclusion of the poem; and in like manner to the length) descriptions which inundate its pages. However, it is to be held in mind that the author's professed object in undertaking this production was, to describe the scenery of New England, and its early inhabitants, and it is impossible to avoid seeing how faithfully this object is realized.

“Mogg Megone,” forcibly reminds us of the poetry of Sir Walter Scott; the same vigorous flow of thought, spirited narrative, dramatic colouring, and glorious descriptive power, which have delighted us, in “Marmion,” or the “Lay of the last Minstrel,” we here behold again in the plenitude of their power. The following description of an Indian warriors costume has never been surpassed even by Cooper — [column 1:]

The outlaw Bonython is thus ushered before us — [column 1:]

Mogg Megone and Bonython proceed together to the cottage of the latter; whose daughter's hand is about to be given to the savage as a reward for his having slain her seducer. While they proceed, the poet seizes the opportunity of presenting us this choice descriptive sketch — [column 1:]

Having reached Bonytbon's hut, his daughter is introduced.

Actuated by that undying attachment for one who has once ton the object of her affection, in which she only exhibits (me of the truest characteristics of her sex, Ruth repents the short-lived anger which prompted her to consent to the destruction of her seducer, and when the bloody scalp of him she once cherished with all the passionate fervor of her young [page 570:] confiding heart, is held before her eyes, her horror knows no bounds, and all the soft associations which stud the memory of her love, rush rapidly on her agonized brain. [column 1:]

With what truth the poet immediately adds — [column 1:]

Bonython, now that he has accomplished his aims, through the agency of the savage, burns with desire to destroy him likewise, thus preventing the necessity of giving him his daughter in marriage. He lacks nerve to execute his fell design; not so Ruth, whom the remorse of love has goaded to the very verge of madness.

Then follows a beautiful descriptive passage: — [column 1:]

Then follows the narrative of Ruth's love, her joy, her shame, her misery, and her crime: — [column 1:]

She then mentions the bitter agony she experienced when the savage trophy of her dead lover is paraded before her: — [column 1:]

Her death concludes the poem, and is thus beautifully narrated: —

These two beautiful poems whose plots we have just been sketching, are followed by many shorter pieces remarkable for great descriptive beauty, dramatic incident, and colouring, among which may be mentioned his fine lines on the “Merrimack,” the fearful masacre [[massacre]] of Pentucket, the story of “Tousaint L’ouverture,” and the “Fountain.” We are forced [page 572:] to become believers in the sanguine theories of those, who prophesy so much future enjoyment of well-regulated freedom for the people of America, when we turn our attention to the fearless independence of this poet, which comes bursting forth in a torrent of words, appropriately graphic, and patriotically suggestive; and we regret that space prohibits us from dwelling any longer on the beauties of one, who presents such a worthy type of the genius and patriotism of America, as evinced by the lire and beauty of his numerous lyrics, to which we earnestly direct the attention of the reader.

The poetry of one of the most extraordinary writers, of his own, or of any other country, is now before us; with the marvellous prose productions of Edgar Allan Poe, so eminently characterized by originality, acuteness, and ingenuity, we have nothing to do. We shall therefore confine ourselves to a consideration of his poetical efforts. Poe is, indeed, a most sad instance of unfortunate genius. Gifted with an intellect of the loftiest, and the most vigorous order, naturally endowed with a physical constitution, which would have warranted him in undertaking the most weighty and stupendous labors to which the intellect can be subjected, he has not only abstained from the adequate exercise of such powers, but he has over and over again, placed the most effectual barriers against the realization of any important achievement, by habits of the most abandoned depravity. “That seductive besetment,” as he termed the disposition to exceed in intoxicating drinks, was the ruin of Poe ; but for it, he might have completely eclipsed all his cotemporaries, and left his successors such evidences of gigantic intellect, as would tax their united energies to equal. It is hardly credible that one so highly gifted as Poe, and embued with such a sensitive love for the beautiful, could by any combination of circumstances be induced to enter into a systematised habit of the very lowest order of vice. Yet, so it was, whether from defective moral training, or an irresistible tendency of his constitution, is a mystery, and his case furnishes the world with one of the most awful and solemn warnings to genius, to which it has ever been its lot to listen. Limited as it is in space, the poetry of Poe is characterized by the most extraordinary and admirable evidences of imaginative power, consistent developement [[development]] of idea, unprecedented sway over language, and wonderful melody [page 573:] in rythm [[rhythm]]. There never yet was a poet who has evinced more capability in investing his subjects with fascinating mystery, or in sustaining his extraordinary ideas with more apposite skill.

In perusing the slender stock of poems which he has given to the world, we cannot help experiencing the most poignant regret, that he, who could mould these perfect forms of art, and endow them with such vitality, has not left us more extended evidences of his genius, that he has not achieved those sublime triumphs which must necessarily have been his reward, had not (he baleful influence of some hidden cause presented insuperable obstacles to the activity of his genius.

The well known poem of “The Raven,” offers an exemplification sufficiently convincing of the peculiar magnitude and mysterious grandeur of Poe's poetry; and also, exhibits in a manner quite unmistakeable, the identity between the author and his subject, which marks almost all Poe's efforts in verse, and which assimilates his poetry, in this respect, to that of Byron. The extraordinary peculiarity of Poe's intellect, will be more apparent to the reader, unacquainted with his productions, when he learns that “The Raven,” from which we shall subsequently extract, is the result, according to the author's declaration, of a synthetical process, the most subtle, laborious, and profound. “ It is my design to render it manifest that no one point in its composition is referible either to accident or intention — that the work proceeded, step by step, to its completion, with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem.” A mind capable of such Herculean energy might triumph over the most enormous obstacles. In the following ([notation, the author's subjectivity will inevitably be detected, by those who have any knowledge of his life: —

But it is not alone the subjectivity which we observe in these stanzas; the almost miraculous symphony with which each line rings upon the car, the admirable sustainment of the leading idea, and the awful shade of mystery which envelopes the whole, are vividly impressed upon our minds. Me bow instinctively before the Titanic genius, the product of whose labor is so stupendous. Take another instance of vague, mysterious sorrow: — [column 1:]

“BRIDAL BALLAD.”

The marvellous melody of the author was never so apparent [page 575:] as in his poem of “The Bells” where the power which he wields in the adaptation and convolution of language, is seemingly supernatural. [column 1:]

“THE BELLS.

To those who have been accustomed to consider Poe as an [page 576:] unsyrnpathizing misanthrope, incapable of sensitive fedin”, or anything approaching to tenderness, the ensuing lines will constitute a theme tor unexpected admiration. [column 1:]

“ANNABEL LEE.

He who has been travelling over mountains “whose vast walls are pinnacled in clouds,” by rivers of mighty grandeur and through forests of colossal height, and immense expanse, will turn with interest and fresh delight, to survey the cultivated beauty of the wood-crowned hill, the deep green meadows, encircled with the dapper hedge row, and the trim parterre adorned with the many-hued flowers: so we, whose admiration and reverence, have been so willingly commanded by the vigorous beauties of Whittier and Lowell, and the solemn magnificence of Longfellow, Bryant, Sigourney, and Poe, will have no objection to rest our dazzled eyes by a peaceful survey of a few of the unpretending beauties of Thomas Buchanan Read.

The poetry of Read produces that soothing effect upon the mind, experienced by the contemplation of quiet scenery; like it, it abounds in simple, unostentatious pictures of calm loveliness; it contains in its unobstrusive pages, many a valuable gem which resembles

“A violet on a mossy bank, half hidden from the eye.”

The author forms no exception to that bright host of poets who have chosen virtue as their motto, and its sacred cans meets an appropriate embellishment in the unaffected grace [page 577:] and sincerity which is so natural to Read. If we read the following verses with attention, we will observe much charming originality, and a liveliness of fancy, well applied, and admirably consistent. [column 1:]

“THE LIGHT OF OUR HOME.

But Read possesses a susceptible heart, as well as a lively fancy, and can give utterance to feelings, which, like the song of the Nightingale, are no less remarkable for pleasing melancholy, than for divine sweetness. [column 1:]

“SOME THINGS LOVE ME.

Narrative, is another of our author's tastes, and one in which he bids fair to succeed. “The Maid of Linden Lane,” possesses a good deal of that mysterious spirit, and solemn air

of prophecy, which invests fable, and often fact with their main attractions: it commences thus: — [column 1:]

“THE MAID OF LINDEN LANE.

We are now about to turn our attention to the works of an author, who not alone resembles Whittier in the nature of his genius, hut also in the assurances of future fame, which his poetry emphatically suggests. Which of the two will eventually outshine the other, it would be hazardous to anticipate; but it is easy to perceive, that, gigantic competition will mark their efforts: if not in the spirit of rivalry between both, at least in the character of the reception which the public may award them. The leading peculiarity of James Russell Lowell, is energy of the most active kind: he grasps his thoughts as Jupiter his thunderbolts, and hurls them to their destined aim, with as much accurate velocity as the Autocrat of Olympus. His knowledge of human nature is vast and subtle. Ins ethics sound and uncompromising, diction copious and flexible, and he knows no political creed distinct from the welfare of Ins country, lie is not always so happy in his ontological and psychological speculations, and we shall expect to see it evidenced in his future product ions, that his ears have been rigidly closed against the alluring whispers of the syren [[siren]] voice, which has, in some instances, beguiled his footsteps. Analytic power, indeed the love of analysis, is another of Lowell's distinguishing traits, he delights to dissect his subjects with the nicety ot a metaphysician, and to peer with microscopic exactness, into the dim recesses of its contemplative materials. One other of his characteristics, which assist in establishing the similarity we have alluded to, is, the wizard potency of his descriptive talent. This, however, has never induced the subject of our remarks tn indulge in rhapsodical prolixity; for as he himself tells us, man should constitute the theme of the Poets of the new world. This comprehensive doctrine ci whose evident utility we have slightly commented at the commencement, acknowledges Lowell as its most earnest advocate to him it principally owes its promulgation, and already [page 579:] acquired celebrity; and in his hands it may yet achieve its sublimest triumphs. His superhuman vigor, perceptive intellect and undisguised reverence for this principle, mark him out as the apostle who will most eminently (levdope the tenet it commands. The Vision of Sir Launfal is a specimen of the perfect ballad, written in a spirited and interesting manner; the language is appropriate, and might well have been chaunted by the minstrels of Provence. The preludes therein contain some lovely sketches of nature: the following is from the First Prelude: —

“The Sirens,” is a poem containing abundant instances of sparkling, and playful fancy: it is not unlike the “Merman and Mermaid” of Tennyson in spirit. If we delight (as who does not) in a beautiful idealized picture, “Irene” affords us one such as we shall seldom happen to feast our eyes upon: it demonstrates in the most lucid manner, the author's individualizing power, exhibits great loftiness of thought, much veneration for virtue, and is clothed in a becoming solemnity of language; accept the following evidence: — [column 1:]

Written in a bold, yet thoughtful manner, “Prometheus” contains many fine passages, remarkable for their philosophical import, and magnificent imagery: pregnant with majestic warning, these lines roll on, like the ominous pealing of thunder —

Like all true poets, Lowell “Touched each key of the lyre, and was master of all.” His flexible and comprehensive genius can create, not only the massive master-piece of intellectual origin, but in like manner can revel in the dazzling and sportive regions of fancy: “The Fountain” serves as an excellent specimen of his lyric power. [column 1:]

“THE FOUNTAIN.

In “An Incident in a Railway Car,” we are supplied with an instance of the poet's wisdom, truthful teaching, deep philosophical and investigating mind. “To Perdita singing”, is [page 581:] a charming effusion, and establishes the lyric power of the author on an irrefutable, basis.

An excellent satire on the great short-comings in some branches of our modern poetry, is contained in “An Ode,” page 87; it takes a most comprehensive, and apparently prophetic view of the poetry which after ages will bring forth: the passionate aspirations for the extension of philanthropy which it manifests, the rugged energy of, the language, with its masterly analysis of things, speaks volumes for the future achievements of its author. Equally with the former, the energetic and hopefully thoughtful poem of “Columbus,” sustains the high character of Lowell: it contains some magnificent passages. With what sublimity Columbus exclaims,

And then he relates the history of the hope that encouraged him: — [column 1:]

It would be almost impossible for any poet to evince more gigantic power of description than Lowell has compressed into his “Summer Storm,” a masterly production of its kind, and replete with wonderful energy and truthfulness. As it is particularly characterized by much minute sketchings of natural objects, hitherto untouched by either the pen of the poet or the brush of the painter, it would be high treason against, good taste to pass over unnoticed “The Indian Summer Reverie.” The great analytic power, and the poetical observation it manifests, with the appropriate beauty of the language, render it befitting that the reader should have an opportunity oi beholding a ten instances of these beauties. [page 582:]

Blessings on the poet, whose power of observation enables him to present ns so constantly fresh objects for admiration, and consequently fresh motives for thanksgiving and gratitude to the Lord of ail. Even the, humble blackberry is not forgotten; see with what inimitable accuracy its retreat is sketched and its growth described. [column 1:]

The same lulling, overpowering inclination to apathetic case and luxurious repose, which is so apparent in the “Lotus Eaters” of Tennyson, is strongly perceptible in the lines which immediately ensue.

Again, how beautifully the effect of winter is contrasted with the bloom of summer.

It would be difficult to select and ingenious imagery than the two stanzas more full of fresh following: —

We come now to one of the prettiest poems in the book, namely, the ode “To the Dandelion”; no impartial person capable of distinguishing merit, will read this gem of poetical art unmoved, or willingly deny the title of Poet to the author of its sunny imagery, graceful language, and original conception.

“Studies for two Heads” is graphic, and the portraits are taken in that spirit of analysis, and with that great knowledge of human nature, which Lowell constantly evinces. Metaphysical beauty, religious confidence, and philanthropy, lend their important influence in adorning the “Elegy on the Death of Dr. Channing,” and the “Fable for Critics” establishes the author's right to membership in that awful association. We shall now present the reader with “The Changeling,” the last and perhaps the most beautiful of all the extracts we have taken from Lowell's poetry. It is truly a charming piece, highly imaginative, simple and pathetic, and invested with a nameless grace and etherial fascination.

“THE CHANGELING.

In N. P. Willis, the author of “Pencillings by the Way,” we have another Poet, who, like Longfellow, possesses elegance and beauty of expression to such a degree, that all his other qualifications as a Poet, become overshadowed by their pre-eminence; and we are furnished by him with another potent argument against the insinuations of those who cannot behold anything in America which bears the slightest resemblance to refinement. This artistic elaboration is no where more apparent than in his Scriptural Poems, which are particularly remarkable for high polish, and incomparable smoothness. Willis is, however, deficient in originality, by which lie is debarred from rivalling some of his more creative brethren in the arena of thought. If a palm should be allotted for elegant taste, and rythmical excellence, it may not be too much to say that this author would enter the lists, with a fair prospect of becoming the successful competitor for the prize. Wit of a very refined and elevated order, is another peculiarity of this Poet. His “Lady Jane,” (which has a marked resemblance to “Don Juan,”) has many brilliant passages, pregnant with satirical humour. Added to these, Willis possesses a fine imagination, great taste, and a sound judgment. In common with all the transatlantic bards, he is somewhat diffuse, but “ the wheat is much more plentiful than the tares,” and the fault is easily pardoned for the sake of his many beauties, “‘The healing of the Daughter of Jairus,” is written in a strain of chaste and exquisite melody, displaying to very great perfection the rich and wide imagination of the author, his consummate taste and fluency). The lines which follow have all the “ faint exquisite music of a dream.”

“The Leper” is another instance of this easy flowing grace and rich melody; the language is exquisite and beautiful. [page 585:]

The same may be said of the Sacrifice of Abraham, which is characterized by a certain dignity, nearly akin to sublimity. These extracts will serve to exemplify another valuable peculiarity of this author, which is, the very great power he can exercise in eliciting our sympathies, He makes us enamoured of whatever he pleases, and invests his subjects with marvellous fascinations; “Thoughts while making the Grave of a new-born Child,” will be generally received as an admirable example of the most exquisite tenderness, united with moral beauty of an exalted kind; true and deep love of nature are evident in all its passages; it merits introduction.

”Parrhasius,” a poem too long for insertion, is written in a picturesque and graphic way; eminently dramatic, it places the Captive before our eyes; we behold his agonized features, and listen with horror to his groans. Added to these it affords us an admirable instance of the fearful exaggerations which follow an ill-directed ambition. The rich and cultivated imagination of Willis, his melody, delicate, and glowing colouring, and earnestness pervading all, are most happily associated in his beautiful Poem “To Ermengarde.” [page 586:]

The charming lines called “Spirit-Whispers,” are very classical in their allegorical meaning, and chaste beauty.

“SPIRIT-WHISPERS.

Our next quotation conveys the expression of the effect produced on the bard by the memory of his mother; it is delineated with a gigantic force which seems like inspiration mingled withal with child-like tenderness.

“BITTER MOMENTS.

In the pretty Lyric which immediately ensues, we are furnished with a terse and elegant specimen of descriptive beauty, characterized by comprehensiveness of expression: it conveys [page 587:] more to the mind than if it were decked out in diffuse and elaborated imagery. [column 1:]

“MAY.

“On seeing a beautiful Boy at play,” possesses much finish, and contains bursts of rapture equalling the outpourings of the loftiest world poets; to use the words of the poem itself, it is “like a painter's fine conception.”

“ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL BOY AT PLAY.

Eschewing all sensual gratification, and all the syren [[siren]] persuasions of ambition, the Poet exhibits in “The table of Emerald,” the possession of a well organized mind, and an elevated and highly intellectual taste. The “Extract from a Poem” is philosophical in its tendency: defending the honorable ambition [page 588:] of man, in seeking tv unlock new treasures in the store- houses of creation, for the laudable purpose of enriching humanity by their contents, the Poet points out another course to be followed with advantage and pleasure by the less ambitious portion of mankind ; namely, to read the book of nature, to indulge in healthful contemplation, to wander occasionally by the stream, the grove, and the hill-side: to listen to the chant of the bird, to behold and analyze the beauty of the leafy forest, to rejoice in the sunshine, but to tremble in the storm; the heart will be improved by its suggestions.

In the preceding pages we have endeavoured to illustrate the predominant features in the works of live principal American Poets. It is to be Imped that the reader is now pretty well acquainted with the distinguishing traits of the Poets of America, arid that lu is conscious of the fact, that they possess far more than the requisite celebrity, for the foundation of a National Poetry, and are likely to hold in the eyes of posterity, t he places in their own country, which Chaucer, and his earlier followers occupy in England.

The most considerable portion of their works may be appropriately denominated storehouses of intellectual materials, varied, and of that fecund nature which seems particularly suited to the reproduction of ideas. The authors themselves in a great, measure, typify distinct poetic attributes. Longfellow may inspire a future Spenser; Poe, a second Dante; Whittier, another Burns, and the deep knowledge of human nature which Lowell possesses, may create another Shakespeare to immortalize an American Avon. It is consoling to reflect that these are no utopian suppositions, and, that the existing order of things permit their future realization: are not the stupendous miracles of nature which their country contains, evidences, sufficiently convincing, of the incentives to transcendant [[transcendent]] genius which she supplies? Do not her broad Canadian lakes, those inland seas, her forests that sepulchre the earth for miles, her “palaces of nature,” the “earth over-gazing mountains,” her mighty rivers, and her endless prairies, speak more than the tongues of a nation, of the undying lays which are to chronicle their majestic beauty?

In addition to the conclusions which are to be derived from the potent influence of such advocacy, we have also to consider the human achievements which must necessarily take place, upon whose multiplied, and complicated grandeur, it would be [page 589:] impossible to speculate, and whose fame will naturally constitute the theme for the exercise of intellectual power equally as remarkable. Poetry in America will inevitably exhibit phases, distinct from any it has hitherto manifested throughout the world : the peculiar spirit of enterprise which characterizes its people, the unprecedented rapidity with which they have risen from n state of infancy, to one of towering greatness, their unconquerable activity of mind, and their unceasing aspiration for higher excellence, must obviously affect the character of their literature, as much as of their laws. If the muse first exercised her influence among the Jewish race; it is probable she shall end her mission on the other side of the Atlantic ; to profess this belief is merely to coincide in the long established, and well grounded conviction with reference to the termination of earthly power, and the race of man. How then ail! the spirit of Poetry appear, previous to her translation to the skies ? What mellow hues will be selected to adorn that celestial robe, attired in which, she will unfold to earth's latest progeney, the hoarded treasures of time, the wisdom of buried centuries she has gathered? Will she not, like one of the Angels in the Apocalypse, “Her face as the sun, and her feet as pillars of fire,” be “clothed with a cloud, and have a rainbow on her head?” her divine origin will then assert itself, and the glory of her triumph on the earth will convey her to her melodious home in paradise. Ere this mighty consummation, much remains to be effected, towards the improvement of the human race, which poetry in conjunction with genuine philosophy can accomplish: by continuing as they have begun, the Poets of America will follow the surest course to the anticipated goal, with the spirit of truth, and the love of freedom for their guides, they will easily overcome the impotent though untiring efforts, which the enemies of man are constantly making to uproot the foundations of moral principle; strengthened as they proceed, they will gradually segregate themselves from their European brethren, by creating and consolidating peculiarity of attributes, and originalty [[originality]] of style, while they nourish and shadow forth in even more robust proportions, those excellencies for which the former have acquired so much incomparable celebrity; obliterating all traces of that slightly upsetting philosophy which seems to be based on the astonishing perfection of the “Ego,” they will replace it by a steady national feeling, which, though it less “o’er-steps [page 590:] the modesty of nature,” will be equally, if not more determinedly firm, vivid, and strongly interwoven with the feelings of the heart. Moreover, as we have hitherto affirmed, and, as we now reiterate, not actuated by the spirit of prophecy, but by the influence begotten of a rational reflection, the principle which now guides them, if continued, will enable them to perfect the study of man, and give to America, and the world, not alone what civilization gave to Europe, but what she has never as yet given in any sphere, universal philanthropy, which shall rest on stable foundations, and defy the machinations of the wicked.

[[Footnotes]]

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 562, running to the bottom of page 563:]

* A reviewer in one of the Dublin papers, disposed to question this claim of ours as set forth in the last Number of this REVIEW, supported his asseveration by referring to the New Monthly, which bore date about a twelvemonth earlier than our paper. We have perused an Article on “American Authorship” in the New Monthly for June, 1854, and had that instead of Sir Nathaniel's title embodying a collective review “in esse,” it has only the power of doing so “in posse,” inasmuch as the [page 563:] paper of which we speak is confined to the consideration of one poet merely, and the tone of dissertation, notwithstanding the ability displayed, is so caustic and satirical, as to shut out completely, the possibility of its being considered a fair introduction to the public, of the individual whose works are submitted to analytical investigation.