New-York tribune., 1842-02-03

Perhaps there is more cant than strict truth in
wlmt i. often said about the early promise Of poet
who dies young. Perhaps sometimes mistake
the fruit for the blossom. What though the min
slrel has struck his harp but for an hour 2! Per-
chance that brief space has called forth It's deepest
harmony. What though the carlv-callcd has not
written an epic or a tragedy II wc look thought
fuv at his lyric sonnet, shall discover, il may
be, the of his genius there preserved. What
if he died Young There Is n poetry that cannot
survive youth We are ever lamcnting thar an adj
mrcd bard does nor undertake ], great work when
il is more probable that such an Office is not adapted
TO his powers. Tmnator>is is as precious it
it formed part Of some long poem, which few would
read If il is objected that the poctica efforts of
our day are fragmcnary, lct ii be remembered that
time, reading, and our very life, parakc of
the same character 1t is not the amount nor the
FORM but the intrinsic excellence of poetic crca-
tions, which is our highest concern. Some of the
most living and true verses in our language have
been written in youth. 1t is the divine peculiarly
Of the art that it demands not, bu. rather rcpud-
atcs the lessons of litc thar prudelcc cXtos. The
Young poet sometimes executes what the old phi
losophcr cannot appreciate. In the freshness Of
the soul are often taken its noblcSt flights The
dreams Of youth are sometimes the most truly glo-
lions efforts of the human mind. The poetry of
Keats is not all a icycrish nttcmpt; it is often
a mature result. He has al least left one poem.
which, for invention, structure, imagery, and ALT the
elements of the ART, is rs tautlcSs and as rare n
gem as can be found in English literature. Judged
BY lis own law, Is production OF itself sufficient
stamp the author with the name of 4 poet. 1t
it docs net live, it will be because taste and the love
Of the beautiful have died The Eve of ST. Agnes
is delightful and original performance. Whata
idea OF cold the first sanza conveys
81, Agnes Eve-Ah. bitter chill it was!
The eow, for all hi> feathers, Is a-cold;
The hare lmpei! trembling through the frozen oraS-
And silent was the hock in woolly lol
iii, rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Lik. pi0l. incense from crl>oro old,
Seemed liking !ia;t Tor heaven. without death,
Pas, thu sweet Virgins picture @le his prayer ht saith
This description of moonlight streaming through
a stained glass window is acknowledged 10 b. un-
riyacd
Full on the ca>tnen, sione tie winiry noon
And threw warm cu-> on Matelne fair breast.
As down she knell Tor Heaven. grace and boom
Ro>e.boom fell on her and,, together prcst,
And on her silver eros. SOFT amethyst,
And on her hair a glory. like saint:
She seemed 4 splendid angel, newly dre>,.
save wings, TOR Heaven
What poet ever described a maiden .unrobn. in
terms OF such delicate and graphic beauty these:
Anon her heart revivts: her ve>pcrs done.
Oi all l> wreaihet! pearls her hair She trees;
Cnc!a>ps her warmed levels one by one;
1-oo>ens her ira grant 5oidice: by legrrr.
Her rich attire creeIe ru>tilno 10 her knees
lia-hld,!cn, like mermaid weed,
PcIl>iyt awhile she dreams awake, &C.
Nor is this all The poet follows the fair crea-
ture 10 her couch, and describes her soul in sleep
Bl>sully !ayeirl both from, Joy anL pain;
C!asped like ,ni>,al where >wart Payn,l> pray;
Blinded alike from ,uils!llir and from ram,
As though rose should shut. and be bud again
With this last exquisite metaphor take leave of
Keats His genius flower Of uncommon rich
ness and, although he mcckiv lamcnts that it had
" no depth TO strike in, its bloom and perfume
will never cease 10 carn-tor he ;lS truly said that
:, thing OF beauty Is JOY for ever