New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1845-07-18

with them, might also, from above, be sotened INTO
beauty and found subservent TO a noble design in
the whole.
This town boosted few books, and the accident
which threw Hood poems in the way OF the watch
er from the hill was very fortunate one They al
forded true companionship TO hours which knew
no other. and perhaps, have since been overrated
from association with what they answered to or
suggested.
Ye, there are surely passages in them which
ought to be generally known and highly prized-
And if their highest value be for few individuals
with whom they are especially in concord, unlike
the really great poems which bring something to
all. vet those whom they please will be very much
pleased
Tbe.e few remarks we will add and then to the
poems.
Hood never became corrupted into a hack writer.
This shows great strength under his circumstances
Dickens has fallen and Sue is falling, for few men
can sell themselves by inches without losing cuoit
from their stature. But Hood resisted the danger
He never wrote when he had nothing to say he
stopped when he had done and never dashed for
a second meal Old thoughts which had been drained
of their choicest juices. His heart IS truly human
tender and brave From the absurdiiies OF human
nature he argues the possibility of It's perfection.
His black is admirably contrasted with his white,
but his love has no converse OF hate. His descrp'
tons Of nature ifnot accurately or profoundly EVIL
dencing insight. are unstudicd fond, and reveren-
tial They are fine reveries about nature.
He has tried his powers themes where he had
great rivals-in The plea ofthe Midsummer Fairies
and Hero and Leander" The latter is one OF the
fines, subjects in the world and one, too which can
never wear out as long each mind shall have It's
separate ideal Of what a meeting would be between
two perfect lovers in the full bloom OF beauty and
youth. under circumstances the most exalting 10
passion because the most trying and with the most
romantic Accomplishments OF scenery There is
room here for the finest expression OF love and grei'
for the widest remonsirancc against fate. Why are
they made so lovely and so beloved-why was
flower brought TO such perfection, and then cnled
for no use One of the older English writers has
written an exquisite poem this subject, painting
youthful pair, fitted TO be not only heaven but
world 10 one another Hood had not power 10
mint or TO conceive such fulness OF character but
in lesser style, he has written fine poem The
best part of it, however, is the innocent cruelty and
grief Of the Sea Syren.
"Lycus the Ceniaur' il also poem once read
never to be forgotten The hasty trot OF the vcrslh
cation unfit for any other theme, on this beiokcns
well the frightened horse. Its may and Devil
dcred imagery. with its countless glanclngs and
climpscs expresses owerfully the working OF the
Circean spell while the note of human sadness
.brll. f1rh
the whole and gives II unity
This is passage from Lycuss wanderings alter
the witch had transformed him from man to Cen
taur:
Oh : once had haunt cot where meiheri
Daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smoher
Its eyelds in kisses and then in its sleep
Sang dreams IN its ear OF is manhood, whilc deep
In a thcket OF willows cazcd DER the brooks,
That murmurcd between and kissed them with looks
But the willows unbosOmcd their secret, and never
| returned to a spot had startled forever
Though Oft longcd 10 know but could ask II OF none
Was the mother still fair, and how big was her SOM
For the hauniers of fields they all stunned me by hight
The men in their horror, the women IN inghti
None ever remained a child once that sported
Among the wild bluebells, and payfuly cour'ed
The breeze and beside him spcckled snake lay
Tight strangcd because 1t had Kissed hiIn away
From the flower his finger he rose and drew near,
Like Son of Immortals, one born to no fear
But with strength of black locks and with eyes azure
bright,
To grow 10 large manhood of merciiu might.
He came with his face of bold wonder, 10 feel
The hair of my side and to lin up my heel,
And questioned my face with wide eyes but when under
NV lids he saw tears-for wept at his wonder
He stroked me. and uttered such kindness then,
That the love of women the friendship OF men
In past sorrow no kindness eer came Ike a kiss
On my heart in its desolate day such as this
And yearned at his cheeks in my love- and down bent,
And lifted him up in my arms with intent
To kiss him-but he, cruel kindly.-aas
Held out 10 my lips plucked handful OF grass
Then dropt him in horror. but felt as fed
The stone he Indignantly hurled at my head
That discovered my ear, but iet not whose fate
Was meet more distress IN his love than MS nate
Is il not fine the portrait of the child born,
To grow 10 large manhood of mercifu might,
and the Centaur no ding him up while he offers the
handful of grass Ancient sculptors might have
sloried in such theme as the contrast betwixt the
two forms presents Fair Ines The Ballad
She's up and gone, the graceless Girl and 8" re-
member" more widely known than most OF those
from having been set to music, all OF equal orr
ginality and beauty.
We must quote three poems, different in style
from one another and equally distinguished, the first
as picture, the second for its lyric tenderness and
elevation of sentiment the last the finest OF those
reveries upon nature we have spoken Of
RUTH
SHE stood breast high amid the corn,
Clasped BY the golden light OF morn.
Like the sweetheart OF the sun.
Who many glowing kiss had won
On her cheek an autumn flush
Deeply ripened such blush
In the midst of Brown WAS born.
Like red peoples grown with corn
Round her eyes her tesses fell
Which biackesi none could tell
But long sshes yelled light
That had else been all too bright
And her hat. with shady brlm
Made her trc-sy forehead dim
Thus she stood amid the stocks,
Praising God with sweetest looks -
Sure, said heaven did not mean,
Where resp thou shouldsi but CLEAN.
Law thy sheat adOwn and come,
share my harvest and my home.
BALLAD.
sigh on sad heart tor Loves eclipse
And Beauty's iaire-t queen
Though Z Is not for my peasant lips
To soil her name between
king might lay his sceptre down,
But am poor and noughi
The brow should wear golden crown
That wears her in its thought.