Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1847-05-28
From an article in T'ait's Magazine.
Hoods Ballads.


The two best OF ms grave Pa!helic Iyric9
are me song OF Inc oUlf'' anu tnG pi'uge
oil signs" me hfSt was certainly Iioou :
great MT, ai'hough we were DIS nucl ashamed
as rflolceu atl'S success we c'u9"'u wy"
we ,houS"t VIA d : 'n", e'"so " us ~ ~
heeueu sucn al I"''ouuc.ron W ne puD
ana maj lhouSa"ue onu 'en' = '""
"eIe now, II us um'0 u"o
VINO . l"VlhuS i!opu |" ."J,'i S
even 'ne IedueIS ~ '"e uge "aN d. y ". anJ
OF ms name VI 'neS s"" ~ 30" "II U
oonn.c'eu W. d 80 us az Ii. 500
-out "o1 oo''e' ''a many ~ HsLt ,mnn
poe"i9 II e. - %, q ~ msh, ITt IT,.
nc Il'H''oe'lou'ey VI ''"o "'O u" ''' '0
u "n"N'Peaio'
"lhere Is a zoe IN Inc ailllfs OF men
Which, taken at the hood, leads on 10
fortune
Alas! in Hoods instance, 10 fortune it did
not lead, and the fame was brief lightning
before darkness.
And what is the song which made Hood
awake one morning and find himself Ia
nous! Its great merit is its truth. Hood
sits down beside the poor seamstress as be-
side a sister, counts her tears, her stitches,
her bones-too transparent by far through the
sallow skin-sces that though degraded. she
- - Oh'" S''' '' 'S''E 'lf -
Him that liveth forever and ever, that he will
make her wrongs and wretchedness known to
the limits of the county, and of the race
And bark how to that cracked, tuncless
voice, trembling under lis burden OF sorrow
now shrunk down into the whispers OF weak
ness and now shuddeIlng up Into the laugh
ter OF despair, all Britain listens Tor a mo
ment-aHd tor 10 l~ongef-llstens, meets
talks, and does little or nothing. 1t was
much mat one shrlll shfleK conid rise ana re-
vertebrate ABOVE mat world OF wlld confused
wallIngs, which are the true cries OF Lon
dom; but, aias! that 1t has gone down
again into the abyss, and that we are now
employed IN criticlslhg It's artistic quail'y IN
stead OF recording Its moral elect. Not, al
together IN vain, indeed, has 1t sounded, II II
have comiorted one lonely heart, 1t 1t have
GedeWed Win tears one arlu eye, and saved
even enc sufferer a pang OF a kind which
Shakespeare only saw IN part, when he spoke
OF the proud MANS contumely the CON
tumely OF a proud, lmperious, fashionable
hard-hear'ed comaH-" one mat was IA wo-
man, but, rest her soul, shes dead.
Not the least striking nor Impressive ihlng
IN this "Sopg oil the Smrt is IT'S h~allJest,
ing tone, and light, easy galIop. sound
In the street 50 lamcnlable as the laughter OF
Il 'O't lelidle. ! lIhe uiulplc On 'I'0 'eu
waves OF he'll. IT. is more melancholy thar
even The death-cough shnehlng up through
her shattered frame, for that speaks OF rest,
death, the grave, iorgetiulness, perhaps for
giveness. so Hood, into the centre Of this
true tragedy, has, with a skilful and sparing
Land, dropped a pun or two, a conceit or two.
ard these quibbles are precisely what make
you quake. Every tear binders needle and
thread. =" reminds us distinctly ofthese words
occurring in the very centre of the Lear ago
ny, "Nuncle, it is IA naughty night 10 swim
-, in." Hood, as we'll as Shakespeare, knew
that to deepen the deepest woe of humanity
D., it is the best way to show it in the lurid ligh
Of mirih that there Is a sorrow too deep 70
tears, too deep for signs, but none too dec