The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1853-02-21

Mr. Longfellow Are we really TO believe that he
smells of birthstone Is it a fact that Frar Cuth
bert tail was carefully concealed under the folds Of
his robe Did the doctor Of Salem wear boots which
concealed his hoofs! 1t is high time that we had
some light on this subject, now that he is becoming
stock character in modern poetry.
he is the spirit Of evil, you will tell US. Not the
conventional sovereign Of imp-dom, whose physical
Peculiarities used to apprise simple people of his
identity, and who was known to resist the sight
OF an orthodox Donai Bible, the cabalistc
devil of the catechism "going to and fro like
roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour.'
The modern Lucifer has no such carnverous
propensities; he il embarrassed by no caudal
appendage, and might safely be measured for patent
feathers by the most stylish shoemaker in Broadway.
On the contrary, he partakes rather more of the
fairy than the devil He descendsi in direct line from
Merlin and the hero OF the invisible cap perfect
gentle man is this Lucifer when he pleases and on
the whole, rather pleasant fellow Some lurking
malice there is about him, TO be but he carries
il OF with such a delightful air of good breeding
that YOU cannot avoid the conclusion that his home
cannot DO the uncomfortable place we used to hear
OF at school. You rather envy the ease with which
he performs the most difficult undertakings and
though, poor fellow the public morals require that
he should be discounted in the end he plays his part
so clevery and 50 earnestly that you rather feel dis
appointed when he vanishes in d paroxysm of veXa-
ton and fash Of lightning.
TO be serious-the constant appearance Of Lucifer
IN modern poetry is no proof of the fertility of
the imagination OF our poets. 1t argues sad
poverty OF fancy to he compelled to introduce
nursery myth on the stage in order TO give interest
to the plot or develope the incidents OF the tale If
the realities OF modern life do not furnish matter for
the bard let him hold his peace we want no resur-
rection OF the weird superstitions OF past age.
But simple glance at the shelves OF library is
is conclusive against such an assumption. The ma
terals for poetry cannot be wanting in an age which
has produced the " Song OF the Shirt the Bridge
OF Signs the poems OF Tennyson or the ballads of
Macaulay. Let Mr.. Longfellow close for once
the books whence he derives his inspiration
let him foreswear Goethe and his conntrymen-
let him the vanities Of the past and stead
lastly fix his eyes the substantial realities of the
present-he will lind fund Of ideas which lifetime
OF writing could not exhaust. The human heart is
a yet an uneypored wilderness. All the poets Of
the past have but SKINNED its surface: many nook
and Granny of its depths has yet TO be sounded Mr..
Tennyson wrote avolume on one passon-gref. Let
Mr.. Lonefellow follow his example and try whether
be cannot elicit sympathy without calling spirits
from the realms Of Pluto.
We shall, perhaps, be told that the plot Of the
Golden Legend" is a secondary matter-a mere
thread on which to string poetic pearls Without adj
hitting that this would he any justification Of the
license assumed by the author, pass on to the ex
animation of the pearls Many there are, undoubt-
edly, and of rich price. Many line many page,
touching bard Of Acadia. Nothing can be pref
tier than the legend of the monk Felix: nothing
more gentle and naf than several Of The descriptions
OF rural scenery. But there are not few pearls on
mayed. Some are defective in shape and form
others lack lustre; and some are obviously clumsy
limitations If there is quality in which Mr.. Long
fellow is supposed to excel, it is certainly in the
smoothness and harmony of his verse. Apart from
all considerations of the propriety Of attempting hex
ameters in English. will deny that most of Mr..
Longfeows published poems are unsurpassed in
this respect. The lines flow on like gentle river;
consonants and yowels glide past without ripple,
and the ear is gently Graded to the meodous sound
As much cannot be said Of the Golden Legend.
Hardly page but contains rude violation of the
laws OF metre trochees, iambc and anapests are
umbled together regardless of effect. and very fire.
quently the whole reads like Demonstrated prose.
In the familiar dialogues all idea of rhythm seems to
have been abandoned, probably with the view Of
making the persOnages speak naturally; as for in
stance, in the following passage, which is mere
rhymed prose-
GoTTIIsH All yea we all
Love him from the bottom of our hearts
He gave Us the farm the house and the grange;
He gave US the horses and carts,
And the great oxen IN the stall
The vineyard and the forest range
We have nothing to give him but our love Up. 81
But equally striking false quantities occur in pas
sages of higher order. For instance
hope longing, an endeavor,
BIZ days NJ pen0rlce, and nights of prayer,
TO Illustrate and defeat despair Up. 1881
volume Of Saint Augustine
Wherein he read of the
SpteadoTs Of Gods great toecr
In tte e1lk7soac7s land (p. a.
OF the horrors, and crimes, and sins and woes,
That arise tchen. ruth pripitdtiYg thross,
The graveyard in the human heart
Gires up has dead at the Of the priest (p s5).
Pray for the living. in whose breast
The struggle between right and W1-LrQ
Is raging terrible aud strong.-(p. 1859
When 10 the women standing near
The angels an shining rsstuve Sasd-
The Loi d Is risen be is not here.-(p lie
We could go on enumeratng similar Earring lines,
until we had far exceeded the space allotted u.s. but
we will only add one more, a sad blemish in pas.
sage of exceeding beauty
The night il calm and cioudles4
And still as still can be
And the stars forth 70 listen
To the music Of the
Tho, gather and gather and gather,
Until they crowd the sky
And listen IN breathless silence
To the solemn litany.
II begins n rocky coverns,
A. voice that chatnts alone
To the pedals OF the organ
IN m0rotosops unoeytU9s
And anon from shelving beachss
And shallow sands beyond
In white robes uprsn.
The ghostly choir respond.
Then sadly ana unceasing
The mouTnful voice sings
And the snow-white choirs still answer,
Christie Eeison,-(p. 251)
The frequency of double rhymes is by no means a
merit, nor can any apology atone for such careless
rhymes as Moor" aud eYii doer.' (p. 1889 These
are trihes; bnt Professor Longfellow ought TO be
above reproach.
As might be expected the Golden Legend is not
free from those fine drawn conceitswhch lave marred
several of Mr. Longfelows best poems Thus speak
ing Of sunset, he says
The day is done, and slowly from the scene
The stopping upgathers his spent shafts,
And puts them back into his golden culver. (p 80
We viii not invade the province of our scientific
brethren by applying the test Of astronomy to the
performance here attributed TO the sum- but as vota.
ries of plain common sense, we may be permitted to
smile at the idea OF that luminary spending the twi
light in picking up the rays ne has shed during the
day and economically storing them for future use
So, in describing the at the hour he says
Silent. majesticai, and slow,
The white ships haunt Il to and fro,
With sl their ghostly sails unfurled
As phantoms from another world
Haunt the dim confines Of existence. (p. 248.)
In the name Of all the ghosts in ghostdom where
in lies the resemblance between departed spirit and
. San Francisco clipper between the spectre in
Hamlet and Newcastle collier!
We confess that we do not like the Latin and
Greek verses. OF Latin rhymes we had enough in
our college days; and we shrewdy suspect our read