The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-11-10
LITERARY NOTES.

lish war Poetry of the South" u handsome
volume OF four hundred and eighty-two pages
edited by Mr.. William Gilmore Simms, and CON
tanning over two hundred specimens of verse,
good, bad, and Indifferent. As a collection it
compares favorably, we think, with the earlier
collections of Mr. Frank Moore and Mr.. Richard
Grant White.
"Tbough sectional IN its character" SAYS Mr..
Slmms IN his preface, land indicative of temper
and q feeling which in conflict with nation
ality, yet, now that the STATES OF the Union have
been resolved into one nation, this collection is
essentially much the property of the whole as are
the captured cannon which were employed against
IT during the progress OF the aGe 1t belongs to
the national literature, and will hereafter be re-
parded as constituting proper part of It., just as
legitimalely to be recognized by the nation as
the rival ballads OF the Cavaliers and Roundheads
by the English, in the great CIVIL conflict OF their
county"
All the Southern poets with whom we were
previously acquainted are represented in its
pages. Among the best known names are those
of MIR. Henry TmrOd, MIR. Paul II. Hayne, Mr..
James Barron Hope, Mr. John r. Thompson,
Mr.. A. j. Requir Mr.. Alexander b. Meeks, Mr..
George II. Miles, Mr.. Albert Pike, Mr. Henry
l.. Flash, Mr.. James K. Randall, Mr. John Esten
Cooke, aud Mr. Simms himself.
Some of the best lyrics in the volume are by
comparatively unknown writers, as Frank
Ticknor, of Georgia, whose "Old Riheman" is
an admirable little ballad. That prolific poet
ANONYMOUS" has done himself or possibly
herself in this instance full justice IN this touch
Ing poem:-
ENLISTED TO-DAY.
| know the sun shines, and the lilacs are blow
ing,
And summer sends kisses by beautiful MAY
Oh! TO see all the treasures the spring is be-
slowing,
And thinkEmy boy Willie enlisted to-day.
1t seems but day since at twilight, low hum
ming,
rocked him to sleep with his cheek upon
WhI1a Rohhv thp four-vaar old wofnhaJ for fho
coming
Of father, adown the streets indistinct line.
1t is many year since my Harry departed,
TO come back no more in the twilight or
dawn:
And Robby grew weary of watching, and started
Alone on the journey his father had gone.
1t IS many year-and this afternoon sitting
At Robbys old window, | heard the band
And suddenly ceased dreaming over my knit
To recoliiect Willie is twenty to-day.
And that, standing beside HIM this soft May-day
morning,
The sun making gold of his wreathed cigar
smoke,
l saw in mis- sweet ewes and lips faint warning
Aad choked down the Iears when he eagerly
spoke:-
Dear mother, you know how these Northmen
are growing,
They would trample the rights of the South
in the dust;
The boys are all fire; and they wish were
going"
He stopped, but his eyes SAID, "Oh, say if
mustm
I smiled on the boy, though my heart seemed
My eyes filled with tears, so I turned them
away,
And answered him, willie, tits well you are
waking
Go, act as your father would bid you, to-day ="
| sit in the window, and see the flags flying,
And drearly list to the roll of the drum,
And smother the pain that in my heart is lying,
And bid ali the fears in my bosom be dumb.
| shall sit in the window, when summer is lying
Out over the felds, and the honey-bee's hum
Lulls the rose at the porch from her tremulous
signing,
And watch for the face ofmy darling to come.
And if he should fall-his young life he has
given
For freedoms sweet sake; and for me, will
pray
Once more with my Harry and Robby in Heaven
To meet the dear boy that enlisted to-day.
Mr.. John Esten Cooke writes the folio wing
song, from MIllwood, near Winchester, Vr-
ginia:-
In light or gloom that memory comes
Across the rolling foam
pass again to earlier years,
And dream OF you and home!
You walk the bright Virginia woods,
The winds are low and sweet
The trumpet flower burns in the hedge,
The blush rose round your feet;
The tulips whisper overhead,
| The dove COOS in the tree
As on that evening long ago
When you were all to me!
The dear Virginia lilies bloom
| For YOU: the roses blow;
| Beside the rock-ribbed oceans marge
An exile Wanders slow
Deep in the old memorial wood
/ see you, musing, roam
And think There's nothing half so sweet
AS thoughts of youth and homeW
| Mr.. George f. Harrington, author OF Inside
| a Chronicle OF Secession" will commence nev
tale in the December number OF HdTpel'
MOnthI2J, under the title of ''The Vlrglnlans II
Texas" This tale is of special Interest at IN
present time we are assured on the cover OF Tn
magazine, as it sets forth what Texas was oe
tore the war, what 1t would now have been Ou
for the war, and what 1t may yet become, not
wlthstaDding the war, when liberty is secured
law maintained, etc. etc. This IS promising
} certainly, though how it could have been accom-
? plished IN tale written before the breaking ou
. OF the war, as this purports TO have Deen,
what we cannot exactly see. Heretofore II wa
the poet who claimed the gift OF presclence; bu
e IL seems now that the novelists are beginning I
q make the same pretensions, and, we dare say
on Just as substantial grounds
"A large clothing house in London has latel
taken 10 publishing monthly perlodlcai unue
@ the Ute OF the Aldgdte Magazine VINO II
rs writers are We are not informed, but, II we ma
| nOF Nnuitin thn