The Portland daily press., 1868-06-13
The spanish Gypsy.

true poetical faculty, have lived in England
during this century. They are Elizabeth Bar
ret Browning, Christina Rossett, and Emily
bronte'" This classification, which was made
previous to the appearance of the volume be-
lore us, VIII certainly have to be amended so
as to admit the name of Marion Evans whose
place on the list we must think should be Sec
ond only to that of Mrs. Browning. The Span-
ish Gypsy is poem beside which the recent
inanities of TennysOn, and the mysterious
shriekings of Swinburne scarcely deserve to
be named
III Is a dramatic poem, or more properly it is
a novel in verse, the style and manner chang
ing easily as the movement of the story varies.
The story ltseli IS simple one. Don Silva, a
Spanish noble and a Christian of the fifteenth
century, loves Fedalma, a beautiful girl of un-
known lineage, but in reality the daughter of
the Gypsy chief. A priest and creature of the
Inquisition plots to prevent their union. Fe-
dalma's father appears and claims her. declar-
ing that her true destiny is to be queen Of the
Gypsies, and that it is her duty to live only for
her people. She yields to the call of imagined
duty, and leaves her lover secretly The lat
ter follows to the Gypsy camp, and leads there
the life of n Zincal. But his high spirit
loathes this base and ignoble existence, and
though his heart is still true to Fedalma, he
cannot endure her people, and finally in mo-
ment of frenzy he slays the Gypsy chief, and
returns to Spain to expiate his crime.
Here is but little of incident; but the singu-
lar dramatic skill of the author, her force and
eoquence of diction, her close sympathy with
the varying passions of her personages, with
their heroism and their weakness, her elevas
ted philosophy and wide range of thought
her ready command of the resources of
metrical composition, and a certain vigOr-
Gus terseness of expression which can con-
centrate a truth into single pointed, epi-
grammatic phrase, all combine to keep the
readers interest warm and vivid In strength
Of Imagination and passion, in poetic insight,
and in the power of sustained effort, it must
be admitted that she falls far below Mrs
Browning; and if we may Judge by the songs
scattered here and there in the poem, she can
hardly equal Swnburne in mastery OF the
| lyric art; but then she is never betrayed into
the obscurities or the sensuousness OF Swim
burne. And if she has not Tennyson's pic
turesque felicity in the choice of words, paint
ing often an object in single epithet, she is
greatly the superior of Tennyson in elevation
OF thought, and in the philosophy which un-
derlies what she writes.
We regret that the limited space afforded by
the columns Of political newspaper must
prevent our speaking as we could wishiof this
poem; and our extracts from it must also be
brief But We advise every admirer of fine
| poetry and also of the peculiar qualities man
| ifested in the anthor's novels to buy and read
| it. 1t opens with the following glowing de-
| scription of Spain:
IT'S the warm South. where Europe spreads her
Like fretted leaflets, breathing on the deep;
Broad-breasled Spain, leaning with equal love
IA calm earthg0ddess crowned with corn and vines
| On the mid sea that means with memories
And on the untravelled ocean, whose vast tides
| Pant dumbly passionate with dreams of youth.
| This river. shadowed by the battlements
And cleaning silvery towards the northern sky,
Feeds the famed stream that waters Andalus
| And loiters, amorous OF the fragrant air,
| BY Cortova and Seville to the bay
| kronting Algarya and the wandering food
or Guadiana. This deep mountain gorge
| Slopes widening ON the olive-plumed plains
| OF fair Granada; one far-stretching arm
Points TO Elvira, one to eastward heights
| or Alpujarra as where the new-bathed day
| With orfamme upliited o'er the peaks
| Saddens the breasts of northward-looking SHOWS
Ihat loved the night, and scared with soaring stars
Flashing the signals of his nearing swiftness
From Almera's purple-shadowed bay
Il
On to Alhambra, strong anu ruddy heart
/ OF glorious Morisma, gaspng now,
| MANNED giant in his agony
/ This town that dips Its feet within the stream
/ And seems to sit tower-crowned Cybele,
Spreading her ample robe adown the rocks,
| Is rich Bedmar; twas Moorish long ago.
| But now the Cross is sparkling on the Mosque
| And bells make Catholic the trembling air.
| Take this also on heroism:
| No great deed is done
| By l0iterers who ask Tor certainty.
| NO good lS certain but the steadtast mind
| The undivided will to seek the good;
| Ills that compels the eements, and wrings
/ human music from The Indifferent air,
/ The greatest gift The hero leaves his race
Is to have been hero
| The saints were towards, who stood by to see
| Christ crueied. They should have flung themselves
| Upon the Roman spears, and died in vain! tor love
| Greater than sways the forces OF the world.
Here are some examples of the authors fe-
licity of expression:
Lay the young eagle in what nest you will,
| 1he cry and swoop OF eagles overhead
| Vibrate prophetic in its kindred frame,
And make i spread its wings and poise itself
For the eagles flight.
Speech is broken light upon the depth
| OF the unspOken. Even your loved words
| Float in the larger meaning of your voice
As something di12mer.
/ 'Tis daylight still, but now the golden cross
| Uplifted by the angel on the dome
/ Stands rayless in calm color clear-defned
| Against the Northern blue.
| All beauteous existence rests. yet wakes
| Lies still. yet conscious, with ceaf f-opened ewes
| And gentle breath and mild suffused joy
| 'Tis day, but day that falls ike melody
| Repeated on string with graver tones
| Tones such as lnger in long farewell.
| Silva, stained with the blood of the Gypsy,
faces his new destiny in this spirit:
:" will take no pardon, not my own,
| Not God's,-nO pardon idly ON my knees;
But it shall come to me upon my feet
And in the thick of action, and each deed
| That carried shame and wrong shall be the sting
| That drives me higher up the steep of honor"
| The poem closes with these words of FL
/ dalma:
| ''We must walk
Apart unto the end Our marriage rite
Is our resolve that we will each be true
10 high allegiance, higher than our love-
Our dear young love-its breath was happiness!
But 1t had grown upon q larger life
| which tore its roots asunder. We rebelled,-
| The larger life subdued us. Yet we are wed;
For we shall carry each the pressure deep
or the others soul L soon shall leave the shore
The winds tonight will bear me ior away
/ My lord tar ewell!"
| *rHE SPANISH GYPSY A Poem. By George
| Eliot author of "Adam Bede, &c. 12mo. pp 2s6
| Boston; Tcknor & Fields. For sale by Hall l..
| Davis.