New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1870-03-29
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
THE EARTHLY PARADISE.

II.
but the best characteristics of his poetry, must he
taken as proof how highly he exces in the two rare
merits of cearess of purpose and simplicity of style
He has no bewilderng theories to enforce he cares
nothinr for philosophical analysis for the micro
scropc dissection of human motives, the problems
of fate and existence and the grave questions which
nowadays 80 often tempt the poet from the howery
groves of song TO the tangled forests OF mysticism
and speculation. When our weary hands drop the
thought-laden volumes of Mr.. Morriss best cotem-
porares and take up the dainty stories OF Inc
Earthly Paradise" We feel as tired stu
dent who leaves the dusky solitude OF MS
library and catches under the open sky the sWee.
breath of June that has blown over banks OF Voe's
and stolen the music of the rustilng leaves INC
mission of the new poet the mission of the minstrel
of old to refresh the weary mind and charm away
the hours of repose. His book is not book to be
studied il is not be searched for specimen gems
il s hardly 10 be criticised. 1t must only be taken
and enjoyed as we may suppose ancestors enjoyed
the tales of Chaucer. For ii is simply as teller OF
tales that Mr. Morris comes before u.s. They are
dreamy stories of far off times and shadowy lies OF
bliss cloud lands peoped with dim forms, OF the dis
tant scenes of classical legend. So family do they
touch upon living human interests that they are Ike
the poems of another world.
The heavy trouble, the bewildering care
That weighs down who live and earn our Dread,
These idle verses have no power to bear;
50 let me sing OF names remembered,
Because they living not, can neer be dead,
Or long time take their memory quite away
From poor singers OF an empty day.
Yet as the true poet must ever to shapes unreal
give the semblance of reality, Mr.. Morriss
dreamy tales have of the color of truth, touch
us alternately with pleasure and pain. and paint the
aspects of physical nature with a distinctness for
which he has few living rivals This is partly the
effect of hs.slmpe and direct dicton, partly of his
rare fertility of imagination. His sentences move
straight forward at a leisurely pace indeed but
coming at their meaning by the most direct road,
avoiding intricate conyOlutiOns and dscarding
metaphor. One never doubts moment OF
his meaning, nor after finding verb
must one search painfully for its nominative The
language is not really antique; but delicate aroma
of antiquity favOrs it so pleasantly that we care
little for its occasional inconsistencies. and pardon
the use of obsolete expressions in sense which an
tquity never authorized Mr. Morris has been praised
for celebrating his diction with an art which con-
ceals all traces of his labor. We cannot think this
praise deserved, for the language and the measure
both abound in blemshes which a little pains would
have smOOthed away; and the extravagant use OF
pet words such rs ruth" and lonesome" must have
been apparent on a moderate revision. The
rich copOus and refined language seems to ms rather
anatura gift than the fruit of study; the smooth
ness of the melody indicates abundant inspiration
rather than hard work.
This abundant inspiration is perhaps the most re-
narkable thing in Mr. MorIs's writings. Since he
first startled us with the notes of genuine poetry in
his Life and Death of Jason" he has poured forth
a steady stream of song and yet its freshness and
beauty seem perennial. There is no falling off; on
the contrary there is at least one poem IN the
present volume stronger than any which have gone
before. This is certainly wonderful when we remem-
Der the dimensions of the work and the rapidty OF
it's production. The twenty-fOur poems IN The
Earthly Paradise almost any one of which is long
enough to make volume by itself, follow one
another nearly as fast they can be printed. The
new volume comprises the Autumn part, or the
stories which the wanderers rehearse at the meetings
of their entertainers in September, October and
November. There are six stories, gathered Ike
those of the previous months from ancient fable and
Northern legends" The Death of Paris" The Land
East of the Sun and West of the Moon" The
Story of Accontius and Cydippc," E" The Man who
never Laughed Again." " The Story of Rhodope,'
and 1.-The Lovers of Gudrun." OF the first our
readers already know something for we quoted
from it largely when it first appeared in an English
magazine. The last is by general consent Mr.. Nor
ris's masterpiece. The second has not been so gen
orally admired, but we have read it with the
keenest relish. OF the others we may say that
they are worthy 10 Slailu Dcblue Inc DedIh
of Paris" and THE Lovers of Gudrun, land
that is high praise The argument of the first poem
is thus deftly gwen by the author Paris, the son
of Priam. was wounded by one of the poisoned ar
rows of Hercules that Phoctetes bore to the siege
of Troy wherefore he had himself borne up into Ida
that he might see the nymph Gnone whom he once
had loved because she, who knew many secret things
alone conld heal him. but when he had seen her and
spoken with her she would deal with the matter IN
10 WISE wherefore Paris died of that hurt" We
qnote from the closing stanzas, wherein Gnone, hav-
ING knelt and examined the wound, refuses to give
back her lover to the embraces of Helen
sadly she laughed and rising YEARLY
stood by him III the fresh and sunny morn;
The image OF his youth and faith gone by
r" make ms shamed lost life seem more forlorn;
He shut his eyes and moaned, but once again
she knelt beside him and the weary pain
Deepened upoD her face. "Hearken" she said
"Deaih IS anear thee is then death 80 III
with me aneh thee-since Troy Is as dead,
hn1 iSaS srp ref Of her that harmed me st
Whatso may change-Nshall heal thee Tor this,
That thou Inayest die more mad for her last KISS
She gazed at him with strainiDg eyes and he
Despite himself love touched his dying heart
And from his eyes desire flashed suddenly,
Aud DER his wan face the last blood dld start
As with soft love his close-shut lips gan part.
She laughed out bitterly, and said, "Why then
Must needs call thee fasest OF all men,
'seeing thou lest not thy lifei-
Yet listen once agtin-fair is TINS place
That knew not the beginning OF the strife
And recks not OF It's end-and this my face,
This body thou wOuldst day-long once embrace
And thyself right happy-thine IL Is
Thine only, Paris, shouldst thou deem IT bless
He looked into her eyes, and deemed he saw
A strange and awful look a-gathering there
A slck scOrn at her quveTing tne lip draw;
Yet trembling he stretched out his hand To her,
Although self.loathiDg and strange hate did tear
His heart that Death made cold cen as he said,
.Whatso thou wilt shall be remembered;
'Whatso thou wilt o love, shall be forgot,
IL may be shall love thee as OF Oh.