The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1870-10-13
SWTNBURNES ODE.
9 London SATURDAY. Repis,O.

and come you in; 'rah, tab, tab would a say;
bounce would a say; and away again would
a go, and again would a come; [ shall never
see such a fellow" Without ia any way in
tending to be disrespectful to Mr.. Swinburne,
we must admit that in his political writings
he irresistibly reminds us of Justice Shadows
''little quiver fellow" He chooses for him.
self indeed nobler scene than "Arthur's
show at Mile-end Green" He does not
''come you in, come you in" till the red flag
is likely to be unfurled in some capital of Eu-
rope, but when he does, his actions and his
words are much the same "'Rah, tab, tab
would he say, bounce would he say" would,
we venture to suggest, be a more appropriate
motto to his code on the Proclamation of
the French Republic" than the line he
gives us from Eschylus. AS we
have not the least doubt that Mr. Swiuburne
is engaged in writing an ode in anticipation
of the proclamation of the Roman republic,
we beg to inform him that he is quite at
liberty to appropriate to himself this motto if
he pleases. Mr.. Swinburne is indeed such
"quiver fellow" that he can compose an ode
almost as fast as the people of Paris can esta-
blish q republic. We must have little doubt
that the duration of the one will be almost as
long as that of the other. Six days after the
Republic was proclaimed this ode was pub
lished. 1t may perhaps be the case that both
poet and publisher were anxious to avoid an
awkward contingency, and were fearful lest
the Republic should have collapsed before the
ode had been printed. We shall not do Mr..
Swinburne the injustice to suppose that he
kept this ode by him ready for anything that
might turn up, whether in France or Italy.
We have no doubt that, as he has a complete
command over words and as complete an in
difference to sense, he can strike off some
three hundred lines as easily as Hotspur
killed you ''some six or seven dozen of Scots
at a breakfast" We must do him the Justice
to admit that his nonsense is at all events
melodious nonsense. We have often wished,
however, that he could have been q second
Mendelssohn, and could have composed his
songs without words. We should never,
in that case, have been stopped in
our enjoyment of his melody by awk-
ward reflections about his meaning. We
consider, indeed, that nature intended
Mr.. Swinburne much more for mu-
sician than poet. A man may take liberties
with his fiddlestick that he cannot take with
his pen, and so long as he pleases the ear,
need not consider the understanding. AS it
is, we can never read Mr. Swinburne for long
together without getting thoroughly weary of
him. His perfect rhythm becomes at last
tiresome, and we do not find any relief in the
worse than indecency of which he is too
often guilty. AS we read him we are re-
n
gentleman who introduced his brother to DR..
johnson was earnest to recommend him to
the Doctors notice, which he did by saying
when we have sat together some time,
you'll find my brother very entertaining
Sir (said Johnson), l can wait n"
We read through one of Mr.. Swinburne's 8
poems, and hope that they will in time grow
entertaining and, we may add, Ineligible,
but, unlike johnson, we do not find that we
written not little that is very beautiful
But even his finest poems have passages
which are conspicuous by remarkable alb
sence of anything like sense. In reading his
poems we think we can often notice that the
particular form his folly takes is fixed rather
by an apt rhyme than by anything else.
Rhyme and reason with him are almost
synonymous, but if the choice lies between
the two he prefers the rhyme. Then, too,
his mind seems so little capable of accuracy
that he makes the most curious contradic-
tions within the space of very few lines.
In the we'll known chorus in the Atalant0
there a remarkable instance of this.
We refer, of course, to the chorus that tells
of the making of man. In the first line
we are told that it was "before the begin
ming of years" but in the sixteenth line
we read, to our surprise, that one of the in
gradients of which man was formed 'was q
measure of sliding sand from under the feet
of the years." Both lines are very pretty in
themselves, and each contains an unexcep-
tionable rhyme for tears. Nevertheless it
would have been more satisfactory if these
years had actually been IN existence before
the sand was taken from beneath their feet
In the ode before us Mr. Swinburne cannot
always plead the justification of the rhyme
for the nonsense which he has written.
Days terrible with love
Ked-shod with flames thereof,
is not only rant, but 1t Is rant and bad
rhyme into the bargain. By the way, we
wonder, if Mr.. Swinburne were required to
write poem, and were at the same time for
hidden to introduce red and flames, fire and
blood, kisses and tears, whether he would
succeed. We all know that the ordinary
hymn is founded on the axiom that king
rhymes with sing, and on the postulates
that qcOrd rhymes with Lord and lO0e
with na0oe. We wonder which would fare the
worse, if robbed of their favorite words, Mr..
Swinburne or the hymn writer's. We doubt, in
either case, whether there would be many
complete stanzas left. We wish Mr.. Swim
burne could be tempted to follow in Gains
boroughs steps for once, and show that he is
capable, if not "Blue Boy" at all events
of a composition that is not red We are
tired of ''fangs of fire, ''fre of long pain,
''blood of thought" ''blood-blackenine
faces, "bloodiest hour, ''bloody tears
We think we have read all this before, more
than once, too, and we must demonstrate with
him on treating us as the ''mad blind NOR.
row" treats France, and whelming our head,
as we'll as hers, with sanguine waves"
And yet in the midst of this extravaganza
there are splendid lines, lines which no other
poet living, except, perhaps, Mr.. Browning
could have written. What simplicity anC
beauty and force of language there are il
such passage as this:-
Infn 81 r,tn