The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1871-12-31
ICommuaicated.l

In the dim land Of dreams.
southsrn Voices. Poems, by VIM. II. Holcombe, n. D.
Lppsncott & Co, Philadelphia, 1879
BY MRS. NJ. S. WHITAKER, AUTHOR OF ALBERT
HASTINGS" "PoEMs," ETC.
In the Astounding literature, so called, OF
the day, poetry claims SO large q part, that
only authors Of established celebrity can
claim our attention. DR.. Holcombe Is one
of these, and his works therefore demand
snecial consideration at the hands of critics |
and Journalists. We have open before us
his late volume Of poems, entitled "South-
ern Voices" But the clear and unmistak-
able voice of humanity pervading these
poems belongs to the whole world, and not
simply to the South, which is proud OF her
Doet. Of his generous ideas, pure morality
and naturally delivered scntiments. Like
Mrs. Hemans and Letitia Landon, he deals
much with the affections, and any common
tator, writing truthfully, will best illustrate
the Doctors genius by quoting largely from
book some verses, to us peculiarly pleasing,
which tell, as only poetic inspiration can,
the pangs and hopes of bereavement. They
are pathetic as any thing in the "Memoriam"
of Tennyson:
"Oh, why does the sunshine warm the earth.
Why comes the spring with hsf ohiidiiie n,th'
And her fragrance, to euch o worlu as tnlsf
sf Rs eli . ana r
where the sweet face falls away S 70 SoIen hair
..where the secret soul in sorrow keeps
Afealm OF shadows, IL which it weeps.
Now we by no means accord to these
lines the praise of Pope's elegant versifica-
tion-that being nttainable but by few of
the sons ard daughters of song. Miss Lam
don never reached it, neither did Ienny-
son, Jean Ingelow, or many other oards
whose names have become lncorporatedw Win
the literature Of the nineteenth century,.
the department of poetry, we mean, OF
~ course But these boosted nobleness of
idea. truth to nature, and vigor of concep-
ton which give them fame, and deservedly,
too. The charm of DR.. Holcom6e's poetry
mainly consists in its beautiful ldeality, the
result, it would seem, of sublime philoso-
: Of Imagination. A an artist, he is often at
fault, as man of line feeling and original
thought, never.
In this same poem, entitled "Bereaved,' y
we are able to note, not only the above
named characteristics, but, at times, now
of melody pleasing to the American muse
do we forget the souls we love.
Do .sss, ' snsSra aas With things
Forget us in our bonds OF clayf
But. drawing neardr, nearer still,
Become go blended. heart to heart -,
And thought to thought, and will to Will
"Tha. grief is changed to s, loft regret wsT
con sS Tt that pai we shall lind them Set
nperfect form, in perfect day"
There is, something 80 veritable ane
touching in these lines that we are strange
" reminded of James Montgomery, one o
the sweetest and simplest OF Engaan III.
inspired and religious bards. We ar
tempted to make further extracts from TIL
beautiful poem, but pass on to another per
haps equally demanding attention.
Marie, !" standing alone in starless night
on bleak bridge, robed in white garments
which futtered drearily in the bitter coli
wind, looking with despairing, hope
less eyes, on the popuious city, wit
its far-sounding hum and scintillatin
lamps, recalls to us Hoods Bridge Q
Sichs.n We do not intimate that limitation
is intended, but there is that parity Q
effect between the two poems 1nseparao Of
from literary coincidence, which we ofte
meet, not only amongst poeticai but pros
writer's. We will note our poets descrip
ton or record of this hapless maiden
lover:
I'm form and feature he must have seemed
human splendor, bold and strong, .,r,,
Whose look was light, whose speech was song
Who crossed her path, and wooed her long,
Euisied her dream: and wrought her wrong
70 70 bend b her Thoughts. to FIX her gaze.'
All beauty, love and perfection were en-
bodied in him. Then we are told how II
victim, basely betrayed, was
"Flouted, branded, cast away.
The coarse sensation OF q day
A lest ieer, text to prove
The madness of too great o love-
Wefurther give this mournful apostropf
an instancing the pathetic ability OF
author:
BURY her o., some lonely beach,
Far fror. human sight or reach,
Far from the world which pitied not,
That made her doom and Knocked her lot.
No fellowship in life 1t gave;
She does not ask il in the grave;
Bury her in the yellow strand,
Where the grey conyerses WITH tno Ian
In solemn, slow, majestic speech"
There is a great boldness in some of
doctors postulates, yet we think him eal
est and sincere in all he advances, and eI