The New York herald., 1873-11-09
reiioai Alliance that receniss spit straws.
city for the glory OF God

| "oh. believe with me-
tor every instinct In these hoarts OF ours
luli iruitlon nastcns. Oh, believe
Inat promise greater than onr greatest trust
END iotest aspIra'ionl rell thy friend
Beside i, my grave: he did the best he could,
Win earnest spirit polishing the lens
|. ~ which ne took the heavens In his ken,
y And through the empyrean sought Tor God;
/ he caught or thought he caught Hom time W
Bright gimpses OF the infinite, on which
He fed in rapturous aud quiet Joy,
That helped MIN keep host OF troubles down.
he went his way-a different path rom mine
Who toll and suffer. II, IN sooth. ~ be
Religion keeps US up, this man had that.
God grant his yearnlngs were living .ath
Heaven lies above US: may we find him there
Beside the waters still, and crowned with palms ~
Unlike some patriots who believe In freedom for
themselves and despotsm for the rest OF the
world, Mr.. Stedman's heart beats less quickly
for CUBA than for his own Land. and he asks
as 1t naughts Is it naught
That the south wind brings her wall TO our shore,
That the spoilers compass our desoate sister,
Is II naught Must We say to her. strive no more
with the lips wherewith we loved aud kissed
With the mocking lips wherewith we said,
Thou art the dearest and iairest 10 ns
or all the daughters the sea hath bred,
Of all grecn-girded isles that WOO uS
Is it naughtYi
How long must we wait for response worthy
OF q generous natIonS
That Mr.. Stedman Is capable Of sustained EFFORT
is seen in The Bameless Prince" OF which the art
is pure ana the pretty story told with tender grace
But as we frequently prefer the painters sketch to
his most elaborate painting, so do we give the
preference to Mr.. Stedman's lyrics. In them we
ind spontaneous emotion. Their rhy thm makes
music to the heart as wei az to the head, and the
sympathetic personality OF the poet is felt. We al
most hear the melody TO which they might
how. They sing themselves and make
x.vtry,
by more palpable voices 1.-THE Singer,n "rhe
Sleigh Ride" "The Cavalry Song' in "Alice of Mon
MOUTH 'Toujours Amour ''The Tryst,n "At
Twilight and an Autumn song" are worthy of
the best composer. Gounod would do them justice;
but 1t is doubtful whether he or any one else conld
express the subtety OF the ''Stanzas for Ausc,n
taken from drama not yet published
Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word;
Close, close In my arms thou art clingng;
Alone Tor my ear thou art singing
song when no stranger hath heard:
But aiar fiom me yet, like bird,
Thy soul, in some region unstlrred,
On Its mystical circle is winging.
Thou art mine | have made thee mine own;
Henceiorth we are mingled forever:
But in vain. all III vain, endeayOr-
Though round thee my garlands are thrown.
And thou yleldest thy lips and thy zone
To master the spell that alone
My hold on thy being can sever.
Thou art mine, thou hast come unto me
But thy soul, when strive to be near It.
The lnnermost 1old OF thy spirit
Is as far from my grasp, Is as free,
AS the stars from the mountain tops be-
As the pearl in the depths OF The sea
From the purtionless ring that would wear IL.
No one who has read the Dartmouth Ode," so
recently delivered need be told that Mr.. Stedman
is master OF his subject tear Is the only criticism
we care to make on "Laura My Darling" and the
"Heart OF New England" while the charm
ing translation of "Jean Prouvaire's Song
at the Barrcade," and study
on Theocrtus, demonstrate an equally
quick apprehension OF modern rcmantcism and
Greek idylcs Nor is the critics art unknown to
Mr.. Stedman. His essays on "that deep-mouthed
BGotian Savage Landor,' ana Mrs. Browning are
criticisms in the best sense, being less generous
than just.
Prose writer and poet, honest broker and best
OF friends, Edmund Clarence Stedman is a type Of
American that cannot be too warmly cherished.
The man is an honor to his country, His work is
an honor to the man.
The Poetical Works OF Edmund Clarence Sted-
man. Published by James r. osgood 4 Co., Boston.