New-York tribune., 1874-09-10
POETRY AND POTATOES.

In the name of the golden-haired god,
another Poet! Joseph Gwyer is his name,
England is his nation, Surrey is his dwelling
place; but as for his salvation we hope that
he is personally surer of that than his verses
can possibly be in this age OF much meter
mongering. Mr.. Gwyer, when he Is not fond-
ling the MUSES., engages in the sale OF potatoes.
We do not understand, however, that his lyrics
are bucolical. He pipes not of Amaryllls nor
yet of Menalcas, but rather Of the late lamented
Napoleon, of the Emperor of Russia, and OF
the Duchess of Edinburgh. Though he now
and then tries his hand at shipwreck, the
events which he celebrates are mainly of a
public nature. The visit of the Imperial Mus
coyte, for instance, swelled Joseph
with many cubic inches of ahiatus
Dryden may have t0adied royalty In
lines capable of more sonorous scan
ming, but "glorious John" could MT have been
fuller of humble awe and irrepressible admi-
ration. For instance: eve hail the Emperor
" this day, As we have done the flowers of
"May, The streets ilumined they will shine,
"The heavens with fireworks will look fne"
Again eve hope that ties like these will
"bind, And lead to show to all mankind, De-
"fense alone is not in wars, Or soldiers
"swords or jolly tars." Joseph, we see. is
peaceful in his disposition, as a potato man
should be; and he has something of Burke's
idea of the cheap defense Of nations" But
for the Shah of Persia, Mr.. Gwyer has nObler
and more solemn hopes " Iniclosing we'll say,
eff naught else have said, God bless the
"Shah, and to Christ be he led; Religion and
"learning and commerce will thrive; lgno-
france and Slavery from Persia It will drive"
Hafz himself might have pardOned a wish so
pious, so poetcal, and so patriotic.
1t is encouraging to find that Joseph does
not suffer from the scorn of the great and the
contumey of the proud, as more famous poets
even than he is sometimes have suffered. On
the contrary, his little offerings are received
by those whose elevation and virtue he cele-
brates with marked courtesy and warm
Acknowledgement. A neat ode addressed to
the Marquis of Lorne, which our potato poet
prints, drew from that great patrician the assur-
ance that "H. r. II. the Princess Louise expe-
"rienced much pleasure in reading the poem"
The poor ex-Empress, in her lonesome seclu-
sion at Chiselhurst, having read Mr. Gwyer's
poems, directed Madame lie Breden BourbaH
to return to the bard her grateful thanks"-
and she could hardly have said more
to the great Mr.. Tennyson himself. Even
the Lord Mayor of London assures
the minstrel that his appropriate lines
"display talent of no common order"
Thus far in considering the achievements of
the Surrey singer we soar above the sordid
vulgarities of earth and breathe only pure
Parnassian atmosphere. Alas! there Is no en-
ioyment in this world without drawback.
We regret to say, as we do with shame and
considerable confusion, that Mr.. Gwyer, after
the oftiest flights of the imagination, tumbles
down to his weekday tubers, and that the
lovely poet exhales with notifying smell of
the shop. To each copy of his poems
the following advertisement is appended:
"to any part of London or suburbs
direct from the farm. Each sack
"of potatoes can be tried before payment
"Prices on application" This is, indeed,
mournful descent! Can we think of TheOcri-
tus peddling garden stuff Of Bion OF OF
Moschus going to market with load of peas,
or beans, OF barley2 OF Virgil importuning
Augustus to buy the vegetables for the palace
from his farm7 Of Sir Walter Raleigh, the
great father of potatoes in England, offer
ing to sell them by the sack to Queen Eliza
beth7 With what feelings should we have
found as the tail-piece of one of Sam Rogers's
beautiful books: Drafts discounted and gov
"erpments bought and sold upon the most
Favorable terms"
And yet !-and yet 1t is dangerous in
these times to be carried away by our @sthet-
ical to the neglect of our esculent tastes. Mr..
Gwyer may teach us lesson after all; for,
as Macaulay said of Richardson, the novelist
&c He keeps his shop and his shop keeps him."
To young people vibrating between poetry
and potatoes, we unhesitatingly recommend
the last-named commodity as by far the more
profitable. NJ. Soyer has left no recipe for
cooking even the laurels of cook; and no.
body can live upon the softest western wind
of praise. We question whether even COM
plimentary note from Lord Mayor, sugges-
tive as it might be of turtle or turbot, would
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