Vermont farmer. [volume] (Newport, Orleans County, Vt.) 1870-1877, 1874-07-10
SOME NOBLE POETRY.


by having wide thoughts, and much feeling
for the rest of the world rs well rs ourselves
and this sort of happiness often brings so
much pain with it, that we can only tell 1t from
pain by its being what we should choose be-
fore everything else, because our souls see
it is good"
One acquainted with the previous writings
of George Eliot" will take up eagerly her
latest published volume, ".rhe Legend Of
Jubal and other pooms." We know be-
forehand what spirit and manner we shall
find; such delicate appreciation of all beau
tiful things and thoughts. such rich emotion,
wide sympathy, clear insight joined with
such broad learning and vigorous thought,
are hers alone. Mon should feel honored
that Miss Evans has chosen for herself
masculine nOn,-de-plume. The sentence "Ro-
molo," quoted above, might stand rs motto
for almost everything she writes. and the in
tcrest that welcomes each now book looks
to find in what more charming form she re-
pcats her noble lesson. First We have Ju-
bal, the father of all such rs handle the harp
and organ, from which scanty word Of tho
Scriptures, she has developed tale fresh
with all the freshness Of the infancy of our
race.
Mans life was spacious in tho early world
! II paused, like some slow ship with sail unfurlod
| Waiting in seas by scarce a wavelet curled;
Beheld tho slow star-paces Of the skies,
And grow from strength 10 strength through centuries
Saw infant trees fill out their giant limbs,
And heard thousand times the sweet birds marriage
hymns.
While Jabal learns to tame the lowing kline
and introduce the calm pastoral life. and Tu-
bal-Cain with laundering hammer works the
glowing iron, Jubas soul Is quivering with
the new life of unborn music. The ring of
the anvil and resonance of hollow iron forms,
the hcrdsman's call that timid browsing cat
tie homeward brought, each human tone.
each voice of nature, wrought within him,
till in the solitude of the forest his brooding
mind conceives and his hands shape the first
Tyre; with this he comes to his brethren,
bringing the unknown ecstasy of sweet mol
odes and rich chords for which they had
waited with unconscious yearning. Then
he wandcrs widely, teaching his art, till at
last, old and broken, no returns to his home,
longing for grateful honoring welcome Tho
old spot IL reached just ut tho dedication Of
"A splendid temple; he
could see a train
Prom out the street slow.w hiding on the plain
With Tyres and ymbals, flutes and psalteries,
While men, youths, maids, In concert sang to these
With various throat or In succession poured
Or in full volume mingled. But ono word
Ruled each rocurrent rise and answering fall
As when the multtudes adoring call
On some great name dl vine. their common soul,
Tho common need, love, joy, that knits them 10 one
whole.
Tho word was "Jubal 7" $50 "Jubap allod the air,
And seemed to ride aloft, spirit there,
Creator of the choir, the full-fraught strain
That grateful rolled itself 10 him again.
Lonely, cherries, lanting the undreampt
honor to his name sends him leaping into
their mipst crying 81 am Jubal, l! | made
the Tyre" But he has forgotten
The frost-loeked starkness Of his frame lOw-bent,
His voices penury Of tones long spont.
lie seems to the wOrshippers to profane their
praises. and in loyalty TO his unrocognizet
self, they thrust him out and boat him with
their Tyres.
Tho immortal name Of Jubal filed the sky,
While Jubal lonely laid him down To die.
One who did not know tho author nigh
| stop here and call the tale bitter satire OF
inc emptiness OF Hlne anu stupluly q
praise. But she never sings that poor strain
10 the heart broken man comes n glorou
vision, the face of his loved Past, showing
him how the greatness was his in giving
blessings, not in receiving honor.
This was thy lot. 10 foel. create, bostow,
: And that measurable life 10 know
From which the aoshly self falls shrVelled, dead
q A seed primeva that has forests bred.
' 1t is the glory Of the heritage
. Thy life has left, that makes thy outoast age
Thy limbs shall lie dark, tombless on this sod
because thou shinest In mans soul, n god,
S That naught but Rarth's destruction can destroy
+ Thy gits to give was thine Of men alone
Twas but In giving that thou eouldst atone
For too much wealth amid their poverty.
> The form may seem cold and bare, ye
> 1t is the noble lesson, 1t is more blessed b
! give than to receive.
: The next poem repeats the moral in hap
pier mood. Agatha" is the heroine, nc
wealthy nor beautiful nor witty, an old
!, humble soul rich in her kindness, great 1
> her lOwliness.
Rank for her meant Duty, various,
> Yet equal for lis worth, done worthly.
, Command was service humbest service done