New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1880-09-12

Lane : How do YOU exist, with no London ct yomr
sibow' You we're formerly so fond of strolling up
and down the old city-whcre DO you pera'up9iaaSe
now HayS you and Byron a nsa rom and Charles
Knight Ecbnobblng after the OLD manner, comparing
notes as you used o. do when you discussed mlem
adans. %ancho Panza. Uncle Toby. GIL Bias ST.
Januarius Sir Roger &c Coverlcv, lclnuei 0uiilVel
and that gigantic despot. GaraQantua VINO ave SIN
pilgrims 10 salad saw yen at friends , house
wears ago. holding happy converse win I naiiA
Colnv ali and Nathaniel Hawthorne ~ Upper
ms,Sy street! Do you And f Dickens and
Proctor and Cowden Clarke. and Charles ana MAY MAY
Lamb. and William Hazliit are y1n '4geIner w ond
Lander practice wor1-fencing In Eiysiumf one
would ike to know how Chaucer lmpresses YOU a.
copy of Gcdw,ns Life +" judge he has, TO employ
SIR Philip Sydneys neat phrase. nos. MIS-
worthy iace. Is spenser IN any way 'P No
ingf Have YOU dared much converse WIN tne po-
.ental master of them all and inquired of him as
10 the Prince of Denmsrk's hazy CONQUER OF. ef,hin
weli-kpown occasionsf private and confidential
Sha- OF OniN Ba--U -. L..
William IIowells. man af ter your own heart, Nus ,
lately made some remarkable excursions INTO tne
Undiscovered Country and his BOOK wo9ia
greatly interest You. Our world-belovod Longiel-
fow-oarum e rtne'otiif somcn, whose muse a,"w vs.
nothing of age, has lately addressed poem 10
Robert Barns, now of Eternity. The American poet
bids his scottish brother welcome 10 MS own hIe-
SIDE as dear guest AID ghost ana inc w.ioIo
lyric j, "A triumph of genuine feeiing IN poetry
ihear Of a lecture on "tiaos Seeing, lately re&d IN
ph;,nson,coi scholar Whatever Professor H. has
10 saw on any subject relative 10 the invsipie woriu
is OF eager attention , :; .
Among the unjust books that have appeared ~ one
containing the love-letters of heats 10 amy
BTawpc. These ePsii les. coined out Oh heai's sol
row and passion, ought never 10 nave oeS rnt,
by the public. All eyes are now allowed 10 scfuii-
pze adj hbitum the Utmost sacred lie oil one ol the
most sensitive beings that ever existed ana suefeu
Ii appears Il Is considered dshonoraDle IN these
DAYS Inn tn ~
ana ruthicSsly 10 print thes, qnverhg fllcs' treo
burning VOWS of an almost trebzed devotion. i.
nysonS Iuvective Is recafIeu ny th'' S"0'0i'si"' "
justice:
He gave the people OF his best:
The worst he Kept. his bes he gave ,oavs
My snake -peare's curse on clown ani KhaVo
Who will not let his ashes rest
Frances Owen. lady large of heart and BRAIN
has published d" A Study of Keats which is worthy
Of all praise. Him who has
Discoursed upon the fragile bar
That keeps from our roines etnercal
Aud what our duties there
Il; most lovingly set forth in this charming bro chure
and her cnolcely printed book deserves pace on
the shelf with what you have youtSe al
preciatiye Judgment some line, from kcas's lovely
episiic, written in Sep ember, 1916 10 our dear
friend Charles, Cowden Clarke. How admir- mr.
ably that letter to the son ol the
poets cd schoolma Ster sets forth heats lnaeo.eu
ness to Young Clark What blessing Charles Vas
in those Gays to tAe young bard. Keats tet IL an
tumn evening more than sixty years ago
You FIRST Taught me all tae sweets OF song;
The grand. The sweet the terse the free. the hne
WhHt swoltd with paiios. and what rig u"I"o'
spenselian yo%elS tIat eioPe WIN n, Sas scas
MIltoIian storms. and more. Milionian tendtIhess
Michael arms, aud more, SEX Ewes far sIeadcrncas
WHO read Tor me the sonnet swelling lout.y
Up to its climax and then dying proudly
Who found for me the grandeur OF the 9de
Growing, like Atlas stronger from lis ioa1
Who let TASTE that more than c1rdi.i ur"m'
The shaip tie Iapler-polEled ellgralht
Round vast and spanning all. IKE satnrn's ring'
You upheld the veil FROM Clios beauty
And OiIed out the patriots stern ult1
The might OF Alfred, ana the shat, Of Tell;
Tne hand OF Brutns that 50 grandly fell
Upon a tyrant's head All ! haG | never seen
or known Your kindness what Ipis1t have oeen'
Wnat my oIJoymeuis In my youthful years.
Beef; OF All that now my life endeaisf
Aud can Ger these benefits forget
And can e'er repay The friendly debf
But many DAYS have passed since lasi my heart
Was warma luXuriOusy hS divine Mozart
By Arne delighted, Ur by Handel maddend,
Or by the song OF Erin pierced and sadGend:
What iiIac YOU before the music sittng
And the Iich NOTES to each sensation htiihs.
sinc@ wak'd VITA you Through shady lanes
That freshly terminate IN open p ains
Aud reyelrd a chat ia ID ceased not
When a. nghtfan. among your books we goti
Nor when reluctantly took my hat;
No nor till cordially you shook my hand
Midway between our homes:-your accents bland
Still souuGed in my ears. when | no more
Could hear your footsteps touch tie grdycly floor.
som. times lost Them. aud Then found again
YOu changed the fOOtuath for TIE grassy lihln
In those still moments have wished you Joys
TIA, vel Won know 10 hOror =" LIES very toys
With him." said l. " Will take pleasant charmI
III cannot ue tlat auRht VIII WORK HIM harm.
Tho-. fhCughis cone OcrmewIju ali thrlr might:
Acain shake your haud-:riend Charles, goodnight
Observe how alphabetically Mrs Owen touches
her great subject III this delightinl study
''Sucn poem the ode to "A Nightingale
written on scraps of paper and thrust away as
waste behind some books is a Spontaneous eX-
preston of the life the poet was then living. The
nigh ingtle sang in the plum-trce at wentworth
Place and Keats sat and listened TO II, ana wrote
one Of the saddest and sweetest poems IN our
Language. Ii written IN the same year ana
nearly al the same time as Lama when the
shadow &! his approaching doom seemed 10 be steal
Ing over L!m; when his brother Tom, whom be
bad loved vel, had lately died when he was
lns tate. There is noticeable all through
tie 20 IA that languor and failure Of the
springs of life which mark the first approach
OF death. however distant the event may be, and
that remarkably qulckened sympathy with all nat
ural lfe which Is 50 often to be seen IN those who
mad Keats write a few months later, How aston
ishngly does the chance If leaving the world I'M
press a sense OF its natural beauties uDOn us The
simple flowers OF our spring are what want to see
agaiu." 1t was therefore no mere poetic wish, bat
the expression of real sadness, which prompted
the longing to fade away into the forest dim with
the nightingale.
Pace ar away, dissolve and quite forget
what among the leaves hast never known,
Tie WEAKNESS, the fever and ne frot,
Here. where cit and hear each other groani
Where PALSY shakes few sad last gay hairs.
Where youth grows pale ana spectre-tIIn and Dies
Where hut To think Is TO be full OF sorrow
And lcaGen-ryed despars;
Where beauty cannot keep her lus'rons eyes.
Or love pine at them beyond tomorrow
1--WE can imagine too, how his thoughts were
haunted by the sufferings OF his brotheI's
last weeks when he wrote Of being hall
,l.,I aud l.ur fttta