The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1882-04-12


Evangeline, and its author, My ear adj
mits, nay, delights 10, the melody of the
hexameter as he has arranged it. And
still, wherever English Poetry is read, the
world round, and that is, wherever there
are English hearts and homes, the invita-
tion will have large and appreciatiye
response
Ye who believe In affection that hopes, and
endures, and is patient
fe who believe in the beauty and strength Of
womau's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the
List to Tale of Love in Aeadie, home Of the
happy
The one other extended poem with an
American theme, is The Coslgtshsp Of
Miles Standish; and nowhere else in
literature, perhaps, do the stern old
heroes of the Mayfower and the rock
bound coast, shine with so pleasant q
light of mingled bravery, humor, learning
and love. Priscilla and John Alden are
as real to us, as George and Martha
Washington. The marvellous Centennial
Exposition bad few relics that were look
cd on with more hearty feelings of rev
erence, or romance, than good Johns
writing desk. And how we all wished it
ming wheels had been Priscillas! A
tribute not to the worth of the Plymouth
band, SO much as to the genius of the
Cambridge poet.
The Wayside Inn has an American To-
cation but its tales were gathered from
all times and chimes.
/ The Building Of the Ship, The Wreck
Of tie Hesperas, The Skeleton IN Aa'm0r,
aftermath, Tie Psalm, Of Life, his trans
lation of Dante, and many another poem
must be left altogether unnoticed.
The Poems on Sla0erg, which of course
wore thoroughly American, in tone and
purpose, place him in line with all the
chief singers of our land on the side of
liberty aud humanity. If it had never
been said before, our National experience
might have given birth to the aphorism
+" Let me make the country's songs, and l
care not who makes her laws" Legisla-
tors and judges, forged ever fresh letters, to
bind our captive millions. The minstrels
sang the songs of freedom Bryant,
Whittier, Longfellow and Lowell, leading
and nation caught the infection ; the
air grew hot, and melted the shackles
and the bondsmen were freed by the de
cree Of Vox Populi. No wonder-with
such warnings as this:
There is poor blind Samson in this land,
Shorn of his strength and bound in bonds Of steel,
Who may, in some grim reyel, raise his hand
And shake the pillars of this commonweal
Till the vast Temple four liberties
A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies
And such war-cries
Z" Go on, until this land revokes
The old and chartered Lie,
The fenda curse, whose whips and yokcs
Insult Humanity"
e-thoughted, grandly patriotic,
thoroughly MISUNDERSTANDING all the
world, but loving his own land best he
layished his richest wealth of emotion and
art upon what was still closer, dcarer
and VIC shall not reach his poet-heat, or
have his Muse move our hearts fully, until
we meet him at his own home Thither
let us go
lie walks with us through Cambridge
streets. 1t is Autumn and with
what glory comes and goes the year, Z"
lie makes us feel and lodges deeply,
lovingly, in our hearts, the lessons of the
dying year:
" o what glory doth this world put on
For him who with fervent heart goes forth
Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks
On duties well performed and days well spent
For him the wind ny and the yellow leaves,
Shall have voice and give him eloquent teach ngs.
lie shall so hear the solemn hymn that Death
Has lifted up for all, that he shall go
10 his long resting place without tear"
Our companion tells us:
q There Is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells, where'er thegente south wind blows.'
Or, it is rainy day; and onr sad
hearts are stilled and cheered with the
true sympathy of his wise, gentle nature,
that reads Alright "the common fate of
all and g the sun still shining Aud
gloom is dispelled, and he makes us
beautifully merry with glimpse of
"The boys from the neighboring school,
sailing their mimic fleets in the muddy
tide that like river down the gutter
roars.n
He leads us to the village smithy under
a spreading chestnut tree, and introduces
US to the mighty man with large and
sinewy hands, who can "look the whole
world in the face" We never before half
felt the nobility of hard work, and we
wait impatiently for the Sunday, when
he will take us to the church. that we
may see the honest man, as he sits
among his boys" and hears his daughters
voice singing in the village choir" The
Poet knows our tears will fall, in sympa.
thy with the smiths; but he accounts
them gracious drops, that will clarity the
soul.
:" 1t sounds TO him like her mothers voice
Singing In Paradise
lie needs must think OF her once more,
How in the grave she lies
And with his hard rough hand he wines
A tear out of his eyes,
The poet conducts us to the Craigie
Mansion. The old clock on the stairs
tells u.s." its voice low and light -" of
every swift yicissitude -
Forever--never,
Never-foreyeT.n
There comes The Children's Hour"
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower"
We hear in the chamber above US,
The patter flittIe feet,
The sound Off door that is opened
And voices soft and sweet"
Then rush, and raid the fortress
of the Fathers breast is taken by storm ;
and there is the sweet intercourse of a
domestic paradise.
Tho day is done, and the poet bids,
Come read to me some poem.
Some simple and beautiful lay.
That shall soothc this restless feeling
And Danish the thoughts fday.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares that infest the day
I'LL IL L ILL Il