The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1886-08-18

and put on one of mourning and drear.-
Upon these scenes the gloomy inhabitant
prefers to look and finds in them features
OF tar greater grandeur and sEbiinity. than
i'll any other Of Natures phases. Stand.
ing upon the threshold of his cozy home,
he looks forth upon the scene. Far as the
eye can reach he sees nothing but stretch
es OF loneliness and drcary waste, sees Ma
fnre deprived of her characteristic charms,
locked i'll the icy embrace of winttr and
clad in Q robe of rurcst white. And vet
he finds beauty in such Il picture-not
beauty, for only Natures vcrdant charms
are beantif'il-but grandeur. Yes, here
he finds grandeur in it's most magnificent
garb. And tits grandeur of the truest
type; that which reminds him Of the great
power OF One above, tells him that it's He
only who can change the smiles of Spring
to tho frowns of Winter; and that though
lie robs Nature of her rarcst charms, yet
tie gives in return many of no less pleas
ure, those of grandeur and subimity that
seem to him the highest and loftieSt theme
tor poetic thought. And in the true poets
eye such scene appears ten fold in its
grandeur. He looks upon it and is i'll
Splred with the awfillness of its beauty
His bosom heaves with profound emotions,
and in an eestacy of delight lie gives vent
to his feelings. He takes indeed Il sub
lime lesson from Nature, one that will
leave It'll impression on his mind, and will
afterward weave itself into his poems.
William G. Bryant has furnished us am
pie proof that he felt the influence of
mighty Nature, and under her influence
he gave to the world productions that
have but few equals and no s,lperiors.
we all recognize the l0ttiness of concep-
ton which characterizes his masterpieces,
and we can only attribute it to the lnfu-
ence that Nature eXerted upon his mind
through the medium of the sublimity of
the scenery that surrounded his North
ern home.
But the poet is not confined to the North
alone. We have had many notable bards
iii that genial cline, the South, whose
breezes are laden with the perfumes of
her myriads 0ffragrant flowers. Go, visit
the sunny home Of the Southern planter
and drink III the loneliness that surrounds
it. How bonntifully has Nature strewn
around her gifts! We look forth from the
dear old gallery with undisguised admira-
ton and wonder, upon the stately oaks,
grim sentinels Of the past that have wit
messed the changes OF ages gone. They
have heard the sounds of musk try and
perhaps have seen the very home they
surrounded wrapt in flames, and it's in
mates flung upon the sword of civil strife.
Yes, they have seen the destruction which
attended that bloody conflict, but they,
too, have been rising from the ruins of the
old, industries OF various kinds and wealth
to the sons of the South. Then gaze upon
the sun-lit fields of flowing cane, the mag
nificent river that carries on it's bosom
the wealth of Il growing nation; or the
sombre depths OF that forest, looming up
Ill the distance and seeming to give an eN-
qnisite tinge of the deepest blue to the
horizon above. Or stand on the summit
OF that hill and look down upon the love
illness beneath and beyond, a mingling of
Natures rarcst charms, Il scene ever chan
ging III its beauty. The green sea If flow
ing cane stretching to the river and cast
ing shadows that dance upon the ripples
OF It's waters. On the other side of the
long row Of white cabins that terminate
near the beautiful home of a
cotton planter, at the back OF which lies
extended Il field of ripe cotton, blending
to the eye in the glare Of the sun. Still
further on seeming undnIating pasture
dotted Ger with the white tlreccs of many
Il sheep. 1t stretches far III the distance
till it meets the outline Of the forest be-
You'd. We pause to admire the scene,
which at sunset will be more beauteous.
Then it is that we see the exquisite color
ing impaired to the clouds by the sun as
he sinks into the depths of the forest, the
long extended shadows of the trees,
frightening us he disappears. And even
after he has gone there is spread around
the boughs a light of indescribable beau
ty which marks the path of his flight
What Il range for poets fancy! With
what feelings must he watch these ever
changing forms OF Nature! Here in this
favored cline, Nature seems to have form
ed into one grand whole all her brightest
grandeur. For what could be more beau
titul than typical Southern morning.
what grander than her sunsets! And
when the poet sees stretched before his
view such pictures, and recognizes the
true beauty in them, surely he feels their
irresistible influence slowly creeping over
him and then faster until he is thrilled
and held spell-bOund under the magic of
the moment. And their power is render
ed even greater when we reflect that not
many years have passed since our beloved
South had inst been released from the
throes and hardships of a bloody war, a
war that left her deprived and robbed well
nigh of her former prosperity. Even Ma
ture shared i'll the general overthrow, and
many indeed were the beauties that left
her. And can we be surprised that such
poets as Father Ryan, as he gazed upon
the dreadful ruin, should have uttered
these beautiful but sadly true words =
eyes, give me IL land with grave in
each spot,
And names in the grave that shall not be
forgot!
Yes, give me the land of the wreck and
the tomb,
There's grandeur in graves-there's glory
in gloom"
But now it is different. Nature has re-
stored much of the former beauty, and
her scenes have been frightened up by
the appearance OF numerous industries.
Let us leave these scenes and turn to
the cottage of the dusky laborer, where
we will find true contentment. At even
tide, with weary limbs but happy heart,
he comes home to rest. In his song we re-
cognize content, in his cabin we see it, as
around the fire he gathers with his family
to partake of their simple meal. Soon we
see him with his cob-pipe aglow, and in
the wreaths of smoke we read the legend,
"cOntent." Later with his "banjo" on
his knee we hear him sing Of the good old
times and his home "way back in old
Virginia." and We listen with pleasure to
the narrative. Here we find a lesson well
worth learning; an example we'll worth
following. And if we have any poetry in
our souls, we must, we cannot but feel
the emotions that arise and demand an
Ill poetry, when we view such