New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1889-03-25
no gAkEs RussE1L LoWELL.
n POEM BY DIR. HOLMES Read AT TIE DrfsNEh
GIVEN AT THE TAVERN CLUB, ON NIB,


GIVEN AT THE TAVERN CLUB, ON NR,
LowELL's SEVENTEEN BIRrHDAy,
FEBRUARY % 1880.
From The Atlantic Monthly. w "a
A health to him whose double wree6 displays
The critics. ivy and the poets bays;
Who stayed not tin with undisputed claim
Tho civic garland hlieG his need Of fame;
True knight of Freedom ere her doubtful cause
Rose frorn the dust to meet the worlds applause
His contry's champson on the boodless field
yfse truth and manhood stand for spear and shields
who Is the critics He who mover sdps
Tho iuckless passage where his author slips
slides DER his merits stumbes At his faults
Calls him cripple If he sometimes haits.
Rich IN fhe caustic epitiets that sting,
rhs venem-vitrioi malice loves TO ding;
His auill q feathered fang Mt hates command,
His ink the product of his poison-giand.-
rs this the crstief Call him not snake.-
1his no1ious creature. for the reptiles saEe'
ya Is tise critic who is first to mark
The star Of gem 4 when It's gimmering spark
First pricks the sky, not waiting TO proclaim
It's coming glory ttli 1t bursts in fame.
He Is the critic whose divining rod
Tells where the waters hide beneath the SOD;
whom tudious search through varied lore has taught
The - ans the rfIIs the fountan-heads OF thought
who ,orne careless phrase some slpshcd clause,
Crzok frissan's skull or break ouintiian's laws.
Points cut the blunder in kindly way,
Nor tries his larger wisdom 10 display
whore win you seek him1 Wander far and wide,
Then turn and hnd him seated Of your sidei
who "a the poeti He who matches rhymes
in the last fashion Of the newborn times;
swesn over sonnets TIN the toll seems verse
Than Heaven intended in the primal CURSE
work duties, pleasures, every claim forgets'
10 shape his rondeaus and his trioletst
Or "a IL he whose random venture throws
HIS lawiess whimseys into moonstruck prose-
Where they who worship the barbasian's creed
WIN ina rhy thmio cadence as they read,
AZ the pleased rustic hears tune, or thinEs
He hears tune, in every bell that clinksf
Are these the poetsf Though their pens should oiof
thousand volumes, surely such are not
who Ia the poetf He whom Nature chose
In that sweet season when she made the rose-
Though with the changes OF our colder clime =
His birthday win como somewhat out OF .ame,
Through all the shivering winters frost and chin
The bloom and fragrance cling around It stu
he Is the poet who can stoop To read
Tho secret hidden IN wayside weed
whom J,ues warm breath with chdlike rapture mis-.
whose spirit dances with the daffodls';
whom noble deeds with noble thoughts inspire
And lend his verso the true Promethean hre'
who drinks the waters of enchanted streams
THAT wind and wander through the land OF dreams;
For whom the unreal rs the real world.
It's fairer flowers with brighter dews tmpearleo.
BE looks mortal till no spreads bis wings
He seems an angel when he scars ana sings
Behold the poeti Heaven his days proionGs
whom Elmwood's nursery Graded into songi
who Is the patrioti He who deity bends
TO every shift that serves his private ends,
His face al smiling while his conscience squirn1s,
His back as timber as a canker worms
Who sees his country laundering through s;oi1Ia
Nor stirs a hand the lsboring wheel to ill.,
. But trusts to Natures ieisure-loving law.
And waits with patience for the snow to thaws
Or Is he ono who, called to conflict. draws
His trusty weapon in his country's cause;
Who born poet, grasrs his trenchant rhymes
And stakes unshrinking at the nations crimes;
wbb IN the days Of peril learns TO teach
Tho yfsest lessons In tho homeliest speech;
whose plain good sense, alive with tlnging WIZ
Can always ind q handle that wiz mt;
Who touches lightly with IthuHiel spear
Tho soad close squatting at the peoples ear
And bids the laughing scornful world descry
The masking demon, the incaTnste io3
rais this IS he has country wen may say
as ht 70 share her savior's natal dag
Think not the date worn-out king assigned
As Iafe,s fuil measure holds for all mankind;
Shall Gladstone drowned with eighty years, Withdraw
Sec nearer home the Lion Of the Law
How Court Street trembles when he leaves his zen.
Glad in the pomp Of four score years and teni
Once moro the health Of Natures favored son,
The poet critic, patriot, all In one;
Health honor, friendship. ever round him walt
In life's fair field beyond the seven-oarred GATE