The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-06-11

OF late years it mas not Deen pos
sible for me to always keep true TO
my youthful enthusiasts. AS Tor
forming new ones, 1 had thought the
time was past for that. 1t is a thing
to be thankful for when one learns
that she is not the blase reader she
had taken herself to be, but that UNI
derneath the custom-worn surface,
the vital forces are still at play, ready
10 respond to whatever may be ofsu-
perlative excellence.
The other day l had something to
say in regard to Mrs. Patterson'S low
ing something of an altogether
foolish nature and not meant, or
course, to be taken in any serious way.
/ am glad that foolishness was writ
ten. 1t caused my friend and erst-
while pupil, Bob Gray, to call my at
tention to one of the most perfect
lyrics that has ever come within my
range of reading.
Last year the editor of the Biblical
Recorder spoke of John Charles Nc
Neil as having a suggestion OF
genius Later the same writer claim
ed greater things for him. OF these
things l was skeptical, but only anxi-
Gus TO have this young North Caro-
linian verify the extravagant predic-
tons made concerning Inn. With this
song before me no prediction that one
might make would seem extravaganza
After reading Mr.. McNeill's October"
/ ceased to doubt. After reading, "Oh
Ask Me Not" there is no limit to my
faith and hopeful expectancy.
Baskerville. of Vanderbilt UNIVERSE
ty, was thrilled with glad excitement
when there came to him the first in
dications of the Southern Renaissance
of letters. The South was coming into
its own. Smitten to the very hearts
core. down pressed. poor as poverty
could make her, with no voice in ma
tional councils. no hope for her old
pre-eminence in statesmanShip,-wh
was left her? 1t was then, after the
land had lain as if stunned by the
tremendous shock, that she stretched
her sinews and stirred again the
mighty power within her. And while
this man and that, this company and
that corporation, were busy with
spindle and pillow, with steamship and
railway, it was a cause for gratitude
that other forces were working to
ends no less great. Through the quiet
ways of literature the South was COM
ing again into understanding
Here. by her own men, would be trans
lated the life which no alien could
civilization. forever dead. should still
have immortality.
After reading October" / felt like
writing to something or somebody.
and taking back all my skeptical
words. SO glad was l that North Caro-
lima should have. among her young
men of promise. this one with the
wondrouS lyric gift.
However I fnrbnra writing in,
public way. It seemed an arrogance
for me to correct orrevise my opinions
as if. forsooth, they were of such
weight. But now l will not forbear.
For the faces of this poisoning forth
of SO rare a gift l shall have my say.
And if my own convictions are voiced
with positiveness as though l were
very sure, how else should it be? Of
whose convictions can | be sure, un-
less they be my own? Shall one speak
for his neighbor?
y favorite process of mine is elimi-
nation by comparison. In these last
days my mind has been revealing i'm
the lyrics that long ago fixed them
selves i'm my memory. The songs of
Burns, incompatible i'm their simplici-
ty. tenderness, beauty-what an inn
poverishment our language would sus-
should be lost to u.s.
I'VE Bank andBraes of Bonny Doom,
"Flow Gently, Sweet Alton High
land Mary "To Mary in Heaven, "
and so on. Surely there's no tongue
under the heavens which has so voiced
the deepest tenderness of the soul as
the rugged Scotch:
For what would we barter Annie
Lawrie, or The Land o. The Leal?I
And yet how simple, how perfectly
transparent are they, as are all the
most beautiful lyrics There be many
writer's of verse nova days, who send
forth poems which have a certain
vogue even with the critics, but these
writer's will
"Quaff obIivion's portion,
And soon : their sails be lost along
The all-surrounding ocean.
Whereas. if they should once go
deep enough into the human heart and
make one perfect song the world would
not willingly let them die.
When Tread the Scotch lyrics al
most do 1 forget that our English lit
erature has. for me, any beloved songs.
Even Ben Jonson's Drink to Me Only
With Thine Eyes" seems stilted and
unnatural. while Hartley Coleridge but
touches the surface in his musical
lines:
"She is not fair to outer view
AS many maidenS be;
Her 'loyeliness never knew
Until she smiled on me-
o then l saw her eve was bright,
a we'll of love, a spring of light"
And again, barring that pure and
serenely lovely thing, ''She Walks in
Beauty" Byron's lyrics are too often
marred by his self-consciousness or the
grossness of the mans nature.
Emerson is said to have preferred
being reimbursed as poet. 1t is safe
TO predict thatno such thing will hap
pen. The lines to Eva have beauty
that you would hardly expect from a
nature so cold as Emerson's, yet that
little poem is far from being the ex-
preston of heart on fire with the di-
vine passion of poetic genius.
There is a dainty bit of verse by T.
s. Aldrich which appealed to me as
being, of its kind. the very best thing
in my knowledge of American litera-
I mr.