The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1909-04-28
TWOMASTER POETS
By John E. FeNers
AIuernon SWinburne.
By John E. Eellers

AIgernon Swinburne.
It was in 1887. Nations were at
peace. England was the central sun
in the political skies. Queen Victoria,
gentle, kind and tactful, was just COM
ing to the throne. Napoleon was Sleep
ing in the island of st. Helena and
the duke of Wellington was still alive.
Thinkers were friends the world over
and the leaders Of popular thought
were on good terms. Emerson was
lecturing and writing in America:
Carlyle in England was publishing un-
hindered "The French Revolution;"
Hugo was establishing in France the
Romantic School of the Nineteenth
Century; Heinrich Heine was singing
his German songs; Frederika Bremen
was weaving into pretty romance the
peasant life Of Sweden and Norway,
and the Irish melodies of Thomas
Moore were finding their way to the
universal heart.
AlgernoA e. Swinburne was born
that year. His father was an admiral
in the English navy and his mother
was the daughter of the earl of Ash
burnham. Could the time, and the
tide, and the ancestry have been more
favorable? Could this boy have been
other than poet? Is it any wonder
that his genius bore fruit almost be-
fore it bloomed? Is 1t any wonder
that in the swish and swing of the
river on its way to the sea, he heard
a song that filled his soul with en-
thusiasm and love? Do we wonder
| that there were times when in his ef-
fort to express the ineffable ideal, the
limpid flow and rhythmic beauty of
his poems fell upon ears that could
| not hear?
Swinburne is master builder of
verse and rhyme and song He
catches the vagrant idea and sends it
| along the years, singing it's melody
alike to peasant, priest and king. He
is an intellectual detective always in
search of beauty and usually he finds
1t hiding in places others would over
look. The commonplace is always a
burning bush, which requires Moses
to understand. There is no music in
the autumn winds until the listener
comes. There is no order and beauty
in the rolling spheres until some
Herschel stands beneath the stars.
There is no fragrance in the violet I'M
til the lover Of flowers bends down
above the blossoms" Only the lover
of poetry knows poetry.
Swinburne has been called the "Sky-
lark of English Poetry" and right we'll
does that name fit him, for his read
ers find in much of his work, that
which leads the thought to a higher
contemplation. When young man he
wrote many poems that were tinged
with criticisms of kings and priests.
But for those poems no doubt he
would have succeeded Tennyson as
Poet Laureate" of England. Until
quite recently the English people re-
garded him as not quite friendly to
the established church and the royal
ty of the realm, but at present he is
known throughout the reading world
as the very greatest living poet.
His classical tragedy ATLANTA" pub.
lished in 1864, was perhaps his great
est poem. In 1866 he published in
America volume under the title of
"Laus Veneris" that contained so
many poems of an erotic character it
was forced out of publication and is
now rarely found even in old collec-
tons. The following stanzas from "A
Match" show his remarkable ability
for threading thought through his
words in rythm that is both charm.
ing and delightful
If you were Aprirs lady,
And I were lord in May,
We'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers
Till day, like night were shady
And night were bright like day;
If you were April's lady,
And were lord In May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We'd hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying feather,
nd teach his feet a measure;
And find his mouth a rein;
=. you were queen of pleasure
And I were king of pain.
Historical Setting.
1897.
John Burroughs, an American essay.
list of worldwide reputation; Edward
Eggleston, known to fame as the au-
thor of "The Hoosier Schoolmaster; "
William Dean Howells, novelist, poet
and diplomat; and Algernon c. Swim
burne were each born the same year
that Chicago was incorporated as a
city.