New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-03-11

made atonement By giving us three
quarters Of a bookful OF unsanguinary
verse.
II Mr.. Walsh's work Is too intel
leotual and perhaps too subtle ever 70
be generally popular, It's appeal Is none
the less sure 10 a small but hatteringiy
composed audience. He is a poet OF
no school and many traditions. The
storehouse of his mind is rich IN the
lore of the past, particularly the leg
ends and customs of the Roman Catho-
lie Church and the ancient glory OF
Spain. Catholicism is in MIR. Walsh
at once strength and weakness.
l. is strength because there is no
history like that of the Church for
Poetic inspiration and dramatic posi-
bilities; and he is keenly alive TO this.
II is a weakness because ecclesiasl-
cal themes are necessarily passionless
In a worldly sense, and Mr.. Walsh lacks
passion; and. further, because the en-
deavor to recapture the monastic at
mosphere frequently leads the poet
into subjects and language that ap-
zeal only 10 the specialist An example
O. this is TO be found In the poem,
"Fgidio of Coimbra," which only one
versed in Scholastic philosophy can
understand.
Nh Walsh has a fine ear for music,
and many of his songs sing themselves;
! know that down arcaded square
And narrow street they still are there,
Dolores, Pillar, Mercedes,
Reclining in the balconies
But his most remarkable gin IL his
power over words TO make them do
his will Vitalized by his pen, one
word frequently acquires the strength
Of ten. Sometimes he creates pictures
Of dim, adorned cathedrals. or OF Goth
ic strongholds, high on crags, hoard
ing their ancient secrets through the
years. Sometimes a few lines con-
tain material for whole drama. An
example Of this is the following stanzs
from the poem "To Francisco Goya in
the Gallery of Madrid":
That daub of rouge upon a leering bag
IL where you struck your queen; that
Keeling string
OF rogues and cripples wrongs your
Spain, whose king
You set TO mock her anguished, starv.
ing lands,
An imbecile upon a bloated nag
You struck them, Goya, yet they kissed
your hands.
Russian Lyrics and Cosssck Songs"
Is an interesting collection of poems,
well worth republishing at the present
day, and Nine. Bianchi deserves we'll
for her faithful and devoted rendering
OF them. For she has sacrificed the
translatOr's legitimate glory Of clever
phraseology and poetic smoothness Tor
the rather thankless labor of consci-
entious reproduction Of sense and
rhythm. Her reward is that she does
enable the reader to get, with almost
undiminished force, the romantic mel
ancholy lowering over this country Of
hostile elements, of frequent warfare
and Of an autocracy that holds human
life as very cheap. Almost any poem
In the book would illustrate the feel
ing. The following two stanzas will
show 1t as we'll as any. The first 10
from Pushkin's "Goblins Of the
Steppes":
Stormy clouds delirious straying,
Showers Of snowfakes whirling white,
And the pallid moonbeams waning
Sad the heavens, sad the night!
The second from Lermontoff's "CrA-
die Song Of a Cossack Mothers
Grievous times will sure befall thee,
Danger, slaughterous fire
Thou shalt on q charger gallop,
CURLING at desire;
And d saddle girth all silksn
Sadly will sew,
Slumber now, my wide-eyed darling,
Lullaby. by-low.
Generally the patriotism that runs
through all the work Is not SO much q
fondness for Russia, the nation, as q
LIide in her physical grandeur and
magnihcence. Lermontoff writes:
And yet love III Why cannot say,
The endless snowy steppes so silent
brooding,
In the pine forests autumn winds pur-
suing
The foods high water on all sides Of