Poems of Park Benjamin 9780231888189

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POEMS OF PARK

BENJAMIN

BOOKS FOR LIBRARIES PRESS FREEFORT, NEW YORK

Copyright 1948 by Columbia University Press Reprinted 1971 by arrangement

INTERNATIONAL STANDARD BOOK NUMBER:

08369-80778

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER:

70 160914

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TO

BEATRICE BENJAMIN CARTWRIGHT WHO I N H E R I T S

AND

GRANDFATHER'S

IS

MUCH

POETIC

OF

SPIRIT

HER

PREFACE o P R E V I O U S comprehensive collection of the poems of Park Benjamin has been published. A volume of his poems was announced by Harpers in 1839 but, for reasons never definitely ascertained, it did not appear. Nineteen of the earlier poems were published in The Harbinger, Boston, 1833. Seventyfive poems were published in a special "Quadruple"*«umber of the Boston Notion, June 10, 1841 ; and smaller selections have appeared in anthologies, notably in the many editions of R . W . Griswold's Poets and Poetry of America. Fortunately two unpublished collections have been preserved and are now in the Park Benjamin Collection, Columbia University Library. One of them, known in the Benjamin family as the "M.B.B. Collection," that is, the Mary Brower Benjamin Collection, has a romantic history. One day when Park B e n j a min, then a settled bachelor, was visiting in the home of Henry M. Western on Dosoris Island, Long Island, he was surprised and flattered to learn that one of the daughters, Mary Brower Western, had been quietly and conscientiously preparing a scrapbook of clippings of his poems. Courtship and marriage followed. Through the ensuing years the collection was gradually enlarged until it comprised one hundred and seventy-five items. At some time it was rearranged and tentatively classified for possible publication, the poems being initialed " M " for meditative, " R " for religious, and so on. Fifty-seven of the poems were especially marked " X " by the poet as his best. The present editor has followed the poet's judgment with only a few exceptions, exercising independent judgment mainly in increasing the selection to the one hundred poems that constitute the present volume. The M.B.B. Collection is basic for the identification of about half of the poems of Park Benjamin. [rii]

Then, in 1888, William E v a r t s Benjamin, son of the poet, purchased from an old book dealer named Russelle a scrapbook containing prose selections, critical notices, and poems of the poet. T h i s volume identifies about one hundred additional poems. F r o m patient search in magazines and newspapers, and from manuscript copies in the P a r k Benjamin Collection, the editor has been able to increase the collection to a t o t a l of some four hundred and sixty poems, including an a p o c r y p h a of about fifty which may be Benjamin's but whose authorship is not definitely established. A complete collection of the poems, typed and annot a t e d , is in the P a r k Benjamin Collection. Since Benjamin published his verse widely in magazines and newspapers, f u r t h e r search may reveal a few additional poems, but the typed collection in the Columbia University Library is approximately complete. T h e success of this search has been made possible only t h r o u g h the unfailing courtesy and capable assistance of many librarians. The editor wishes to acknowledge his indebtedness to all these and especially to the American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, the Boston Public L i b r a r y , the Boston Athenaeum, the Massachusetts Historical Society, H a r v a r d University Lib r a r y , the Essex Institute L i b r a r y , Salem, Brown University L i b r a r y , the Connecticut Historical Society, T r i n i t y College L i b r a r y , Yale University L i b r a r y , Columbia University Lib r a r y , the Morgan L i b r a r y , New York, Union Theological Seminary L i b r a r y , General Theological Seminary L i b r a r y , the New York Public L i b r a r y , the New York Historical Society, the Newark Public L i b r a r y , the Pennsylvania Historical Society, the University of Pennsylvania L i b r a r y , the Philadelphia Public L i b r a r y , the Maryland Historical Society, the Enoch P r a t t Public Library, Baltimore, and the L i b r a r y of Congress. Most helpful also have been the two recent bibliographical compilations of American periodical literature made under the

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auspices of the University of Pennsylvania and of New Y o r k University with the aid of the W o r k s P r o g r e s s Administration. T h e editor is also g r a t e f u l to the late Lewis Chase, who located many poems in the less accessible periodicals and newsp a p e r s ; to P r o f e s s o r S. F o s t e r Damon, of Brown University, especially f o r help in locating musical settings of B e n j a m i n ' s p o e m s ; to P r o f e s s o r Oral S. Coad, of New J e r s e y College f o r Women, and to Professor Vernon C. Loggins, of Columbia University, f o r reading and criticizing the m a n u s c r i p t ; and t o his wife, whose f a i t h f u l , p a t i e n t editorial revision has been invaluable in p r e p a r i n g the manuscript f o r publication. M. M. H . Columbia University New York August, 1947

CONTENTS

Introduction

8 Period of Experiment,

1826-1835

The Vesper Bell Twilight The Omnipresence of God Lines Suggested by a View of the Ocean Illustration of a Landscape: Geneva by Moonlight A Flight of Fancy Hymn to the South-west Wind The Indian Summer To Mary A Poem on the Meditation of Nature (Selection!) The Departed (With a Reproduction of the Manuscript) Musings Sonnet: Plymouth Rock Hymn for the Blind Lines Spoken by a Blind Boy The Song of the Stromkerl The Stormy Petrel Jamaica Lake My Mary Sonnet: "Oh, that along the rolling waves of Time" Song: "Blow Gentle Gale" Sonnet by One Departing for Italy

27 28 29 80 82 88 85 87 88 89 41 48 48 46 47 SO 81 52 58 54 55 56

Period

of Maturity,

1836-1845

H y m n at Midnight Domestic Love T h e Same P a r t i n g Words at Sea On the D e a t h of J a m e s Madison T h e Serenade T h e Elysian Isle S o n g : " H o w cold are they who say that Love" " B i r d of My H e a r t ! " Sonnet: " 'Tis Winter now—but S p r i n g will blossom soon" T h e Tired H u n t e r Virgil's Tomb A Storm in Autumn Song to the Whippoorwill Sonnet to : "Flowers are love's truest language" Sonnet Written in View of the H a r b o r of New York My Books T h e Nautilus M. I. Sonnet: "Oh t r u a n t h e a r t ! come back to thine own home" Indolence Sport Youth and Age Sonnet: " L a d y , f a r e w e l l ! my heart no more to thee" " H o w Cheery Are the Mariners !" "Give Me F a m e ! " " T i m e Still Moves O n " Scripture Sonnets: St. Paul T o a L a d y with a Bouquet Content Summer Friends A G r e a t Name "Old T r i n i t y " T h e Old Sexton Sonnet: "Oh, for a life of freedom—give me wings" T h e Summer Shower

59 60 60 61 63 64 66 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 76 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 89 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98

"The Sweat of the Poor and the Blood oí the Brave" A Sonnet Written on H e a r i n g T h a t a Monument Was to Be Erected to the Memory of Sir Walter Scott The Old School-House Where Is Peace? The Northern Lights Sonnet: Frost Sonnet: "What marvel is it that, in other lands" Sonnet: "Dost thou remember, friend, the rude, wild place" Spring's Advent Lines Composed at "The Greenwood Cemetery" To My Mother Sonnet: "All things wear to me, as I older grow" Lines Sent with a Bouquet A Reminiscence of Beethoven Infatuation (Selection) Verses Written in an Album To One Remembered Love's Emblems Later

Period,

99 101 102 103 105 106 107 107 108 110 111 113 114 115 117 118 119 121

1846-1864

Lines Written on Christmas Eve Midnight Consolations Sonnets To Sonnet: "The midnight hour has passed—upon my eyes" Heart-Sorrow "Press On" Sonnet: "Here, sitting lonely in my quiet room" On Leaving My Country Home On the Death of My Mother My Lamp Snow Old Times Lines on the Building of a Church A Tropical Voyage To Powers' Statue of the Greek Slave

[ «» ]

125 126 128 129 130 181 133 135 136 138 139 140 141 144 145 148

A Paean for Independence Sonnet: A Life of Lettered Ease On My Little Son Who Died June 29, 1857 To My Wife The Age of Gold: a Lecture in Verse

ISO 162 163 165 169

Notes Index of Titles Index of First Lines

187 206 207

t *»]

POEMS OF PARK

BENJAMIN

INTRODUCTION A FTER ONE hundred years the poetry of Park Benjamin has /\ M

chiefly historical interest. One or two titles are remem-

A - b e r e d when his name is mentioned. His poems appeared

prominently in the various annuals and anthologies of the three decades before the Civil W a r , but have been included with less and less frequency since. B y the student of American literature Benjamin is remembered rather as a somewhat peppery editor whose caustic criticism and sharp epigrams brightened the magazine and newspaper columns of his day. A s a poet he is vaguely remembered as one who wrote much popular verse and published it widely, inconsiderable trifles of the day that passed with the day. I t is in the belief that his poems represent something more, especially historically, that they have been resurrected and a selection issued in the present volume. T h e y are arranged in chronological order to record the development of his poetic talent and to present a cross-section of typical popular verse in America during the period of the poet's active career. Park Benjamin's poems are representative of much of the popular poetry of his time. H e wrote and published during that ultraromantic, sentimental period before the Civil W a r , and no other poet strove more persistently to catch the interest of the sentimental reader. I n an editorial entitled "American P o e t r y " in the New-Yorker,-February

2, 1839, he wrote: " T h e literary

worker must be furnished with temporal as well as permanent supplies. The taste of the day must be satisfied, as well as the taste of posterity." Accordingly, as magazine and newspaper editor he kept close to his public ; he gave them what they wanted. This is indicated by the frequent and widely distributed reprint-

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Îngs of his poems. T o read his p o e t r y is to sense the emotional and spiritual interests of the general reader of t h a t day. There is an immediacy in magazine verse not evident in the more formal p o e t r y of published collections; it is nearer the people. Moreover, it is through Benjamin's p o e t r y t h a t we get some intimation of the real c h a r a c t e r of the man himself. Although he was known in his d a y as P a r k Benjamin the editor, he very much desired to be known as P a r k Benjamin the p o e t ; and he strove diligently to preserve his fame as a poet throughout a journalistic career t h a t tended to give him a very different reputation. T h e journalistic period in which he labored was one of turmoil and personal strife. As a magazine editor he followed the editorial p a t t e r n set f o r American magazines by the t r u c ulent editors of p o p u l a r British magazines and sedulously imitated by E d g a r Allan Poe and others in this country. Then, later, as a newspaper editor in New York he entered into the keen journalistic competition where t h a t editor succeeded who could color his columns with s t r o n g personal opinion and bitter invective. Accordingly, Benjamin's c h a r a c t e r , colorful in itself, acquired a f u r t h e r shading t h a t was not of himself but rather of the journalistic tradition of his day. B u t his poems show us a different man. Beneath is a man of fine feeling toward the world in which he lived, of kindly generosity toward his friends and acquaintances, of love f o r his home, his wife, and his children. And the ruling passion of his life was to advance the literat u r e of his country and to stimulate all who worked with him to t h a t end. T h e p o e t r y of P a r k Benjamin may be divided into three periods coincident with the three main periods of his life. F i r s t was an experimental period extending from his college days, 1825—1829, to its culmination in his editorship of the NeicEngland Magazine in 1835. Second was a period of rapidly developing m a t u r i t y reaching its culmination in his editorship of the New World, 1839—1845. And third was the period of varied activity ending with his death in 1864.

PERIOD

OF

E X P E R I M E N T ,

1825-1835

The period between 1825 and 1835 was one of prosperity and comparative ease for the poet. Life had graciously prepared the way. Born in Demerara, now Georgetown, British Guiana, August 14, 1809, 1 he was the son of a prosperous New England sea captain and merchant. When he was only three years old, he was stricken by a tropical disease, the effect of which left one leg shrunken and useless, so that he was forced all his life to use crutches. He was early brought to America under special care for his health and education. He was educated in private schools at Colchester, Connecticut, and Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. He entered Harvard in 1825 with the class that was to become the famous "Class of '29" of Oliver Wendell Holmes's occasional poems, and was thus a member of the stimulating literary group then forming in Boston and Cambridge. At the end of his second year he transferred to Washington College, now Trinity College, H a r t f o r d , Connecticut. Here he was the literary lion of a smaller community, which gave him much praise and honor. After his graduation from college he had a brief career as a newspaper editor in his home town of Norwich, Connecticut. He then returned to Harvard, where he entered the Law School. Later, after attending Yale Law School, he was admitted to the Massachusetts and Connecticut bars. Practice of the law, however, did not prove to his liking, and he soon abandoned it in favor of writing and editing. In 1831 Benjamin began to contribute to the New-England Magazine then getting under way with Joseph T . Buckingham and his son Edwin as editors. When the Magazine was sold to Samuel G. Howe and John O. Sargent, young Benjamin continued as contributor but also assisted as critic and editor. His editorial responsibility increased until, with the issue for March, 1835, he acquired complete editorial control. He was editor of ι For a complete biography see Hoover, Park Benjamin, tor, New York: Columbia University Press, 1948.

Poet and Edi-

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the New-England Magazine, the chief forerunner in New England of the Atlantic Monthly, until December, 1835. In January, 1836, it was merged with the American Monthly Magazine of New York in an attempt to combine the magazine talent of Boston and New York. Thus destiny was guiding the young poet toward an editorial career. I t was a career which he hoped would at the same time provide opportunity and stimulus for his development as a poet. The first poems of Benjamin of which we have record were published in 1827. These first attempts at poetic composition, written when he was seventeen, appeared in religious periodicals, notably the Epitcopal Watchman, H a r t f o r d . Evidently the two years at Harvard had been largely preparatory ; the Harvard Register, started in 1827, contains no contributions identified as Benjamin's. But these were productive years nevertheless, for they spurred him to try out his poetic talent, which was to develop so rapidly during the next two years at Washington College. With Holmes and his group he shared the desire to produce a worthy American literature. Likewise he shared their interest in eighteenth-century British poets—Thomson, Goldsmith, Gray, with, as their more recent literary gods, Crabbe, Scott, Tom Moore, Campbell, Wordsworth, and especially Byron. Like other students of his day he had a special interest in the Orientalism of the Romantics. Accordingly when Benjamin, now at Washington College, was called upon to read a poem at the third Junior Exhibition, April 17, 1828, he chose as his subject "The Battle of Navarino." 2 On December 17, 1828, he read before the Parthenon Literary Society a long poem, "The Parthenon" ; and a t his graduation, August 6, 1829, another, "The Fall of Nineveh." 3 These efforts, youthful and declamatory, show nevertheless that the young student even then had an unusual facility with the couplet, a form which he 2

The original manuscript is in the Park Benjamin Collection. »Later published in the Amateur, I (June 15, 1830), 2-Φ. Í 6 ]

was able to produce with ease and uniform excellence throughout his life. During the two years a t Washington College the young poet was fortunate in having the friendly guidance and criticism of the Reverend Norman Pinney, T u t o r in Mathematics. T h e two evidently collaborated, often quite closely, for later two poems frequently published over the signature of P a r k Benjamin were also ascribed to Norman Pinney. 4 I t was no doubt one of those indistinguishable collaborations such as are frequent between teacher and pupil. The College was proud of its young literary light, who had been at H a r v a r d and had known intimately the literary group there, and he was paraded a t all formal occasions. Naturally the young poet's talent flourished. I t was at H a r t f o r d t h a t young Benjamin also came under the influence t h a t not only distinctly shaped his editorial career but also touched his development as a poet. George D. Prentice came to H a r t f o r d in 1828 to become the first editor of the NetoEngland Weekly Review. H e was a native of Preston, Connecticut, the Benjamin ancestral home, and already a poet of some reputation. Accordingly the two quickly became close friends. T h e editor published Benjamin's college verse and praised it extravagantly. In the Weekly Review f o r August 10, 1829, he thus prefaced a selection from Benjamin's graduation poem: The Poem on "The Fall of Ninevah" [*ic] by our old correspondent, Mr. Benjamin, was decidedly the best thing we remember to have heard at any College Commencement. Mr. Benjamin knows what Poetry it—knows the difference between the grossness of ordinary materiality and the "etherial breath of Nature blown over the sleeping forms of Beauty," to waken them into life and motion. We know of no Poet, who would not be proud if he could lay his fipger upon the following lines, and call them his own. Is it any wonder t h a t he responded to such adulation? Prentice also influenced both the subjects and the manner of young Benjamin's verse a t this time. Benjamin's first verse had « Charles W. Everest, Th« Poett of Connecticut and Burnh&m, 1843), p. 887.

(Hartford: Case, Tiffany,

m

been very religious. In f a c t , the poet confessed later in his life t h a t he had intended to enter the ministry. I n a poem " T h e Penitent," published in 1850, he wrote: In the fair days gone forever, The holy hope was mine To guard among the priesthood, The worship of thy shrine, To break the sacramental bread, And pour the holy wine. B u t Prentice evidently directed P a r k Benjamin toward a more secular career and a t the same time directed his verse toward more secular subjects. Benjamin now followed Prentice in choosing as his subjects sentimental n a t u r e descriptions with mild meditations thereon, youthful musings, and valentine-like tributes to the ladies. A study of Prentice's poetry shows t h a t the two poets frequently used the same set images and the same conventional epithets.® I t was undoubtedly Prentice's influence t h a t now conventionalized Benjamin's poetry, an influence t h a t persisted a f t e r the poet had g r a d u a t e d from college and Prentice had relinquished the editorship of the New-England Weekly Review to John G. Whittier in 1830. When Benjamin returned to the H a r v a r d Law School and Boston in 1830, he renewed his friendships with Holmes, Sumner, Motley, and others of t h a t group. He also formed a close acquaintance with Nathaniel P a r k e r Willis, then one of the most promising of the younger American poets. As editor of the American Monthly Magazine of Boston, Willis was already manifesting the mannerisms and affectations t h a t were to mark the man, his editorial efforts, his prose and his poetry. He now published Benjamin's best poems. I n the issue for June, 1830, appeared "Evening in J u n e " ; in September of the same year, " T h e P a r t h e n o n " in its entirety ; in October, "Geneva by Moonl i g h t " ; and in December, an e x t r a c t from "Musing H o u r s , " 8 β Poemt of George D. Prentice, edited with a biographical sketch by John James Piatt, Cincinnati: Robert Clarke and Co., 1876. β See Notes, pp. 188, 190. [«]

one of the best of Benjamin's early poems. In "The Editor's Table," in a criticism of certain contemporary verse, Willis added this note of praise concerning "Geneva by Moonlight": You cannot show me more beautiful poetry than some of those passages [by Albert Pike] I have printed in Italics. The great beauty of them (and it is the great difference between genius and mediocrity) is the selectness of the epithets and their fine descriptiveness. Park Benjamin is a writer of this description—a master of a full, heightened, and yet scholar-like and classical style. I have a piece of his in my drawer, written on a picture of Lake Geneva by Moonlight. Here it is : 7 Then follows the poem. Nor could a better statement be quoted to show the influence of Willis upon Benjamin's poetry. The influence was fortunately brief—it was terminated by a personal quarrel—but for a time Benjamin's poems were embroidered with Willis's artificial images and affected Oriental allusions. Then, in 1831, Benjamin formed a connection which was later to become close and intimate. In the New-England Magazine for August of that year appeared his "Hymn to the South-West Wind," and for the next four years this magazine printed a large p a r t of his verse. Since the poems came under the careful scrutiny of the editors, J . T . Buckingham and later Dr. Samuel G. Howe and John O. Sargent, they were written with special care. And later, when Benjamin became editor, personal pride dictated the same careful workmanship. Accordingly, in the poems in the New-England Magazine we can trace a steady improvement in technique. He gradually sloughed off the conventionalism of Prentice and the affectation of Willie. By 1832 and thereafter he was generally his own man, writing on his own themes in his own way. During the years 1831-1835 he produced some of his most finished verse. During his years at Washington College he began to practice the sonnet form. He was evidently attracted to it, for he continued to produce it, not only through an experimental period, but on through his life. In fact, Park Benjamin was one τ American Monthly Magazin«, II (October, 1880), βΟβ-β.

[0]

of the first American poets to write sonnets steadily and consistently throughout his literary career. Before 1825 comparatively few American poets had published sonnets. In the three volumes of Samuel Kettell's Specimens of American Poetry,* which was published in Boston in 1829 and which is fairly representative of American poetry to t h a t date, there are by contemporaries only seven sonnets—and one of these is a well-known sonnet of Wordsworth ascribed by mistake to William Croswell.® In H a r t f o r d a t this time there was evidently an awakening of interest in the form. The New-England Weekly Review and the Episcopal Watchman, which printed much of the poetical production of Washington College and literary H a r t ford, contained during 1828—1829 a number of sonnets by Norman Pinney and others. I t was quite probably under the influence of this group that young Benjamin wrote and published his first sonnets. 10 Thereafter he continued to practice diligently ; up to the close of 1835 he published a t least fifteen sonnets. His first attempts were quite irregular, but he steadily gained control. I t is true that of all his sonnets few are completely regular in form; however, they do have flexibility and case, contain finished lines of merit, and are usually well rounded. One of the best of his earlier sonnets—and in regular Shakespearean form—is a tribute to Samuel Goldsborough, of Maryland, a former college mate, inserted toward the close of the Poem on the Meditation of Nature. (See page 40.) This poem was read a t the first meeting of the Association of the Alumni of Washington College, September 26,1832. I t is of some length, s Samuel Kettell, Specimens of American Poetry, 3 vols., Boston: S. G. Goodrich and Co., 1829. • William Cullen Bryant, however, wrote eight sonnets between 1824 and 1828. He wrote only one more, "In Memory of John Lothrop Motley," In 1877. See Lewis G. Sterner, Tkt Bonnet in American Literature (Philadelphia, 1980), pp. 8 ff. io The first authenticated original sonnet we have is "Sonnet. Act» Ix. 4-9," published In the EpUeopal Watchman, March 28, 1829. If we accept "Twilight," probably written In collaboration with Norman Pinney (see Notes, p. 187), be began to publish even earlier; for this sonnet was published July 28, 1828. There were undoubtedly many other youthful attempts.

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slightly over four hundred lines, and is in heroic couplets. It is mildly Wordsworthian, and is notable chiefly for its consistent handling of the couplet. The poem was much praised at the time, and was published in pamphlet form. 11 In 1833 Benjamin published the first collection of his poems as his share of The Harbinger.12 The poems in this volume were written by three friends—Park Benjamin, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and John O. Sargent. The small volume was attractively bound, for it was a gift book to be sold at a fair given under the patronage of Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis of Boston for the New England Institution for the Education of the Blind. Benjamin's offering, nineteen poems in all, represents the best that he had written so far. Holmes also published here the first collection of his poems ; among them are "The Last Leaf"—with its original unfortunate rhyme, "forlorn" and "gone"—"My Aunt," and "To an Insect." Sargent's poems are unfortunately forgotten along with his name. Benjamin's poems compare well with those of the other two—if we discount Holmes's inimitable humor—and show commendable range and power. During the years 1832-1835 Benjamin published some of his best-known poems. "The Departed" 13 appeared in August, 1832; "Musings" 14 in November, 1832; and, in December, 11 Park Benjamin, A Poem on the Meditation of Nature (Hartford: F. J. Huntington, 1832). 12 The Harbinger; a May-Oift (Boston: Carter, Hendee, 1833). is P. 41. The poem was first published in the Connecticut Mirror, Hartford, August 4, 1832, with a preface beginning, "The verses below are from the pen of a poet of high distinction." κ P. 43; also pp. 188, 190. "Musings" contains the lines praised by John Greenleaf Whittier in his "Notes" to his Moll Pitcher, a Poem (Boston: Carter, Hendee, 1832). Quoting his own lines, Again the roses of her heart Are in their brightest blossoming. Whittier says: "Upon a re-perusal of my poem I And I have adopted in the above lines an idea far more beautifully expressed in a poem by Park Benjamin, Etq. Oh !—there are roses in the heart, Which bloom awhile then fade and die; But the left seeds will sometimes start Up into life again and try, If kindlier breezes waft their balm, etc."

{in

1834, "My Mary." 15 Indeed these three poems represent probably the highest artistic point in his poetic career, just as this period represents a high point in his personal career. Life was now going well with him. With his charming sisters, Mary Elizabeth and Susan Margaret, he had established at 14 Temple Place, Boston, a home of refinement and culture that was a rallying place for the younger literary group there. He had many friends. He was winning a recpgnized place as a critic and as the editor of the foremost magazine in New England. He was highly praised as a poet of rising hope and promise. Quite naturally his poetic talent responded, and now reached a high level. We may wonder what heights it might have attained had life continued to go so well with him. PERIOD

OF

MATURITY,

1836-1845

Between the years 1836 and 1845 Park Benjamin attained his maturity both as an editor and as a poet. Although at the end of this period he was still a comparatively young man, the pressure of circumstances had ripened him far beyond his years. In some of his verse he protests that he is not old ; yet we know t h a t he is. This-personal and poetical maturing was again coincident with his ripening as an editor. At its beginning the merger of the New-England Magazine in the American Monthly Magazine in New York augured well. Benjamin planned to live in Boston and to continue his home and literary interests there, with frequent visits to New York for collaboration with Charles Fenno Hoffman, the editor-inchief. Under their joint control the magazine rapidly gained prestige even against the friendly but keen rivalry of the already well-established Knickerbocker. But just as the new p r o j ect was getting well under way, misfortune struck both the magazine and its editors. On the night of July 13, 1836, the publishing plant of George Dearborn and Company was burned, is p. 53. This poem was widely reprinted—once in the Dublin University Magazine, December, 1839, with the statement, "We have much pleasure in giving insertion to these lines from our trans-Atlantic friend."

with the entire issue of the number then in press. At the same time began the depression that was to culminate in the panic of 1837. Benjamin had invested not only in the magazine but also in the publishing house, and he had made other unfortunate investments. Subscriptions decreased as the depression increased. As a composite result of these difficulties the American Monthly was published with more and more effort until with the number for September, 1838, it ceased. Benjamin was left practically bankrupt. During this same year, however, when his financial circumstances were at low tide, he formed one of the most interesting journalistic, and personal, contacts of his life. For early in 1838 he had become assistant editor of Horace Greeley's NewYorker. In October he became literary editor. Through his apprenticeship to Greeley he learned much of the a r t of the journalist; he also began to perceive the possibilities of the weekly semiliterary paper. Out of this experience grew later the daily Evening Signal and the weekly Nexo World, the editorship of which was to mark the summit of Park Benjamin's fame as an editor. He was the editor of the New World from its beginning in October, 1839, almost to its close in May, 1845. During these years he was one of the most widely known editors in the United States, one whose ability and influence were recognized throughout the country. But this typically American progress through failure to success exacted its price from P a r k Benjamin the man and the poet. I t cost him his youth. During these same years his personal circumstances changed j u s t as rapidly. In 1837 his sister Mary Elizabeth married John Lothrop Motley, and his other sister, Susan Margaret, married one of Motley's close friends, Joseph Lewis Stackpole. Thus Benjamin's attractive and comfortable home in Boston was broken up and he was left to take up bachelor quarters in New York. T o a dependent, home-loving man this change was distressing. Fortunately he was blessed with a small but loyal group of personal friends. But with no haven to turn to during [15]

this period of financial worry, he was compelled to fight out his battles in loneliness. He changed from a care-free young man to a mature man, now compelled to hold his own in a journalistic world of keen and sometimes heartless competition. Quite n a t u r a l l y all of this experience had its effect upon the poet. H e was no longer free to write when and as he pleased ; he was now compelled to meet the demands of his profession. The readers of the American Monthly Magazine must have a t least one or two poems a month, and he wrote for other publications as well. His readers craved sentiment—love poems, lyrics of f a i t h f u l and especially of disappointed love. They craved sad things—laments over dead friends and dead children. They craved n a t u r e descriptions shot through with the pathetic fallacy. All this p o p u l a r demand inevitably shaped to a large extent the themes and the n a t u r e of his poetry. In addition, a growing critical insight among readers demanded t h a t poetry be well written. Accordingly Benjamin continued to file and polish his lines. D u r i n g the years 1836 to 1838 he strove conscientiously and persistently t o meet the demands of the readers of the magazines and to meet them worthily. I t is evident also t h a t the deepening personal experience of these years was leaving its mark upon his poetry, with a considerable gain in individuality. T h e j a u n t y Byronic tone of his earlier conventional love lyrics gives way to sincerity. T h e young poet has lost his home and he is anxious, very anxious, to establish one of his own. Accordingly he addresses many a wistful lyric to selected ladies of his choice. B u t the response was not as he desired, and his love poems take on, more and more, a tone of disappointment and disillusionment. Finally he addresses his pleas to a Shelley-like abstraction named Blanche. Also, as financial and professional failure crushes him, he attempts, a f t e r the manner of all human kind, to find a reason for his failure. He a t t e m p t s to distill from his experience a satisfying philosophy of life, with satisfying purposes and ends. I t is significant t h a t during this same time he wrote some of the best [U]

of his humorous poems, showing that through all of his bitterness he was not losing his sense of proportion, of perspective. When the failure of the American Monthly Magazine led to his editorial connection with the New-Yorker, life began anew, and Benjamin responded with renewed poetical vigor. During a preliminary connection with the New-Yorker he published in its columns poetry that he had published previously or was publishing at the same time in the American Monthly, adding an "original" poem from time to time. In the interim before he became literary editor in October, 1838, he published one or two poems in the New-York Mirror, one of which was "How Cheery Are the Mariners," frequently reprinted in anthologies of the time. And when he was literary editor between October, 1838, and October, 1839, he frequently wrote original poems for the New-Yorker, such as, for example, "Give Me Fame"— which signaled the beginning of his literary editorship—and especially the "St. Paul" cycle of sonnets published J a n u a r y 12, 1839. During 1839 he considerably widened his fame by publishing poems in most of the prominent magazines of the country. In the Knickerbocker for J a n u a r y , 1839, he was announced as a regular contributor. He published poems in Godey's Lady's Book, which were immediately reprinted in the Ladies' Companion; he later wrote a series of poems for the Companion. He contributed to the United States Magazine and Democratic Review, and to the Southern Literary Messenger. In fact, the year 1839 was one of the best years for the poet. When we note that in the four years 1836—1839 he wrote over one hundred poems and was able to publish many of them in the best magazines of the country, we must respect Benjamin's persistent devotion to his muse. I t was evident during 1839 that Benjamin was attempting to find an opportunity for independent journalistic effort. He made an opportunity in that same year. After a brief connection with the founding of the Evening Tattler and the Brother [i5]

Jonathan, he started, as editor-in-chief, the daily Evening Signal and its weekly, the New World, in October, 1839. As editor of the Neio World, its subsidiaries, and " E x t r a s " he now experienced for over five years the busiest period of his life. His duties were onerous and insistent. Accordingly he had time to write comparatively few poems. But some of these are among his best known. " T h e Old Sexton" was published in the New World, March 21, 1840. I t was very popular and was set to music and so published, as was also "The Old School-House." Others like "The Northern Lights," "The Nautilus," and "The Sweat of the Poor and the Blood of the Brave" were widely published in the newspapers of the time and in contemporary anthologies. He also continued to develop his mastery of the sonnet. During the years 1836 to 1845, when he relinquished his editorship of the New World, the poet produced nearly fifty sonnets, some of which—for example "A Storm in Autumn," "Indolence," and " S p o r t " — a r e considered among his best. During the early forties P a r k Benjamin's poetry suffered attack as a by-product of the journalistic war then raging between the New World and the Brother Jonathan. Benjamin had helped to found the Brother Jonathan in 1839 and then had abandoned it to set up the rival New World, with the result that there was continuous sharpshooting by the respective editors. Park Benjamin was accused of plagiarism in "The Old Sexton" : he was accused of having stolen it from Charles Dance's "Song of the Grave Digger." Since the charge was frequently repeated, Dance's poem is printed in the Notes, pages 197—198 of this volume, to show that the charge was unfounded. At the same time "The Old Sexton," "The Old School-House," and "The Departed" were dissected and held up to scorn. Later his poems were caught in the crossfire of another quarrel, between the New World and the New-York Mirror. But little harm was done to P a r k Benjamin's poetical fame. All of this was considered at t h a t time to be good advertising for both the editor and the poet. His poems were now widely reprinted in the

[16]

newspapers and magazines of the country ; his fame was secure. During these same years Park Benjamin arrived at definite critical standards for his poetry. He had stated his principles of poetical composition and poetical excellence frequently in the editorials and critical notices in his various periodicals. He summed up his critical dicta in a poem Poetry: a Satire,19 which he read before the Mercantile Library Association of New York on its twenty-second anniversary, November 9, 1842. Although the poem is a satire against the weaknesses that have caused a decline in contemporary drama and in contemporary poetry, he briefly sets forth some of his own ideals for poetry : Verse is an art, by diligence acquired, To be long wooed and fervently desired, Ere, like a maiden, passionate and pure, Her smiles are granted and her faith secure. For the language of poetry, he says, Give me the Saxon, bubbling on the ear Like a swift stream, that sparkles cool and clear; I hate your Norman phrases grand and fine That spoil the vigour while they oil the line. Sesquipedalian, and of foreign sound, Transplanted logs that cumber English ground. Words terse and simple best convey the thought, By Genius prompted and by Wisdom taught; And Truth, like perfect loveliness, can boast To be, when unadorned, adorned the most. And for the subjects of poetry, The common objects in our paths supply Shapes that are charming to the poet's eye. Pictures, as soft as ever Guido drew, He finds reflected in a drop of dew, And colours, mingled with a Titian's skill, On a flower's leaf he traces at his will. The golden insect, from a worm that springs, And upward soars on frail yet brilliant wings; ie New York: J. Winchester, 1842.

[17]

Type of the soul appears, released from earth, To sport and revel in a heavenly birth. A f t e r decrying the decline of the drama, and aiming the keen barbs of his satire against the female sentimentalists and Delia Cruscans in general, he closes his poem with a peroration, in which he answers the claim t h a t poetry "no longer triumphs in the human breast." No longer triumphs! What! has Faith decayed? Can Friendship falter and Affection fade? Can Pity fail, and Passion quench his fire, And Hope and Fear, and Joy and Grief expire? Can tearful Sympathy and vocal Mirth, And all that saddens, all that gladdens Earth, Depart like shadows in the morning-liour, Melt like the frost and perish like the flower? They cannot die ! they are themselves the soul, Which, born in Heaven, exults o'er Time's control. These are the founts of Heliconian streams, And these the shapes that haunt the poet's dreams; While they exist, the noble art they gave Laughs at Oblivion and defies the grave. LATER

PERIOD,

1846-1864

T h e year 1845 marked the end of the most productive and most successful period in Benjamin's life. T h e years 1839-1845 had been a period of sustained effort editorially, and brought with them compensation in achievement and satisfaction. B u t when the New World declined and ended—chiefly for reasons beyond Benjamin's control—the poet's life and poetic effort declined with it. He strove to rehabilitate himself professionally in various ways. In 1846 he migrated to Baltimore, where he attempted to reconstruct the New World in a similar weekly, the Western Continent ; but he resigned the editorship a f t e r six months, and returned to New York. Here, during the next few years, he launched several weeklies, among them a "New Series" of the New World; none of these, however, survived more t h a n

[18]

a few months. He was associated with other periodicals from time to time. He conducted a successful publishing agency and acted as publishing agent for authors here and abroad. He even dabbled in real estate. But the faith and enthusiasm that had launched and sustained the New World so successfully had gone. He had sensed the coming of defeat when the New World was in its decline. In a poem, Infatuation, which he read before the Mercantile Library Association of Boston, October 9 , 1 8 4 4 , before an audience many of whom had witnessed the enthusiastic beginnings of his youthful effort, he spoke these prophetic lines : Yet let me not deny a loftier aim Than that which I have ventured thus to claim. I f by my aid one truth has triumphed, then Contented I resign thee, faithful pen! Go to thy rest, where never hand of mine, Can trace with thee the rude, yet earnest line ; Go to thy rest with all that thou hast done— Sallies of sense, experiments at fun, Songs, sonnets, satires, epigrams and plays, The sport of younger, toil of older days ; Let none survive, (a most superfluous prayer,) But all thy quiet, thy oblivion share ! Then unregardful of your praise or blame, Ye critic-tribe, ye almoners of fame ! I shall beg nothing of your mercy, save Λ name unnoted and a peaceful grave. Enough for me, if partial love can tell "He worshipped truth, and kept her precepts well, The false he hated, though the world received, And in imposture never once believed, He loved his kind, but sought the love of few, And valued old opinions more than new." Be this my epitaph: from man I ask This meed alone for Life's laborious task; No further recompense, no more renown, No greener laurel and no brighter crown.17 " Park Benjamin, Infatuation: a Poem, spoken before the Mercantile Library Association of Boston October 9, 1644 (Boston: W. D. Ticknor and Co., 1844), pp. 30-31.

[19]

This sense of finality with a concomitant sense of indecision characterized Benjamin's poetry between 1846 and 1848. He wrote a few poems f o r the Western Continent t h a t showed something of former fire. He also published a few poems in Graham'» Magazine and in various weeklies ; but they manifest little of his former ability. They were written chiefly for paid publication; only one or two are important. Then on February 11, 1848, occurred the personal tragedy that brought the discouragement of the two years to its lowest depth. His mother, Mrs. James Lanman, was fatally burned in her home in Norwich, Connecticut, when her dress caught fire from the grate in her room. P a r k Benjamin was ill a t the time and unable to attend her funeral. One of his most poignant poems is "On the Death of My Mother." Then, in the same year, in compensation for the supreme personal loss of his life came the supreme personal gain of his life. F o r on M a y 8 , 1 8 4 8 , he married M a r y Brower Western, daughter of H e n r y M. Western, a New York lawyer. This event gave a new lease of life to P a r k Benjamin the man and P a r k Benjamin the poet. As a man he was steadied and his life directed into new and important channels. As a poet he again settled down to renewed effort. He published poems in Godey's, in Graham's, in Sartain's, and in other prominent magazines. Although he never recovered the lyric power of his earlier days, either in quality or in quantity, he did produce a few of his best-known poems during the years t h a t followed his marriage. Moreover, it was his astute and practical young wife who turned his facility in poetical composition into a lucrative channel. W i t h a home to s u p p o r t and a family in prospect, he was urged by her to enter the lecture field, then a most promising one as the American Lyceum and its lecture system spread throughout the nation. Benjamin could produce rhymed couplets in quantity and in sustained quality. He could also declaim his lines with a resonant, musical voice, and he had a strong sense of the dramatic. [110]

His wife saw the possibilities in combining these talents for the lecture platform. Her judgment was, as it proved, sound and good. Beginning in 1849, he lectured with more and more frequency for the remainder of his life. He usually appeared on the same program with a more serious lecturer—Horace Greeley, E. P. Whipple, or Henry W a r d Beecher, among others. He would introduce the evening's program with a rhymed satire full of effective and telling lines, and thus serve as a curtain raiser f o r the more solid offering to follow. Or he could provide the entire evening's entertainment with a lecture in prose or in verse. 18 Because of his lameness, he usually read his lines from a stool supporting him behind the reading desk. This raised his large torso to commanding position, with resulting effectiveness for his eloquence. He began lecturing in the vicinity of New York and Boston; later he extended his tours through New England, New York, and out into the Middle West to Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan. He also made one or two tentative tours of the South. His life as a lecturer was a hard one—traveling conditions and hotel accommodations provided varying degrees of comfort. In addition, he was severely handicapped by ill health and by his lameness—several accidents during these years crippled him still further. Nevertheless he pluckily carried on, and we must admire his courage and persistence. T o be sure, the life was rich in experience, in personal relationships, and in the pleasure of meeting appreciative audiences in all p a r t s of the country. And always there was the recompense of return to his home, his wife, and his increasing family of beloved children. As the Civil W a r appeared on the horizon, P a r k Benjamin sensed the coming conflict, and added his poetic voice to the is The Age of Gold is included in this selection to show what these verse lectures were like. See pp. 159-83. Other titles include Fashion, H a r d Times, Modern Society, Money: a Love, True Independence, and/Youth and Beauty. Not all of his lectures, of course, were satirical and facetious; he could on occasion give a serious and instructive discourse. Nevertheless, it was his rhymed satires that brought him his greatest popularity and fame as a lecturer.

[«]

rising patriotism in the North. He did not live to see the end of the war. He died at his home in New York September 12,1864. His last short poem, written a few months before his death, was " T o My Wife." Park Benjamin is worthy of a place among the minor American poets of the nineteenth century. When his poems, assembled from widely scattered publications, are studied as a whole, they show a considerable range. They include vers de société, occasional poems, poems of sentiment, of nature, of humor, of human nature and human aspiration. He wrote many songs, hymns, and odes that were set to music. While he never attained a height—or a depth—worthy to lift him into the first rank of American poets, he produced a body of poetry sufficient, both in quantity and in quality, to entitle him to a recognized position among our minor poets. As we read his poems in toto, we must agree with E d g a r Allan Poe, who wrote of him in 1841, when he was at the height of his reputation, "As a poet, he is entitled to f a r higher consideration than t h a t in which he is ordinarily held." 19 I t is unfortunate for his fame as a poet that he was compelled as an editor to write to meet the demands of the sentimental readers of the magazines and newspapers of his day. But when we sift the poetic wheat from the professional chaff, we find considerable lyric perception and power expressed with consistent ease and grace. Oliver Wendell Holmes once said of him, "He wrote a great deal and with great ease. He could extemporize verse with remarkable facility." 20 As a writer of graceful fugitive verse he deserves greater fame than he has had. Poe also added in the criticism just cited, "His sonnets have not been surpassed." While this is inordinate praise, even for 1841, 21 there is some truth in it so f a r as nineteenth-century 1» "A Chapter on Autography," In Oraham'i Magazine, X I X (November, 1841), 226. m Letter of Holmes to Mrs. Mary Ferris, August 31, 1888; copy in Park Benjamin Collection. 21 Certainly this is high praise when we remember that Jones Very's Ettayt and. Poems, fostered by Emerson and published in 1839, included flfty-

[00]

American literature is concerned. He was one of the first American poets to attempt the sonnet form. He was also able to sustain his control over this form at a commendable level, and he wrote sonnets throughout his life—a total of almost a hundred. He was, accordingly, one of the most productive of the American sonneteers of the period before the Civil War and one of sustained ability. 22 When Leigh Hunt and S. Adams Lee published The Book of the Sonnet in 1867, three years after Park Benjamin's death, they printed thirteen of his sonnets and praised them as clever and thoughtful. 23 They praised his humorous sonnets especially. His sonnets are rarely regular. But if they are not held to strict accountability as to form, they will be found to represent his lyric power at its best, as well as his facility and ease in ftve sonnets. ( W . 1. Bartlett, /one« Very, Emerion'i "Brave 8aint." D u r ham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1942, p. 81.) Lowell's first volume of poems, published in J a n u a r y of 1841, contained thirty-five sonnets. (James Russell Lowell, A Year'i Life, Boston: Little and Brown, 1841.) 22 Lowell, who was rigidly selective when republishing his poems, retained only two of his sonnets f r o m the 1841 edition in the sequence that remained standard through most of his later collections. However, he published about sixty sonnets during Benjamin's lifetime. Of the other m a j o r contemporaries, Longfellow, the greatest American sonneteer of the nineteenth century, wrote his first sonnet in 1842, and published only two others before the Divina Commedia sonnets appeared in 1864, the year of Benjamin's death. ( F e r r i s Greenslet, ed., The Sonnetι of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1907, Introduction, p. xi.) Whittier wrote only three sonnets during Benjamin's lifetime. ( T h e Writing» of John Oreenleaf Whittier, Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 18881889.) Both Longfellow and Whittier wrote the m a j o r i t y of their sonnets late In their careers. Holmes wrote only eleven sonnets. ( T h e Complete Poetical Work» of Oliver Wendell Holme», Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1908.) Poe wrote only five sonnets. ( T h e Work» of Edgar Allan Poe, New York: Duffield Co., 1908.) Of the minor contemporary poets, only George Henry Boker, generally credited with being the greatest American sonneteer of his time a f t e r Longfellow, published a larger number of sonnets ; but he did not begin his remarkable sequence of 314 love sonnets until 1857, within seven years of the end of Benjamin's life. The best chronological and analytical study of the American sonnet is Lewis G. Sterner's The Sonnet in American Literature, Philadelphia, 1930. In drawing his conclusions concerning P a r k Benjamin, D r . Sterner states that he has read twenty-one of Benjamin's sonnets. 23 I, 117-19; I I , 146-Í5. [ 2 3 ]

poetic composition. They contain many excellent lines and couplets. I n spite of their deficiencies, Benjamin's sonnets, in terms of both quantity and quality, deserve recognition in nineteenth-century American literature. P a r k Benjamin's persistence in developing the sonnet was characteristic of the poet. By continual practice he gained command over a variety of stanza forms and rhythms. His facility with the rhymed couplet was notable. Even during periods of editorial stress he always found time for his verse; in fact, his busiest periods as an editor were his most expressive as a poet. Thus throughout his life his craftsmanship was firmly under control. His subject matter, on the other hand, was largely beyond his control. As editor, he was compelled to meet the taste of the magazine and newspaper reader of his day. Accordingly his verse, overromantic, sentimental, and obvious, mirrors the popular literary taste of his time. He himself never made specious claims as to the high quality of his p o e t r y ; he was too honest a critic. He was writing popular verse. And yet he revealed a good bit of his real self in it. As we read his verse, we catch glimpses of a spirit quite different from that of the militant editor and caustic critic who were his other selves. Here we come close to the man.

P E R I O D OF

EXPERIMENT

1825-1835

THE

VESPER

BELL

How deep and mournfully at eve's sweet hour, The bell for Vespers chimes its holiest note ; When the soft twilight lends its soothing power, And through the air a stillness seems to float ! The weary wanderer knows a home of rest, He toils not now who toiled the livelong day, Friends cherish fondest recollections, blest With thoughts of those whose love cannot decay. The best affections of the heart are told, We greet with joy our dear domestic hearth, And think how strong the twining cords which hold Unwearied love to transient things of earth ! And visions of his lyre the poet sees, At that lone time of nature's sweet repose, When fancied music, borne on every breeze, .Xolian-like with thrilling sadness flows. Oh ! then move thoughts the holiest and best O'er the' soul's calm and mild serenity ; Like beauteous birds which skim along the breast Of the still waters in some waveless sea. Where that deep bell sends forth its solemn tone, How many worship at the shrine ! How many voices come before the throne, Whence the bright glories of the Godhead shine ! Not when the beauties of the opening day With crimson blushes usher in the dawn ; Not when the noontide pours its deepest ray On forest glade, blue lake, and verdant lawn ; Not when the moonbeams stream their silvery light, In richest gushings, over copse and dell, Come pure devotion's thoughts and fancies bright, As when at evening sounds the Vesper Bell.

[07]

T W I L I G H T

Calm Twilight ! in thy mild and stilly time, When Summer flowers their perfume shed around, And nought save the deep, solitary sound Of some f a r bell is heard with solemn chime, Tolling for Vespers, or the evening bird— Sending low music through the shady grove Sweet as the gentle breathings of first love— While not a leaf by Zephyr's breath is stirred: As the faint crimson lingers on the wave, Fond thoughts of those beloved and nearest come, And memory's dews with gentle freshness lave Joys that once blossomed in the bower of home. Oh, that my last day-beam of Life would shine As purely beautiful, calm hour, as thine !

THE OMNIPRESENCE

OF

GOD

The Lord, the high and holy One, Is present everywhere; Go to the regions of the sun, And thou wilt find him there. Go to the hidden ocean caves, Where man hath never trod, And there beneath the flashing waves Will be thy Maker, God. Fly swiftly on the morning's wing, To distant realms of earth ; Where'er young birds with sweetness sing, And warble forth their mirth, Where'er the lion makes his lair, Or reindeer bounds, unseen; Thou'lt find his ready presence there, And know where God hath been. All Nature speaks of Him who made The earth and air and sky; The fruit that falls, the leaves that fade, The flowers that bloom to die, The lofty mountain, lowly vale, And mighty forest trees, The rocks that battle with the gale, The ever rolling seas; All tell the omnipresent Lord, The God of boundless might, By angels loved, by saints adored, Whose dwelling is the light!

LINES

SUGGESTED

V I E W OF T H E

BY A

OCEAN

Dash on ! dash on ! ye crowned and crested waves, In majesty pursue your wide career, Gather your hosts from their resounding caves, And plumed and marshalled in your ranks appear. W a f t on the ships of nations—let the wings Of commerce whiten your Atlantic plain, And lightly rock the sailor as he clings With nought between the giddy mast and main. How beautiful beneath the Heavens ye roll, Foaming and glittering to the rocky shore, Like white-maned coursers rushing towards their goal, Whose housings gleam with jewels crusted o'er. When clouds portend an elemental strife, With what a solemn grandeur onward throng Your countless bands as if with vengeance rife, And eager for a combat, fierce and long ! Well do I love thee, ever glorious sea, Whether upheaving thy tempestuous surge (Jpon the strand, and bounding fast and free With wild commotion to the horizon's verge, Or peaceful slumbering, when the morning sky Bends in translucent calmness o'er thy breast, Or when, commingling with thy waters, lie Eve's crimson banners on the fading west. O f t have I dreamed in youth's creative time Of all the lands thy billows bright surround, Of level landscapes and of steeps sublime— Broad bays, clear coves by storm-tost vessels found. And of the silver, gold and gems that pave The gloomiest depth of thy untrodden floor, And of the wrecks, which every distant wave Heaves up and heaps on many a desert shore

[50]

Thou didst bereave me once of all the soul Held best and dearest, and the shade of years Doth not conceal the sorrow and the dole— It cannot hide from memory the tears, The disappointment, and regret and pain, The blinding mists before the happy day Of my young life, when, like the fallen rain, My loved one sank within thy tombs away. Yet do I love thee, infinite abyss ! For thou dost image the unchanging power Of Him, whose feet thy wildest waters kiss, Then sink to peace in midnight's darkest hour; Of Him who, where thy liquid realms expand, Or where they narrow to a gliding rill, Holds thee forever in His hollow hand, And bids the billows and the blast " B e still !"

[ S I ]

I L L U S T R A T I O N A

OF

L A N D S C A P E

GENEVA

BT

MOONLIGHT

Geneva! colored with the glorious light, That genius, from his magic fountain, throws; The unrolled splendors of the sapphire night, Are on the frostings of thine Alpine snows— And o'er thy vales with emerald verdure bright, And on thy glittering roofs—the picture shows A scene that erst, beneath a tempest sky I n awful grandeur, met Childe Harold's eye ! There J u r a lifts his bared brow to the storm, With starlit diadem and icy zone, And vassal clouds that throng around his form, The misty drapery of his rock-piled throne— While winds from out their lowly caverns warm, Sweep coldly up with reverential moan, To do high homage to their mountain king; And then come rushing back on frozen wing! And o'er the margin of the sloping shore Leans the rude fisher, with extended line, Regardless of the star-enamelled floor, So placid in its workmanship divine— But on his cottage-window gazing more, Where the dim rushlight by his babes doth shine; Deeming one look upon their closed eyes, Worth all the splendors of a paradise. How strangely mingled ! all that's soft and grand, And beautiful in nature, she bestows On this loved spot with unretaining hand. See how the moon-shafts shiver on the snows Of Jura's hills ! how the vine-covered land Beneath their feet in dark luxuriance glows ! How still the water! how undimmed the a i r ' And over all the glorious heaven, how fair !

A F L I G H T OF

FANCY

Sweet Fancy, golden-pinioned bird, Once left awhile his starry nest, To float upon the breeze, that stirred The plumage of his glistening breast. Sometimes in gem-hung caves delaying, And then through spicy forests straying, H e wandered 'mid those blessed isles T h a t dimple ocean's cheek, like smiles; H e dallied with the merry ware, And, diving through the glassy water, Brought in his beak, from its shell cave, A pearl, Circassia's loveliest daughter, In the rich clustering of her hair, Might blush with very pride to wear! Then, tired of sport like this, he flew Along the deep, in beauty sleeping, To that sweet clime, whose sky of blue Is with its chastened splendor steeping A land, whose river's rosy tide Is blushing like a virgin bride— Whose mountains high, and emerald vales, Are kissed by incense-laden gales. And there, o'er ruins, ivy-wreathed, H e heard rich music sweetly breathed, O'er moss-decked arch, and broken shrine, H e saw their ancient glory shine; Yet here, amid his favorite bowers, Where once he dearly loved to dwell— I n this delicious land of flowers, Where Memory, with magic spell, Creates new forms of joy and light— H e could not stay his restless wing; But, shaking thence the dew-drops bright, H e plucked the first red rose of spring: [S3]

Then, blending with the heavenly blue, Like arrowy gleam, away he flew ! Where next did gold-plumed Fancy roam? He sought the bright star's brightest ray That gilds his own celestial home, And bore it in his glance away. Then, when the sunset richly burned, Unto the earth once more he turned: And as his wing grew tired and weak, He found a lovely lady's bower, And on her lip, and o'er her cheek, Softly suffused the pearl and flower; Then, in her pure eye's brilliancy, He shot the star-gleam from his own; And, charmed as much as bird can be, Flew back to his far, starry throne ! This happened long ago;—but now, Each pretty maiden, when she hears Of locks that cluster round a brow Which like the stainless snow appears— Of cheeks, whose mingled red and white Seem like pink roses crushed on pearl— Of eyes, whose soft and mellow light Is like a star's, where clouds unfurl— Looks archly up, and answers you: That "on the very homeliest face Can Fancy shed his brilliant hue, And in a tame expression trace A smile as soft as Heaven's own blue ! That he will seek through earth and air For charms to make divinely fair, And statue-like, a little creature Who has a twist in every feature; And deck her so (your pardon craving) That she might set ten poets raving."

IH]

HYMN

TO

SOUTH-WEST

THE WIND

Hail to thee, voyager of the Southern sea ! Freshly thou visitest my heated brow, While thy soft music, through the sheltering tree, Sounds with the motion of each laden bough. The flower-leaf's treasure to the languid bee Cannot be dearer than, sweet wind, art thou ; As thus upon my eyelids in the bliss Of calm repose, I feel thy gentle kiss. With what delicious fragrance from the sky, Moving the wavy clouds pavilioned there, The newly-moistened earth thou breathest nigh! Oh tenderly uplift the glossy hair Of Beauty listening to thy murmured sigh; Stir the thin locks of Age all silvery fair ; And stray, oh Child of Heaven, o'er the green land,— Burthened with sweetness, scattered by thy hand. Kind nature woos thee to her mild embrace ; The lofty forests and far sloping vales ; The shadowy outlines, in the distant space, Of mountains broad, where mortal vision fails; The sweeping stream, upon whose waters chase, Like sportive pinions, many graceful sails ; The very rocks that totter o'er the steep; All seem to feel thy breathings pure and deep. And living creatures, with a sudden thrill Of gladness, hear the rustling of thy wings, Among the leaves where rain-gems glitter still ; Aloft the deer his antlers proudly flings, While drops of clear delight his big eyes fill; A merry song the pensive blackbird sings, And homely kine forget the scented grass,— When, like a heavenly blessing, thou dost pass. [35]

Breathe on, thou gentle Spirit, linger y e t — Till melancholy twilight comes to steal Day's weary fervor—till some star has set Upon the scroll of heaven its brilliant seal— Till bending roses with night's tears are wet; Then, leave us, if thou must, when we can feel, Like thine own influence, on the unquiet breast The silent holiness of evening rest!

[56]

THE

INDIAN

SUMMER

A glimmering haze upon the landscape rests; The sky has on a softer robe of blue; And the slant sunbeams glisten mildly through The floating clouds, that lift their pearly crests Mid the pure currents of the upper air. The fields are dressed in Autumn's faded green, And trees no more their clustering foliage wear; Yet Nature smiles, all lovely and serene. How sweetly breathes this life-inspiring gale, Stirring yon silver lake's transparent wave ! Could we but dream that Winter, coldly pale, Might never o'er this scene of beauty rave, Or touch the waters with his icy spear,— Oh! would these golden hours be half so dear?

[ 3 7 ]

TO

MARY

I wish I had a casket, love, of jewels rich and rare, I ' d twine a wreath of diamonds 'mid the clusters of thy hair; And where thy soft and swanlike neck is kissed by floating curls, I ' d tie, to foil its purity, a string of orient pearls. The sapphire and the emerald, where rainbow beauty lingers, I ' d set in hoops of beamy gold to deck thy fairy fingers; And, on thy smoothly chiseled arm, j u s t o'er the snowy wrist, Should glitter, from its woven band, the rosy amethyst. But I'd choose of all my jewels, love, the richcst and the best, To gleam in solitary pride, upon thy virgin breast; And then around thy slender waist, I'd clasp the sparkling sheen Of gems, which might have glittered on the cestus of Love's queen. Yet, Mary, would thy clear blue eye, amid this wealth of light, Appear less mildly beautiful, or shine less purely bright? Oh no ! the ocean cavern and the undiscovered mine Contain no gem whose starry glance is lovelier than thine.

[M]

A P O E M ON MEDITATION

OP

THE NATURE

(Selections) How priceless is the lesson that we learn From Nature's bright, yet ever-varying page ! In youth's warm glow, when rays of promise burn, And in the frosty evening of old age, One joy abides within the fervent heart, Which only can with life and hope depart. It is to gaze on Nature, and to feel, Though time may on our pathway darkly steal And veil the firmanent with gathering shades, That her surpassing beauty never fades; That slow decay can never waste her forms Of stirring grandeur or serene repose:— Around her sweep the lightning-pinioned storms, Upon her bosom rest the glittering snows, Still she survives, and, undecaying, smiles; Her waters leap in gladness to the sea, Brighter than emeralds gleam her myriad isles, Along her shores, the soft gale wafted free, O'er the vast continent careering, flings Odor and freshness from its balmy wings ! Hence in youth's vigor and defenceless age, We read this lesson on her lustrous page ;— "The spirit that pervades us cannot die; The form it animates may coldly lie In the dark dwelling-place from whence it came ; The soul shall live eternally the same !" Life cannot pass away—the vernal bloom Will spread its beauty even o'er a tomb; The tree, once riven by the crushing storm, In greener robes may clothe its stately form ; The stream, released from Winter's icy chain,

[itoi

Will flash more joyously in Spring's mild reign ; And purer, clearer, seems the light that flows Where parted clouds the stainless heaven disclose— So, when this dull humanity decays, Bright and immortal is the spirit's blaze. This truth celestial will forever shine, To gild the waves of life's uncertain sea, An emanation from the source divine Where glory dwells—the shrine of Deity. Illumining creation, it will cheer Our young, unsullied morning with its light, And, when the shadows of past years appear, Extend along the dim, approaching night. Distrust and doubt and fear will never spread Their ill-foreboding shadows, to conceal The ray that time will on existence shed, I f , in the lesson Nature will reveal To such as love her truly, we can find Some glorious emblems of the deathless mind. * » « I breathe one name, because in yonder halls I t shed an early and a beauteous light, As softly sweet as that which sometimes falls On a white temple in a silvery night. H e worshipped Learning in her ancient forms, And steeped his mind in farthest classic lore; Study to him was like the sun that warms, And books the rays that did a lustre pour Into his being—but his lamp grew pale; For he did love old knowledge better f a r Than Nature's teachings—so his life did fail, As fails the glory of the morning star. Goldsborough ! I knew thee but a few, brief days, Yet knew full well thy worth above all praise.

[40]

T H E

D E P A R T E D

'Tis tweet to believe of the abient we love, If we mis* them below, we shall meet them above. ANON.

The d e p a r t e d ! the d e p a r t e d ! They visit us in dreams, And they glide above our memories Like shadows over streams— But where the cheerful lights of home In constant lustre burn, The departed—the departed ! Can never more return ! T h e good, the brave, the beautiful, How dreamless is their sleep Where rolls the dirge-like music Of the ever-tossing deep, Or where the hurrying night winds Pale winter's robes have spread Above their narrow palaces I n the cities of the dead. I look around and feel the awe Of one who walks alone Among the wrecks of former days, I n mournful ruin strown; I start to hear the stirring sounds Among the cypress trees, For the voice of the departed Is borne upon the breeze. T h a t solemn Each free I scarce can Will cheer

voice !—it mingles with and careless strain; think earth's minstrelsy my heart again.

i 41]

The melody of summer waves, The thrilling notes of birds, Can never be so dear to me As their remembered words. I sometimes dream their pleasant smiles Still on me sweetly f a l l ; Their tones of love I faintly hear My name in sadness call. I know that they are happy, With their angel plumage on, But my heart is very desolate, To think that they are gone. The departed ! the departed ! They visit us in dreams, And they glide above our memories Like shadows over streams. But where the cheerful lights of home In constant lustre burn— The departed—the departed Can never more return !

"ft.

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