And is there no hope? Time will show.
We cannot do everything in a day- Non se gano Zonora en un ora. Again,
it cannot be gainsaid that the greater number of those who hold high
places in our poetical literature are absolute nincompoops- fellows
alike innocent of reason and of rhyme. But neither are we all
brainless, nor is the devil himself so black as he is painted. Mr.
Wilmer must read the chapter in Rabelais's "Gargantua," "de ce
qu'est signifie par les couleurs blanc et bleu,"- for there is some
difference after all. It will not do in a civilized land to run a-muck
like a Malay. Mr. Morris has written good songs. Mr. Bryant is not all
a fool. Mr. Willis is not quite an ass. Mr. Longfellow will steal,
but, perhaps, he cannot help it (for we have heard of such things),
and then it must not be denied that nil tetigit quod non ornavit.
The fact is that our author, in the rank exuberance of his zeal,
seems to think as little of discrimination as the Bishop of Autun* did
of the Bible. Poetical "things in general" are the windmills at
which he spurs his Rozinante. He as often tilts at what is true as
at what is false; and thus his lines are like the mirrors of the
temples of Smyrna, which represent the fairest images as deformed. But
the talent, the fearlessness, and especially the design of this
book, will suffice to preserve it from that dreadful damnation of
"silent contempt," to which editors throughout the country, if we
are not much mistaken, will endeavour, one and all to consign it.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138