Hearest thou voices on the shore,
That our ears perceive no more
Deafened by the cataract's roar?
And from the sky, serene and far
A voice fell like a falling star.
Some of these passages cannot be fully appreciated apart from the
context- but we address those who have read the book. Of the
translations we have not spoken. It is but right to say, however, that
"The Luck of Edenhall" is a far finer poem, in every respect than
any of the original pieces. Nor would we have our previous
observations misunderstood. Much as we admire the genius of Mr.
Longfellow, we are fully sensible of his many errors of affectation
and imitation. His artistical skill is great and his ideality high.
But his conception of the aims of poesy is all wrong, and this we
shall prove at some future day- to our own satisfaction, at least. His
didactics are all out of place. He has written brilliant poems- by
accident; that is to say when permitting his genius to get the
better of his conventional habit of thinking- a habit deduced from
German study. We do not mean to say that a didactic moral may not be
well made the under-current of a poetical thesis; but that it can
never be well put so obtrusively forth, as in the majority of his
compositions. There is a young American who, with ideality not
richer than that of Longfellow, and with less artistical knowledge,
has yet composed far truer poems, merely through the greater propriety
of his themes.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153