What we read upon the surface would be vox et praeterea nihil
in default of the moral beneath. The Greek finales of "Blind
Bartimeus" are an affectation altogether inexcusable. What the
small, second-hand, Gibbonish pedantry of Byron introduced, is
unworthy the imitation of Longfellow.
Of the translations we scarcely think it necessary to speak at
all. We regret that our poet will persist in busying himself about
such matters. His time might be better employed in original
conception. Most of these versions are marked with the error upon
which we have commented. This error is, in fact, essentially Germanic.
"The Luck of Edenhall," however, is a truly beautiful poem; and we say
this with all that deference which the opinion of the "Democratic
Review" demands. This composition appears to us one of the very
finest. It has all the free, hearty, obvious movement of the true
ballad-legend. The greatest force of language is combined in it with
the richest imagination, acting in its most legitimate province.
Upon the whole, we prefer it even to the "Sword-Song" of Korner. The
pointed moral with which it terminates is so exceedingly natural- so
perfectly fluent from the incidents- that we have hardly heart to
pronounce it in ill-taste. We may observe of this ballad, in
conclusion, that its subject is more physical than is usual in
Germany.
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