Poets of the South Part 16

LYRIC OF ACTION [17]

'Tis the part of a coward to brood O'er the past that is withered and dead: What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust?

What though the heart's music be fled?

Still shine the grand heavens o'erhead, Whence the voice of an angel thrills clear on the soul, "Gird about thee thine armor, press on to the goal!"

If the faults or the crimes of thy youth Are a burden too heavy to bear, What hope can re-bloom on the desolate waste Of a jealous and craven despair?

Down, down with the fetters of fear!

In the strength of thy valor and manhood arise, With the faith that illumes and the will that defies.

"_Too late!_" through G.o.d's infinite world, From his throne to life's nethermost fires, "_Too late!_" is a phantom that flies at the dawn Of the soul that repents and aspires.

If pure thou hast made thy desires, There's no height the strong wings of immortals may gain Which in striving to reach thou shalt strive for in vain.

Then, up to the contest with fate, Unbound by the past, which is dead!

What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust?

What though the heart's music be fled?

Still shine the fair heavens o'erhead; And sublime as the seraph [18] who rules in the sun Beams the promise of joy when the conflict is won!

For a general introduction to the following poems, see Chapter III. The selections are intended to exhibit the poet's various moods and themes.

[Footnote 1: This poem, which appeared in the volume of 1855 under the t.i.tle _Aspirations_, gives expression to a strong literary impulse.

It was genuine in sentiment, and its aspiring spirit and forceful utterance gave promise of no ordinary achievement.]

[Footnote 2: An act or formula supposed to exert a magical influence or power.

"Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm Of woven paces and of waving hands."

--Tennyson's _Merlin and Vivien_.

Compare the first scene in _Faust_ where the Earth-spirit comes in obedience to a "conquering spell."]

[Footnote 3: Tantalus was a character of Greek mythology, who, for divulging the secret counsels of Zeus, was afflicted in the lower world with an insatiable thirst. He stood up to the chin in a lake, the waters of which receded whenever he tried to drink of them.]

[Footnote 4: The poet evidently had in mind the lame man who was "laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful."--_Acts_ iii. 2.]

[Footnote 5: A reference to the veil that hung before the Most Holy Place, or "inmost shrine," of the temple. Compare _Exodus_ xxvi. 33.]

[Footnote 6: This sonnet, which appeared in the volume of 1859, reveals the retiring, meditative temper of the poet. To him quiet reflection was more than action. He loved to dwell in spirit with the good and great of the past. The rude struggles of the market-place for wealth and power were repugnant to his refined and sensitive nature.]

[Footnote 7: Something served for the refreshment of a person; here an intellectual feast fit for a prince.]

[Footnote 8: Arcady, or Arcadia, is a place of ideal simplicity and contentment; so called from a picturesque district in Greece, which was noted for the simplicity and happiness of its people.]

[Footnote 9: This poem will serve to ill.u.s.trate Hayne's skill in the use of blank verse. It is a piece of rare excellence and beauty. The name of the heroine is p.r.o.nounced _Ee-thra_.]

[Footnote 10: This migration occurred about 708 B.C.]

[Footnote 11: Apollo was one of the major deities of Grecian mythology.

He was regarded, among other things, as the G.o.d of song or minstrelsy, and also as the G.o.d of prophetic inspiration. The most celebrated oracle of Apollo was at Delphi.]

[Footnote 12: A town in southern Italy, now Taranto. It was in ancient times a place of great commercial importance.]

[Footnote 13: For the occasion of this poem, see page 61. The poet had a peculiar fondness for the pine, which in one of his poems he calls--

"My sylvan darling! set 'twixt shade and sheen, Soft as a maid, yet stately as a queen!"

It is the subject of a half-dozen poems,--_The Voice of the Pines, Aspect of the Pines, In the Pine Barrens, The Dryad of the Pine, The Pine's Mystery_, and _The Axe and the Pine_,--all of them in his happiest vein.]

[Footnote 14: In _The Pine's Mystery_ we read:--

"Pa.s.sion and mystery murmur through the leaves, Pa.s.sion and mystery, touched by deathless pain, Whose monotone of long, low anguish grieves For something lost that shall not live again."]

[Footnote 15: Hayne's very careful workmanship is rarely at fault; but here there seems to be an infelicitous epithet that amounts to a sort of tautology. "Eyes ablaze" would necessarily "look forth with _burning gaze_."]

[Footnote 16: This poem ill.u.s.trates the poet's method of dealing with Nature. He depicts its beauty as discerned by the artistic imagination.

He is less concerned with the messages of Nature than with its lovely forms. This poem, in its felicitous word-painting, reminds us of Tennyson, though it would be difficult to find in the English poet so brilliant a succession of masterly descriptions.

With this poem may be compared Hayne's _Cloud Fantasies_, a sonnet that brings before us, with great vividness, the somber appearance of the clouds in autumn. See also _A Phantom in the Clouds_. No other of our poets has dwelt so frequently and so delightfully on the changing aspects of the sky.

Compare Sh.e.l.ley's _The Cloud_.]

[Footnote 17: It is not often that Hayne a.s.sumed the hortatory tone found in this poem. In artistic temperament he was akin to Keats rather than to Longfellow. Even in his didactic poems, he is meditative and descriptive rather than hortatory. The artist in him hardly ever gave place to the preacher.]

[Footnote 18: The seraph's name was Uriel, that is, G.o.d's Light. In _Revelation_ (xix. 17) we read, "And I saw an angel standing in the sun." Milton calls him--

"The Archangel Uriel--one of the seven Who in G.o.d's presence, nearest to his throne, Stand ready at command."

--_Paradise Lost_, Book III, 648-650.]

SELECTIONS FROM HARRY TIMROD

TOO LONG, O SPIRIT OF STORM [1]

Too long, O Spirit of storm, Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath!

I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky, And the moveless sea beneath.

Come down in thy strength on the deep!

Worse dangers there are in life, When the waves are still, and the skies look fair, Than in their wildest strife.

A friend I knew, whose days Were as calm as this sky overhead; But one blue morn that was fairest of all, The heart in his bosom fell dead.

And they thought him alive while he walked The streets that he walked in youth-- Ah! little they guessed the seeming man Was a soulless corpse in sooth.

Come down in thy strength, O Storm!

And lash the deep till it raves!