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Show WOMAN'S EXPONENT. 82 pure, the true, the beautiful and sublime?: Of guch a one, might we not say with Shakespeare." "Could I embody and unbosom now That which is mosrwithirt me could I wreak, JIy thoughts upon expression, and thus throw ' " " . , "'flic man that hath no music In himself, ; Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, ... Is fit for treasons, stratagems and- spjils. The motions of his spirit are dull as night " . And his affections dark as Erebus Let no such man be trusted." i -- of heaven itself." , 'm Thus it appears that poetry, so far from be-ing the trivial toy that some people suppose a soothiijcr natime ibiLchildren. or for love-sic' boys and girls is something of superior im- Trrf onrl na wnrtliir flif aitanln fV flio Tincn and serious,as of the gay and thoughtless among mankind. Indeed, if is one of those things wise can properly understand, which ohly-th- e and, as I have already stated, the reason why many people dislike poetry, is ' simply because they do not understand it. Poetry is that sentiment of the kouI, or faculty of the mind, which enables its possessor to appreciate and realize the heights and depths of human experience. It is: the power to feel pleasure or suffer pain", in all its exquisiteucss and intensity. All do not possess it in the same degree, nor can any one who is not totally depraved be utterly devoid of it. Nearly nil mpn an A wnmpn urn f a ctma nnt but very few of them can be called poets. There are great poets and small poets, and there are men and women who make Verses. But all are not poets, nor even good versifiers. Poetasters are plentiful, but real poets are very rare. Education cannot jnake a poet; although it may polish and develop one. The poet is a child of Nature, and, as the old proverb" says, "is born, not made." The greater the poet, the greater is hi3jcapacity to suffer and enjoy. This is why poets and other men and women of genius are often such violent extremists, with their lives and characters full of contrasts and All heights and 'apparent contradictions. of are feeling theirs; vast is their scope depths A. uuu uiui iviuuo iuwi ( laail.lbj' ill C HXZj either soaring like eagles in triumph among the clouds, or groveljng in despair in the depths ." of the abyss. .. The. poetic sentiment or faculty, I have said. is the power to feel intensely, either pleasure or pain. It does hot always find expression in words, inere arejoys that are mute; there are sorrows that never sigh or weep; but are eloquent in their stillness, and all the more powerful for their imprisonment. Many poets have never, written. . They may have felt the divine fire burning within them, every nerve and fibre of their sensitive natures thrilled with joy or shaken with agony, and yet were powerless to pour out upon the palpitating air the burden of the song that resounded li rniii itV all iYin crnnfniP xl mi kniuuj,u uu un, cctici, ravtnis ui mesoui. ine most eloquent poets, "whose words were sparks of immortality," have felt the painful inadequacy of language to illustrate their thoughts. uYtu xjjiuu ' uui uiuiu iqg overpowering of the grandeur Alps, whose towering top?, glistening: in Jtheirycapsjsf snow silvered by- - ' k i nri-ntivi- ! V ; .. ; 1 ttU.HU IUU lurid gleams and mutterings viiiwjr of the storm s swept with Titanic fingers the of harp-string- his soul: Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, Imtfall I seek, Dear, know, feelrand yet breathe -i- nto one word, that-onword were lightning, I would speak; as It is, I live and die" unheard, With a most voiceless 'thought, sheathing it as a sword." 1... e - who despise poetry and music, which are twin sisters: "Whoever find themselves wholly insensible to these- - charms, would, I thiuk,.xlo well to keepTFeir own counsel, for fear of reproaching their own' temper,' and bringing the goodness of their natures, if not of their understandings, into question. It may be thought at least an ill feign, if not an ill constitution; since some of the fathers went so faras to esteem the Jove of music a.sign of predestination; a3 a thing divine, and reserved for the felicities . ( - Sir William Temple wisely observe3,of those all the aesthetic rapture which insnires f Km while dtandiiig upon the. shore, letting imagination take a Tone voyage; but thee, I opine, are not vet as numerous posteritv-- ; I nm nn nitfed to waccr a laure. oranw thnf ,1 .. This, from one who could create, by the magic wand of eloquence and imagination, new worlds of light, and "people them with beings bright as their own beam," who could "with terror freeze the cowering blood! or "now dissolve the heart in tenderness;" who "from above descending stooped to touch the loftiest thought, and proudly stooped, as though it scarce deserved his verse." In the same breath which bewails' his poverty of expression, h thus addresses himself to the stars: . .1 iTiif "I in' enrtrr mi inn cna the time snugly ensconced in an attic, and that even the sublime oceanic rhapsodies of the im- oi oecuiar mortal iyron wwre muu: ui sensation. A nian may "lav than of tangible ocean's mane' with comparathe hand his upon tive comfoit, but when the ocean takes it into the compliment, the his hoary head Jo ic-ou- " n j-etur- morn tliftll lillhlifi tr n ramrr?A I.have quoted '"."liberally from. Byron, not only because l.greitly admire his genius, but because he is typiealy ih some respects, of all Not to surfeit von. with his inoetrv' unr. n(if-tt " , j j one more brief, selection, on the hiit me e imiif ictnu i f . . " to-giv- vanity of human ambition: " . . " ascends to mountain tops shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Miiit look down On (he hate of those below, Though high above the sun of glory glow, An d fa r be neat irtTuTearlh and oc can spread, Round liiin are icy rocks'and loudly blow 'Contending- tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which tcthose summits lcd " "Ile'-w-h- "Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! Jf in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires 'tis to be forgiven, , That in our aspirations to be great, ' Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,-And claim a kindred with you; for ye are ; A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, powerlife, have named themselves - .; .' v star." Few men have realized more fully' the melau: cholly truth of these majestic words than the is familiar with- Byron's apostrophe to the ocean: . Every school-bo- y ...:a l.,..v, ....,,1 tiiciu. .uuiui uy iicuvt u vit.il ptuucu all a poet'sgenius, ami with all a p jet's sensi- - tlXt't.'A 1... unu wuu ' l.-r- - "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods., h There a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes," By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but nature more, . From these our interviews in which I steal From all 1 may be, .or have been before, To mingle with the universe and feci What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.- i .. i v 1 hatred of is (i h w i ii w"! tho.5e whom ill iiifMir rrir u a j nature and nature's God had made his inferiors. His sins were many. and they merited punishment, but his great "crimes," for which he was hated most, were in being gifted above his fellows, and haying Xhc temerity to tell more truth concerning. them than they desired to .hear. He was harshly, unreasonably' criticised on the very threshold of his career; and later in life" Was" covered "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue. ocean--rol- l. with calumny aiul opprobrium..- His soul, like Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain: ' a finely strung harp, swept by savage hands, Man marks the earth with ruin his control ' ,. , cried out in resentment against the outrage Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain ' and poured lorlhn mingled torrent or discord The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain and keen as the A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, ?. melody. His satire was arrows of Apollo; his mvec'tivc as terribleTas When, for a moment, like a drop, of rain,"" "V the thundeis of Jove: and upon the heads of lie sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, his traducers, he poured out the vials of his Without a grave,' unknelled, uncoffined and- unknown." .. wrath unsparingly. I am not an apologist for . "Thy shores are empires, changed in all save the e the sins of Byron; I am simply calling attention Assyria, Greece, Rome,' Carthage, what are they? : .. to facts that may -- plead in extenuation of his Thy waters wasted them, while they were free,"" faults; and which i'umish a reason for the ex; And many a tyrant since; their shores obey tremes of good 4tnd evil to be found in his The stranger, slave or savage; their decay poetry . Byron might have bexn very different : Has dried up realms to deserts; not so thou, with other circumsta:uees, other treatment and Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play; surroundings. It was the stormy experience Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; of his life, which moulded the character of Such ascreation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 'much of his poetry. His soul responded to "Thou glorious mirror, where .the Almighty's form every touch, gentle or ha;h, that came upon Glasses itself in tempests; in ail time it; it wa3 a mirror throwing back the smiles Calm "or convulsed in breeze; or gale or storm, and frowns of all beholders; a clear, calm lake, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime sleeping peacefully in the sunlight, but rippled Dark heaving; boundless, endless and sublime, by the faintest breeze, and capable of reflectThe image ot Eternity the throne ing all the .terrors of the storm. Byrori, like Of the invisible; even from out thy slime all true poels, simply poured out what he ' The monsters of the deep are made; each zone 7 .... cup of sweetness mingled with wormwood, Obeys thee; thou'goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. wdiich he quaffed and held to the Hps of others, 'was made up of his own joys and sorrows, coni "And I have loved thee, ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports w as on thy breast to be pounded by his own "genius in the crucible oi : ' his own brain. ' Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy " I wantoned with thy b'reakexs--thcto me '" Thus is this poet a type, in many respects, of - Were a delight; and if the freshening sea ' all chiJdiea of genius. They who express Made them a terror 'twas a pleasing fear, most' must likewise feel most, both of pleasure For I was as it were a child of thee, and pain; and this it is which creates for genius And trusted to thy billows far and nsar, its dual destiny its laurel wreath of bliss with And laid my hand upon thy mane as I do here." misery interwoven its couch of roses with its nillow of thorns. It is one thinsr to sip the omehow I have, that poemr sweets of poesy, and another thing to provide of this kind were not written while on the them for the world s delectation, ihat wnitn bosom ofjthe heaving wave. There anFtfoubt gives us so much pleasure to hear may have less some people of soul cast-iron and soaring cost its author untold toil and pain. diaphragm who can "sail the ocean blue" with I will now present a few selections ironi - . - .... . . ' , ieii-Th- . ; y : always-suspecte- d e |