| OCR Text |
Show j OUR. LITERARY TABLE THOUGHTS ON BRYANT. Well may our country pride in having nouristiod the poetical genius of William Cullen Uryant, yn must we own that the virgin soil of America wa'rf tb? only one suitable to a spirit so free and ur.tram-meled. utfier poetic spirits had sung of the bright, cloudless cloud-less skies of Italy, the castle-crowned banks of th Khine and the Alpine-shrined vales of Switzerland' Indeed, all the glories of the Old World had hln laid under tribute by the poets of America, but Er--ant. thrilled with the grandeur of his own na'iv forests, launched into the new and boundless sea oi American poetry. No formality mars the verse of Bryant. To him poetry and nature were so closely allle"d that po-try seemed but the outpouring of nature's heart. How beautifully he expressed this union: "Still came and lingered on my sight ( Of flowers and streams the bloom and light, L And glories of the stars and sun: I And these and poetry ure one." Though every wcrd tingles with feeling, rot s naturally does the sentiment seem to spring "from th thought that scarcely a passage can be selected which, can be called striking. How charming his description of Gren rivpr: "Its shadows are bright With colored pebbles and sparkles of liht. And clear the depths where Its eddies play And dimples deepen and whirl away." I In many of Bryant's works there is a tone of deep solemnity, as tn reverence to the Power Unfathomable, Unfathom-able, that rules over the ream of nature he so beautifully beau-tifully describes. Few in the deep solitude of a thriving forest would I be led to 'such solemn reflections as Bryant ex- presses: "AH that have borne the touch of death, All that shall live, lie mingled there Beneath that veil of bloom and breath." To all scenes of nature the poet's heart was open. The quiet, rolling prairies, where, ere Rome had begun be-gun her career of strife and crime, the painted warrior war-rior stood hot for battle: or the primeval forest where the young savage, arrow-laden, ranged in pursuit pur-suit of the game he hoped to las at th feet f hi3 forest queen: the dense wood which for ages had hen the haunt of the simple creatures of nature: the tranquil lake. the. rocky cliff; these were the scenes through which his spirit communed with nature'3 God; these the poet chose as the themes of his beautiful beau-tiful poems. We who live in the west appreciate his love for the Rockies, and echo his thought: "Thou who would see the lovely and the wild Mingled in harmony on Nature's face. Ascend our Rocky .mountains." Oreat as was his love of nature, it wa3 not in her regions alone that he delighted, for he found traces of the Author of the beautiful even In the city's throng: ",. "Not in the solitude Alone may man commune with heaven or see. 1 . Only in savage wood And sunny -vale, the present Deity." "Voices and footfalls of the numberless thron? -Like the resounding sea, Or, like the rainy tempest, speak of Thee.' It Is a remarkable feature of Bryant's career that N his best poetry was written while he was yet very i j young. At 19 he gave to the world his immortal poem, I .,' "Thanatopsis." the greatest monument of his f'-ime, and at 26 his longest poem. "The Ages." How solemnly beautiful his "Thanatopsis!" Thou?ri its weird pensiveness may make the reader "shudder and grow sick at heart." we cannot but be stirred by his unfailing confidence, which would bid us, at the summons of death,, go forth: "Not like the quarry slave at night, Scourged to hl3 dungeon, but, sustained and soothed ; By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him and lies down to pleasant dreams." On the twelfth day of his favorite month the soul ' of Bryant, like the beautiful butterfly brusting from : the chrysalis, broke Its bonds, and thus was realized ; the wishhe had long before expressed: i "I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains 'round, And thought that when I came to lie " c At rest within the ground 'Twere pleasant that in flowery June. When brooks send up a cheerful tune And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make. The rich green mountain turf should break." As in life he had lived near to Nature's heart, so in death he would have his tomb a haunt for the ob- :, jects of his love: ; "The oriole should build and tell His love-tale close beside my cell; The idle butterfly . ' Should rest him there, and there be heard j The housewife-bee and the humming bird." . " i EVA LAMOREAUX, '04. j . Sacred Heart Academy, Ogden. J i |
