Part 4

SARAH, my much-lov'd grandchild, thou dost bear An ancient name of honor; on this day, Which marks just sixteen years, quick fled away Since first thou didst draw in the vital air; No greeting need I give thee, but my prayer, Utter'd with all the fervency I may, That of her "faith in God" the pow'rful sway, Like ancient Sarah, thou wilt keep with care. So shall thy future years, of unknown count, Be years of honor, usefulness, and joy, For thou wilt drink at Christian joy's pure fount, And hopes, like these, will thy best thoughts employ―― 'A glad exchange to me will sure be given,―― For death new life, for earth a glorious heaven!'

92. TO MRS. DOUGLASS, IN JAIL.

Lady, who late didst teach the blinded slave, And hidden truth didst open to his sight, God's minister of his own heav'nly light,―― I honor thee, most noble, good, and brave. Let despots of the "Old Dominion" rave, And for this, in their chivalry and might, A woman shut in prison! This poor spite From dark forgetfulness thy name shall save. So Galileo was in dungeon deep By bigots thrust, because he dar'd to say, Our system's centre is the orb of day, And earth revolves by laws that never sleep. Though him they silenc'd, still the earth turns round: Though thee they bind, God's light shall not be bound!

93. "READY FOR EITHER."

Fit emblem of Christ's servant,――him whose love Has borne him to his distant heathen field, Which, if not by him reach'd, can nothing yield But crimes, that shut men out from heav'n above: There, heedless of fatigue, his footsteps move In ceaseless toil; nor from his view conceal'd Lies hid the peril, when God's truth reveal'd The worshipper is sham'd in idol's grove. Brave man! toil on; thou shalt not toil in vain: Thy master's promise trust; the good seed sow; A glorious harvest thou wilt help to gain. And should the madmen's dagger lay thee low, Yet from thy outpour'd blood may spring the truth, Life's nutriment to Old men and to Youth!

94. TO MISS HANNAH LYMAN, MONTREAL.

I owe thee many thanks, my distant friend, That on the broad Canadian river's shore Thy home being gain'd with joyfulness once more Thou didst remember me, and to me send These clust'ring Grapes, which now on me attend To soothe a sick man's taste. From God's rich store They came,――from where the northern tempests roar,―― His bounty wide, his mercy without end! They speak to faith of greater sweetness far Denoted by the wine that Jesus gave, The Son of God, who came from heav'n to save,―― The Blood of Him, the framer of each star, Which purchases our life, salvation free, High glory, honor, immortality!

95. VISIT TO PONTOOSUC OR PITTSFIELD.

PITTSFIELD, so nam'd from British statesman bold, Who dar'd command the struggles of the free, What time men forg'd the chains for liberty; How dear art thou to my pain'd vision old? And many a scene now past dost thou unfold, And many a wither'd joy, as well might be, For years have fall'n, as leaves from autumn tree, Since first thy light I saw and bliss untold. Swift as the shadow of a flying cloud All earthly good departs; but as a rock, Which heeds not ocean's waves nor tempest loud, My faith in Jesus, Savior, bides the shock:―― The same I held, when first in early youth I here proclaim'd the heav'n-descended truth.

96. COMPANY OF OLD MEN.

"Hail, OLD MEN! Quite a goodly Company!"―― True, we are old; this day assembled here In this new mansion to partake this cheer, Of ancient friend to wake the memory.―― Though old, yet have we undimm'd eyes to see And ears that fail not yet the truths to hear, Once taught by our deceased pastor dear, Which some in life's fair morn cannot descry, Sin's thick, delusive veil spread o'er their sight. We see time's speed, and death to be no cheat; To us the Sun of Righteousness shines bright, And bright yon heav'ns, up where we hope to meet. We see the worth of Truth, of Faith, of Love,―― Our certain guides to ENDLESS LIFE above.

97. JOY IN A DYING HOUR.

To change for good alone my mingled state In this brief life, and what I have to hold By God's firm word while endless years unfold,―― This wakens joy; and this will be my fate, When soon shall come my final, worldly date.―― Now hear I this――"O, chosen one, behold Wonders of love divine, by Christ unroll'd;―― Come, share our bliss unmeasurably great!"―― Not one is toss'd by tempest, all at rest;―― Not one is conscience-smitten of the throng;―― Not one a suff'rer, all I see are blest;―― All know God's truth, all lift th' eternal song.―― Thus hearing calls from ev'ry heav'nly voice―― These scenes in vision――DYING I REJOICE!

98. NIAGARA FALLS.

Great are the works of God, which meet our sight. Proud, sinful man! thyself above all fear Of him who made the earth, come, stand but here, And here be taught his majesty and might. This stream from western lakes how broad and bright? But now its waves in froth and rage appear, And as they plunge down deep, their voice we hear, Like thunders bursting from the clouds of night. This river from his hand doth God outpour: Then say, O sinner! hast thou naught to dread From Majesty Divine, whom thou each hour Dost treat with scorn, though soon to join the dead? Pause in thy guilty path:――consider well―― God's wrathful flood may plunge thee down to hell!

99. JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH.

How can a sinning man with God be just? This grand inquiry all men need to make, For all are guilty; and they well may quake For flagrant evil deeds or secret lust, For which God's law smites down their prideful trust. Ye sleepers on the brink of woe! awake And to the Gospel listen:――that can break The fetters binding all the lost unjust. Justice and love in wonderful display, Mercy and truth in union sweet combine, And shine forth glorious in the scheme divine. The word reveal'd unfolds to us the way, By which we, sinners, can be just with God;―― It is by FAITH in Christ's atoning blood.

100. TRIUMPH OF THE GOSPEL.

O, blessed day, when through the world below JESUS shall reign the prince of love and peace, For then shall men their angry contests cease, And never more appear in hostile show;―― The sword transform'd into th' unbloody plow And spear to pruning hook for thriving trees. The kid lies down with leopard at his ease, And grizzly bear feeds harmless with the cow. The wolf and lamb together peaceful dwell, The calf with the young lion too are led By hand of little child. Ah, who can tell How chang'd the scene, when, fiery passions fled, No stain is seen on human hand of blood, But all men live in holy Brotherhood?

REMARKS ON THE NATURE AND HISTORY OF THE SONNET.

In the judgment of some of the greatest poets and literary men the _Sonnet_ is a form of poetry of very high value; in its structure a precious gem. It is of Italian origin and was invented by _Petrarch_ in the 14th century. In his retreat at Vaucluse near Avignon he wrote the greater part of his sonnets, all devoted to the idolatry of woman――to the praise of Laura: 227 of them were written while she was living; and he continued to extol her in 90 sonnets after her death.

The laws of the sonnet are these. It has one leading subject and should end with some striking thought, or must bring to a beautiful conclusion or point the images and musings of the first lines and greater part of the poem. It has always 14 lines, falling into two unequal lobes, one of two quatrains, the other of two triplets; or in other words it is composed of four stanzas, the two first of four lines each and the two last of three lines each. Then as to the rhymes,――the first eight lines have only two rhymes, and they always in the same place,――the first, fourth, fifth and eighth lines rhyming; so also the other four. The last six lines admit of a little change, and may have either two or three rhymes; usually the four first lines have alternate rhymes, and the two last are a couplet; but even in this case the triplet form is to be preserved.

The distinction of the stanzas is made, not by a separation from each other by wider spaces, but while printed compactly by the lines 1, 5, 9, and 12, projecting to the left; as in Milton's sonnets and in the Venice edition of Petrarch in 1764. Various poets however have unwisely disregarded this rule: and have variously placed their rhymes and their lines at their pleasure. Campbell has translated a few of Petrarch's sonnets, reducing the 14 lines to 12, composed of three similar quatrains, the first and last lines of which rhyme together. But this is destroying the Sonnet.

Our admiration of Petrarch should perhaps be a little moderated; for he is full of affected turns and paradoxes and smart antitheses. Speaking of love he says, "O viva morte, O dilettoso male,"――O living death, O most beloved evil! Speaking also of its effect he says in four lines of rhyme, which may be thus translated――without rhyme――

"I find no peace, and am not the subject of war; I fear, and hope, and also burn, and freeze; I fly above the heavens, and walk on the earth; I grasp nothing, and hold the universe in my arms."

Addressing a river, in which Laura washed her face, he says,

"Thou hast no rock beneath thy waves, which does not burn with the same fires, that are kindled in me." He also said, "O earth, thou art not worthy to be trodden by her feet. She deserves to adorn heaven!"

His curious stanza repeating the word _dolce_, sweet, 9 or 10 times may be thus translated:

"Sweet sorrow, and sweet joy, and then sweet pain, Sweet torture, zephyr, fire, and next sweet wounds; Sweet word, which in my ear most sweetly sounds, Sweet anger, and sweet rage, and sweet disdain."

The sonnet in the use of Petrarch did not attain its highest dignity, for it was wholly appropriated to the praise of Laura, his love for whom whether real or fictitious has not yet been settled by the literary world. He died in 1374, aged 70.――The eminent English poet Spenser followed him after an interval of more than 200 years dying in 1598: he published 87 sonnets. Then Shakespeare, who died in 1616, published 154 sonnets; all of which by these two poets are devoted to love, but with a change of the Italian rhyme and form.

The following shows the sonnet's structure by _Spenser_.

"Men call you fair, and you do credit it, For that your self ye daily such do see, But the true fair, that is, the gentle wit And virtuous mind is much more prais'd of me; For all the rest, however fair it be, Shall turn to naught, and lose that glorious hue; But only that is permanent and free From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensew: That is true beauty; that doth argue you To be divine, and born of heav'nly seed, Deriv'd from that fair Spirit from whom all true And perfect beauty did at first proceed: He only fair, and what he fair hath made; All other fair, like flow'rs, untimely fade."

It will be observed, that the last couplet is always a rhyme, which is not the fixed rule of Petrarch; and then he has changed the places of the rhymes and confused them by abolishing the stanzas.

The following is a sonnet of _Shakespeare_.

"O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odor which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye, As the perfumed tincture of the roses; Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly, When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: But for their virtue only is their show; They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade; Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made: And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth; When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth."

Here also is an injurious change in the sonnet of Petrarch: the last couplet is always a rhyme, and it is separated in print from the 12 lines, which are very simple, composing three stanzas of distinct, alternate rhymes, much easier to compose than Spenser's or the Italian.

_Milton_ wrote 5 sonnets in Italian, which were translated by Cowper. In them he followed Petrarch in his subject. It was in his 18 English sonnets, that he has given to this form of poetry its true elevation and dignity. Instead of applying it, like his predecessors, to love meditations, expressive of fictitious or real affection, he made it the instrument of conveying most important moral, patriotic, and religious sentiments.

The following is a sonnet of Milton, who died in 1675. It was addressed to

A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

"Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labor up the hill of heav'nly truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth Chosen thou hast; and they, that overween, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends To fill thy od'rous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure."

It will be seen, that he combined with his rhymes much of the freedom and force of blank verse. He never allows the absence of good strong sense nor the presence of unmeaning or useless words in order to make out the rhyme.

By printing his sonnets compactly without separating the stanzas from each other Milton carried on his sentences, as he found desirable, from stanza to stanza, frequently without any close at the end of a stanza, sometimes just beginning near the end. In this case the separation of the stanzas by spaces would evidently be absurd. Read the last five lines of his sonnet to Cromwell:――

"Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war: new foes arise Threat'ning to bind our souls with sec'lar chains.―― Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw."

Here, in the method of separating the stanzas by wider spaces in printing, the phrase "new foes arise" would have been separated from the line which follows, with which it is so intimately connected,――the head line of the last triplet.

The author may here be allowed to say, that in his judgment in the whole compass of English poetry there are no sonnets equal to a few of Milton's, numbered 8, 9, 14, 15, 18, 19, 22 and 23. If any one would know, whether Milton's meditations brought out sentiments worthy of utterance, and whether he knew how to utter them with the melody of rhyme and at the same time with the unshackled freedom and energy of blank verse, I leave with him for his refreshment the following lines from his sonnet on his own Blindness:――

"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve, who only stand and wait."

More recently _Wordsworth_, who died in 1850, aged 80, has followed Milton in his application of this form of poetry to higher subjects than that to which it was applied by Petrarch. A very great fault however is his abolishing Milton's method of designating the stanzas and thus showing the places of the rhymes, the pleasures of which are gone if their places are not easily found. He wrote 282 sonnets: he wrote too many; and they are often diffuse and languid. The following is one of his sonnets: it is on the Pastoral Character.

"A genial hearth, a hospitable board, And a refined rusticity belong To the neat mansion, where, his Flock among, The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord. Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword, Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong To human kind; though peace be on his tongue, Gentleness in his heart; can earth afford Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free, As when, array'd in Christ's authority, He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand; Conjures, implores, and labors all he can For re-subjecting to divine command The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?"

The readers of poetry ought to feel much indebted to Mr. Wordsworth for his remarks in regard to the language of poetry, and in regard to the value of enkindled emotions. In his judgment, there ought not to be a distinct poetic diction, separate from the language of good prose; the poet should aim at good sense and intelligible diction, using the language of men, abandoning "a large portion of phrases and figures of speech, which from father to son have long been regarded as the common inheritance of poets," and even abstaining from many good expressions, which bad poets have so foolishly and perpetually repeated, as to render them disgusting. As illustrating his meaning, he quotes from a sonnet of _Gray_;――

"In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phœbus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descants join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears, alas! for other notes repine."

Here this false diction destroys the value of every line.

The other remark of Mr. Wordsworth is this;――"all good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of good feelings." Perhaps it might be also said, that in addition to sensibility and impassioned expression there should be chosen, for the highest poetry, subjects of moral dignity and religious interest, having a close bearing on human welfare not only for a moment but for perpetuity.

NOTES.

_Sonnet 1._ The name of WASHINGTON is in the heart of all Americans. Fifty years ago, that is in 1809, in the first edition of the American Biographical Dictionary, I devoted nearly 20 pages to a memoir of Washington. It may be a convenience to the reader of this little book to have here collected the dates as to the leading events of his life.――He was born at Bridges Creek, Westmoreland county, Virginia, Feb. 22, 1732; and died suddenly, after an illness of one day by an inflammation of the windpipe, Dec. 14, 1799, nearly 68 years old. He was in early life a major and colonel of the Virginia troops employed against the French on the Ohio in 1754 and 1755; and was subsequently commander in chief. About 1758 he married Mrs. Custis, a wealthy widow, whom he greatly loved. As a planter he had 9,000 acres of land under his management, and nearly 1,000 slaves in his employment, living at Mount Vernon, which was the estate of his deceased older brother Lawrence: his father's name was Augustine: his great grandfather came from the north of England about 1657.――He was appointed by congress commander in chief at the commencement of the war in 1775; and at the close resigned his commission Dec. 1783.

In 1789 he was chosen the first president of the United States for 4 years and then re-chosen, continuing in office till 1797, when he was succeeded by John Adams. By his last will he directed, that on the death of Mrs. Washington (who died May 22, 1802,) his slaves should be emancipated. As the ladies of Virginia, with the aid of ladies of other States, have purchased Mount Vernon in reverence to the name of Washington, will they not honor him if they manage it without obtruding upon it any slave labor?――Gen. Washington was a constant attendant on public worship in an episcopal church, which he principally supported. It is believed, that he every day had his hour of retirement for private devotion.

_Sonnet 2._ In looking from my eastern window a few evenings since (Dec. 12th,) I was struck with the magnificent appearance of the heavens,――the moon just rising in full effulgence, preceded a few degrees by the splendid planet Jupiter, while still higher and more at the south was the unequalled constellation Orion, with an uncounted multitude of stars planted thick in the sky. Jupiter is 1400 times larger than the earth, being 90,000 miles in diameter: he revolves on his axis in ten hours, so that a body on his surface flies around at the rate of 27,000 miles per hour, or 27 times faster than a body on the earth. It has four satellites. Can it be imagined, that this huge planet is not furnished with rational inhabitants, like this diminutive earth? And what reason can be assigned why all the planets and all the stars should not be inhabited by rational beings? Who can fix the limits to God's creation? As light flies 192,000 miles every second, who can say, that the light from the most distant star has yet reached the earth since the star was created? With what reverence and awe, with what love and trust and spirit of obedience should Almighty God, the Creator of the universe, be regarded?

_Sonnet 3._ Wm. H. Prescott, the distinguished historian, died at Boston of the paralysis after a few hours' illness Jan. 28, 1859, aged 62 years. Knowing that he was about to die, it was his remarkable request, that in his coffin he might lie for a time with his face uncovered in his library, surrounded by his cherished Books. From his library he was carried to his grave Jan. 31st. The next evening the Historical Society of Massachusetts held a meeting in honor of his memory. Mr. Winthrop, the president, Mr. Ticknor who introduced some resolutions, and others made speeches on the occasion, which were published. As a humble associate member of the society I would not neglect to mention the following apposite and interesting fact, that _Petrarch_, the inventor of the Italian _sonetto_, was found dead in his library with his head _resting on a book_. He died of apoplexy July 18, 1374, aged 74.――Milton's memorable words in relation to books ought never to be forgotten:――"Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but _a good book_ is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, imbalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life."――But the book of books is God's Book, which infinitely transcends all others in value, except as they borrow truth from its pages, for it reveals to man his pathway to a blessed immortality. Never should the words of Mr. Chillingworth be forgotten: "The BIBLE, I say, the BIBLE only is the Religion of Protestants."

_Sonnet 4._ In the city of Paris, ten years ago, I was one of a large company of hundreds of the Friends of Peace from different nations. We presented to the Emperor,――then only a President,――an Address against War. In the present year by his inroad into Italy and conflict with Austria he has fixed upon his soul the unmeasurable guilt of several tens of thousands of murders.