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chee, whether, is equal, in the sum of the times of its syllables, to the iambus, thou choose, in the sum of the times of its syllables: each foot being, in time, equal to three short syllables. Good versifiers who happen to be, also, good poets, contrive to relieve the monotone of a series of feet, by the use of equivalent feet only at rare intervals, and at such points of their subject as seem in accordance with the startling character of the variation. Nothing of this care is seen in the line quoted abovealthough Pope has some fine instances of the duplicate effect. Where vehemence is to be strongly expressed, I am not sure that we should be wrong in venturing on two consecutive equivalent feet-although I cannot say that I have ever known the adventure made, except in the following passage, which occurs in “ Al Aaraaf," a boyish poem, writ ten by myself when a boy. I am referring to the sudden and rapid advent of a star:

Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes
Alone could see the phantom in the skies,
When first the phantom's course was found to be
Headlong hither ward o'er the starry sea.

In the "general proposition" above, I speak of the occasional introduction of equivalent feet. It sometimes happens that unskilful versifiers, without knowing what they do, or why they do it, introduce so many "variations" as to exceed in number the "distinctive" feet; when the ear becomes at once baulked by the bouleversement of the rhythm. Too many trochees, for example, inserted in an iambic rhythm, would convert the latter to a trochaic. I may note here, that, in all cases, the rhythm designed should be commenced and continued, without variation, until the ear has had full time to comprehend what is the rhythm. In violation of a rule so obviously founded in common sense, many even of our best poets, do not scruple to begin an iambic rhythm with a trochee, or the converse; or a dactylic with an anapæst, or the converse; and so on.

A somewhat less objectionable error, although still a decided one, is that of commencing a rhythm, not with a different equivalent foot, but with a "bastard" foot of the rhythm intended. For example:

Many ǎ thought will come to měmŏry. |

Here many a is what I have explained to be a bas tard trochee, and to be understood should be ac cented with inverted crescents. It is objectionable solely on account of its position as the opening foot of a trochaic rhythm. Memory, similarly accented, is also a bastard trochee, but unobjectionable, although by no means demanded.

The farther illustration of this point will enable me to take an important step.

(To be continued.)

VOL. XIV-74

THE KNIGHT OF BLASINGAME.

A BALLAD.

BY W. C. RICHARDSON, OF ALABAMA.

I.

The blast was loud in Vandamere,
And loud on Gamalyn,

And faring men grew white with fear,
To hear the hellish din!

II.

The living dreamed-the dead did walk,
And sleepers groaned aloud,
And quaked to think of their ancestors
In a dark and bloody shroud!

III.

The storm like a wild night-mare came down,
And plagued the yeasty main,
The lightning drew his keenest blade,
And sliced the sky in twain,
And I never care by night or day,
To hear such sounds again!

IV.

No mortal wight could rove that night'Twas the wind that fooled mine ear; But a helm shone bright

In the white moon-light,

And a tramping sounded near !

V.

And a gay knight on a white, white barb
Flew past me like a dream-

He scaled the height of the mountain side,
And swam the spouting stream!

VI.

And the dark, foul fiends shall give him way;
For he chants a holy song,

Or winds, like a sturdy traveller,
His bugle, loud and long.

VII.

Oh! whither, whither, my bold rider!
Oh! whither away so fast?
From the Tagus came that creamy steed-
His sire was sure the blast!

VIII.

Will you ride that torrent over the crag,
Or will you ride your steed?
Your barb is soother than it, I wis,
In whiteness and in speed!

IX.

Over dale, over down, over moss, over moor--Away like the hurricane!

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XXXVIII.

There be green lizards in his mouth,
And crickets in his ear!

And hop-hop-hop! the speckled toad
Hops over his pride I fear!

XXXIX.

"T was a ghastly toast the vultures drank All out of those bonny, blue eyes! 'Twas a ghastly rout, as they swaggered about, Beneath the blessed skies!

XL.

Little recked they of his bright lady!

Littled récked they of her moan!
They clapped their wings with a dusky glee,
And pealed the pearly bone-

Ho! ho! they cried with a dismal glee,
And peeled the dainty bone!

JOHN STERLING.*

BY H. T. TUCKERMAN.

There is an affecting charm in the incomplete, whether in destiny or character, especially when their elements have been active and intense. As a lyrical effusion will sometimes give us a deeper glimpse into the poet's heart than a finished epic, so the desultory and casual overflowings of a mind striving for harmony-the suggestive eloquence which gives the idea of a latent world of unexpressed emotion,-awakens both imagination and sympathy far more than utterances comparatively full and satisfactory.

To possess at once keen insight and imperative sympathies-is to be liable to extreme mental suffering for which we can imagine no consolation but a high and serene faith. The ability to discern things in their actual relations, to pierce the rind of the conventional and draw near the heart of nature, may be enjoyed merely as a scientific pastime; but when "the strong necessity of loving" is united to such clear perceptions, the mind and the heart are exposed to severe and incessant conflict; and to reconcile them is the grand problem of life. This appears to have been the case with Sterling. He had the intense spirit for truth which belongs to the philosopher, and the enthusiasm and sense of

* 1. Essays and Tales by John Sterling, collected and edited, with a memoir of his life. By Charles Julius Hare, M. A. London. J. W. Parker. 1848.

2. The Poetical Works of John Sterling. First American edition. Philadelphia: Herman Hooker. 1842.

beauty which characterize the poet.

To gratify as now,—found instant, tangible and efficient vent. these dominant impulses and at the same time, be Life was direct, individual, absolute. Its daily loyal to the duties of his position and true to him- tasks involved a great desire. Priests, warriors self-was what he constantly sought to do-in the aud poets did not enact their vocations by meface of physical weakness and pain and ever re-chanical routine, but with faith and zeal--as those curring monitions of death. The free thought, the to whom they imported much. Instead of specupatient will, the loving heart wrought not always lating about life they lived; instead of criticising together, but sometimes adversely; and, only at in- they created; instead of "letting I dare not wait tervals, came the balm of content and the blessed-upon I would"-they either realized desire through ness of tranquillity. Hence in broken tones and action, or turned from it with the self-sacrifice of by lapses he obtained utterance. No shapely and faith. They dallied, questioned, theorized, dissectcomplete temple rose beneath the hand whose ed not; but found some reality either of belief or nerves disease had unstrung; and hints instead of enterprise to embrace, cling to and pursue-thes revelations are bequeathed by a mind seldom al- giving unity and meaning to existence. lowed to work continuously. It is precisely in such Cut off by physical feebleness from extensive rea result, however, that we see the effect of the sev-search, Sterling sought truth by the process sugerance between thought and action, which is so gested by Swedenborg-the maintenance of a reimpressive a sign of the times. The warrior's cipient state through self-oblivion. He calmly ac thought, in earlier days, only heralded his attack; cepted the idea so eloquently urged by Coleridge, the scholar's meditation armed him for controversy that "Faith is the highest reason;" and in his litwhich influenced the fate of nations, and the minerary studies was indebted to him for the invalua strel equally adroit with sword and pen, struck his ble conviction that all criticism is blind which disharp in the intervals between embassies. There cerns not the "organic unity of an object." A are now countless eminent thinkers who must be content to cast a waif upon the rushing stream of opinion and see it carried down the tide of oblivion; exhaust their energy both of purpose and sentiment in vain longings and speculative reverie; and live, like Sterling" not arrived at clear satisfaction, yet stirred by the prompting consciousness that there is a higher aim of being than the outward world, or our sense and passion can furnish.”

mood of tranquil sympathy," was his ideal of happiness. “His mind,” says his biographer, "was reflective and speculative rather than intuitive and productive."

Mr. Hare evidently struggles between his affection for his friend and his conscientiousness as a priest, in recording the change in Sterling's views. To us, however, it is evident that the conservative discipline and spiritual incentives of the established

It is chiefly as a type of this class of men sin-church, were quite inimical to the progressive and gularly prevalent in this age, that Sterling deserves earnest spirit of Sterling. Early associations, a attention. The record of his views, aims, and sense of duty and a natural love of the consistent sentiments, his acquisitions and aspirations-con- and the habitual, rather than absolute conviction, tained in verse, essay, tale and letter admit the seems to have allied him to its doctrine and forms. thoughtful reader to a consciousness of his life- The truth is, his nature was of that description and that life, in its fragmentary issues, its alterna- which a creed oppresses. He belonged to the order tions of labor and despondency, its moods of criti- of men of whom Wordsworth speaks in his ode to cism and enthusiasm, hope and apathy, has in it a Duty, who "do God's will and knows it not " The blended glory of wo, promise and failure, sadness more he read metaphysics and theology, the less, and brilliancy, which although analagous to human it seems to us, did he realize the equanimity he life in general, involves, as it seems to us, a phase sought. The more he argued the less was he concharacteristic of the times-and one which has at- vinced. But when, with the childlike truthfulness tracted but slightly the consideration it deserves of the poet, he yielded himself to the influences of We allude to the fact that while greater scope nature; when, under the unchecked influence of than ever before is now afforded talent, and une- sentiments--whether love or veneration--a holy qualled opportunities for knowledge exist-earn- calm seems to have brooded over his soul. Only estness of purpose seems to find no heritage or then did he write genially. There is a painful goal. In by-gone days-there was ever a cause overlaying of unconscious and sweet impulse in dear enough to absorb all the energies of grave and his verse by will, reasoning and a definite moral ardent natures—a line of policy for the statesman system. Hence a certain stiffness which is repul leading to magnificent results; a special truth for sive. Yet as the formality of a Puritan often cov the divine, the maintenance of which happily pen- ered ardent heroism-one can ever see a cordial etrated and overflowed his being ;-a crusade for gleam from the eye of Sterling, the man, through the soldier holy enough to sanction and consecrate the spectacles of his scholarship, and hear a human his adventurous will and elicit his unswerving cour-heart beat under the frosty surplice of the priest. Energy of thought or feeling instead of It was this quality of correctness which attracted being diffused and "perplexed in the extreme," Sterling to German literature, and rendered its

age.

study an epoch in his life. Although in his admi-his house was blown down by a hurricane. He rable paper on the subject, he attributes its pecu- there interested himself in behalf of the education liar excellencies to the "seats of free thought," as of the slaves; and subsequently visited the south of he calls the German universities, it is because France and Italy; developing wherever he sojournthere, in his opinion, may be found "the greater ed, the same keen sense of the evils of society, the part of earnest meditation extant on earth.” same spirit for knowledge-the same clearness of understanding and earnestness of feeling. He died in 1843, having survived his wife but a few months; and the close of his own life was tranquil. He passed away with mental energies unimpaired, gentle affections vivid, and a calm faith in the benignity of his Creator.

His writings reflect a nature subject to the complex and antagonistic influences to which we have alluded. The ultimate impression they leave is a

Sterling never won the palm of English scholarship. His ill-health prevented the incessant application requisite for great classical acquirements; but independent of this, he was like Montaigne, more inclined to " forge his mind than to furnish it." No error is more common than to estimate mental power by the extent and retentiveness of the memory. It is one of those popular fallacies which the self-interest of mediocre intellects ever inculcates, on the same principle that characters melancholy one; for even the tragic consummation of narrow moral resources exaggerate the utility of mere belief, and give precedence to the letter over the spirit of the law. Erudition, however, can never take the place of talent, or any amount of formal ideas vield the vitality which results only from native intuitions. Sterling's early teacher acknowledges that he caught the spirit of a classi- bids the concentration of their impulses and acts, cal author with singular quickness and truth-and often re-produced in his own language, the essence of the myth or character-whose philological details alone his classmates laboriously unfolded. At school, also, his love of fine rhetoric evinced itself in great sensibility to effective combinations of language and a fondness for "sonorous words."

of a great hope, or the tardy realization of a prevailing idea, leaves a certain feeling of satisfaction. The sad phase of the richest natures in our day is their fragmentary and indeterminate destiny. As we muse of their career, our sympathies are painfully excited by the "strife of duties"-that for

and breaks up emotion, thought and energy into inadequate results. But the imperfections of a career are in such cases, best atoned for by social triumphs and felicity. In direct contact with other minds, in glad fellowship with kindred spirits-in the mental attrition of liberal society, a crude destiny may be in a great measure retrieved. Thus Sterling's paternal ancestry were Irish-which was it with Sterling. He numbered among his inaccounts for the ardent element in his nature. He timate friends the choicest men of his country. By was born at Kames Castle, Isle of Bute, July 20th, those admitted to his confidence, he was deeply 1806; and four years after, was removed to Gla- loved. His companionship quickened, solared and morganshire, to the romantic scenery of which cheered; and he had the "faculty of eliciting dorcountry he ascribed some of the most lasting im- mant powers in those with whom he was brought pressions of his childhood. His early tuition was in contact. Although his pen traced no immortal strictly private on account of his delicate health. inscriptions, he held, while living, the divining rod In 1833 he published a novel; and during the fol- which indicated unerringly the mines of intelleclowing year, having completed his theological stu- tual wealth in others, and brought the ore of gedies, he was ordained deacon, at Chichester, by his nius and the hidden springs of character brightly former teacher, constant friend, and subsequent bi- to the surface. This effective social ministryographer. In a few months, however, repeated both in regard to utility and enjoyment, amply comattacks of pulmonary disease, obliged him to with-pensated for the limited influence he exerted through draw from professional duty in which he had been the press. He fulfilled the high vocation of a singularly faithful. Thenceforth his life seems to friend in the best significance of the term; and have been divided between books and journeys-nature's ordinary gifts consecrated him to a wider experiments to ward off illness, and unremitting service than the church.

efforts to do good, enlarge the scope of his mental His mind was appreciating rather than producvision and achieve new discoveries in the realm of tive. He excelled in mental portraiture; and identruth. Although thus baffled by circumstances, tified himself through sympathy with literary and he deemed himself only a "looker on" in the strug- heroic characters, so as to designate their traits gle of life, there were inklings of adventure and with precision and fullness. This is evident in the occasions for philanthropic enterprise even for the series of papers entitled "Shades of the Dead;" studious invalid. His courageous and self-sacri there are fine and thoughtful touches especially in ficing activity at a college fire, early marked him the sketches of Alexander, Columbus and Jean d' for a man of benevolent impulse; he was a cordial Are; while the power of more elaborate characally of the Spanish refugees and crossed the chan- terization is well developed in the essays on Monnel in a fishing boat, with General Torrijos, after-taigne and Carlyle-writers as diverse in spirit and wards executed at Malaga. In the West Indies, aim as can readily be conceived, and yet brought

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