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t A , THE IiEADUE, [No. 284, ^ajtubjdat ...
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HEED ON ENGLISH LITERATURE. English Lite...
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Heine's Poems. Pictures Of Travel. Trans...
< . ¦ ¦• ¦ " ¦ \ i _ i . *! .-, * - otovtV Ms in his poetry * arise from a Mephistophelean * VT ^ LmSST ratter than W humour which affixes all that is alkineirhuSfn iSd of denying it and is in fact , an exuberant SJJngenuine ^ piu «» " h f ludicrous , while wit is the cri-S & nSSr ^ ST ^ c ^ pany With that same sense . Nevertheless , it St be ^ mitS tfat ther e ' are many passages of Sterne-Iike humour in Hehie aSdTS he is least akin to the French , and most nearly allied to SJ ™ roader and deeper German nature , which atones for the want of esprit bv something which esprit will never supersede—loving earnestness . ^ 7 it is tim e to tura from such rambling remarks to the object that sugcesied them—namely , the translation of Heine ' s Reisebilder , by a very gifted American . Of Heine , more even than the majority of poets , we must say that he is untranslatably felicitous . Many of his lyrics are mere gossamer Tvebs—touch them , try to transfer them , and all their qualities disappear . Hence , when we praise Mr . Leland ' s translation—arid we do so very sincerelv-Lwe must not be understood to mean that it will give the English reader a true conception of Heine ' s genius . Mr . Leland has that grand requisite of a translator , rigorous faithfulness ; he has also poetical sensibility , command of language , and an evidently acute perception of wit ; in short , he spoils Heine ' s poems perhaps as little as it is possible to sp oil them in a translation . This may not sj > em to be high praise , but we firmly believe it is the very highest praise that can ever be given to a translation of Heine s poems , and we recommend the reader who is hopeless of knowing these poems in the original to make his acquaintance with them through Mr . Leland ' s version . He , of course , succeeds best in the poems which are l egendary and ballad-like rather than purely lyrical . We give one of these , Which has again and again made the blood creep in our veins as we have read it : — The pale half-moon is floating Like a boat 'mid cloudy waves , Lone lies the pastor ' s cottage Amid the silent graves . The mother reads in the Bible , The son seems weary and weak ; The eldest daughter is drowsy , While the youngest begins to speak . " Ah me ! - —how every minute Bolls by so drearily ; Only when some one is buried , Have we anything here to see !" The mother murmured while reading , " Thou ' rt wrong—they ' ve brought but four Since thy poor father was buried Out -there by the churchyard door . " The eldest daughter says , gaping , " No more will I hunger by you ; 111 go to the Baron , to-morrow , He ' s wealthy , and fond of me too . " The son" bursts out into laughter , " Three hunters carouse in the Sun ; They all can make gold , and gladly Will show me how it is done . " The mother holds the Bible To his pale face in grief ; " And wilt thou—wicked fellow—Become a highway thief ?" V ' ¦' ¦ A rapping is heard on the window , There trembles a warning hand ; Without , in his black , church garments , They see their dead father stand . v following is a very happy specimen of translation ; it is easy and musical as an original :- — I know not what sorrow is o ' er me , I . . What spell is upon my heart ; But a tale of old times ia before me—A legend that will not depart . Night falls as I linger , dreaming , And calmly flows the Shine ; : The peaks of the hills are gleaming ; - . - In the golden sunset shine . A wondrous lovely maiden Sits high in glory there ; Her robe with gems is laden , ' . ' . .., And ehe corabeth her golden hair . ' And she spreads out the golden treasure , St ill singing in harmony ; And the song hath a mystical measure , And a wonderful melody . . The boatman , when once she hath bound him Is loat in a wild end Jove : He sees not the black rocks around him , ¦ Ho sees but the beauty above . Till ho drowns amid mad waves ringing , And sinks with the fading sun ; And that , with her magical singing , The witch of the Lurley hath done . The next is more injured in the rendering , but we give it as a specimen , bjf the most exquisite kind of pathos that Heine over attains ;—. J . n dreams J . saw the lovod one , A sorrowing , wearied form ; ' Her beauty blanched and withered !' " , By many a dreary storm ., (•« ., ;_ A little babe she carried , , Another child she led , And poverty and trouble In glance and garb I road .
She trembled through the market , And face to face we met ; And I calmly said , while sadly Her eyes on mine were set ? "Come to my house , I pray thee , For thou art pale and ' thin ; And for thee , by my labour , Thy meat and drink I'll win . 41 And to thy little children I'll be a father mild : But most of all thy parent , Thou poor unhappy child . " Nor will I ever tell thee That once I held thee dear ; And if thou diest , then I Will weep upon thy bier .
T A , The Iieadue, [No. 284, ^Ajtubjdat ...
t , THE IiEADUE , [ No . 284 , ^ ajtubjdat , I
Heed On English Literature. English Lite...
HEED ON ENGLISH LITERATURE . English Literature from Chaucer to Tennyson . By Henry Reed . Late Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in Pennsylvania University . ( Excelsior Library . No . II . ) J- F . Shaw . This is not , as its title seems to indicate , a History of English Literature from Chaucer to Tennyson , but a series of lectures on English Literature arranged more according to the suggestions of the moment than according to any distinct plan . We cannot greatly commend it , even accepting it for what it is ; and yet there is a charm in the subject , and a fascination in the abundant citations which brighten the pages , together with evidence , of an earnest and cultivated mind on the part of the lecturer , which lure the reader to the end when once he begins . Mr . Reed was neither a thinker nor an accomplished critic ; but he loved his subject , had stored his mind sort for the absence of
from choice works , and thus in some compensated power and originality . Not one of these Lectures would find a place in either of our Reviews ; yet the whole volume makes , as we said , a very agreeable relaxation for leisure hours . It is often a matter of regret and surprise that there should be no History of English Literature , or at least of English Poetry . A good history would be indeed very valuable ; but the causes which deprive us of such a work are not those usually alleged : the English may be a commercial , not a literary nation—may be indifferent to mere literature and the history thereof but even granting the truth of such statements , we cannot accept them as indicating the causes of our wanting a History of English Literature ; indeed the slightest acquaintance with the Publishers' Catalogue shows that Authors are by no means solely actuated by the prospect of pecuniary success ; they are ready enough to write and publish works on unsaleable subjects , and read y enough ( far too ready ) to publish unreadable works . The want of a public then cannot be the cause . The cause must lie in the subject . And if we consider what English Literature is we shall
have no difficulty in understanding why its history cannot be adequately written . The immense wealth and variety of our Literature is too much even for the most exhaustive erudition and the most catholic taste . Any one epoch is enough to engage the energies of one man . To be master of the Literature of the Eighteenth Century is an achievement few can boast ; but to add thereto a thorough knowledge of the Elizabethan Age , and the Age of Chaucer , demands more than the faculty and leisure of omnivorous erudition—it demands a flexibility and comprehensiveness of taste never seen with great special erudition . To admire the Elizabethan Age , the Age of Anne , and the Nineteenth Century—that is to say , not simply to recognise the greatness of the great writers in each epoch , but thoroughly to sympathise and comprehend the spirit of each epoch , implies a catholicjty of taste never yet found united with that patient , exhaustive eruditon which is demanded from the historian . Generally the man well read in the Literature of the Eighteenth Century has no sympathies with the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Centuries ; the black-letter men neglect
Pope , have never read Thomson , and ignore Tennyson ; the hearty admirer of Pope , Addison , Swift , Steele , and Johnson is tepid in his love of Drayton , Donne , or Cowley , and is intolerant of Tennyson , and Carlvk . Hence it seems clear that the reason why we have no History of English Literature is simply that we cannot get the historian . A philosophical survey of our Literature is within mortal powers , and a very interesting work might bo made of it . Among the curious phenomena to be noted there would bo the identification of poetic excellence with passionate love of external nature . Mr . Reed has touched this point in his seventh lecture .
In proceeding to the literature of the close of the seventeenth century , we approach a period which is marked by groat change . Heretofore in the succession of literary eras there had been a continuity of influence , which had not only served to give now strength and develop new resources , but to preserve the power of tho antecedent literature unimpaired . The present was never unnaturally or disloyally divorced from the past . The author in one generation found discipline for his genius in reverent and affectionate intercourse with great minds of other days . Such was their dutiful spirit of discipline , strengthening but not surrendering their own native power—the discipline so much wiser and so much more richly rewarded in tho might it gains , than the self-sufficient discipline , which , trusting to tho pride of originality or tho influences of tho day , disclaims tho ministry of time-honoured wisdom . Milton wan studious of Sponsor , and Spenser was grateful and reverent of Chaucer ; and thus , an age after age gave birth to tho groat poets , they were bound " ench to each in natural pioty . " But when wo come to those who followed Milton , tho golden chuin is broken . Tho next generation of tho poets abandoned tho hereditary allcgianco which hud herotoforo been cherished so dutifullytransmitted so faithfull .
, y It was at this time that tho earlier literature began to fall into neglect , displace 1 with all its grandeur and varied power of truth and beauty , displaced for more than a contury by an inferior literature , inferior and impuror , no that for more than « hundred years many of tho finest influences on tho English mind wore almost wholly withdrawn . Indeed , it is only within tho present century that tho restoration of thoao influences has been accomplished . Besides their disloyalty to tho groat poets who / had gone boforo . tho poets of _ tno now generation wore guilty of another neglect . eqWlly characteristic , and more f « v ( U
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), Sept. 1, 1855, page 16, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_01091855/page/16/
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