Poets of the South

" at the court of James I. His musical gifts manifested themselves in early childhood. Without further instruction in music than a knowle

he wrote, "The prime inclination-that is, natural bent (which I have checked, though)-of my nature is to music, and for that I have the greatest talent;

all stages of civilization, of time, or of eternity; since, I say, in all these, music is always present to utter the shallowest or the deepest thoughts of man or spirit-let us cease to call music a fine art, to class it with delicate pastry cookery and confectionery, and to fear to make too much of it lest it should make us sick." At a later period, while seeking to regain his health by a sojourn in Texas, he wrote to his wife: "All

ion: SIDNE

rican letters. Both in theory and in practice Lanier has, as we shall see, achieved admirable results. But, after all, the musical element of poetry is of minor importance. It is a means, and not an end. No jingle of sound can replace the delicacy of fancy, nobleness of sentiment and energy of thought that constit

y responded to the beauties of Nature; and in his hunting and fishing trips, in which he was usually accompanied by his younger brother Clifford, he caught something of the varied beauties of marsh, wood, and sky, which were afterwards to be so admirably woven into his poems. He early showed a fo

ves us a vivid picture of these social features of his college life. "I can recall," he says, "my association with him with sweetest pleasure, especially those Attic nights, for they are among the dearest and tenderest recollections of my life, when with a few chosen companions we would read from some treasured volume, it may have been Tennyson, or Carlyle, or Christopher North's Noctes Ambrosianoe, or we would make the hours vocal with music and song; those happy nights,

lighted in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy and in the works of "the poet- preacher," Jeremy Taylor. At this time, too, his thoughtful nature turned to the serious problem of his life work. He eagerly questioned his capabilities as preliminary, to use his own words, "to ascert

th his younger brother he joined the Macon Volunteers, and soon saw heavy service in Virginia. He took part in the battles of Seven Pines, Drewry's Bluffs, and Malvern Hill, in all of which he displayed a chivalrous courage. Afterward he became a signal officer and scout. "Nearly two years," he says, in speaking of this par

some of Tennyson's songs to music and to prosecute new lines of literary study. He took up the study of German, in which he became quite proficient, and by the light of the camp fire at night translated from Heine, Schiller, and Goethe. At the same t

ever. As might be expected, music finds an honored place in its pages. He regards music as essential to the home. "Given the raw materials," he says, "to wit, wife, children, a friend or two, and a house,-two other things are necessary. These are a good fire and good music. And inasmuch as we can do without the fire for half the year, I may say that music is the one essential. After t

The record of his struggle is truly pathetic. In a letter to Paul Hamilton Hayne, written in 1880, he gives us a glimpse both of his physical suffering and his mental agony. "I could never tell you," he says, "the extremity of illness, of poverty, and of unceasing toil, in which I have spent the last three years, and you would need only once to see the weariness with which I crawl to bed after a long day's work, and after a long night's work at the heels of it-and Sundays just as well as other days

Macon, Georgia. It proved a union in which Lanier found perpetual inspiration and comfort. His new-

ight of thy swe

h thy gray vis

ds to wifeles

for one-sexed

, he says again,

ear eyes and

y-sweet and e

hat God ma

rowns, 'tis t

ld professional players, and assume a leading part in a large orchestra which was organized expressly to play the most difficult works of the great masters, was (now that it's all over) a piece of temerity that I don't remember ever to have equaled before. But I trusted in love, pure and simple, and was not disappointed; for, as if by miracle, difficulties and discouragements melted away before the fire of a passion for music which grows ever stronger within my heart; and I came out with results more gratifying than it is becoming in

The current of his life still set to music, and his poetic efforts seem to have been less a matter of inspiration than of deliberate choice. In literary form the influence of Poe is discernible; but in subject

s kissed th

the viole

dst thou no

till? Who kno

the violet

af wrinkles

s ill is vi

ld glory o

comes and q

whirling in

m

d on extensive knowledge. A sweet warbler may depend on momentary inspiration; but the great singer, who is to instruct and move his age, must possess the insight and breadth of vision that come alone from a profound acquaintance with Nature and human history. With keen critical discern

which deservedly ranks as one of his noblest poems. The delicate forms and colors of Nature touched him to an ecstasy of delight; and at the same time they bodied forth to his ima

are trembling th

forms, and flash

een as dawn-sta

t wave against

ds; the embracin

of mighty

hs into little

on like beati

k 'twixt lips

balm, as a drea

gue wafture, ex

hickories breat

urgence bold o

asy burg

s conception of the poetic office. The poet should be a proph

ine one tall co

d the foremost

blades upon

icket of the b

lk, that ne'er ma

ou type the po

e vanward of

owards with co

thee, yet fain,

ncrement, a

ou art, yet rich i

yeomen self

gentle curve

thy long veins wi

y godli

om the four w

thrown against these people here, and the more reverses I suffer at their hands, the more confident I am of beating them finally. I do not mean by 'beating' that I am in opposition to them, or that I hate them or feel aggrieved with them; no, they know no bet

ive myself some freedom in my own peculiar style, and have allowed myself to treat words, similes, and meters with such freedom as I desired. The result convinces me that I can do so now safely." In the next two or three years he produced such notable poems as The Song of the Chattahooche

ew of his other poems, but it is perfectly clear, and has a pleasant lilting movement. Moreover, it teaches the important truth that

the hills o

t the vall

e rain from att

the voices

il and be mixe

burn and the mi

nd meadows m

main from be

the hills o

ough the vall

s subject to a good deal of unfavorable criticism; but through it all, though it must have been a bitter disappointment, the poet never lost his faith in his genius and destiny. "The artist shall put forth, humbly and lovingly," he wrote to his father, "and without bitterness against opposition, the very best and highest tha

he purely for want of an hour or two to hold a pen." He sought various positions-a clerkship in Washington, an assistant's place in the Peabody Library, a consulship in the south of France-all in vain. He lectured to parlor classes in literature-an

ement in English versification; but his attempt to reduce all forms of verse to a musical notation can hardly be regarded as successful. His work, though comprehensive in scope, was not intended to impose a new set of laws upon the poet. "For the artist in verse," he says in his brief concluding chapter, "there

as he pointed out, have been written while the wonderful discoveries of recent science were being made. "Now," he continues, "if we examine the course and progress of this poetry, born thus within the very grasp and maw of this terrible science, it seems to me that we find-as to the substance of poetry-a steadily increasing confidence and joy in the mission of the poet, in the sacredness of faith and love and duty and friendship a

w the trend forced upon him by his innate love of music; and though he might have written much more, if his life had been prolonged, it is doubtful whether he would have produced anything finer. Any further eff

d and simple and nothi

to the sky and offer

suffer the sea and t

ike the catholic man

dge, and good out

lindness, and puri

r of his last illness. In the poet's collected works, it is placed first in the series called Hymns of t

as fain of their

ak, the marsh

aves would not let

marshes, a message

tures of wild sea-l

lapped leaves s

he gates

, in the dark of

Captives hid in t

twos and by th

f sleep fel

of a lady that

with ha

of sleep s

*

a sound sho

a bound sh

g tension of beauty a

the bow, or the hold

r me yon dome of

bubble o'erblo

nuous tissues of s

h stars, overfre

beauty and si

e that brok

degree to this

d or a mo

ne say with authority," he inquires in one of his university lectures, "to the young artist, whether working in stone, in color, in tones, or in character- forms of the novel: so far from dreading that your moral purpose will interfere with your beautiful creation, go forward in the clear conviction that, unless you are suffused-soul and body, one might say- with that moral purpose which finds its largest expression

lly driven to tent life in a high, pure atmosphere as his only hope. He first went to Asheville, North Carolina, and a little later to L

y Poe. He had the high moral purpose of the artist- prophets; but his efforts after musical effects, as well as his untimely death, prevented the full fruitage of his admirable genius. Many of the poems that he has left us are lacking in spontaneity and artistic finish. Alliterative effects are sometimes ob

tion: FAT