Marginalia, Part I [pp. 217-222]

1849.] Marginalia. 219
cerned. If any music must imitate any thing,
it were, undoubtedly, better that the imitation
should be limited as Gravina suggests.
That indefinitiveness which is, at least, one of
the essentials of true music, must, of course, be
kept in view by the song-writer; while, by the
critic, it should always be considered in his estimate of the song. It is, in the author, a consciousness-sometimes merely an instinctive appreciation, of this necessity for the indefinite,
which imparts to all songs, rightly conceived,
that free, affluent, and hearty manner, little scrupulous about niceties of phrase, which cannot be
better expressed than by the hackneyed French
word abandonnement, and which is so strikingly
exemplified in both the serious and joyous ballads and carols of our old English progenitors.
Wherever verse has been found most strictly
married to music, this feature prevails. It is thus
the essence of all antique song. It is the soul of
Homer. It is the spirit of Anacreon. It is even
the genius of ZEschylus. Coming down to our
own times, it is the vital principle in De B6ranger. Wanting this quality, no song-writer was
ever truly popular, and, for the reasons assigned,
no song-writer need ever expect to be so.
These views properly understood, it will be
seen how baseless are the ordinary objections to
songs proper, on the score of " conceit," (to use
Johnson's word,) or of hyperbole, or on various
other grounds tenable enough in respect to poetry not designed for music. The "conceit," for
example, which some envious rivals of Morris
have so much objected to
Her heart and morning broke together
In the storm
this "conceit" is merely in keeping with the essential spirit of the song proper. To all reasonable persons it will be sufficient to say that the
fervid, hearty, free-spoken songs of Cowley and
of Donne-more especially of Cunningham, of
nothing else, Morris is immortal. It is quite impossible to put down such things by sneers. The
affectation of contemnilg them is of no availunless to render manifest the envy of those who
affect the contempt. As mere poems, there are
several of Morris's compositions equal, if not
superior, to either of those just mentioned, but as
songs I much doubt whether these latter have
ever been surpassed. In quiet grace and unaffected tenderness, I know no American poem
which excels the following:
Where Hudson's wave o'er silvery sands
Winds through the hills afar,
Old Crow-nest like a monarch stands,
Crowned with a single star.
And there, amid the billowy swells
Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth,
My fair and gentle Ida dwells,
A nymph of mountain birth.
The snow-flake that the cliff receives The diamonds of the showers Spring's tender blossoms, tbuds and leaves The sisterhood of flowers Morn's early beam —eve's balmy breeze Her purity define: But Ida's dearer far than these
To this fond breast of mine.
My heart is on the hills; the shades
Of night are on my brow.
Ye pleasant haunts and silent glades
My soul is with you now.
I bless the star-crowned Highlands where
My Ida's footsteps roam: Oh, for a falcon's wing to bear To bear me to my home.
A capital book, generally speaking;* but Mr.
Grattan has a bad habit-that of loitering in the
road-of dallying and toying with his subjects,
as a kitten with a mouse-instead of grasping it
firmly at once and eating it up without more ado.
He takes up too much time in the ante-room.
He has never done with his introductions. Oc
Harrington and of Carew-abound in precisely casionally, one introductio]
similar things; and that they are to be met with, another; so that by the ti
plentifully, in the polished pages of Moore and main incidents there is
of B6ranger, who introduce them with thought He seems afflicted with th;
and retain them after mature deliberation. perversity observed in ga
Morris is, very decidedly, our best writer of the desire of tantalizing by
songs-and, in saying this, I mean to assign him G's circumlocution, howex
a high rank as poet. For my own part, I would that which Albany Fonbl
much rather have written the best song of a na- style of about and about a
tion than its noblest epic. One or two of Hoff- to nothing and nonsense.".
man's songs have merit-but they are sad echoes looking lithograph here gi
of Moore, and even if this were not so (every be meant for Mr. Grattan
body knows that it is so) they are totally deficient like nobody else:-for th
in the real song-essence. "Woodman Spare that knew an individual with a
Tree" and "By the Lake where droops the Wil- tenance of an under-done
low" are compositions of which any poet, living
or dead, might justly be proud. By these, if by *,, Highways and By-ways."
n is but the vestibule to
ime he arrives at his
nothing more to tell.
at curious yet common
rrulous old women circumlocution. Mr.
'er, is by no means like
anque describes as "a
nd all the way round
......If the greasyven as a frontispiece,
, then is Mr. Grattan
e fact is, I never yet
wire wig, or the counapple dumpling.....
1849.]
Marginalia.
219