all, for religious verse, such as Herbert's, Crashaw's, Vaughan's, Herrick's, it is the breath of life. In Keble's it is never more than an accident. He, the devoutest of men, the most emotional, the least worldly, a Nathaniel without guile, only by fits and starts blazes into flame from his own sovereign theme. I feel him, while he diversifies and polishes his rhythm, drills his topics, verifies his allusions, corrects his punctuation, to be always on the watch against himself. He is guarding against explosions of enthusiasm, which would have swept away his excess of elaboration, and the prolixity fatal to many a fine thought. In modesty and shyness like to Herbert, Crashaw, Vaughan, he was, unlike them, not of those who invite or suffer the world to count their heart-beats. He has sung: Well it is for us our God should feel Alone our secret throbbings; so our prayer The rule is true for worshippers; not for the poet who writes of them and himself. It is from those deep throbbings, secret except for verse, that essential poetry is distilled. Poetry demands the sacrifice of the privacy of souls. A poet, to aspire to the peaks, must be incapable of withholding the best and dearest in his nature. Keble, if so made as to have dared thus to suffer his spirit to take fire, at all events did not let it. Always he reserved something from the furnace. He constantly was pointing out how Christians, he with the rest, ought to think of Earth and Heaven, rather than how he himself in fact thought. Not having fastened his soul to the stake, he is not of the inner circle in poetry. Whether, had he submitted himself, he would have been, who can tell? The Christian Year. throughout the Year. Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holidays Forty-third ed. Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1853. Lyra Innocentium. Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1846. Miscellaneous Poems, by the Rev. John Keble. Oxford and London : James Parker & Co., 1869. 1 Petition to the Lord of the Manor of Merdon of Anemone, Orchis, Violet, Daffodil, Cowslip, and Primula (Miscellaneous Poems), p. 281. A Sister, pp. 149–51, and Fire, pp. 155–7 (Lyra Innocentium, Children's Troubles). 3 Monday Before Easter, st. 8 (Christian Year), p. 119. • Easter Eve, st. 2 (ibid.), p. 137. 5 Morning, st. 1 (ibid.), p. 1. First Sunday After Epiphany, st. 4 (ibid.), p. 56. Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity, stanzas 1-2 (ibid.), p. 252. 8 Twentieth Sunday After Trinity, stanzas 1-3 (ibid.), pp. 272–3. • May Garlands (Lyra Innocentium, Children's Sports), pp. 169-71. 10 Fourth Sunday in Advent, st. 5 (Christian Year), p. 23. 11 Fourth Sunday in Lent, stanzas 2, 4, 5 (ibid.), pp. 105–6. 13 Twenty-fourth Sunday After Trinity, st. 3 (ibid.), p. 285. JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 1801-1890 OXFORD logic and metaphysics, and English Church lethargy cost literature a great poet, and gained for it a great poem. Dr. Newman's earlier productions showed more of promise than performance. The first in the collection of 1868 is separated from The Dream of Gerontius, dated January, 1865, which closes the volume, by a space of forty years. Naturally the contents might be expected to differ widely in character. As naturally it might be supposed that the earlier would have more of fancy and enthusiasm. On the contrary, the writer is more selfrestrained, less manifestly full of original ideas, at the commencement of his poetical career than at its end. While as yet uncertain of his theological position, doubting his old views, alarmed by the fascinations of the new, he curbed his imagination. When he had found peace at last, if not Nirvana, satisfaction at the sense of finality burst into an amazing, an amazed ecstasy, which transmuted a lake of fire into a bed of roses. Not that the hundred and forty-three poems which precede the Dream are without distinct charms of their own. They are devout, with a modesty and good taste which hymnology often lacks. Frequently their spirit rises so high that the reader of them feels a shock when suddenly it seems to droop and sink. Their fault is a repression, rather than an incapability, of passionateness; a determination to make poetry a property of religion, and not religion subject-matter of poetry. Compare them with the hymns in Milman's Martyr of Antioch or Siege of Jerusalem, and the contrast is violent. Poetry is a jealous mistress. Service it may lend; it will not endure to be treated as a handmaid. It insists upon choosing its times and seasons; upon enjoying whatever society it prefers. Self-abnegation, the bowing of its will to a predetermined object, are not among its virtues. On the requisition, even by a John Henry Newman, of sacrifices of its independence, it may continue the loan of form and rhythm; inspiration ceases. The poetic instinct was always in the man, ready to operate, if allowed its liberty. He on his part was as resolved to keep its action subservient to an obligation he regarded as sovereign. Treated as a drudge the Muse turns sullen and mute. Thus the reader may have prepared for a poem as well as hymn, when fancy is seen to withdraw abruptly from the brink of a noble lyric. How easily, for example, might The Scars of Sin, Desolation, For the Dead, have been caressed into music! Sometimes a thought is so fine that it is hard to explain the general neglect; as in Transfiguration : I saw thee once, and nought discern'd For stranger to admire ; A serious aspect, but it burn'd Again I saw, and I confess'd Thy speech was rare and high; I saw once more, and awe-struck gazed God's living glory round thee blazed- I doubt if many even of Newman's admirers know of his grave of his young tender Birthday Offering on sister! Loveliest, meekest, blithest, kindest ! I this monument would raise, : Few will see it; few e'er knew thee; These will read, and these will prize it.2 The merits of such charming things have, I can but suppose, been smothered under the neighbouring pile of verse pressed into service as a vehicle of religious musings, often momentous, yet not poetry. In other cases the infusion of militant dogma may have denied popular acceptance to pieces otherwise fully entitled to it. Mark, for example, the light touch in the Month of Mary: The green green grass, the glittering grove, The heaven's majestic dome, They image forth a tenderer bower, A more refulgent home; |