contemporary life. During the war for the Union he published a second series of the Biglow Papers, in which with the wit and fun of the earlier series there was mingled a deeper strain of feeling and a larger tone of patriotism. The limitations of his style in these satires forbade the fullest expression of his thought and emotion, but afterward in a succession of poems, occasioned by the honors paid to student-soldiers in Cambridge, the death of Agassiz, and the celebration of national anniversaries during the years 1875 and 1876, he sang in loftier, more ardent strains. The interest which readers have in Lowell is still divided between his rich, abundant prose, and his thoughtful, often passionate verse. The sentiment of his early poetry, always humane, has been enriched by larger experience, so that the themes which he has lately chosen demand and receive a broad treatment, full of sympathy with the most generous instincts of the present, and built upon historic foundations. In 1877 he went to Spain as Minister Plenipotentiary. I. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. [AUTHOR'S NOTE. According to the mythol ogy of the Romancers, the San Greal, or Holy Grail, was the cup out of which Jesus Christ partook of the last supper with his disciples. It was brought into England by Joseph of Arimathea, and remained there, an object of pilgrimage and adoration, for many years in the keeping of his lineal descendants. It was incumbent upon those who had charge of it to be chaste in thought, word, and deed; but one of the keepers, having broken this condition, the Holy Grail disappeared. From that time it was a favorite enterprise of the Knights of Arthur's court to go in search of it. Sir Galahad was at last successful in finding it, as may be read in the seventeenth book of the Romance of King Arthur. Tennyson has made Sir Galahad the subject of one of the most exquisite of his poems. The plot (if I may give that name to anything so slight) of the following poem is my own, and, to serve its purposes, I have enlarged the circle of competition in search of the miraculous cup in such a manner as to include not only other persons than the heroes of the Round Table, but also a period of time subsequent to the date of King Arthur's reign.] PRELUDE TO PART FIRST. OVER his keys the musing organist, And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay; 5 Then, as the touch of his loved instrument 10 Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme, Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; Over our manhood bend the skies; 15 The great winds utter prophecies; 20 With our faint hearts the mountain strives; Waits with its benedicite; And to our age's drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea. Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; 9. In allusion to Wordsworth's "Heaven lies about us in our infancy," in his ode, Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood. 25 At the Devil's booth are all things sold, And what is so rare as a day in June? 40 An instinct within it that reaches and towers, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 45 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 50 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, To be some happy creature's palace; And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; 27. In the Middle Ages kings and noblemen had in their ourts jesters to make sport for the company; as every one then wore a dress indicating his rank or occupation, so the jester wore a cap hung with bells. The fool of Shakspere's play the king's jester at his best. And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; 55 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? 60 Now is the high-tide of the year, And whatever of life hath ebbed away No matter how barren the past may have been, 'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; 65 We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We e may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 70 That dandelions are blossoming near, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by; 75 For other couriers we should not lack; We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, 80 Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; Everything is happy now, 85 Everything is upward striving; 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true |