60 The Venom of Pride. "Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween; The visions of my youth have been- "And pride, what have I now with thee? "The happiest day-the happiest hour- "But were that hope of pride and power Ev'n then I felt-that brightest hour "For on its wing was dark alloy, An essence, powerful to destroy With the lines entitled "The Lake "-the best poem in the collection-Edgar Poe's earliest literary venture closes. Taken altogether, and due allowance being made for some exceptional beauties and occasional originalities, there was not much in this 1827 volume to show the world that a new poetic power was about to arise; its author's incomparable melody of rhythm Departure for Europe. 61 and haunting power of words were not, as yet, foreshadowed. But this little book was suppressed, and its author, in all probability, recalled to Richmond. Whatever arrangements were made as to the future can only be speculated upon-the result was, however, unless the poet's most solemn word is to be doubted, that he departed for Europe; and it is generally supposed, and by Poe was never contradicted, in order to offer his services to the Greeks against their Turkish tyrants. (62) CHAPTER VII. EASTWARD HO!* It TOWARDS the end of June, 1827, Edgar Poe would appear to have left the United States for Europe. is very problematical whether he ever reached his presumed destination, the scene of the Greco-Turkish warfare, or ever saw aught, save in his "mind's eye,” of "The glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome." The poems which he wrote either during his absence abroad or directly after his return home (such as “ Al Aaraaf" and the "Sonnet to Zante "), contain allusions to Greece and its scenery that, in some instances, appear to be the result of personal reminiscence or impression; but with a mind of such identificative power as was Poe's, these coincidences cannot be allowed to count for much. This account of Poe's adventures in Europe is derived from memoranda made at his own request-during a dangerous illness which it was deemed might end fatally-shortly after his wife's decease. There does not appear to be any reason for doubting the accuracy of this any more than of any other of the poet's statements.-J. H. I. Ebenezer Berling. 63 Hannay says—and how many will agree with him?"I like to think of Poe in the Mediterranean, with his passionate love of the beautiful,-in 'the years of April blood,'-in a climate which has the perpetual luxury of a bath he must have had all his perceptions of the lovely intensified wonderfully. What he did there we have now no means of discovering." Poe had, undoubtedly, been excited by the heroic efforts the insurgent Greeks were making to throw off the yoke of their Turkish oppressors, and was, probably, emulous of Byron, whose example and Philhellenic poesy had aroused the chivalric aspirations of the boys of both continents, and whose writings, certainly, strongly influenced our hero's own muse at this epoch of his life. Powell states that it was in conjunction with an acquaintance, Ebenezer Berling, that the youthful poet formed the design of participating in the Hellenic revolution, and conjectures that Poe went alone in consequence of his companion's heart failing him.† Whatever may have been the truth with regard to Berling, at that time the lad's most intimate and most trusted acquaintance, it must be remembered that he -unlike Poe the orphan-was a widow's only son, and, doubtless, in delicate health, as he died not long after his friend's departure. * J. Hannay, The Life and Genius of Edgar Allan Poe, 1852. † Powell, Living Poets of America, 1850. 64 The Hero's Hymn. A most interesting and suggestive memento of the youthful crusader's enthusiasm is to be found in an unknown translation by him of the famous “Hymn in honour of Harmodius and Aristogeiton." As an excuse for the omission of the latter hero's name, Poe pleads the impossibility of making it scan in English verse. If this juvenile version of these oft-translated verses does not display any very great poetic merit, it is at least as good, and, indeed, much better than many other renderings of the Hymn" by well-known bards “Wreathed in myrtle, my sword I'll conceal, Like those champions, devoted and brave, * Beloved berces your deathless souls roam “In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine, Te deliverers of Athens frem stame- Embalmed in their echoing songs." |