intensely interested in the illustrious Italian poet, Tasso. A great deal has been written concerning the strange life of that eccentric man, and Wilde, having entered zealously into the subject, collected most valuable material in his two-volume work, Conjectures and Researches concerning the Love, Madness, and Imprisonment of Tasso. Another act of his, which should have brought upon him the blessing of all Italy, was his recovery of the only portrait of Dante. The picture had been painted upon a wall, but for generations ignorant owners had repeatedly whitewashed the place until no trace of the likeness was visible. In his studies Wilde noted that once upon a time such a painting had been executed and, by careful removal of the layers of lime, he uncovered the treasure. It was during these years that he wrote a Life of Dante-which has not been published, however-and collected material for his essay on Petrarch. During all these years, also, he had been writing original or translated poems, and by the close of the period of foreign travel (1840) his name as an author was fairly well established. Shortly after his return to America, he removed to New Orleans. He established there a large practice, and at the same time held the professorship of Constitutional Law in the University of Louisiana. He died of yellow fever, September 10, 1847, and his body was taken back to his Georgia home near Augusta and buried beside that of his little son. In later years the Hayne Society, a literary club of Augusta, removed the remains to Oakland Cemetery near the city, and there he now sleeps. Tall and Personally he was an attractive man. graceful, with bright eyes and long black hair, he was a man to command attention immediately. And a closer acquaintance but heightened admiration; for he seemed ever good-natured, quick, brilliant, willing to take and give repartee. Gentle in his nature, he made numerous friends and few enemies. As a writer, his fame rests largely on his work dealing with Tasso and on one poem, My Life Is Like the Summer Rose. Other verses by him are good, some few excellent, but none of them have the music and humanness of the one mentioned. He began an epic based on adventures that his brother experienced in Florida; but all that remains of the intended work is this short poem of six stanzas. Only by mischance and distinctly against his wish did it reach the public; but the praise received warranted the publication. Byron read it and immediately wrote Wilde a letter, calling the verses "the first poem of the century." The scholar, Anthony Barclay, translated it into Greek, and another scholar, mistaking it for an original ancient poem, wrote an article in the North American Review, accusing Wilde of plagiarism. Much discussion was aroused, and several years passed before the matter was made clear. Thus the poem was soon a widely known one, and among the sentimentally inclined the lines were often quoted: "My life is like the summer rose, As though she wept such waste to see; The poem has several beautiful ideas and sentiments artistically expressed; but that line repeated in one form or another at the end of each stanza "But none shall weep a tear for me" is certainly a bit of affectation and sentimentality inexcusable according to more modern views. The same weakness is noticeable in others of his poems. The Ode to Ease, telling in a most original manner the results of a choice between ease and industry, is good and more than good in the main; but the regret in it strikes the reader as somewhat oratorical and overwrought. Yet, it is not lacking in true poetic quality. "I chose thee, Ease! and yet to me, Coy and ungrateful thou hast proved, Much that was worthy to be loved. Oh, come again! Thy witching powers With thee to cheer me, heavenly queen, And conscience clear, and health serene, And friends and books to banish spleen, A sweet variety of joys; And glory's crown and beauty's smile, And treasured hoards should seem the while In his Farewell to America, written on the occasion of his departure for Europe, we have a really good poem of patriotism, earnest and true in its sentiment: "Farewell, my more than fatherland! Home of my heart and friends, adieu! How often, o'er the waters blue, Send back a sigh to those I leave, The loving and beloved few, Who grieve for me,-for whom I grieve!" From the standpoint of naturalness and poetic appreciation of Nature and its creatures, his little poem, To the Mocking Bird, should rank high. Here is a certain intermingling of humor and seriousness that seems to agree most pleasantly with the subject. In the daytime the bird is a "motly fool:" "Thine ever ready notes of ridicule Pursue thy fellows still with jest and gibe." He is indeed by day a "Yorick"; but when darkness comes he pours "a soft, sweet, pensive, solemn strain" as though he would, "Like to the melancholy Jaques, complain, Musing on falsehood, folly, vice, and wrong." But justice will not allow us a more prolonged study of Wilde. His were but partially accomplished possibilities. With the poetic nature, the inborn love of the best in literature, a perception of what is artistic, he yet failed of great results. We can but add him to the list of Southern men who wrote fairly well, but might have written splendidly if in their literary efforts they had been deeply in earnest. But we have seen how poetry was to them not a vocation but an avocation. VIII Along with these minor though sweet-voiced singers were a few strong voices singing the songs that in all the intervening years have not ceased to be considered treasures. Let us glance quickly at a few more of those who did "fairly" well and then turn to those who did extremely well. Among these minor poets was MIRABEAU BUONAPARTE LAMAR (1798-1859). Born and reared at Louisville, Georgia, he was for some Mirabeau years a business man in that town. Buonaparte But, turning his attention to journalism, he became in 1828 editor of The Columbus Inquirer, an advocate of (1798-1859) states'-rights. In 1835 he removed to Texas, fought in the battle of San Jacinto, and led the charge that gained the conflict. Lamar Upon the establishment of the Republic of Texas, he served successively as attorney-general, secretary of war, vice-president, and president. He was appointed United States minister to Argentine Republic in 1857, but did not go to his post of duty; in 1858, however, he became minister resident at Nicaragua and Costa Rica. Just the year before (1857), a small volume of his poetry had been printed under the title of Verse Memorials, and this, with an album of manuscript poetry which was never published, constitutes the sum total of his poetic endeavors. His verse shows qualities akin to those of such writers as Burns, Moore, and Hood in their lighter moments. Deep, mighty efforts were never his; but in his love lyrics there is a sentiment expressed in musical rhyme that is decidedly pleasing. In this form of song with its excusable license in the use of slightly strained descriptions and bold similes, a form that has been used so admirably among the Scotch and the Irish, Lamar was very much an adept. A stanza from The Daughter of Mendoza will illustrate this: "How brilliant is the morning star! The evening star how tender! The light of both is in her eye, Their softness and their splendor. But for the lash that shades their light, They are too dazzling for the sight; And when she shuts them, all is night- And in mentioning this poem we have mentioned his best one and the one that will longest be remembered. |