Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

The thing! but man will tease you, if he loves.
But now for business: tell me, did you think
That we should always at your meetings wink?
Think you, you walked unseen? There are who bring
To me all secrets-0 you wicked thing !
Poor Fanny! now I think I see her blush,
Ali red and rosy, when I beat the bush ;
And “ Hide your secret,”—said 1, "if you dare !"
So out it came like an affrightened hare.
“Miss !” said I, gravely : and the trembling maid
Pleased me at heart to see her so afraid ;
And then she wept,-now, do remember this,
Never to chide her when she does amiss ;
For she is tender as the callow bird,
And cannot bear to have her temper stirred ;-
“ Fanny,” I said, then whispered her the name,
And caused such looks-yes, yours are just the same į
But hear my story-When your love was known
For this our child-she is in fact our own-
Then, first debating, we agreed at last
To seek my Lord and tell him what had passed?
"To tell the Earl ?'

'Yes truly, and why not?
And then together we contrived our plot.'
'Eternal God!'

'Nay be not so surprised, -
In all the matter we were well advised ;
We saw my Lord, and Lady Jane was there,
And said to Johnson-Johnson, take a chair.'
True we are servants in a certain way,
But in the higher places so are they ;
We are obeyed in ours and they in theirs obey-
So Johnson bowed, for that was right and fit,
And had no crup with the Earl to sit-
Why look you so impatient while I tell
What they debated? You must like it well.'

*

*

*

*

That evening all in fond discourse was spent When the sad lover to his chamber went,

To think on what had passed, to grieve and to repent
Early he rose, and looked with many a sigh
On the red light that filled the eastern sky;
Oft had he stood before, alert and gay,
To hail the glories of the new-born day :
But now dejected, languid, listless, low,
He saw the wind upon the water blow,
And the colá stream curled onward as the gale
From the pine hill blew harshly down the dale ;
On the right side the youth a wood surveyed,
With all its dark intensity of shade ;
Where the rough wind alone was heard to move,
In this, the pause of nature and of love,
When now the young are reared, and when the old,
Lost to the tie grow negligent and cold-
Far to the left he saw the huts of men,
Half hid in mist, that hung upon the fen;
Before him swallows gathering for the sea,
Took their short flights and twittered on the lea:
And near the bean-sheaf stood, the harvest done,
· And slowly blackened in the sickly sun;
All these were sad in nature, or they took
Sadness from time, the likeness of his look,
And of his mind-he pondered for a while,
Then met his Fanny with a borrowed smile.

WILLIAM BLAKE.

(William Blake was born in London at No. 28, Broad Street, Golden Square, on the 28th November 1757; he died in Fountain Court, Strand, on the 12th of August, 1827. His Poetical Sketches were published in 1783, and the Songs of Innocence in 1787. In 1787 was also published The Book of Thel; and this was followed in 1790 by The Marriage of Heaven and Heil, in 1791 by The French Revolution, and in 1793 by The Gates of Paradise, the Visions of the Daughters of Albion, and the America. The Songs of Experience, designed as a companion series to the earlier Songs of Innocence, were issued in 1794. Of the later productions of the poet nearly all belonged to the c'ass of prophetic books. To the year 1794 belong the Europe and The Book of Urizen; in 1795 appeared The Song of Los and The Book of Abania, and in 1804 the Jerusalem and the Milton.]

The poetry of Blake holds a unique position in the history of English literature. Its extraordinary independence of contemporary fashion in verse, and its intuitive sympathy with the taste of a later generation, would alone suffice to give a peculiar interest to the study of the poet's career.

Nor is this interest in any way diminished by a knowledge of Blake's singular and strongly marked individuality. Indeed, it is scarcely possible to do justice to the great qualities of his imagination, or to make due allowance for its startling defects, unless the exercise of the poetic gift is considered in relation to the other faculties of his mind. He appealed to the world in the double capacity of poet and painter ; and such was the peculiar nature of his endowment and the particular method of his work, that it is difficult to measure the value of his literary genius vithout some reference to his achievements in design. For it is not merely that he practised the two arts simultaneously, but that he chose to combine them after a fashion of his

An engraver by profession and training, he began at a very early age to employ his technical knowledge in the invention of a wholly original system of literary publication. With the exception of the Poetical Sketches, issued in the ordinary form through the kindly help of friends, nearly all of Blake's poems were given to the world in a fantastic diess of his own devising, He became in a special sense his own printer and his own pub. lisher. The typography of his poems and the pictorial illustration hy which they were accompanied were blended in a single scheme of ornamental design, and from the engraved plate upon which this design was executed by the artist's own hand copies were struck off in numbers more than sufficient to satisfy the modest demands of his admirers.

own.

This peculiar process of publication cannot of course be held to affect Blake's claims as a poet. It bears a more obvious relation to those powers of a purely artistic kind which are not here in question ; but its employment by him is nevertheless well deserying of remark in this place, because it indicates a certain quality of mind that deeply affected his poetic individuality. That happy mingling and confusion of text and ornament which give such a charm to Songs of Innocence was the symbol of a strongly marked intellectual tendency that afterwards received a morbid development. Blake has been called mad, and within certain well-defined limits the charge must, we think, be admitted. He possessed only in the most imperfect and rudimentary form the faculty which distinguishes the functions of art and literature; and when his imagination was exercised upon any but the simplest material, his logical powers became altogether unequal to the labour of logical and consequent expression. That this failure arose rather from morbid excess and excitement of visionary power than from any abnormal defect of intellectual energy is sufficiently indicated by the facts of his career. For while his hold over the abstract symbols of language grew gradually feebler, his powers of pictorial imagery became correspondingly vigorous and intense. The artistic faculty in Blake strengthened and developed with advancing life, and he produced no surer or more satisfying example of his powers than the series of illustrations to the Book of Job, executed when he was already an old man.

Indeed if Blake had never committed himself to literature we should scarcely be aware of the morbid tendency of his mind. It is only ::1 turning from his design to his verse that we are forced to recognise the imperfect balance of his faculties : nor could we rightly understand the strange limitation of his poetical powers without constant reference to this diseased activity of the artistic

For there is a large portion of Blake's verse which is not infected at all with the suspicion of insanity, and it seems at first sight almost inexplicable that a writer who has produced some of the simplest and sweetest lyrics in the language should also have left behind him a confused mass of writings such as no man can hope to decipher. All that can be done for these so-called Prophetic Books has been accomplished by Mr. Swinburne, in his sympathetic study of the poet's work; but although Mr. Swinburne rightly asserts the power that is displayed in them, his eloquent commentary does not substantially change the ordinary judgment of their confused and inconsequent character. The defects of such work are too grave for any kind of serious vindication to be really possible, and if Blake had produced nothing more or nothing better, his claims to rank among English poets could not be success!ully maintained. But these defects, although they are in their nature incurable, are not altogether incapable of explanation. For it cannot be questioned by any one who has seriously attempted to decipher these 'prophetic writings, that to Blake himself the ordinary modes of intellectual expression had become charged with something of mysterious and special meaning. Words were no longer mere abstract symbols : they had assumed to his imagination the force of individual images. As they passed into his work they lost the stamp of ordinary currency and became impressed with a device of his own coinage, vivid and eloquent to him, but strange to all the world beside. To Blake's mind, in short, these prophetic writings doubtless formed a series of distinct and coherent pictures ; but without the key that he alone possessed, they must ever remain a chaos through which not even the most wary guide can hope to find a path.

sense.

Putting aside the prophetic books, the quantity of verse which Blake has left behind him is by no means large. His lyrical poems have been collected in a small volume edited by Mr. W. M. Rossetti, and the contents of this volume are found to be mainly derived from the Poetical Sketches and the Songs of Innocence and Experience. It is to these essays of his youth and early manhood that we must look for the true sources of his fame. The Poetical Sketches, begun when the author was only twelve years of age, and finished when he was no more than twenty, must assuredly be reckoned among the most extraordinary examples of youthful production ; and it is profoundly characteristic of the man and his particular cast of mind that many of these boyish poenis are among the best that Blake at any time produced. For his was a nature that owed little to development or experience. The perfect

« AnteriorContinuar »