DAYBREAK. DAY had awakened all things that be, The lark, and the thrush, and the swallow free, The crickets were still in the meadow and hill: EARLY DAWN. The point of one white star is quivering still · Reflects it; now it wanes: it gleams again As the waves fade, and as the burning threads Of woven cloud unravel in pale air: 'Tis lost! and through yon peaks of cloud-like snow The roseate sunlight quivers: hear I not The Æolian music of her sea-green plumes MORNING. Methought among the lawns together We wandered, underneath the young, gray dawn, And the white dew on the new-bladed grass, Just piercing the dark earth, hung silently. NIGHT. How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh, Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear, That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, So stainless, that their white and glittering spires A metaphor of peace; all form a scene AIR CHARIOTS. The rocks are cloven, and through the purple night And now, even now, they clasped it. Their bright locks Sweep onward. THE AVALANCHE. Hark! the rushing snow! The sun-awakened avalanche! whose mass, Thrice sifted by the storm, had gathered there * As thought by thought is piled, till some great truth Shaken to their roots, as do the mountains now. WINTER. It was a winter such as when birds die MUSIC. My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float While all the winds with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, forever Upon that many winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses! This passage is from The Prometheus Unbound, a drama founded on the early Greek mythology, in which there is a strife between Jupiter, the ruler of heaven, and Prometheus, the friend of humanity. "Heaven-defying" is here used as an epithet of praise, applied to those who resist oppression. CXXV.-LABOR AND POVERTY. CARLYLE. [THOMAS CARLYLE was born in Dumfriesshire, in Scotland, in 1796, and has resided for many years in or near London. While quite young, he wrote several spe for Brewster's Edinburgh Encyclopædia; but he first began to attract attention by his contributions to the Edinburgh Review, and especially by an admirable paper on Burns. Ho rose by degrees into great popularity and commanding influence as a writer, but was known and valued at an earlier period in America tuan at home. His works are quite numerous: among them are a Life of Schiller, Sartor Resartus.* a History of the French Revolution, Past and Present, Heroes and Hero-worship, Latter Day Pamphlets, a Life of Sterling, The Life and Letters of Cromwell, Chartism, and several volumes of contributions to periodical literature. Carlyle is an original thinker, and a powerful writer. His early and familiar acquaintance with the literature of Germany has given a peculiar character to his style, by which some are repelled and some are attracted; the latter being now the larger part. Portions of his later writings read like literal translations from the German. He is fond of odd turns of expression, and has a family of pet words, which he introduces on all occasions. His style is thus very marked, and never to be mistaken for that of any other author. His writings are not easy reading at first; but those who like them at all like them much. Carlyle's mind embodies the principle of protest and dissent. It seems a sort of necessity with him to set his face against the spirit of the time. He has no great faith in representative assemblies; he distrusts the philanthropic and benevolent associations of the age; he doubts the unmixed good of mechanical inventions and improvements. And yet he has a deep sympathy with all who suffer. He honors truth, and inculcates stern self-reliance; he reverences greatness, and acknowledges the divine right of power. His writings push this last doctrine too far, and give up too much the rights of the weak to the power of the strong. He seems inclined to justify every thing that a great man does, simply because he is great. His very able book on Cromwell is open to this objection. Carlyle's writings will richly repay those who have learned to like or even not to dislike his quaint and rugged style. In all matters requiring research, he is very thorough and exact. He has a great power of picturesque and animated painting. His accounts of the opening of the States General, of the death of Mirabeau, and of the king's flight to Varennes-all in The History of the French Revolution — are instances of this. He abounds in pungent, biting humor, which gleams up through his rough sentences like seams of fire through the rifts of a volcanic soil. Nor is the source of tears barred from his touch. The article on Johnson, in his miscellaneous writings, is one of the most pathetic and deep-hearted productions that ever was written. The following extract is from his Sartor Resartus, one of his early works, containing a variety of speculations on life and literature, in the form of a biography of an Imaginary German professor.] Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil-worn craftsman, that with earth-made implement laboriously con * Two Latin words, meaning "the tailor patched." There is a good deal of humor in the book on the subject of dress and clothes. quers the earth, and makes her man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand; crooked, coarse, wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the sceptre of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather-tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a man living manlike. O, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because we must pity as well as love thee! Hardlyentreated brother! For us was thy back so bent; for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou wert our conscript, on whom the lot fell, and fighting our battles wert so marred. For in thee, too, lay a God-created form, but it was not to be unfolded; incrusted must it stand with the thick adhesions and defacements of labor; and thy body, like thy soul, was not to know freedom. Yet toil on, toil on; thou art in thy duty, be out of it who may; thou toilest for the altogether indispensable for daily bread. A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life. Is not he, too, in his duty; struggling towards inward harmony; revealing this, by act or by word, through all his outward endeavors, be they high or low? Highest of all when his outward and his inward endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers heaven for us! If the poor and humble toil that we have food, must not the high and glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance, freedom, immortality? These two, in all their degrees, I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. Unspeakably touching is it, however, when I find both dig nities united; and he that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a peasant saint, could such now any where be met with. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of earth, like a light shining in great darkness. |