The manger here doth now appear As much despised by man; They cannot see the mystery clear - The servant cannot come No greater here for to appear - Than was her Lord before; And like the Jews the Gentiles are, And open every pore. Do I not see as well as thee Thy poverty despised? For like the Jews the Gentiles be, And pride hath dimmed their eyes. So now take care, I warn you here, The natural branch did fall; Then the wild olive sure must fear, If none can judge the call.
The style of the verse in general is not, perhaps, one that we, with our modern ideas and prejudices, would have chosen, but there is great wisdom in this simplicity, although it does not at first appear. When you consider the volumes of printed matter and other MSS. The prose alternating with the verse, I, myself, find very restful; and the truths taught are so weighty and important, that if they were not clothed in this simple style it would be very hard work to follow the meaning, especially so for those unaccustomed to study.
As in the old days, "the common people heard Him gladly," and so it must be written that all can understand, if they will. Respecting the occasional grammatical errors, they were only according to Joanna's own manner of speaking, and did not grate on her ear, but seemed harmonious.
In all ages God has, in speaking to His servants, used a phraseology to which the recipient was accustomed; otherwise it would have been more irksome to have carried on the work. The use at times of the nominative he for the objective him is often condoned in writers when it is a question of rhyme. The New Testament itself was written in the vernacular, so that the masses might be reached. The subjoined is a good specimen of the despised doggerel hiding a beautiful and perfect metaphor. It is in common metre, and the lines were given to Joanna by the S PIRIT in answer to some one, who had heard her writings, and said, How far imagination would go!
Now to reason I'll begin - Imagination's here; Can they imagine such a thing Or see the mystery clear, That e'er such writings came from thee? How blindly all do err! Their hearts or thoughts can ne'er go deep And nothing do discern. I said before they were asleep Imagine all a dream; Though seemed awake they are asleep, Imagine all a dream, And think they see a simple sheep With worms got in her brain, That swarm around, her senses drowned, As from the flock she strayed, Believing she doth hear a sound, And by that sound she's led; And as her fancy wildly leads, She simply doth go on; The shepherds know not where she's strayed, Her tracks are too far gone; The bleating of the sheep they hear, But cannot trace the sound.
Like simple shepherds they may gaze, But let them search the ground; Then in the pasture fair and green They'll surely find the sheep; And by the living water stream They'll find her at the brink, Where she doth quench her raging thirst, And they may do the same; For though she's beaten from the rest, She's in My pasture come. Then now, ye shepherds, stand amazed, And view your long-lost sheep; For on the pasture you may gaze, And taste the brook she drinks; 'Tis large and fair the brook is here, The trees are by the side; And though she'th lost the shepherds' care, The boughs the sun do hide To screen her from the scorching sun That in summer doth appear And mark the pasture she is in, When winter doth appear The leaves so green, it must be seen, Do closely on her come, And seated by the L IVING S TREAM She daily feeds thereon.
See how the banks on every side Secure your long-lost sheep, And mark the fountain by her side That she doth daily drink. The trees more fair, I tell you here, Than in your gardens be; Such pasture you have never seen, If you will come and see, And mark the banks on every side No enemy can come; The lion's roaring for his prey, It must to all be known; But that is on the other side, He frightens with his noise; But mark the banks, and see the tide, And hear the lonely voice: Unto the rocks she doth complain To screen her from his power - And I'm the rock she builds upon, That he cannot devour.
Mark where she stands, and view the lands, And see how all is placed. But if I change her to a bird, See how she'th built her nest It is so high that none can fly To rob her of her brood; The fowler's net can ne'er come by, The shotsman missed his load; Though heavy pieces, I do know, Men have raised to their breast, But are afraid to let them go, For fear they should be cast, As men do fear I may be there, And terror strikes with awe.
I've kept her from the fowler's snare, And that they all shall know; 'Tis Me they dread, or she'd been dead, I say, for long ago; For deep's the blow, I well do know, Men have raised to their breast, But were afraid to let it go, And know they must be cast, If I should come and then demand Why they should spoil My game. I'll take her from the fowler's hand, And put mankind to shame; Unless like he, they fearful be For to discharge their load, That they are levelling so at thee, And fear a powerful God. So if she's high then let her fly, And take your charge away; But if she soars too proudly here, Her shotsman I will be; I'll bring her low, they all shall know, If she doth soar too high: And if, beyond My bounds she go She'll have no wings to fly; I'll bring her low, you all shall know, And she hath nought to boast; For had I left her to herself She'd stumbled like the rest.
These two are beautiful examples of sustained metaphor in the despised doggerel. It is continued by a third on heirship, which I feel constrained to quote, and then the three are interwoven at the end like the conclusion of a melodious symphony. But as your land by heirship stands, She is the perfect heir; For 'tis unknown to every man What her forefathers were; Ere she was born, it must be known, The Promise there was made; And she'th fulfilled her mother's will When on her dying bed.
So where's the man will dare condemn The thing that I have done?
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Then I will act the same by he And rob him of his land. So now offences will come on, Men's hearts will swell too high, And say My Kingdom cannot come By such low worm as thee, But perfect like the Jews of old The Gentiles will begin: The rich and great will still be bold, And so deny the thing; But then their pride it must come down - By pride the Angels fell; And 'twas the pride in Herod's heart That brought his soul to hell: The babes he murdered all for Me, But he did miss the mark.
This is a hidden mystery - The proud are in the dark; And shall I swell them up more high, To choose the rich and great, When they did never honour Me? Now look at Pilate's seat.
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So now with men I'll even come, And bring their honour low; For 'tis the meek I now will seek, And there My goodness show. Thou sayest thou art amazed to see The simple heads of men; And I should be amazed like thee, Did I not know the chain, That Satan holds them by his power And will not let them go; He guards in their unguarded hours, And that I well do know; For if like lambs your flocks do stand, Watched by the shepherd's care, The fox is hovering round the land To watch his absence there. His haunt's unknown to every man, The night he gets his prey For when he sees the shepherd's gone, He steals My lambs away.
So now with Minifie I'll end - Beforehand none can see Behind hand with the cunning fox My shepherds surely be. Therefore beware and guard with care, Or all your flock you'll lose; You little think the fox so near, As he is on your coast: But if his haunts you will find out, Then come to your lost sheep, And all his footsteps you may trace When you were fast asleep; And see the Rock she climbed upon When she beheld him near, And warned your flock to flee the same When they behold him there - Then like the bird you may escape Out of the fowler's net; For if the dark side he doth beat I tell you to fly up.
Ere she was born, it must be known, The Promise there was made; And she'th fulfilled her mother's will When on her dying bed,.
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That she was born in Devon is said to fulfil a prophecy in the Song of Solomon viii. The reference to Minifie is to a Mrs. Minifie, who was Joanna's earliest friend and believer: she could not understand how the Lord would condescend to such trifles in the lives of men, and laughed at the idea of explanations of such small matters as coming from Him. I am devoting later a chapter specially to the life of Joanna Southcott, as doubtless there are many people who know little, if anything, of her. The metre of the poetry varies a good deal, and sometimes trochees are introduced at the beginning of several sequent lines with marked effect thus Strange Effects of Faith , p.
Sick of men's sufferings I am come of late; Sick of their sins for to bring on their fate; Sick of the folly I see in mankind; Sick of the fever that ris'th in thy mind, As no physician seeks thy wound to cure; I know thy burthen's more than thou canst bear, Did I not take from thee part of the load? A great deal is written in pentameter with rhymed couplets as above; and also as in the following Letters and Communications , p. For so the midnight hour will burst for all, And men and devils tremble at the call.
One of the most brilliant Irish scholars of his day, he has worked indefatigably for the cause of his native letters. He has written a comprehensive history of Irish literature; has compiled, edited and translated into English the Love Songs of Connaught; is President of The Irish National Literary Society; and is the author of innumerable poems in Gaelic—far more than he ever wrote in English.
His collections of Irish folk-lore and poetry were among the most notable contributions to the Celtic revival; they were see Preface , to a large extent, responsible for it. The poem which is here quoted is one of his many brilliant and reanimating translations. In its music and its peculiar rhyme-scheme, it reproduces the peculiar flavor as well as the meter of the West Irish original. A fiery young poet, she burdened her own intensity with the sorrows of her race. She wrote one novel, Reuben Sachs, and two volumes of poetry—the more distinctive of the two being half-pathetically and half-ironically entitled A Minor Poet After several years of brooding introspection, she committed suicide in at the age of Catherine at Drogheda.
She married Henry Hinkson, a lawyer and author, in Her poetry is largely actuated by religious themes, and much of her verse is devotional and yet distinctive. In New Poems she is at her best, graceful, meditative and with occasional notes of deep pathos. After receiving a classical education, he became Professor of Literature and began to write for Punch in In he was made editor of that internationally famous weekly, remaining in that capacity ever since. He was knighted in As a writer of light verse and as a parodist, his agile work has delighted a generation of admirers.
Henry Newbolt Henry Newbolt was born at Bilston in His early work was frankly imitative of Tennyson; he even attempted to add to the Arthurian legends with a drama in blank verse entitled Mordred It was not until he wrote his sea-ballads that he struck his own note.
With the publication of Admirals All his fame was widespread. The popularity of his lines was due not so much to the subject-matter of Newbolt's verse as to the breeziness of his music, the solid beat of rhythm, the vigorous swing of his stanzas. In Newbolt published The Island Race, which contains about thirty more of his buoyant songs of the sea.
source link Besides being a poet, Newbolt has written many essays and his critical volume, A New Study of English Poetry , is a collection of articles that are both analytical and alive. Arthur Symons Born in , Arthur Symons' first few publications revealed an intellectual rather than an emotional passion. Those volumes were full of the artifice of the period, but Symons's technical skill and frequent analysis often saved the poem from complete decadence. His later books are less imitative; the influence of Verlaine and Baudelaire is not so apparent; the sophistication is less cynical, the sensuousness more restrained.
His various collections of essays and stories reflect the same peculiar blend of rich intellectuality and perfumed romanticism that one finds in his most characteristic poems. Of his many volumes in prose, Spiritual Adventures , while obviously influenced by Walter Pater, is by far the most original; a truly unique volume of psychological short stories. The best of his poetry up to was collected in two volumes, Poems, published by John Lane Co.
The Fool of the World appeared in Here he became imbued with the power and richness of native folk-lore; he drank in the racy quality through the quaint fairy stories and old wives' tales of the Irish peasantry. Later he published a collection of these same stories.
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It was in the activities of a "Young Ireland" society that Yeats became identified with the new spirit; he dreamed of a national poetry that would be written in English and yet would be definitely Irish. In a few years he became one of the leaders in the Celtic revival. He worked incessantly for the cause, both as propagandist and playwright; and, though his mysticism at times seemed the product of a cult rather than a Celt, his symbolic dramas were acknowledged to be full of a haunting, other-world spirituality. The Hour Glass , his second volume of "Plays for an Irish Theatre," includes his best one-act dramas with the exception of his unforgettable The Land of Heart's Desire The Wind Among the Reeds contains several of his most beautiful and characteristic poems.
Others who followed Yeats have intensified the Irish drama; they have established a closer contact between the peasant and poet. No one, however, has had so great a part in the shaping of modern drama in Ireland as Yeats. His Deirdre , a beautiful retelling of the great Gaelic legend, is far more dramatic than the earlier plays; it is particularly interesting to read with Synge's more idiomatic play on the same theme, Deirdre of the Sorrows. The poems of Yeats which are quoted here reveal him in his most lyric and musical vein. He returned, however, to India and took a position on the staff of "The Lahore Civil and Military Gazette," writing for the Indian press until about , when he went to England, where he has lived ever since, with the exception of a short sojourn in America.
Even while he was still in India he achieved a popular as well as a literary success with his dramatic and skilful tales, sketches and ballads of Anglo-Indian life. Soldiers Three was the first of six collections of short stories brought out in "Wheeler's Railway Library. These tales, however, display only one side of Kipling's extraordinary talents.
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As a writer of children's stories, he has few living equals. Wee Willie Winkie, which contains that stirring and heroic fragment "Drums of the Fore and Aft," is only a trifle less notable than his more obviously juvenile collections. Just-So Stories and the two Jungle Books prose interspersed with lively rhymes are classics for young people of all ages. Kim, the novel of a super-Mowgli grown up, is a more mature masterpiece. Considered solely as a poet see Preface he is one of the most vigorous and unique figures of his time.
The spirit of romance surges under his realities. His brisk lines conjure up the tang of a countryside in autumn, the tingle of salt spray, the rude sentiment of ruder natures, the snapping of a banner, the lurch and rumble of the sea. His poetry is woven of the stuff of myths; but it never loses its hold on actualities.
Kipling won the Nobel Prize for Literature in His varied poems have finally been collected in a remarkable one-volume Inclusive Edition — , an indispensable part of any student's library.
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This gifted and prolific creator, whose work was affected by the war, has frequently lapsed into bombast and a journalistic imperialism. At his best he is unforgettable, standing mountain-high above his host of imitators. His home is at Burwash, Sussex. He entered on a business career soon after leaving Liverpool College, but gave up commercial life to become a man of letters after five or six years.
A little later Keats was the dominant influence, and English Poems betray how deep were Le Gallienne's admirations.
Related Eloquent Versifications: Poems My Father Left Me
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