A GARLAND OF SONNETS By CRAVEN LANGSTROTH Bl.TF LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Cliap. Copyright No._li_^__0( t. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. A GARLAND OF SONNETS A GARLAND OF SONNETS BY / CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS In Praise of the Poets INGOMAR—Of what use are garlands} PARTHENIA— Their use is to be fair. Imprinted for and Published by M. F. MANSFIELD AND A. WESSELS, at 1135 Broadway, New York ANNO DOMINI, MDCCCXCIX. \ <(^'^f^^'^ \^ Copyright, 1899, by M. F. Mansfield and A. Wessels New York TWO COPIES RECEIVED, Library of CoTngresi^ Office of th« Register of Copyrlght«^ JAN 3 1901 lo O O ^ O CONTENTS HOMER CHAUCER TASSO SPENSER . MARLOWE SHAKESPERE MILTON DRYDEN POPE . BURNS SCOTT BYRON KEATS SHELLEY COLERIDGE WORDSWORTH HOOD . i SCHILLER . xviii ii GOETHE xix iii BERANGER XX iv HUGO . xxi V TENNYSON xxii vi BROWNING xxiii vii ARNOLD xxiv viii BAYARD TAYLOR XXV ix EMERSON . xxvi X LONGFELLOW . xxvii xi LOWELL . . xxviii xii WHITTIER xxix xiii WHITMAN XXX xiv MORRIS xxxi XV KIPLING . xxxii xvi Kvii MISTRAL . L'ENVOI xxxiii To TITUS mUNSON COAN True poetf fine critic, and genial friend* FOREWORD Child of Petrarch and the lyric muse, thou wert born in the days of Chivalry and Romance, and all thy earliest youth was touched by Love. Angelo, the immortal, found for thee a deeper note, and the magnificent Lorenzo gave thee added grace. Next, those twins of English rhyme, Surrey and Wyatt, rescued thee from the neglect of Fame, and nourished thee on English ground. •♦ The gentle Spenser loved thee," and the high-born Sydney was thy servitor. But thy crowning glory was to be the guest of Shakespere, the Prince of Song. He took from thee thy Italian mantle and decked thee in his own royal robes. No man shall henceforth do thee ampler honor. Under the hand of the mighty Milton thou obtained an organ tone — thy note of Reverence and Prayer. But the degenerate children of English Song abjured thee or gave but grudging habitation, until Wordsworth, Priest of Nature, ushered thee into his calm and stately cloisters. There thy plastic soul took on fresh harmonies and delights ; new aspirations, fair hopes, sweet consolations and confidings. In thy turn thou becamest a teacher of men ; and henceforth thou must remain the favored heir of the English Muse. It behooves not to tell of all the illustrious masters who have taken thee to their hearts. The Old World still loves thy ordered walk, and the New has opened wide its doors and enriched thee. To each hast thou spoken in a different key, for thy nature is variant as the flowers of mountain and field, of garden and forest. Of all the children of Song, I, dwelling in the strict bonds of rhyme, love thee best, for, if thou demandest much, thy favors are bountiful to them who worthily seek thee. But for them not of the true Brotherhood, wilt thou dig a pit- fall and cover the pretender and the careless wooer with shame. Therefore, O Sonnet, may my feet tread reverently in thy service, and in the name of these Masters be all this my cherishing of thee — so shalt thou obtain the larger honor and I perchance a favor more sweet. For my offering I bespeak the good-will of all true votaries of the Muse, and of all others who worship and love her but have been holden from bringing gifts to her shrine. In their hands I leave thee, beloved Sonnet, my companion and the solace of my heart! C. L. B. The thanks of the Author are due to the ** Outlook'* {Ne»»lM»».ll i . i * / i 1 SCHILLER Both lyric wreath and Thespian crown w^ere thine, And thine the Germans' pledge from mount to sea; For thy first thought, io make the people free. Was for those hungering souls Love's corn and wine. The hapless Mary's hope illumes thy line, 'While W^allenstein's dark form abides with me Since, when a lad, I laid upon my knee Thy heart, all throbbing through its leathern shrine. The nations' tocsin thine ! Thy Bell is heard On distant shores scarce known to thee by name ; The deathless cadence of Tell's dauntless word. Hath wed the Switzer's Fatherland to fame ; W^hile Swabian youths, by thy bold measures stirred. Their proud old Eberhard's liberties proclaim ! XVIII GOETHE The great Age crowns thee — then no chaplet may Enrich thy brow, much less this wreath I twine, O Liberator Soul ! Thou dost define And hold life's secrets in wise-guarded sway; And yet thy art looms amplest, and thy lay Pours forth enlightening flame ; and as the Rhine Ripples to sea, thy human-pulsing line Speeds world round, broadening its imperial way. Goetz, W^ilhelm Meister, Faust — no haughtier themes By w^izard genius e'er conceived or penned ! These will not cease *' to feed our lake of dreams," Nor will churl Time outbrave them at the end. Thought — Love — inwoven thus thy laurel gleams ; Poet and Seer — yea, wisest, truest Friend ! XIX BERANGER (At the Coronation of Charles X.). Yes, there he stands — you mark him down the street, Yon dream-eyed, little, bald, round-shouldered man ! While Paris thrums her live-long rataplan Of loud huzzas and million-surging feet. Tyrtaeus bold is he, Catullus sweet ! Or well had passed in Tempe's Vale for Pan In modern garb ; draw^ nearer now^ and scan The form of one whom kings have feared to meet ! Ay, sirs, here is the king! That shape who goes. All drums and trappings merely stuffs the crow^n ; Here rusty black and there the ermine shows ; The throne's a candle for our clerk's renown ; His galley to^vard the hungry Maelstrom rows ; Thy shallop storms nor hidden rocks may drown ! XX. HUGO Though banished, Prosper©, to thy mid-sea isle. Power thou retaind'st most ample ; thou could'st call Thy choiring Ariel, or sea-monsters haul From sounding caves by magic's strenuous wile, Or storms unchain, or make the ocean smile, Holding the hearts and minds of men in thrall; Yet Jeanne, Miranda, dearer far than all Thy art, could aye thy darkest hour beguile. Beyond the surge thy natal dukedom lay. Dominion of brave hearts ; thy dreaming eye Watched with paternal longing day by day. Its outline, w^here pale shadows rise and die, 'Till fell the usurper ; then resumed thy sway, And freed thy passionate slaves of sea and sky. XXI. TENNYSON Thy fame stands wide as England's ! If I lay One song-'wreath at thy feet, 'tis not to grace So much thy triumphs, or thy high-throned place Amongst the minstrels of the modern day. As to confess thy erstwhile sovereign sw^ay O'er my affections ; thine was once a space Near Shakespere ; if thy lushness cloy apace. Thy charm may change but cannot pass away. Thou art our own King Arthur — I, a knight Unscutcheoned, speeding for the lists of fame ; Content to w^in, when proved, some slight acclaim From lips like thine ; unwilling most to fail In service and in vigil ; armor bright Besumeth him who quests the Holy Grail. XXII. BROWNING The tangled currents of the rhythmic seas Stream through thy song with many a swirl and sweep ; "With storm and cloud and sunshine o'er the deep, And bright waves lapping to the variant breeze. Thou hast conned secrets 'tween Jove's mighty knees, And kenned the vision of life's toiling steep, And heard the strong men groan, the women weep. And drank earth's gloom and glory to the lees. What though thy careless hand hath jarred the strings. Thy harp still rings to Thought and Beauty true ; Though from Italian earth thy phoenix springs. Her gaze strikes over to the English blue. O, teacher, brave and wise, the proudest things Of Faith and Love, through fire have come from you ! XXIII. ARNOLD The World denied thee gold — Heaven gave thee verse; A burst of morn on Learning's peaks of snow ! Under sweeps ever Emotion's tidal flow Where Love her luminous chalice doth immerse. Nature and Art, these twain, thy mother and nurse, Formed thee to live, through thy grand age to grow ; Sonorous, pure, their mingled clarions blow, Unchecked by Time or Change, above thy hearse. Sohrab and Rustem, Tristram, Marguerite — The twain of Homer's large, authentic breed; The third, Love's Knight, faithful in word and deed ; The last. Love's perfect flower — a kindred sweet ! These for thy fame, O royal palmer, plead. And lay their chaplets blooming at thy feet ! XXIV. BAYARD TAYLOR Here find the poet's scrip, — his ready pen, The staff of service on his pilgrim round, Now laid aside ; for he in sleep is bound, No more to wander through the ways of men ; But these his furnishings, ingathered when He traveled all Arcadia's laurelled ground, The cheer and nurture of his journey found, He hath bequeathed them to the world again. Herein note Love, his crust of daily bread, Romance, his flask of wine, and Reverie sweet. The rich-chased missal brought from Orient clime ; Here also Hope, his belt, and from his head His scallop-shell of Fancy ; from his feet The rythmic sandals of his passion. Rhyme ! XXV. r^~~ EMERSON Voice of the deeps thou art ! But not the wild, Ungoverned mouthing of the wind-lashed waves ; Nor yet the dirge of billows over graves, But crooning, like a mother o'er her child. Through thee gross earth with heaven is reconciled, Thy songs, like anthems through cathedral naves Dispel confusing passion ; never raves The storm along thy cloisters undefiled. Light of the deeps thou art ! as forth I glide. From rock and whirlpool far, and tempest's roar. Sudden there looms an ever verdurous shore. Whose towers in the still wave stand glorified. Where thou, the Virgil, who hast been my guide, Lead'st me and leav'st me rapt, at Heaven's door ! XXVI. y LONGFELLOW The New-W^orld's sweetest singer! Time mayjlay Rude touch on some, thy betters, yet for thee. Thy seat is where the throned immortals be. The chaste affections answering to thy sway. As fair, as fresh as children of the May, Thy verse springs up from wood and sun-bathed lea, Yet oft the rhythmic cadence of the sea Rolls 'neath thy song and speeds its shining way. Thy borrowed robes, even, thou wear'st with grace ; Such grace our English buckram seldom yields ; Through thee the grave Italian takes his place Among us ; but across Acadian fields W^ho is it moves with rapt and pensive face ? Evangeline, his heart thy love reveals ! XXVII. LOWELL Poet, who bore thy crown of seventy^years As greenly as the chaplet of thy lays, Who from thy throne of thought o'erlooked the maze Of human life, high lifting midst thy peers Heaven-lighted minstrel brows, no envious shears Of fate may clip thy laurels, but the bays Fame will twine with them, grow through winter days. Sunned in our smiles and w^atered w^ith our tears. Not to the craftsman merely, nor the calm, Keen-sighted critic, nor the patriot stirred With passion, do our grateful hearts belong — But to the new Crusader with his palm And cross of valiant service, view^ed and heard Through the long, vow-knit vigil of his song. XXVIII. W H I T T I E R Thy call was Freedom's loudest — 'neaththat blast (Down crashed the w^alls of Slavery's Jericho ! (Beware, ye proud, the fighting Quaker's blow, When once he strikes ye w^ell may stand aghast ! ) Now all those storms are far forspent and past, Thy martial trumpet forth intuned to peace. While still to bring the courts of Heaven increase. Those olive blooms of song abroad were cast. O, strong and faithful w^atchman — may this state In memory long that lifted warning keep ! Thy strenuous voice hath given us bonds to fate ; W^e dread no harm while we thy blessing reap ; Old age, 'twas never thine — a warm, sedate, A mellow^ sunset brooded o'er thy sleep ! XXIX. h.l»Mi«M«^ f: - ^ s^^ r WHITMAN In him, prophetic mind and cosmic heart 'With common human speech were reconciled, Heed not the jargon tongue, the phrase defiled, The roughened hand, ignoring forms of art. Nay, from his breast what yearning sighs depart ! Hark how those vibrant tones grow pure and mild ! While with the boundless impulse of the Child His Earth-song rises and the echoes start. What sentient wind makes answer ? 'Tis thy breath Borne round these shores, O Queen Democracy ! Such of those souls w^ho throned thee, kept thee free ; Of such their faith more potent far than death : Ay, not in vain ! whate'er the Preacher saith. The horn of Odin blows and men are free ! XXX. MORRIS Chaucer and Spenser, gather him to your heart, The burly Radical of dreamy rhyme ! And crown him with the Trouvere's bay sublime, That ne'er till now had graced the British mart ; For even to him the story-teller's art Came glamorous out of Fancy's buoyant clime, The mintage of that golden ore of time From the world's childhood ; for he voiced in part Your mid-sea s^vaying melodies, the breath Of pastoral lands, of flow^ery meads, and meres. And your pale, poignant picturing of death. And your dear, tender ruth for love in tears. No idle singer, he, whate'er he saith; His pilgrim torch relumes the shadowed years ! XXXI. c 1 ---7^ K.. / /f^ , V f i ■■;i \ i KIPLING The East hath reared her Viking ! lo, he comes Lfaurelled with- victory to the purpled West, Voicing the proud, vexed century's unrest, With fifes, harps, sackbuts, psalteries, and drums. His galley, pitched with rare and odorous gums, Floats far the Dragon o'er the billow's crest ; 'Neath bellying sail his round world keel is pressed ; The Empire trade-wind through its cordage hums. No vassal laureate he ! he w^ears the crown Of English hearts, the roses never sere ; The rooted loves that bloom in bold renown ; Those sheaves of promise ripening in the ear ; The pledge of birthright nations ! 'gainst the frow^n Of Fate herself, stands England's faith writ clear ! XXXII. J MISTRAL O fair Provence, thou land of corn and wine ! Provence, thou sweet, sweet home of Love and Song ! In arts, in arms, in princely feeling strong, Once more the dream of Poesy is thine ! Thine is the latest Troubadour whose line From Ronsard runs in honor ; of that throng King gleeman, who still w^ind their pipes along From tow^ered Avignon to Camargue's blue brine. Mereio, of Death the dearest bride. Thy love and grief for aye, for aye are sung ! The Homer of his cherished vineyard side. His heart still tender, bountiful, and young, Swells bold with song, with more than Roman pride — The brave Horatius of his native tongue ! XXXIII. LofC. L 'ENVOI To Sha.ke.spere, If I ha'he earned some farvour of good men. Or if my song hold aught of just or true. This happy fortune to thy grace is due. Who things unseen hast brought