Long, long they looked—but never spied
His welcome step again.
Nor knew the fearful death he died
Far down that narrow glen.
THE BATTLEFIELD.
Soon after the following poem was written, an English critic, referring to the stanza [♦]beginning—“Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,”—said: “Mr. Bryant has certainly a rare merit for having written a stanza which will bear comparison with any four lines as one of the noblest in the English language. The thought is complete, the expression perfect. A poem of a dozen such verses would be like a row of pearls, each beyond a king’s ransom.”
[♦] ‘begining’ replaced with ‘beginning’
NCE this soft turf, this rivulet’s sands,