Blest in retirement, scorn the frowns of fate,
And feel a transport power can ne'er create."
Touching the poem from which these lines are taken, we remember being shown the only copy of the published book which was known to exist, by the family of the Judge. The Assistant Librarian (who was born for his station in all that regards enthusiastic love of his duties), of the Harvard College library, showed us, with great triumph, a small sheep-bound volume, entitled "Solitude and other Poems, by Joseph Story," printed sometime in the commencement of this century: saying, "the Judge has burned all the copies he can pick up, and this is only to be read here." This poem was a sore subject to the author. He viewed it as not[pg 180] only a blot upon his dignity, but an annoyance to his professional fame. Numerous critics have laughed at it; but apart from the shorter poems, the main theme showed much aptitude of poetic imagery, invention, and harmony of expression. Glance at the following lines, which contain much of the genuine spark:
"Till nature's self the Vandal torch should raise,
And the vast alcove of creation blaze."
Or this—
"Blaze the vast domes inwrought with fretted gold,
The sumptuous pavements veins or pearl unfold,
Arch piled on arch with columned pride ascend,
Grove linked to grove their mingling shadows blend."