Waters shall catch thine image; thy green wings
Fanning with music the sweet forest airs,
Shall bear thee where the reddening wood-rose springs
Amid the moss and sunshine. Thou shalt fare
Upon the glossy seeds when they are ripe
On their long stems, beside the streamlet's bed,
And on thy scarlet jacket thou shalt wipe
Thy shining bill when thou hast freely fed
Upon the river-plum and mountain-cherry red.
IV.
Welcome thou art unto my lattice; here
In safety thou may'st smooth thy velvet hood,
And sip the summer-sweets without a fear,
With the sweet winds thy gentle sisterhood.
Ay! thou art welcome; nor would I in vain
Take lesson from thine own meek history;
But when the hazy summer comes again
To these wide woods, may'st thou no stranger be
Among those friends which are my best society.
Utica, August, 1843.
[LITERARY NOTICES.]
The Politicians, a Comedy: in Five Acts. By Cornelius Mathews. pp. 118. New-York: Printed for the Author.
Poems on Man, in his various Aspects under the American Republic. By Cornelius Mathews. In one volume, pp. 112. New-York: Printed for the Author, and for sale at Wiley and Putnam's and other metropolitan Book-stores.
The Career of Puffer Hopkins. Published in the 'serial form,' from the office of the 'Brother Jonathan.'
In a notice some four years since in these pages of the 'Motley Book'[B] by the author of the above-named productions, we expressed our conviction, and gave the grounds for our belief, that Mr. Mathews had mistaken his vocation; that he exhibited a mind capacious enough of vague dreams and dim similitudes of humor, but that there was no naturalness in his descriptions, and no distinctness in his pictures; that his observation of men and things was cursory and superficial, and that his style was of such a character that the reader was often led to doubt whether he always affixed any very precise idea to the language which he employed. We excepted from these remarks, we remember, a serious sketch or two of the writer, 'The Potters'-Field,' and 'The Unburied Bones,' as evincing a degree of spirit and pathos, which justified us in counselling him, if he must needs write, to confine his literary efforts to that species of composition. Since the period to which we have referred, Mr. Mathews has continued to write and print, with great industry and perseverance, what he must have considered works of humor and satire; but we are sorry to be compelled to add, without exhibiting the slightest improvement. Like Michael Cassio, Mr. Mathews, when he sits down to pen, ink, and paper, 'sees a mass of objects, but nothing distinctly.' He has a large grasp of small things, without selection and without cohesion; his ideas, if they may be called ideas, are often diffuse, pointless, and apparently aimless; and it is impossible for any intelligent reader to resist the conclusion that his 'wit's diseased,' in one sense, at least. Let us take, as an illustration of the justice of our animadversions, the 'Comedy' whose title stands first at the head of this notice. From the strutting boldness of the language in the preface, the reader is led to conclude, evidently with the author, that an 'American dramatist' has at last arisen, who is to present the proof that 'America contains within itself material quite adequate for any class of literary productions;' that there is 'no lack of materials for comedy in our country and among ourselves;' and that here we have a dramatic attempt which is to furnish 'countenance to the Cause of true National Literature.' In consonance with Mr. Mathews's own opinions of his 'Comedy,' is his modest request that nobody should 'interfere with his privileges as its author, or prevent him from deriving such emoluments from its representation as are equitably his due.' Probability rather favors the conclusion, we think, that no person ever did! The writer adds, also, that he 'would be greatly rejoiced' if the play should be 'the thing' to awaken the National Legislature to a 'realizing sense' of its duty in the matter of international copy-right! Such is the character of the introduction to the public of the 'Comedy' before us. Now for a taste of its quality.
The first act opens with a dialogue between a political candidate and his 'chum' touching 'the use of a church-bell' to bring out the voters, who are to be wrought upon by an announcement of the fact that 'the steeple is in the hands of their party,' whose ticket is to be 'spread on the weather-cock.' After a discussion of various modes of catching voters, which we should be glad to have the reader see, but which we must 'respectfully decline' to quote, we come to the annexed characteristic specimen of our author's wit. Stand aside, reader; for the text says: 'Enter Botch:'