"Criticism" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

And glorious ages gone
Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb.

are, to us, disagreeable. Such things are common, but at best,
repulsive. In the present case there is not even the merit of
illustration. The womb, in any just imagery, should be spoken of
with a view to things future; here it is employed, in the sense of the
tomb, and with a view to things past. In Stanza XI the idea is even
worse. The allegorical meaning throughout the poem, although generally
well sustained, is not always so. In the quatrain

Thine for a space are they
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;
Thy gates shall yet give way
Thy bolts shall fall inexorable Past!

it seems that The Past, as an allegorical personification, is
confounded with Death.

The Old Man's Funeral is of seven stanzas, each of six lines- four
Pentameters and Alexandrine rhyming. At the funeral of an old man
who has lived out his full quota of years, another, as aged,
reproves the company for weeping. The poem is nearly perfect in its
way- the thoughts striking and natural- the versification singularly
sweet. The third stanza embodies a fine idea, beautifully expressed.

Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled,
His glorious course rejoicing earth and sky,
In the soft evening when the winds are stilled,
Sings where his islands of refreshment lie,
And leaves the smile of his departure spread
O'er the warm-colored heaven, and ruddy mountain head.

The technical word chronic should have been avoided in the fifth
line of Stanza VI-

No chronic tortures racked his aged limb.

The Rivulet has about ninety octo-syllabic verses. They contrast the
changing and perishable nature of our human frame, with the greater
durability of the Rivulet. The chief merit is simplicity. We should
imagine the poem to be one of the earliest pieces of Mr. Bryant, and
to have undergone much correction. In the first paragraph are,
however, some awkward constructions. In the verses, for example

This little rill that from the springs
Of yonder grove its current brings,
Plays on the slope awhile, and then
Goes prattling into groves again.