Compare the second stanza of the above poem with the poem "A DEAD FRIEND" by Norman Cɛle, (Vic. An.page 585) Notice the grandeur and reverence of the poem "IN MEMORY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR." (Vic. An. pare 419.) Lines written on the thought "WHEN I AM DEAD," carry, in the Elizabethan poems, the thought of a longing to be forgotten if it will cause any pain or grief to those dear ones left behind. See Sonnet "NO LONGER MOURN FOR ME," by Shake speare, (Schelling pare S5), and "DIRGE OF LOVE" by Shake speare, (Schelling page 122). The Victorian loved to think that his spirit would come back to the loved of earth: "I, following late behind you, In wingless sleepless flight, See "WHEN I AM DEAD" by Rennell Rodd, (Vic. An. page 564). We can never imagine an Elizabethan writing of a sovereign weeping, yet it seems not at all out of place to find a little Victorian poem entitled "INPERATOR AUGUSTUS" by Rennell Rodd, in which the sovereign is weeping "because a little child had died." See (Vic. An. page 564). The dead are gone and yet they abide with us. This thought was as a " precious jewel" to the Elizabethan. Se "THEY ARE ALL GONE," by Henry Vaughn, "SONGS OF THREE CENTURIES," page 33. Note the utter contrast in spirit of "THE DEAD," by Kathilde Blind, (Vic. An. page 522). The epitaphs of the Elizabethans lauded the deeds of fane and praised the beauty and accomplishments of the dead. See the following: "ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY," by Francis Beaumont, (Schelling, page 171); "EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH L.H.," by Ben Jonson, (Schelling, page 182); "AN EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY," by Ben Jonson, (Schelling, page 127). The Victorian epitaphs have no note of laudation and they are generally written in the first person. See "EPI TAPH INSCRIBED ON A ROCK ABOVE THE GRAVE OF LEVI LINCOLN THAXTER," by Browning, (Vic. An. page 364). Sometimes hope and doubt are expressed, as in the poen, "AFTERWARDS," by Lady Currie, (Vic. An. page 296) we find this ending: "For these I would that on a sculptur'd stone, With these words cary'd, 'I hop'd, but was not In the Victorian lyrics we sometimes have the simplest and most commonplace subjects treated in a manner to appeal to our tenderest emotions. While there is nothing sad in the subject itself, a touching story will be connected with it, and the seemingly unimpressive little lyric affects to tears all who read. Such are recognized as strikingly Victorian and we should never find such a one among the Elizabethan collections. THE CRADLE By Austin Dobson (Vic. An. page 486) "How steadfastly she worked at it! With all her would-be-mother's wit How longingly she'd hung on it!- Ile came at last, the tiny guest, That rosy nest he never prest... |