THE LUMP OF GOLD, AND OTHER POEMS.

Lyttelton Times, Volume VI, Issue 404, 17 September 1856, Page 2

THE LUMP OF GOLD, AND OTHER POEMS.

By Chaules Mackay, Routledgo and Co. (From a review in the " Guardian.") Mr, Mackay is styled, we believe, the " poej; of the people," par excellence; but we cannot discover from the volume before us upon what special quality this title is founded. We look in vain for the discontented vanity, and the mean and captious cynicism, which are too often disguised under the pretence of zeal for the commonality and the advocacy of popular rights. But if by this title it be meant that Mr. Mackay has risen by his own-exertions, and without the assistance of birth or wealth, to the position which he now holds—or if it be implied that his poems are generally read by " the people" —we can only congratulate that order on having produced such a poet, or on having the good taste to appreciate his writings. It is true he tells the honest labourer to 'stand up,' to respect himself, to fear God only; but it is not self-respect and the fear of God on the part of the poor that has ever endangered crown ofr coro..et; but, on the contrary, that wanfr-^jf self-respect which makes the poor value the accidents of rank and station too highly, and resolve, because they cannot possess these gifts of fortune, that nobody else shall When Mr. Mackay tells the English labourer to respect himself, he is effectually co-operating with Lord Albermarle, Lord Wodehouse, Lord Derby, and every other nobleman who is endeavouring to ameliorate the condition of the peasantry, by building them commodious cottages, educating their children, and providing them churches where they: may worship God on an equality with their richer neighbours. And whoever he may be, whether a noßleman or a ' poet of the people' who succeeds in diminishing the sense of inferiority which weighs so heavily on the poor in England, that man is so far strengthening the position of the aristocracy, and adding stability to our institutions. But there is another peculiarity, we fear it must be called, in these poems, which deserves the highest credit. They are. not only free.from every taint of vice, but their whole tendency is exalted and good. It seems a truism to say that poetry, which is inspired by the higher sentiments of, our nature, is itself higher than that which has its origin in sensuality. Aud yet, how many great geniuses have deliberately chosen to rest their fame upon works which can only corrupt the imagination and •degrade humanity. It gives us, therefore, unmixed satisfaction to find a poet who aspires to write for ' the. people,' se.tti^sr^ before him, as the guiding-star of his powers, the Kalos Kagatkos, the pursuit of the noble and the good. The book opens with a poem entitled ' The Lump of Gold.' A stranger is seen roaming through the streets of London at midnight iv a state of despair, and all the images which impart such a character of utter loneliness to the thoroughfares of our metropolis at this season are called up to add effect to the picture of human misery :— • Onwards, still onwards! But whither ? Who knows ? Where the lights quiver By the black river Thither he goes! Frenzy goes with him, His council and guide,; A phantom, a spectre, She'stalks by his side. " Idiot," she whispers, " Seest thou the end ? Self-respect flies from thee Death is thy irie.ud ; Nothing is left thee !" Deep from his heart Came a denial, — " O tempter, depart; She may remain to me!" " Fool that thou art I

if Hast thou a truth to give f' Pure as of yore? ;-f What shall her broken trust i' Ever restore ? ■| Live, and she'll hate thee ; — f Die, —she'll deplore ; £ Angel that loved thee once, f Lost evermore." Ii . • In gold and in purple • In amber and grey Under the steeple-vanes ; Eastward away Over the house tops , Blushed the new day. With the light of morning a vision of better things rises upon his mind, and his good angel bids him not despair :— Out from the sunshine i All answer there went, — '■ <' Hush thee, false spirit, ' ' The man shall repent, God's mercy shall save him !" ] Dear angel of love! He looked through the morning, And saw thee above; The light of thy garment's hem Dazzled the day ; 1 Soft through the purple air I Borne far away, { L Voices ecstatic -W*l- Seemed mingling to say, " The man shall not perish!" . ' The second part opens whh a pretty picture of an English hamlet, conveyed in a simple and flowing metre, well adapted to , the scene of peace which it depicts. In the ; village of Micklethorpe, "embowered amid the Surrey hills," dwells Parson Vale and i - S, tw° - dau-hters ; whose peaceful home is familiar to us in books, if not in r*al life The respectable and' benevolent country clergyman, who dees not trouble his head about high-flown theories, but does his duty : unostentatiously as a good neighbour to rich ; and poor; who superintends his con°re"-a- -/ tioii at their weekly meeting iv a picturesque ; little church, administers the consolations of religion together with soup or gruel, to the sick, and conducts his household in a style of unpretending and economical elegance, the result at once of his limited income and I fefined tastes-this is the popular English idea of the perfection of the Christian priesthood:— *

'Twas Sunday morn, and Parson Vale • Beloved of high and low, With smiles for all aienls happiness, And heart for every woe, Walked meekly to the parish church With hair as white as snowWalked meekly to his parish church Amid his daughters three. There were more angels at his side Ihan mortal eye could see — The four were seven—for with them went Faith, Hope, and Charity. Faith, Hope, and Heavenly Charity— v>., Whoe'er 'the good man taught; his text, these blessed three YYere present to his thought; He never scorned his fellow man, Or held the humblest nought • He warned the strong, he raised the weak And like his Master mild, He helped and comforted the poor 4nd loved each little child ; ' ' And mid the moil and dust of life Went forward undefiled. His eldest daughter, matron fair In beauty's perfect noon, Mature, and redolent of sweets And pleasant as a tune, Walked at his side; his ljf e ' s fc est bh Since one, perchance more dear, Had gone before him to the grave, In summer of her year, And left him memories and re ff rets And three fond hearts to cheer Sweet Lilian Vale! If some denied The splendours of her face, Not one denied her perfect charm Ot gentleness and grace No dazzling beauty fired her eyes, But on her brow serene, Enthroned upon that ivory seat Sat Goodness like a queen. The quiet ripple of her smile Eeveaed the peace of mind, The meil ow moonlight of her eves Her sympathies refined ;

And when she spoke, the audible charm Was beauty for the blind. Her gentle heart was wooed and won, But he whose name she bore, Adventurous for the sake of wealth Had sought the Australian shore ; And delved the mines of Ballarat For undiscovered ore. But not for sake of gold alone Went Aubrey from his bride, Twas restless youth, 'twas love of change Twas old ancestral pride, 'Twas hope to raise a fallen home From penury's disgrace— To purchase back from usurers The birthright of his race ; And dwell respected, like his sire, In Aubrey Park and Place. So Lilian kept her father's house Beloved—and loving duty— A youthful matron—fairest sight In all the realm of beauty. °

Tlie stranger who was first introduced roaming through the streets of London is among the congregation, and listens with compunction to a sermon on the vanity of greatness and wealth; and on the following day a -little girl comes to tell Parson Vale that a stranger is lying ill at her father's cottage, and, m great distress of mind f s calling out for the parson to come to him';— Across the down went Lucy Gore, The farmer's only daughter, But nine years old—with°glo wing cheeks And smiles like wimpling water Three miles she sped to Micklethorpe By shady lane and alley, Across the styles and through the copse, And the corn-fields in the valley • I As brave as childish innocence ' ' That fears nor foe nor stranger She never stopped nor looked behind Or thought of toil or danger.

The simple tale was briefly told A man in evil plight, A stranger in her father's house Lay suffering in that nio-ht • Self-tortured, wandering in his speech, With fancies dark and wild— And unintelligible all, <,^r, Except'" said tlle liltle child .When he calls on Parson Vale to come x< or Lrod and pity's sake, And hear the sorrows of his heart Before bis heart will break— ' And I," said Lucy Gore, " am come *or Christ's and pity's sake. "

This is a pleasant imitation of Words wortn's manner. The sick stranger proves to be Ed ward Aubrey, the husband of Liian Vae,whQ has just returned from the gold-diggings of Ballarat. Restored in some degree to peace of mind by the presence and consolations of the parson, and of his wife be relates the history of _fe Australian adventures. On the voyage out he formed an intimate friendship with one named Hese tine, from whom he s • e« he diggings Here, after toiling for some with little fruit among th&e bani of broken and reckless men, who, like himself, ate seeking a short cut to riches, he at length discovers an immense mass of c o id cropping up above the soil. His day dreams seem now on the point of beinorealised but while contemplating his trea& sure and revolving plans to remove it !n safety, his reason is unhinged, and the love of go d becomes a sort of madness. While in this state he is one day horrorstricken to find that his retreat has been discovered m Ins absence, and at the same moment his friend Heseltine appears, and to share the treasure with hhn His avarice is alarmed; he rejects the offer of us f end's assistance, high words ensue and with a blow of his miner's mallet he Mis Heseltine to the ground. Supposing himself a murderer, he flies in horror* returns to Europe, and finds his wav to the village o Micklethorpe. His tale is finished! when suddenly h,s friend Heseltine, whom he had supposed killed by the blow of the mallet, returns and finds him out at Mickle tliorpe. A reconciliation and explanation ensue ; Heseltine takes measure to have the mass of gold, to which he renounces all

claim, removed in safety to Europe, and Aubrey is then enabled to purchase back his family estates, and to realise the day-dream of his life.

The denouement, we confess, disappoints us Poetical justice is violated in crowning Aubrey's rapacity and avarice with a splen- | did rewai-d. After having been brought to see the evils of covetousness, under what ever name it may be disguised, he ought to have been contented with some more humble lot, or at least, he ought to have attained to greatness >by legitimate labour but, notwithstanding this, and some other faults m the plot, the poem is on the whol» very pleasing. Some passages are not without considerable power ; familiar scenes described in simple language are used with excellent poetic effect, and the metre is judiciously varied, and adapted to the several phases of feeling through which the reader is conducted.

Among the smaller poems with which the volume closes, we were particularly struck with -The Old Magdalen of St. Stephen's.' It is a true and touching picture of the consolation which the poor and miserable receive from the services of the. Church when those services are open to them and are conducted in such a manner a* to reach their feeling :— Despised and wretched, poor and old, And shivering in the winter cold, So squalid and tattered, so bare and thin, I have a heart and a hope within. 1 fhread each day the crowded street YY ith weary and uncertain feet And ever the w e ll. c ] ad passe rs'by, With vacant or reproachful eye, Look down on my rags or step aside, £ or tear their garments or their pride Should catch a spot of dirt or shame From the wretch, the hag without a name, Vv ho crawls m their sunlight as they go. But let them pass! they little know How boils the lava down below! Or how the heart-strings of the ooor Can throb with paision— yet endure !

Here m the aisles of St. Stephan, Before the bleeding " God-in-man," My seventy years, mv daily pain, My poverty, my guilt's deep stain, -Holl from me like the stormy rain ; And leave me young and lily-white : A flower to blossom in the light Of heavenly glories infinite. 0 For me!- for me ! ever for me, The deep-toned organ, like a sea Of mystery, surging on mine ears, .Reveals the music of the spheres ; And wafts me on its winds and tides To heaven's own gate, among the brides, \Y ho, in white garments, strewn with stars. Look humbly through the golden bars, ■ Until they hear the bridegroom say, " 1 our place awaits you"; come away • , Come in, for ever bright and young."' For me, the mean, the scorned, the base Are pomp and splendour, power and grace • -tor me the incense-bearers fiinoMore sweets than load the heatlTof sprint • For me the holy Bishops sing; *-■=>• ■For me their anthems low or loud, Stream like the sunshine through the cloud ; -tor me their chants like b Hows roar, Or melt like ripples on the shore ; For me the choir, so child-like fair With golden lock's of flowing hair, And flute-like hymns that pierce the air, Mingle, amid the bass profound, Their voices—now afloat—now drowned, And now up-soaring, as if wino-s Were lent them by the King of Kings, i o fly beyond this earthly cell, Right up to heaven ineffable! Mine are the robes, the priests, the shrines, The altars, and the ais'es 1 long lines, The windows purple, red, aiufgreen,' AH radiant with celestial sheen ; That seize the urn. robe by its hems, And twist or cut it into gems; Mine are tho sculptured "saints sublime, The lamps, the pictures, the rich rhyme, The myrrh, the manna, and the blooms Of mingling incense and perfumes! Come queen ! come empress ! come and wear A thousand diamonds in your hair; Come; with yotif eyes more bright than they ; Bring youth, health, strength, and rich arr.lv,

And dazzle all the crowd that see; Kneel down! you cannot dazzle me! Here on the pavement bending low, lam your equal! If not so 1 rise above you by my woe ! By woe, by patience, and by love, Of Magdalen, sweet saint above ; Who suffered, sinned, and wept as I, And pleads my pardon in the sky. The " poet of the people" seems to be aware that, though the Church may possibly answer the requirements of her fortunate and highly educated chfldren by appealing exclusively to their reason, she must appeal to the feelings if she desires to be really the "Church of the people.'" The Souls of the Children has been so often quoted that our readers are no doubt well acquainted with it; but Aye cannot forbear to point out its obvious application to the proceedings of Lord John Russell, Sir George Grey, and the agitators against the National Society. Our readers wilTrecollect that when the first " Minutes of Council on Education" came out it was expected that the several sects of Dissenters would joyfully take advantage of the boon offered to them by Government. Here was plenty of money for the education of their children on the sole condition that they would do then- part. They were to be restrained by no religious disabilities—they were put on a perfect equality with theOhurch. What was the result? the measure met with violent opposition from some sects of Protestant Dissenters—with comparative coldness by almost all: but close to every parish* church in England the bricklayer and carpenter were set to work, and a National School rose up under the auspices of the parochial clergyman, who added.tohis already heavy burdens the responsibility of making up all deficiencies from his slender income. In eveiy cathedral town a training college for masters and mistresses was established besides those belonging to the National Society. The result was, that the education of the lower orders fell almost exclusively into the hands of the clergy, merely because they, and those who acted with them, were the most zealous in the cause.

Bat this was not the result contemplated by Lord John Russell, Sir George Grey, and the rest. Their object is not simply that the child- ! ren of England should be educated, but that, by means of the education imparted to them, they should be withdraAvn from the definite faith of the ! Church. Therefore, an agitation must be made against the Church's training colleges, and a bill must be brought into Parliament Avhich shall take the education of the country out of the hands of the only body of men Avho have shown themselves zealous in promoting it. Here is the history of the contest:—: " Oh, shame!" said true Relicion, " Oh, shame that this should be ! ru take the little children. I'll take them all to rae ; I'll raise them up with kindness, From the mire ia which they've trod ; I'l! teach them word? of blessing, I'll lead them up to God." " You're not the true Religion," Said a sect with flashing eyes; " Nor thou," said another, scowling, Thou'rt heresy and lies." " You shall not have the ehidren," Said a third with shout and yell, " You're Auti-hrist and bigot, You'd train them up to hell." On the whole we cannot but think that, both in point of poetical merit and principle, this volume, professing as it does to speak the sentiments of "the people," is a cheering and hopeful sign of the times.