Those wondrous stores, reminiscences, floods, currents! Let them flow
on, flow hither freely. And let the sources be enlarged, to include
not only the works of British origin, as now, but stately and devout
Spain, courteous France, profound Germany, the manly Scandinavian
lands, Italy's art race, and always the mystic Orient. Remembering
that at present, and doubtless long ahead, a certain humility would
well become us. The course through time of highest civilization, does
it not wait the first glimpse of our contribution to its kosmic train
of poems, bibles, first-class structures, perpetuities--Egypt and
Palestine and India--Greece and Rome and mediaeval Europe--and so
onward? The shadowy procession is not a meagre one, and the standard
not a low one. All that is mighty in our kind seems to have already
trod the road. Ah, never may America forget her thanks and reverence
for samples, treasures such as these--that other life-blood,
inspiration, sunshine, hourly in use to-day, all days, forever,
through her broad demesne!
All serves our New World progress, even the bafflers, head-winds,
cross-tides. Through many perturbations and squalls, and much backing
and filling, the ship, upon the whole, makes unmistakably for her
destination. Shakspere has served, and serves, may-be, the best of
any.
For conclusion, a passing thought, a contrast, of him who, in my
opinion, continues and stands for the Shaksperean cultus at the
present day among all English-writing peoples--of Tennyson, his
poetry.
Pages:
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507