The Holy Cross Purple.

THE HOLY CROSS PURPLE is a Literary Magazine, published at Holy Cross College, Worcester, Mass. Its aim is to cultivate a high literary spirit among the students by exercising them in both critical and creative composition. It serves also as a bond between the Alumni and their Alma Mater, chronicling their successes and telling briefly the important happenings of college life.

Subscription: One dollar a year, payable in advance; single copies, 15 cents. THE HOLY CROSS PURPLE is issued every month, excepting August and September.

Entered at the Post Office at Worcester, Mass., as second-class mail matter.

BOARD OF EDITORS.

Editor-in Chief: JOHN E. McTIGUE, 'oo.

Carlyle, in his essay on Burns, says that he would fain preach to the poets "a sermon upon the duty of staying at home." The great

author believed that poets are better employed singing of their own times and environments than in seeking inspiration in distant times or in distant places. There is scarcely a poet of

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any importance in English literature to whom this admonition might be applied, with good results, except to Burns himself, who seldom produced anything worthy of his great genius when he sought inspiration beyond his native country, or ignored the Scottish dialect.

If successful and valuable productions were a sufficient justification for the transgression of the limits which Carlyle would like to impose, our great American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, would be among the first to obtain our indulgence. Whether he describes the "broad and swift Mississippi," separated from him by leagues of land, or whether he sings of the North American Indians while they yet held undisputed sway in their primitive forests, his descriptions are equally accurate, and the same animation, pathos and sublimity pervades his poetry as when he sings of his immediate surroundings. If, therefore, it were to the interests of Burns to stay at home," it was equally congenial to the genius and attainments of Longfellow to make a wider exploration of the regions of poetry.

That quaint and fascinating poem, "The Song of Hiawatha," is among the first of those productions whose excellence entitles the poet to much consideration from those who hold the opinion of Carlyle. The Indian legends are told in tones "so plain and childlike" that we are fain to think that we hear them from the lips of Nawadaha himself, whose song seems to rise from the depths of his soul and to communicate itself directly to ours. The simplicity, famili

arity and precision of his images are Homeric, and we are borne aloft upon the wings of poetic imagination till we look

"Downward through the evening twilight,

In the days that are forgotten,

In the unremembered ages."

From this lofty eminence we view the measureless forest clad in all the sublime magnificence of primeval splendor, while we gaze with feelings of pathos and admiration upon its rude inhabitants and their

"Longings, yearnings, strivings

For the good they comprehend not."

As in all the other works of the poet, the meter is well chosen. A better one could not have been invented. It is the meter in which the Muse herself inspired many a prehistoric bard to celebrate in his crude verses the exploits of his tribe in the forests of Germany and Gaul. The repetition of the same sound seems to make it melodious instead of monotonous, and, like a voice of nature, it has an inexhaustible freshness which is made sweeter by repetition.

The merit of the poem extends farther. The selection of the subject could be no more improved upon than the choice of meter. That it treats of man and nature in their primitive state ought to be, at least from a poetical standpoint, its chief recommendation. To sing of those regions while they are not yet shorn of their primitive splendors, and to interpret the emotions and longings of the savage heart, whose childlike innocence is not yet defiled by the vices of civilization, is an undertaking

worthy of any poet. But it is an adventure into that domain of poetry which none but a true poet will undertake with impunity. Nowhere does the Muse of poetry hold greater dominion than in the uncultivated breasts of men. To times when the actions of men were dictated by impulse rather than reason, and to regions still arrayed in their original charms we must trace the majestic river of poetry which flows down the ages; and the nearer we approach to its source, the purer, more invigorating and refreshing is the taste of its waters. Here we find ourselves enveloped in the mists of the dawn of civilization, listening in wonderment to those enchanting melodies which no warbler in the noonday of civilization has dared to imitate. Here the Muse breathed the poetic fire into the soul of Homer, and inspired him with songs which will continue through all time to be the wonder and the delight of mankind.

"The Song of Hiawatha" takes us back to regions as pregnant, perhaps, in inspiration as those in which Homer sang. The North American forests stand yet unravished of their primeval grandeur. Every phase of beauty and sublimity in nature presents itself to the understanding of the savage in a delusive coloring, and in a veil of mysticism which renders it doubly poetical. Thus nature herself constantly feeds the Muse's flame, which burns nowhere so ardently as in the uncultured breast of the uncivilized poet.

Such places are rich in poetry. But all their treasures are at the disposal of none but the un

cultured bard who makes those places his environments. Here the Muse takes possession of his soul and inspires him with songs which sound to us like echoes of a voice of nature. Such a poet is in full enjoyment of all the advantages which can be derived from environments prolific in inspiration; from a primitive state of society, which is governed by the spirit of poetry; and from language which, being in a crude state, he finds best suited to his art. The poet of civilized society, on the contrary, participates but little in these advantages. His environments are often those of a dusty, bustling city, where the stern realities of life meet him on all sides. Language he finds in a state of development more metaphysical than poetical. His society has long outgrown its poetical stage, and is built upon a scientific basis.

In

In forming a judgment of the merits of "Hiawatha" due allowance for these disadvantages ought to be made to the poet, especially in a work of this kind, which is intended to be an imitation of the primitive Muse. Only those excellencies which invariably abound in the crude productions of the ancient bards of the forests ought to be demanded of this poem. fine, "Hiawatha" ought to be judged only by the standard of primitive poetry. This is the highest criterion which could be established. It demands every excellence which properly belongs to poetry. Yet viewed from this standpoint the merits of the poem are enhanced; and its real value will be more apparent.

The most careful perusal will fail to discover