All's over here;--let us withdraw and weep Down in the red recesses of our hearts, Or, in our spirits, silent, curse the cravens Whom uttered execrations too much honour.…
Charles Heavysege is considered one of the greatest Canadian writers of plays and poetry yet he did not emigrate to that country until he was in his 30s. He also made his name there as a journalist, in Montreal. He was English-born and yet Canadian literature critics seem to have claimed him as one of their own. They considered him a serious poet, especially when considering the three-part verse drama called Saul. This was even considered to be the most significant piece of work of its kind since the days of William Shakespeare. Other work attracted less than complimentary comments though such as “unoriginal” and “ [he writes in] an overblown, rhetorical style”. He was born on the 2nd May 1816 in the West Yorkshire town of Huddersfield. Little is recorded about Heavysege’s early life but it seems he came from a simple, working class background and appears to have taught himself to write. He used such weighty references as The Bible and the works of Shakespeare and Milton when formulating his own writing style. At the age of 37 he decided to emigrate to Canada and took up employment there as a wood carver. His writing abilities soon earned him a place on the reporting staff of the Montreal Transcript and, later on, he joined the Montreal Daily Witness, eventually becoming city editor. Before leaving England he had the first edition of his six-part The Revolt of Tartarus published in London, in 1852. This was reissued in Montreal three years later, only this time it was significantly edited and published anonymously. The same year he produced Sonnets and followed this with what was described as his greatest work (Saul) in 1857. This attracted the attention of the poet and critic Coventry Patmore, in England, and, on reading it in the publication The North British Review. he described it in possibly excessively glowing terms. He called it “indubitably the best poem ever written out of Great Britain” even though the writer was now in Canada. The fame of Charles Heavysege rapidly spread and he also got good reviews in the New York Evening Post and the Atlantic Monthly. He was busy over the next ten years or so including a tribute to Edgar Alan Poe’s The Raven which Heavysege called The Owl. Other work included The Huntsman in 1864 and a piece of prose work called The Advocate, one year later. Saul was so popular that it was reissued a number of times, even as late as 1967. He was popular all over Canada and the United States with admirers such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and the Canadian Prime Minister Sir John MacDonald. He was certainly in the vanguard of Anglo-Canadian poets and inspired fellow Canadian writers such as Charles G D Roberts and Charles Sangster. Curiously he was not well-read in Canada and critics claimed that his themes were not distinctly Canadian, and yet he was still considered a great Canadian poet. This appreciation declined in later decades though and by the 1920s, and later on, he was decried as “not really a Canadian writer” and work such as Saul and Count Filippo were dismissed as “Victorian dinosaurs”. Perhaps they had a point, as witnessed in the poem below. It is called Last Words Of Saul, an extract from his greatest piece of work: Charles Heavysege died on the 14th July 1876, aged 60.
Charles Heavysege şiirleri
Childhood alone is glad. With it time flees In constant mimes and bright festivities. It, like the ever-restless butterfly, Or seeks or settles on some flower of joy.…
Hushed in a calm beyond mine utterance, See in the western sky the evening spread; Suspended in its pale, serene expanse, Like scattered flames, the glowing cloudlets red.…
What ails me? what impels me on, until The big drops fall from off my brow? Whence comes This strange affliction?--Oh, thus to the driven About!--I will stand still: no move me aug…
The Jewish king now walks at large and sound, Yet of our emissary Malzah hear we nothing: Go now, sweet spirit, and, if need be, seek This world all lover for him:--find him out,…
Now let me die, for I indeed was slain With my three sons. Where are ye, sons? Oh let me Find ye, that I may perish with you; dying, Cover you with my form, as doth the fowl…
'Tis solemn darkness; the sublime of shade; Night, by no stars nor rising moon relieved; The awful blank of nothingness arrayed, O'er which my eye-balls roll in vain, deceived.…
Open, my heart, thy ruddy valves; It is thy master calls; Let me go down, and, curious, trace Thy labyrinthine halls.…
WHO is lord of lordly fate,-- Lady of her lot's estate? He who rules himself is he, She who tempts not fate is she.…
See how the Morn awakes. Along the sky Proceeds she with her pale, increasing light, And, from the depths of the dim canopy, Drives out the shadows of departing night.…
How great unto the living seem the dead! How sacred, solemn; how heroic grown; How vast and vague, as they obscurely tread The shadowy confines of the dim unknown!-…
'Twas on a day, and in high, radiant heaven, An angel lay beside a lake reclined, Against whose shores the rolling waves were driven, And beat the measure to the dancing wind.…
The day was lingering in the pale north- west, And night was hanging o'er my head-- Night, where a myriad stars were spread;…
'Twas Sabbath morn. I lay 'neath pensive spell, And saw, in reverie or waking dream, My life elapse, in likeness of a stream That in a slant and steady torrent fell,…
The stars are glittering in the frosty sky, Frequent as pebbles on a broad sea-coast; And o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy Has marshalled its innumerable host.…