AUSTIN DOBSON
pure and simple, and the natural finish of his poetry shows for itself. I doubt if there is another collection of lyrics by an English singer more devoid of blemishes, more difficult to amend by the striking-out or change of words and measures. Mr. Aldrich has suggested that it may well be compared, in this respect, to the French of such an artist as Théophile Gautier,—the lesson of whose L'Art, as will be seen from his own crystalline poem in imitation, Mr. Dobson long ago took to heart.
His lyrical studies and dialogues upon French themes of the Eighteenth Century are full of poetic realism. In "Une Marquise," and in "The Story of Rosina,"—a sustained piece which shows the higher range of its author's genius,—the presiding beauty, and the artist of a time and a region
Wherein most things went naked, save the Truth,
are made known to us more truly than they dared to know themselves. For dainty workmanship, and comprehension of the spirit of an age, read "The Metamorphosis," and its sequel, "The Song out of Season." What other poet could have written these, or "Good-night, Babette!"—which contains the Angelus song, whose loveliness I scarcely realized until Mr. Aldrich printed it by itself, a gem taken from its setting. And I know not, since reading "The Curé's Progress," where else to find so attractive an ideal of the goodness, quaintness, sweetness, of the typical Père on his journey down the street of his little town. The town itself is depicted, in a few stanzas, as plainly as
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