THE TRIBUNE.

,Unv are ,here no American Poets:
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The last Eclectic Museum contains review


of Griswolds Poets and Poetry OF America, ex-


tracted from the last Dublin Review. The he


viewer of course, thinks our poetry tririhe


matter, and perhaps he is right On lhIs point


we will not quarrel with him nor the Ensiisl


reviews We complain OF two thinss tndl "p


pear first and foremost IN every hshsh iio'ico "
American poetry. First, that VIC are serViie
;mitators of their poets; and second, that we are
unable to produce any great poem. The changes
that are rung on these two charges constitute the
bulk of English criticism on American poetry,
and they are made so repeatedly that our review
ers seem to think it must be so, and throw IN as
an apology the youthiulncss OF our literature.


Now as to the charge OF servIe imitation as
general thing, we plumply deny 1t. That there
should often be strong resemblances between
American and English writers is natural, for
there is similarity in modes of thought among
writers of all civilized nations, but especially III
those of the same language and parentage. From
Milton down, English writers have accused each
other Of pIundering from the classics, and we
fear too Justly, but especially oil initiating their
own great poets. Now we consider 1t impossible
that great writer should not turn multitude
of minds into the same channel with his own, TIL


they become ifnbued with his own views and
sympathies. We think this simple fact Is the
only evidence we have that the man is really
great. Now to say that these inferior minds, or
equal minds of a later date that have been infu--
enced by the peculiar philosophical or moral


views of those that preceded them and hence
resemble them somewhat in their writings, are
servle imitators, we consider unjust and untrue.
English literature is literature or rather is its
father. That the child should have some of the
lineaments of the parent-the boy now and then
betray the tongue of the tather-we think one of
the most natural things in the world. To expect
otherwise would be unphosophical and incon-
sistent but from this cause, to put us down,
great and small, mere lmltators, is puerlle and
wrong. Indeed, we have been surprised that our
literature founded as it is on the English should
still retain SO many and strong national peculiar-
ton and we cannot see the truth or sense of the
charges made in this review that Bryant imi-
tates Byron, and Dana is but faint echo Of
Coleridge. For two more disslmlar men III their
characters and styles we do not know than Byron
and Bryant. The wild, gloomy, bitter strain Of
the former is unlike as can be to the quiet, re-
Elective numbers of the latter.


But as this charge, like the remark that Irving
owes his great excellencies to his early residence
in England, has its foundation, doubtless, in ma
tiohal vanity, we will let it pass


The other comes in the shape of taunt, and
has always seemed to be leyeed at our institu-
tions.


g In the higher qualifications of poet" says
this Iuyiuw,.' there we are pound to record
American deficiency. Genius, the transhgura-
ton of the beautiful into the sublime, sc. are
not there.' And it is asked why we do not
write an Epic or some great Poem that shall live
by the side of Milton, and Pope, and Others as
if such a thing were impossible in Republican \
Government Now we will not hide behind the I
youthfulness of our Literature, and hope to do !
better by and by; for that very youthfulness is
favorable to the growth Of Poetry. As general
rule, the greatest poets spring out of the earlier
spochs of Nations history. In the same man.
aer the greatest poets, as general tt.-.g, make
heir loftiest and most successful efforts in their
youth. That over which the old poet sighs most, I
the loss Of the youthful vigor of his imagination
Just so we think Republican Government the
ittest of all to produce bold and vigorous imagi
nations.


There is another and better reason for our
dearth in great works of imagination, (and here
we know we shall be charged with national
yanity,) we are ting one of the grandest Eplcs
in human history, and cannot be expected to
write it at the same time. 1t would be odd, IN
deed, to ask why Hector on Achilles did not stop
in the midst of battle, and write what was lett to
blind old Homer to do. The devil needed a
Milton, and Bonapartc did not attempt to write
his own history. Some poems are acted and
never written; others are written IN the age
thet succeeds their enactment. Bonapartc made
pendous style with the music of cannon yollies
and murder shrieks of the world. His stage
lights were the fires of conhagrations-his rhyme
and recltatve the tramp Of embattled hosts and
the sound of falling cities" And yet our English
friends would say Bonaparte could not write
poem. That is more than they know. He acted
one at least.


We mention these cases for no other purpose
than to show that the absence of a great literary
class in nation does not necessarily involve the
absence Of literary talent; on the contrary, we be-
ieve that wherever there is the earnest and ener-
getic action of enlightened men on great objects,
there is always mind equal to any literary under.
taking. And he is short sighted critic who


Judges of the intellect of any nation by its writings
alone, and not by what it accomplshes. Withou,
egotisn, we think no sensible man can look on
nl,r nlans and nurnnseS and the rani6itu viii