Here is a poem I came across by Eugenius Roche, adding to our poetry on Napoleon. (We noted last February that Lord Byron covered both Elba and St. Helena.) Eugenius Roche, although born in Dublin in 1786, was actually raised in France, and moved to London around 1804, where he worked as editor on a magazine that published some of Byron’s early poems. I’m just guessing, but since Mr. Roche was a young man actually living in Paris during the years leading up to Napoleon’s coronation, he probably felt a lot more connected to the events than the English poets. Roche’s father was a language professor who made sure his children spoke several languages, but Roche’s first language was considered to be French and he had composed and published several poems in French before going to England. The comments after the title belong to Mr. Roche.
THE EXILE.
The following sonnet is founded on the accounts of St. Helena, published when that island became the prison of the greatest conqueror of modern times. Thunder-storms were represented as altogether unknown. It appears, however, by the observations of his friends, that serenity is far from being the general character of the climate.
Oh, for a peal of thunder!—smile no more,
Eternal sunshine, thou fatiguest my soul!
In calm and majesty no longer roll
Vast ocean! but in all thy tempests roar,
And lash with mountain-waves my prison shore!
Send forth your voices, angels of the pole,
Hither wild whirlwinds be your constant goal,
And give my spirit wings of storm to soar:
I’ll rush into the past, and as around
The mingling thunders of your conflict peal,
Shall burst upon mine ear the battle sound,
Shall break upon mine eye the ranks of steel,
Till planting o’er the earth my flag unfurled,
I’ll stand, and seem once more the monarch of a world!
Japan invades. Far Eastern vines
Run from the clay banks they are
Supposed to keep from eroding.
Up telephone poles,
Which rear, half out of leafage
As though they would shriek,
Like things smothered by their own
Green, mindless, unkillable ghosts.
In Georgia, the legend says
That you must close your windows
At night to keep it out of the house.
The glass is tinged with green, even so,
Gold! gold! gold! gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold,
Molten graven hammer’d and roll’d;
Heavy to get and light to hold;
Hoarded, barter’d, bought and cold,
Stolen, borrow’d, squander’d, doled:
Spurn’d by the young but hugg’d by the old;
To the very verge of the churchyard mold;
Price of many a crime untold;
Gold! gold! gold! gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
How widely its agencies vary–
To save–to ruin–to curse–to bless
As even its minted coins express,
Now stamp’d with the image of Good Queen Bess,
And now of a Bloody Mary.
Today we’ll look at some poems about gold. It’s the day in 1848 when James W. Marshall discovered a gold nugget at Sutter’s Mill in northern California, which led to the gold rush of ‘49, and although the above snippet from Miss Kilmansegg: Her Moral (by Thomas Hood 1799-1845), is not about the gold rush per se, we can start with that one anyway, because I like it.
Here is one about a disillusioned prospector, who decided the search was not worth the trouble and was real happy to return to mother’s bosom (reprinted from Leavenworth, Kansas Evening Dispatch in the Rocky Mountain News, Denver, 10/20/1859): Read the rest of this entry »
The Baltimore Sun reports that the “Poe Toaster” who faithfully visited Poe’s grave every January 19th for 60 years failed to show up at midnight on January 19, 2010. He would arrive sometime between midnight and 5:30 a.m. and leave a bottle of cognac and three roses.
Jeff Jerome, the curator of the Edgar Allan Poe House in Baltimore, Maryland told the Baltimore Sun that there was nothing to make anyone think the toaster wasn’t coming this year. He said the man sometimes knelt at the tombstone or put his hands on it. Sometimes he would leave a note along with his other gifts.
As the ritual came to be known over the years, people would gather nearby to watch but would not disturb the Poe Toaster. A group of 30-50 people came this year but left disappointed. People speculated that the toaster was ill, or chose to stop coming after the bicentennial of Poe’s birthday last year (or perhaps the 60th year anniversary of his own visits).
Mr Jerome said he would continue to keep vigil each morning of January 19 until 2012. “After two years if he doesn’t show up, I think we can safely assume the tribute has ended,” he said.
The tragedy of the Haitian earthquake has brought out an outpouring of help for the devastated country which is, of course, a good thing. As also often happens, it has also shone a light on the woeful ignorance of many people concerning the history and religion of Haiti. The ‘pact with the devil’ remarks made by televangelist, Pat Robertson set off a firestorm of criticism and disbelief. A White House official said his comments that Haiti has been cursed because of a pact made with the devil to free them from French rule don’t express the spirit of the American people or the president.
Senior White House adviser Valerie Jarrett said Thursday on ABC’s “Good Morning America” that Roberston’s comments left her speechless. She called Robertson’s statements “a pretty stunning comment to make.” Robertson’s camp tried pretty hard to run damage control after the remarks traveled swiftly around the internet. His comments, according to spokeman, Chris Roslan, were based on Voodoo rituals carried out before a slave rebellion against French colonists in 1791. Roslan said Robertson never stated the earthquake was God’s wrath.
Maybe he didn’t say those words literally, but the implication is there, and by the way, how did Napoleon III get in there? Pat Robertson’s comments could not possibly be based upon the works of ‘countless scholars’ since even the average student of history knows that Napoleon III had nothing to do with the Haitian revolution. It seems pretty clear Pat Robertson doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about. See the video after the jump. Read the rest of this entry »
