What a pity that the sects are so slow to become acquainted with the
grand best in each other!
I do not find in Dr. Newman either a depth or a precision equal to that
of Dr. Faber. His earlier poems indicate a less healthy condition of
mind. His _Dream of Gerontius_ is, however, a finer, as more ambitious
poem than any of Faber's. In my judgment there are weak passages in it,
with others of real grandeur. But I am perfectly aware of the difficulty,
almost impossibility, of doing justice to men from some of whose forms of
thought I am greatly repelled, who creep from the sunshine into every
ruined archway, attracted by the brilliance with which the light from its
loophole glows in its caverned gloom, and the hope of discovering within
it the first steps of a stair winding up into the blue heaven. I
apologize for the unavoidable rudeness of a critic who would fain be
honest if he might; and I humbly thank all such as Dr. Newman, whose
verses, revealing their saintship, make us long to be holier men.
Of his, as of Faber's, I have room for no more than one. It was written
off Sardinia.
DESOLATION.
O say not thou art left of God,
Because His tokens in the sky
Thou canst not read: this earth He trod
To teach thee He was ever nigh.
He sees, beneath the fig-tree green,
Nathaniel con His sacred lore;
Shouldst thou thy chamber seek, unseen
He enters through the unopened door.
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