Carmen Sylva.
The poetical talents of Queen Elizabeth, which she was so anxious to
hide from public view, have proved beneficial to her vocation as mother
of her country. A critic might perhaps object to the absence of strict
rules in her poetry, but we rejoice to find such originality in thought
and feeling. The royal lady writes of what she has thought and felt in
a vivid and life-like manner. A desire to communicate her feelings to
others induces her to write poetry. She says,--“When a thought takes
possession of me, it is not that I will, but I must put it into words,
and insert it in a poem, or it leaves me no peace. How often have I
bitterly bewailed my poetic talent, and rebelled against Providence for
placing such a burden upon my shoulders; and now I know that it is my
greatest happiness, and a blessing to me which can also give pleasure
to others. My greatest wish is to write in such a manner that all may
think they have written it themselves. I do not wish to be anything
more than the voice which clothes the truth in acceptable forms and
takes all its harshness from it. Thus I can ease many a heart of its
burden, and what happiness it is to show the beauties of truth, to
realise and represent the beautiful.
“‘Like an eagle the poet, as bold and as free,
And warm as the glow of the sunshine must be;
Like the sensitive plant he must tremble and quake,
Now wild as a torrent, now calm as a lake.’
“The outer forms of what one writes have only to do with what one has
learnt. The ideas have to be lived through, and can only be based on
the past experiences which formed one’s character. This is my comfort
when I tremble lest my talent should come to an end. It is not at an
end, for I yet live and learn. How often I have struggled against
writing anything down for weeks and months. But it holds me as a spell
till it is written down. Then I forget it, and so utterly and entirely
that I often do not even recognise my own thoughts. After all, writing
is only a discharge of electricity. But the battery cannot be properly
replenished when the body is weakened. Every carefully finished work is
a step upon which one can set one’s foot firmly and safely in order to
rise higher. This can only be, of course, if one’s whole powers, one’s
best self is put into the work. As one cannot give to one’s labour more
than one has, every intellectual power we have attained to should tell
in our work and make itself felt. People have said that sorrow made me
a poetess. But that is not so. Poetry is quite independent of the outer
world, of sickness or trial. I never know what I shall write a week
hence. I like to be surprised. But when an idea takes hold of me, I do
not get rid of it even for years until it is written down. I have never
had time, and if all my ideas were not clear in my head before I take
up my pen, they would never see the light.”
[Illustration:
_Woodbury Compy._