MY DEAR SIR WILLIAM DRUMMOND.--The perusal of your beautiful poem _Odin_
has delighted me so much, that I cannot deny myself the gratification of
expressing my thanks to its author; and at the same time demanding, why so
exquisite a poem remains unfinished?
It is cruel to your readers, and unjust to England, to leave such a work
incomplete; it is like the unfinished statues of Michael Angelo, which no
hand has ever been found hardy enough to touch, for I am persuaded that we
have no living poet who could write a sequel to _Odin_.
Do not think me presumptuous for venturing to give my opinion on poetry; I
have studied it from my infancy, and my admiration for it is so
enthusiastic, that I feel more strongly than I can reason on the subject.
With this passion for poetry, you can more easily imagine than I can
describe, the delight that _Odin_ gave me. I have copied many passages from
it in my Album under different heads: such as Contemplation; Love of
Country; Liberty; Winter; Morning; Meditation on a Future State;
Immortality of the Soul; Superstition; Vanity of Life; Jealousy; and many
others too numerous to mention. And they are of such transcendent merit, as
to be above all comparison, except with Shakspeare or {269} Milton. In the
sublimity and harmony of your verses, you have equalled, if not surpassed,
the latter; and in originality of ideas and variety, you strikingly
resemble the former; but neither call boast of anything superior to your
beautiful episode of "Skiold and Nora."
Hitherto, my dear Sir William Drummond, I have looked on you as one of the
first scholars and most elegant prose writers of the age; but, at present,
permit me to say that I regard you as the _first poet_.
When I have been charmed with the productions of writers, who were either
personally unknown to me, or unhappily dead, how have I regretted not being
able to pour out my thanks for the pleasure they had afforded me: in this
instance I rejoice that I have the happiness of knowing you, and of being
able to express, though feebly, the admiration with which your genius
inspires me; and of offering up my fervent prayers that you may be long
spared to adorn and do honour to the age which is, and ought to be, proud
to claim you. In writing to you I abandon my pen to the guidance of my
heart, which feels with all the warmth for which _Irish hearts_ are so
remarkable. A _poet_ can understand and pardon this Irish warmth, though a
_philosopher_ might condemn it; but in addressing you, I forget that I am
writing to one of the most eminent of the last class, and only remember
that I am talking of _Odin_ to the most admirable of the first.
I am at present reading _Academical Questions_, which, if _I dare_ take
possession of, should not again find their way to Chiaja; _Odin_ I shall
most _unwillingly_ resign, as I find it belongs to Lady Drummond; but if
you have any other of your works by you, will you have the goodness to lend
them to me? Pray name what day you will dine with us, accompanied by Mr.
Stewart, to whom I owe my best acknowledgments for having lent me _Odin_.
Believe me,
My dear Sir William Drummond, to be
With unfeigned esteem,
Sincerely yours,
MARGUERITE BLESSINGTON.
Villa Gallo, April 24th, 1825.
The above Letter is copied from the original in my possession.