Aryan; Or, the Story of the Sword: a Poem. By
Herbert Todd, M.A. (Henry S. King and Co.)—The "Sword" is a magic weapon, which King Aryan has had fashioned for him by certain gnomes whomhe has the good- fortune to get into his power, and which gives victory to the hand that wields it. Aryan, corrupted by success, becomes a cruel tyrant. Among the captives of his many wars is one Chair, whom he treats just as Alboin, King of the Lombards, treated Rosamunda, and who plots to avenge herself by robbing him of the sword. The magic weapon passes through various fortunes, and finally falling into the bands of King Emeth, with whom Aryan has waged his last war, is thrown by the conqueror into the sea. This is the story which Mr. Todd tells in a poem of twenty-four books, numbering each, on an average, more than six hundred lines. We might ask how many poems of such dimensions have found favour with mankind. Not more than can be counted on the fingers. Bat, perhaps, Mr. Todd does not claim to have written an epic, though indeed he affects the grand-opie style. What, then, has been the fate of " Madoe " and of "Rode- rick ? " Soathey's undoubted genius scarcely gained favour for them at the first, and has certainly failed to keep them alive. But we will estimate Aryan on its own merits. First, how does Mr. Todd wield his instrument, the blank-verse metre? The education of which his works show evident marks keep him from the utter and ludicrous failure of those who fancy that prose cut up into lengths of ten syllables, more or less, makes blank verse. Nay, more, we find a good line now and then. It would be strange, perhaps, if among some fifteen thousand we should not find some such, though it is a fact that some men do contrive always to avoid a musical or sonorous collection of syllables,—p.viatexls .74 But we cannot find a good passage, as many as ten, or even five, really good lines together. The cadence always becomes monotonous, even if it is not marred by some harshness or feebleness. And cases of false emphasis occur so frequently as to prove that Mr. Todd's ear is but very imperfectly cultivated,—without that fine sense of melody which, if candidates for poetical fame would only believe it, is wanted ton times more in blank than in rhymed verse. Of the following lines, for instance, which represent the average versification of the poem, every one, except the first, has emphasis falling on weak words which are not meant to bear it :— "My brother, I have heard the din of war, The rattle of the spear upon the shield, The neighing of the war-steed for the strife, The thundering of the scythed chariot-wheels ; And lo: a great voice, travelling o'er the earth, Bath come unto me, piercing to ray ears. Saying, 'Against thee Aryan levies war.'" Any one of these might pass, did it stand singly, but in sequence they produce a bad effect. One of the words, "scythed," exhibits a licence which Mr. Todd avails himself of too frequently, the accenting of the final syllable " ed." He should have studied and followed the practice of Mr. Tennyson in this respect. It is scarcely too much to say that it disfigures and weakens every line in which it occurs. In such word as "bared," used for bare, it is altogether inadmissible. Defects of style are numerous. Compound words are, perhaps, a weakness of youth, to be excused by the precedent of such poets as Catalina and Mr. Tennyson himself, whose juvenile poems abound with them. But such an expression as " eaverned joys," for the
delights of dwelling in a cavern, cannot be borne. Who does not think of the "marshy joys" of Mrs. Leo Hunter's poem? Similes, again, are far too frequent., and not reserved, as Homer and Virgil reserve them, for places where the reader has leisure to appreciate them. As for the tale itself, it lacks interest; the action is scanty and slow, the dialogue tediously copious. Yet we can discern a certain promise in Mr. Todd's work. There is imagination in it in its larger features, there is fancy in its details. The oratory is sometimes eloquent, the description sometimes picturesque. It manifests constantly the results of culture and reading. It is sometimes genuinely poetical, though its author has yet to make out his claim as a poet. If he would succeed in doing this, he must have some more modest and practicable aims than writing a poem which exceeds, in length at least, the .FEneid, and even the Iliad. We shall give our readers what seems a favourable specimen of Mr. Todd's work, the description of the "Worshippers of Death ":-
"For these were of all tribes who lived on earth The only men who worshipped Death as God. And him they served, knowing well his might ; For said they, • He is strongest Lord of all ; Stronger than lest, for he destroyeth lust ; Stronger than life, since that he quencheth life.' Therefore they worshipped him with hideous rites, And shaped in stone warm his image vast, That now stands ghastly on the eastern plains, Behind the altar black with human blood. Earleas it is, for the skin-wearers said, .Earless Is Death ; he hears no mortal prayer. We, too, his children, should have earless hearts, For that the children should be like their lord.'"
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