Text: Edgar Allan Poe (?), Literary, Broadway Journal (New York), May 3, 1845, vol. 1, no. 18, p. 285, col. 1


∞∞∞∞∞∞∞


[page 285, column 1, continued:]

THE MAGAZINES.

THE ARISTIDEAN. — The April, or second number of the Aristidean, is a decided improvement on the first. Some of the papers are exceedingly good — precisely what Magazine papers should be — vigorous, terse, and independent. “Travels in Texas” is very interesting. “Richard Parker's Widow” is also admirable; and” Hans Spiegen” is quite in the Blackwood vein. There is a long review or rather running commentary upon Longfellow's poems. It is, perhaps, a little coarse, but we are not disposed to call it unjust; although there are in it some opinions which, by implication, are attributed to ourselves individually, and with which we cannot altogether coincide. “Shood-Swing[[”]] is queer, and the “Notes about Men of Note” are amusing. Of the political papers we shall not speak. There is not much verse in the number, but some of it is admirable. “The Necessity of Strangling” is worthy of Hood, and “The Hanging of Polly Bodine” is perhaps a better thing in the same way. To show how high an opinion we entertain of the lines with the wretched title of “A Heart-Burst,” we will take the liberty of purloining them in full. They are, we think, the composition of the editor, Mr. English, and it is many a long day since we hive seen anything so truly beautiful — in its peculiar mode of beauty:

Fill me no cup of Xeres’ wine to her my heart holds dear;

If you Insist to pledge with me, then drop a silent tear.

For she I love is far away, and months must pass before

Her heart shall leap to hear again my foot-tramp at the door.

And thus apart, my weary heart, torn both with hopes and fears,

Gives to my spirit wretchedness, and to my eyelids tears.

You laugh and quaff your Xeres’ wine around the festive board,

And jet with names of those you love, which secret you should hoard;

And I conceal how much I feel, for words could not express

The sorrow weeping in my heart, the abject wretchedness,

Illumined by a single hope — God grant it not in vain! —

That foes may cease to part our hearts, and we may meet again.

In mechanical execution — that is to say, in its general external and internal arrangement, the “Aristidean” is infinitely before any American magazine: — although the corer, perhaps, might be improved. In regard to its morale, the rock on which it seems most in danger of splitting is coarseness of vituperation. But if we are to choose between this and namby-pambyism, give us by all means not the litter. We sincerely wish the editor all the success which his vigorous abilities deserve.


∞∞∞∞∞∞∞


Notes:

This review was attributed as being by Poe by W. D. Hull.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

[S:0 - BJ, 1845] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Criticism - Literary (Poe?, 1845)