"POEMS OT NORTH AND SOUTH."

Auckland Star, Volume XLV, Issue 152, 27 June 1914, Page 14

"POEMS OT NORTH AND SOUTH."

Of poetry written in Australasia, and inspired by Southern scenery, incident and character, many examples have been given to the world, in periodicals, anthologies, and so forth; but it is doubtful if aniything better has been produced than some of the poems in a volume entitled "From Far Lands: Poems of North and South," of which we have received a copy from tho publishers, Messrs. Macmillan and Co., of London. The author, Mr. -J. Laurence Rcntoul, is by no means well known, even by his pen-name of "Gervais Gage," and it is doubtful whether he will ever be ranked as a "popular" poet, in the category of writers like Henry Lawson and "Banjo" Patcrson. He has, however, in this book of some 200 pages established a claim to be considered seriously as a contributor to the permanent literature of these Southern lands. This is not to say that his work is faultless, or even that most of it attains a high level of excellence. There are not a few pages upon which "the art of blotting" might with advantage be practised, and there are whole poems that do little credit to the author. For example, a long piece of versification, "Australia's Hero," extending to 27 pages, is a sad waste of energy and space. The true poetical treatment of a shipwreck scene is to present the salient points in bold relief, but in this we have a wearisome wealth of detail, obscuring the heroic elements in the story. Then, the tale professes to be told "in the Australian vernacular," but the dialect is a complete travesty, bearing no sort of resemblance to "Australese." It is impossible to imagine a youthfql scion of Australian "eockeydom" using such language as the following:—

"Then the wild green waves loomed upward, like witch-crested walls o' doom Crashln' down to swing an' rear an'

crash again; An' the brave barque grtntlin' shuddered in the tempest's shock an" boom. An' tbe bell kept knellin' time to shore an' main."

That is nothing but vivid and correct English, slightly disguised. There is an occasional line that would pass for Australian; but Mr. Rentoul would be well advised not to try further versification in a vernacular to which he is not "native and to the manner born." Quite differently does he handle the Ulster Scots dialect of his youth, in such pieces as "A Mither's Cry," and "Robert Burns and Mister pierpont Morgan," which are models of dialect verse. But Mr. Rentoul is at his best when he writes pure classical English, and some of his earlier poems so written are equal to his later efforts. Thus, in "Dunluce" we have a vigorouslydrawn picture of the wreck of a ship of the Spanish Armada that "drew northward to her doom" on tho Ulster coast: But Philip's gnns were hushed. His gunners' arms were stayed. As down upon them rushed Old Ocean's cannonade. Tbe rocks were stained with gore; But Ocean smote again, And shook iv scorn from the shore The blood of Papist Spain! "Sam Perry" and "Anchonry" are two other Ulster-inspired poems, rich in sonorous and poetical phrases, expressing passionate conviction of high truths. But the three poems that give character and distinction to the book and clearly mark the author's place in literature are those entitled "By the Australian Bush," "In an Austral Gully," and "By an ■\ustral River." Wo quote a few stanzas from the first of the three poems named, which are as purely Australian as anything of Kendal's: — The crickets drone, and the drowsy cicadas chirr: . The tinkling cow-bells echo athwart the range: O'er log and leaf deft lizards rustle and stir. A mopoke hoots, with bis welcome quaint and strange.

The gaunt white arms of the gum trees ring'd on the slope, Like ghosts of a Joy and a Beanty slain by Greed For scant pelf hid in their girdles, seem to grope Blindly for grace that's lost—blind quest indeed!

Bnt here, where the woodland dips to the waters' How. Are nooks of grace no trampling foot hatti stirred. Shrines sacrosanct to rest and tbe twilight glow, Murmur of stream and chant of the cureless bird.

And the gladness leaps in my heart and Hoods to my face, As it was in the lands of the North—the rush and the cheer; Tor the whole world's joy can be framed in v little space. As the whole world's pain can be globed in a sudden tear:

Mr. Rentoul's masterpiece is, however, "In an Austral Gully," a poem that is finely conceived and executed—an entrancing idyll—a scholarly classic. It is but the simple, story of an Australian wooing—a damsel found asleep by* a stream, an attack from a bull, a rescue and a betrothal; but the charm lies in the telling of it. in verse not of the simplest, managed with rare skill. A few of the opening stanzas must be given, if only to whet the reader's appetite: — Sauntering down tbe gully, near the meeting waters. What, is it that holds mc, sudden, like a spell? Not the brooklet's singing, not the blue wren's rapture, Not tbe grace of "blnckwood," nor the whispering dell: Not the wondrons glamonr of the arching fern grove. Not the gracious sunlight glinting throngh the trees, Not the boom of Ocean, borne across the ranges. Blending in the gum-tops, with hum of Hitting beesl No! A vision, certes, binds mc tranced and gazlug. Draws mc mute a-tiptoe, open eyes and lips. Sweeps mc all a-tremble with the joy of living. Floods the springs of being, sonl to finger tips. Almost equally fine is "By an Austral River" —the river is really the Oreti in New Zealand—a poem extending to 20 pages. A sample, almost at random, will show something of the quality of this piece: — Ab. have you seen Aorangi rise. Ills white cloud-robes unrolled. And lift his prayer to sapphire skies. Gleamed through with pearl and gold? Oh. in the splendour and the light— The strength, the grace, the gleamHeaven's gate seems lifting clear in sight, And God's face not a dream:

If Mr. Eentoui would always write in this strain, he would quickly win a high place in the. estimation of all people of taste as the purest, most, exalted and most scholarly exponent of Australasian scenery, life and idealism. His sonnets, it may be added, are happily conceived.. but are defective in form and phrasing.