BERNARD O'DOWD.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 57, 30 November 1907, Page 13

BERNARD O'DOWD.

■./ • >■ •■'..v . HISTORIC. - ■ . . ■ Torrential barbarisms, need , ~ Charioteers of . Pain: 'And.wise gods-sleep when men recede ;' ( '.;-To ;callow youth > again.: ' /..[But in that'age-long, sleep have waned . ;A "myriad, gods, or' fled; •Olympic. altars are disdained :• 'And unostic Wisdom dead. , : Fdr what to Vandali or to Huns, 1..: When Koine's red lips .were ripe, 1 ,Were, calm Hellenic Shining Ones, Or Gnostic Archetype? : . v Jet"iTinie matured to,mellow wine ' .The Roman-Gothic miist,. For Merer "and a Maid Divine •■* iSubducd, the hate and list.: and .Stoic hold ..." Antique dobates anew; . 'And,'hithej, return .the. Virtues'..old,' , (Alas! an'd J ."*vlc6" / JEdli!V l f "" : h !• ->■ I fi-t tcV.i :>£!.? .I'/.snc. BC-Jf ; ■ Marooned : no more,' we sail the sea, . Tire sad'gods . were, we', knew;. "'; And from Platonic prows decree—,-. , "The. gods'are, .You !" -[■ Bernard O'Dowd, in "Dominions of the Boundary."

T/ C. Lothian of Melbourne, enterprising 'publisher, sends a shilling's-worth of pretty booklet,. The Dominions of the Boundary," the' third published volume of verso by Bernard O'Dowd. ..The-poems ..will confirm tho impression; left by "Dawnward," that if O'Dowd had'not unfortunately succumbed to the "joy of discovering a brand-new metrical .vehicle for a "somewhat different" expression; of'his fierce philosophy, lie would nave 'written fine poetry. As it is,, the flame of tis'''poetry: breaks through his 'strenuouslySyrought verses only here .and'there. I'ou can : feel the heiit of it as you. sit in ".the oven of his'thought—but it is only now and then;-that tho walls glow .rid and'whito. There is'no chango in tho O'Dowd manner ]?ftho'Rord-wfought. tabloid images,, the profound , allusioiis, the far-brouglit. parallels, tho imcouth mouthings.. Open "Dawnward" again: , Palladium and Shibboleth Pose on each misty dome; < Bed, Crisis' tableaux' blotch with' death

\ Smug Order's monochrome. £ou. will find it all' again anywhere in the "Dominions." O'Dowd was a wild wrecker in "Dawnwardho is less crude, far subtler; in the present volume. The vitriol hus gone.' ' The thought is deeper. In the VBullotin" :of 'November 30, 1905, O'Dowd set out his opinions about .poetry: "In my opinion,' thought js a. more important element'in tho valuation of absolute poetry than form or melody: form as an end, and melody as-an' end, - have resulted in both local and English' sterilisation: and originality' of thought (i.e., inspiration plus 'essential brain wdrk') must come back to tho Muse before bHo 'will become fectfnd of .poetry as distinguished from' guitar libretto." That is all vory' well, but, does Mr. O'Dowd want us thercforo to include mathematician Whowell in our anthologies bccause he once dropped unconsciously into poetry? What lid .Whewell say? "No given- force, however can stretch a cord, however fino, into a horizontal line that shall be absolutely straight." Has "In Memoriam" a bettor verso than that? But is Whewell therefore a poet?'. No, Mr.. O'Dowd's verses aro mostly _ fiery, vivid philosophic prose. His Muse is... stiff in her brilliant blazing armour, hampered,by her)keen sword. Sometimes she comes near to melody: ; Up spiral stairs the skylarks trace :i' You climb towards the stars; J But, ere the cobalt landing, faco My adamintino bars. On petrel wing across the deep Of Death, your thought elate Adventures, back anon to creep . From .the fog-vedcttes of Pate. Only for brief seconds does tho armour fall eway,'arid the supple body, move in a song: . HjJ who stands on the cliff o'er Time ./And looks on the Life below ■ Sees surging from islet clime tcclime , The wind-tossod currents go. . Each wave is a generation knit To the next and the next afar; ~ In the cradle troughs the children sit, On the crests the lovers are. sometimes tho striving successful thought rtops' out, with tho blandness and broadth of gn older day: All is not daylight in the day, •*' Nor knowledge in the known; The life we aro, the. prayer we pray, Prom deep to deep' is blown. Though Eeason claim omniscient worth, ■ And lush her dogmas thrive; Our present home is more than earth, Our senses more than five. ' 'And the mystic who sees tho star-folk throng Where wc but the noon-day blue, Knows no religion yet was wrong And never a myth untrue.

jk had better bo explained that tho poems —"Athena," "Hermes," "Juno," and tho lest—aro not really monologues by. these tods, whom O'Dowd tolls us are still alive; fhey aro discussions of the forces and inluences controlling human lifo. Iu tho D'Dowd manner Hhey are triumphs of tho picturesquo—stimulating, illuminating. To the-philosopher they tell nothing new, but wo Now Zealanders are only footballers. We can "do wi f h"'philosophy in tho pleasant

shape of verse. Let us read O'Dowd. And there aro signs that ho may soon break away from hard and chippy "4-3" verso, for ho iiow r gives a lino of skipping syallablo hero aiid thoro. . Wlion ho ceases thinking hard, and takes tho_ armour from his Muso, ho will bo tho musician ho was meant to bo.