Pierced to the heart; words are keener than steel,

And mightier far for woe or for weal.

Were it not well in this brief little journey.

On over the isthmus, down into the tide,

That we give him a fish instead of a serpent,

Ere folding the hands to be and abide For ever and aye in dust at his side?

Look at the roses saluting each other; Look at the herds all at peace on the plain

Man, and man only, makes war on his brother,

And dotes in his heart on his peril and pain

Shamed by the brutes that go down on the plain.

Why should we envy а moment of pleasure

Some poor fellow-mortal has wrung from it all?

Oh! could you look into life's broken

measure

Look at the dregs- at the wormwood and gall

Look at his heart hung with crape like a pall

Look at the skeletons down by his hearthstone

Look at his cares in their merciless

sway

I know you would go and say tenderly, lowly,

Brother, my brother, for aye and a day,

Lo! Lethe is washing the blackness

away.

-MILLER.

From the Bear Edition, HARR WAGNER, Publisher.

PROPHECY OF SAN FRANCISCO.

Dared I but say a prophecy, As sang the holy men of old, Of rock-built cities yet to be Along these shining shores of gold, Crowding athirst into the sea, What wondrous marvels might be told! Enough to know that empire here Shall burn her loftiest, brightest star Here art and Eloquence shall reign, As o'er the wolf-reared realm of old; Here learn'd and famous from afar, To pay their noble court, shall come, And shall not seek or see in vain, But look and look with wonder dumbFrom "Joaquin Murietta."

Here, too, was "Benoni," later called the "Tale of the Tall Alcaldi," which contained the figure:

"Where mountains repose in their blue

ness

Where the sun first lands in his newness,
To gather his beams and his lances
Ere down to the vale he advances
With visor erect, and encounters
The terrible night in his way,

And slays him and out of his blackness
Hews out the beautiful day,

With his flashing sword of silver,
Dwelt I,"

-which, though slightly, yet not vitally, changed in the "Songs of the Sierras," was pointed out later by the London "Spectator" as a striking example of originality and freshness.

And here, too, was his famous description of himself which the good San Franciscans overlooked:

"It may be where white moonbeams kneel

At night beside some rugged steep;
It may be where mad breakers reel,
Or mild waves cradle one to sleep;
It might have been in peaceful life,
Or mad tumult and storm and strife,
I drew my breath; it matters not.
A silver'd head, a sweetest cot,
A sea of tamarack and pine,
A peaceful stream, a balmy clime,
A cloudless sky, a sister's smile,
A mother's love that sturdy Time
Has strengthen'd as he strengthen'd

wine,

Are mine, are with me all the while,
Are hung in memory's sounding halls,
Are graven on her glowing walls.
But rage, nor rack, nor wrath of man,
Nor prayer of priest, nor price, nor ban
Can wring from me their place or name,
Or why, or when, or whence I came;
Or why I left that childhood home."

There is such a thing as being too busy looking at pebbles to see the mountains.

Of the first Oregon book, "Specimens," the most important survival is a quatrain printed at the head of "Shadows:" "And full these truth's eternal O'er the yearning spirit steal, That the real is the ideal And the ideal is the real."

This is printed early in the "Songs of the Soul." "The Last of the Taschastas" contained, otherwise the best of "Specimens" although this poem was much modified when reproduced in the "Songs of the Sierras." In "Specimens" this poem was called "Lou Ellah."

One thing more about the the "Second

Book"-Miller had written Charles Warren Stoddard who was practically a member of the staff of the "Overland" asking him to pen a review of "Joaquin." The review copy was duly sent. But Stoddard had gone to Hawaii, and when the message and book followed him over the Pacific, Stoddard passed them on his return to California. So when the poems at last arrived at Stoddard's hand, it was too late for a timely review. But when Joaquin after the shower of London glory was thought worthy of extend

ed magazine notice, Stoddard sympathetically wrote of the early work of the poet:

"He was original, to say the least; and being original was ingenuous, and being ingenuous was most refreshing. Never had a breezier bit of human nature dawned upon me this side of the South Seas than that Poet of the Sierras when he came to San Francisco in 1870."

But Charlie Stoddard even then could not fail to see the funny side of "To the Bards of San Francisco Bay," which no

doubt the author intended as a serious tribute. But the "Bards of San Francisco Bay" to Stoddard were a joke; "From country come to join the youth Of some sweet town in quest of truth," indeed seemed very absurd especially when that town was San Francisco. Well it WAS far-drawn and Stoddard could hardly be blamed for using his gentle shafts of humor upon it. But this, had it been printed on the first appearance of "Joaquin," would have been better than Bret Harte's silence and Ina Coolbrith's faint praise.

Stoddard finally in 1890 presented Miller to Harte but without moving the imperturbable editor further in the Oregonian's favor; and to Ina Coolbrith, concerning whom Miller whispered the elegant line from Tennyson:

"Divinely tall, and most divinely fair." Ina Coolbrith, would she do so, could tell some interesting tales of Joaquin and his aspirations; for she knew him well later. That she finally came to a just appreciation can be seen in her "Vale Joaquin," read at the scattering of the poet's ashes on the pyre in May after his death.

"March 26 (1871)," wrote the poet in his Journal, "Eureka! The St. James Gazette says 'Arizonian' is written by Browning."

This was after "Pacific Poems" came out a thin book, of less than one hundred pages, with no publisher, and paid for with the proceeds of a pawned gold watch.

This booklet contained, beside the "Arizonian," a lengthy piece, "The Oregonian." With the glowing press notices greeting this new collection, Joaquin went straight to the biggest publishers and immediately contracted with Longruans & Co. for his fourth volume, "Songs of the Sierras."

In a single night he had leaped from the obscurity of an adventurous wanderer to recognition as a great and original poet. The reports of Joaquin's sudden fame, drifting across the waters, were calculated to give very wrong impressions in the West of his successes.

The English press had said some things of Byron and Miller. "The Saturday Review" had said "The Faults of (Miller's) matter are faults inherent in Byronism; the faults of his form are excusable in one who can have had but little opportunity of familiarizing himself with literary models. But there is at least one point in which the American poet possesses incontestable superiority over his English Model. It is not upon the dreams of a morbid imagination, but upon his own actual experience, upon materials derived from an adventurous life upon the borders of civilization, that he has drawn- Hence, even in his most feverish and over-charged passages there is a ring of genuineness which is absent from Byron's poetry."

It is William Michael Rosetti, poet art-critic, brother of Dante Gabriel Rosetti who wrote this critique for "The Academy" in an article which makes seven closely printed columns (see p. 504, Volume 110, "Littell's Living Age)." This is the general estimate our critic gives:

"We have emphatically to pronounce him an excellent and fascinating poet qualified by these, his first works, to take rank among the distinguished poets of the time, and to greet them as peers.'

Who are these distinguished poets? Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, Rosetti, Matthew Arnold. This critic finds, lastly let it be said, in Miller's poems, traces of powers which make a Browning, and musical qualities which make a Swinburne Other English reviews were no less emphatic in their estimates. But there was only one item of all this that drifted to far Oregon-Joaquin was influenced by Lord Byron. In the minds of Miller's political enemies along the Willamette, this item meant that Joaquin stole his verse; and this they vigorously used against him; for he might return to Oregon laden with his new honors and win in spite of their opposition the place he wanted on the State Supreme Bench. So they fought him tooth and nail, these puny politicians, and saw to it that the name "plagiarist" stuck to him. Even today the Old Ore

gonian harking back to these troublous times will tell you that

Heine Miller copied his poetry. Truly he was without fame in his own land! Now doubtless the truth about Byron's influence is this: Joaquin, like other young poets of his day, read Byron and youth-like, was charmed with Byronic music and melancholy, and doubtless was strongly, but not vitally influenced. His mind had a photographic sensitiveness and he was readily touched by any beauty or strength of thought in what he read. Other poets, Tennyson, Markham, and the great swarm of lesser singers have been influenced by Byron in the same way.

"The Arizonian" was selected by English reviewers as the best in "Songs of the Sierras"; and in this judgment it is agreed. Almost a monologue, it has the rapid rush and fire possible in that style of composition. It is full of passion. It draws a vivid picture of the man who speaks, and his sorrow to think love has been sacrificed to a life devoted to gold-getting:

"For what is it all, in the words of fire,

But a vexing of soul and a vain desire?"

The index of the English edition of "Songs of the Sierras" contained "Arizonian"; "With Walker in Nicaragua"; "The Californian" (later called "Joaquin Murietta"); "Ina"; "The Tale of the Tall Alcalde"; "Burns and Byron," and "The Last of the Taschastas."

When the "Songs were published in America "Kit Carson's Ride," "Myrrh" and "Even So" were added.

"The Songs of the Sierras" closes the first period of Joaquin Miller's literary career; but his greater work was yet to come; and he was destined after years of wandering in many lands to return to his beloved Sierra Nevadas and to still further tell the great romantic story of gold mines and pioneers as well as to sing of his own tireless wanderings.

The "Songs of the Sierras" were dedicated to his daughter, Maud, in the following exquisite lines: