Poet-lore
Vol. IV.
No. 1.
wilt thou not haply ſaie
Truth needs no collour with his collour fixt,
Beautie no penſell, beauties truth to lay:
But beſt is beſt, if neuer intermixt
Becauſe he needs no praiſe, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuſe not ſilence ſo, for’t lies in thee,
To make him much out-liue a gilded tombe:
And to be praiſed of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office
A MODERN BOHEMIAN NOVELIST:
JAKUB ARBES.
HE Bohemian literature of the present is about as much known in America as the religious views of the Papuans. And yet it can, both as to quality and quantity, honorably compete with any of the European literatures. No country can boast of having produced a poet who would, like the Bohemian Vrchlický, within fifteen years publish sixty successful books of verse, real pearls of poetry! The Bohemian language of itself is worthy of study. Its treasury of words is inexhaustible, its ability to express the finest shades of thought is almost unequalled. (See Westminster Review, vol. xii. p. 304 et seq.: ‘The Larklet.’) The only thing pointed to as a difficulty in learning this language is, in truth, its merit,—viz., the great variety of forms (Westminster Review, vol. cxii. pp. 413–444). Besides, the phonetical orthography renders the study twice easier. And the intellectual benefit derived from the study of the language would fully compensate the student.
The author whose name heads this article is a Bohemian novelist
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