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he went to Columbia to be editor of the South Carolinian. About this time he was married to Miss Kate Goodwin, heroine of some of his best poems.

In the midst of ruin on all sides, the poverty of his friends and of himself, he suffered the crowning blow in the loss of his darling son, Willie. Consumption had already laid hold on himself also, and October 6, 1867, he was placed at rest by the side of his son in Trinity Churchyard, Columbia. The premonition expressed in A Common Thought was literally fulfilled:"As it purples in the zenith,

As it brightens on the lawn,

There's a hush of death about me,
And a whisper, 'He is gone !'"

APPRECIATIONS

"Timrod always sings true; and you may be sure, whenever you open his volume, to find, as in the Sortes Virgiliance, a line of peculiar and vital meaning. His style, midway between the elaborateness of Tennyson and the weedy naturalness of Wordsworth, bears a great resemblance to Lowell's, but has perhaps more grace and less power. In some places it is colorless, sculptural, Poean, and you forget the fact of reading, so wonderfully does the thought become an almost visible presence. A few traces of imitation, appearing in his earlier lays, point to Tennyson, but

with a similarity of spirit more than form, a likeness which lay in the nature of the man, and would have grown out in its own earnest way had Tennyson never existed. He displays a certain curiosa felicitas in the beginnings and endings of several poems, which make them linger in the mind when weightier verses have slipped away. This does not result from verbal trickery, but happens just as the smile of some plain woman makes you a friend from the moment of meeting, while a more faultless beauty may fade from fancy when she leaves the sight."

HENRY AUSTIN: International Review, September, 1880. "... Timrod's was probably the most finely endowed mind to be found in Carolina, or indeed in the whole South, at this period. His German blood and his inherited qualities had given him a greater artistic endowment than any other Southern writer, save Poe, had been blessed with. . . . He has not left much work behind him, and that work is marred by the effects which constant sickness and poverty and the stress of war necessarily had upon his genius; but he has left a few singularly beautiful poems, and one at least, the ode written for the occasion of the decoration of the Confederate graves in Magnolia Cemetery, that approximates perfection, the perfection of Collins, not that of Lovelace."

— W. P. TRENT: The Life of W. G. Simms.

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PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE

Paul Hamilton Hayne was of a fine old English family which settled in Carolina in the early colonial days. He was a nephew of Robert Y. Hayne and the only son of Lieutenant P. H. Hayne of the United States navy. He was born in Charleston, January 1, 1830. Paul's father died during his infancy, and he had to look to Governor Hayne for a father's care.

The Hayne family was wealthy, so that Paul got the best college preparation his home city could afford. He was graduated at Charleston College in 1852. He early showed his love for letters, and had association with the people of best brain and best blood in Charleston.

His first literary work was the editorship of Russel's Magazine. His first volume of verse appeared in Boston in 1855, the second in 1857, the third in 1859. His Complete Poems was published in 1882. His poems may be found in the files of every important literary magazine, North and South.

He was married to Miss Mary Middleton Michel, of Charleston. It was the good fortune of Hayne, as it was of Lanier and of Timrod, to find continual support and encouragement in a wife's appreciation. The only child, William Hamilton Hayne, is a writer of graceful, epigrammatic verse.

During the war he was a member of the staff of Governor Pickens. Ill health forbade active service; but his stirring war lyrics did much to encourage his fellow-Southerners. By the forces of the enemy his property, including his splendid library, was destroyed. Broken in fortune but not in courage or in intellect, he moved to the Georgia pine lands. near Augusta, and established himself at "Copse Hill," Grovetown. There he spent the remainder of his days in manly independence; there he died July 6, 1886.

APPRECIATIONS

"Hayne's vitality, courage, and native lyrical impulse have kept him in voice, and his people regard him with a tenderness which, if a commensurate largesse were added, should make him feel less solitary among his pines."

-STEDMAN: Poets of America.

"The Mountain of the Lovers, the Macrobian Bow, Macdonald's Raid, Unveiled, the Vengeance of the Goddess Diana, and the Solitary Lake, are works worth the crown of an academy. As a sonneteer, Hayne was strong, ranking well with the best in America, and his descriptive verse is often very melo

dious and full of warm, harmonious color. His muse never was quite Southern, though the man was; and we feel as we read, that Keats and Shelley and Tennyson and Wordsworth have influenced him almost as much as the blue skies, the fiery sun, and the moaning pines of the sub-tropic. And yet what intensely radical Southern sentiment he sometimes voiced! On the other hand, too, what luxury of Southern sights, sounds, tastes, perfumes, and colors we enjoy in his poem, Muscadines, than which no lesser genius than Shelley or Keats ever penned a better or a richer.”

- MAURICE THOMPSON: Literature, September 22, 1888.

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"No more simple and refined gentleman was ever nurtured in the old South. If he lacked Simm's vigor and powers of varied accomplishment, or Timrod's artistic self-control, his genius was, nevertheless, more receptive, more keenly alive to the beauties of nature and of art. Without lacking virility, he charms chiefly by his possession of traits of character distinctively feminine. His gentleness, his receptivity, his delicacy of feeling, his facility in surrendering himself to the domination of master minds, are all feminine traits, some of which have impaired the value of his poetry, but which have combined to give a unique charm to his personality."

- W. P. TRENT: The Life of W. G. Simms.

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