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And in those popular love verses:

made a study of it for those works that most ap

pealed to me. As the author was a recognized auRecorro los caminos solitarios Siempre pensando en ti :

thority in works of literary art and value, my readTú, en tanto, alegre en medio del bullicio,

ers who would begin the like study, may find sug: No te acuerdas de mi!

gestions and directions in it-most of these Spanish Huyo de la ciudad tumultüosa

American authors are Argentines, the product of a
Siempre pensando en ti :

single republic:
Tú, en tanto, ufana, sonriendo acaso,
¡No te acuerdas de mi!

Vicente Fidel Lopes-historiador y literato.
Por los sitios desiertos voi errante,

Vincente G. Quesada-literato.
Siempre pensando en ti :

Cárlos Guido y Spano-poeta notable—“Hojas al
Tú, en tanto, recorriendo los jardines

viento." ; No te acuerdas de mi!

José Marmol-literato y poeta --obras Amalia-El perMas cuando suena la campana un dia

egrino, etc.
Doblando junto a ti ;

Nicolas Avellaneda-constitucionalista.
Cuando pase mi entierro por tu calle,
: Te acordarás de mi!

Pedro Goyena-constitucionalista y escritor.

José Manuel Estrada-constitucionalista.
I walk in solitary ways

Bartolomé Mitre-historiador, poeta y traductor
Always thinking of thee.

(Dante). Thou, gay in the midst of the crowd,

José Maria Pas-historiador (sus célebres memorias). Dost not think of me.

Domingo F. Sarmiento-escritor notable (Civilizacion

y Barbarie y muchas obras de educacion.) But, when the passing bell one day

Eduardo Gutierres-escritor (costumbres criollas). Shall toll near to thee,

Estanislas S. Zeballos-literato (Hayne-Espevicion á And my form is borne through the street,

la Pamp, etc.). Then wilt thou think of me !

Estéban Echeverria-poeta-obras (La Cantiva) (Avel. And in these, even more dulcet and melodious laneda) (Levantamiento del Sud) (Don Juan) y poesias

liricos como “ Canto al Plata." rhythms:

Miguel Cané-literato.
Comparo tus ojos

Osvaldo Manasco-escritor.
Con esos luceros,

Joaquin Gonzales--literato.
Que, temblando siempre cuando tú los miras,

Luis Domingues-historiador argentino.
Alumbran el cielo.

Saldias-historiador argentino “ Historia de Rosas.”
Comparo tus labios

Lucio V. Mansilla-literato (sus célebres “Causeries''). Con esas violetas,

José M. Moreno-codificador.
Que, temblando siempre cuando tú las tocas,

Nicolas Calvo-constitucionalista.
Perfuman la tierra.

Miguel Navaro Viola-literato.
Comparo tu alma

Eduardo Wilde-escritor.
Con las mariposas,

Luis V. Varela-literato.
Que, temblando siempre cuando tú las cojes,
Mueren en la sombra.

Márcos Sastre-escritor notable de obras de educacion

primaria.
I compare thy eyes
With those lights,

Pastor Obligado-escritor.
Which trembling always when thou admirest them,

Rafael Obligado-poeta—“Santos Vega."
Nlume the Heaven.

Joaquin Castellanos-poeta-escritor.

Calixto Oyuela-poeta.
I compare thy lips

Juan Maria Gutierres-poeta.
With those violets,
Which trembling always when thou touchest them,

Ventura de la Vega-poeta—"El César" y otros.
Perfume the earth.

Angel J. Carranza-historiador argentino.

Juan M. Larsen-escritor y literato.
I compare thy life
To those butterflies,

Vicente Lopes y Planes-poeta (Triunfo Argentine) Which trembling always when thou hurtest them,

Himno Nacional.
Die in the shade.

Esteban de Luca – poeta – Arpa perdida y otras As remarkable as it may seem to those unac

poesias.

Olegario V. Andrade-poeto-Prometeo-Nido de con. quainted with South American literature, the Latin

dores-Vuelta al Hogar. American poets are almost as numerous as their or Dean Funes --Historiador “sus ensayos." chids of verse. When, at a literary meeting, I Juan Cruz Varela-poeta—“ Batalla de Ituzaingó” y asked an Argentine writer, what books I should read otras. in order to become intelligent in regard to the coun Florencio Varela-escritor y poeta. try, he said: “There are many; you should read

Alberdi-célebre jurisconsulto. our poets first; I will send you to-morrow a list of

Veles Sarsfield-codificador y periodista.

Guillermo Rawson-orador. the authors of books that I think you ought to

Ricardo Gutierres-poeta—“Salmo de la vida”-etc. study in order to become acquainted with the liter

Mamerto Esqué-orador sagrado-literato. ary spirit of our republics." I will give here the

Labardén-poeta—“Lucia Miranda" drama. memoranda that he sent me, without alteration. It

Estanilas Del Campo – poeta — “Fausts" relación contained the names and works of many Argentine criolla. rriters of whom I had not so much as heard. I Leopoldo Dias-poeta.

Gervasio Mendes-poeta.
Rafael Mendes-poeta.
Martin Coronado-literato.
Manuela Gorriti-escritora notable.
Mariano Pelliza-historiador.
Carlos Uriarte--literato.

Eugenio Cambaceres-escritor—“Silvidos de un vago," etc.

Oristobulo Del Valle—orador y jurisconsulto.
Amancio Alcorta-constitucionalista.
Enrique E. Rivarola-literato.
Andrés Lamas-historiador.
José Tomas Guido-historiador.
José Nicolas Matierys-literato.
Benigno T. Martines-historiador.
Martin Garcia Meron-poeta.

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The memoranda should be useful to the librarian, for the study of South American literature, now limited to a few people, must soon be greatly enlarged, with the new educational and commercial progress. Edwin Arnold is reported as saying that the greatest development of the three Americas is likely to take place on the plains and table lands of the Andes, and the writer of “Social Evolution" has a like view. “ Buenos Ayres," said the great educational President, Sarmiento, the friend of Charles Sumner and Horace Mann,“ will one day become the greatest city in either America," The prophecy may not come true, but the city of the purple seas, skies, and cattle kingdoms, is already one of the most beautiful cities in all America, and her literature is following her Italian sense of Art.

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The most romantic of the Argentine poets is Don Estevan Echeverria, whose Gouchor like soul, caught the spirit of the pampas, and interpreted

LUIS DOMINGUEZ,
Argentine Poet and Statesman.

it to the world. His home was the saddle, and his Parnassus the purple splendors of the plains. He sung as he flew on his steed; the muses followed him. He felt the heart of nature beat, and what be felt, he wrote. He lived when barbarism was dying, and the new age of civilization was flinging into the air the golden spears of the dawn. His early fancies made of little account the restrictions of the critic. “ A Savage of the Pampas." he made a voyage to France, and his studies in the wandering gave to his after work a certain coloring of sentiment and philosophy In his poem “ La Cantiva," he describes the vast and solemn pampas, and the originality and sweep of his theme, and the force of his picturing will ever give the work a fascination which belongs to true interpretation, whatever may be its other defects.

Don Luis Domingues. poet, literator and Argentine statesman was born in Buenos Ayres. After the time when he published his first poems he engaged himself in numerous poetic studies, for the inspiration and correction of his style. He produced many forins of lyrical poems; and songs of

DOMINGO F. SARMIENTO, Argentine Author, Educator and Statesman.

Æneas did not end his journey at Rome; he is building a new empire under the Andes, and if this empire does not fulfill the visions of the prophetic writers that we have quoted, it unquestionably will develop a great future, and the iris of it is already in the sky.

She showered roses, oped her crystal springs,
Her finest carpet she with lilies spread,
And myrtle flowers, and filled the trees
With winged songs, and set her bounds
With rivers longer than the tides of sea.

It is a strange event in the history of the literature of the lands of the Southern Cross, that Salaverry, the soldier, whose end was tragic, should have written the stirring peace poem of his own, or of any age. In this poem the grand pulse beat for humanity is expressed in martial words that lose their force by translation: Ye warriors of freedom ye champions of right,

Sheathe your swords to sweet harmony's strains, No bayonet should gleam and no soldier should fight

Where Liberty glorious reigns. "Melt your lances to ploughshares, your swords into spades,

And furrow for harvests your plains,
No shock of the battle should startle the shades

Where glorious Liberty reigns.
“But Plenty should follow where Peace leads the way,

And Beneficence waken her strains,
Let the war bugles cease and the peace minstrels play

Where Liberty glorious reigns.
* Nor honor is won from battlefield red,

Nor glory from tumult and strife,
That soldier is only by godlike thought led
Who offers his country his life."

Don Juan Godoy whose sublime and glorious ode to the Cordilleras of the Andes will compare with Coleridge's “Hymn in the Valley of Chamouni,” was born in Mendoza, in 1873. He is one of the greatest of the later South American poets. At Mendoza, San Martin organized his army for the liberation of Chili and Peru. The trans-Andine route starts from here, at first following the windings of the Mendoza River. The Cordillera here is thirteen thousand feet high, and over it looms the stupendous dome of Tupungato, in its winter of eternal silence, sheeted with spotless snow. Beyond it rises Aconcagua, higher than Mont Blanc would be were it to wear Mt. Washington for a hood—and whose base is lost in the mysteries of the ocean world. The sight of these peaks probably became a haunting vision to Godoy, and although before such a theme, language struggles for utterance, he produced a most sublime apostrophe, one that to read is an eternal recollection. His thoughts in this ode can be produced, but the music of the poem can only be known through the Spanish tongue, as witness the opening lines:

En que tiempo, en cual dia, ó en que hova.
No es grandioso, soberbio é imponente
Altísima montana,
Tu aspecto majestoso !
Grande, si el primer rayo de la aurora
Se refleja en las nieves de tu frente
Grande, si desde in medio del espacio
El sol las illumina.
Y magnifico, en fin, si en el ocaso.
Tras de la onda salada y cristalina,
Su disco fefulgente se ha escondido
Dejando en tu alta cumbre,
Algun rayo de luz que nos alumbre,
Aunque no veamos ya de do ha partido.

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love—of his country and domestic life, with equal power, and described with rare skill the natural history and customs of his own land. Besides his articles in the periodicals of the Plata, he produced works of merit, among others the history of Argentina. He was engaged in public work in Uruguay and Argentina. He was active in the national and provincial congresses of his own country, and was eminent for patriotism, social position and worth of character. He, for a time, filled the office of minister plenipotentiary of Argentina to Peru.

Don Jose Marmol, whose beautiful tomb is a shrine in the marble walls of the Recoleta of the Palermo of Buenos Ayres, was of gentle blood. He was for many years the librarian of his native city. He had the poetic fire of Echeverria; he felt the grandeur of his native skies, seas, plains and mountains, but he united a refined culture with his work, and tamed his glowing visions with the law of art.

BERNARDINO RIVADAVIA,
First President of the Argentine Republic.

It is delightful to listen to this sympathetic and affluent interpreter, as he touches his chords to the “ Tropics:”

The Tropics—shining palace of the Southern Cross,
Whose founts of life o'er all creation pour
Their wealth of splendor and their vital power!
When Nature saw her third creation fail
She fled the poles and to the Tropics climbed.
God said " Enough"-She was the future world
She caught his breath, and his reflected eye,
And set on high her primal throne of light
Bathed in the amber of celestial air.

Mighty Cordilleras,
When comes the hour when thee I do not find,
Majestic, grand, sublime,
Grand when the sun's first ray
Thy brow of snow reflects;
Glorious, in space, when high ascends the sun;
Magnificent, at last, when leaves the sun thy peaks,

Gleaming in splendor o'er the crystal waves ! Some of the thoughts of this apostrophe, which is really an ode to liberty, have an awesome sublimity:

The Condor in his flight
Leaves clouds behind him,
And ascends the skies,
But has never left
The impress of his gory talons

On thy crests of snow !
Again:

What were the Alps, the Caucasus
The Pyrenees, the Atlas and the Apennines
If they were neighbors to thy front
O Chimborazo !

Immense Cordilleras,
Where the ice sheds not a rain drop,
In the blaze of day, but whose pedestal
Uplifts a peak colossal, that appears

The pillar of the firmament. The female poet who has the South American ear and favor is Dona Gertrudis Gomez de Avellaneda who was born in Puerto Principe, Cuba, in 1816. She caught the spirit of liberty, and one of the finest of her poems is a sonnet to Washington.

A WASHINGTON.
No en lo pasado á tu virtud modelo,
Ni copia al porvenir dará la historia,
Ni el laurel immortal de tu victoria
Marchitarán los siglos en su vuelo.

Si con rasgos de sangre guarda el suelo
Del coloso del Sena la memoria,
Cual astro puro brillará tu gloria
Nunca empañada por oscuro velo.

Mientras la fama las virtudes cuente
Del héroe ilustre que cadenas lima
Y a la cerviz de los tiranos doma.

Alza gozosa, América, tu frente,
Que al Cincinato que formó tu clima
Le admira el mundo, y te lo envidia Roma.

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Let me but share in some fair coming day
A cottage thatched and isled in verdure, 'mong
The fragrant branches where birds tell their lore.
Peaceful tranquillity shall there
My soul exempt from fear and care.
The city's inpure air will not come there,
Nor palaces of ostentatious life
Shut out my sun.
There Envy will not wend her way,
Nor Calumny, nor Perfidy,
Nor Covetousness,
But in the evening, I will wait to see
The tired laborer pass the brookside by
Who brings a happy family support.
'Tis such as he, a village honors
With his simple work.
The solitary palms and willows green
Shall be my temples ; there shall rise my prayers,
With the pure fragrances of buds and flowers.
So pictures Hope, beyond ambition's dreams,
The pathway of my soul; there I shall be
A mountain oak, a rock amid the sea.

66

The past could give no model of thy virtue,
Nor history any copy; the centuries
In their flight cannot wither
Thy immortal laurel.
If with gashes of gore the native land
Of the statue of Sena guard his memory,
Thy glory that has never known a shadow
Will live a pure and brilliant star.
While Fame recounts the deeds
Of the illustrious hero who broke the chains
And tamed the neck of tyrants.
America, rejoice, and lift thy front.
For admires the world, and envies Rome

The Cincinnatus, whom thy clime gave birth. Beautifully sings Avellaneda to " Hope” (A la Esperanza).

Come, O thou Diva, I implore thy favor,
Show me the vision of thy winsome face,
I ask not fame or wealth : I only ask thy place.

We have given here an outline of the thought of this grand poem--an outline merely, as a picture of the ideal of a true Latin-American poet, whom all American women should honor. Come 0 Then Diva," is a notable page of philosophical poetry, as a conclusion of introspection and an interpretation of life.

The great poet and poetic scholar of Chili is Senor Don de la Barra, although Guillermo Matta has been called the Byron of this land of progress between the oceans and under the mountain towers. The verse of the former rings with hope, and has the tinge of the glory of new horizons, while that of the latter is melancholy and misanthropic, a vision of clouded stars.

Eduardo de la Barra was born in Santiago de Chili on February 9, 1839. He belongs to a diplomatic family, and received the most liberal education. A diplomat, as well as a man of letters and of almost universal knowledge, he was a coadjutor of Balmaceda, and left Chili and took up his residence in Rosario in the Argentine Republic, after the great Chilian President fell. He accepted an educational appointment in Argentina, which he held until changing politics made his return to Chili favorable. He is a gentleman of fine face, quick sympathies, liberal views, and Castilian manners. He has published several volumes of poems, and his life has been written by Leonardo Elit. (1889).

But the most popular of the Latin-American poets, and one of the true children of genius of the world, is Manuel Acana, a descendant a humble family, who was born in Saltillo, Mexico, in 1849. His history is romantic and touching; in some points it re

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sembles Chatterton, for it ended in clouds and darkness; his sun went out at noon. His poetic endowments were exalted and multiple; he was a voice of the democracy of Mexico, and so of the spirit of South American republics. His fiery zeal for the democratic principle, for the cause of the people, was toned and refined by a nature full of pure and true affections. He loved his father with a fervor that has seldom found in verse so intense an expression. Amid his rising fame he was true to his simple home, and it is the home poet, like a Horace, a Scott, a Goldsmith, a Longfellow whose verses creep into the heart of the world. His patriotism, his love of his father, and a shadowy romance that brings a touch of pity to his last young days, has made him at once the Keats and the Burns of Latin America. One who could write:

"Mi Madre, la que vive todavia, puesto que vivo yo.” would never want for hearts or readers. The poets of sympathy outlast all the others.

He was an enthusiastic student of the sciences, and he founded a literary academy in Mexico, of which he became the guiding light.

His genius was self-consuming; the sword was too sharp for the scabbard. His beloved father died, he was unhappy in an affair of the heart, and with his own hands he closed the door of life, and so left a shadow. on his works and his memory.

His poem on the death of his father called “ Tears" is tears, if ever words were such.

“ Over my cradle
Where ever the songs of night lulled me to sleep
The blue sky floated ;
Two stars were there that beamed when they saw me.
To-morrow when I lift my eyes towards the shadowy space
Over that cradle will be a void.

Thou art vanished-of the book of darkness
I have not the knowledge or the key.
In the grave wherein thou slumberest
I know not if there be room for love;
I know not if the sepulcher can love life,
But in the dense obscurity I know
There lives a spark that glows and trembles.
I know that the sweetest of all names
Is that I utter when I call on thee,
And that in the religion of remembrances
Thou art the God I love.

Father sleep-my trembling heart
Sends thee its song, and leaves thee its farewell.
My love illuminates thy lonely grave
And over thee in the eternal night
That veils thy tomb my soul will be a star."

His poem on the “Fifth of May" is a picture of his love for Mexico, for whose welfare and glory he was willing to die:

My country,
God gave thee a soldier in every man
And in every soldier a hero!
Thou hast entered a new era,
An era of progress and glory,
To thee it comes to-day
Heaven's kiss of love
Upon thy benner,

THE LAST OF THE GOUCHORS—THE WANDERING MINSTRELS

OF THE PAMPAS.

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