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DEERHURST.
University and College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York city, he entered the Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at which he graduated in 1835. The following year he opened an of- fice, as physician and surgeon, in Newark, New Jersey. In 1842 he married Caroline E. Ackerman, daughter of Jonathan C. and Maria S. Ackerman, of New Brunswick, New Jersey. She died in 1845, leaving one son and one daughter.
Dr. Coles soon won a high position in
scribed the bloody scenes of which he was an eye-witness. Returning to Newark he at once resumed practice. At this time he was regarded as the most accomplished practitioner in Newark, eminent alike for his professional and literary acquirements. In 1853 and 1854 he was again abroad, traveling extensively, studying the conti- nental languages and adding largely to his store of medical knowledge by contact with the most eminent physicians and surgeons of Europe. At Florence he made the ac-
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quaintance of the Brownings, Hiram Pow- ers and others then and subsequently dis- tinguished for their attainments in litera- ture and art. In September, 1854, he took passage for home, on the Arctic, but after leaving Liverpool, he had his ticket made good for the following steamer, and then disembarked at Queenstown. The Arctic proceeded on her voyage, was run into by a small French steamer, called the Vesta, off Cape Race, in a dense fog, and sunk, with a loss of three hundred and twenty- two lives.
But the life, character and celebrity of Dr. Coles, eminent as he was as physician and surgeon, are chiefly connected with his literary and scholarly attainments, his pub- lished writings, and particularly his relig- ious hymns and translations, which have given him a world-wide reputation. He had early in his professional career been a contributor to various periodicals, but it was not until "Wednesday evening, March 17, 1847," that his first translation of the "Dies Iræ" appeared in the Newark Daily Advertiser, from a copy of which, after an interval of more than fifty years, we now quote :-
In the following version of that fine old specimen of Latin rhyme, the Dies Irae, the translator is fully conscious of not having done justice to the sounding cadence, exquisite rhythm, barbaric strength and beautiful simplicity of the original. This powerful poem, the composition of a monk who lived in the twelfth century, while it has commanded the admira- tion of critics generally, upon many eminent charac- ters it would seem to have exercised a wonderful in- fluence. It is stated of Dr. Johnson that he could never read the verse commencing, "Quaerens me sedisti lassus" without bursting into tears. It was a great favorite likewise with Sir Walter Scott. His "Lay of the Last Minstrel" contains a partial translation, and we are told by his kinsmen and biographer that in his last hours of life and reason he was overheard repeating portions of the Latin original. The Earl of Roscommon likewise uttered in the moment when he expired, with great energy and devotion, two lines of his own version of the seventeenth stanza-
"My God, my Father and my Friend, Do not forsake me in my end."
Goethe introduces snatches of it in his "Faust." To these names might be added many others who have
borne similar testimony to its extraordinary merit. This is farther shown by the numerous translations which have been made into various languages. In Ger- many particularly there has been a surprising num- ber,-some executed by her first poets. With them care has generally been taken to preserve the trochaic ending and double rhyme of the Latin. The almost universal neglect of this in English versions is a great defect, which can only be accounted for by the difficulties involved in the retention. A translation which appeared some
years ago in forms the New York Evangelist (October, 1841) the only known exception and was highly applauded as an exemplification of success where everybody had failed. But doubtless it was the arduousness of the task that so far conciliated criticism as to lead to the most indulgent blindness to material faults. It were presumption, however, in the present translator to think that he has succeeded much better in overcom- ing the difficulties referred to. It is well known that this Hymn has been set to music of the sublimest ex- cellence, forming, as it does, the subject of Mozart's "Requiem," the last and best of his immortal com- positions, the excitement of preparing whioh, it is said, hastened his death.
TRANSLATION.
Day of wrath, that day of burning, All shall melt, to ashes turning, As foretold by seers discerning.
O what fear shall it engender
When the Judge shall come in splendor, Strict to mark and just to render.
Trumpet scattering sounds of wonder, Rending sepulchers asunder, Shall resistless summons thunder.
All aghast then Death shall shiver And great Nature's frame shall quiver When the graves their dead deliver.
Book where every act's recorded, All events all time afforded, Shall be brought and dooms awarded.
When shall sit the Judge unerring, He'll unfold all here occurring. No just vengeance then deferring.
What shall I say that time pending? Ask what Advocate's befriending When the just man needs defending?
King almighty and all knowing, Grace to sinners freely showing, Save me, Fount of good o'erflowing.
Think, Oh Jesus, for what reason Thou endur'dst earth's spite and treason, Nor me lose in that dread season.
Seeking me Thy worn feet hasted. On the cross Thy soul death tasted, Let such labor not be wasted.
Righteous Judge of retribution, Grant me perfect absolution Ere that day of execution.
Culprit like. I, heart all broken. On my cheek shame's crimson token, Plead the pardoning word be spoken.
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Thou who Mary gav'st remission, Heard'st the dying Thief's petition, Cheered'st with hope my lost condition.
Though my prayers do nothing merit, What is needful, Thou confer it, Lest I endless fire inherit.
Mid the sheep a place decide me, And from goats on left divide me, Standing on the right beside Thee.
When th' accurs'd away are driven, To eternal burnings given, Call me with the bless'd to Heav'n.
I beseech Thee, prostrate lying, Heart as ashes, contrite, sighing, Care for me when I am dying.
On that awful day of wailing, Human destinies unveiling, When man rising, stands before Thee, Spare the culprit, God of Glory. A. C.
This translation undoubtedly attracted the attention and admiration of scholars throughout the literary world. Harriet Beecher Stowe introduced a portion of it into her Uncle Tom's Cabin, and Henry Ward Beecher had it set to music for his Plymouth Collection of Hymns.
In 1859 Dr. Coles published, with some slight alterations, this translation, together with twelve other versions which he had made since 1847. This volume, entitled "Dies Ira in Thirteen Original Versions" (sixth edition, 1892), appeared in the Ap- pleton's best style of binding, and con- tained an introduction, history of the hymn, music, and photographic illustra- tions of the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo, Rubens, Cornelius, and Ary Scheffer. The book met with immediate success.
James Russell Lowell, in the Atlantic Monthly said: "Dr. Coles has made, we think, the most successful attempt at an English translation of the Hymn that we have ever seen. He has done so well that we hope he will try his hand on some of the other Latin Hymns. By rendering them
in their own metres, and with as large a transfusion of their spirit as characterizes his present attempt, he will be doing a real service to the lovers of that kind of reli- gious poetry in which neither the religion or poetry is left out. He has shown that he knows the worth of faithfulness."
Richard Grant White, in a critical re- view, spoke of the work as "one of great in- terest, and an admirable tribute from American scholarship and poetic taste to the supreme nobility of the original poem. Dr. Coles," he says, "has shown a fine ap- preciation of the spirit and rhythmic move- ment of the hymn, as well as unusual com- mand of language and rhyme; and we much doubt whether any translation of the 'Dies Ira,' better than the first of the thir- teen, will ever be produced in English, ex- cept perhaps by himself. As to the translation of the hymn, it is perhaps the most difficult task that could be under- taken. To render 'Faust' or the 'Songs of Egmont' into fitting English numbers would be easy in comparison."
James W. Alexander, D. D., and Will- iam R. Williams, D. D., scholars whose critical acumen and literary ability were universally recognized, pronounced the first two "the best of English versions in double rhyme," while the Rev. Samuel Irenæus Prime, D. D., in the New York Observer, said, "We are not sure but that the last version, which is in the same meas- ure as Crashaw's, but in our judgment far superior, will please the general taste most of all." The Christian (Quarterly) Re- view said,-"Dr. Coles' first translation stands, we believe, not only unsurpassed, but unequaled in the English language." The Rt. Rev. John Williams, D. D., LL. D., bishop of the diocese of Connecticut,
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wrote,-"Your first version is decidedly the best one with which I am acquainted."
William Cullen Bryant, in the Evening Post, wrote,-"There are few versions that will bear to be compared with these; we are surprised that they are all so well done." Rev. Dr. James McCosh, D. D., LL. D., president of the College of New Jersey, Princeton, wrote to Dr. Coles-"I wonder how you could have drawn out thirteen translations of the 'Dies Irae,' all in the spirit and manner of the original, and yet so different. I thought each the best as I read it."
"If not all of equal excellence," said George Ripley, in the New York Tribune, "it is hard to decide as to their respective merits, so admirably do they embody the tone and sentiments of the original, in vig- orous and expressive verse. The essays which precede and follow the hymn, exhibit the learning and the taste of the translator in a most favorable light, and show that an antiquary and a poet have not been lost in the study of science and the practice of a laborious profession."
Lady Jane Franklin, wife of Sir John Franklin, while on her visit to this coun- try, met Dr. Coles at the home of a mutual friend. Congeniality of tastes, as well as the interest taken by Dr. Coles in the search for her husband, ripened the ac- quaintanceship into that of mutual regard and friendship. Among the Doctor's let- ters we find the following, in Lady Frank- lin's handwriting :
"New York, October 22, 1860.
"Dr. Abraham Coles :
"Dear Sir :- I cannot deny myself the pleasure of thanking you once more for your most beautiful little book, the 'Dies Iræ in Thirteen Original Versions,' which
I value, not only for its intrinsic merit, but as an expression of your very kind feelings toward me. Believe me,
"Gratefully and truly yours, Jane Franklin."
In 1865 he published his first translation of the passion hymn, "Stabat Mater Dolo- rosa," which, like "Dies Ira," has been made the theme of some of the most cele- brated musical compositions. It was set to music in the sixteenth century by Pales- trina, and has inspired the compositions of Haydn, Bellini, Rossini, and others. The prima donna, Clara Louise Kellogg, in Rossini's "Stabat Mater," used Dr. Coles' translation. Dr. Philip Schaff, alluding to some eighty German and several English translations that had been made up to that time said: "Dr. Coles has best succeeded in a faithful rendering of the Mater Dolo- rosa. His admirable English version care- fully preserves the measure of the origi- nal." In 1866 appeared his "Old Gems in New Settings" (third edition, 1891), in which many treasured old Latin hymns, in- cluding "De Contemptu Mundi" and "Ve- ni Sancti Spiritus," are skillfully and grace- fully translated. In the following year he published his translation of "Stabat Mater Speciosa" (second edition, 1891).
In 1866, before the centennial meeting of the New Jersey State Medical Society, held in Rutgers College, New Brunswick, and of which he was president, Dr. Coles read his poem entitled "The Microcosm," which was published with the proceedings of the society. This poem was subse- quently (in 1881) published in a volume containing "The Microcosm (fifth edition, 1891), National Lyrics, and Miscellaneous Poems," together with three additional versions of "Dies Ira." The volume was
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favorably criticised both in this country and Europe. The Hon. Justin McCarthy, of England, wrote: "I am surprised to see, in looking through your volume, 'The Microcosm, and other Poems,' that you have been able to add three more versions to those you have already made of that wonderful Latin hymn, 'Dies Iræ.' Cer- tainly it is the most difficult to translate. I like your last version especially." "The idea of 'The Microcosm,'" said John G. Whittier, "is novel and daring, but it is worked out with great skill and delicacy." In lines of easy and flowing verse the au- thor sets forth with a completeness cer- tainly remarkable, and with great power and beauty, the incomparable marvels of structure and functions of the human body.
As an example, we quote a few lines from the section on "Muscular Dynamics."
Bundles of fleshy fibres without end, Along the bony Skeleton extend In thousand-fold directions from fixed points To act their several parts upon the Joints; Adjustments nice of means to ends we trace, With each dynamic filament in place; But where's the Hand that grasps the million reins,
Directs and guides them, quickens or restrains? See the musician, at his fingers' call, All sweet sounds scatter, fast as rain drops fall; With flying touch, he weaves the web of song, Rhythmic as rapid, intricate as long. Whence this precision, delicacy, and ease? And where's the Master that defines the keys? The many-jointed Spine, with link and lock To make it flexile while secure from shock, Is pierced throughout, in order to contain The downward prolongation of the brain; From which, by double roots, the Nerves arise- One Feeling gives, one Motive Power supplies; In opposite directions, side by side, With mighty swiftness there two currents glide- Winged, head and heel, the Mercuries of Sense Mount to the regions of Intelligence; Instant as light, the nuncios of the throne Command the Muscles that command the Bone.
In Europe one of the most enthusiastic admirers of "The Microcosm." was the late Dr. Theodor Billroth, professor of surgery in Vienna. The New York Herald says : "The poems that follow 'The Microcosm,' are mainly religious, and, for simplicity, feeling, and, withal, great scholarship, have
been equaled by no hymn writers of this country." "The flavor of 'The Micro- cosm.' " said the New York Times, "is most quaint, suggesting on the religious side George Herbert, and on the materialistic side the elder Darwin. Some of the hymns for children are beautiful in their simplic- ity and truth."
EVEN ME.
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, Thou canst perfect praise to Thee! Wilt thou not accept the worship, Humbly rendered, Lord, by me? . Even me.
Things that to the wise are hidden, Children's eyes are made to see; Thee to know is life eternal, O reveal Thyself to me!
Even me.
Thou hast given me power of loving, Give me power of serving Thee, Is there not some humble service Which can now be done by me? Even me.
Hands and feet should ne'er grow weary When employed, dear Lord, for Thee; Tongue should never cease the telling Of Thy grace who diedst for me. Even me.
Infant mouths need not be silent, Stammering lips can publish Thee, Sound Thy name o'er land and ocean, Be it sounded, Lord, by me! Even me.
THE CHILDREN'S TE DEUM.
We praise, we magnify, O Lord, As little children can, That wondrous love which brought Thee down To die for sinful man.
While here on earth Thou didst not frown And bid them to depart,
When mothers brought their children near, But took them to Thy heart.
Encouraged by Thy voice and smile, We toward Thy bosom press; O, lay Thy hands upon our heads, And mercifully bless!
Help us to sing, dear Lord! we feel That silence would be wrong;
Now every bird, with rapture stirred, Is praising Thee in song.
The Critic (New York), after referring to "many beautiful and stately passages" in "The Microcosm," says, "following it is to
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be found some of the best devotional and patriotic poetry that has been written in this country."
The following is from his poem "A Sab- bath at Niagara."
Forevermore, from thee, Niagara! Religious cataract! Most Holy Fane!
A service and a symphony go up Into the ear of God. 'Tis Sabbath morn. My soul, refreshed and full of comfort, hears Thy welcome call to worship. All night long A murmur, like the memory of a sound, Has filled my sleep and made my dreams devout. It was the deep, unintermittent roll Of thy eternal anthem, pealing still Upon the slumbering and muffled sense, Thence echoing in the soul's mysterious depths With soft reverberations. How the earth Trembles with halleujahs, loud as break From banded Seraphim and Cherubim Singing before the Throne, while God vouchsafes Vision and audience to prostrate Heaven! My soul, that else were mute, transported finds In you, O inarticulate Harmonies! Expression for unutterable thoughts, Surpassing the impertinence of words. * For that the petty artifice of speech Cannot pronounce th' Unpronounceable, Nor meet the infinite demands of praise Before descending Godhead, lo! she makes Of this immense significance of sound, Sublime appropriation, chanting it anew, As her "Te Deum," and sweet Hymn of Laud.
THE LAND OF THE FREE. (Air, Star Spangled Banner.)
We hail the return of the day of thy birth, Fair Columbia, washed by the waves of two oceans! Where men, from the farthest dominions of Earth, Rear altars to Freedom, and pay their devotions; Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight; Through the long lapse of ages, that so there might be
An asylum for all in the Land of the Free.
Behold, from each zone under Heaven, they come! And haughtiest nations, that once far outshone thee, Now paled by thy lustre, lie prostrate and dumb,
And render due homage, and no more disown thee. All the isles for thee wait, while that early and late, Not a wind ever blows but wafts hither rich freight, And the swift sailing ships, that bring over the sea Th' oppressed of all lands to the Land of the Free,
As entranced I look down the long vista of years, And behold thine existence to ages extended,
What a scene, O my Country, of wonder appears!
How kindling the prospect, surpassing and splen- did!
Each lone mountain and glen, and waste wilderness then,
I see covered with cities, and swarming with men, And miraculous Art working marvels for thee
To lift higher thy greatness, thou Land of the Free!
From our borders expel all oppression and wrong, Oh! Thou, who didst plant us and make us a Nation! In the strength of Thine arm make us evermore strong:
On our gates inscribe Praise, on our walls write Salvation!
May Thyself be our light, from Thy heavenly height Ever flashing new splendors and chasing our night, That united and happy we ever may be
To the end of all time, still the Land of the Free!
July 4, 1853.
MY NATIVE LAND. (Air, America.)
O beautiful and grand My own, my Native Land! Of thee I boast: Great Empire of the West, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
Thou crown of all the Past, Time's noblest and the last, Supremely fair!
Brought up at Freedom's knee, Sweet Child of Liberty! Of all, from sea to sea, Th' undoubted heir.
I honor thee, because Of just and equal laws, These make thee dear:
Not for thy mines of gold, Not for thy wealth untold, Not that thy sons are bold, Do I revere.
God of our fathers! bless, Exalt in righteousness, This Land of ours! Be Right our lofty aim, Our title and our claim, To high and higher fame, Among the Powers.
In 1874 he published "The Evangel" (pages 400, second edition, 1891). "The purpose of this volume," said George Rip- ley, in the New York Tribune, "would be usually regarded as beyond the scope of poetic composition. It aims to reproduce the scenes of the Gospel history in verse, with a strict adherence to the sacred narra- tive, and no greater degree of imaginative coloring than would serve to present the facts in the most brilliant and impressive light. But the subject is one with which the author cherishes so profound a sympa- thy, as in some sense to justify the bold- ness of the attempt. The Oriental cast of his mind allures him to the haunts of sa- cred song, and produces a vital communion with the spirit of Hebrew poetry. Had he
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lived in the days of Isaiah or Jeremiah, he might have been one of the bards who sought inspiration at Siloa's brook, that flowed fast by the oracle of God."
The Rev. Charles Hodge, D. D., LL. D., of Princeton, referring to the work, said,- "I admire the skill which 'The Evangel' displays in investing with rainbow hues the simple narrations of the Gospels. All, however, who have read Dr. Coles' ver- sions of the 'Dies Irae' and other Latin hymns must be prepared to receive any new productions from his pen with high expectations. In these days, when even the clerical office seems in many cases in- sufficient to protect from the present fash- ionable form of skepticism, it is a great satisfaction tò see a man of science and a scholar adhering so faithfully to the simple Gospel."
Henry W. Longfellow, in a cordial note to Dr. Coles, remarks,-"As your work is narrative and mine dramatic, he must be a very captious critic who should venture to suggest any imitation."
"Dr. Coles," says John G. Whittier, "is a born hymn writer. His 'All the Days' and 'Ever with Thee' are immortal songs. It is better to have written them than the stateliest of epics."
ALL THE DAYS. (Tune, "Kinney Street.")
From Thee, begetting sure conviction, Sound out, O risen Lord, always, Those faithful words of valediction, "Lo! I am with you all the days."
Refrain-All the days, all the days, "Lo! I am with you all the days."
What things shall happen on the morrow, Thou kindly hidest from our gaze;
But tellest us in joy or sorrow,
"Lo! I am with you all the days."
When round our head the tempest rages, And sink our feet in miry ways,
Thy voice comes floating down the ages, "Lo! I am with you all the days."
O Thou who art our life and meetness, Not death shall daunt us nor amaze, Hearing those words of power and sweetness,
"Lo! I am with you all the days."
EVER WITH THEE. (Tune, "Bethany.")
Ever, my Lord, with Thee, Ever with Thee!
Through all eternity Thy face to see!
I count this heaven, to be Ever, my Lord, with Thee, Ever with Thee. ..
Fair is Jerusalem, All of pure gold, Garnished with many a gem Of worth untold:
I only ask to be Ever, my Lord, with Thee, Ever with Thee!
River of Life there flows As crystal clear ; The Tree of Life there grows For healing near: But this crowns all, to be Ever, my Lord, with Thee, Ever with Thee!
No curse is there, no night, No grief, no fear; Thy smile fills heaven with light, Dries every tear: What rapture, there to be Ever, my Lord, with Thee, Ever with Thee!
In 1884 the Appletons issued Dr. Coles' poem, "The Light of the World," as a sin- gle volume also bound together with a second edition of "The Evangel" under the general title "The Life and Teachings of our Lord in Verse, being a complete har- monized exposition of the four Gospeis, with original notes, etc."
Among the many foreign letters received by Dr. Coles, in which reference is made to this work, we find one from the Right Hon. William E. Gladstone, M. P., written from IO Downing street, Whitehall, London, and one from Stephen Gladstone, written from Hawarden Rectory, Chester, Eng- land.
The Rev. Alexander McLaren, D. D., writing from Manchester, England, says, -"I congratulate you upon having accom-
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plished with success a most difficult under- taking, and on having been able to present the ever inexhaustible life in a form so new and original. I do not know whether I have been most struck by the careful and fine exegetical study, or the graceful versi- fication of your work. I trust it may be useful, not only in attracting the people, which George Herbert thought could be caught with a song, when they would run from a sermon, but may also help lovers of the sermon to see its subject in a new garb."
The Rev. Horatius Bonar, D. D., of Edinburgh, wrote,-"I am struck with your command of language, and your skill in clothing the simplicities of history with the elegance of poetry. Your 'Life of Our Lord' is no ordinary volume, and your notes are of a very high order indeed,-ad- mirably written, and full of philosophical thought and scriptural research."
THE NATIVITY.
In that fair region-fertile as of yore, Watered of Heaven; its valleys covcred o'er With corn; with flocks its pastures; scene in truth Of that sweet Idyl called the Book of Ruth, Where David, son of Jesse, tending sheep,
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