Moving on to the "M's", we come to Theodore Martin.
Sir Theodore Martin KCB KCVO (16 September 1816 - 18 August 1909) was a Scottish poet, biographer, and translator.
He was the son of James Martin, a solicitor in Edinburgh, where Theodore was born and educated at the Royal High School and University.
He practised as a solicitor in Edinburgh 1840-45, after which he went to London and became head of the firm of Martin and Leslie, parliamentary agents.
His first contribution to literature was the humorous Bon "Gaultier Ballads", written along with W.E. Aytoun, which remained popular for a long time; originally contributed to a magazine, they appeared in book form in 1855.
Martin also wrote biographies of his friend Aytoun (1867), Lord Lynhurst (1883) and Princess Alice (1888).
On the completion of his 5-volume biography of the Prince Consort, a grateful Queen Victoria knighted him.
He maintained a friendly relationship with the queen until her death and, in 1908, published his personal recollections of her as "Queen Victoria as I knew her".
In 1851 he married Helena Faucit (died 1898), a well-known actress, and authoress of studies on "Shakespeare's Female Characters", whose "Life" he published in 1901.
The couple lived for some time at Bryntisilio, near Llangollen, where in 1889 they were visited by the queen during her progress in Wales.
Martin kept up his intellectual activity into old age, and in in 1905 he published a translation of Leopardi's poems, and "Monographs" (1906).
He was Lord Rector of St. Andrews 1881, LL.D. of Edinburgh 1875, and K.C.B. 1880.
He died in 1909 and is buried in Brompton Cemetery, London.
Martin's many translations include Dante's "Vila Nuova", Oehlenschläger's "Correggio" and "Aladdin", Heinrich Heine's "Poems and Ballads", Friedrich Schiller's "Wilhelm Tell", and Hertz's "King Rene's Daughter".
Today's poem is a translation from Heinrich Heine ("Altes Kamin-Stück")
To me it is Victorian whimsy - but others may regard it differently.
A FIRESIDE PIECE
Outside the blast is making riot,
And through the darkness the snowflakes fall;
Here in my little room all is quiet,
Warm and dry, and so snug withal.
Musing I sit on my cushioned settle,
Facing the firelight's fitful shine;
Sings on the hob the simmering kettle,
Songs that seem echoes of "auld lang syne."
And close beside me the cat sits purring,
Warming her paws at the cheery gleam;
The flames keep flitting, and flickering, and whirring, -
My mind is lapped in a realm of dream.
Many long, long forgotten summers
Rise up, wraith-like, before my view,
Some in the brightness of masking mummers,
Some with their splendors bedimmed in hue.
Lovely, serene-faced women sweetly
Meanings divine in a glance convey;
Revellers, mingling among them fleetly,
Caper and laugh, and are madly gay.
Marble gods in the distance tower;
Near them, dream-like in beauty rare,
Is a fairy grove that has burst in flower,
And sheds perfume on the moonlit air.
Castles full many of wizard story
Totter along with their crests awry;
Knights behind them, in full-plumed glory,
With troops of their squires come riding by.
'Tis gone! The beautiful dream is over!
Away like a phantom the pageant draws!
Oh dear! The kettle is boiling over,
And pussy is yelling with scalded paws.
03/07/08 @ 22:32