poems, he stands out strongest and most
original as novelist. 'Paul Felton,' his masterpiece in prose, is a
powerful study of a diseased condition of mind. In its searching
psychologic analysis it stands quite apart from the more or less flaccid
production of its day. He indeed could not escape the influence of
Charles Brockden Brown, whom he greatly admired, and he in turn reached
out forward toward Poe and other writers of the analytic school. One
powerful story of Poe's, indeed, seems to have been suggested by Dana's
work: the demon horse in 'Metzengerstein' is a superior copy of the
Spectre Horse in 'The Buccaneer.' These stories were not popular in his
day: they are too remote from ordinary life, too gloomy and painful;
they have no definite locality or nationality; their characters have
little in common with every-day humanity. His prose style however is
clear, direct, and strong.

Even after he ceased to write, he had an important influence on American
letters by the independence of his opinions, his friendships with
literary men, chief among whom was Bryant, and his live interest in the
younger literature produced under conditions more favorable and more
inspiring than he had known.

THE ISLAND

From 'The Buccaneer'

The Island lies nine leagues away;
Along its solitary shore
Of craggy rock and sandy bay,
No sound but ocean's roar,
Save where the bold wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

But when the light winds lie at rest,
And on the glassy, heaving sea,
The black duck with her glossy breast
Sits swinging silently,
How beautiful! no ripples break the reach,
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.

And inland rests the green, warm dell;
The brook comes tinkling down its side;
From out the trees the Sabbath bell
Rings cheerful, far and wide,
Mingling its sound with bleatings of the flocks
That feed about the vale among the rocks.

Nor holy bell nor pastoral bleat
In former days within the vale;
Flapped in the bay the pirate's sheet;
Curses were on the gale;
Rich goods lay on the sand, and murdered men:
Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then.

But calm, low voices, words of grace,