O'er the pale babe, whose spirit death hath stolen, And laid it, dreaming, on the lap of heaven. Said we, that thou art dead?-We dare not. No, For every mountain-stream and shaded dell Where thy rich echoes linger, claim thee still, Their own undying one. To thee, was known Alike, the language of the fragile flower And of the burning stars.-God taught it thee. So, from thy living intercourse with man, Thou shalt not pass, until the weary Earth Drops her last gem into the doom's-day flame. Thou hast but taken thy seat with that blest choir Whose harmonies thy spirit learn'd so well Through this low, darken'd casement, and so long Interpreted for us. Why should we say Farewell to thee, since every unborn age Shall mix thee with its household charities?The hoary sire shall bow his deafen'd ear, And greet thy sweet words with his benison, The mother shrine thee as a vestal-flame In the lone temple of her sanctity, And the young child shall take thee by the hand, And travel with a surer step to Heaven. L. H. SIGOURNEY. MEMOIR OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. HEMANS. BY HER SISTER. Not for the brightness of a mortal wreath, From "A Poet's Dying Hymn," by Mrs. HEMANS (27) ΤΟ COLONEL SIR HENRY BROWNE, K. C. H. THESE PAGES, WRITTEN UNDER HIS ROOF, WHICH HAS ALWAYS BEEN A REFUGE FOR THE SORROWFUL, ARE DEDICATED, BY HIS SURVIVING SISTER, IN REMEMBRANCE OF HER, WHO, DURING MANY YEARS OF TRIAL, FOUND HER BEST EARTHLY SOLACE IN HIS CARE AND AFFECTION. (28) MEMOIR OF MRS. HE MANS. PERHAPS there never was an individual who would have shrunk more sensitively from the idea of being made the subject of a biographical memoir, than she of whom, by a strange fatality, so many imperfect notices have been given to the world. The external events of her life were few and unimportant; and that inward grief which pervaded and darkened her whole existence, was one with which "a stranger intermeddleth not." The gradual developement of her mind may be traced in the writings by which she alone wished to be generally known. In every thing approaching to intrusion on the privacies of domestic life, her favourite motto was, Implora pace;" and those to whom her wishes were most sacred-in whose ears still echo the plaintive tones of her death-bed injunction, "Oh! never let them publish any of my letters!" would fain, as far as regards all personal details, have kept silence, even from good words;" and in this spirit of reverential forbearance, would have believed they were best fulfilling her own affecting exhortation, 66 66 "Leave ye the Sleeper with her God to rest." 1 'See "The Farewell to the Dead." 3* (29) But it is now too late to deprecate or to deplore. A part of Mrs. Hemans's correspondence has already been laid before the public; and the result has been one which was, doubtless, little contemplated by the kindly-intentioned editor,—that of creating a very inadequate estimate of her character, by "presenting, in undue prominence" (to use the words of a judicious critic,) "a certain portion of the writer's mind, by no means the portion with which her admirers will best sympathize, and omitting that other and more exalted division of her nature, in which she was solely or pre-eminently herself." The spell having thus been broken, and the veil of the sanctuary lifted, it seems now to have become the duty of those with whose feelings the strict fulfilment of her own wishes would have been so far more accordant, to raise that veil a little further, though with a reluctant and trembling hand. It has not been without a painful struggle, that any invasion has been made on the sanctity of private correspondence, generously as their treasure-stores have been laid open by the friends who had hitherto guarded them so religiously. Such letters only have been selected as served to illustrate some individuality of character or temperament, or to exhibit the vivid powers of description possessed by the writer; and it is most earnestly hoped that these unpretending memorials, feeble and deficient as they are felt to be, may, at least, be found free from anything which can give pain to others, or lead to any wrong impressions of the guile 1 In the leading article of the " Dublin University Magazine” for August, 1837. |