grateful respects, of the value which will be attached to them, a value so greatly enhanced by their being in his own hand. They are very beautiful, I think, in their somewhat antique and treuherzig1 simplicity, and worthy to have proceeded from Theodor Körner's Vater."

The following almost literal translation of these lines, is given by W. B. Chorley, Esq., in his interesting little volume, The Lyre and Sword, published in 1834:

"Gently a voice from afar is borne to the ear of the mourner; Mildly it soundeth, yet strong, grief in his bosom to soothe; Strong in the soul-cheering faith, that hearts have a share in his

sorrow,

In whose depths all things holy and noble are shrined.

From that land once dearly belov'd by our brave one, the fallen, Mourning blent with bright fame-cometh a wreath for his urn. Hail to thee, England the free! thou see'st in the German no stranger.

Over the earth and the seas, joined be both lands, heart and hand!"

There was nothing which delighted Mrs. Hemans more in German literature, than the cordial feeling of brotherhood, so conspicuous amongst its most eminent authors, and their freedom from all the petty rivalries and manœuvres, on which she herself looked down with as much of wonder, as of contempt. In a letter, in which she speaks of the bitterness, and jealousy, and strife, pervading the tone of many of our own Reviews, she adds, turning to a brighter picture with a feeling of relief, like that of one emerging

1 True-hearted.

from the heated atmosphere of a city to breathe the fresh air of the mountains.-"How very different seems the spirit of literary men in Germany! I am just reading a work of Tieck's, which is dedicated to Schlegel; and I am delighted with the beautiful simplicity of these words in the dedication.

"Es war eine schöne Zeit meines Lebens, als ich dich und deinen Bruder Friedrich zuerst kennen lernte; eine noch schönere als wir und Novalis für Kunst und Wissenschaft vereinigt lebten, und uns in mannigfaltigen Bestrebungen begegneten. Jetzt hat uns das Schicksal schon seit vielen Jahren getrennt. Ich kann nur in Geist und in der Erinnerung mit dir leben." Is not that union of bright minds, für Kunst und Wissenschaft, a picture on which it is delightful to repose?"

Mrs. Hemans's familiar correspondence of the year 1822, contains many humorous complaints of the perpetual disturbance she endured from the inroads of masons and carpenters, who were employed in certain alterations and additions at Bronwylfa. It was in the desperation occasioned by these circumstances that she was at last, as has been elsewhere recorded, driven to seek refuge in the laundry, from which classical locality, she was wont to say, it could be no wonder if sadly mangled lines were to issue.

"That was a bright era in my life when I first learned to know you and your brother Frederick; a still brighter, when we and Novalis lived united for art and knowledge, and emulated one another in various competitions. Fate has since, for many years, divided us. I can now live with you only in spirit and in memory."

Some of her lamentations over these grievances were poured forth in such strains as the following: "I entreat you to pity me-I am actually in the melancholy situation of Lord Byron's scorpion girt by fire'-' Her circle narrowing as she goes,' for I have been pursued by the household troops through every room successively, and begin to think of establishing my métier in the cellar; though I dare say, if I were to fix myself as comfortably in a hogshead as Diogenes himself, it would immediately be discovered that some of the hoops or staves wanted repair.

"When you talk of tranquillity and a quiet home, I stare about in wonder, having almost lost the recollection of such things, and the hope that they may probably be regained some time or other. I believe I told you that I had been obliged to vacate my own room, and submit to the complete dislodgement of my books, together with the dust, cobwebs, and other appurtenances thereunto belonging. If there be any love of mercy' in you, I hope you will feel a proper degree of commiseration towards me in my extremity."

A few weeks later, she writes-" We continue in the same state of tumult and confusion, wherein we have existed, as it appears to my recollection, time immemorial. There is a war of old grates with new grates, and plaster and paint with dust and cobwebs, carrying on in this once tranquil abode, with a vigour and animosity productive of little less din than that occasioned by lance to lance, and horse to horse.' I assure you, when I make my escape about fall of eve' to some of the green, quiet hay-fields by which we are surrounded, and look back at the house, which,

It

from a little distance, seems almost, like Shakspeare's moonlight, to sleep upon the bank,' I can hardly conceive how so gentle-looking a dwelling can contrive to send forth such an incessant clatter of obstreperous sound through its honeysuckle-fringed window. really reminds me of a pretty shrew, whose amiable smiles would hardly allow a casual observer to suspect the possibility of so fair a surface being occasionally ruffled by storms.'

During these days of confusion, her two eldest boys, Arthur and George, had been sent away for a few weeks to the house of a clergyman, whose pupils they had been, during his previous residence in the neigh bourhood of St. Asaph. It was their first absence from home, and was consequently considered as an era of no small importance. Their mother would often afterwards refer to the day on which she went with her sister to fetch them home, as one of the white days of her life. The little journey (about twenty miles,) was in itself an enjoyable one. The remote village' at which they were staying, is quite embosomed amongst the mountains, and only approachable by narrow shaded lanes, seldom traversed by a carriage. It was one of those glorious summer days when all nature seems to rejoice,

"As if earth contained no tomb."

The quiet beauty of the "hill-country," with its bright streams and rich verdure smiling in the sunshine; the joyous song of the sky-lark (never heard so triumphantly as amongst the mountains,)-the

1 Bettws Gwerfil goch.

peculiar luxuriance of the ferns and fox-glove' which fringed the way-side, and even the grotesque ruggedness of the road, which gave to the excursion almost an air of adventure—were all felt and enjoyed as such things must ever be by the lover of nature: and when at last the little parsonage appeared in sight, and the two happy boys came rushing down a green slope behind it, flapping their pinafores in ecstasy, and uttering a thousand joyful exclamations at the sight of the carriage, it was indeed a bright picture, and a moment not easily to be forgotten. Then came the kind welcome of the host and hostess, the important air of ciceroneism with which the two boys proceeded to do the honours of the village, the church, the bridge, all the wonders, in short, of the little world around them-and then the charms of the evening drive home, the thousand questions to be asked and answered on each side, and finally, the gladsome meeting with grandmamma, and the three merry little brothers in the nursery.

About this time, after reading the then new novel of The Fortunes of Nigel, Mrs. Hemans had inadvertently mentioned it, in a letter to a friend, as giving an admirable picture of the times of James the Second. On recollecting her mistake, she lost no time

This luxuriance was so remarkable, that, by one of the party, the fox-glove has never been seen since, without a recollection of that day, and of the information then first obtained, of its pretty Welsh name, Menyg Ellyllon, fairies' gloves, from which some learned authorities have traced its common appellation as a corruption of folk's glove; the fairies being designated as "the good folk."

VOL. I. -8