Imagens das páginas

There is pleasant preaching in the following “discourse," and withal somewhat practical, to a certain class of hearers. The article, as a whole, is too long for our purpose, but we shall take the liberty to select some stanzas:

Guiling to the midway ocean

Barques that tremble by the shore ; But I hush the dark emotion

And would punish thee no more.

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“Can I bless thee? Doth a blessing

Lighten from the hall of death? Is the tomb a power possessing

To give kindly thoughts a breath? Can a heart, despoiled and broken,

Yield an incense as before ?But I leave thee with a token,

I will trouble thee no more.”

“SERMON TO ANN. “When I saw thee first, I loved thee

As an eagle loves the sun;
But I found thee out, and proved thee

For a false and heartless one :
I have traced thee from thy glory,

From the zenith to the west,
And will tell thy treacherous story

As a warning to the rest. “ Thou wast born a thing of passion,

Which a smile to flame could turn; Thou wast moulded in a fashion

Angels might look on and learn ; With an eye as blue as heaven,

In its utmost beauty spread, And a lip like sunset riven

When the sunset is most red.

The following article was evidently hastily written, yet there are many beautiful passages in it, and the opening stanza is peculiarly bold and imposing:

“A battle-gun on the mighty sea

A tone to shake the main !
Slow rolls it on to the sleeping sky,

And thunders back again!
The bannery blaze that lightened from

The cannon's mouth is o'er,And the smoke, like incense, goes away

To slumber on the shore.

"Pure I thought thee--so I found thee,

And I left thee all as pure, Thou hadst fickle hearts around thee

Bowing to a heart no truer ; Yes-thy passion was an altar

Where the adorer made the flame, Which, unfanned by him, would falter,

And be vanished with his name. “Thou wast as a lake that lieth

In a bright and sunny wayI was as a bird that flieth

O'er thee of a pleasant day; When I looked upon thy feature,

Presence then a semblance lent; But thou knowest, thou fickle creature,

With the form the image went.

“The setting sun looks goldenly,

Upon the ocean's breast, And the waters leap like living things

To meet their burning guest;
But where the melancholy north

Uprises blue and steep,
A snow-white sail is coming forth,

And dancing o'er the deep. “ And ever as a moving surge

Its form before her flings,
She stoops and rises gracefully,

As one of living wings;
But as she clears that shadowy isle,

And sails toward the sun,
That crimson belt that girdles her

Is seen the fearful one !



“With a kiss my vow was greeted,

As I knelt before thy shrine; But I saw that kiss repeated

On another lip than mine; And a binding vow was spoken

That thy heart should not be changed ; But that binding vow was broker.,

And thy spirit was estranged.

“ And now each sailor's eye is bent

Toward that threatening form, Which neareth to them, as a pent

And sudden coming storm : And every cannon teems with death,

And every flag unfurled, As they would waste in but a breath

The strength of half the world!


“I might call a blight upon thee,

But I only let it come;
I might curse the hour that won thee,

But again my tongue is dumb;
I will pass thee till thy sorrow

Overruns its trembling cup, And another worship borrow

For the love by thee called up. “ I could blame thee for awaking

Thoughts the world will but derideCalling out, and then forsaking

Flowers the winter wind will chide;

“The hungry waves are climbing up

The ship's o'er-leaning deck, And for the hardy seaman's form

They seem to look and beck. The sun is gone? the twilight sky

Is prodigal of cloud, And the war-star glimmers fitfully

Beyond its misty shroud.

“But where was he-the Rover,

Who had held such fearful reign?



When the thunder's tone was over,

This statement is true, so far as it goes. In justice to He was travelling on the main ;

our author, however, we will quote part of the article And the moon came out—the stars were bright, in question, that the reader may see what Rockwell And gemmed the whole blue sky,

does say. The first line is an unfortunate one, though And he went upon his way that night

appearing much worse when separated from its conAs 'one not born to die.'”

nection with the stanza. Among the many “ welcomes” of the returning

“LIFE AND DEATH. Spring, we rarely meet with one more beautiful than “When Life is gone, Death hastens on the following:

As evening when the sun is set ;

But to the sun there is a dawn, “ SPRING.

Then wherefore should our life forget, “ Again upon the grateful earth,

Though dim in death, to rise again?
Thou mother of the flowers,

If alway on death's silent plain
The singing birds, the singing streams,

The parted soul be left--
The rainbow and the showers :

Whence come those generations forth,
And what a gift is thine !-thou mak'st

That grow and wane upon the earth,
A world to welcome thee ;

Successively bereft?
And the mountains in their glory smile,
And the wild and changeful sea.

“Life is a year—a changeful year,

Its bland and spring-time hour of youth, "Thou gentle Spring !-the brooding sky

Its early loves in feeling dear,
Looks welcome all around;

Its passion for the shrine of truth;
The moon looks down with a milder eye,

At such a time, how hope steals on,
And the stars with joy abound;

With freshened wing from being's dawn,
And the clouds come up with softer glow,

Far down through distant years,
Up to the zenith blown,

Nor thinks the brightness in that gloom
And float in pride o'er the earth below,

Is scattered from her own fair plume,
Like banners o'er a throne.

And that all else is tears!

"Then comes life's autumn-season-and "Thou smiling Spring!-again thy praise

Fade all the glories of all things;
Is on the lip of streams;

A sallow hue pervades the land,
And the water-falls loud anthems raise,

And frozen are the sea's blue wings:
By day, and in their dreams;

The glories of the forest fall,
The lakes that glitter on the plain,

And cluster over nature's pall-
Sing with the stirring breeze ;

While in life's western sky,
And the voice of welcome sounds again

The gathering mists come up to shed
From the surge upon the seas.

Oblivion on the weary head

Or him who wished to die!"
Adorning Spring! the earth to thee
Spreads out its hidden love;

Rockwell has written better lines than the followThe ivy climbs the cedar tree,

ing—but, to our mind, the article has some very good The tallest in the grove ;

stanzas. They possess a tenderness, too, not always And on the moss-grown rock, the rose

characteristic of our author's poems : Is opening to the sun, And the forest trees are putting forth

“MARY. Their green leaves, one by one.

“I saw a tear run down her fading cheek, “As thou to earth, so to the soul

Like to a dew-drop from the red-rose shaken ;

It seemed a pearl of sorrow's own, to speak
Shall after glories be,-
When the grave's winter yields control,

What yet her tongue could not—'I am forsaken!'
And the spirit's wings are free:

“I saw her in that dreary lapse of doubt, And then, as yonder opening flower

When shades of wo and night were spread above her, Smiles to the smiling sun,

When every gleam of hope was prisoned out, Be mine the fate to smile in heaven,

And none but me was left on earth to love her. When my weary race is run.”

“I would not own that she had ever sinned, The reader may have observed, in our quoted article That heaven's pure veil had there been rentand broken. above, on Rockwell's death, an allusion to one who I gave those dreamings to the idle wind, had attacked him “in witless, but malignant satire." And the sad girl my trusting heart in token. The reference is to a work entitled “Truth-a Gift for Scribblers,” in which Rockwell is abused shamefully, "Heaven blessed the thought; her spirit's dimness went, and in a note accompanying his scurrility, the author

Like evening shadows from the sun's adorning; says, “This writer (R.) has an article commencing

And smiles and tears were in her blue eyes blent,

Like sun and dew on violets in the morning. “When life is gone, death hastens on.”

“And she was nearer than a mother's love:

“I had a child, and it grew like a vine If but my slightest feature told dejection,

Fair as the rose of Damascus, was mine ; She hovered by me like a summer dove,

Fair-and I watched o'er her innocent youth, And clad me in the sunlight of affection.

As an angel from heaven would watch over truth.

She grew like her mother, in feature and form“Two swift and sunny years she lingered here, Her blue eye was languid, her cheek was too warm:

As a light flower on autumn's withering bosom; Seventeen summers had shone on her browAnd then she drooped without a pang, a fear,

The seventeenth winter beheld her laid low! And slept in earth—a seed for heaven's pure blossom. Yonder they sleep in their graves, side by side,

A father—a mother-a daughter-a bride ! “Sleep, Mary, for the summer dews lie soft, In the bright turf above thy lonely pillow;

“When they had left me I stood here alone The summer winds blow sweetly there, and oft

None of my race or my kindred were known ! And long their grass waves, like a sea-green billow. Friends all forsaken, and hope all departed

Sad and despairing, and desolate-hearted “Angel-for now thou art—if ever thou

Feeling no kindness for aught that was humanAmong the stars art one--in distance trembling

Hated by man, and detested by womanLet thy sweet radiance fall upon my brow,

Bankrupt in fortune and ruined in nameLike a bright drop-thy joyous tear resembling.

Onward I kept in the pathway of shame!

And till this hour, since my father went down, “Come, and be near me in my evening dreams,

My brow has but known a continual frown! Around my heart-strings, like faint music, hover

“Go to your children, and tell them the tale: Flit not away in morning's golden beams,

Tell them his cheek, too, was lividly pale : But alway light the bosom of thy lover!"

Tell them his eye was all bloodshot and cold : The following wild article, for vivid conception, faith. Tell them he passed through the world they are in,

Tell them his purse was a stranger to gold : ful description, and thrilling versification, merits all the victim of sorrow and misery and sin : praise, though some would doubtless deem the first

Tell them when life's shameful conflicts were past, stanza too rough.

In horror and anguish he perished at last !" « THE INTEMPERATE.

"The Prisoner for Debt” we have never seen. But in “Pray, Mr. Dramdrinker, how do you do!

an editorial notice of Willis's old“ Monthly Magazine," What in perdition's the matter with you!

we find the following extracts : How did you come by that bruise on the head !

“When the summer sun was in the west, Why are your eyes so infernally red!

Its crimson radiance fell,
Why do you mutter that infidel hymn !

Some on the blue and changeful sea,
Why do you tremble in every limb!
Who has done this-let the reason be shown,

And some in the prisoner's cell.

And then his eye with a smile would beam, And let the offender be pelted with stone!

And the blood would leave his brain, And the Dramdrinker said, if you listen to me

And the verdure of his soul relurn, You shall hear what you hear, and shall see what you

Like sere grass after rain ! “I had a father-the grave is his bed :

“But when the tempest wreathed and spread

A mantle o'er the sun, I had a mother-she sleeps with the dead :

He gathered back his woes again,
Freely I wept when they left me alone-

And brooded thereupon :
But I shed all my tears on their grave and their stone:
I planted a willow-I planted a yew-

And thus he lived, till time one day

Led death to break his chain: And I left them to sleep till the last trumpet blew !

And then the prisoner went away,

And he was free again !" “Fortune was mine, and I mounted her carPleasure from virtue had beckoned me far:

We must pass by the “CONVERSATION WITH THE Onward I went, like an avalanche down,

CLOUDS,” and address “TO THE COMET," &c. &c. And the sunshine of fortune was changed to a frown.

though there are fine things in each of them. But we

cannot leave the “ICEBERG” so hastily. Though it has “Fortune was gone, and I took to my side

faults, we think its many beauties fully compensate A young, and a lovely, and beautiful bride!

for them. Her I entreated with coldness and scorn, Tarrying back till the break of the morn;

“THE ICEBERG. Slighung her kindness, and mocking her fears- “'Twas night-our anchor'd vessel slept Casting a blight on her tenderest years;

Out on the glassy sea; Sad and neglected and weary 1 left her

And still as heaven the waters kept, Sorrow and care of her reason bereft her

And golden bright--as he, Till, like a star, when it falls from its pride,

The setting sun, went sinking slow She sunk on the bosom of misery, and died !

Beneath the eternal wave :


And the ocean seemed a pall to throw

Over the monarch's grave!

The following is one of Rockwell's most popular effusions, and one with which, perhaps, the reader is already familiar.


" There was no motion of the air

To raise the sleeper's tress,
And no wave-building winds were there,

On ocean's loveliness;
Bat ocean mingled with the sky

With such an equal hue,
That vainly strove the 'wildered eye

To part their gold and blue.

"And ne'er a ripple of the sea

Came on our steady gaze,
Save when some timorous fish stole out,

To bathe in the woven blaze,-
When Alouting in the light that played

All over the resting main,
He would sink beneath the wave, and dart
To his deep blue home again.

" Yet while we gazed, that sunny eve,

Across the twinkling deep,
A form came ploughing the golden wave,

And rending his holy sleep:
It blushed bright red, while growing on

Our fixed, half-fearful gaze;
But it wandered down, with its golden crown,

And its robe of sunny rays.

"Searcher of gold, whose days and nights

All waste away in anxious care,
Estranged from all of life's delights,

Unlearned in all that is most fair,
Who sailest not with easy glide,
But delvest in the depths of tide,

And strugglest in the foam-
Oh ! come and view this land of graves-
Death's northern sea of frozen waves-

And mark thee out thy home. “ Lover of woman, whose sad heart

Wastes like a fountain in the sun,
Clings most where most its pain does start,

Dies by the light it lives upon-
Come to the land of graves--for here
Are beauty's smile, and beauty's tear,

Gathered in holy trust;
Here slumber forms as fair as those
Whose cheeks, now living, shame the rose,

Their glory turned to dust.
“Lover of fame, whose foolish thought

Steals onward from the wave of time--
Tell me—what goodness hath it brought,

Atoning for that restless crime ?
The spirit-mansion desolate,
And opens to the storms of fate,

The absent soul in fear-
Bring home thy thoughts, and come with me,
And see where all thy pride must be--

Searcher of fame, look here!
“And warrior, thou with snowy plume,

That goest to the bugle's call--
Come and look down-this lonely tomb

Shall hold thee and thy glories all:
The haughty brow—the manly frame-
The daring deeds—the sounding fame-

Are trophies but for death!
And millions who have toiled like thee
Are stayed, and here they sleep; and see,

Does glory lend them breath ?” Our last selection is from the “Specimens of American Poetry,” before referred to. There is more originality of thought in the first line of the article, than in many self-styled "poems” which daily meet our eyes :


" It seemed like molten silver, thrown

Together in floating flame;
And as we looked, we named it then,

The fount whence colors came :
There were rainbows, furled with a careless grace,

And the brightest red that glows; The purple amethyst there had place,

And the hues of the full blown rose ;

And the vivid green, as the sunlit grass,

Where the pleasant rain bath been;
And the ideal hues that thought-like pass

Through the minds of fanciful men;
They beamed full clear and that form moved on,

Like one from a burning grave;
And we dared not think it a real thing,

But for the rustling wave.

" The sun just lingered in our view,

From the burning edge of ocean, When by our barque that bright one passed,

With a deep, disturbing motion : The far down waters shrank away,

With a gurgling rush upheaving, And the lifted waves grew wildly pale,

The ocean's bosom leaving.

Yet as it passed our bending stern,

In its throne-like glory going,
It crushed on a hidden rock, and turned,
Like an empire's overthrowing!

uptorn waves rolled hoar,-and huge The far-thrown undulations Swelled out in the sun's last, lingering smile,

And fell, like battling nations !"

“ Grave of waters gone to rest !

Jewel, dazzling all the main!
Father of the silver crest !

Wandering on the trackless plain,
Sleeping 'mid the wavy roar,

Sailing 'mid the angry storm,
Ploughing ocean's oozy floor,

Piling to the clouds thy form!
Wandering monument of rain

Prisoned by the sullen north!


But to melt thy hated chain,

And fever of an uncongenial strife, had left
Is it that thou comest forth?

Their traces on his aspect!
Wend thee to the sunny south,

Peace to him!--
To the glassy summer sea-

He wrestled nobly with the weariness
And the breathings of her mouth

And trials of our being-smiling on,
Shall unchain and gladden thee !

While poison mingled with his springs of life,

Anguish was resting, like a hand of fire“Roamer in the hidden path,

Until at last the agony of thought
'Neath the green and clouded wave! Grew insupportable, and madness came
Trampling, in thy reckless wrath,

Darkly upon him,--and the sufferer died !
On the lost, but cherished brave;
Parting love's death-linked embrace,

“ Nor died he unlamented! To his grave
Crushing beauty's skeleton-

The beautiful and gifted shall go up,
Tell us what the hidden race,

And muse upon the sleeper. And young lips
With our mourned lost have done!

Shall murmur, in the broken tones of grief,

His own sweet melodies. And if the ear “ Floating steep! who in the sun,

Of the freed spirit heedeth aught beneath
Art an icy coronal-

The brightness of its new inheritance,
And beneath the viewless dun,

It may be joyful to the parted one,
Throw'st o'er barques a wavy pall !

To feel that earth remembers him in love!"
Shining death upon the sea !

The poet, in his plaintive dirge, has said all that can
Wend thee to the southern main :

be said, of praise and of sorrow. We can only resBend to God thy melting kneeMingle with the wave again !"

pond, in the prayer which the pious catholic breathes

over the grave of his sleeping friend-requiescat in pace. We shall conclude our “Sketch," already protracted

C. W. E beyond its designed limits, with a feeling tribute to Rockwell's memory, from the pen of J. G. WHITTIER, Esq., at the time editor of the " New England Weekly Review," from which we made an extract above.

NOTES AND ANECDOTES, "TO THE MEMORY OF J. O. ROCKWELL. Political and Miscellaneous--from 1798 to 1830. — Drawn from

the Portfolio of an Officer of the Empire-and translated (roma “ The turf is smooth above him! and this rain

the French for the Messenger, by a gentleman in Paris, Will moisten the rent roots, and summon back

The perishing life of its green-bladed grass :
And the crushed flower will lift its head again

I have stated that the Court of Peers condemned Smilingly unto heaven, as if it kept

five of the prisoners to imprisonment; it had afterwards No vigil with the dead !

to assemble for the trial of one of the accused, who had Well! it is meet

suffered himself to be arrested after having been conThat the green grass should tremble, and the flowers

demned to death for contumacy. This person was the Blow wild about his resting-place. His mind old lieutenant-colonel of the imperial guard, who was Was in itself a flower, but half disclosed-

to have directed the movement at Cambray. Thanks A bud of blessed promise, which the storm

to the provoking agents, and the open intervention of Visited rudely, and the passer by

the police in the conspiracy, the penalty of death was Smote down in wantonness. But we may trust reduced to an imprisonment for five years. That it hath found a dwelling where the sun

The principal result of the trial of the lieutenantOf a more holy clime will visit it,

colonel, was to procure the escape of one of those preAnd the pure dews of mercy will descend

viously condemned. This evasion was accompanied by Through heaven's own atmosphere upon its head. circumstances truly original. The individual who had

been condemned, was the captain of infantry, Lamothe, “ His form is now before me, with no trace

a talented, bold and handsome fellow. He was cogOf death in his fine lineaments, and there

fined in the prison of Sainte-Pélazie, where he was Is a faint crimson on his youthful cheek,

to remain five years. He had been treated with great And his free lip is softening with the smile,

kindness. The trial of the lieutenant-colonel lasted Which in his eye is kindling; and the veins

four days, and on each day, the captain, who had been Upon his ample forehead wear the sign

summoned as a witness, was taken from his prison, by Of healthful energy. And I can feel

an officer of the Court of Peers, for the purpose of being The parting pressure of his hand, and hear

conducted to the Luxembourg, in a carriage, and under His last “God bless you!”-Strange--that he is there, the guard of a gendarme. Distinct before me, like a breathing thing,

The captain devoted the three first trips to securing Even when I know that he is dead,

the good will of the officer of the court and of the gen• And that the damp earth hides him. I would not darme. He appeared gay and communicative-related Think of him otherwise his image lives

anecdotes of the garrison, praised the proceedings of Within my memory, as he seemed, before

the Court of Peers towards him, declared that he had The curse of blighted feeling, and the toil

never been happier than he was since his confinement

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