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Where is the vessel? Shining through the light,
The stars, in their nocturnal vigils, rest
Hark! through the calm and silence of the scene,
They sleep; but memory wakes; and dreams array
Night. Night is the time for rest ;
How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own delightsul bed ! Night is the time for dreams;
The gay romance of lise,
Blend in fantastic strise ;
To plough the classic field,
Its wealthy furrows yield;
To wet with unseen tears
The joys of other years ;
Ön ocean's dark expanse
The full moon's earliest glance,
Night is the time for care
Brooding on hours misspent, To see the spectre of despair
Come to our lonely tent;
Then from the eye the soul
Of yonder starry pole,
Our Saviour oft withdrew
So will his followers do ;
When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath,
From sin and suffering cease : Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign To parting friends—such death be mine !
The Pelican Island. Light as a flake of foam upon the wind, Keel-upward from the deep emerged a shell, Shaped like the moon ere half her horn is filled ; Fraught with young lise, it righted as it rose,
'Tis morn : the bathing moon her lustre shrouds ; Wide o'er the east impends an arch of clouds That spans the ocean; while the infant dawn Peeps through the portal o'er the liquid lawn, That ruffled by an April gale appears, Between the gloom and splendour of the spheres, Dark-purple as the moorland heath, when rain Hangs in low vapours over the autumnal plain : Till the full sun, resurgent from the flood, Looks on the waves, and turns them into blood; But quickly kindling, as his beams aspire, The lambent billows play in forms of fire.
1 The first Christian missionaries to Greenland.
From din, and pageantry, and strife,
'Midst woods and mountains, vales and plains, She treads the paths of lowly life,
Yet in a bosom-circle reigns,
And moved at will along the yielding water.
It closed, sunk, dwindled to a point, then nothing ;
Aspirations of Youth. Higher, higher, will we climb,
Up the mount of glory, That our names may live through time
In our country's story; Happy, when her welfare calls, He who conquers, he who falls ! Deeper, deeper, let us toil
In the mines of knowledge; Nature's wealth and learning's spoil,
Win from school and college ; Delve we there for richer gems Than the stars of diadems. Onward, onward, will we press
Through the path of duty; Virtue is true happiness,
Excellence true beauty. Minds are of supernal birth, Let us make a heaven of earth. Closer, closer, then we knit
Hearts and hands together,
In the wildest weather ;
Draw our souls in union,
To the saints' communion ; Thither every hope ascend, There may all our labours end.
Before a marble palace, threw
Returning thence in showers of dew;
Flies o'er its eddying surface played,
Flocks through the verdant meadows strayed ; The weary there lay down to rest, And there the halcyon built her nest. 'Twas beautisul to stand and watch
The fountain's crystal turn to gems,
As if 'twere raining diadems;
Whose unimprisoned waters run,
By rock and glen, through shade and sun;
By happy portraiture revealed,
Her name and date from me concealed,
And frolicked in the gayest ring,
Like sparkling fireflies on the wing;
The Common Lot. Once, in the flight of ages past,
There lived a man : and who was he? Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembled thee. Unknown the region of his birth,
The land in which he died unknown:
This truth survives alone :
Alternate triumphed in his breast;
Oblivion hides the rest.
The changing spirits' rise and sall;
For these are felt by all.
Enjoyed—but his delights are fled ;
And foes-his foes are dead.
Hath lost in its unconscious womb :
Her beauty from the tomb.
Encountered all that troubles thee :
The rolling seasons, day and night,
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife, Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ! Erewhile his portion, life, and light,
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? Have left in yonder silent sky
Art thou a man ?-a patriot ?-look around ;
Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home! The annals of the human race,
Their ruins, since the world began, Of him afford no other trace
THE HON. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. Than this—there lived a man !
The Hon. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER (1770
1834) published occasional poems of that descripPrayer.
tion named vers de société, whose highest object is Prayer is the soul's sincere desire
to gild the social hour. They were exaggerated in Uttered or unexpressed ;
compliment and adulation, and wittily parodied The motion of a hidden fire
in the Rejected Addresses. As a companion, Mr That trembles in the breast.
Spencer was much prized by the brilliant circles
of the metropolis ; but, if we may credit an anecPrayer is the burden of a sigh,
dote told by Rogers, he must have been heartless The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye,
and artificiál. Moore wished that Spencer should When none but God is near.
bail him when he was in custody after the affair of
the duel with Jeffrey. 'Spencer did not seem much Prayer is the simplest form of speech
inclined to do so, remarking that he could not well That infant lips can try ;
go out, for it was already twelve o'clock, and he Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
had to be dressed by four. Spencer, falling into The Majesty on high.
pecuniary difficulties, removed to Paris, where he Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
died. His poems were collected and published in The Christian's native air ;
1835. MrSpencer translated the Leonora of Bürger His watchword at the gates of death :
with great success, and in a vein of similar excelHe enters heaven by prayer.
lence composed some original ballads, one of Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice
which, marked by simplicity and pathos, we Returning from his ways ;
subjoin : While angels in their songs rejoice, And say, 'Behold, he prays!'
Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound.
The spearmen heard the bugle sound,
And cheerily smiled the morn ;
And many a brach, and many a hound,
Obeyed Llewelyn's horn.
And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a lustier cheer :
Come, Gelert, come, wert never last
Llewelyn's horn to hear.
Oh, where doth faithful Gêlert roam,
The flower of all his race;
So true, so brave-a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase?'
'Twas only at Llewelyn's board Home,
The faithful Gêlert fed ; There is a land, of every land the pride,
He watched, he served, he cheered his lord,
And sentinelled his bed.
In sooth he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John; A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
But now no Gêlert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.
And now, as o'er the rocks and dells
The gallant chidings rise, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ;
All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells
The many-mingled cries !
That day Llewelyn little loved
The chase of hart and hare ; The heritage of nature's noblest race,
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.
Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied,
When, near the portal seat, While in his softened looks benignly blend
His truant Gelert he espied, The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend.
Bounding his lord to greet. 150
Too late I stayed-forgive the crime;
Unheeded flew the hours;
That only treads on flowers !
The ebbing of the glass,
That dazzle as they pass !
Time's happy swiftness brings,
Their plumage for his wings !
But, when he gained his castle-door,
Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore ;
His lips, his fangs, ran blood.
Unused such looks to meet,
And crouched, and licked his feet.
And on went Gêlert too;
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.
With blood stained covert rent ;
With recent blood besprent.
He searched with terror wild ;
But nowhere found his child. 'Hell-hound ! my child's by thee devoured,'
The frantic father cried ;
He plunged in Gêlert's side.
No pity could impart ;
Passed heavy o'er his heart.
Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy could tell
To hear his infant's cry! Concealed beneath a tumbled heap
His hurried search had missed,
The cherub boy he kissed.
But, the same couch beneath,
Tremendous still in death.
Her pall of transient death has spread,
And nought is wakeful but the dead :
No sheeted ghost my couch annoys ;
Visions of long-departed joys !
That lingered long, and latest died ;
With phantom honours by his side.
They once were Friendship, Truth, and Love !
Since lifeless to my heart ye prove ! These last two verses, Sir Walter Scott, who knew and esteemed Spencer, quotes in his diary, terming them “fine lines,' and expressive of his own feelings amidst the wreck and desolation of his fortunes at Abbotsford.
Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain!
For now the truth was clear ;
To save Llewelyn's heir.
‘Best of thy kind, adieu ! The frantic blow which laid thee low
This heart shall ever rue.'
HENRY LUTTRELL, Another man of wit and fashion, and a pleasing versifier, was HENRY LUTTRELL (1770-1851), author of Advice to Julia : a Letter in Rhyme, 1820, and Crockford House, 1827. Mr Luttrelí was a favourite in the circle of Holland House : 'none of the talkers whom I meet in London society,' said Rogers, 'can slide in a brilliant thing with such readiness as he does. The writings of these witty and celebrated conversationists seldom do justice to their talents, but there are happy descriptive passages and touches of light satire in Luttrell's verses. Rogers used to quote an epigram made by his friend on the celebrated vocalist, Miss Tree :
On this tree when a nightingale settles and sings,
The tree will return her as good as she brings. Luttrell sat in the Irish parliament before the Union. He is said to have been a natural son of Lord Carhampton. The following are extracts from the Advice to Julia :
And now a gallant tomb they raise,
With costly sculpture decked ;
Poor Gêlert's bones protect.
Or forester unmoved ;
Llewelyn's sorrow proved.
And there, as evening sell,
Poor Gelert's dying yell.
And cease the storm to brave, The consecrated spot shall hold
The name of Gelert's Grave.'
London in Autumn. 'Tis August. Rays of fiercer heat Full on the scorching pavement beat. As o'er it the faint breeze, by fits Alternate, blows and intermits.
For short-lived green, a russet brown
author turned to the study of our mediæval archiStains every withering shrub in town.
tecture. His Architectural Tour in Normandy, and Darkening the air, in clouds arise
Ecclesiastical Architecture of Italy from the Time Th’Egyptian plagues of dust and flies;
of Constantine to the Fifteenth Century—the latter At rest, in motion-forced to roam
a splendidly illustrated work—are valuable addiAbroad, or to remain at home,
tions to this branch of our historical literature.
SAYERS—HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.
Several other minor poets of considerable merit
at the beginning of this period, were read and
admired by poetical students and critics, who have The November Fog of London.
affectionately preserved their names, though the
works they praised are now forgotten. DR FRANK First, at the dawn of lingering day,
SAYERS of Norwich (1763-1817) has been speIt rises of an ashy gray ;
cially commemorated by Southey, though even Then deepening with a sordid stain
in 1826 the laureate admitted that Sayers was Of yellow, like a lion's mane.
'out of date.' The works of this amiable physiVapour importunate and dense, It wars at once with every sense.
cian consisted of Dramatic Sketches of the Ancient The ears escape not. All around
Northern Mythology, 1790 ; Disquisitions, MetaReturns a dull unwonted sound.
physical and Literary, 1793; Nuge Poetica, 1803; Loath to stand still, afraid to stir,
Miscellanies, 1805; &c. The works of Sayers were The chilled and puzzled passenger,
collected and republished, with an account of his Oft blundering from the pavement, fails life, by William Taylor of Norwich, in 1823. To feel his way along the rails;
HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS (1762-1827) was very Or at the crossings, in the roll
early in life introduced to public notice by Dr Of every carriage dreads the pole.
Kippis, who recommended her first work, Edwin Scarce an eclipse, with pall so dun,
and Elfrida (1782). She went to reside in France, Blots from the face of heaven the sun.
imbibed republican opinions, and was near sufferBut soon a thicker, darker cloak
ing with the Girondists during the tyranny of Wraps all the town, behold, in smoke, Which steam-compelling trade disgorges
Robespierre. She was a voluminous writer both From all her furnaces and forges
in prose and verse, author of Letters from France, In pitchy clouds, too dense to rise,
Travels in Switzerland, Narrative of Events in Descends rejected from the skies ;
France, Correspondence of Louis XVI., with Till struggling day, extinguished quite, Observations, &c. In 1823 she collected and reAt noon gives place to candle-light.
published her poems. To one of the pieces in O Chemistry, attractive maid,
this edition she subjoins the following note : 'I Descend, in pity, to our aid :
commence the sonnets with that to Hope, from a Come with thy all-pervading gases,
predilection in its favour, for which I have a proud Thy crucibles, retorts, and glasses,
reason : it is that of Mr Wordsworth, who lately Thy fearsul energies and wonders,
honoured me with his visits while at Paris, having Thy dazzling lights and mimic thunders; Let Carbon in thy train be seen,
repeated it to me from memory, after a lapse of Dark Azote and fair Oxygen,
Sonnet to Hope.
Oh, ever skilled to wear the form we love!
To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart;
Come, gentle Hope! with one gay smile remove
The lasting sadness of an aching heart.
Thy voice, benign enchantress ! let me hear ;
Say that for me some pleasures yet shall bloom,
That Fancy's radiance, Friendship’s precious tear, Like hungry cows, as chimneys should !
Shall soften, or shall chase, misfortune's gloom.
But come not glowing in the dazzling ray,
Which once with dear illusions charmed my eye,
Oh, strew no more, sweet flatterer ! on my way Fresh air, by act of parliament.
The flowers I fondly thought too bright to die ;
That asks not happiness, but longs for rest !
LEIGH HUNT. of Byron were written by an accomplished man of fortune, MR HENRY GALLY KNIGHT (1786-1846). JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT, a poet and essayThe first of these, Nderim, a Syrian Tale, was ist of the lively and descriptive, not the intense published in 1816. This was followed by Phrosyne, school, was born at Southgate, in Middlesex, a Grecian Tale, and Alashtar, an Arabian Tale, October 19, 1784. His father was a West Indian ; 1817. Mr Knight also wrote a dramatic poem, but being in Pennsylvania at the time of the Hannibal in Bithynia. Though evincing poeti- American war, he espoused the British interest cal taste and correctness in the delineation of with so much warmth, that he had to leave the Eastern manners-for Mr Knight had travelled- new world and seek a subsistence in the old. He these poems failed in exciting attention; and their took orders in the Church of England, and was