« السابقةمتابعة »
ON RECEIVING FROM YORK A PROFILE OF MY
MOTHER, IN THE 91ST YEAR OF HER AGE.
Yes, these are features which I must revere
Fair as the hues which live in yon bright bow
bestow Thoughts of parental love, how fond, how dear !
My mother! Time hath blanch'd thy tresses gray,
Nor with its wonted lustre gleams thine eye ; But spared, in mercy spar’d, thy mental day,
Nor touch'd one chord that bids the heart reply ; Dear God! how shall I with due fervor pay · Thanks meet for this great boon, ere yet I die!
Of the following stanzas I have only to observe, that they are the productions of a very young friend, in whose welfare I feel deeply interested.
They would not, however, have been inserted in these pages, bad I not thought them possessed of some claim to approbation totally independent of any bias in their favour which, from relationship or personal affection, I might be conceived to entertain for them.
TO NATHAN DRAKE, M.D., ON READING HIS NARRATIVE ENTITLED " THE
VALLEY OF THE RYE.”
1. 0! That once more, sweet Rivaulx ! I could view Thy ruin'd abbey venerably gray, Just as the setting sun, with fond adieu, Flung o'er thine ivy'd walls his parting ray; That, gazing on the spot, I then might say, “ Beneath this sacred turf there lie interr’d “ The bones of many, mightiest in their day:"
And musing thus, methought the scene recurrid, And pensive strains arose, more sad than night's They ceased, and all was still, except the breeze That swept o'er moss-grown tower and mould'ring
stone, And whistled thro' some hollow leafless trees That grew alike forsaken and alone : And now and then, by fits, a sullen moan Would seem to issue from the cavern’d ground Where rest the dead; and oft, in gentlest tone,
Responsive echoed that worn pile around, Of falling waters near, a soft and gurgling sound.
But hark! the same melodious notes once more Returning, fill me with a pleasing dread, As sepulchres and tombs slow murm’ring o'er, They breathe a requiem for the hallow'd dead: Again they vanish’d, and I fondly said, “ O ever shall this spot be held most dear, “ For old and blind the minstrel hither led, “ Waked his lorn harp;e'en now that harp I
hear, “ And loved Lluellyn's lay still lingers on mine ear,”
No time was lost on the part of Shakspeare in carrying his plan into execution. * The next morning saw him on his way to London, having previously requested of Montchensey, that Helen, for reasons similar to those which had influenced him with regard to Hubert, might not be acquainted with the purport of his journey. He passed through Stratford, and Mrs. Hall, to whom, as being greatly attached to Helen, he communicated his views and wishes, accom
* That Shakspeare's influence with his noble friends South. ampton and Pembroke, and through them with the ministers of the day, was adequate to effecting what I have attributed to his interference, I have not the smallest doubt; especially when it is considered, that James himself was, at this period, proud of being thought the friend and patron of the poet of Macbeth,
panied him to town, anxious not only for the happiness of her young friend, but apprehensive lest her father's exertions, both of body and mind, should be too much for his strength.
His first object on reaching the capital was to obtain an interview with Lord Southampton, who had formerly, as we have already hinted, been intimate with the Nevilles, and had used what little interest he possessed with Elizabeth in behalf of the unfortunate Raymond. His Lordship was now, however, high in favour with King James; so far back as the 4th of June 1610, he had officiated as carver at the magnificent festival which was given in honour of young Henry's assumption of the title of Prince of Wales; and but two years before the present period, namely in the July of 1613, he had entertained his Majesty at his house in the New Forest, whither he had returned from an expedition to the continent, expressly for this purpose. Since then he had been present with Lord Herbert of Cherbury, at the siege of Rees, in the Dutchy of Cleve, and was, at the time of this visit of our poet to the metropolis, in the full zenith of his reputation, both as a