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Mont Blanc yet gleams on high :—the power is there,
STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES.
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
The purple noon's transparent light.
Around its unexpanded buds;
The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,
I see the deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple sea-weeds strown:
Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown :
The lightning of the noon-tide ocean
Arises from its measured motion.
Alas ! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within, nor calm around,
The sage in meditation found, ! Compare the dead philosophy of Shelley's contemplations of this scene with the re ligious life of those of Coleridge, p. 413.
And walked with inward glory crowned
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ;-
Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are ;
And weep away the life of care
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is gone,
Insults with this untimely moan :
Whom men love not-and yet regret,
Shall on its stainless glory set,
TO A SKY-LARK.
Hail to thee, blithe spirit !
Bird thou never wert,
Pourest thy full heart
Higher still and higher,
From the earth thou springest,
The blue deep thou wingest,
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
Thou dost float and run ;
I The world has been true to this expectation of the poet, though not probably in the sense in which he meant it. These stanzas present a too true reflection of Shelley's state of mind over a great portion of his short life.
The pale purple even
Meets around thy flight;
In the broad day-light
All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud ;
From one lonely cloud
FROM "LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS."
THE PLAIN OF LOMBARDY.
Beneath is spread, like a green sea,
Noon descends around me now;
Or an air-dissolvéd star,
(1793—1835.) FEMALE authorship in England is of comparatively modern date. After the period when the maiden queen condescended to figure as a little occidental luminary in poetry, a single star or two glitters in the sky of the 17th century ; they begin to assemble in greater numbers in the 18th, and in the conclusion of that century and the commencement of the present, the literature of England presents the names of many females in all departments of knowledge, of pre-eminent or of respectable merit.* We regret that we are forced to confine our selection to the name that has been universal acknowledged to stand at the head of our English poetesses
1 The zenith.
2 These lines exemplify the felt relation of Shelley's mind towards external nature, when his spirit did not darken the stream of his verse:" they contain all things that are beautiful, but the God of nature is not there.
3 See Dyce's Specimens ; Rowton's Female Poets of Great Britain ; and Leigh Hunt's “ Men, Women, and Books."
• Not even excluding pure science, witness the works of Mrs Sommerville. The tone or the literature of the females of Britain is invariab'y wholesome, and contrasts with much of that of France. It is plasing to reflect that a great portion of the literary industry of ur authoresses have been devoted to education, the most im, ortant of a mother's duties, Besides direct works on this subject, and books compiled for school purposes, the ms charming tictions have becu made subsidiary to the same object by Mrs Sherwood, JI Edgeworth. &c.
Mrs Hemans, originally Miss Felicia Dorothea Browne, was the daughter of a merchant, a native of Ireland, and born in Liverpool in September 1793. The failure of her father in trade caused the retirement of the family into Wales, and the childhood of the poetess was spent among the inspiring scenery of Denbighshire. From a child she was a versifer, and produced her first publication at the age of fifteen. At that of eighteen, she was married to Captain Hemans. The union was unhappy; her bus band six years afterwards, for his health, went to Italy, and, without any formal deed of separation, “they never met again." Mrs Hemans coad nued in her Welsh seclusion, the exertions of her pen, the education of ber children, and the duties of religion and benevolence, furnishing ber with ample employment. She died in Dublin, during a visit to her brotber, Major Browne, in 1835. Her deathbed was an affecting scene of Christian fortitude, resignation, and hope
Mrs Hemans, like several modern writers, is most popular in her minor poems. Delicacy of feeling, warmth of affection and devotion, depth of sympathy with nature, and harmony and brilliancy of language, are the features of these charming little pieces. Her larger works bave the same characteristics, but become languid and fatiguing from their very uniformity of sweetness. Her translations from modern languages, and her chivalric poems, exhibit great spirit and splendour of association and imagery. Ore her whole poetry, in the phrase of Sir W. Scott, there is too much flower for the fruit. Her style has been peculiarly popular in America, and much of the later American poetry is moulded on it. The larger works of Mrs Hemans are “ The Sceptic;" “ The Vespers of Palermo" (a tragedy); “ The Forest Sanctuary ;" " Records of Woman.”
FROM "THE FOREST SANCTUARY."
THE VOICES OF HOME.
Have died in others,-yet to me they come,
They call me through this hush of woods reposing,
We mean in present popularity, for in some others of var female writers there is nerve more intellectually powerful than iu Mrs tlemans.