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sence ;


Commend us to the verse which, like this,

suggests emotions beyond those it conveys ! " I've a Friend, over the sea ;

“ Garden Fancies” please us greatly. The quiet I like him, but he loves me.

humour of some poems, half satire and half It all grew out of the books I write

pathos, defies description; and for quoting, They find such favour in his sight,

alas ! our task is far from finished, although our That he slaughters you with savage looks allotted space is well nigh exhausted. But one Because you don't admire my books :

more extract we must make from “ Bells and He does himself though ; and if some vein

Pomegranates." Let our readers guess for Were to snap to. night in this heavy brain, themselves :To-morrow month, if I lived to try, Round should I just turn quietly,

“THE LOST LEADER. Or out of the bedclothes stretch my hand “ Just for a handful of silver he left us, Till I found him, come from his foreign land

Just for a ribband to stick in his coatTo be my nurse in this poor place,

Got the one gift of which fortune bereft us, And make me broth, and wash my face,

Lost all the others she lets us devote; And light my fire, and, all the while,

They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, Bear with his old good-humoured smile

So much was theirs, who so little allowed : That I told him, . Better have kept away

How all our copper had gone for his service! • Than come and kill me, night and day,

Rags -- were they purple, his heart had been With worse than fever's throbs and shoots,

proud! At the creaking of his clumsy boots.'

We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured I am as sure that this he would do

bim, As that Saint Paul's is striking Two:

Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, And I think I had rather . . woe is me!

Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, -Yes, rather see him than not see,

Made him our pattern to live and to die ! If lifting a hand would seat him there

Shakspeare was of us, Milton was for us, Before me in the empty chair

Burns, Shelley were with us; they watch from To-night, when my head aches indeed,

their graves ! And I can neither think nor read,

He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, And these blue fingers will not hold

He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves ! The pen ; this garret's freezing cold !

"We shall march prospering—not through his pre“ And I've a Lady—There he wakes, The laughing fiend and prince of snakes

Songs may excite us—not from his lyre ; Within me, at her name, to pray

Deeds will be done-while he boasts his quies.

cence, Fate send some creature in the way Of my love for her, to be down-torn,

Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire :

Blot out his name then-record one lost soul more, Upthrust, and onward borne,

One task unaccepted, one footpath untrod, So I might prove myself that sea

One more devils’-triumph and sorrow to angels, Of passion which I needs must be !

One wrong more to man, one more insult to Call my thoughts false and my fancies quaint,

And my style infirm, and its figures faint,
All the critics say, and more blame yet,

Life's night begins :' let him never come back to

us! And not one angry word you get !

There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, But, please you, wonder I would put

Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of twiMy cheek beneath that Lady's foot

light, Rather than trample under mine The laurels of the Florentine ;

Never glad confident morning again!

Best fight on well, for we taught him-come gal. And you sball see how the Devil spends

lantly, The fire God gave for other ends!

Strike our face hard ere we shatter his own; I tell you, I stride up and down This garret, crowned with Love's best crown,

Then let him get the new knowledge and wait us, And feasted with Love's perfect feast,

Pardoned in Heaven, the first by the throne !" To think I kill for her, at least,

If there be any of our readers to whom this Body and soul, and peace and fame,

poet is unknown, we rejoice to have done them Alike youth's end and manhood's aim,

the good service of an introduction. Talk of As all my genius, all my learning

there being no poets! Why Robert Browning Leave me, where there's no returning

has as much poetry in himself as all the rhymers -So is my spirit, as flesh with sin, Filled full, eaten out and in

of the last century put together, excepting only With the face of her, the eyes of her,

Robert Burns, who wasma Poet. The lips and little chin, the stir

We are not pretending to give an epitome of Of shadow round her mouth; and she

modern poetry; of poetry of the age in which - I'll tell you-calmly would decree

Tennyson lives; that were indeed an ambitious That I should roast at a slow fire,

task, demanding study and leisure, and whose If that would compass her desire,

execution would fill a volume. We are but And make her one whom they invite

glancing at some stray books beside us, withTo the famous ball to-morrow night.

out forgetting the other great names which gem

the present. Mrs. Norton, the poetess who sits There may be a Heaven ; there must be a Hell; on a throne alone, and sweet Mary Howitt,

Meantime, there is our Earth here--well!" whose muse has been too long silent. 'Westlan


Marston, R. H. Horne, and others who may wor-, But, child, such words are strange to thy young thily follow in their wake. As for the numberless hearing, volumes without a claim to be considered poetry, Although thy dreaming years are hourly nearing, these we will not stretch a finger to preserve from When, laying by its mirth, thy heart will ponder oblivion. Books which are simply dull better Deeply on things that now but wake thy wonder ! remain unnoticed; but there are yet two volumes before us, rich in so many attributes of poetic Haply of smiles to-day and tears to-morrow,

Thy life may be a life of joy or sorrow, excellence that we must bring them before our readers. The “Poems," by James Hedderwick, That melt away in tears before the morning!

Smiles bright as evening-clouds the sky adorning, combine power with grace in a degree that should place him already in a very high rank. But now, how peaceful! not the ocean's mirror, It is true that he has not tried his wing in Glassing the stormless heavens, is purer, fairer flights as lofty as the poets from whom we have Than thy young life, as tell thy brows un furrow'd, quoted, but the evidence of ability to succeed, And eyes whose light from calm sweet thoughts is were he tempted so to try, cannot be ques

borrow'd! tioned.

We know the active and influential duties Oh be it ever thus !--for thee be lifted which engross his time and attention, and we No tragic curtain as life's scene is shifted ! appreciate the brilliant columns of prose which Fear haughty man; yet when thou find'st him proceed from his pen ; and yet we are selfish

kneeling, enough to hope he will one day renew his If not a woman's love, show woman's feeling ! poetical labours. The longest of these productions is the “Lost Heart," so full of beautiful Though mad his love-presumptuous, blind, or sensepassages that, butterfly like, we rove from one to

less, another, doubtful which to select for the limits Still gently use the heart that is defenceless ; of our columns. After all, a shorter piece entire When e’en its inmost core is ope'd before thee, will be better for extract, so, choosing almost Forbear to wound—its crime is to adore thee ! at random, let us take the following :

Alas, thy gentle breast, my little maiden!
Is all too young to be with love thoughts laden ;

And yet, what wonder ! saved from dangerous river,
Come hither, gentle one-thy hand-come near me! If by mild brooklet I would wander ever!”
Wherefore so shy? alas, thou need'st not fear me !
How old art thou, my child ? No more than seven?
No wonder thou art fair--50 fresh from heaven!

“The Mind, and other Poems,” by Charles

Swain, comprise a beautiful volume, enriched I cannot think, thou little beauteous blossom,

with illustrations by some of our first artists. The worm of guile hath enter'd yet thy bosom ; Charles Swain, however, is well known as a Here, here, at least, is warm and truthful feeling contributor to periodical literature; and we believe Thy tongue most surely speaks the heart's revealing ! some of the shorter poems here included have

appeared in different magazines, &c. “The Haply thou see'st in me an air of sadness,

Mind” is the most ambitious in its aim; and no And fain wouldst give me thine own eyes of gladness; slight triumph is it ably to have sustained, as he Oh, would the world were fill'd with kind endeavour- has done, his daring flight. The poem opens Would that mankind were but as children ever!

thus :'Tis sad to see a blissful vision perish, To find a stone within the heart we cherish!

“ As in the presence of the Sun-grown blind 'Tis sad to reap ingratitude for kindness

In contemplation of this Light supreme, To look for bliss, and feel as struck with blindness!

This mystery and this majesty of Mind

The glory and the vastness of its beamWhile on this lip of thine I print pure kisses,

I bend! Yet trust that He who can redeem I sigh to think of lips less true than this is,

Mine eyes from darkness, and my heart make Lips where a maiden's love appear'd to tremble,

strong, Only to prove how well they could dissemble !

Will sanctify my spirit to the theme !

Will lend an inspiration to my tongue, I sigh to think of looks as fair and blooming

That it may language win immortal as my song!” As summer flowers, no inward blight consuming ; But it is past, the core once canker-eaten, No loveliness of leaf the flower can sweeten!

We must also find space for a generous burst

to the memory of the gifted and departed.
Wherefore, then, prize mere loveliness in woman?
Beauty divorced from truth, alas, how common ! “ Still mourns Erinna!-ever by that coast
So when cold, callous feigning we discover,

Whose dismal winds shriek to each weeping cloud, Let the man fret, but never more the lover!

Whose waves sweep solemn as a funeral host,

Still mourns she Love's own minstrel in her shroud ; What though the star we loved no longer beameth,- The Sappho of that isle in genius proud ; Let the eye turn to where some other gleameth; The Improvisatrice of our land; Nor lose our faith, while o'er the heavens thus The daughter of our soil - our fame endowed ; ranging,

For her Erinna seeks the fatal strand, In orbs that shine for evermore unchanging ! And lifts to distant shores her too-prophetic hand !


The blighted one! the breast, whose sister tear OH, NEVER SAY WE LOVE IN VAIN.
Sprang to each touch of feeling, heaves no more !
Our Landon, silent on her funeral bier,

Oh, never say we love in vain,
Far from our heart, sleeps on a foreign shore;

Although the vision fade ; The voice of her-the song inspired--is o'er !

And life, so prized and bright before, Oh, she who wept for others found no tone

Be less a treasure made : To soothe the many parting griefs she bore ;

For though love's tender flower decay, None had a tear for that sweet spirit lone

Its seed can never die; All sorrows found a balm save that far Minstrel's

And holier blossoms shall spring forth,

And flourish to the sky!
Thou who receivedst her rose-encircled head,
Our Minstrel in the bloom of her young fame,

For then the heart, its idol fled,
Give back our lost and loved! Restore our dead !

No selfish joys shall thrall,

And what it blindly cast to one
Return once more her first and dearest name !

Shall freely flow to all;
We claim her ashes—'tis a nation's claim !
Her-in her wealth of mind to thee we gave;

And feeling in itself the sting

Of falsehood and of grief,
Yet, plead we for the dust of that dear frame :
Ob, bear her world-lamented o'er the wave!

Shall seek, in guarding others' hopes,

Its own most sure relief.
Let England hold at last-'tis all she asks-her
Grave !"

Then, though the lesson may be sad,
There is a glowing poem called “Painting,"

Oh, never call it vain, which illustrates, or is illustrated by, a beautiful

For what doth blessings cast around, picture of Venus, by George Patten. “ The

Shall blessings bring again ; Death of Eucles,” “The kind old friendly feel

And oh, at last the soul shall know

Its woes were kindly given, ings," and many others we would fain extract,

And find its mourning garb become but our limits forbid.

A wedding robe for heaven! Enough, dear readers, for the present, of“Poets

R. M. C. and Poetry.” If ye be any of the class who, like good Audrey, “thank the gods they are not poetical,” I am quite sure you have missed the whole chapter, for its first paragraph must have

THE ANNIVERSARY. seemed like prose run mad, and warned you away. But if I might hope I had awakened something of sympathy in spirits of a finer quality (one must run into the first person at last), how sweet Why should I bid thee joy that time hath gather'd a reward it would be for that which has indeed Another year from life, unless it be been a labour of love!

That thou art nearer to that welcome haven

Where storms are hush'd, and sorrows cease to be?
And yet I pause to bless the day that gave me

Thy faithful hand to clasp within my own

Thy loving, truthful heart, whose gentle beauty THE CHURCH BELL.

Hath been like sunlight ’mid the darkness thrown.

If fervent prayers and wishes, then, can guard thee, In a time-worn turret, by years decay'd,

Bringing that peace that fadeth not away, Which nature embellish'd, but man had made,

Thou shalt be girt with many a whisper'd blessing, Where the ivy had conquer'd the powerless stone,

Breath'd oft for thee on this remember'd day. Once its supporter, but now its throne

On ! dear one, on! thy path is now before thee; A belfry stood; and in peaceful rest,

Fear not its perils : though the world will war 'Mid the bats' retreat and the wild bird's nest,

With all who tread not in her devious windings, Like a hermit alone in his penitent cell,

Still keep thine eye upon thy guiding star! Forsook by the world, was the old church bell. Through the dim shadows shall its radiance guide Oft hath it told of the nuptials gay,

Safe through the conflict shalt thou fearless come, Its peal hath welcomed the bridal day;

A cheerful pilgrim, meekly pressing onward, Tolling for sorrow, and tolling for mirth,

Seeking a safe and more abiding home. Its tongue proclaiming the infant's birth ; And when grim Death with his terrors hath come, Remorseless, regardless, to desolate home, It hath changed its note, and no voice could tell Courage.--Have sufficient to speak to the poor So surely of woe as the old church bell.

friend, even in the street, and when a rich one is

nigh. The effort is not so great as many people may Where now is the voice that was borne on the breeze imagine, and the act is worthy of a king. In years gone by, when the sheltering trees, Now towering above it, were saplings weak : That voice no longer hath power to speak.

ForgivENE$S.-Suffer not your thoughts to dwell Old age crept o'er it and ended its sway,

on the injuries you have received, or the provoking A victim conquer'd by stern decay ;

words that have been spoken to you. Not only learn Nobly it stood, and as nobly fell,

the art of neglecting injuries at the time you receive But no vestige remains of the old church bell. them, but let them grow less and less every moment,

AUGUSTUS PEQUEUR, till they die out of your mind.




" I saw your

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friend, Lily Bingham, the other trouble herself, and was the best hand in the day; she is a very nice person, but quite old world at helping others out of difficulties. Her enough to be called Mrs., I should say,” cried sister, who was three years older, had left the Janes--, one of a merry group who had school when I went, so that I knew very little gathered round my work-table, on a bleak De- of her ; but Lily (who would never be called cember evening; and the conversation, which Miss Bingham) was very much attached to had been very animated, had died away into Mary, and always spoke of her, as did all her comparative silence, and was lost in some deep school-fellows, in such affectionate terms, that I reverie. “What a pretty name," exclaimed one; could not suppose her otherwise than amiable : “ Is she an old maid then?” inquired another. besides, I used to read most of her letters; and

“ Yes, my dear ; Lily is an unmarried lady, a woman's letters are, in most instances, an but she possesses more virtues, and in truth index of her mind. I have often felt affection more graces than fall to the lot of many," was for people I have never seen, from a perusal of my reply.

their letters; and such was the affection I enBut don't you think it nonsensical to be tertained for Mary. Ah! I remember how (when called Lily Bingham? Why it sounds so childish, amusing ourselves in castle-building) we used and she looks more than thirty, I am sure,” to talk of the future, she would look forward persisted Jane.

to spending many happy hours with her sister, “ True it is, that Lily Bingham is no longer and one was to go and stay with them and youthful, for full five-and thirty summers have another should pay them a visit (for they had passed over her head; but those who knew her no mother); but all these bright dreams vain her bright spring of early youth, when her nished ere they became realities. Lily had no name, her voice, nay, the sound of her footstep sooner left school than Mary was taken ill, and brought a ray of sunshine into the eyes, and a after many weeks of anxious care and unremitglow upon the cheek of many who have seen ting attentions, poor Lily received her sister's her; whatever trouble assailed her, whatever last sigh, and committed her mortal remains to annoyance, ever the same gentle, inoffensive, the tomb. This was her first trial; for she had and submissive being; those friends will ever never known a mother's care and love, and she cherish her by that endearing name.

Miss was

was now left her father's sole companion; for a title rarely applied to her; it was not simple he deeply mourned the overthrow of the fond enough to describe her nature; and Mrs. is a hopes, that his home would be once more the designation to which I think she will never aspire; haven of domestic bliss. To him she therefore but go into any cottage within miles of her home, devoted herself; in truth, no amusement, no and mention but the word 'Lily,' and you will gaiety could detach Lily from her parent, when see tearful eyes and upraised hands, ready to he stood in need of a companion, or of consolapronounce a blessing on it.”

tion;-nor, during his life, did she permit him to “ But how is it she was never married, if she feel the want of a wife or daughter's care. As be so good and amiable?" inquired Anna. an only child, a lovely being, animated, graceful,

“ The very best of women remain unmarried. and endearing, Lily was not without lovers as It often happens that in the concentrated sphere well as friends : among the latter was a gentlein which they move they do not meet with one man, some years older than Lily, whom I shall of the opposite sex who can appreciate their rare designate Gerald; he had known her family a qualities, who can sympathise with their deep long time, and they appeared to be on very good and devout feelings; or, having met one in terms. He was not rich, indeed I believe he whom was embodied all those noble qualities had nothing but a small income, as he was the that woman can look up to, idolize, and vene- eldest of a very large family; neither was there rate; from whom they have been divided by anything prepossessing in his manner or apadverse circumstances, and driven into opposite pearance; but he was clever, amiable, and recurrents, they remain faithful to the idol of markably strict in his morals and religious their youthful dreams, and cherish to the end of feelings. Nothing could induce him to say life the memory of the past. However, as you what he did not think, and a compliment from appear so much interested in my friend, I feel him, or a fine speech was a marvel: whoever almost disposed to tell you what I know of her might be present, he always singled out Lily as history, and then your wonders will cease. his companion; he lent her books, he corrected

Oh, pray do!" was echoed by every voice: her mistakes; he superintended her drawing “ there is nothing we should like better than a lessons, and found fault with


trifle which true story.”

displeased him; he often called Lily to account Well

, when I first knew Lily, she was my for unthinking words and actions that no other schoolfellow; and a merry-hearted girl she was, appeared to notice, and even for what others always good-natured, ever ready to oblige; Lily commended. I do not suppose he ever made was very good-tempered, very rarely got into love to Lily (for I believe he was too shy), but

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the world set him down as a favoured lover: , up a match, as you are both so mighty parperhaps Lily, in her maidenly reserve, kept him ticular !' at too great a distance; for I often remarked “ • When Gerald marries, it will be to some that her conduct towards him was different from one worthy of him. He weighed me in the her manner to others. She never addressed balance, perhaps, and found me wanting. Whathim in words of jest or flippancy; and though ever is, is best.' she sometimes laughed at his being so particular, “And there was a something in Lily's manI remarked that she always avoided the doing ner which prevented me from ever naming the or wearing anything he had condemned. So subject to her again." matters went on, until Lily received a very pro

«'What has become of Gerald--is he marmising offer, which, to the astonishment of every ried ?” one, she firmly refused, without being able to “ No. Some years had passed away, and give, what her friends thought, a sufficient Lily scarcely met her favourite friend ; and if reason; however, her father left her to her own they did meet it was always before others, when choice, and after persisting for some time, the the proud heart of Lily would assume a distance gentleman relinquished his suit."

that she could never feel; nor, during his ab“ But what said Gerald? Did he know of sence did she venture to inquire of his friends this?”

of his destination or his welfare. The ear often

listened unbidden for the tidings that it longed “Oh yes! he not unfrequently met Mr. K. at her father's house, when it was entertaining to to hear, but the lips could not utter the name see the curious manner in which they behaved of one in secret cherished. But at last fortune to each other. To Lily, Gerald conducted him- did throw them in each other's way, and when self yet more strangely; sometimes he would they were for a short interval left together, a scarcely speak to her at all. Poor Lily

, pondered long suspected, and I was too nearly placed to

conversation ensued, which told me all I had in silence, till a strange report reached her ears, to the effect that it was generally rumoured that remove without exciting the observation of both she and Gerald were engaged. "This seemed at asked Lily, half in jest and half in earnest

, how

parties. After a few desultory remarks, Gerald once to account for his strange manner. "Ah!

it was he still found her unmarried ? said she to me, in speaking of this unfortunate occurrence, as she termed it, he

“Oh, there may be very good reasons," was distant, if he supposes I have set this afloat;

Lily's reply, “ which I could not conveniently but I will be distant too; I will let him see it is give; perhaps the want of a chance, perhapsno fancy of mine.' And distant

'Nay, interrupted Gerald, “ that I must never spoke to him unless he addr. She one doubt : report says the lady is in fault, and

that she has not lacked lovers !” eren avoided the places where they were likely to meet, and he gradually relinquished his visits

, might have had ; but I am not one to love

“ It may be true that I have had lovers, or and before they returned, Gerald had left the easily; and those who sought me were those I

could not love in return." village, nor did Lily know of his departure until after her return. She had subsequent offers, have lived thus long without loving ?”

“Surely you are not so cold-hearted as to which were refused without any apparent cause; and I, as well as others, wondered what Lily know me, do not deem me cold-hearted! I do

Cold-hearted! Oh, surely those who best could expect or require in a husband; but she never gave any reason beyond not loving, or not could more fully appreciate the value of true af

not think I am so. Perhaps no human being wishing to marry, and leave her father, and

But one day, long after this, I fection, or more faithfully requite it.” got (as I fancied) a clue to the mystery: I was

“Then you have really been so fortunate as talking to Lily about dress, and among other to escape the darts of Cupid? You, so admired, things said, 'why do you never wear blue or rose-colour, when both are so becoming to your sufficient interest in one, to render me careless

“Oh! if I never loved, I have at least felt complexion?'

of the admiration of others : but why should I ““I do not know,' she replied, in a musing make confessions to you that I almost blush to tone, unless it is because Gerald used to die make to myself?. Besides, it is useless to think like bright colours, so I got out of the habit of of what might or what might not have been. If wearing them.'

it be my fate to become a wife, a mate is already “ There was a melancholy in her eyes and provided for me, and we shall meet at the apvoice at that moment, which awakened a sus- pointed time. But if, as I believe, my life is to picion of the truth, but nothing more passed.

be a single one, I must endeavour to make my“ Lily and Gerald did meet once or twice at self useful to the many, instead of being devoted the intervals of two or three years, but it was to one; and since woman must always have an always in the presence of witnesses, and both object to love and to cling to, so long as my appeared as cool and distant as though they had father's life is spared I need no stronger claim never been friends. I once ventured to remark on my affections or my duty. When I lose to her in a careless tone, when joking about the him mischief she had done among the gentlemen,

“ What more she said I know not; some of Well, I wonder you and Gerald did not make their friends re-entered the summer-house, and

such excuses.

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