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logic flows forth from his lips, in which, as in that, themselves needlessly to such a charge ? We of Lear's madness, the foundations of society think in general, that true taste in this, as in seem to quiver like reeds, and every mount of matters of dress and etiquette, dictates conforconventionalism is no longer found ; and in the mity to the present mode, provided that does not lull of that tempest, and in the returning sun- unduly cramp the freedom and the force of natural shine, how beautiful, how almost super-human, motions. There is, indeed, a class of writers who seem the figures of the two lovers, seen now and are chartered libertines—who deal with language magnified through the mist of the reader's fast- as they please—who toss it about as the autumn flowing tears. It is a tale of successful love, and wind leaves ; who, in the agony of their earnestyet it melts you like a tragedy, and most melts ness, or in the fury of their excitement, seize on you in the crisis of the triumph. On Geraldine we rude and unpolished words, as Titans on rocks had gazed as on a star, with dry-eyed and distant and mountains, and gain artistic triumphs in admiration; but when that stardissolves in showers opposition to all the rules of art.
Such are at the feet of her poet lover, we weep for very Wilson and Carlyle, and such were Burke and joy. Truly a tear is a sad yet beautiful thing ; Chalmers. These men we must just take as they it constitutes a link connecting us with distant are, and be thankful for them as they are. We countries, nay, connecting us with distant worlds. must just give them their own way. And whether Gravitation has, amid all her immensity, wrought such a permission be given or not, it is likely to no such lovely work as when she rounded a tear. be taken. “Canst thou draw out Leviathan
From this beautiful poem alone, we might argue with a hook, or his tongue with a cord which. Mrs. Browning's capacity for producing a great thou lettest down? will he make many supplidoinestic tragedy. We might argue it, also, from cations unto thee? will he speak soft words unto the various peculiarities of her genius-her far thee? Will the Unicorn be willing to serve vision into the springs of human conduct-into thee, or abide by thy crib ? canst thou bind him those viewless veins of fire, or of poison, which with his band in the furrow? will he harrow the wind within the human heart—her sympathy valleys after thee? wilt thou believe that he will with dark bosoms—the passion for truth, which bring home thy seed, and gather into thy barn ?" pierces often the mist of her dimmer thought, No: like the tameless creatures of the wilderness like a flash of irrepressible lightning-her fervid - like the chainless elements of the air-such men temperament, always glowing round her intellec.obey a law, and use a language, and follow a tual sight-and her queen-like dominion overima- path of their own. gery and language. We think, meanwhile, that But this rare privilege Mrs. Browning cannot she has mistaken her sphere. In that rare atmo- claim, And she owes it to herself and to sphere of transcendentalismwbich she has reached, her admirers to simplify her manner--to sift she respires with difliculty, and with pain. She her diction of whatever is harsh and barbarous is not “native and endued” into that element. -to speak whatever truth is in her, in the We would warn her off the giddy region, where clear articulate language of men--and to quicken, tempests may blow, as well as clouds gather. as she well can, the dead forms of ordinary Her recent sonnets in Blackwood are sad failures, verbiage, by the spirit of her own superabundant -the very light in them is darkness—thoughts, in life. Then, but not till then, shall her voice themselves as untangible as the films upon the break fully through the environment of coteries, window pane, are concealed in a woof of words, cliques, and Magazine readers, and fall upon the till their thin and shadowy meaning fades utterly ear of the general public, like the sound sweet in away. Morbid weakness, she should remember, its sublimity, simple amid its complex elements, is not masculine strength. But can she not, earthly in its cause and unearthly in its effect through the rentsin her cloudy tabernacle, discern, upon the soul, of a multitude of waters. far below in the vale, fields of deep though homely At present she seems to have seated herself, beauty, where she might more gracefully and like a second witch of Endor, in a cave of mystery successfully exercise her exquisite genius? She and vaticination-her “familiar,” her gifted hushas only to stoop to conquer. By and bye we band, a spirit well worthy of holding high consulmay-using unprofanely an expression originally tation with herself; and who, like the famuli profane-be tempted to say, as we look up the of ancient magicians, is equally adapted for darkened mountain, with its flashes of fire hourly humorous sport, and for serious thought and enterwaxing fewer and feebler, “ As for this poetess, prise. We have in spirit been visiting her cavern, we wot not what has become of her.”
and have come back in the mood of prophesying. While we are venturing on accents of warning, She has, if not taught, confirmed on us impressions, we might also remind her that there are in her in reference to the future progress of Poetry, style and manner peculiarities which a wicked which we may close this lucubration by expressworld will persist in calling affectations. On the ing. charge of affectation, generally, we are disposed to That Poetry, notwithstanding its present delay little stress-it is a charge so easily got up, graded and enfeebled condition, is not extinct, por and which can be go readily swelled into a cuckoo ever shall be extinguished, we may at once cry; it is often applied with such injustice, and assume. As long as the sky is blue, and the rainit so generally attaches to singularities in manner, bow beautiful—as long as man's heart is warm instead of insincerities in spirit and matter. But and the face of woman fair-Poetry, like seed-time why should a true man, or a true woman, expose and harvest, summer and winter, shall not cease.
Nay, may we not apply to it the words of " Night Thoughts ")-prose often kindling inCampbell, applied originally to hope
to poetry ; the prose of Chalmers and of Nichol
have these themes been worthily treated. But “ Eternal Art, when yonder spheres sublime
who is waiting, with his lyre in his eager hand, to Pealed their first notes to sound the march of time,
be ready to sing the steep-rising glories of the Thy joyous youth began, but not to fade : When all the sister planets have decayed,
Rossian heavens? We have the "Night Thoughts, When wrapt in fire the realms of ether glow, which are a century behind the present stage of And heaven's last thunder shakes the world below, the science ; but who shall write us a poem on Thou undismayed shall o'er the ruins smile,
“Night,” worthy, in some measure, of vieing with And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile.”
that solemn yet spirit-stirring theme? Sooner But in two things especially we perceive a or later it must be done. The Milton of Midprovision being made in the present day, for the night must yet arise. sustenance of the Poetic spirit, and for the further Another security for the future triumphs of development of the Poetic faculty. One is the Poetry is to be found in the spread of the Earnest advancement of scientific truth. This, so far from Spirit. That such a spirit is coming over the being, as in the vulgar notion, adverse, is favour- age, men feel as by a general and irresistible able to the progress of Poetry. Poetry, as a true intuition. There are, besides, many distinct evithing, must be furthered by tlie advance of every dences, and in nothing more so than in the preother section of truth. Poetry can rule by division sent state of Poetry. Its clouds, loug so light and as well as by multiplication. Poetry stands ever gay, are rapidly charging with thunder, and from ready to pour her forces through the smallest that black orchestra, when completely filled, what breaches which science makes. Nay, all the tones of power and music may be expected. All sciences are already employed, and shall yet be the leading poets of our later day—Tennyson, more solemnly enlisted into the service of Poetry. Browning, Mrs. Browning, Emerson, and BayBotany goes forth into the fields and the woods, ley—are avowing and acting on their belief that collects her fairest flowers, and binds with them Poetry is no child's pastime, but one of the most a chaplet for the brow of Poetry. Conchology serious of all serious things. This fills us with from the waters and from the sea shores gathers hope and high expectancy. It recalls to us a her loveliest shells, and hark! when uplifted to past period, when the names of prophet and of the ear of Poetry, "pleased, they remember their poet were the same ; when bards were the real august abodes, and murmur as the ocean murmurs rulers; when the highest truth came forth in
Anatomy lays bare the human frame-melody ; when rhyme and reason had never been 80 fearfully and wonderfully made--and Poetry divorced. It points us forward, with sunbeambreathes back a portion of the spirit which that finger, to a future day, when, in Emerson's fine cold clay has lost, and its dry bones and withered language, “ Poetry shall lead in a new age, as sinews begin to live. Chemistry leads Poetry to there is a star in the constellation Harp, which the side of her furnace, and shows her transfor- shall yet, astronomers tell us, be the polar star mations scarcely less marvellous and magical than for a thousand years.” We are, however slowly her own. Geology lifts, with daring yet trembling nearing that star! And, when men have become hand, the "veil that is woven with night and more enlightened, more welded into unity, more with terror,
from the history of past worlds, of penetrated with high principle, more warmed cycles of ruin and renovation of creations and de- with the emotion of love—when the earth has stroyings, and allows the eye of Poetry to look become more worthy of shining between Orion down in wonder, and to look up in fire. And and the Great Bear—between Mars and Venus Astronomy conducts Poetry to her observatory, there shall break forth from it a voice of song, and enjoys her amazement at the spectacle of holier far than Amphion's ; sweeter than all Orthat storm of suns, for ever blowing in the mid-phean measures; comparable to that fabled menight sky. In the progress of astronomy, indeed, lody, by which the spheres were said to attune we see opening up the loftiest of conceivable fields their motions ; comparable, say rather, to that for the poet.
Who has hitherto adequately sung nobler song, wherewith, when Earth, a stranger, the wonders of the Newtonian-how much less of first appeared in our sky, she was saluted by her the Herschellian heavens? In prose alone (ex. kindred orbs-“when the morning stars sang cepting, indeed, some splendid passages of the together, and all the Sons of God shouted for joy."
THE SONG OF TIIE LOCOMOTIVE.
AWAY, away, I burst!
Who will follow me ? who?
And I'm off! Whiz, whistle, whew !
And my never tiring arm, And my whispering magic wire,
With its space-destroying charm,
From the city I sweep along,
Like an arrow swift and true;
I sing out--Whiz, whistle, whew!
With the bower of delights he had made,
That his privacy none should invado ;
My gold in his purse dropped sweet,
My iron o'er his lawn I threw,
With a merry whistle, whew !
His forefathers' proud domain-
With a lordly and high disdain ;-
His ancestral oaks bedew;
With a piercing whistle, whew !
Defying my onward course ;
He dared me a passage to force ;--
And the startled heathcock flew
With a tearing whistle, whew!
And mocked my advancing tread ;-
And his little ones blessed me for bread;
When I made him my servant true,
To make way for the whistle, whew !
They said I must stand outside ;
But from high on their roofs I looked down,
And they stared at my giant stride;
I tunnelied in darkness through,
With a fierce whiz, whistle, whew!
With its coachman and guard in state,
In its glory and pride elate;
As my steam-cloud arose in view;
Came to meet the whistle, whew!
From the smoke of the city I boar
To the fields and the fresh sweet air.
With boons for the country too-
With my stirring whistle, whew !
Yet the timid have naught to fear ;
An infant might check my career.
Who will not follow me? who?
THE MAGNOLIA OF MAILLIENDIERE.
flowers, written for young people.
Will not that wood's far sea of Aowers
Haunt with sweet breath its distant hours,
Till every breeze that wanders by
Shall westward bear its mouruful sigh?
Wo! if thus drooping day by day,
It wither from her care away ;
And that far brother's trophy dear
Remain no more her life to cheer!
No! for-as if the giver's heart
Had steeped it in the life of love,
Never henceforward to depart,
Where'er his steps might rove-
It lived beneath those skies of France,
And rose under their blue expanse
With slow yet stately grace ;
Still seeming to her silent glance
As though of him it spoke,
Of feelings years might not efface,
Nor the dividing gulphs of space,
Nor all the storms that broke
Around his way—who now again
Was on the wild resounding main.
That brother, fond and brave, went down
And perished in the deep!
Then not her loved Magnolia's own
Dear whisperings could lull the lone
Sad sister's grief to sleep.
'Twas but a little while she pined,
Then passed away, and left behind
(An exile, nameless and unknown,)
The poor Magnolia Tree!
Deserted for a space remained
That home of her, the fond, the true!
And then a stranger came and trod
Those garden paths; that verdant sod
Now, with its flowers of every huo,
And groves, to him pertained.
And often, as he roved along
Where she with softest step and song
His earnest gaze enchained.
But soon their dazzling crowds
Or swan-white polar clouds ;
Wherefore, I do forget-
Passing, had briefly met.
Or for her jewelled breast.
That all her soul expressed.
Lifting her smile she asked,
Under what sunbeams basked-
As nearly as they might;
In water crystal clear,
It reached the royal court, and there,
One in her bosom, one her hair
The graceful princess wore.
Fell on those flowers of spotless hue, And when he felt their fragrance pour
Through all tliat proud and throng saloon,
Whose midnight was more bright than noon,
The fair and envied princess spoke,
For, as I am a king,
Its splendour we will bring.
No lowlier spot should own
We will its charms enthrone."
If torn away from there,
And heart-delighted toil.
That rare and lovely thing.
And won him more than farne :
And many a high and noble dame
The enchanted gaze to claim-
Or parted with for aught but love,
The tree of life above !
On his majestic way,
Pealing from hill to hill:
The harbinger of ill.
Of the Magnolia bright!
And patient care revived
And how the fiames survived ! As though the girer's spirit yet
Watched o'er what she had loved
Its root be thence removed.
Old garden-bowers, they say,
E. M. HAMILTON.
It is not our purpose to narrate the dangers residuum of Falmouth fog, or the slightest fragthrough which the Royal Family and their suite ment of a broken Black Eagle boiler, that is not cut their way in the dangerous passage from recorded. They have told in moving language in Osborne House to Ardverikie Lodge. The news- what manner the heir-apparent to the British papers have done it all. They have not left a throne, covered by a small south-wester, in a
very small blue jacket, with white canvas vest, | its attendants. Neither do we propose to relate
of a kindred kind,