we could almost say equalled; but Theodore partly makes amends for it, by the truth and philosophy of his sentiments. All men are dreamers; from the hour The brazen trumpet's clangour gives He leaves his home, his friends, his all- The lover hangs on some bright eye, The poet, nature's darling child, Paints visions which his heart holds dear,- And there are those who build their joys, Whilst others 'midst the giddy throng And when that chilly call of fear, Is all a dream! THEODORE. From the New European Magazine. SAINT VALERIE. THE following is a tender and melancholy picture of unfortunate love withdrawing from the world, and terminating all its hopes and desires in religious solitude.-ED. Raised on the rocky barriers of the sea, で Stands thy dark convent, fair St. Valerie! Lone like an eagle's nest, the pine trees tall Throw their long shadows on the heavy wall, Where never sound is heard, save the wild sweep A vesper song-those tones, so pure, so sweet, When airs of earth and words of heaven do meet ; Sad is the legend of that young saint's doom! When the spring rose was in its May of bloom, The storm was darkening; at that sweet hour, When hands beloved had reared her nuptial bower, The pestilence came o'er the land, and he With whom her heart was, died that very morn- Is the sole refuge for the heart's worst pain; Her cheek was pale, and in her large, dark eye F -- Literary Gazette. SPIRITS OF HEAVEN. THE fickleness and restlessness of mind which father Francis betrays in the following lines, depict, we believe, naturally enough, the revolutions of desire and mutability of feeling peculiar to those who seclude themselves from the world, and devote their lives to religious exercises. If we have any fault to find with the poet, it is for not making the supplicant invoke a few more of the ethercal visitants, for we believe that even those who mix with the world, and who, consequently, are less exposed to the influence of mental impressions than Father Francis, experience more alternations in their antipathies and desires, and, consequently, invoke a greater number of spirits, or, in other words, seek to gratify a greater number of restless cravings, than he did. The solitary recluse, however, is more subject to this fever of the mind than he who mingles and jostles with the world. ED. SPIRITS OF HEAVEN. Spirit of Joy! I will call upon thee! With thy bounding step and thy radiant smile; And leaves it to languor and melancholy. Spirit of Peace! descend from the sky, With thy calm, pure look, and thy promise of rest; And let the beam of thy dove-like eye Still the throbs of this troubled breast: Yet daughter of heaven! thy pinion fold, Spirit of Love! obey my voice! And lead my steps to thy fairy bowers, And let my heart in thy smile rejoice, And crown my brow with thy brightest flowers. Ah, traitor! thy roses too swiftly fade, Too soon the captive shall feel thy chain; Spirit of Hope! from thy bright cloud bend, My life shall be one bright round of joy. Shall shield me from every earth-born sorrow! I feel not the anguish to-day may bring, If still thou wilt promise a blissful morrow! Netley Abbey. FATHER FRANCIS. Literary Gazette.-- No. 312. |