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cockle-shells, or an imitation of them; but the These were, besides those already mentioned, name renders their vegetable descent unequivo- the Tattler, a daily paper of four folio pacal. It is pleasant to observe the simple origin of pleasant things. Some loving peasants, time im-ges, which he wrote entirely.; the True memorial, fall dancing under the trees: they pick Sun, to which he contributed, as also to the up the nuts, rattle them in their hands; and be- Edinburgh and Westminster Reviews ; the hold (as the Frenchman says) the birth of the ac- Monthly Repository, a Unitarian magazine; companiment of the fandango.”
the London Journal, and the Seer, which
now stands as a companion to the Indicator. Settled once again at his beloved Hamp- His dramatic productions were, The Legend stead, our poet found amid English scenery of Florence, The Secret Marriage, Lover's his “ old friend Pastoral, still more pastoral.” Amazements, The Double, and Look to He now strolled about the meadows, with a your Morals,—all of which were failures. “Parnaso,” or a Spenser under his arm, and In addition to these and his volumes of eswondered that he met nobody who seemed says, poems, &c., “I have written,” he says, to love the fields as he did. Toryism was at one more book, small, and still in manuthis time in the ascendant, and Hunt's lite- script, which I can take no pride in, which rary productions were not popular. It was I desire to take no pride in, and yet which not until the rise of Louis Philippe and the I hold dearer than all the rest." This voldecline of Toryism, that the signature of the ume, it appears, is upon the subject of reliquondam editor of the Examiner was greeted gion, and has appended to it his “ Chriswith its former favor. “It is not the best tianism, or Belief and Unbelief Reconciled," trait,” he says, " in the character of the pub- and is promised to be shortly published. lic, that they incline to believe whatever is We cannot better take leave of our old said of a man by the prosperous. I have friend than by quoting a few characteristic since been lauded to the skies for productions words of his own, descriptive of his present which at that period fell dead from the life :press.”
We will not go with Mr. Hunt into the “With the occasional growth of this book, with critical analysis of his own poetical produc- the production of others from necessity, with the
solace of verse, and with my usual experience of tions, though many of his remarks thereon
sorrows and enjoyments, of sanguine hopes and are as racy as the poems themselves. This bitter disappointments, of bad health and almost method of commenting upon one's own pro- unconquerable spirits, (for though my old hypoductions is not altogether unauthorized. Mr. chondria never returns, I sometimes undergo pangs Hunt gives for it the example of the old of unspeakable will and longing, on matters which Italian poets, with Dante at their head. He tered tenor of life, almost the whole lapse of
elude my grasp,) I have now passed, in one sequesregrets that Shakspeare had not been his years since I lost my friend in Italy. The same own commentator, and Spenser given cluci- unvaried day sees me reading or writing, ailing, dations respecting his Platonic mysticisms jesting, reflecting, rarely stirring from home but to on the nature of man. He would have en
walk, interested in public events, in the progress of joyed “ a divine gossip with him about his in things great and small
, in a print, in a plaster
society, in the New Reformation,? (most deeply,) woods, and his solitudes, and his nymphs, cast, in a hand-organ, in the stars, in the scene to his oceans, and his heaven.”
which the sun is hastening, in the flower on my Our author enlarges also upon
table, in the fly on my paper while I write. (He ous prose works, and the publications for perhaps we all do as much every moment, over
crosses words, of which he knows nothing ; and which he wrote as editor and as contributor. divinest meanings.)"
Quick at the fount the living waters play,
Then laughing down the verdurous grade they run, Like troops of children, of a holiday,
On a grassed playground, sloping to the sun ; The roguish ripples, dancing with delight, Twinkle and glow likę diamonds in the light.
Then gentlier flow they among isles of grass,
And promontories green, till calm and wide They move reluctant, swaying as they pass
The anchored lilies, that companioned ride With fleets of floating foliage broad and green, And cups of flowery gold that glow between. The scythe-ripe meadows greenly stretched afar,
Where the long waters wound, obscurely shining ; The wakening airs kept up a breezy war
With grass and trees their sudden flights confining; The broad hills billowed in the windy chase Down their green sides, from brow to gloomy base.
Soft came the airs, with leafy murmurs sweet,
And sensuous trill of insects in the grass ; Mild whispers, heard when day and darkness meet,
That move an inborn music as they pass, Tuned by the wheel-strokes of a distant mill, Now plashing loud, and now a moment still.
Gradual, o'er all, the mountain sent his shade,
Though yet, from western clouds, a ruddy beam Glowed on the waters, playfully delayed
By shallow ripples on th' impatient stream, That would not let the troubled splendor lie In the deep hollow of the nether sky.
Still at each windy lull it sought its rest
Like Faith's clear vision in a peaceful breast, —
Then broke in passion; when with hasty sound The wind awoke, and stirred the leaves, and flew, Trailing his skirt along the trembling blue.
The far wheel ceased, the swelling sluices roared,
The mill-bell tinkled in the twilight air ;
Remission blest of industry and care;
And hand in hand the sons and fathers walk ;
While on the grassy lane they, lingering, talk : Young swains and hoary tillers, how the State Should be advanced, and who are truly great.
Then heart of youth and tender sympathy
Drowned the slow rising of those manlier strains
And me alike, the world with its fierce pains,
We read, or seemed to read, in Nature seen,
An unknown Power; whose hand ästhetical, In beauteous life and leafy concourse green,
In hills and streams, and the far-thundering fall, On wind-worn mountain and tumultuous sea, Moulds the fair earth-shapes it eternally!
It was a mild Philosophy, whose head
Shone with bright hopes like glowing flowers, each day Renewed ; and she her willing votaries led
Through many an antique, long abandoned way,
Or wedding sweet verse to a piteous air,
The daisy-crownéd muse, full innocent, Bewailed in leafy nook some love-sick fair,
Weeping her mate in weary banishment; Sad stops and tearful melodies, that gave An echo to the wind and moaning wave.
Or in a pensive passion pacing slow
Along the margin of a reedy run,
Her snow-white, odorous bosom to the sun,
Then came the Druid of soft Windermere,
And charmed us to his pleasant wildernesses ;
The strong heart bending under stern distresses.
How swift the primal curse, Necessity,
Nipped all your wormy fruits and idle flowers; Searing their roots with acrid poverty,
And blighting their pale leaves with bitter showers : Long fallow time it needed, ere a hand With useful fruitage came and crowned the land.
“ God is in nature.” Aye, but in man most ;
And who would worship, let him not fall down
That diadem the night. Man wears the crown
Nay, worship God alone : be thou a man,
And not man's worshipper, nor Nature's. Show The power of freedom. What young Freedom can,
Were it not worth a martyrdom to know? If thou wilt rhyme, then be thy manly verse Made for a patriot's praise, –a traitor's curse.
Has the New World no passion fit to move
Heroic numbers ? Must the liberal air
Melodious lust and musical despair?
Look where the modern epic Manhood stands
Among the people !—mark him, you who deem Heroes a growth of other times and lands,
Or a mere fiction of the poet's dream; Up! to his grandeur, rhymster, if you can! And future times will deem you too a man.
Seest not the noble front,—the shoulders large,
And majesty of motion, that declare
Of empire, inevitable, rests? He goes,
Clad in the dress of toil, he moves a king
Of Nature's crowning : his deep voice more feared, His smile more valued, than the beckoning
Of law-made monarchs; and, penurious reared,
And every native beauty he will scan
Trust him, and he will love you ; do him wrong,
blasts you like a desert wind : Oppose him, he is courteous, and will long!
Contend with bloodless weapons of the mind;