Marvel not

To see her color pass, and view the tears Fast gathering to her eyes, and see her bend

In very weakness at the fearful shrine Of memory, when the glory of the past Is gone for ever.

Gaze not on her now, Her spirit is a delicate instrument, Nor can ye know its measure.

How unlike

That wearied one to the bright, gifted girl,

Who knelt a worshipper at the deep shrine
Pined for lone solitude to read the clouds,
Of Poetry, and 'mid the fairest things,
With none to watch her, and dream plea-
sant things

Of after life, and see in every flower
The mysteries of Nature, and behold
In every star the herald and the sign
Of immortality, till she almost shrank
Of her own mind; and thus amid the
To feel the secret and expanding might
flowers

of a glad home grew beautiful.—Away With praises upon Time! with hollow

tones

That half reproachful voice that she hath spent

Her life at Passion's shrine, and patient there

Hath sacrificed, and offered incense to
An absent idol-that she might not see
Even in death-and then again the strength
Of a high soul sustains her, and she joys,
Yea, triumphs in her fame, that he may
hear

Her name with honor, when the dark shades fall

Around her, and she sleeps in still repose; If some faint tone should reach him at the last

Of her devotedness, he will not spurn The memory from him, but his soul may thrill

To think of her, the fervent-hearted girl, Who turned from flattering tones, and idly. cast,

The treasures of her spirit on the winds And found no answering voice!

Then prayed for death, Since Life's sweet spells had vanished, and her hopes

Had melted in thin air, and laying down Her head upon her pillow, sought her rest, And thought to meet him in the land of dreams!"

We abandon the design with which we began—that of a descriptive critical sketch of the poetical character and genius of the bright young creature of whom we have so sweet a record and monument in this volume. The task far more pleasing to our readers-to is far more pleasing-its results will be give them rather the opportunity of forming such judgment for themselves, by the selection of some further extracts, which may be taken as fair specimens of her powers and style. What she was already, all can read and see what she would probably have become, had she lived to a greater maturity of life and thought, we can only imagine from the high promise of her early performance. We select the and only regret that our necessary refollowing three poems for the purpose, striction of space curtails within these limits so many quotations we should have taken an equal pleasure in making:

As a loved presence back; oh! shine to

me

As to the voyagers on the faithless sea!

Joy's beacon light! I know that trembling Care

Warned by thy coming hies him to repose,

And on his pillow laid, serenely there Forgets his calling; that at Day's dull close

Meek Age and rosy Childhood sink to rest,

And Passion lays her fever dreams aside,

And the unquiet thought in every breast Loses its selfish fervor and its pride, With thoughts of thee-the while their vigil keeping,

The quiet stars hold watch o'er beauty sleeping!

But unto me, thou still and solemn light, What may'st thou bring? high hope, unwavering trust

In Him, who for the watches of the night Ordained thy coming, and on things of dust

Hath pour'd a gift of power-on wings to rise

From the low earth and its surrounding gloom

To higher spheres, till as the shaded skies

Are lighted by thy glories, gentle Moon, So are Life's lonely hours and dark despair

Cheered by the star of faith, the torch of prayer.

Oh! do not still my unbidden thoughts aspire

From my heart's fount? flows not the gush of song,

Though heavily upon the spirit's wing Lies earthly care-a dull corroding thing?

Must it be ever so

That in the shadow and the gloom, my path

Is destined?-shall the high heart always bow ?

Father, may it not pass, this cup of wrath

Shall not at last the kindled flame burn free

On my soul's altar-consecrate to thee?

Say, in my bosom's urn Shall feelings glow, for ever unexpressed, And lonely, fervent thoughts unheeded burn,

And Passion linger on, a hidden guest

Hath the warm sky no token for my heart, In my green early years shall Hope depart?

Peace at this quiet hour And holy thoughts be given. Let me

This fleeting world, and wandered far

and wide

Astray,-and worshipped still, forgetting Thee,

The one bright star of its idolatry.

Nor be these thoughts in vain

To aid me in this rude world's ruder strife,

When a high soul doth struggle with its chain

And turn away in bitterness from life,

Strengthen me, guide me, till in realms

above

I taste the uncontrolled waters of thy love.

Mr. Keese has admirably performed his task of editor. The memoir is in itself a beautiful production, and evinces a fine appreciation both of the loveliness of the character of its subject, and of the high poetic merits of her productions. We understand that the contents of the present volume form but a portion of the materials, of similar value and interest, remaining in the possession of her friends. We sincerely hope that such encouragement will be given by the public taste to the present volume, which may be regarded as an experiment in its favor, as to call forth the early appearance of another. We would gladly add, to what we have said, the beautiful tribute which Whittier's muse has cast, as a poet's offering of flowers on a sister poet's grave; but are forbidden by its length. The reader may find it appended to the memoir. The following brief offering by H. T. Tuckerman, with which we conclude, is not unworthy of a place here, as well as there:

"AND thou art gone! sweet daughter of the lyre,

Whose strains we hoped to hear thee waken long;

Gone as the stars in morning's light expire,

Gone like the rapture of a passing song; Gone from a circle who thy gifts have cherished,

With genial fondness and devoted care, Whose dearest hopes with thee have sadly perished,

And now can find no solace but in prayer; Prayer to be like thee, in so meekly bearing

Both joy and sorrow from thy Maker's

hand;

Prayer to put on the white robes thou art wearing,

And join thy anthem in the better land."

PATIENCE-patience!-a brief year and a half more, and a Democratic congress will re-assemble, and the disgraceful spectacle of the Whig rule, which has so often and deeply suffused the cheeks of both friend and foe, will be at an end! They cannot now continue together more than a few weeks; three months, at their remaining session, will be the limit of their last opportunity of making themselves ridiculous; and they will then share the fate of their own log cabins, cider barrels, and raccoon skins, which the people, where they have not forgotten, remember only with a blush of mingled regret and shame.

Patience, then-patience!-we say, for yet a brief year and a half longer, and all will then be well again. At the farthest, 1844 will speedily come round, and by that time we shall have recovered all the three branches of the Federal Government, the Executive and Senate, as well as the House of Representatives. Nor will there then be any great danger of the good people of these United States allowing themselves to be a second time entrap ped by so gross an imposture as that of which they are now tasting the bitter and nauseous fruits. Their hokkano baro, their "grand humbug"-to quote an appropriate expression from the dialect of the Gpysy race has played its part and effected its object, and is not likely ever to be available again-at least within the memory of the generation which has had one experience of it. It is vain for them to talk of a want of harmony between their President and their party; and to ascribe to that cause all the miserable and imbecile stumbling and staggering along of their party, in its possession of power purchased at the cost of so sad a wear and tear of whatever political conscience it ever possessed. That state of things is manifestly itself but the effect of another and a deeper cause, going back to the foundation of their organization as a party. Why did they have recourse to so disgraceful a system of electioneering tactics as that by which alone they got into power? Why did

they make themselves all things to all men? Why did they select candidates, from one of whom they allowed no distinct expressions to be elicited of the leading principles of policy which should govern his administration-and the other of whom was identified, by whatever political character he possessed, with all that was antagonistic to the real designs of the great majority of their own leaders and party? Why were they guilty of the shameful treachery to their only proper and natural leader as a party, poor Clayfine, bold, and manly fellow that he was-of abandoning him for men whose "availability" consisted only in noncommittalism and dissimulation? Why did they, in the face of all the manifest truths of the great laws of trade and political economy, assume the responsibility of promising to the people consequences to follow a change of gov ernment, the absurdity and impossibility of which all the better informed intelligence of their own party must have known perfectly well? This system of electioneering-in connection with other modes of popular influence no more honorable than this-brought them into power; and how could they expect, what right had they to expect, to be able to govern the country on any thing like a distinct and harmonious system of administration, through any set of men, representing the different elements of such a heterogeneous, discordant and chaotic rabble of a party?

One of the senseless imputations in which our opponents are wont to indulge against us, is what they term our spirit of party discipline and union, keeping us together in a more compact and steady organization, to which they mean to ascribe a certain slavish want of independence of thought and action. And this we sometimes hear them contrast with the opposite character claimed as a subject of pride on their side, to which they attribute the general ascendency maintained by us, notwithstanding occasional temporary exceptions, in the politics of the country. The existence of a difference between the two parties in this respect