and the "Siege of Valentia." It is in her charming relation of striking incidents and in her shorter lyrics that Mrs. Hemans particularly excels. Her poetry is ever elegant, true and tender in sentiment, perfect in harmony, and somewhat mournful in tone. It is the aspiration after a higher and holier sphere; the soul weary and dissatisfied with earth; the exile sighing for its home; and the heartfelt longing for the love and the truth divine. In common with all high souls Mrs. Hemans often gives utterance to feelings similar to those which prompted Margaret Davidson to exclaim:

Earth! thou hast nought to satisfy The cravings of an immortal mind! And it is this sentiment, together with the deep thirst for some true fountain of affection, which may be said to form the key-note of her poetry. Her music is a soft bird-like melody; low and plaintive, sometimes rising into strains of generous enthusiasm; and as the zephyr amid the forest greenery, it ever breathes if not of gladness, of all that is fair and free. The "vision and the faculty divine" appear seldom to have oppressed Mrs. Hemans as with a woe and a burden, and a strange joy, which must break forth in a wail of impassioned music or in a gush of wild exultation. The realm of poetic enchantment in which she delighted to wander was enwreathed with a kind of dreamy beauty, like one of Turner's landscapes; it was the home of all sweet and tender remembrances; of high and noble hopes; of warm patriotism and of undying love. A land moreover filled to overflowing with the whispers of seraphic song; those "lays of Paradise," o'er which as they vibrate amid his spirit chords, the poet vainly weeps, in his inability to interpret them more fully.

The serene repose of Mrs. Hemans' world of thought was seldom disturbed by the voice of the "rushing winds of inspiration." Her poems, therefore, seldom bear the impress of intense excitement, of strong and fervent impulses; they are more the expression of habitual states of mind and feeling; hence they have been charged with exhibiting a tinge of monotony. Theirs is not the fall of a mountain torrent, but the silvery murmuring of a rill amid the light and shade, the hills and the meadows. The light of genius with her was not a flash

of restless radiance, but the still, untroubled shining of the star. Consequently her muse is invariably of a deliciously soothing character. She is unsurpassed in graceful and felicitous expression, and in true and tender sentiment, especially where she has reference to the domestic affections. Take as an example, the "First Grief," or

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
They grew in beauty side by side,
They fill'd one home with glee;
Their graves are severed far and wide
By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow;
She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One midst the forests of the West,
By a dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none

O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where Southern vines are
drest,

Above the noble slain;

He wrapt his colours round his breast,
On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd;
She faded midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest who play'd
Beneath the same green tree;
Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
Around one parent knee !

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheered with song the hearth;
Alas! for Love! if thou wert all,

And nought beyond, oh earth! Few poets have more beautifully adapted their style of versification to the sentiment they wish to convey, than Felicia Hemans. Her "Song of the Battle of Morgarten," and that sublime little lyric, "The Trumpet," seem to ring like some martial music; and solemn and touching as the thought they express, is the flow of the following stanzas from the "Hour of Death :"

Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set-but all O Death! Thou hast all seasons for thine own,

Youth and the opening rose,
May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee: but thou art not of those That wait the ripen bloom to seize their prey.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set-but all

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

And, as strikingly illustrative of our previous observations, we would point to the "Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers," What a picture is contained in the first two verses. The sea, and the storm, and the wild, dark night!

The breaking waves dashed high,
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss'd;

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er;

When a band of exiles moored their bark,
On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They the true-hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame.

And truly beautiful are the stanzas following. The deep bush, the whispers, as it were, of the first two lines, and then the shout and the exultant music:

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom, With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea: And the sounding voice of the dim woods rang,

To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared,

From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared, This was their welcome home!

It is such noble strains as these, and as the "Treasures of the Deep," the "Voice of Spring," the "Spirit's Return," the "Better Land," and many others, which must ever haunt our memories, like some beloved melody, and which the world "will not willingly let die." There are some nice portraits in the "Records of Woman," the work in which, according to the authoress herself, "she had put her heart and individual feeling more than in anything else she had written." The noble story

ascending

Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallow'd day. The halls from old heroic ages gray

Pour their fair children forth; and hamlets low With whose thick orchard blooms the soft winds play,

Send out their inmates in a happy flow,
Like a freed vernal stream. I may not tread
With them those pathways-to the feverish bed
Of sickness bound; yet, O my God! I bless
Thy mercy, that with Sabbath peace hath filled
My chastened heart, and all its throbbings still'd
To one deep calm of lowliest thankfulness!

Sweet and touching is the spirit of cheerful resignation breathing through the above. The idea presented in the commencement of the sonnet is as fair lent of the serenest repose. and truthful, as the conclusion is redo

We experience a sensation of pure and unmixed delight in the contemplation of genius, where, as in the case of Mrs. Hemans, the service of song is united to solemn and entire consecration of soul to the best interests of time and eternity. Poetry should ever have a definite purpose. It should be a thing not merely to gladden our idle hours, though that is well; but, further, it should be devoted to higher ends, and to all great and holy uses. This is not the place for us to dilate upon the poet's work and mission. We would, however, have him to remember that the power and the gift divine were not bestowed upon him to be wasted merely on the things of earth. It is through genius that the spirit of inspiration speaks; and assuredly, the "light that never was on sea nor shore," is not wont to be kindled in vain; and woe be to those who disregard the warning voice within, and who permit that celestial radiance to gild the roses of earth alone, instead of ascending to its native heaven.

M. J. E.

classes. Altogether, Benjamin Pierce was a remarkable character. He lost his parents at an early age, and was brought up by his uncle, with strict economy, and after the severe fashion which anciently prevailed in the Northern States of the Union. Two generations ago, we may remark in passing, the life of the Americans was very different from what it is to-day. It was a life of hardship, labour, and privations; simple, reserved, and without show, as are always the lives of the founders of new states, and even new houses, provided the latter be of any power or importance.

In 1775, at the commencement of the Revolution, Benjamin Pierce forsook his plough, enrolled himself in the army, assisted at the battle of Bunker's Hill, and was made commander of a company. When the war was ended, in 1785, he bought fifty acres of uncleared land at Hillsborough, of which he formed one of the first settlers. There he built himself a house, cleared' his ground, married, and gradually caused sterility and solitude to fly from the vicinity of his dwelling. Under his roof grew up nine children, the fruit of two successive marriages. Even in the midst of his rustic labours, he did not, however, forget his ancient trade of a soldier. The recollections of the military period of his life were always present with him, and formed the pride of his old age. He had the happiness of being able to associate with a great human and patriotic interest, the emotions of youth, the birth of the first strong sentiments, and the first important episodes of life-in short all those things which we look back upon in old age with so much gentle, pleasant sadness, or so much deep regret, which are the eternal objects of our pride or our remorse. Hawthorn, on this head, relates some anecdotes which are truly touching. We will speak here of but one. One day, the old Benjamin Pierce gathered round his table all his old brother-inarms, who were then living, and, in the evening, at the moment of separation, he addressed to them these pathetic words: "We are about to separate, after what will probably be our last meeting upon earth. We shall all soon be called by the rolling of drums, veiled with crape, to rejoin our beloved Washington, and all the other noble comrades who once fought and bled by our sides."

But in reality the military period of his life did not come to an end until his death; for in 1789 he was made General of Brigade in the militia corps of his adopted country, and this post he continued to fill until he died, educating in arms several generations of the young Americans of the County of Hillsborough. Under the presidency of John Adams he refused an important and lucrative command in the army-raised in consequence of the then existing fear of a war with the French Republicwhich was offered to him, because his political opinions would not allow him to accept it. "No, gentlemen," he replied, to the deputation of senators, which was sent to try to induce him to accept it, "No, gentlemen, I am poor, it is true, and under other circumstances your proposition might have been acceptable; but rather than give my support, however humble, to the design for which this army has been levied, I will retire to the most distant mountains of my country, find myself a cabin, and live solely upon potatoes!" He thus refused to make war upon a republican government, and against a country which had rendered aid to the United States at their foundation. This occasion, however, was the sole one on which he refused to serve his country by the sword, and he brought up both his two sons in the army in which his son-in-law, General MacNeil also served. The old patriot died in 1839, after having been Governor of New Hampshire, and a member of the legislature of his own State for thirty consecutive years.

This old Benjamin Pierce suggests to us a reflection which does not apply only to the United States, but also to the whole of Europe; it is that in several countries the generations of the eigh teenth century, with all their faults and comparitively deep ignorance, were far superior to those of the present century. We are not so fond of the men of the past century, as to be in the least degree tempted to be unjust to others for their sake. They knew that they owed themselves to their country; that it was their duty to die for it, if necessary; and always to sacrifice to its welfare their own private fortunes and interests. was most especially the case in America, and upon the Continent: alas! the idea was sometimes carried to such an extent as to induce some individuals to believe that it was also their duty to

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