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Essays, in a Series of Letters, on the following Subjects: on a Man's Writing Memoirs of Himself; on Decision of Character; on the Application of the Epithet Romantic; on Some of the Causes by which Evangelic Religion has been rendered less acceptable to Persons of Cultivated Taste. By John Foster, Author of "Essay on Popular Ignorance," &c. From the Seventh London Edition. Andover. Mark Newman. 12mo. pp. 271. The Last of the Lairds. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish,” the "Entail," &c. New York. J. & J. Harper. 12mo. Published every month, for the Proprietors, by BowLES & DEARBORN, at the Office of the United States Review and Literary Gazette, No 72, Washington Street, Boston, and by G. & C. CARVILL, No. 108, Broadway, New York. Terms, five dollars per annum. Cambridge: Printed at the University Press, by Hilliard, Metcalf, & Co. Poems by Mrs. Felicia Hemans. Boston. Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins. 1827. 2 vols. 8vo. THE popularity of Mrs. Hemans's shorter poems has been almost unexampled. When some one of her productions, of a length not unsuited for republication in a newspaper, has been received from England, by nearly simultaneous arrivals in different parts of our country, we have known the same poem appear within a week in the public prints of New York and Philadelphia, as well as of Boston, and apparently copied, in each place, directly from the English publications. And her poems have continued to please, and have reappeared in the papers of the interior, till at last it would be very difficult to say how many times they have been republished, or where their circulation has stopped.. We have read them, as they have issued from Detroit. Such a rapid extension of literary fame and influence would hardly have been possible in any age but ours, and now, perhaps, in no other country than our own. Such success deserves to be remarked; and, while it is a high reward of exertion in the cause of virtue and good feeling, it it also a powerful incentive to literary exertion. A female writer, in a retired part of Great Britain, unassisted by any means of exciting interest but such as her own mind affords, finds leisure, in the quiet of her seclusion, to entrust her views of life and nature to verse, and, within six weeks from the time a poem is published in the metropolis of Great Britain, it is read on our seaboard, repeatedly printed in the interior, diligently perused in the little circles of our villages, and, it may be, makes its way across Lake Erie to the outskirts of civilization. This is equally honorable to Mrs. Hemans and to the country. It shows a fondness for good poetry to be general among us. We are accused of being a busy nation, too intent on gain; but there is nothing in our political history or the advances of knowledge among us, but shows, that the highest purposes of life have ever been rightly valued and cherished. Divided as we are by our pursuits, we are united in our attachment to the great sources of moral order, to truth and intelligence, to fine feeling and pure morality, not less than to active usefulness and free institutions. The contemplative life is not chosen among us, not so much because there is any refinement of mind which would not be properly valued, as because Providence has placed us in a country and an age, where action is becoming, and where the virtues can best be cultivated in the midst of society and its labors. If poetry, in a state of society like ours, is not classed with the great concerns and pursuits of life, it is, because all have a claim to its enjoyment. It interests and quickens the whole busy world. When men are released from the ordinary duties and regular occupations of life, they have all an equal claim to the gratification, which comes from exercising the imagination. Any work, which then serves as a relief, and at once exalts, and improves, and delights the mind, is a resource, from which none would see themselves separated. The frequent impressions of Mrs. Hemans's poetry are, therefore, to be explained by the general love diffused among us for good poetry, for pure and exalted feelings, expressed in chaste and glowing language. We are glad, that her works are at last presented to the public in a collection, printed in a style not unworthy of their excellence, and introduced to the public by an editor, alike competent to value their worth and to enforce their claims to general admiration. The friends of Mrs. Hemans owe Mr. Norton their thanks for the manner in which he has brought out her works, and the motives by which he was governed, motives and a manner alike honorable to his taste as a critic, and his feelings as a man. The volumes of the American edition of Mrs. Hemans's works, open with a poem commemorative of the confederacy, which the Swiss formed for the maintenance of their liberty, and which they fondly denominated an eternal one. The poem is written in a beautiful style, and breathes the spirit of freedom. But we are carried forwards to the Miscellaneous Poems, which have never before been collected, and among which we recognise many an old acquaintance, that we have read again and again with pleasure. Among these, there are so many of peculiar beauty, that we hardly know which to select. "The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers " has an interest for us, which it could not have, had the poetic execution of the piece been less sublime or less happy. "Every one," says the editor, "must feel the sublimity and poetical truth, with which she has conceived the scene presented, and the inspiration of that deep and holy strain of sentiment, which sounds forth like the pealing of an organ." In the "Hebrew Mother," we find a pleasing union of the sentiments of piety and maternal tenderness. "The Child's Last Sleep, on a monument by Chantrey for an infant daughter of Sir Thomas Ackland," is remarkable for the felicity of its manner, and, as it is short, and not so generally known as many of the other pieces, we cannot refrain from inserting it. "Thou sleepest-but when wilt thou wake, fair child?- When the lark's wing mounts with the breeze of morn, Not when the fawn wakes, not when the lark The hair, shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet; Thy meek dropt eyelids and quiet breast; And the glad Spring, calling out bird and bee, Shall color all blossoms, fair child, but thee. Thou 'rt gone from us, bright one-that thou shouldst die, And life be left to the butterfly! * Thou 'rt gone, as a dew-drop is swept from the bough, How may we love but in doubt and fear, Vol. i. pp. 34, 35. In the lines, "To the Ivy," a cultivated imagination gathers images from the most different periods of history, and crowds together moral associations. The moral to "The Lost Pleiad" is expressed in a striking manner. Why should we make so much ado about the death of man, when the majestic heaven shines "*A butterfly, as if fluttering on a flower, is sculptured on the monument." none the less, though a star has been extinguished. But we must not delay too long in commenting on these beautiful effusions of a genius, which connects all its efforts with the advancement of morality. "The Grave of Körner" is founded on incidents, in themselves the highest poetry; a gallant patriot, at once a brave soldier and a poet of merited popularity, in the bloom of youth and promise, at one moment inspiriting the Prussian army by the power of his muse, and the next leading the corps which he commanded to battle, was killed in a skirmish with the French; and his only sister had her existence so bound up in his, that, having survived him but just long enough to finish his portrait from memory, she died of grief at his loss. "Fame was thy gift from others—but for her, To whom the wide world held that only spot- Thou hast thine oak, thy trophy-what hath she?— It was thy spirit, brother! which had made The bright world glorious to her thoughtful eye, Woe, yet not long-she lingered but to trace The earth grew silent when thy voice departed, Have ye not met ere now ?-so let those trust Brother, sweet sister! peace around ye dwell Lyre, Sword, and Flower, farewell! " Vol. i. pp. 74, 75. |