OF STARTLING VOICES, AND SOUNDS AT STRIFE, A WORLD OF THE DEAD IN THE HUES OF LIFE, (MRS. HEMANS) "O SPIRIT LAND! THOU LAND OF DREAMS! THE DYING IMPROVISATORE. 179 They rise in joy, the starry myriads, burning— The shepherd greets them on his mountains free; To them the sailor's wakeful eye is turning→ Unchanged they rise; they have not mourned for thee! Couldst thou be shaken from thy radiant place, Swept by the wind away? Wert thou not peopled by some glorious race? Then who shall talk of thrones, of sceptres riven? When from its height afar A world sinks thus-and yon majestic heaven [From "Scenes and Hymns of Life."] LIKE A WIZARD'S MAGIC GLASS THOU ART, WHERE THE WAVY SHADOWS FLOAT BY, AND PART."-MRS. HEMANS. THE DYING IMPROVISATORE.* N EVER, oh! never more, On thy Rome's purple heaven mine eye Or watch the bright waves melt along thy shore- Alas!-thy hills among, Had I but left the memory of my name, Unto immortal fame! * This lyric was probably suggested by the "Corinne" of Madame de Staël. A WORLD THOU ART OF MYSTERIOUS GLEAMS, MAN'S VOICE, UNBROKEN BY SIGHS, WAS There, filling WITH TRIUMPH THIS SUNNY AIR;-(MRS. HEMANS) Where life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear, Let me be with you there! Fain would I bind, for you, My memory with all glorious things to dwell; [From "Scenes and Hymns of Life."] A MINGLED BREATHING OF GRIEF AND GLEE; OF FRESH GREEN LANDS AND PASTURES NEW, IT SANG, WHILE THE BARQUE THROUGH THE SURGES FLEW."-HEMANS. "FOR AYE,' WITHIN THAT LOVELY FRAME THERE DWELLS A SPARK OF HEAVENLY FLAME THE FOES OF HUMBLE AND INHERENT WORTH,-(J. HOGG) JAMES HOGG. James Hogg. [THE poetical works of James Hogg, the "Ettrick Shepherd," the friend of Moir, and Wilson, and Sir Walter Scott, are less known to the English public than their sterling excellence and fresh originality deserve. 66 His Fairy Tales of Ancient Time" are characterized by a peculiar charm; and "Kilmeny," especially, is haunted by a strange and unearthly loveli ness. Hogg was descended from a race of shepherds. He first saw the light in veloped. He "The intellectual history of James Hogg," says Dr. Moir, "is certainly one of the most curious that our age has presented; and when we consider what an unlettered poet was able to achieve by the mere enthusiasm of his genius, we are entitled to marvel certainly-not that his writings should be full of blemishes-but that his mind ever had power to burst through the Cimmerian gloom in which his earlier years seemed so hopelessly en"The finest vein of his poetry was exclusively that which ran among things surpassing nature's law. He was then like a being inspired; whenever his feet touched mother earth, he became a mere ordinary mortal. Amid the skyey regions of imagination he rejoiced in the power and splendour of his genius-an eagle of Parnassus; but when thridding through the affections and feelings of humanity, he was apt to sink down to the level of the commonplace verse-monger-or, at most, was a Triton among the minnows. But 'Kilmeny' has been the theme of universal admiration; and deservedly so, for it is what Warton would have denominated 'pure poetry.' OH, HOW THEY TRIUMPHED O'ER THE POET'S DUST!"-HOGG. A SPARK THAT SHALL FOR EVER BURN, SMILE OVER NATURE'S CLOSING URN."-JAMEs Hogg. 181 "HOW MY SOUL THIS EARTH DESPISES, HOW MY HEART AND SPIRIT RISES!-JAMES HOGG) 182 WHAT TONGUE CAN SPEAK THE GLOWING HEART, JAMES HOGG. There is no perceptible art, no attempt at effect, no labour. The magician 'In a cloudless eve, in a sinless world. ' There is a vague wildness and an unearthly hue in its landscapes-a super- BOUNDING FROM THE FLESH I SEVER; WORLD OF SIN, ADIEU FOR EVER!"-JAMES HOGG. B BONNY KILMENY. JONNY Kilmeny gaed up the glen ; And lang, lang greet ere Kilmeny come hame! Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still, WHAT PENCIL PAINT THE GLISTENING EYE?"-HOGG. "A MORTAL THING SHOULD NE'ER REPINE, BUT STOOP TO THE SUPREME DECREE; ["The stillness that lay on the emerant lea."] "Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been? AND SHEDS NEW GLORIES ON THE OPENING VIEW!"-HOGG. "HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR WHEN DAYLIGHT SPRINGS, BONNY KILMENY. YET OH, THE BLANK AT MY RIGHT HAND CAN NEVER BE MADE UP TO ME!"-HOGG. 183 |