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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.
They rise in joy, the starry myriads, burning—
To them the sailor's wakeful eye is turning-
Couldst thou be shaken from thy radiant place,
Then who shall talk of thrones, of sceptres riven?
A world sinks thus-and yon majestic heaven
[From "Scenes and Hymns of Life."]
THE DYING IMPROVISATORE.*
JEVER, 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,
Of love and grief one deep, true fervent song,
This lyric was probably suggested by the "Corinne" of Madame de
A WORLD THOU ART OF MYSTERIOUS GLEAMS,
LIKE A WIZARD'S MAGIC GLASS THOU ART, WHERE THE WAVY SHADOWS FLOAT BY, AND PART."-MRS. HEMANS.
MAN'S VOICE, UNBROKEN BY SIGHS, WAS THERE, FILLING WITH TRIUMPH THIS SUNNY AIR;-(MRS. HEMANS)
And in the marble halls,
Where life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear,
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)
[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. His "Fairy Tales of Ancient Time" are characterized by a peculiar charm; and "Kilmeny," especially, is haunted by a strange and unearthly loveli
Hogg was descended from a race of shepherds. He first saw the light in
"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 enveloped.
"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.
"HOW MY SOUL THIS EARTH DESPISES, HOW MY HEART AND SPIRIT RISES!-JAMES HOGG)
66 WHAT TONGUE CAN SPEAK THE GLOWING HEART,
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-
JONNY Kilmeny gaed up the glen;
Lang the laird of Duneira blame,
And lang, lang greet ere Kilmeny come hame!
When many a day had come and fled,
When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,
When the beadsman had prayed, and the dead-bell
Late, late in a gloamin, when all was still,
WHAT PENCIL PAINT THE GLISTENING EYE?"-HOGG.
BOUNDING FROM THE FLESH I SEVER; WORLD OF SIN, ADIEU FOR EVER!"-JAMES HOGG.