To whose cleared sight the night is turned to day, Is it not glorious, then, from thy own heart To thee the falling leaf but fades to bear And where they travel, there hast thou a home Thus make me ready for my upward flight. A Demon's false Description of his Race of fallen Intelli. gences. A Scene from Hadad.-HILLHOUSE. Tamar. I SHUDDER, Lest some dark Minister be near us now. Hadad. You wrong them. They are bright Intelligences, Robbed of some native splendor, and cast down, 'Tis true, from heaven; but not deformed, and foul, Revengeful, malice-working fiends, as fools Suppose. They dwell, like princes, in the clouds; Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky; Or arch their palaces beneath the hills, With stones inestimable studded so, That sun or stars were useless there. Tam. Good heavens ! Had. He bade me look on rugged Caucasus, Of everlasting winter. But within Vaults set with gems, the purchase of a crown. Had. There they well, and muse, And wander; Beings beautiful, immortal, Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come, Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles, Tam. Are they beautiful, And powerful far beyond the human race? Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it. When The sage described them, fiery eloquence Flowed from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme, Like one who feels a deity within. Tum. Wondrous!-What intercourse have they with men ! Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man, But oft with woman. Tam. Hah! with woman? Had. She Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft, And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves. They have been known to love her with a passion Stronger than human. Tam. That surpasses all You yet have told me. Had. This the sage affirms; And Moses, darkly. Tam. How do they appear? How manifest their love? Had. Sometimes 'tis spiritual, signified By beatific dreams, or more distinct And glorious apparition.-They have stooped Tam. Frightful to be so beloved! Who could endure the horrid thought!-What makes That feels so deathy? Had. Dark imaginations haunt me When I recall the dreadful interview. Tam. O, tell them not--I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a Spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deigned ?— Tam. Forswear My Maker! love a Demon! Had. No-0, no My thoughts but wandered-Oft, alas! they wander. Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb, To cause or cure thy melancholy mood? [He appears lost in thought.} Tell me, ascrib'st thou influence to the stars? Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st thou of the stars? Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night. Had. Like palace lamps! thou echoest well thy grandsire. Woman! the stars are living, glorious, Amazing, infinite! Tam. Speak not so wildly. I know them numberless, resplendent, set Had. Eternity! Oh! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!— With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,— Tam. What ails thee, Hadad?-Draw me not so close. Had. Tamar! I need thy love-more than thy loveTam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us part— 'Tis late-I cannot, must not linger. [Breaks from him, and exit.] Had. Loved and abhorred!-Still, still accursed![He paces, twice or thrice, up and down, with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence ] In the illimitable space, in what -Oh! where, Profound of untried misery, when all His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill With life and beauty yonder infinite, Their radiant journey run, for ever set, Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning? [Exit.] Hadad's Description of the City of David.-HILLHOUSE. "TIS so;-the hoary harper sings aright; How beautiful is Zion!-Like a queen, Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods, Hailed by the pilgrims of the desert, bound The Song at Twilight.-LUCREtia Maria DaVIDSON.* When not a murmur, not a sound, To Fancy's sportive ear is given; The remains and a biographical sketch of this remarkable girl were published last year by Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse. An interesting review of the volume appeared soon after in the London Quarterly: we are not When the broad orb of heaven is bright, Then, when our thoughts are raised above And tears of gratitude receive. The song which thrills my bosom's core, Which ne'er for mortal ear was made. "Twere almost sacrilege to sing Those notes amid the glare of day; When, sleeping in my grass-grown bed, And, sister, sing the song I love? aware that it has been noticed in any periodical in this country. Southey has rendered himself distinguished for his attention to youthful genius. Except the cases of Chatterton and Henry Kirke White, he thinks there is no instance on record of "so early, so ardent, and so fatal a pursuit of intellectual advancement," as is exhibited in the history of this young lady. "In these poems, there is enough of originality, enough of aspiration, enough of conscious energy, enough of growing power, to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patron, and the friends and parents of the deceased, could have formed; nor can any person rise from the perusal of such a volume without feeling the vanity of human hopes." "She was peculiarly sensitive to music. There was one song (it was Moore's Farewell to his Harp) to which she took a special fancy; she wished to hear it only at twilight; thus, with that same perilous love of excitement which made her place the windharp in the window when she was composing, seeking to increase the effect which the song produced upon a nervous system, already diseasedly susceptible; for it is said, that, whenever she heard this song, she became cold, pale, and almost fainting; yet it was her favorite of all songs, and gave occasion to these verses, addressed, in her fifteenth year, to her sister. "To young readers it might be useful to observe, that these verses, in one place, approach the verge of meaning, but are on the wrong side of the line: to none can it be necessary to say, that they breathe the deep feeling of a mind essentially poetical." The piece here referred to, is that extracted above. ED. |