QUEEN MARY'S RETURN TO SCOTLAND. After a youth by woes o'ercast, THE SKY-LARK Bird of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place- Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place- TO TIIE COMET OF 1811. How lovely is this wilder'd scene, As twilight from her vaults so blue Steals soft o'er Yarrow's mountains green, To sleep embalm'd in midnight dew! All hail, ye hills, whose towering height, Like shadows, scoops the yielding sky! And thou, mysterious guest of night, Dread traveller of immensity! Stranger of heaven! I bid thee hail! Shred from the pall of glory riven, That flashest in celestial gale, Broad pennon of the King of Heaven ! Art thou the flag of wo and death, From angel's ensign-staff unfuria ? Art thou the standard of His wrath goud in No latent evil we can deem, Bright herald of the eternal throne ! Thy streaming locks so lovely pale- Stranger of heaven, 1 bid thee hail! Why sought these polar paths again, To fling thy vesture o’er the wain? And vanishest from human view, Through wilds of yon empyreal blue! To sail the boundless skies with thee, Lil foam-bells on a tranquil sea ! The icicles from off the pole; Where other moons and planets roll? Smile on a rapt enthusiast's dream; And airy as thine ambient beam ! Our northern arch at eve adorn; Light the gray portals of the morn! FELICIA HEMANS, 1793–1835. Felicia DOROT EA Browne was the daughter of a Liverpool merchant, and was born on the 25th of September, 1793. From her earliest years she was remarkable for her extreme beauty and precocious talent. At the age of seven, father was unsuccessful in business and removed to Wales. llere the young her match proved a very unhappy one; and after they had lived together six years, in 1818 Captain Hemans, whose health had been impaired by a military life, determined to try the effects of a southern elimate, and went to Italy. Mrs. Hemans, with her five boys, repaired to her maternal roof, and the two never met again. She continued her studies in her rural retreat, acquiring several languages, and in 1819 obtained a prize of £50 for the best poem upon Sir William Wallace. In 1820, she published the “Skeptic,” which was favorably noticed in the “Edinburgh Monthly Magazine." In June, 1821, she obtained the prize awarded by the Royal Society of Literature for the best poem on the subject of “Dartmoor.”! “The Voice of Spring,” perhaps the best known and the best loved of all her lyrics, was written early in the year 1823. In the latter part of the same year, she published “The Vespers of Palermo," a tragedy, which was considered a failure; and in 1826 appeared her best poem, “The Forest Sanctuary,”? which was brought out in conjunction with the “ Lays of Many Lands." Every successive year brought fresh proofs of her widely-extending fame. In 1828, having suffered the loss of her mother-an aMiction which went down into the very depths of her soul-she removed to Wavertree, near Liverpool, and soon gave to the world “Lays of Leisure Hours,” “National Lyrics," and other poems. In 1829, she made a visit to Scotland, and was most cordially received by Sir Walter Scott, Jeffrey, and other distinguished literary characters of the Scottish metropolis.3 Early in 1830, she published her volume of “Songs of the Affections,” and in the month of June she accomplished a project which she had long had at heart, of making a visit to the Lakes of Westmoreland, and to the poet Wordsworth. On returning thence, she went to reside in Dublin, where her brother, Major Browne, was settled. She entered very little into the general society of Dublin, but devoted most of her time to the eduortion of her children. Her health, however, was quite feeble, so that, in her own language, “the exertion of writing became quite irksome.” Early in 1834 appeared her “Hymns for Childhood," which was soon followed by "Scenes and Hymns of Life," and both were noticed very favorably in the periodicals of the day.' But her course of life was nearly run; a cold, taken by being out too late in the evening, terminated in a fever, and she breathed her last, without a pain or struggle, on the 16th of May, 1835. Her remains were deposited in a vault beneath St. Anne's Church, Dublin, and over her grave some lines, from one of her own dirges, were inscribed : * In a letter to a friend on the occasion, she thus pleasantly writes: “What with surprise, bustle, and pleasure, I am really almost bewildered. wish you could have seen ho chil. dren when the prize was announced to them yesterday. Arthur sprang from his · Latin Exercise,' and shouted, . Now I am sure mamma is a better poet ihan Lord Byron." 1 This is a tale of a Protestant convert, who fled from the persecution of his native land (Spain) to America, taking with him his wife and child. The wife, deeply loving her husband, but not a convert to his faith, exhausted with previous anxiety and sorrow, dies at sea, and the husband and child reach their “ Forest Sanctuary" in the New World, where the father recounts to the con the story of his persecutions, exile, and bereavement. a In the “ Edinburgh Review for October, 1929, appeared an article on the poetry of Mrs. Hemans, from the masterly pen of Jeffrey, who, with great delicacy and discrimination, touches upon the peculiar characteristics of her style. - Almost all her poems," writes this high authority, -are rich with fine descriptions, and studded over with images of visible beauty. But these are never idle ornaments; all her pomps have a meaning, and her flowers and her gems are arranged, as they are said to be among Eastern lovers, so as to speak the language of truth and passion. This is peculiarly remarkable in some little pieces, which seemn at first sight to be purely descriptivo-hut are soon found to tell upon the heart, with a deep moral and pathetie impression." * Of the beauty of this scenery, she thus writes: “Yesterday I rode round Grasmere and Rydal Lake. It was a glorious evening, and the imaged heavens in the waters more completely filled my mind, even to overtlowing, than I think any object in nature ever did before. “ Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit! rest thee now! His seal was on thy brow. Soul to its place on high ! No more may fear to die." Though Mrs. Hemans may be inferior to some of the female poets of the nineteenth century in some particulars—to Joanna Baillie, for instance, in vigor of conception, to Caroline Bowles in simple pathos, or to Mary Howitt in fresh nature, yet, as a female writer, influencing not only the female but the general mind, considering too the different styles in which she has excelled and how much she has written, she is undoubtedly entitled to rank above all her contemporaries. This pre-eminence has been acknowledged, not only in England but in our own country. In her poetry, religious truth, moral purity, intellectual beauty, beautiful imagery, and melodious versification, all meet together: and while it addresses itself to the better feelings of our nature, it at the same time exalts the imagination and refines the taste. “Her forte," says a discriminating critic, “lay in depicting whatever tends to beautify and embellish domestic life, by purifying the passions and by sanctifying the affections; making man an undying and unquenchable spirit, and earth, his abode, a holy place." From one who has written so much and so well it is difficult to know what to extract, and where to stop; but the following pieces will, I believe, give a pretty correct idea of her general style. HEBREW MOTHER. The rose was rich in bloom on Sharon's plain, |