THE LADIES' WREATH.

PART FIRST.

FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.*

THE name of Mrs. Hemans stands pre-eminent among female poetic writers, as unquestionably as the Rose holds the rank of "garden queen" among the flowers. She has gone from us, but the light of her genius will never be dimmed, nor the song of her harp forgotten. She has thrilled those chords of the human soul, which, while the race of man continues, cannot but respond to her sentiments.Love, in all its purest, holiest, sweetest emotions of household affections, patriotism and devotion, was the mighty spell by which she wrought; and till love shall cease from earth, her name can never die.

In perusing the Poems of Mrs. Hemans, we are struck with her wonderful perception of the beautiful. This seems to be her peculiar gift. Whatever be the scene described, the character or object introduced, she always

*The Poems of Mrs. Hemans have been published in a variety of forms, and in many editions. The latest and most complete is the American edition, published, since her decease, by Mr. Ash, of Philadelphia. It comprises all her works, in one vol. octavo.

gathers around her images and allusions of exceeding beauty; and these selected with a moral taste so pure and refined, that it seems to have shed the lustre of heaven upon the things of earth.

This exhibition of refined moral taste, which can only be cultivated in perfection when regulated by piety of heart, will be of inestimable benefit to the young imaginative reader; and so purely beautiful did her Poems appear, that we scarcely knew when to pause in our selection. Mrs. Hemans does, in truth, merit the gratitude as well as admiration of her sex, for she has exalted the genius of woman, and shown an example of excellence in private life,— thus proving that the cultivation of the highest gifts of intellect are not incompatible with the performance of our humblest duties.

She was born in Liverpool. Her maiden name was Browne. Her father was a native of Ireland; her mother was a German lady, a Miss Wagner, but descended from a Venetian family. To these circumstances Mrs. Hemans would often playfully allude, as accounting for the strong tinge of romance and poetry which pervaded her character from her earliest years. Another circumstance, which undoubtedly operated strongly in the development of these traits, was the removal of her family, when she was very young, to North Wales. That land of wild mountain scenery and ancient minstrelsy, was the fitting place to impart sublimity to her youthful fancies, and elevate her feelings with the glow of patriotism and devotion. She married early, and settled in the neighborhood of St. Asaphs-but her married life was not happy. This domestic infelicity, was to her a most painful subject, one to which she could bear no allusion; and the tenderness and forbearance with which she, while living, treated the faults of her husband, render it the duty of those, who love her memory, to forbear, as far as possible, from adverting to scenes and sufferings that so tried and tortured her sensitive heart. Suffice it

to say, that her husband left her and his five young sons to struggle, as they might, with sorrow, and the cold, selfish world. Mrs. Hemans continued to reside in Wales with her mother, till the death of the latter, when the former removed to Wavertree, in the neighborhood of Liverpool. Here she resided about three years, and then again removed to Dublin, where the expenses of educating her sons would, she found, be more within her means. But sorrow, care, and the "wasting task and lone" of her minstrel vocation, had brought on a deep disease, which the sympathy of friends (and who that ever read the outpourings of her soul was not her friend?) could not alleviate or remove. She closed her life May 30th, 1835, "and died as stars go down!" her genius bright and expanding till the last, and trust in her Redeemer, calming every fear, and cheering the darkness of the tomb with the holy light of faith and love.

"We would not win thee back; thy lyre e'en here
Breathed the undying music of the sky—

Its tone was not of earth, too sweetly clear
To blend with aught of life's sad harmony.
Then joy for thee, crowned one! forever wearing
Immortal glory on thy radiant brow;

Bard of eternity! in triumph bearing

A lofty part in heaven's sweet hymn, even now.
Joy, joy for thee!"

MRS. HEMANS' POEMS.

MADELINE.

A DOMESTIC TALE.

"My child, my child, thou leav'st me!—I shall hear
The gentle voice no more, that blest mine ear
With its first utterance; I shall miss the sound
Of thy light step amidst the flowers around,
And thy soft breathing hymn at twilight's close,
And thy 'Good-night' at parting for repose.
Under the vine-leaves I shall sit alone,

And the low breeze will have a mournful tone
Amidst their tendrils, while I think of thee,
My child! and thou, along the moonlight sea,
With a soft sadness haply in thy glance,

Shall watch thine own, thy pleasant land of France,
Fading to air. Yet, blessings with thee go!
Love guard thee, gentlest! and the exile's woe
From thy young heart be far! - and sorrow not
For me, sweet daughter! in my lonely lot,
God shall be with me. - Now farewell, farewell!
Thou that hast been what words may never tell
Unto thy mother's bosom, since the days

When thou wert pillowed there, and wont to raise
In sudden laughter thence thy loving eye

That still sought mine:- these moments are gone by;
Thou too must go, my flower!—yet with thee dwell
The peace of God !-One, one more gaze - farewell!"