ency and a too excitable sensibility, exaggerated as they have been by the necessities of hasty composition, have prevented him from displaying as yet the full power of his genius. It is by no means unlikely, that, when he has somewhat tamed the impetuosity of his feelings, and brooded with more quiet intensity over the large stores of poetry which lie chaotically in his nature, he may yet produce a work which will rival, and perhaps excel, the creations of his most distinguished contemporaries. He has that vigor, truthfulness, and manliness of character, that freedom from conventional shackles,-that careless disregard of Mr. Prettyman's notion as to what constitutes the high, and Miss Betty's notion as to what constitutes the low,—that native energy and independence of nature,-which form the basis of the character of every great genius, and without which poetry is apt to be a mere echo of the drawing-room, and to idealize affectations instead of realities.

We are glad to perceive, that Mr. Griswold has done some justice to the poetical powers of Mrs. Maria Brooks, author of "Zóphiël, or the Bride of Seven." This lady has generally written under the name of Maria del Occidente. Her poems evince mental qualities, which, if they had been employed on themes or incidents more in accordance with popular feeling than those she has chosen, would have given her the first place among American poets of her own sex. Her mind has a wider sweep, and is more poetical in its tendencies, than that of any of her female contemporaries. In fancy and passion, she has hardly been excelled by any American writer. Her mind has been well stored with knowledge, her sense of harmony is exceedingly fine, and her command of language is almost despotic. She possesses great fertility of fancy, and a luxurious sense of the beauty of outward objects. Nature to her is "an appetite and a

passion." In the description of tropical scenery, there is a delicious richness, a dreamy beauty, and a "mazy-running soul of harmony" in her verse, which not only bring the scene vividly to the eye, but render it perceptible to the other senses. She has great warmth and occasional intensity of feeling, and gives it free and bold expression. Her poem of " Zóphiël," first published in London, in 1833, is a remarkable production. It has been much praised in England, but seems to be little known in this country. By many it is still considered the work of an Englishwoman. When republished in Boston, it was hailed by most of the newspaper critics with admiring ignorance or pert stupidity. Some were astonished to find a woman of the nineteenth century evincing more knowledge of Plato and Hafiz than of Bulwer or Hannah More; others were shocked, that she should so far wander from the "legitimate sphere" of female composition, as to attempt something more than the versification of sermons, or the vivification of commonplaces. Though the subject is, on the whole, delicately treated, there are a few stanzas which might have been omitted with advantage to the general refinement of expression. These were darted upon by persons endowed with a sharp scent for indelicacy, and represented, with certain mysterious nods, winks, and the other signs of prudery's freemasonry, as samples of the poem; and, accordingly, the most unjustly neglected work of genius ever published in the United States came near obtaining the dubious honor of circulating over the whole land as a book "which no young lady should read." We think that Mr. Griswold's selections from "Zóphiël," although they cannot give a full impression of its merits, prove that it contains poetical qualities which would reflect no discredit upon poets of far greater popu larity.

Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, of New-York, has written a number of short poems of much beauty, purity, and spirituality. "The Sinless Child" and "The Acorn" manifest qualities of mind and heart, which are worthy of a more thorough development. They display much depth of feeling and af fluence of fancy, and are singularly pure and sweet in their tone. "The Sinless Child," though deficient in artistical finish, contains many passages of a high order of poetry, and is stainless as its subject. It gives evidence, also, of a capacity for a more extended sweep over the domain of thought and emotion. Mrs. Smith is not merely a smooth and skilful versifier, indulging occasionally in a flirtation with poetry, to while away the time, but one whose productions are true exponents of her inward life, and display the freshness and fervor which come from individuality of character and feeling. She speaks of what she knows and of what she has felt. Her theory of morals does not seem to have come into her soul through the inlet of the ear. Her truthfulness is a prominent characteristic of her genius.

The poems of Mrs. Sigourney are very numerous and popular. According to Mr. Griswold, she has published six or seven volumes, of which the last appeared in 1841. The moral character of her writings is unexceptionable. She possesses great facility in versification, and is fluent both in thoughts and language. But much that she has written is deformed by the triteness and irregularity conse quent upon hasty composition, and hardly does justice to her real powers. Niagara," "The Death of an Infant," "Winter," and "Napoleon's Epitaph," are favorable specimens of her talents.

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Mrs. Child has written little verse, but the few metrical pieces which pass under her name are almost as good as Hannah F. Gould is a name so pleasantly

her best prose.

interwoven with pure fancies and good thoughts, that it is an unpleasant task to sift her productions, for the purpose of selecting those of enduring value. She is responsible for three volumes of verse, all of which have been read. Mrs. Amelia B. Welby, a young poetess of the west, has considerable force of expression, delicacy of fancy, and the poetic feeling in large measure. Mrs. Elizabeth Hall has acquired much reputation by her dramatic poem of " Miriam," which we noticed at length in a previous number of this Journal.* Elizabeth F. Ellett, Anne Peyre Dinnies, (author of that noble expression of high feeling, "The Wife,") Emma C. Embury, Lucy Hooper, Lucretia and Margaret Davidson, receive the due honors of Mr. Griswold's pen and scissors. He makes numerous selections from the female poets.

We wish that we had space to do some justice to the quick, teeming fancy of Willis, a quality which he exercises in the service both of sentiment and humor. But we have noticed his poems at length in a former number of this Journal,† to which we must refer our readers for an estimate of his powers. Pierpont has displayed much lyrical enthusiasm and forcible expression, which are worthy of more than a passing tribute. Drake's delicate creation, "The Culprit Fay," and his stirring lyric on "The American Flag," deserve commemoration. Hillhouse has written much which will not be forgotten. "Hadad" is a chaste and beautiful production, evincing skill and taste in composition, and pure and melodious in its tone. The "sunset-tinted haziness," through which the fine humanity and suggestive imagination of Lowell are seen, would delay the course of any critic who was not in desperate haste. Mr. Griswold has hardly done. him justice in the selections contained in this volume. There

* See North American Review, Vol. XLV. p. 312.

+ Ibid., Vol. XLIII. p. 384.

are many excellent thoughts and imaginations scattered over the compositions of Brainard, Pike, Dawes, Wilde, Ware, Wilcox, Neal, Peabody, Sands, Lunt, Clarke, and others in Mr. Griswold's collection, which if the reader cannot discover himself, he will be assisted in his search by the editor's kindly and genial notices. Had we room for extracts, we might select many pieces of merit from the writings of American poets of the second class; but time and space are particularly inexorable to reviewers, and we must pause.

We can hardly conceive, that a reasonable being should look with coldness or dislike upon any efforts to establish a national literature, of which poetry is such an important element. The man, whose heart is capable of any patriotic emotion, who feels his pulse quicken when the idea of his country is brought home to him, must desire that country to possess a voice more majestic than the roar of party, and more potent than the whine of sects,-a voice which would breathe energy and awaken hope wherever its kindling tones were heard. The life of our native land,—the inner spirit which animates its institutions, the new ideas and principles, of which it is the representative,-these every patriot must wish to behold reflected from the broad mirror of a comprehensive and soul-animating literature. The true vitality of a nation is not seen in the triumphs of its industry, the extent of its conquests, or the reach of its empire; but in its intellectual dominion. Posterity passes over statistical tables of trade and population, to search for the records of the mind and heart. It is of little moment how many millions of men were included at any time under the name of one people, if they have left no intellectual testimonials of their mode and manner of existence, no "foot-prints on the sands of time." The heart refuses to glow at the