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her Blind Mother through the
PEABODY SO Wood................ WILLIS 47
BRYANT 5 Fame ................ SCHILLER
... SCHILLER 39 December ........ EDITH MAY Forest Hymn ..... BRYANT 40
Frost ..................ANON. 53 Midnight at Sea ...... WILSON 43 BRILLIANTS ..........
This work is designed to form a collection of the choicest Poetry in the English language. Nothing but what is really good will be admitted.
We shall be obliged by communications of passages of really “beautiful poetry," which any of our readers may have stored in their own collections, or may discover in their readings, especially those flashes of genius which we gather together under the title of “Brilliants.”
No original poetry will be inserted. J. M. (Tivoli.) — His views are precisely in accordance with our own.
We shall give place to good translations of fine passages of foreign
poets. W. E. R.-In blank verse it is often a beauty to give the word unabbre
viated, although it makes a syllable too much according to measure. HEDERACEUS.-We shall be obliged by transmission of the poems he
describes. JUVENIS.—A collected edition of Mrs. Hemans' Poems has been pub
lished, we believe, by Longman & Co. ROSALINDA.—Talfourd's lon can be had in a neat pocket volume,
published, we think, by Mr. Moxon. We have to acknowledge the receipt of various “ Beauties” of poetry
from “ Å Reader," "M. M.” *“ Bristol," "A Celt," “ Lady L.," "M. P.;" “D. (Newcastle),” “ Cantab,"' " B. A.,” “ The Rev. S. I.” “ The Rev. G. L. T.,” “A Lawyer," " Rev. E. C.," “A Parent;” and many others, some of which will be used, and for all which we thank the contributors.
We were not prepared for the very cordial reception that has been given to this little work, and we have been already obliged to go to press with it three times; hence the delay in the transmission of some of the orders.
In compliance with a desire expressed by many subscribers, this Work will, in future, be issued fortnightly, with The Critic, on the 1st and 15th of each month. No. 3 will be published on February 15.
Some copies are stamped for transmission by post, price 4d. To persons paying for not less than 12 Numbers in advance it will be sup. plied stamped, by post, on the day of publication, on transmission of 38. 6d., which may be sent in postage stamps.
Wit and Humour.
In pursuance of the design originally announced, a collection of the true WIT AND HUMOUR in the English language, giving only the best, and however familiar, provided it be good, will be published in like form and price with Beautiful Poetry on the 1st of each month; and stamped copies will be supplied to Subscribers on the same terms as above.
The 1st number appears to-day.
THE ELMS OF NEW HAVEN.
N. P. WILLIS is an American who has distinguished himself by a little very beautiful poetry and a great deal of very coxcombical prose. His later works have not fulfilled the promise of his earlier ones. His first efforts were his best, and among them are to be found many poems which will take a permanent place in the literature of the English language. Like almost all the poetry yet produced by America, that of WILLIS is wanting in nationality. It might have been written in any country; it breathes nothing of the spirit of a new world; it belongs essentially to Europe and its associations. Thus it is even with the following, which is extracted from a poem delivered by the anthor before the Linonian Society of Gala College, in New Haven. But it is characterized by a charming delicacy, both of sentiment and of expression.
The leaves we knew
Brought me back ever? I have come in dream
ON SEEING A DECEASED INFANT. An American poet, who rejoices in the truly Yankee name of PEABODY, has, in spite of his name, published some very sweet poetry, and our readers will feel that the following, from his pen, is the production of no mean genius. It is in excellent taste, having an unaffected solemnity of tone and thought, and may worthily be treasured among our selections.
And this is death ! how cold and still,
Too cold to let the gazer smile,
The sparkling eye so sore is brigtig The cheek hath lost its rosete red
And yet it is with strange debatt I stand and gaze upon the dead
But when I see the fair wide brow.
That never look d so fair us now.
I wonder not that grief sboti sve
And that strong passion ODoe rebel That need not, cannot be suppressed
I wonder pot that parents' eres In gazing thus grow old and dim.
That burning tears and aching sighs
The spirit bath an earthir part,
And beaven would scorn the frozen heart, That melts not wben the infant dies.
And yet why mourn that deep repose Shall never more be broke by pain :
Those lips no more in sigbs unclose Those eyes shall beter weep again
For think not that the blushing Bower Shall wither in the chureb-yard sod
'Twas made to gild an angel's bower Within the paradise of God.
Once more I gaze and swift and far The clouds of death in sorrow fly;
I see thee, like a new-born star, Move up thy pathway in the sky
The star hath rays serene and bright, But cold and pale compared with thine ;
For thy orb shines with heavenly light, With beams unfailing and divine.
Then let the burtben'd beart be free, The tears of sorrow all be shed,
And parents calmly bend to see The mournful beauty of the dead;