Spirit who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim, with the hallowed. fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." Let him look to his favourite Wordsworth, and see what that career is which befits him who meditates the great achievements in verse, and we have no fear but that at some future day we shall behold him on higher ground than the beautiful effusions in the present volume. It has been our object to make our readers acquainted with a name that is well worth the knowing, and we have thus, we flatter ourselves, been helping Mr. Hartley Coleridge to gain some of his distant fame,-a commodity that loses none of its value because it comes from far away. We take our leave of him, for the present, by quoting a poem of exquisite finish and beauty, which we have reserved for a final impression : "THE SABBATH DAY'S CHILD. TO ELIZABETH, INFANT-DAUGHTER OF THE REV. SIR RICHARD 'Pure, precious drop of dear mortality, Untainted fount of life's meandering stream, Of morn, a visible reality, Holy and quiet as a hermit's dream,- And stated limits of morality, Fair type and pledge of full redemption given, Through Him that saith, 'Of such is the kingdom of heaven.' "Sweet infant, whom thy brooding parents love For what thou art, and what they hope to see thee, Unhallowed spirits and earth-born phantoms flee thee; Thy soft simplicity-a hovering dove, That still keeps watch, from blight and bane to free thee; With its weak wings, in peaceful care outspread, Fanning invisibly thy pillowed head Strikes evil powers with reverential dread Beyond the sulphurous bolts of fabled Jove, Or whatsoe'er of amulet or charm Fond Ignorance devised to save poor souls from harm. "To see thee sleeping on thy mother's breast, It were indeed a lovely sight to see : Who would believe that restless sin can be In the same world that holds such sinless rest? A bliss, my babe, how much unlike to thine, "Thou breathing image of the life of nature! Say, rather, image of a happy death; Are far unlike that slumber's perfect peace Or change of hue, proportion, shape, or feature; "A star reflected in a dimpling rill That moves so slow it hardly moves at all,— Whitens the lustre of an autumn moon, A sudden breeze that cools the cheek of noon, Of Fancy may suggest,-cannot supply "Calm art thou as the blessed Sabbath eve, "So be thy life,—a gentle Sabbath, pure From worthless strivings of the work-day earth! May time make good the omen of thy birth, Nor worldly care thy growing thoughts immure, Nor hard-eyed thrift usurp the throne of mirth On thy smooth brow. And, though fast-coming years Must bring their fated dower of maiden fears, Of timid blushes, sighs, and fertile tears,Soft sorrow's sweetest offspring, and her cure,May every day of thine be good and holy, And thy worst woe a pensive Sabbath melancholy !” THE END. STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON AND CO. |