And airs and woods and streams breathe harmonies: Her dearest blessings, Nature seemeth sad; While I to earth am bound:-When will the heavens be mine? If man would but his finer nature learn, Of simpler things; could nature's features stern torn; Ye holy thoughts, lift up my soul on high!-Ye hopes of things unseen, the far-off world bring nigh. And when I grieve, O, rather let it be That I-whom nature taught to sit with her On her proud mountains, by her rolling seaWho, when the winds are up, with mighty stir Of woods and waters--feel the quickening spur To my strong spirit;--who, as my own child, Do love the flower, and in the ragged bur A beauty see-that I this mother mild Should leave, and go with care, and passions fierce Hymn it around our souls: according harps, -O, listen, ye, our spirits! drink it in THE LITTLE BEACH-BIRD. 1. Taou little bird, thou dweller by the sea, Why takest thou is melancholy voice? And with that boding cry O'er the waves dost thou fly? O! rather, bird, with me Through the fair land rejoice! II. Thy flitting form comes ghostly dim and pale, III. Thou call'st along the sand, and haunt'st the surge Restless and sad: as if, in strange accord With the motion and the roar Of waves that drive to shore, One spirit did ye urge The Mystery-the Word. IV. Of thousands, thou both sepulchre and pall, Then turn thee, little bird, and take thy flight Where the complaining sea shall sadness bring Thy spirit never more. Come, quit with me the shore, For gladness and the light Where birds of summer sing. THE MOSS SUPPLICATETH FOR THE POET. THOUGH I am humble, slight me not, But love me for the Poet's sake; Forget me not till he's forgot; I, care or slight, with him would take. For oft he pass'd the blossoms by, And gazed on me with kindly look; Left flaunting flowers and open sky, And woo'd me by the shady brook. And like the brook his voice was low: So soft, so sad the words he spoke, That with the stream they seem'd to flow: They told me that his heart was broke ;They said, the world he fain would shun, And seek the still and twilight woodHis spirit, weary of the sun, In humblest things found chiefest good;That I was of a lowly frame, And far more constant than the flower, Which, vain with many a boastful name, But flutter'd out its idle hour; That I was kind to old decay, And wrapt it softly round in green, On naked root and trunk of gray Spread out a garniture and screen :— They said, that he was withering fast, Without a sheltering friend like me; That on his manhood fell a blast, And left him bare, like yonder tree; That spring would clothe his boughs no more, Nor ring his boughs with song of birdSounds like the melancholy shore Alone were through his branches heard. Methought, as then, he stood to trace The wither'd stems, there stole a tear- Brother, our sorrows make us near. Whispering, Above is brighter day! And where I sent up little shoots, He call'd them trees, in fond conceit: Like silly tovers in their suits He talk'd, his care awhile to cheat. 1 said, I'd deck me in the dews, Could I but chase away his care, And clothe me in a thousand hues, To bring him joys that I might share. He answer'd, earth no blessing had Oft stole him from his pain, in part. To meet the world, its care and strife, No more to watch this quiet flow, Or spend with thee a gentle life. And yet the brook is gliding on, Be at his feet an humble sod; WASHINGTON ALLSTON. I LOOK through tears on Beauty now; And Beauty's self, less radiant, looks on me, Serene, yet touch'd with sadness is the brow (Once bright with joy) I see. Joy-waking Beauty, why so sad? Tell where the radiance of the smile is gone It is not on the mountain's breast; Nor on those gliding roundlets bright And alter'd to the living mind (The great high-priestess with her thought-born race Who round thine altar aye have stood and shined) The comforts of thy face. Why shadow'd thus thy forehead fair? Like vapours from the tomb? Why should ye shine, you lights above? Well, Beauty, may you mourning stand! The fine beholding eye whose constant look Was turn'd on thee is dark-and cold the hand That gave all vision took. Nay, heart, be still!-Of heavenly birth Is Beauty sprung.-Look up! behold the place! There he who reverent traced her steps on earth Now sees her face to face. RICHARD HENRY WILDE. [Born, 1789. Died, 1847.] THE family of the late Mr. WILDE are of Saxon origin, and their ancient name was DE WILDE; but his parents were natives of Dublin, and his father was a wholesale hardware merchant and ironmonger in that city during the American war; near the close of which he emigrated to Maryland, leaving a prosperous business and a large capital in the hands of a partner, by whose bad management they were in a few years both lost. with a consumptive cough, he sought a distant court to be examined, that, if rejected, the news of his defeat might not reach his mother. When he arrived, he found he had been wrongly informed, and that the judges had no power to admit him. He met a friend there, however, who was going to the Greene Superior Court; and, on being invited by him to do so, he determined to proceed immediately to that place. It was the March term, for 1809, Mr. Justice EARLY presiding; and the young applicant, totally unknown to every one, save the friend who accompanied him, was at intervals, during three days, subjected to a most rigorous examination. Justice EARLY was well known for his strictness, and the circumstance of a youth leaving his own circuit excited his suspi. cion; but every question was answered to the satisfaction and even admiration of the examining committee; and he declared that "the young man could not have left his circuit because he was unprepared." His friend certified to the correctness of his moral character; he was ad RICHARD HENRY WILDE was born in the year 1789, and his childhood was passed in Baltimore. He was taught to read by his mother, and received instruction in writing and Latin grammer from a private tutor until he was about seven years old. He afterward attended an academy; but his father's affairs becoming embarrassed, in his eleventh year he was taken home and placed in a store. His constitution was at first tender and delicate. In his infancy he was not expected to live from month to month, and he suffered much from ill health until he was fifteen or sixteen. This induced quiet, retiring, solitary, and studious habits. His mother's example gave him a passion for read-mitted without a dissenting voice, and returned ing, and all his leisure was devoted to books. The study of poetry was his principal source of pleasure, when he was not more than twelve years old. About this time his father died; and gathering as much as she could from the wreck of his property, his mother removed to Augusta, Georgia, and commenced there a small business for the support of her family. Here young WILDE, amid the drudgery of trade, taught himself book-keeping, and became familiar with the works in general literature which he could obtain in the meagre libraries of the town, or from his personal friends. The expenses of a large family, and various other causes, reduced the little wealth of his mother; her business became unprofitable, and he resolved to study law. Unable, however, to pay the usual fee for instruction, be kept his design a secret, as far as possible; borrowed some elementary books from his friends, and studied incessantly, tasking himself to read fifty pages, and write five pages of notes, in the form of questions and answers, each day, besides attending to his duties in the store. And, to overcome a natural diffidence, increased by a slight impediment in his speech, he appeared frequently as an actor at a dramatic society, which he had called into existence for this purpose, and to raise a fund to establish a public library. All this time his older and graver acquaintances, who knew nothing of his designs, naturally confounded him with his thoughtless companions, who sought only amusement, and argued badly of his future life. He bore the injustice in silence, and pursued his secret studies for a year and a half; at the end of which, pale, emaciated, feeble, and in triumph to Augusta. He was at this time under twenty years of age. His health gradually improved; he applied himself diligently to the study of belles letters, and to his duties as an advocate, and rapidly rose to eminence; being in a few years made attorney-gene ral of the state. He was remarkable for industry in the preparation of his cases, sound logic, and general urbanity. In forensic disputations, he never indulged in personalities,-then too common at the bar, unless in self-defence; but, having studied the characters of his associates, and stored his memory with appropriate quotations, his ridicule was a formidable weapon against all who attacked him. In the autumn of 1815, when only a fortnight over the age required by law, Mr. WILDE was elected a member of the national House of Representatives. At the next election, all the representatives from Georgia, but one, were defeated, and Mr. WILDE returned to the bar, where he continued, with the exception of a short service in Congress in 1825, until 1828, when he again became a representative, and so continued until 1835. I have not room to trace his character as a politician very closely. On the occasion of the Force Bill, as it was called, he seceded from a majority of Congress, considering it a measure calculated to produce civil war, and justified himself in a speech of much eloquence. His speeches on the tariff, the relative advantages and disadvantages of a small-note currency, and on the removal of the deposites by General JACKSON, show what are his pretensions to industry and sagacity as a poi. tician. Mr. WILDE'S Opposition to the Force Bill and the removal of the deposites rendered him as unpopular with the JACKSON party in Georgia, as h's letter from Virginia had made him with the nullifiers, and at the election of 1834 he was left out of Congress. This afforded him the opportunity he had long desired of going abroad, to recruit his health, much impaired by long and arduous public service, and by repeated attacks of the diseases incident to southern climates. He sailed for Europe in June, 1835, spent two years in travelling through England, France, Belgium, Switzerland, and Italy, and settled during three years more in Florence. Here he occupied himself entirely with literature. The romantic love, the madness, and imprisonment of Tasso had become a subject of curious controversy, and he entered into the investigation "with the enthusiasm of a poet, and the patience and accuracy of a case-hunter," and produced a work, published after his return to the United States, in which the questions concerning TASSO are most ably discussed, and lights are thrown upon them by his letters, and by some of his sonnets, which last are rendered into English with rare felicity. Having completed his work on Tasso, he turned his attention to the life of DANTE; and having learned incidentally one day, in conversation with an artist, that an authentic portrait of this great poet, from the pencil of GIOTTO, probably still existed in the Bargello, (anciently both the prison and the palace of the republic,) on a wall, which by some strange neglect or inadvertence had been covered with whitewash, he set on foot a project for its discovery and restoration, which after several months, was crowned with complete success. This discovery of a veritable portrait of DANTE, in the prime of his days, says Mr. IRVING, produced throughout Italy some such sensation as in England would follow the sudden discovery of a perfectly well-authenticated likeness of SHAKSPEARE. Mr. WILDE returned to the United States in 1840, and was engaged in literary studies and in the practice of his profession until his death, on the tenth of September, 1847, at New Orleans, where he held the professorship of law in the University of Louisiana. His life of DANTE, and translated "Specimens of the Italian Poets," were nearly ready for publication, but have not yet been given to the press; nor has the public received any collection of his miscellaneous writings. Mr. WILDE'S naine first became familiar in our literature in consequence of a charge of having stolen his beautiful song, "My Life is like the Summer Rose," from an early and obscure Irish bard named KELLY, of whose pretended genius the alleged specimen was printed. The accusation was met with a simple denial, and when it began to be discredited, from a want of proof that such a person as KELLY had existed, to divert attention from this point it was declared that both KELLY and WILDE had translated a fragment of the Greek of ALCEUS; and some very good Greek verses, which might have been the original of the piece, were produced, and the impeachment generally believed until a gentleman came out with a card acknowledging the Greek to be his own rendition of Mr. WILDE'S performance into that language. Mr. WILDE's original poems and translations are always graceful and correct. Those that have been published were mostly written while he was a member of Congress during moments of relaxation, and they have never been printed collectively. Examples of his translations are excluded, by the plan of this work. His versions from the Italian, Spanish, and French languages, are among the most elegant and scholarly productions of their kind that have been produced in this country. ODE TO EASE. I NEVER bent at glory's shrine; To wealth I never bow'd the knee; Beauty has heard no vows of mine; Beloved of the gods and men, Sister of joy and liberty, In shady wood, or silent glen, Like those where once I found thee, wher.. 農 Despite the ills of poverty, And wisdom's warning prophecy, I listened to thy siren voice, And made thee mistress of my choice' I chose thee, EASE! and glory fled; For me no more her laurels spread; Its beams of splendor on my head. And when within the narrow bed, To fame and memory ever dead, My senseless corpse is thrown, Nor stately column, sculptured bust, Nor urn that holds within its trust The poor remains of mortal dust, Nor monumental stone, Nor willow, waving in the gale, Nor feeble fence, with whiten'd pale, Shall mark the grave I own. No classic page, with learning fraught, Nor daring speech, nor high design, Nor patriotic act of mine On history's page shall ever shine: Nor even a wreck, tradition toss'd, Of what I was when valued most In after years shall float to shore, And serve to tell the name I bore. I chose thee, EASE! and Wealth withdrew, My scorn with tenfold scorn repaid. Are comforts I must never know: Their souls are abject, base, and low. To mark my train, and pomp, and show: No war-worn soldier, shatter'd tar, Nor hapless friend of former years, It did but heighten all her charms; I woo'd thee to my longing arms: Its love in faltering accents tell; I chose thee, EASE! and yet to me But come again, and I will yet O! come again! thy witching powers A sweet variety of joys; And Glory's crown, and Beauty's smile, SOLOMON AND THE GENIUS.* SPIRIT OF THOUGHT! LO! art thou here? Or is the human mind thy cell Thy doom?-the doom of all who fell? No matter what or whence thou art! If thou hast power to yield my heart I know thee, Spirit! thou hast been My dreams-my thoughts-and what are they, All! all were thine-and thine between The throb of anguish, deep and keen ' Plunged to the depths of wo and crime, And live, the ETERNAL reigns sublime, And I have sought, with thee have sought, * The Moslem imagine that SOLOMON acquired dominion over all the orders of the genii-good and evil. It is even believed he sometimes condescended to converse with his new subjects. On this supposition he has been represented interrogating a genius, in the very wise, but very disagreeable mood of mind which led to the conclusion that “All is vanity!" Touching the said genius, the author has not been able to discover whether he or she (even the sex is equivocal) was of Allah or Eblis, and, therefore, left the matter where he found it-in discreet doubt. |