SOUL. It is a member of that family Of wondrous beings, who, ere the worlds were made, The throne of God:-he never has known sin; ANGEL. O Lord, how wonderful in depth and height, Victorious o'er the stubborn fleshly heart, He lay a grovelling babe upon the ground, Polluted in the blood of his first sire, With his whole essence shatter'd and unsound, And coil'd around his heart a demon dire, Which was not of his nature, but had skill To bind and form his op'ning mind to ill. Then was I sent from heaven to set right The balance in his soul of truth and sin, And I have waged a long relentless fight, Resolved that death-environ'd spirit to win, Which from its fallen state, when all was lost, Had been repurchased at so dread a cost. Oh, what a shifting parti-colour'd scene Of hope and fear, of triumph and dismay, Of recklessness and penitence, has been The history of that dreary, life-long fray! And oh, the grace to nerve him and to lead How patient, prompt, and lavish at his need! O man, strange composite of heaven and earth! Majesty dwarf'd to baseness! fragrant flower Running to poisonous seed! and seeming worth Cloking corruption! weakness mastering power! Who never art so near to crime and shame, As when thou hast achieved some deed of name;How should ethereal natures comprehend A thing made up of spirit and of clay, Were we not task'd to nurse it and to tend, Link'd one to one throughout its mortal day? More than the Seraph in his height of place, The Angel-guardian knows and loves the ransom'd race. SOUL. Now know I surely that I am at length Nor have I even terror at the thought That I am clasp'd by such a saintliness. II. FIFTH CHOIR OF ANGELICALS. PRAISE RAISE to the Holiest in the height, in the depth be praise: In all His words most wonderful; Most sure in all His ways! O loving wisdom of our God! And to the rescue came. O wisest love! that flesh and blood Should strive afresh against their foe, And that a higher gift than grace O generous love! that He who smote For man should undergo; And in the garden secretly, And on the cross on high, Should teach His brethren and inspire To suffer and to die. Caroline Clive. 1801-1873. CAROLINE CLIVE, known to a small circle of admirers as V., and chiefly as the author of "IX Poems that on appearance took their place in the forefront of contemporary feminine verse, was the daughter and co-heiress of Edmund Meysey-Wigley, Esq., of Shakenhurst, Worcestershire-M.P. for Worcesterand his wife, Anna Maria, only surviving daughter of Charles Watkins Meysey. She was born at Brompton Grove, London, on the 24th of June, 1801. In her third year she had a severe illness, one issue of which was life-long lameness and consequent hindrance in many ways. We have reclaimed from "Paul Ferroll" a hitherto inedited poem that bears pathetic evidence of the unlifted shadow her lameness cast over her entire after life. All the more, however, her natively powerful intellect was strengthened by her being thrown upon her inward resources. By surely an unhappy misjudgment and reticence the family has given no memoir of her beyond the meagre Note prefixed to her collected poems by her daughter (Mrs. Alice Greathed) of 1890 (Longmans). This is the more to be regretted, because she wrote all her life, was a brilliant conversationalist, was held in highest regard within an exceptionally notable intellectual circle, and carried on a large correspondence. In 1840 her "IX Poems" appeared * in a humble little duodecimo, which fortunately fell into the hands of Hartley Coleridge, and was thus greeted in the Quarterly Review (September 1840): "We suppose V stands for Victoria, and really she queens it among our fair friends. Perhaps V will think it a questionable compliment, if we say, like the late Baron Graham to Lady — in the Assize Court at Exeter, 'We beg your ladyship's pardon, but we took you for a man.' Indeed, these few pages are distinguished by a sad Lucretian tone, such as very seldom comes from a woman's lyre. But V is a woman, and no ordinary woman certainly; though, whether spinster, wife, or widow, we have not been informed." More weighty-" Of 'IX Poems' by V we emphatically say, in old Greek, Baià μèv ảλλà POAA. It is an Ennead to which every Muse may have contributed her Ninth. The stanzas printed by us in italics, are, in our judgment, worthy of any one of our greatest poets in his happiest moments." The stanzas designated are 4, 9, 11, 14 of "The Grave"-one of our selected examples. Later came Dr. John Brown, in his Hora Subseciva, echoing Hartley Coleridge's Greek of the roses, and adding: "They contain rare excellency; the concentration, the finish, the gravity of a man's thought, with the tenderness, the insight, the constitutional sorrowfulness of a woman's-her purity, her passionateness, her delicate and keen sense and experience." In the same year (November 10th, 1840) she was married to the Rev. Archer Clive, then rector of Solihull, Warwickshire, and son of Edmund Bolton Clive, Esq., M.P. for Hereford. By him she had one son and one daughter. A second edition of "IX Poems" was published |