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Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.
But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low flowing locks;
And lightly vault from the throne and play
With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek
On the broad seawolds i' the crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.
But if any came near I would call, and shriek,
And adown the steep like a wave I would leap,
From the diamond ledges that jut from the dells:
For I would not be kiss'd by all who list,
Of the bold merry mermen under the sea;
They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me,
In the purple twilights under the sea;
But the king of them all would carry me,
Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea;
Then all the dry pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea,
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft
Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea,
All looking down for the love of me.

LILIAN.

AIRY, fairy Lilian,
Flitting, fairy Lilian,
When I ask her if she love me,
Claps her tiny hands above me,
Laughing all she can ;
She'll not tell me if she love me,
Cruel little Lilian.

When my passion seeks

Pleasance in love-sighs,
She, looking through and through me,
Thoroughly to undo me,

So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple,
From beneath her purfled wimple,

Glancing with black-beaded eyes
Till the lightning laughters dimple

The baby roses in her cheeks,
Then away she flies.

Prythee weep, May Lilian !

Gaiety without eclipse

Wearieth me, May Lilian ;
Through my very heart it thrilleth

When from crimson threaded lips
Silver treble laughter trilleth ;

Prythee weep, May Lilian.

Praying all I can,
If prayers will not hush thee,

Airy Lilian,
Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee,

Fairy Lilian.

LOVE AND DEATH.

What time the mighty moon was gathering light
Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise,
And all about him rolled his lustrous eyes ;
When, turning round a casia, full in view,
Death, walking all alone beneath a yew,

And talking to himself, first met his sight: You must begone,” said Death, “ these walks are mine."

Love wept, and spread his sheeny vans for flight;
Yet, ere he parted, said, “ This hour is thine :
Thou art the shadow of life, and as the tree
Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath,
So in the light of great eternity
Life eminent creates the shade of death ;
The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,
But I shall reign for ever over all.”

MARY How Irr was born at Coleford, in Gloucestershire, where her parents were making a temporary residence; but shortly after her birth they returned to their accustomed abode at Uttoxeter, in Staffordshire, where she spent her youth. The beautiful arcadian scenery of this part of Staffordshire was of a character to foster a deep love of the country; and is described with great accuracy in her recent prose work. “Wood Leighton.” By her mother she is descended from an ancient Irish family, and also from Wood, the ill-used Irish patentee, who was ruined by the selfish malignity of Dean Swift, from whose aspersions his character was vindicated by Sir Isaac Newton. A true statement of the whole affair may be seen in Ruding's “Annals of Coinage." Charles Wood, her grandfather, was the first who introduced platina into England from Jamaica, where he was assay-master. Her parents being strict members of the society of Friends, and her father being, indeed, of an old line who suffered persecution in the early days of Quakerism, her education was of an exclusive character; and her knowledge of books confined to those approved of by the most strict of her own people, till a later period than most young persons become acquainted with them. Their effect upon her mind was, consequently, so much the more vivid. Indeed, she describes her overwhelming astonishment and delight in the treasures of general and modern literature, to be like what Keats says his feelings were when a new world of poetry opened upon him, through Chapman's “Homer",—as to the astronomer,

“When a new planet swims into his ken.”

Among poetry there was none which made a stronger impression than our simple old ballad, which she and a sister near her own age, and of similar taste and temperament, used to revel in, making at the same time many young attempts in epic, dramatic, and ballad poetry. In her twenty-first year she was married to William Howitt, a gentleman well calculated to encourage and promote her poetical and intellectual taste, himself a Poet of considerable genius, and the author of various well-known works. We have reason to believe that her domestic life has been a singularly happy one. Mr. and Mrs. Howitt spent the year after their marriage in Staffordshire. They then removed to Nottingham, where they continued to reside till about twelve months ago; and are now living at Esher, in Surrey. Mary Howitt published jointly with her husband two volumes of poems, “The Forest Minstrel,” in 1823; and “The Desolation of Eyam, and Other Poems,” in 1827. In 1834, she published “The Seven Temptations,” a series of dramatic poems; a work which, in other times, would have been alone sufficient to have made and secured a very high reputation: her dramas are full of keen perceptions, strong and accurate delineations, and powerful displays of character. She is now preparing for the press a collection of her most popular ballads, a class of writing in which she greatly excels all her contemporaries; many of them are favourably known to the public through the periodicals in which, at various times, they have appeared. She is also well known to the young by her “Sketches of Natural History,” “Tales in Verse,” and other productions written expressly for their use and pleasure. Mrs. Howitt is distinguished by the mild, unaffected, and conciliatory manners, for which “the people called Quakers" have always been remarkable. Her writings, too, are in keeping with her character: in all there is evidence of peace and good will ; a tender and a trusting nature; a gentle sympathy with humanity; and a deep and fervent love of all the beautiful works which the Great Hand has scattered so plentifully before those by whom they can be felt and appreciated. She has mixed but little with the world: the home-duties of wife and mother have been to her productive of more pleasant and far happier results than struggles for distinction amid crowds; she has made her reputation quietly but securely; and has laboured successfully as well as earnestly to inculcate virtue as the noblest attribute of an English woman. If there be some of her contemporaries who have surpassed her in the higher qualities of poetry, some who have soared higher, and others who have taken a widerrange, there are none whose writings are better calculated to delight as well as inform. Her poems are always graceful and beautiful, and often vigorous; but they are essentially feminine: they afford evidence of a kindly and generous nature, as well as of a fertile imagination, and a safelycultivated mind. She is entitled to a high place among the Poets of Great Britain, and a still higher among those of her sex by whom the intellectual rank of woman has been

THERE was an old and quiet man,

And by the fire sate he ; “And now,” he said, “ to you I'll tell A dismal thing, which once befel

In a ship upon the sea.

“ 'Tis five-and-fifty years gone by,

Since, from the river Plate,
A young man, in a home-bound ship,

I sailed as second mate.

“ She was a trim, stout-timbered ship,

And built for stormy seas, A lovely thing on the wave was she, With her canvass set so gallantly Before a steady breeze.

- - - - - excels all her contemporaries; many of them are favourably known to the public through the periodicals in which, at various times, they have appeared. She is also well known to the young by her “Sketches of Natural History,” “Tales in Verse,” and other productions written expressly for their use and pleasure. Mrs. Howitt is distinguished by the mild, unaffected, and conciliatory manners, for which “the people called Quakers” have always been remarkable. Her writings, too, are in keeping with her character: in all there is evidence of peace and good will; a tender and a trusting nature; a gentle sympathy with humanity; and a deep and fervent love of all the beautiful works which the Great Hand has scattered so plentifully before those by whom they can be felt and appreciated. She has mixed but little with the world: the home-duties of wise and mother have been to her productive of more pleasant and far happier results than struggles for distinction amid crowds; she has made her reputation quietly but securely; and has laboured successfully as well as earnestly to inculcate virtue as the noblest attribute of an English woman. If there be some of her contemporaries who have surpassed her in the higher qualities of poetry, some who have soared higher, and others who have taken a widerrange, there are none whose writings are better calculated to delight as well as inform. Her poems are always graceful and beautiful, and often vigorous; but they are essentially feminine: they afford evidence of a kindly and generous nature, as well as of a fertile imagination, and a safelycultivated mind. She is entitled to a high place among the Poets of Great Britain; and a still higher among those of her sex by whom the intellectual rank of woman has been

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