["To a Norwegian, the words Gamle Norge (Old Norway) have a spell in them immediate and powerful; they cannot be resisted. Gamle Norge is heard, in an instant, repeated by every voice; the glasses are filled, raised, and drainednot a drop is left; and then bursts forth the simultaneous chorus For Norge!' the national song of Norway. Here, (at Christiansand,) and in a hundred other instances in Norway, I have seen the character of a company entirely changed by the chance introduction of the expression Gamle Norge. The gravest discussion is instantly interrupted; and COME TO ME, GENTLE SLEEP! ["Mrs Hemans writes for all tastes and for all ages, as well as for all nations, and therefore she may do well to write in all sorts of style and manner. And, at all events, she who pleases others so well, may be allowed at times to please herself. Such strains as the following might soothe the ear of Rhadamanthus, and charm Cerberus to slumber."-Eclectic Review, 1834.] COME to me, gentle Sleep! I pine, I pine for thee; Come with thy spells, the soft, the deep, And set my spirit free! Each lonely, burning thought In twilight languor steep Come to the full heart, long o'crwrought, O gentle, gentle Sleep! Come with thine urn of dew, Sleep, gentle Sleep! yet bring To birds in forests deep- SCENES AND HYMNS OF LIFE, ΤΟ WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, ESQ., IN TOKEN OF DEEP RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER, AND FERVENT GRATITUDE FOR MORAL AND INTELLECTUAL BENEFIT DERIVED FROM REVERENTIAL COMMUNION WITH THE SPIRIT PREFACE. I trust I shall not be accused of presumption for the endeavour which I have here made to enlarge, în some degree, the sphere of religious poetry, by associating with its themes more of the emotions, the affections, and even the purer imaginative enjoyments of daily life, than may have been hitherto admitted within the hallowed circle. It has been my wish to portray the religious spirit, not alone in its meditative joys and solitary aspirations, (the poetic embodying of which seems to require from the reader a state of mind already separated and exalted,) but likewise in those active influences upon human life, so often called into victorious energy by trial and conflict, though too often also, like the upward-striving flame of a mountain watch-fire, borne down by tempest-showers, or swayed by the current of opposing winds. I have sought to represent that spirit as penetrating the gloom of the prison and the deathbed, bearing "healing on its wings" to the agony of parting love-strengthening the heart of the wayfarer for perils in the wilderness "—gladdening the domestic walk through field and woodland-and springing to life in the soul of childhood, along with its earliest rejoicing perceptions of natural beauty. Circumstances not altogether under my own control have, for the present, interfered to prevent the fuller development of a plan which I yet hope more worthily to mature; and I lay this little volume before the public with that deep sense of deficiency which cannot be more impressively taught to human powers than by their reverential application to things divine.-FELICIA HEMANS. 1834. [The long-contemplated collection of Scenes and Hymns of Life was published soon after the two little volumes above alluded to. In her original dedication of this work to Mr Wordsworth, Mrs Hemans had given free scope to the expression of her sentiments, not only of veneration for the poet, but of deep and grateful regard for the friend. From a fear, however, that delicacy on Mr Wordsworth's part might prevent his wishing to receive, in a public form, a testimonial of so much private feeling from a living individual, the intended letter was suppressed, and its substantial ideas conveyed in the brief inscription which was finally prefixed to the volume. It is now hoped that all such objections to its publication have vanished, and that the revered friend to whom it was addressed will receive it as the heart-tribute of And morn on all the green, rejoicing hills, As if now-born. Bright world! and I am here! GOMEZ, a Spanish Priest, enters. Gom. Daughter, hail! I bring thee tidings. Ed. Heaven will aid my soul Calmly to meet whate'er thy lips announce. Gom. Nay, lift a song of thanksgiving to heaven, And bow thy knee down for deliverance won! Hast thou not pray'd for life? and wouldst thou not Once more be free! Ed. Have I not pray'd for life? I, that am so beloved! that love again [know'st Too long unused to chastening? Wilt thou not! Gom. His freedom lies In his own choice-a boon like thine. Ed. Thy words Fall changed and cold upon my boding heart. Leave not this dim suspense o'ershadowing me; Let all be told. Gom. The monarchs of the earth Shower not their mighty gifts without a claim Ed. Oh! unlike to Him Who freely pours the joy of sunshine forth, Gom. (laying a paper before her.) Is it so much That thine own hand should set the crowning scal To thy deliverance? Look, thy task is here! Sign but these words for liberty and life. Ed. (examining and then throwing it from her.) Woo the free spirit for dishonour'd breath your own lovely mountain-land, many of those compositions, the remembrance of which will ever spread over its hills and waters a softer colouring of spiritual beauty? Let me also express to you, as to a dear and most honoured friend, my fervent wishes for your long enjoyment of a widely-extended influence, which cannot but be blessed-of a domestic life, encircling you with yet nearer and deeper sources of happiness; and of those eternal hopes, on whose foundation you have built, as a Christian poet, the noble structure of your works. "I rely upon your kindness, my dear Sir, for an indulgent reception of my offering, however lowly, since you will feel assured of the sincerity with which it is presented by your ever grateful and affectionate FELICIA HEMANS."] Where my soul felt the beauty of His word. Gom. (turning from her.) Then perish! lost Ed. (suddenly throwing herself at his feet.) Oh! if the kindly touch of human love Gom. Away-away! I know not love. Ed. Yet hear! if thou hast known The tender sweetness of a mother's voice- Hath watch'd thy childhood-if fond tears have e'er Gom. (aside.) Her soul may yield, Thy prayer is heard; Follow, and I will guide thee to his cell. Ed. O stormy hour of agony and joy! But I shall see him-I shall hear his voice! [They go out. SCENE II. Another part of the Prison. Ed. Herbert! my Herbert! is it thus we meet? Ed. Yes! take me to thy heart, For I am weary, weary! Oh! that heart! The kind, the brave, the tender!-how my soul Hath sicken'd in vain yearnings for the balm Of rest on that warm heart!-full, deep repose! One draught of dewy stillness after storm! And God hath pitied me, and I am hereYet once before I die. Her. They cannot slay One young, and meek, and beautiful as thou, Ed. Herbert! I have cast The snare of proferr'd mercy from my soul, Her. O Edith! Edith! I, that led thee first From the old path wherein thy fathers trodI, that received it as an angel's task, To pour the fresh light on thine ardent soul, Ed. To heaven! my guide to heaven, Lay me upon the altar of thy God, The first fruits of thy ministry below— Her. My love, my sainted love! [home, Oh! I can almost yield thee unto heaven; |