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["To a Norwegian, the words Gamle Norgé (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'erwrought, O gentle, gentle Sleep!

Come with thine urn of dew,

Sleep, gentle Sleep! yet bring
No voice, love's yearning to renew,
No vision on thy wing!
Come, as to folding flowers,

To birds in forests deep-
Long, dark, and dreamless be thine hours,
O gentle, gentle Sleep!

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561

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
OF HIS POETRY, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY
FELICIA HEMANS.1

PREFACE. I trust I shall not be accused of presumption for the endeavour which I have here made to enlarge, in 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 ENGLISH MARTYRS;

A SCENE OF THE DAYS OF QUEEN MARY.

"Thy face

Is all at once spread over with a calm
More beautiful than sleep, or mirth, or joy!
I am no more disconsolate."
WILSON.

SCENE I.-A Prison.

EDITH alone.

Edith. Morn once again! Morn in the lone, dim The cavern of the prisoner's fever-dream; [cell,

[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,
And the bright waters round the prisoner's home,
Far, far away! Now wakes the early bird,
That in the lime's transparent foliage sings,
Close to my cottage-lattice-he awakes,
To stir the young leaves with his gushing soul,
And to call forth rich answers of delight
From voices buried in a thousand trees
Through the dim, starry hours. Now doth the lake
Darken and flash in rapid interchange
Unto the matin breeze; and the blue mist
Rolls, like a furling banner, from the brows
Of the forth-gleaming hills and woods that rise

one to whom flattery was unknown-as consecrated by the solemn truth of a voice from the grave.

Intended Dedication of the "Scenes and Hymns of Life,” to William Wordsworth, Esq.

"My dear Sir,

"I earnestly wish that the little volume here inscribed to you, in token of affectionate veneration, were pervaded by more numerous traces of those strengthening and elevating influences which breathe from all your poetry ‘a power to virtue friendly.' I wish, too, that such a token could more adequately convey my deep sense of gratitude for moral and intellectual benefit long derived from the study of!

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