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well from the appositeness of the sub

Marvel not ject to the present occasion, as from the To see her color pass, and view the tears unconscious correspondence of the des. Fast gathering to her eyes, and see her cription to the case of the “ Young

bend Poetess" herself:

In very weakness at the fearful shrine

Of memory, when the glory of the past LAST HOURS OF A YOUNG POETESS.

Is gone for ever. « Throw up the window ! that the earnest

Gaze not on her now, eyes

Her spirit is a delicate instrument, Of the young devotee at Nature's shrine,

Nor can ye know its measure. May catch a last glimpse of this breathing world

How unlike From which she is removing.

That wearied one to the bright, gifted


Men will say This is an early death, and they will write of Poetry, and ’mid the fairest things,

Who knelt a worshipper at the deep shrine The record of her few and changeful Pined for lone solitude to read the clouds,

years With wonder on the marble, and then

With none to watch her, and dream plea

sant things Away with thoughtful brows from the The mysteries of Nature, and behold

Of after life, and see in every flower green sod, Yet pass to daily business, for the griefs,

In every star the herald and the sign That press on busy spirits, may not turn

Of immortality, till she almost shrank

To feel the secret and expanding might Their steps aside from the worn paths of of her own mind; and thus amid the life,

flowers Or bear upon the memory, when the quick of a glad home grew beautifnl.- Away And selfish course of daily care sweeps by. With praises upon Time! with hollow Yet when they speak of that lost one,

tones it will be

That tell the blessedness of after years; With tones of passionate marvel, for they They take the fragrance from the soul, watched

they rob Her bright career as ye would watch a

Life of its gloss, its poetry, its charm, star

Till the heart sickens and the mental wing Of dazzling brilliancy, and mourn to see Its glory quenched, and wonder while ye The gifted and the lovely. Oh! how

Droops wearily, and thus it was with her, mourned,

much How the thick pall of darkness could be The world will envy those, whose hearts

thrown O'er such a radiant thing.

With secret and unchanging grief, if Fame Is this the end

Or outward splendor gilds them! Of all thy glorious visions, young Estelle ?

Who among Hath thy last hour drawn on, and will thy life

The throngs that sung thy praises, young Pass by as quickly as the perfumed breath

Estelle, Of some fair flower upon the Zephyr's Or crowned thy brow with laurels, ever wings?

recked And will they lay thee in the quiet grave, That wearier of thy chaplet than the And never know how fervently thy heart

slave Panted for its repose ?

May be with daily toil, thy hand would cast

The laurel by with loathing, but the pride Oh! let the peace

Of woman's heart withheld thee! of this sweet hour be hers; let her gaze forth

Oh! how praise Now on the face of Nature for the last, Falls on the sorrowing mind, how cold While the bright sunbeam trembles in the the voice air

Of Flattery, when the spirit is bowed down Orthe meek coming twilight, it will soothe Before its mockery, and the heart is sick ; Her spirit as a speil, and waken up Praise for the gift of genius, for the grace Impassioned thoughts, and kindle burning of outward form, when the soul pines to dreams,

hear And call back glorious visions.

One kindly tone and true !

are filled

What bitter jest Had melted in thin air, and laying down It maketh of the enthusiast, to whom Her head upon her pillow, sought her rest, One star alone can shine, one voice be And thought to meet him in the land of heard

dreams!” In tones of blessedness, to know that crowds

We abandon the design with which Of Earth's light-hearted ones—are trea we began-that of a descriptive critical suring up,

sketch of the poetical character and Against the day of sorrow, the deep words genius of the bright young creature of Of wretchedness and misery which burst whom we have so sweet a record and From an o’erburdened spirit, and that monument in this volume. The task

minds Which may not rise to Heaven on the is far more pleasing-its results will be

far more pleasing to our readers to wings Of an inspired fancy, yet can list

give them rather the opportunity of With raptured ear, to the ethereal dreams forming such judgment for themselves, Of a high soaring genius.

by the selection of some further ex

tracts, which may be taken as fair

For this end specimens of her powers and style. Did'st thou seek Fame, Estelle ;-and hast What she was already, all can read thou breathed

and see—wha she would probably The atmosphere of poetry, till life have become, had she lived to a greater With its dull toilgrew wearisome and lone? maturity of life and thought, we can

only imagine from the high promise of

her early performance. We select the Her brow grew quickly pale—and mur

following three poems for the purpose,

and only regret that our necessary remured words That not in life dwelt on that gentle lip,

striction of space curtails within these Are spoken in the recklessness of death; limits so many quotations we should They tell of early dreams of cherished have taken an equal pleasure in makhopes

That faded into bitterness, ere Fame
Became the spirit's idol, of lost tones

Of music, and of well remembered words
That thrill the spirit yet.

Thou quiet moon, above the hill-tops

shining, Again it comes How do I revel in thy glances bright, That half reproachful voice that she hath How does my heart, cured of its vain respent

pining, Her life at Passion's shrine, and patient Take note of those who wait and watch there

thy lightHath sacrificed, and offered incense to The student o'er his lonely volume bendAn absent idol—that she might not see

ing, Even in death-and then again the strength The pale enthusiast, joying in thy ray, Of a high soul sustains her, and she joys, And ever and anon, his dim houghts Yea, triumphs in her fame, that he may sending hear

Up to the regions of eternal day! Her name with honor, when the dark shades fall

Nor these alone—the pure and radiant Around her, and she sleeps in still repose;

eyes If some faint tone should reach him at the Of Youth and Hope look up to thee last

with love, Of her devotedness, he will not spurn Would it were thine-meek dweller of the The memory from him, but his soul may skies, thrill

To save from tears! but no! too far To think of her, the fervent-hearted girl,

above Who turned from flattering tones, and idly. This dim cold carth thou shinest, richly cast,

flinging The treasures of her spirit on the winds Thy soft light down on all who watch And found no answering voice!

thy beam,

And to the heart of Sorrow gently bring. Then prayed for death,

ing Since Life's sweet spells had vanished, and The glories pictured in Life's morning her hopes




As a loved presence back; oh! shine to Reproach! reproach! My dreams are

strange and wild, As to the voyagers on the faithless sea ! Mother ! had'st thou no pity on thy child ?

Lo! celestial smile seems softly Joy's beacon light! I know that trembling beaming Care

On the hushed lips—my mother, can'st Warned by thy coming hies him to re thou brook, pose,

Longer upon thy victim's face to look ? And on his pillow laid, serenely there Forgets his calling; that at Day's dull Alas! at yestermorn close

My heart was light, and to the viol's Meek Age and rosy Childhood sink to sound rest,

I gaily danced, while crowned with sumAnd Passion lays her fever dreams mer Rowers, aside,

And swiftly by me sped the flying hours, And the unquiet thought in every breast And all was joy around ;

Loses its selfish fervor and its pride, Not death! Oh! mother could I say thee With thoughts of thee—the while their vigil keeping,

Take from thy daughter's hand thy boon The quiet stars hold watch o'er beauty

away! sleeping!

Take it;-my heart is sad, But unto me, thou still and solemn light, And the pure forehead hath an icy What may'st thou bring ? high hope, un

chillwavering trust

I dare not touch it, for avenging Heaven In Him, who for the watches of the night Hath shuddering visions to my fancy Ordained thy coming, and on things of given, dust

And the pale face appals me, cold and Hath pour'd a gift of power-on wings to still, rise

With the closed lips, oh! tell me, could I From the low earth and its surrounding know gloom

That the pale features of the dead were To higher spheres, till as the shaded skies

Are lighted by thy glories, gentle Moon, So are Life's lonely hours and dark des

I may not turn away pair

From the charmed brow, and I have Cheered by the star of faith, the torch of heard his name prayer.

Even as a prophet by his people spoken,
And that high brow in death bears seal

and token,

Of one whose words were flame;THE DAUGHTER OF IERODIAS,

Oh! Holy Teacher! could'st thou rise

and live, Written after seeing among a collection of beauti.

Would not these hushed lips whisper, “I ful paintings, copies from the old masters, recent.

forgive!” ly sent to New York from Italy, one representing the daughter of Herodias, bearing the head of John the Baptist on a charger, and wearing upon Away with lute and harp, her countenance an expression, not of triumph

With the glad heart for ever, and the as one might suppose, but rather of soft and sorrowful remorse, as she looks upon the calm and

dance, beautiful features of her victim.

Never again shall tabret sound for me.

Oh! fearful Mother, I have brought to MOTHER! I bring thy gift,

thee Take from my hand the dreaded boon, The silent dead, with his rebuking

glance, Take it, the still pale sorrow of the face And the crushed heart of one, to whom Hath left upon my soul its living trace,

are given Never to pass away ;

Wild dreams of judgment and offended Since from these lips one word of idle Heaven!

breath Blanched that calm face-oh! mother, this is death!


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I pray

What is it that I see
From all the pure and settled features


SAY, have I left thee, wild but gentle lyre,

That on the willow thou hast hung

so long?


Oh! do not still my unbidden thoughts This fleeting world, and wandered far aspire

and wide
From my heart's fount? flows not the Astray,—and worshipped still, forgetting
gush of song,

Though heavily upon the spirit's wing The one bright star of its idolatry.
Lies earthly care-a dull corroding thing?

Nor be these thoughts in vain
Must it be ever so

To aid me in this rude world's ruder
That in the shadow and the gloom, strife,
my path

When a high soul doth struggle with its Is destined ?—shall the high heart always

chain bow ?

And turn away in bitterness from Father, may it not pass, this cup of life,wrath

Strengthen me, guide me, till in realms Shall not at last the kindled flame burn

above free

I taste the uncontrolled waters of thy love. On my soul's altar-consecrate to thee ?

Mr. Keese has admirably performed Say, in my bosom's urn

his task of editor. The memoir is in Shall feelings glow, for ever unex- itself a beautiful production, and evinpressed,

ces a fine appreciation both of the loveAnd lonely, fervent thoughts unheeded liness of the character of its subject, burn,

and of the high poetic merits of her And Passion linger on, a hidden productions. We understand that the guest

contents of the present volume form Hath the warm sky no token for my heart, but a portion of the materials, of simiIn my green early years shall Hope depart? lar value and interest, remaining in the

possession of her friends. We sincerePeace at this quiet hour And holy thoughts be given. Let me be given by the public taste to the pre

ly hope that such encouragement will From Life's dim air and shadowy skies

sent volume, which


be regarded that lower

as an experiment in its favor, as to call Around me, and with thrilling heart forth the early appearance of another. adore

We would gladly add, to what we have Thy mercy, Father! who can’st soothe the said, the beautiful tribute which Whitwild,

tier's muse has cast, as a poet's offerForgetful murmurings of thine erring child. ing of flowers on a sister poet's grave;

but are forbidden by its length. The Aye, by the bitter dreams, reader may find it appended to the meThe fervor wasted ere my spirit's moir. The following brief offering by prime,

H. T. Tuckerman, with which we The few brief sunny gleams

conclude, is not unworthy of a place Ripening the heart's wild flowers, here, as well as there:

that ere their time Blew brightly and were crushed,—by all “ AND thou art gone! sweet daughter of the tears

the lyre, That quenched the fiery thoughts of early Whose strains we hoped to hear thee years, –

waken long;

Gone—as the stars in morning's light exYes! by each phantom shade that Memory

pire, brings,

Gone like the rapture of a passing song; Voices whose tone my heart remem- Gone from a circle who thy gifts have

cherished, Names that no more shall thrill—departed With genial fondness and devoted care, things

Whose dearest hopes with thee have sadly That I would fain forget

perished, By the past weakness and the coming trust, And now can find no solace but in prayer; Father! I lay my forehead in the dust.

Prayer to be like thee, in so meekly bearing

Both joy and sorrow from thy Maker's Meekly adoring-yielding up my care

hand; To Thee, who through the stormy past Prayer to put on the white robes thou art hath tried

wearing, A wayward mind, which else had deemed And join thy anthein in the better land.”

too fair

bers yet,


PATIENCE—patience a brief year and they make themselves all things to all a half more, and a Democratic con men ? Why did they select candidates, gress will re-assemble, and the dis- from one of whom they allowed no graceful spectacle of the Whig rule, distinct expressions to be elicited of the which has so often and deeply suf- leading principles of policy which fused the cheeks of both friend and foe, should govern his administration--and will be at an end! They cannot now the other of whom was identified, by continue together more than a few whatever political character he posweeks; three months, at their remain- sessed, with all that was antagonistic ing session, will be the limit of their to the real designs of the great majorlast opportunity of making themselves ity of their own leaders and party? ridiculous; and they will then share Why were they guilty of the shameful the fate of their own log cabins, treachery to their only proper and nacider barrels, and raccoon skins, which tural leader as a party, poor Claythe people, where they have not for fine, bold, and manly fellow that he gotten, remember only with a blush of was-ofabandoning him for men whose mingled regret and shame.

“availability” consisted only in nonPatience, then-patience !-we say, committalism and dissimulation? Why for yet a brief year and a half longer, did they, in the face of all the manifest and all will then be well again. At truths of the great laws of trade and the farthest, 1844 will speedily come political economy, assume the responround,—and by that time we shall sibility of promising to the people conhave recovered all the three branches sequences to follow a change of govof the Federal Government, the Execu- ernment, the absurdity and impossibiltive and Senate, as well as the House ity of which all the better informed of Representatives. Nor will there intelligence of their own party must then be any great danger of the good have known perfectly well ? This people of these United States allowing system of electioneering—in connection themselves to be a second time entrap- with other modes of popular influence ped by so gross an imposture as that of no more honorable than this—brought which they are now tasting the bitter them into power; and how could they and nauseous fruits. Their hokkano expect, what right had they to expect, baro, their “grand humbug”—to quote to be able to govern the country on any an appropriate expression from the dia- thing like a distinct and harmonious lect of the Gpysy race—has played its system of administration, through any part and effected its object, and is not set of men, representing the different sikely ever to be available again—at elements of such a heterogeneous, disleast within the memory of the genera- cordant and chaotic rabble of a party? tion which has had one experience of it. One of the senseless imputations in

It is vain for them to talk of a want which our opponents are wont to inof harmony between their President dulge against us, is what they term our and their party; and to ascribe to that spirit of party discipline and union, cause all the miserable and imbecile keeping is together in a more comstumbling and staggering along of their pact and steady organization, party, in its possession of power pur- which they mean to ascribe a certain chased at the cost of so sad a wear and slavish want of independence of tear of whatever political conscience it thought and action. And this we someever possessed. That state of things times hear them contrast with the oppois manifestly itself but the effect of an- site character claimed as a subject of other and a deeper cause, going back pride on their side, to which they attrito the foundation of their organization bute the general ascendency maintained as a party. Why did they have re- by us, notwithstanding occasional temcourse to so disgraceful a system of porary exceptions, in the politics of the electioneering tactics as that by which country. The existence of a difference alone they got into power? Why did between the two parties in this respect

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