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With facos darkly veiled, and dew-dropped
hair, And diamond sandals on their gliding feet.
Though she is perhaps too much influenced by party spirit, yet in treating subjects connected with the religion of the Roman Catholic church, she does not strike at doctrinal errors so much as at those points in which that church has erred against the liberty of humanity, and the truth of the domestic life. This is well conceived and poetically expressed :
My fancy follows to the cell,
We take our leave of Mr. De Rupe with some regret. If he will permit us to advise him, he should strengthen the powers of his mind by reading
reading and reflection, and he will neither lose his ability in natural description, nor fail when he attempts to express the inward workings of his own mind. Still further, we hope that he will pay more attention to the rules of his art, and not disappoint his well pleased readers by inaccuracies which we cannot but feel he might have easily remedied.
“Poems of Ten Years,"* by Mrs. D. Ogilvy, are chiefly continental. They are full of much earnest and original thinking, and have sprung from a well read and reflective mind. A foreign air which pervades most of these poems, and which is not often enough vocalised by human interest, prevents us from fully sympathising with her as we read. It is a matter of regret that Mrs. Ogilvy has not lived more at home, or at least made her poetry more national. We should like to have seen the bosom of Loch Lomond reflected in her pages. We should like to have scaled the side of Ben Cruachan with her, and felt the norland breeze blow cold and clear, as westood knee-deep in Highland heath, and watched the deer sweeping through the glens, and the sheep upon the shoulders of a hundred hills.
Mrs. Ogilvy's poems are not mere description; she does not only poeticise the impressions she has received from nature, but gives us the varied thoughts which those impressions have imbedded in her mind. She possesses that peculiar faculty above all characteristic of the poet, which loses sight of the objects which suggested the thoughts, and is absorbed in the train of reflection which has been suggested. In this class of poetry, the great beauty lies in the reader being able to conceive through the thoughts the objects which gave rise to the subjective ideas of the poet. This is particularly the case in à poem called " Strasburg."
I see a woman on the road,
There is great truth and thought in her descriptions, and these descriptions are generally linked to some fact in the history of life and mind which gives them a twofold interest, and at times they place us at once in the higher realms of speculative imaginations. We quote a few scattered passages :
The wild drean regions lift their countenance On the relaxed and sleep-quiescent limb.
Speaking of Rome,
How different from that blue-eyed shrew,
And if she weep, it is a storm,
* Poems of Ten Years, by Mrs. D. Ogilvy. London: Bosworth, 215, Regent-street. Edinburgh : John Menzies. 1856.
Looking from Strasburg spire, of the same class, and will well repay The mountain summits slid adown the sky.
the reader. “Sultan Ibrahim," which
closes Mrs. Ogilvy's book, is full of And of the true simple women who poetic and reflective thought, and is “held in gage” the wills and hearts true to nature and humanity. It is of the wild lords and captains of interesting to observe the developSforza's and Piccinino's time,
ment of Mrs. Ogilvy's poetic mind
through these ten years. The unAs boulders in St. Gothard's pass, tutored thought and the want of Along the rapid Reuss,
condensation which mark some of her Rise mossily from out the snows, earlier efforts, are replaced by an Round, isolate, and loose,
easy flow and power of reflection in And yet are clasped into their place
the later poems, without, we regret By a lichen's crimson noose.
to say, so much imagination. So it is Our last quotation must illustrate
in life; we never can gain the expeMrs. Ogilvy's associative faculty. In
rience of manhood without losing the the dusty suburbs of London she
innocence of the child; we never can meets a flock of sheep :
attain to an intellectual excellence
without partially at least forfeiting Me a sudden turn surpriseth
the freshness of early thought. The With a flock of ewes and rams,
dew of youth's morning is evaporated Whence a plaintive bleating riseth
by the noon of manhood, and too From their over-driven lambs. often descends in the pitiless rain of
an evening of grief. Then I shut mine eyes and follow,
We ceased from our pleasant emFollow in that bleating wake,
ploy. The evening had fallen grey And at once the breezy hollow
and cold, but as we glanced out of And the mountains on me break.
our window, the moon was sailing in With the hidden streamlet springing
the purple sky. A white halo ringed Down among the alders low,
her, like the glory round the head of With the very same lark singing,
a saint, as chaste and cold she moved Which we heard there long ago ;
slowly through the attendant stars.
The square panes held her light with And the rocky sheepwalks sweeping
joy, and shed it lovingly on the floor, Round the curving waterfall,
tesselating it with beauty. The fire And the heart within me leaping, burnt cheerily; and extinguishing our Leaping faster than it all!
candle, we lay back in our chair to
meditate. On the walls, the old book And the heather moor extending
cases, and the white press, the blaze Miles around us as we paused,
moved now mirthfully, now sadly, And thine eyes upon me bending, And the blush that gazing caused.
bringing back old thoughts of friends
whose figures still held the vacant All these memories-sweet, anbidden
chairs, and who would sit there ever Through my tingling senses run,
in the mournful light of memory. Till I nearly am o'er-ridden
The moonlight and firelight mixed By the butcher's blue-frocked son. friendlily among the books that lay
upon the table, and dwelt with a If these lines had ended here, they peculiar sweetness on Tennyson and would have been more rounded; but Wordsworth. A fit of flame leaped the addition of three stanzas and a up, and lit up the guileless face of simile spoils, if we may be allowed to Jenny Lind, the Queen of Song, and, say so, the unity and beauty of the glancing on, seemed to leap down the poem. The stanzas entitled “Dream- open jaws of the tiger's head that ers"--"Charon" -“Phantoms" - are hung above the door.
AUTUMN was now rapidly coming on, and the green and engrailed oakleaves which had merrily glistened and waved amidst the wood-walks of the Darragh were in the process of transmutation, and were fast becoming gold under the Midas touch of nature's alchemy. The hay was in the haggard, stacked and saved: the great turf-rick had been skilfully and suecessfully piled : the corn-stooks were in the farm-yard or the barn, and the stubble in the field ; and most of the country work was at an end.
Unconsciously the days shortened, and the long nights deepened in, and then it was that some of the old agrarian agitation began to revive : the people once more seemed restless and unhappy, and disturbed from their placidity and wonted lighthearted ness, and shewed on the surface of their behaviour something like the ground-swell of the sea which so often precedes and heralds in a storm : and though the season had been most prosperous, the crops plenteous, and comparatively little distress in the neighbourhood, yet the police were now incessantly employed in tracing out and apprehending offenders; and the cases at the petty sessions, where Mr. Montfort and my uncle were the sitting magistrates, were numerous; and some of them also of a very flagrant description. These misdeeds did not always appear to take their rise either from personal or religious causes; there was some deeper agency at work, whose influence seemed irresistibly to goad the people on, even though it were against their will and better feeling.
singular story was told is one day at dinner by M'Clintock, wbo himself had been an eye-witness to what he now narrated. He was far amidst the hills that morning, laying out grass farms, and was standing at the door of rather a substantial dwel. ling-house, which was built over a sloping bank on a wild and solitary mountain road, when rushing down a hill on the opposite side of the gorge, he discovered two figures with straining garments: a river ran through the valley, which they crossed up to their knees, and continuing their race, which appeared straight as a bird could fly, they toiled pantingly up the grassy bank on which M'Clintock was standing, and rushing past him all breathless, they delivered into the hands of the master of the house, Andrew M‘Kenna, and his son a lad of twenty, a paper, and a number of straws-these latter were hollow, and each having a joint or knot, while on the former was written in a bold round schoolmaster's hand, “ Rur, Run, Run.-Deliver at next house-Bear the straws to the North.” The men who carried this mystic document were mountain peasants; and on M'Clintock's enquiring from them what they were about, and who had sent them, they affected not to understand his English : at all events before they were two minutes in the house M'Kenna and his son had taken the scroll and the symbols with the deepest reverence, and had started up the mountain which rose behind their house, intending, as they said, to leave the straws for further conveyance at a herd of my uncle's, who
inhabited a lone shealing on a sheepwalk just over the shoulder of the hill. "And now," said Mrs. M'Kenna, “if every one runs as fast as my two Andies, the sign will be at Blacksod Bay before the sun goes out of the heavens." These words seeming to argue some complicity on her part with the business, M°Clintock questioned herstraitly, but she assured him she “knew nothing of the sign more than it was a sign-nor what the straws meant-nor the writing---nor who had sent them;"* and M'Clintock knew her to be a woman whose word could be relied on. We all professed ourselves totally unable to fathom this mystery, more than surmising that it must have been a dusky development of the agency of some secret society. This was the opinion of Mr. M'Clintock, who understood the place and the people well; he adjudged it to be an experiment to test the willingness and the energy of the peasantry, and by all accounts it proved eminently successful as far as it went.
These things tried my uncle much; he was so anxious to ameliorate his people--to see them rise in the moral scale, and become like himself, honest, straightforward, and independentso that all this secret and underhandwork, which his nature detested, accompanied by such frequent breaches of law and order coming continually under his notice as a magistrate, and enforcing on him the necessity of punishment to the transgressors--disspirited him, and saddened the noble and generous nature which it could not embitter. And as if he had not enough of solicitude to weigh upon his mind, another desagrément arose in the development of a new feature in his nephew Gilbert's character.
And this feature was pride.
Of this the cool sagacity of Montfort had warned me before, but I do not think he felt himself at liberty to speak of it to my uncle. Kildoon himself, however, did not leave him long in ignorance on the subject, for about this time he made after much preliminary fencing, and what Morton called “attitudinizing"--a formal petition to the General, that he would
permit and sanction his change of name from Kildoon to Nugent, as well as assist him with the means to enable him to meet the official costs which might attend this act of cognominal neo-baptism.
His father's name brought with it a bad odour, as the appellation of a man whose evil deeds were still angrily remembered by many whom he had injured, oppressed and robbed. And so, during some of the long previous absences of General Nugent from the Darragh, and when the judges arrived on their circuit at the county town and the grand jury panel was being struck, there was no one found to represent the Dar, ragh property, and its clear unincumbered £5,000 a-year, because, though the owner's nephew was a respectable man, and was living on the property, still he was Mr. Kildoon, and the sheriff, who was an aristocrat, and one of the many who had been plundered by Gilbert's father, would not be in duced to place his son among the acknowledged gentry on the grand jury panel of the county of M
Gilbert also greatly coveted the commission of the peace; but in like manner the Lord-Lieutenant of the county, who was a jolly and outspoken old nobleman, said that he “should be slow to recommend for a seat on the bench a man whose father should have been in the dock a hundred times, if chicanery and dishonesty had their due reward.”
Thus balked at all sides in his schemes of ambition, and hoping everything from my uncle's kindness of character and generosity, he determined on making this effort to get rid of a name which brought with it so many associations of dishonour, and to assume another, which, from the General's frank and deserved popi:larity in the county, was in the inverse ratio of excellency-en bon odeur with all the men in our neighbourhood,
But if Kildoon supposed that his uncle's kindness would at once accede to his wishes, he forgot the old man's great dignity and sense of right, which would not suffer him to countenance
* Some of our readers may remember & circumstance precisely as here stated, which took place about the year 1830 over the whole extent of a remote county in Ireland, and during the space of a single day.
sucha proceeding: the General seemed the other, for my uncle was much surprised and hurt at his request, and “given to hospitality ;” and his preat once extinguished it by a decided serves and salmon stream, as well as refusal.
the charms of himself and his very “I have done much for you, ne- agreeable house brought many visitors. phew Gilbert,” he said. “I am sorry Many of these were county squires, you have compelled me to say so men who had not much education, to you or any other man, but this but could ride well to the hounds in I cannot, will not do ; your name is a the morning, and drink more wine good one in itself, and, I have heard, than they ought in the evening, but an old one in this country: it has been this my uncle never permitted at dishonoured by him who is now gone “ The Darragh.” Men with a long to his account, let it be your aim to Irish ancestry, and a broad Irish acpurify it from the association of past cent; some of them spending three evil, and by a continued course of in thousand a year out of a rent-roll of tegrity, honour and truthfulness in all one-third the amount; a few more your relations of life, redeem its re careful ; most of them, like Jacques' spectability; so that men will be com soldier, pelled to couple it with all that is excellent and praiseworthy; and you, " Jealous of honour, sudden and quick in who bear it, will be a much happier quarrel,” man, and will fill a much higher position in the respect of your neighbours, and all of them good humoured and and the approval of your own con kindly spoken fellows, and disposed science, than if you were at the head to suit their habits to those of our free of our grand-jury roll, and magistrate and cheerful, but regular and somefor every county in Ireland.”
what drilled house, during their stay · The old General spoke this with with us. much firmness, but gentleness, and One or two of this class were supeshaking Gilbert by the hand, he said, rior men, and most companionable“ Nephew, dismiss from your head such as Denis Molony-of an ancient these dreams, which, if realized, would stock, pure Celtic, and of an easy forbring you no accession of happiness; tune, a thorough gentleman and a and now order my poney, as you go scholar; one who spoke the Irish landown stairs, and we will take a ride guage perfectly, and knew its records ; together, and see how the labourers an antiquarian, a good musician, a are getting on with the great oak-bark resident and useful landlord, and a rick they are building in the wood.” religious man ; to him my uncle was
My sister witnessed this scene, much attached, and occasionally viand when it was over, the General sited him at his own house, and I may seemed to wish to forget it, and all say, thank God for Ireland such men its etcætera for ever afterwards. Gil are not rare in the Wild West now. bert passed from the apartment withW e had a good deal of company also pale checks and purpled ears and eyes from England--the Trellystons from that sought the ground. In the hall Devonshire—he a tall, full, heavyhe encountered Montfort and myself, headed man, always decorous, and both of us cognizant of what he had always dull; the wife, an aristocrat been about, inasmuch as he had made by birth, and a sufferer from constino secret of his intentions; and both tution, for alas the Pool of Plantaof us pretty certain of the result from g enet is often like the Pool of Bethesda, his downcast and unhappy air. I and length of pedigree does not include confess I pitied him, and even Mont- length of days. The young Trellystons fort looked out of the window, and were heavy dragoons, and both quarwhistled as was his wont, withholding, tered in Ireland, or rather on the soil, until my cousin was long out of hear being large bodied youths; they fraing, the scornful laugh which he was ternized much with Montfort, having too apt to indulge in at Gilbert's ex- a fellow feeling about cheroots, and a pense; and in a day or two the whole tender sympathy on tobacco pipes, business appeared to be as if it never but to me they were still just “heavy had been.
-exceedingly—“ dragoons," and noAutumn passed pleasantly enough, thing more. Their sisters were tall, and we had relays of visitors one after fair, well dressed young ladies, with