conscientious care in choosing her language and forming her verse, could not, even if it were desirable, prevent the formation of a certain style. It is obvious, also, that her efforts are unequal. The gems, however, are more profusely scattered, than through the same amount of writing by almost any other modern poet. The department of her muse was a high and sacred one. The path she pursued was one especially heroic, inasmuch as her efforts imply the exertion of great enthusiasm. Such lyrics as we love in her pages, are "fresh from the fount of feeling." They have stirred the blood of thousands. They have kindled innumerable hearts on both sides of the sea. They have strewn imperishable flowers around the homes and graves of two nations. They lift the thoughts, like an organ's peal, to a "better land," and quicken the purest sympathies of the soul into a truer life and more poetic beauty. The taste of Mrs. Hemans was singularly elegant. She delighted in the gorgeous and imposing. There is a remarkable fondness for splendid combination, warlike pomp, and knightly pageantry betrayed in her writings. Her fancy seems bathed in a Southern atmosphere. We trace her Italian descent in the very flow and imagery of her verse. There is far less of Saxon boldness of design and simplicity of outline, than of the rich colouring and luxuriant grouping of a warmer clime. Akin to this trait was her passion for Art. She used to say that Music was part of her life. In fact, the mind of the poetess was essentially romantic. Her muse was not so easily awakened by the sight of a beautiful object, as by the records of noble adventure. Her interest was chiefly excited by the brave and touching in human experience. Nature attracted her rather from its associations with God and humanity, than on account of its abstract and absolute qualities. This forms the great distinction between her poetry and that of Wordsworth. In the midst of the fine scenery of Wales, her infant faculties unfolded. There began her acquaintance with life and books. We are told of her great facility in acquiring languages, her relish of Shakspere at the age of six, and her extraordinary memory. It is not difficult to understand how her ardent feelings and rich imagination developed, with peculiar individuality, under such circumstances. Knightly legends, tales of martial enterprise-the poetry of courage and devotion, fascinated her from the first. But when her deeper feelings were called into play, and the latent sensibilities of her nature sprung to conscious action, much of this native romance was transferred to the scenes of real life, and the struggles of the heart. We The earlier and most elaborate of her poems are, in a great measure, experimental. It seems as if a casual fancy for the poetic art gradually matured into a devoted love. Mrs. Hemens drew her power less from perception than sympathy. Enthusiasm, rather than graphic talent, is displayed in her verse. We shall look in vain for any remarkable pictures of the outward world. Her great aim was not so much to describe as to move. discover few scenes drawn by her pen, which strike us as wonderfully true to physical fact. She does not make us see so much as feel. Compared with most great poets, she saw but little of the world. The greater part of her life was passed in retirement. Her knowledge of distant lands was derived from books. Hence she makes little pretension to the poetry of observation. Sketches copied directly from the visible universe are rarely encountered in her works. For such portraiture her mind was not remarkably adapted. There was another process far more congenial to her-the personation of feeling. She loved to sing of inciting events, to contemplate her race in an heroic attitude, to explore the depths of the soul, and amid the shadows of despair and the tumult of passion, point out some element of love or faith unquenched by the storm. Her strength lay in earnestness of soul. Her best verses glow with emotion. When once truly interested in a subject, she cast over it such an air of feeling that our sympathies are won at once. We cannot but catch the same vivid impression; and if we draw from her pages no great number of definite images, we cannot but imbibe what is more valuable-the warmth and the life of pure, lofty, and earnest emotion. TENNYSON. THE impression often given by Tennyson is similar to that derived from the old painters. There is a voluptuous glow in his colouring, warm and rich as that of Titian, yet often subdued by the distinct outline and chastened tone of the Roman school; while the effect of the whole is elevated by the pure expressiveness of Raphael. This is especially observable in all his love-sketches. Indeed we are inclined to believe that Tennyson is a poet chiefly through his sentiment. Not a grace of female character, not a trait of womanly attraction is lost upon him; and yet it is not a Flemish exactitude that charms us in his portraiture; on the contrary, what we recognize most cordially is his vagueness. He does not give the detail of character or person, nor elaborately depict a love-scene, nor minutely analyze a sentiment; but rather affords a few expressive hints that, like pebbles thrown into a calm stream, create ever-widening circles of association. If such an idea may be allowed, Tennyson deals rather in atmospheres than outlines. The effect of his best descriptive touches is owing chiefly to the collateral sentiment in the light of which they are drawn. In the "Miller's Daughter," for instance: "The meal-sack on the whitened floor, Made misty with the floating meal ;" is very Crabbe-like, but in the poem it is doubly picturesque because so naturally inspired by the memory of love. To use one of his own happy expressions, Tennyson is a "summer-pilot" to those who can heartily abandon themselves to his guidance. He gives, it may be, but glimpses of Nature, but they are such as to an imaginative mind, supersede and far surpass the tedious limning of less gifted poets. It has been remarked by a celebrated writer, that "the poet and artist has two things to do; to lift himself above the real, and to keep within the circle of the sensuous." In some of Tennyson's poems this law is exquisitely observed and illustrated. A series of physical descriptions constantly make us sensible of the actual world, while inwrought with this, the feeling of the piece, whether love, sorrow, or remorse, is kept vividly before us in all its abstract significance. As an instance, take "Mariana." We may notice, by the way, that this is a beautiful example of a true poet's suggestiveness. In "Measure for Measure " we have but a glance at this " poor gentlewoman." Tennyson introduces us to the "moated grange," so that we see her in all her desolation. "The rusted nails that fell from the knots that held the peach to the garden wall "the moss crusted on the flower-pots-the poplar that "shook alway," and even the "blue fly that sung in the pane," are images full of graphic meaning, and give us the lonely sensation that belongs to the deserted mansion; and when, at the close of each stanza, the melancholy words of Mariana, bewailing her abandonment, fall on the ear with their sad cadence, we take in as completely the whole scene and sentiment as if identified with it. He is not, however, invariably as well sustained in his efforts; in fact, while we do justice to Tennyson's peculiar excellencies, we cannot but admit that when half developed or pushed to extremes, they become defects; and this ac |