The Express.
London, England, 1851-06-14 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

Horan 11 u! Cortesmtidftwe rith 3lason. Edited by
the Hey. J. surreal). Bender.
Some weeks ago, when that pretentious futility,l
the book called "Memoirs of Horace Walpole," was'
published, we took the opportunity of making some ,
remarks on that celebrated writer's character. Here
we have, howeve: a new series of his letters: he has!
once more " entered an appearance" before posterity.
This is, however, positively the last batch of his cor-
respondence. It is worth while to notice how care-
fully Horace provided for his literary reputation—
how admirably he economised his chances of it ! Ile
left his productions to ho given forth at intervals-0o
that he might explode time after time like a
literary cracker. And this was the man who
was so indifferent to literary fame ! Wo need
warmly say tLat what wo read of his saw
letters confirms all that we had thought and
expressed of him before. There is a terrible same-
aces about them. There is the same sense, satire,!
and affectation, mixed together with the same clever-
ness. expressed in the same way. And by the time
he corresponded with Mason he had got hardened
into a regular letter-writer for effect. Well might
Thackcray remark of him, as he did the other day
in his lecture on Steele, that he seems in his epistles
to have an evey always on what posterity would,
think of them. The man " made up" for posthumous!
fame: he was as like as possible to Pope's dying
lady, who made her servant paint her a little,- that
she might not look ugly when she was dead.
The lice. Mr. Mitford, the editor of these volumes.
is an accomplished man' though his "Life of Gray,"
is but a tame affair. He apologises for the paucity
of his annotations, and indeed we think he ought to
do so. We should have liked more from a man so
well acquainted with the period. Though to be sure
we do not agree with him in thinking what new
matter these letters do give, of very touch import-
ance. We learn, for instance, that in Walpole's
quarrel with Gray, \Valpole wasp retty clearly in the
wrung. We never doubted it! IVe learn some new
particulars touching the composition of the " Heroic
Epistle." Now, consist ring what little deep inquiry
has been devoted to the Wordsworth.; and SheEleys,
we cannot think literature at all in need of much de-
votion to a production like that ! But this brings as
to the liev.William Mason, Walpole's correspondent,
the biographer of Gray, the author of "Eltrida," the
whig parson and whit; satirist.
Readers of Boswell, or of memoirs of the last cen-
tury generally, are quite familiar with this well-
known writer, Gray's friend and imitator, who
passed fur a poet in those days. Ile was born in
1725, went to college, and went into orders, pub-
lished various odes and two classical dramas, and
was distinguished likewise as a liberal. Walpole's
correspondence with him begins in the end of 1763;
in the first letter. Walpole acknowledges the receipt
of his works with the most courteous dignity. If
any reader is curious to know how literary taste
varies, let him open, for example, Mason's "Elfrida,"
and judge fur himself what would be thought of
such a work now-a-days. It is rigidly founded on
the classical model. -Its plot is from the Saxon
story of Edgar, King of England, and Elfrida,
daughter of Orrtar, Earl of Devonshire. The
king sends his minister, Athelwold, to report to
him concerning Elfiida's beauty. Athelwold levee
her himself—marries her. The catastrophe condole
of his death by the king's hand, and Elfrida'a devo-
tion of herself to seclusion for life. Thom ie a
‘‘ Chorus of British Virgins," and here is a spesimes
of the way the British virgins talk:
The eye that will nut weep another's farrow,
Should boast no gur .ler brightness than the glare
That reddens in the eye-ball of the wolf.
Turgid enough! The characters all talk like this;
and everybody talks in the same way—in the same
tone of sentiment and imagery. Take the following
as natural human pathos. Athelwold is happy :
best Elfrida! Heavens, it cannot last;
The giddy height of joy to which I'm lifted
In ns a hanging reek, at whose low foot
The Mark and beating surge of infamy
Roll, ready to receive and sink my soul.
Now-n-days we call this kind of thing rant; it is
forced and unnatural. Of the play generally, indeed,
it is sufficient to say that, written by an Englishman,
it gives no evidence that Shakspeare lived before
him. It is a cold imitation of the classical drama.
and as melancholy as an artificial ruin.
The " Heroic Epistle" made an immense hit in its
time. It was suggested by a foolish pamphlet of Sir
William Chambers 's on gardening, in which he re-
commended the adoption of a (lines(' style of gar-
den arrmigt meat. Mason's literary productions
were, perhaps, as nnnatnral as Chambers s proposal,
but of this he was not conscious. The occasion
was a good one of quizzing Sir William, abusing
Bute, and annoying George 111. It ran through
dozen editions and more Ivry quickly. Here is what
Walpole said of it (May 27, 1773):
I have read it so often that I have got it by heart
There is more wit, ten times more delicacy of irony, u
much poetry, and greater facility, than is the Hearted.
(Pair 75.)
'this is a good deal to say of a satire! Again, let
our readers look fur themselves at the lines in ques-
tion. Perhaps the best notion is the well-known
pleasantry rat' calling Runic
'Then

The fatteit hog of Epicurus' sty.
"lark tomycall, for some of you hare ears,
as addressed to the writers of the day, is smart—
though very much in imitation of Pope. There are
similar,facchie among very dull ordinary lines. But
it is ridiculous to compare this cleverness to Pope's
awful satire, compared with which (as l'rofessor
Wilson says) all other satires are permed
compliments ! Pope's whip is the whip at
▪ fiAipkunc. Now that Mr. Thackeray is
bringing the Queen Anne men into fashion
agaio, we shall have people reading Pope, as well as
talking about him. They will laugh at the notion
of comparing Mason's production to the vigorous,
condeused, witty, fanciful pictures in that matchless'
poem. Why, the obscure wretches imprisoned in
that " dungeon" (us Fielding calls it)—the " Dun-
eine—always seem in the light of that fire of wit and
fancy to shiidder visibly like the shades in Virgil's

Mason's, " Memoirs of Gray" are not very notice-
able for themselves; but one thing makes them so.
Their form suggested to Boswell the furm of his
inimitable book. Mason has the reputation (now
the most valuable left him) of having been a benevo-
lent-minded man. We are ready enough to believe
that it was worthily earned. At the same time, we
don't think that he acted in a good, much less high-
minded way to the bookseller Murray, against whom
he brought proceedings regarding his copyright in
Gray. (hay would not take money for his produc-
tions from the booksellers at all. Mason, in alluding
to this, has the following (Sept. 1771):
I should not wonder if Doiltley claims a right in the
copies of such things as he has already printed . . . If
I prepared an edition of old poems, with ever so link new in
it, such an edition would stop the sale of his.

Cautious, prudent man! He brought out his Gray
in two large quartos in 177.5. Murray, a publisher
of the day (who certainly was helping the public
and Gray's name in what he did), made a step across
the lines of Mason's well-guarded encampment. Ma-
son proceeded against him in Chancery. We
have read the poor publisher's pamphlet on the sub-
bett (1777), which is well written, too, and can't
ut think that he was hardly need. Mason died in
1797, shortly after Walpole. Their familiar commu-
nication was interrupted for some time, from " poli-
tical differences of opinion." Walpole, we believe,
thought Mason too favourable to Pitt. But the poli-
tical opinions of neither of them are of any conse-
quence. Both these " liberals" were shocked at last
at the upshot of the whole " liberalism" of the cen-
tury—the French revolution.
As we said above, Walpole's character before the
world remains much the same as it did before these last
letters were published. The putting people told us
they were important as containing his opinions on
literature. What does it matter that he abuses
Johnson and Goldsmith ? What edification is to be
had out of that ? Take, however, some charac-
teristic touches which show the man :
'Tis an honest vocation to be a aavenger, but I would
not be Solicitor-General.
Horace was exactly the one celebrity of whom no
such assertion could be believed in his time ! He
was so pure, so unaffected! Of course, however, it
iv easy to despise • laborious legal °Moe, if one
has three fat sinecures for doing nothing at all I
Herr, however, is one of these good observations
which show at Once the sense and worth which there

really were in hi, character. lie P3ys of Choier-
field's Letters :

He has reduced the folly and worthlessness of the age to
a system in which nothing but the outside of the body and
the superflees of the mind are considered.
We extract further the following Lon foot of a
mart who had wit—although he attacked Voltaire!
How characteristically Horace tells it. He is writing
to one of the Archbishop of York's clergy :
Thu witty nom made a visit to that old bigot the Arch-
bishop of—ant York, but Paris, some time after his Laming
a thundering mandate against some Frcuch whigs of which
his Urace had certainly not written one word. Ile asked
Piron, " Pore: roue Monseigneur, et sous'
This is capital.

Manual of the Anatomy and J'Aysiology of the Human
Mind. by the Iter. JAMES CAELILE, HAI, Virtue,
and Co.

I For the numbers who delight to go yachting in
the gulph of Gelman metaphysics the narrow stream
'of psychology can offer few attractions. Its shores
Ilk too nearly in the track of every-day navigation
Ito yield materials for those marvellous reports which
travellers safely bring from the phantom coasts of
the transcendental continent : the Entities and Non-
mein, those Authropophagi and Amazons of cloud-
land roam not here. And yet within this channel
flow the only productive waters yet discovered. Since
—as Locke saw—the way to a science of metaphysics'
mu.,t lie through psychology, the course of its stream
has lien again and again surveyed anti its features
carefully transferred to the chart. But where is the
new world which so many gallant barques have
passed out of this track to discover ? Instead
of the promised haven, idealism or scepticism have
received every adventurer whose good fortune it has
not been to be blown back to shore.

" Dive w 4," has ever been the cry, " a path of
transit from this world of outside appearance, where
the senses and intellect mix up their own form; with'
everything, into the world of reality; let us see
things as they are in themselves." To satisfy this
craving has been the aim of every inquirer who has
left a name in philosophy. Descartes thought he
had found a starting point for the journey in con-
sciousness, whence he proceeded a part of the way
by deduction, and halted. Malbraneke and Spinoza
eillowed his directions, and found themselves, the
first in mysticism, and the second a Pantheist. Locke
started from sensation, and, following the path
which he opened, Berkeley became an idealist and
Hanle a sceptic. Greatest of all, came Kant,
worthy of a mot with the Grecian kings of thought.
Haying approved himself as a reasoner by predicting
the discovery of Uranus, which Herschel accom-
plished, he aspired to become the Copernicus of the
moral heavens. Ile found metaphysics wailing like
the repulsed and forsaken Hecuba—nue& maxima
re rum, tot tp.ocr:ii notispo• ir.tenB—noloc fro/ow erul
inops. Of this forlorn matron he would willingly
have made the Queen of the sciences. But after con-
sidering her titles for twelve years, he was compelled
to admit that,however noble her character, she could
maintain no royal pretensions. The mind of man,
he again and again proves, can know nothing but
phenomena, nothing of things in themselves. Its
testimony is good, and not treacherous, as Hume as-
serted; but valid only for the human mind. Scep-
tics and idealists alike, have drawn their weapons
from the armoury of this philosopher, and yet the old
belief of the world is invulnerable. Philosophy having
for three thousand years proved nothing but its
weakness, has, in Hegelianism, gone stark mad.
Only the pen of a Pascal could do justice to this
melancholy exhibition of the glory and wretched.
ness of man. It is through no fault of human reason
that she falls continually into embarrassment. She
is troubled with questions which she cannot answer,
because they rue above her power. In this dilemma
she starts from principles whose employment in every-
day life is as unavoidable as it is safe, and from these
advances to supposed absolute truths. Presently
she is landed in contradictions, which arc all the
more painful, as the most opposite conclusions seem
necessary. She feels that error must be concealed
somewhere, but the touchstone of experience is not
applicable, and she is left to wretchedness and
doubt. Such is the eternal strife of metaphysics.
There is something noble and heroic in the attempt
to renew the struggle after so many repulses ; but
all experiments must have an end. 'The world can-
not remain ever at school. The poles of experience
and revelation are sufficient to bear the strain of
ever-whirling life. The claims of the pure reason to
be considered as an independent genetic source of
Knowledge, exists no more. They fell—nobly and
honourubly—but fell before the great critic of
Konigsberg. Metaphysics exist but historically. We
1 may honour the motives as we must admire the
talents of a Fichte, but we are not to imitate the
example. 'The time is past when
Coxcombs ranque.ll Berkeley with a grin."
The great danger is, that the next generation should
neglect the splendid inheritance of solid knowledge
now accumulating, for the deceitful promises of spe-
cious speculative systems. Already there exists a
large growing class of babbling phittoophes, who
have run over Locke and dipped into Kant, and its
members are of all persons to be avoided.
The Dynamics of the mind, the laws of its func-
tions ad ordinary phenomena, the conditions under
which it becomes healthy, robust, and efficient, form,
on the other hand, a subject which no ono can under-
stand too well. Happily its study is as simple and
easy Os that of metaphysics is confused. Every man
carries within him the sources of this knowledge,
which books can only gather up and present again to
him. To perform this office for persons of reflection
is the object of Dr. Carlile's little volume: He says:
The author of this little work has called it a Manual of
the Anatomy and Physiology of the Mind; of anatomy and
physiology, because it is an attempt to do for the mind what
anatomy and physiology do for the body, namely, to point
out its ration, powers and operations, the place which they
hold in the mental organism, and their connection with ouc
another.

A caviller might contend, that since the word
anatomy, figurative though it be, implies some or-
ganisation of co-existing parts, while the mind is
assumed (except on the plirenological theory, which
the author does not hold) to be simple,
therefore the term is inapplicable. Those who
regard things rather than words, will probably
judge that the popular character of the work justifies
the title. The style of the author is exceedingly.,
perspicuous—the grand desideratum in works of this,
character, and the arrangement of the subject is
equally judicious. He who shall make himself mas-1
ter of this little book will have done much to fulfil
that greatest injunction of ancient wisdom—Know
thyself.
One or two selections, taken from a sensible chap-
ter, on the means of influencing others, may illus-
trate the style of Dr. Carliles useful little work. The
first relates to—

TUll POWER OPINION.
The world, it has been said, is governed by opinion, which
amounts to this, that the conduct of men is regulated by
what they believe to be true. Were it regulated by what
is really true—be the know It dge of the whole of the truth
calculated to influence them in every case, there were an
end at sore of all confusion, and crime, and misery. Then
the world would be wider the guidance of God, not merely
de jure, hut dr facto, for the light of truth is the sceptre of
his kingdom. As it is, the conduct of men is directed by
what they believe to be true, and the cause of all the dis-
order and crime of the world is, that men an ignorant of
the truth that ought to influence them, and have been in-
duced to believe and act upon falsehood as if it were truth.
Hence it is obvious, that the only really effective and per-
I =anent means of Influencing others is oceupying their
mindr with truth, or quasi truth. So far as their minds are
occupied with truth, their conduct will be beneficially in-
financed. The power of the most despotic monarch ou the
earth rests on the opinion of his subjects, that it is their
duty or their interest to obey him. Change that opinion,
and his power crumbles to nothing ; his people resist him,
hi. armies forsake him ; he is shorn of his locks, and has
become weak as other men. The ancient monarchies were
reared up by the power of arms ; but whence did that power
proceed, but from the opinion of their subjects, that they
were bound to obey their sovereigns in fighting under their
mamma ; or, in the opinion of men, that it was honoura-
ble to be soldiers ; that it was glorious and patriotic to sub-
due other nations and to bring them into eubjection to
their own; or that, by obeying their military duets, they
would most readily and certainly obtain the gratification of
their rapacity, their lugs and their PM*.
It required eons men itentutim et *haat mastant war-
fare to bend op 1b llama aspire by the power of the
sword; that is, by the Missies d ilk se 'camel other
people to MEd* is it idyll's etliama. Lida more that
two mamba it die use et the ether wespoi—tiss sow
muniestios of tlotrasow luftit to white it; sad
that not mini as
lidos the idea he
of aid al Messmer limit sere
tot rari ace 'Althea they were to hit; trat
tarlitUY, cobl at Guess,
and mate of , but o its their
wrteltheir Is habits, thole their
iedel q. This pest sad ve

THE EXPRESS, SATURDAY EVENING, JUNE 14, 1851.

!entillnenced in the preaching of an obscure Individual, in
lan obscure province of the empire,—an individual who was
scouted and persecuted by the rulers and the learned men
of his own nation, and crucified under an order of the
Roman governor. Yet that individual, by means of officers
appointed by himself, and acting. strictly according to his
directions, solely by the communication of thought, was, in
little more than two centuries. acknowledged as the Lord
and Muster of the empire ; hi• lass received and obeyed,
and institutions established, and almost universally ob-
' served, in commemoration and honour of him.
After this, the bishop of Rome raised an empire, as de-
spotic as the pagan Roman empire was, solely upon the
power of opinion. The only soldiers employed were ciergy-
i men, secular and regular, and they did the work of soldiers,
even in the exacting of money, dictating lens, bringing
emperors and kings to tha most abject submission to their
leader, more effectively than these purposes had ever been
= accomplished by the old Roman legions.
IThe opinions, or quasi truths, on which the clergy of
Rome founded the despotism of their chief, were, to a great
extent, false. When assaults were made upon them, and
attempts made to change the opinions of the people, they
were conscious that their dogmas could not bear examina-
tion; and being resolved to maintain them, abandoned the
implement by which they had been established in the belief
lof the people, and betook themselves to the weaker imple-
ment of fire and sword to maintain them. They prohibited
all free inquiry, denounced all books containing statements
which they regarded as dangerous to their power, visited
with the heaviest penalties, not only all who wrote such
books, but all who read or possessed them. The Holy
Scriptures were especially proscribed, and most jealously
withheld from the people. Crusades were proclaimed by
the bishop of Rome against obscure tribes, who, in their
seeluPiona among the valleys of the Alps, denied his autho-
rity. An institution of terrible power, and moat unscrupu-
lous practice—seizing, imprisoning in dungeons. torturing,
and subjecting to the most horrible deaths, all who ex-
posed themselves to its fell and jealous suspicion—was
erects]. But all in vain. These severities, as those which
were inflicted by the pagan rulers of the same city, only
excited the more the curiosity of the people to listen to the
proscribed statements, and predisposed them to believe that
they were true. Every execution spread there port of the
tenets hostile to the church of Rome more widely. The
crusades against the Vaudois scattered them all over
Europe, carrying their tenets along with them, till, when
the nations were sufficiently leavened with the persuasion
that the clergy were deceiving them, the reformation openly
broke out, and a death-blow was inflicted on the power of
the Roman bishop, under which he is even now reeling and
staggering.
Unhappily those who embraced the reformed doctrines,
and who, under the influence of them, abjured all subjec-
tion to the bishop of Rome and hip clergy, instead of per-
severing in the use of that implement by which all their
influence had been gained, and on which solely the main-
taining and extending of that influence depoided, as the
Christians of the two first centuries of Christianity had done,
bearing persecution patiently, and when persecuted in one
city, fleeing to another, carrying their light with them, in
an evil hour betook themselves to the same inferior weapon
with their adversaries, and endeavoured to defend and
maintain their tenets by force of anus. The consequence
wax, that wherever the adherents of the church of Rome
greatly pn ponderated, they crushed the Reformation, and
destroped the reformers, or expelled them from their tea ri-
tory. The appeal to arms also being more exciting than
the appeal io truth, diterted the attention of both parties
from the truth, excited violent prejudices against one
another, disqualified both from holding such quiet and
friendly conferences a- were necessary to the diffusion of
truth among them. The result has been, that since the
appeal to arms was made, the progress of the Reformation
has been arrested even in thaw countries where protestanta
possessed the chief power. They have scarcely gained an
inch of ground, while in some places they have lost ground.
They have imitated the church of Rome in making laws
against dogmas, which they wished to eradicate from the
minds of the people. But laws are not au appeal to truth,
but to force ; and. therefore, their tendency is to withdraw
the attention of both parties from the only means by which
they might both come to the knowledge of the truth;
namely, calm, unprejudiced inquiry and discussion.

Canteens, and Newton, give but a faint idea. M.
St. Jean is considered in Franco the rival of Lance in
fruit pieces ; their relative merits ore so fairly
balanced in this case that few would like to
decide between them. Messrs. Lucy, Ward, and
Redgmve sustain the character of the Eng- ,
lish artists. The subject of Quintin Matey's,
by the latter, is full of nice feeling and good
colour. Mr. Leullier exhibits a composition repre-
senting the Christians devoured by wild beasts in the I
Coliseum; probably the squeamish will exclaim
against the subject, though it is spiritedly carried
out. There are 231 works exhibited, pretty well
subdivided between the Dutch, Flemish, and French;
the sprinkling of English works being just sufficient
to give an amicable colouring and look of good
fellowship. The name of Verhocckhoven, of Brus-
sels, is familiar to every one who frequents the auc-
tion-rooms. The same cannot be said of Baron
Wappers, whose works we encounter for the first
time. His " Genevieve of Brabant" approaches
nearer the standard of English colouring than
most which are founded on the same model.
This picture is contributed by Prince Albert.
We found the Dutch supporting their ancient
reputation by the works of Sehelfhont ; but the un-
obtrusive merits of that school are scarcely brought
out by the gas light, be it ever so bright. The pic-
tures are distributed throughout a suite of apart-
ments on the first and second floor, admirably lit up
by gas lamps. We must not omit noticing a faithful
copy of Mr. Delaroche's portrait of Guizot, a passing
fair Italian study in coloured crayon by Mdlle. Nina
Bianchi (20,5) ; and some clever drawings in red '
,chalk which the French call "sanguine," by De
Rudder, who enjoys the same reputation in this
respect which 3lulready does with us.

SIX SONNETS FOR THE GREAT

EXHIBITION.

THE DEVON OP WAR SHALL CEASE TO EE WOK•
SHIPPED, AND THE WEDDED SPIRITS OP COMMERCE
AND PEACE REIGN.
Lo, in this wondrous dome there arc enshrined
Three spirits. Of the Present, and the Punt,
And of the Future. To that end designed,
Uprose the fabric wherein arc amaso'd
The round earth's products, in meet temple vast,
And rich with offerings front the people's mind.
Of these three spirits, that shall he the last,
Which was the first, in ages left behind.
Still bath it altar; here, though worshipped less,
By votaries few, who fewer yet shall be,
Till War become despised; and men confess
The strife of nations should be to redress
Their olden strife of nationality,
By commerce wed with peace. Here view their progeny!

Till CRYSTAL PALACE IS TYPICAL OF A TRLII COM-
MUNISM, CONFRATERNITY BETWEEN NATION.i.
Of fit materials framed this building stands :
Iron and glass. The strong and weak unite
To form a fairer structure than the hands
Of l'haroahs ever reared. Yes, it was right
The world's bazaar should chew how firm the bands
That state ran link to state, and right to might.
If men, in howsoever aunder'd lands,
Will, freely as these precincts fill with light,
Receive this truth of common brotherhood
That nations, children of one family,
Should seek true triumphs in each other's good;
So that the day may speed when all shall see
States strongly built without cement of blood,
And earth be one great city of the free

IT ENCLOSES Tut SPLENDOURS or NATURE, AS OF ART;
EFT THE HIGMIST OF ARTS CANNOT BE DIsrI.I.IED

Behold ! the forests' splendours flourish here,
Beneath the glassy heaven by science hung.—
Elms your green leaves shall never become sear.
Though from your boughs by nature's process dung,
Yet shall ye ware for ever in the clear
Sunlight within—and find a place amour
All the best memories of this better year ;
To which we hope new eras will belong.
But of one highest art, this palace holds
Exponent none. Into relief thought thrown
rpon the speechless marble, it unfolds
Its aisle along; but here, may not be shown,
The poet's plastic power, with word, that moulds
Works more enduring than the chiselled stone!

THE ORE; OF THAT ART, WHILE INTANGIBLE ♦YL

ETIULNAL.

Fleets. Armies, Battles—triumphs of an hour,
Decay—die--are forgotten : but one thing
Lives beyond mundane years. 'Tis in the power
Of the deep soul of man, a light to fling
That shall outlast the Sun's, and be a dower
For Time unto Eternity to bring.
Which an archangel might befit—yea, shower
More glory still upon his radiant wing.
This, Britain, the fur Future can command,
Were all thine outward might to fail ; this gains
Thine endless victories : this—should thy whole land
Become a desert, where no jut remains
Of all thy other trophies,—would loom grand
In Shakespeare's, Milton's names above thy manes !

THE DAMES OF " HIGH DEGREE" 55 HO VISIT THE PLACE,
ARE BESOUGHT FOR THEIR LOWLT SISTERS.
Flowers ye are earth's bright things to match the stars'
And meetly round this central fountain's base
Ye shine, the purer glories of the place,
God's handiwork. Yet have ye human peers :
Ifere, chiefly Her whose womanhood endears
To loyal hearts, the truly royal grace
This crystal roof enshrines. whene'er the face
Of England's matron Majesty, appears
Within Her people's house.—Hail Queenly Rose!
And hail thy scions! But ye courtly dames
Who throng you vista,—ah, forget not those—
Those drooping flowers, whose lack of nurture claims
Your sister-sympathies. Help to disclose
Their hues to the new day whose advent flames!