Literary cadet, and Saturday evening bulletin. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1826-1827, 1826-12-09

I lrst lur u my victim $ heaft asiue,
Why, like serpent, didst thou hide
Mid clustering flowers, and robes o. pride,
Thy warning gleam'
Iladst thou but once arisen in visage dread
From glorys fearful c6, her startled step had 6ed.
All little she recl.'d when st. Edwards crown
SO heavily press'd her tresses fair,
That with seepless wrath its thorns of care
Would rank!e within her couch Of Own.
To The tyrant's bower
In her beauty's power,
She came, as a lamb To the lions lair,
A. the light bird cleaves the fields of air,
And carols blythe and sweet, while treachery
weaves ITS snare.
Think what were her pangs as she tIaed her fate,
On that chansefu monsrch's brow of hate
What were the thoughts which in misery's hour,
Throngd DER her soul in her dungeon-tower
Regret, with pencil keen,
Retouch'd the deepening scene;
Delightful France, whose genial skies,
Baac her gay childhood's pleasures rise,
Earl Percy's lovc-his youthful grace,
Her gallant brother. fond embrace,
Her stately fathers feudal halls,
Where proud heraldic annals decku the ancisp.
walls.
Wrapt in the scaffold's gloom,
B,ieftenant of that living tomb,
She stands--the life. blood chils her heart,
And her tender glance from earth does part,
But her infant daughters image fair
In the smile of innocence is there,
1t clings to her soul mid its last despair,
And The desolate queen is doom'd to kn w,
How far mothers grel trapscends martyrs woe.
Say, did prophetic light
Hume her darkening sight,
Painting the future island queen;
Like the tabled bird, all hearts surprising,
Bright from blood-staIned ashes rising,
Wise, emery getio. bold serene
All 10 the scroll oftme.
Is seal'd, anil hope sublime
Rests but on those lar heights which mortals may
not climb.
The dying PRAYER with trembling fervor speeds,
For that false monarch by whose will she bleeds.
For him, who listening on that fatal morn.
Hears her death signal DER the distant lawn.
From the deep cannon speaking,
Then springs to mirth, and winds his bugle-horn,
And r,os while her blood is reeking
For HIM she prdys, in seraph tone,
"Oh be his sin forgiven!
Who raised me to an eart; ts,onc .;.o,1
And sends me now from prison lone,
To be a saint in heaven.''
We cannot but regret, that the time allowed us.
has not been sufficient 10 admit of our noticing
more fully the contents ofthe Memorial, but shall
content ourselves with making extracts from it in
future numbers Of our paper. The Editor, who We
understand to be Mr. HILL, the author of the .Har-
vest Festival and numerous other poems which
have gained for him, what PoPR would call, an
honest fame has discovered much taste in his selec-
tions and decisions and has, we believe, formed a
volume, which will be hailed with much gratiica-
ton by the lovers Of polite literature.
The Memorial will, we doubt not, find easy ac-
cess 10 the library Of every one, who takes an nte.
rest in the advancement Of American literature and
who hopes for its establishment on a basis, which
will gain for tia rank equal 20 that sustained bS
those foreign writers, the productions OF whose pens
are daily imported to this country, and cherished
in the literary market, as articles decidedly supe.
rior to those of American fabric, whilst they fall
many degrees behind those which are manuiactu.
red in the home market.
The publishers of the Memorial are entitled to
the patronage of the public, for commencing an en-
terprze so laudable in ITSELF and so we'll calculated
to onll forth the fire OF native genius which, but fox
opportunities like this, would probably iinger ir the
abodes of obscurlty, unnoticed and unknown.
That we have geniuses among US. who, il oppor.
tunitiss afforded them, would shine in the Lit.
erary hemisphere, no will doubt; but as pops
lar prejudice is decidedly in favor, ofransatan-
tic productions and writers have few chances
presented them TO lay their claims before the pub
lie, they kept in the back ground, and are left
to aste their talents on the desert air. We ven
ture to say, aud do not think that we hazard much
in making the assertion, that there are productions
in the Memorial. which would run a successful
race ofcompettop, with any thus far offered by By
ron. Moore, Campbell, Southcy, ColsrIdge, or Hoge
they only wore the stamp Of foreign importation.
and heh we hope, will not be neglected because
they are ofa native grocth."
Let, then, the Memorial be patronized; let those
who contributed to its pages be applauded accord'
ag to their deserts, and let us, smiles and APP
plause tell those who have aided in presenting
volume so creditable to American Literature,
that we are not insensible TO the merits OF our
writers, and that America is capable Of producing
her Pope, her Addison, her Byron and her Camp
bell; and that we may hope that the day Is not m