New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1844-07-20
Like gentle rain upon the fainting flowers.


Person is often OF the highest order. From her
poems numerous selections might be made TO es
tabiish the truth of our assertion; but we shall
content ourselves with two or three. In passing,
however, we may say that her poems entitled
"Saul's Daughter" Ocean Melodies" and
The Voice of the Lord" all OF which appeared
in the "Southern Literary Messenger" are par.
ticularly characterized by Imagination. From
another poem to the Northern Light" published
in the same periodical, we make the following
beautiful extract:
whence the thrill,
The indescribaLle electric thrill,
That rushes through the spirit, as some tone
OFnature's melody awakes the ear
Or when some balmy zephyr bathes the brow;
Or as the wandering eye marks some rich tint
In summers rosy garland, when the wind
| Bends the elastic grain and slender flower;
Or when the rich OLD forest gently waves
| His dark green plumes, answering IN majesty
To is mpassioled whisper When the clouds
Iieava up 10 nous forms and dazzling hues;
Or he Ike sleeping beauty, softly bright;
Or sometimes when tn: trembling star OF eve
Locks loving " upon Us ! L. il not chord
That these things touch some hali-unconsc lOus
Ihar vihra'es with the memoties Of the past
Ere earth enshrinrd the spirit 1t mus, be
That in thu secret treasury Of the mind,
There les blozon'd .uurn-, Of tine scenes,
~ '
With which The spirit was familiar once,
And which il longs for ever; wandering on
Amid the maze of earth, ofsense and sin,
Catching at every shadow which appears
In Fancy magic mirror like The form
OF some bright bliss which Memory's piercing eye
Sees in that hidden volume; wailing still
in bitter disappointment, az it grasps
The vain and empty shade, sees II fit
In smiling scorn away. Just your wreaths
Outright Auroroan tints, We Northern Lights,
Are fading from the Boreacan gates
Oi heavens immense cathedral"
One of her best poems is called "The Wan.
dercr," and is founded on theappenrance Of Jeho.
yah to Moses on Mount Sinai. or this poem we
have heard that Mr.. Willis remarked, he had
written nothing to compare to IT, except "Jeph-
thah's Daughter" which he considered the best
of his scripturel poems. We give the conclusion
Of it that our readers may Judge for themselves
"He rose went forth, and stood on the sheer rock
Waiting for Gods appearing.
Hank From far
fearfulrushing sound. The heavens grew dark
Is God approaching Lo strong fierce wind
Rushes upon the mountain, tearing up
The Shrubs and heritage from its arid breast;
Lifting huge rocks from their eternal beds,
And dashing them adown the fearful sleeps,
With such appalling sounds as if the world
Were falling into atoms; while the wind
Shrek d terribly amongst the caves, and clefs,
God was not in the wind.
Now wakes a sound
Deep low moaning in the mountains breast,
Which trembcs iearfally, as if she felt
The dreadful presence. Now her bosom henves
With strange commissions, and she bellows forth
Her agony, while the eternal rock
On which the servant Of Jehovah stood
Shook like n leafupon the aspen bough,
And mighty rocks fell down. and caverns yawn'd,
And the whole mountain totter'd
1t is past
God was not in The earthquake.
Lo! there comes
more appalling wonder. Surely
The Terrible is near Surglng along
Above the wilderness n food Of fire
l. sweeping tow'rd the mountain. lnits way
The atmosphere bursts into whirls of fire
With frighliul detonaiions. IT'S too much
For mortal nun to meet. With pallid fear
tio shrunk within his cave The fire rush'd past
And vanshed-But God was not in the fire.
A pure breeze follow'd The fierce element,
Heaven was serene, and on mountain Horeb lap
The downy wing of silence. On that calm
There came still small roice.-
IT'S God! The servant feels his Sovereign nigh.
He wraps his face within his mantle's folds,
And AT the entrance Of that haow'd cave,
| With head how'd down, and meek attentive SOUL
Converses with Jehovah
From poem on " Imagination" We make the
|
ten nothing else-would entite her to high rank
among our female poets:
| The atmosphere is magic, as il bathes
| The brow and bosom with Lethean balm;
| And beauteous angels wait there radiant
| With The pure blisSful light that gushes forth
From Heavens half open portals; and their wings
Glance ever al our bidding, swift as thought
| How sweelly do they bear us in thei. arms,
| From this dull workshop OF the heart and brain,
| Tn their own blPsf dominion where each breeye
| Is laden with delight. How tenderly
they lay us in the arms of those we love,
While the full heart is throbbng, and the eve
| Pouring from its rich depth an ardent flood
OF ecs,acy, unmipgled, unalloy'd
Then hands are caspd, and lips are fondly press'd
! That never ueet save in that magic land;
And words are brearh'd, and ecsteces are felt,
That earth knows nothing Of There comes no doubt
| No whitening suspicion, 10 mstrust,
Into that joyous world. All there is pure,
FautIess and beautiiui,-and full Of bliss
With another beautiful poem we close our tx
for the whole of it, but there is nothing We can
my MUSE.
g. Born Of the sunlight and the dew
hat a. ct amongst The tlOwIs,
That on the river margin grew
Beneath the willow bow'rs
Her earliest pillow was wreath
OF ,iolcts newly blown,
And the me ok incense Of their breath
Became III once her own.
Her cradle hymn the river sung
In that same liquid tone,
With which IL gave, when earth was young,
Praise to the Living One;
The breeze that lay upon its breast
Responded with sigh,
And the sweet ring dove from her nest
Warbled her lullaby
The onlv nurse she ever knew
Was Nature, free and wild:
Such was her birth and SO she grew
A moody, way ward child,
Who loved 10 climb the rocky steep,
To wade the mo .nlain stream;
To lie beside the sounding deep
And weave tn enchanted cream.
She loved the paths with shadows dim
Beneath the dark leuved tees,
Where Nuiure's frathered seruphim