The daily union. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1845-1857, 1850-08-25
THE MON.


This rs the modest and unpretending title OF beauti-
full volume which literary friend has just laid upon
our table the contents Of which have afforded us de-
light seldom experienced by in the perusal of work
OF such limited compass Ia looking through this book,
could suppress feeling OF surprise that its gifted
authoess had heretofore possessed herself OF
extended fame than suppose her yet TO have acquired
and which confidently predict is in store for her in
the future. We do not profess to be the best judge in
the world Of what is excellent in poetry but know
what is gratifying TO own taste, and hope that
not wholly insensibe 10 the charms of inspired
We feel that yet keenly alive TO all noble and
tender sentiments. expressed in the glowing and raptu-
language which belongs to true poetry, and hope
that we appreciate. in some small degree. also, the
beauties of metrca harmony. The volume before
ains nearly hundred poems, all of which most
excellent in their kind, and each OF which,
will richly repay attentive perusa The most elabo-
rate OF Miss Lynchs poetic productions is The Battle
of LIFE" which, in power OF expression, originality OF
thought and depth and tenderness OF sentiment to
equal anything of the kind which has appeared for
the last twenty years either side of the Atlantic. We
present our readers this morning with of the most
beautiful poems in the collection" The Mear'-and
intend hereafter grace columns with other spec
mems
THE IDEAL.
How shadow the Ideal throws before durkens the Actual "
lZanoni
La est sommei, l'amour e
A sad, sweet dream it fell upon my soul
When song and thought first woke their echoes there,
Swayng IN spirit to its wild CONTROL
And with the shadow of a fond despair
Darkenng the , fountain Of ny Young is,s stream cam
Whence art thou, shadovy presence, that hide
From my charmed sight the glorious things of earth
mirage DER LIES desert dost thou glide
Or, with those glimmerings of a former birth,
From some bright world alar our unremembered
know thou dwers not in this dull cold Real
know thy home Is IN some brighter sphere
know shall not meet thee, my Ideal!
In the dark wanderings that await me here;
Why comes thy gentle image then to me,
Wasting my night Of life in one long dream Of thee
The city's peopled solitude, the glare
or fesal halls, moonlight, and musc's tone,
All breathe the sad refrain, thou art got there;
And even with Nature am still alone;
With JOY watch her summer bloom depart;
love drear winters reign II is winter in my heart
And If sigh upon my brow to see
The deepening shadow of Times heeting wing,
II is Tor the youth IN ght give 10 thee
The vanished brightness OF my first sweet spring
That might give thee not the joyous form,
Unworn by bitter tears-unblghted by the storm
And when the hearts shonld be proud to win
Breathe, in those tones that woman holds SO dear,
Words o. i'm passioned homage mine,
Codiy and harsh they fail upon my ear
And as listen TO the efvent vow,
My weary heart replies, " Alas !, is not thou -
And when The thoughts within my spri, glow
That would outpour themse YES in words OF fire,
il some kind IL huence babe the music flow,
Like that which woke the OF Memnon's Tyre
Thou sunlight OF my life wakest not the lay,
And song within my heart unuttered dies away.
Depart, oh shadow fatal Dream depart,
Go, conjure thee; leave me this poor life,
And will meet with firm heroic heart
Its threatening storms aud its tumultuous strife,
And with the poet seer will see thee stand,
To welcome my approach to thine own spirtand