her youth, but her education had been most unfortunate. She was totally ignorant of housewifery, and could as easily have managed the spear of Minerva as her needle. It was from observing these deficiencies, that, one day while she was under my roof, I purposely directed her attention to household economy, and told her I had purchased Scales, which I intended to present to a young lady as a wedding present; pointed out their utility (for her especial benefit), and said that no ménage ought to be without them. Mrs. Hemans, not in the least suspecting my drift, reported this saying, in a letter to a friend at the time, as a proof of my simplicity. Being disposed to make large allowances for the faults of her education and the circumstances in which she was placed, I felt most kindly disposed towards her, and took her part upon all occasions, and I was not a little affected by learning that after she withdrew to Ireland, a long and severe sickness raised her spirit as it depressed her body. This I heard from her most intimate friends, and there is striking evidence of it in a poem written and published not long before her death. These notices of Mrs. Hemans would be very unsatisfactory to her intimate friends, as indeed they are to myself, not so much for what is said, but what for brevity's sake is left unsaid. Let it suffice to add, there was much sympathy between us, and, if opportunity had been allowed me to see more of her, I should have loved and valued her accordingly; as it is, I remember her with true affection for her amiable qualities, and, above all, for her delicate and irreproachable conduct during her long separation from an unfeeling husband, whom she had been led to marry from the romantic notions of inexperienced youth. Upon this husband I never heard her cast the least reproach, nor did I ever hear her even name him, though she did not wholly forbear to touch upon her domestic position; but never so as that any fault could be found with her manner of adverting to it. WHEN first, descending from the moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide When last along its banks I wandered, The mighty Minstrel breathes no longer, 10 My attention to these antiquities was directed by Mr. Walker, son to the itinerant Eidouranian Philosopher. The beautiful pavement was discovered within a few yards of the front door of his parsonage, and appeared from the site (in full view of several hills upon which there had formerly been Roman encampments) as if it might have been the villa of the commander of the forces, at least such was Mr. Walker's conjecture. WHILE poring Antiquarians search the ground Upturned with curious pains, the Bard, a Seer, Takes fire: -The men that have been re appear; Sara Hutchinson died about 6 P.M., and it was the thought of her innocent and beautiful life that, through faith, prompted the words "On wings that fear no glance of God's pure sight, No tempest from his breath." The reader will find two poems on pictures of this bird among my Poems. I will here observe that in a far greater number of instances than have been mentioned in these notes one poem has, as in this case, grown out of another, either because I felt the subject had been inadequately treated, or that the thoughts and images suggested in course of composition have been such as I found interfered with the unity indispensable to every work of art, however humble in character. WHO rashly strove thy Image to portray? Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air; How could he think of the live creature gay With a divinity of colours, drest 10 Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from She came, though meek of soul, in seemly pride Of happiness and hope, a youthful Bride. O dread reverse! if aught be so, which And troubles that were each a step te Heaven: Two Babes were laid in earth before she died; A third now slumbers at the Mother's side; Its Sister-twin survives, whose smiles afford A trembling solace to her widowed Lord Reader! if to thy bosom cling the pain Of recent sorrow combated in vain; Or if thy cherished grief have failed to thwart Time still intent on his insidious part, Lulling the mourner's best good thoughts asleep, Pilfering regrets we would, but cannot, keep; During my whole life I had felt a strong desire to visit Rome and the other celebrated cities d regions of Italy, but did not think myself justified in incurring the necessary expense till I eived from Mr. Moxon, the publisher of a large edition of my poems, a sum sufficient to enle me to gratify my wish without encroaching upon what I considered due to my family. My cellent friend H. C. Robinson readily consented to accompany me, and in March 1837, we set from London, to which we returned in August, earlier than my companion wished or I should yself have desired had I been, like him, a bachelor. These Memorials of that tour touch upon at a very few of the places and objects that interested me, and, in what they do advert to, are r the most part much slighter than I could wish. More particularly do I regret that there is notice in them of the South of France, nor of the Roman antiquities abounding in that disict, especially of the Pont de Degard, which, together with its situation, impressed me full as uch as any remains of Roman architecture to be found in Italy. Then there was Vaucluse, with 3 Fountain, its Petrarch, its rocks of all seasons, its small plots of lawn in their first vernal eshness, and the blossoms of the peach and other trees embellishing the scene on every side. he beauty of the stream also called forcibly for the expression of sympathy from one who from is childhood had studied the brooks and torrents of his native mountains. Between two and ree hours did I run about climbing the steep and rugged crags from whose base the water of aucluse breaks forth. Has Laura's Lover," often said I to myself, ever sat down upon is stone? or has his foot ever pressed that turf ?" Some, especially of the female sex, would ave felt sure of it: my answer was (impute it to my years), "I fear not." Is it not in fact bvious that many of his love verses must have flowed, I do not say from a wish to display his wn talent, but from a habit of exercising his intellect in that way rather than from an impulse f his heart? It is otherwise with his Lyrical poems, and particularly with the one upon the egradation of his country: there he pours out his reproaches, lamentations, and aspirations like n ardent and sincere patriot. But enough: it is time to turn to my own effusions, such as they are. ΤΟ HENRY CRABB ROBINSON COMPANION! by whose buoyant Spirit cheered, In whose experience trusting, day by day Treasures I gained with zeal that neither feared The toils nor felt the crosses of the way, These records take, and happy should I be RYDAL MOUNT, Feb. 14th, 1842. |