And the wide desert blossom as the rose.”
So by the cross they parted, in the wild,
Each fraught with musings for life’s after day,
Memories to visit one, the forest’s child,
By many a blue stream in its lonely way;
And upon one, midst busy throngs to press
Deep thoughts and sad, yet full of holiness.
[“‘The Cross in the Wilderness,’ by Mrs Hemans, is in every way worthy of her delightful genius; and nothing but want of room prevents us from quoting it entire. Mrs Hemans is, indeed, the star that shines most brightly in the hemisphere; and in every thing she writes, there is, along with a fine spirit of poetry, a still finer spirit of moral and religious truth. Of all the female poets of the day, Mrs Hemans is, in the best sense of the word, the most truly feminine—no false glitter about her—no ostentatious display—no gaudy and jingling ornaments—but, as an English matron ought to be, simple, sedate, cheerful, elegant, and religious.”—Professor Wilson in Blackwood’s Magazine. Dec. 1826.
LAST RITES.
By the mighty minster’s bell,