“There is great sweetness in the following portion of a little poem on a ‘Girl’s School:’—
‘Oh! joyous creatures! that will sink to rest
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,’ etc.
“There is a fine and stately solemnity in these lines on ‘The Lost Pleiad:’
‘Hath the night lost a gem, the regal night?
She wears her crown of old magnificence,’ etc.
“The following on ‘The Dying Improvisatore,’ have a rich lyrical cadence, and glow of deep feeling:—
‘Never, oh! never more,
On thy Rome’s purple heaven mine eye shall dwell,’ etc.
“But we must stop here. There would be no end of our extracts, if we were to yield to the temptation of noting down every beautiful passage which arrests us in turning over the leaves of the volumes before us. We ought to recollect, too, that there are few to whom our pages are likely to come, who are not already familiar with their beauties; and, in fact, we have made these extracts, less with the presumptuous belief that we are introducing Mrs Hemans for the first time to the knowledge or admiration of our readers, than from a desire of illustrating, by means of them, the singular felicity in the choice and employment of her imagery, of which we have already spoken so much at large;—that fine accord she has established between the world of sense and of soul—that delicate blending of our deep inward emotions with their splendid symbols and emblems without.”]