Page after page that searching blaze hath found,
Even whilst I strive to trace them through my tears.
The Hindoo widow, in affection strong,
Dies by her lord, and keeps her faith unbroken;
Thus perish all which to those wrecks belong,
The living memory—with the lifeless token!
Barry Cornwall has contributed several minor pieces, though we fear his poetical reputation will not be increased by either of them.
Some of the minor pieces are gems in their way, and one of the most beautiful will be found appended to our current Number.
To the prose:—The first in the volume is "the Sisters," a pathetic tale of about thirty pages, which a little of the fashionable affectation of some literary coxcombs might fine-draw over a brace of small octavos. As it stands, the story is gracefully, yet energetically told, and is entitled to the place it occupies. The author of Pelham (vide the newspapers) has a pleasant conceit in the shape of a whole-length of fashion, which, being the best and shortest in its line that we have met with, will serve to enliven our extracts:—