MR. WHITE,—The very polite invitation received in yours of February 11th, (the more valuable because it in part originates with Mr. R.) to contribute to your well conducted, entertaining and instructive periodical, would have been sooner answered, but that I was desirous to write something specially intended for the Messenger. But owing to my having a work (Universal History in Perspective) now in the press, the manuscript of which is not yet quite finished, I am obliged to devote every leisure moment in that direction. Unwilling, however, not to respond to the Virginian politeness which dictated your letter, I have sent you, from my port-folio, some little poems which have not been published.
The Messenger, as I have learned from some of our gentlemen who frequent the reading room, is highly spoken of here. Accept my grateful acknowledgment of your favor, in sending it to me.
Respectfully, yours,
EMMA WILLARD.
OCEAN HYMN.
Written on board the Sully, on a return voyage from France, July, 1831.
| Rock'd in the cradle of the deep, Father, protect me while I sleep; Secure I rest upon the wave, For thou my God hast power to save. I know thou wilt not slight my call, For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall, And calm and peaceful is my sleep, Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. And such the trust that still were mine, Tho' stormy winds swept o'er the brine; Or tho' the tempest's fiery breath Rous'd me from sleep to wreck and death, In ocean-cave, still safe with thee, The germ of immortality, And sweet and peaceful is my sleep, Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. |
The following was written soon after the intelligence of Lafayette's death reached this country. At the public examination of the young ladies under my charge, they appeared in mourning, on the last day, August 5th, on account of the death of our country's father, and also on that of the death of two of their former school companions. At the close of the school exercises, the little poem in blank verse, was read by one of their number, and the dirge, with a plaintive accompaniment on the harp and piano, was sung. It may be thought strange that I should venture to produce this, when the performances of such eminent men as Messrs. Everett and Adams are before the public.1 But the incidents of the life of Lafayette are so well known, that it appears to me only necessary to give to memory the key-note and excite her to use her own powers; and to this end a poetic diction gives to the writer some advantages, as it admits of greater condensation of narrative, of thought, and feeling.