We venture to assert that if Thomas Moore had written Amir Khan at the age of sixteen, there are thousands by whom it would be read and admired who would hardly condescend to open Miss Davidson's volume; and that too, without being able to assign any other or better reason than that Moore is a distinguished and popular British bard, whereas the other was an obscure country girl, who lived and died in the state of New York.
The lines to the memory of Henry Kirk White, which were composed at thirteen, are much superior to many elegiac stanzas written by poets of some reputation at twenty-five or thirty. Of all her minor pieces however, those which were written at fifteen seem to us to possess the greatest merit, if we except the Coquette, a very spirited production in imitation of the Scottish dialect, composed in her fourteenth year. The following are the two first stanzas:
| "I hae nae sleep, I hae nae rest, My Ellen's lost for aye; My heart is sair and much distressed, I surely soon must die. I canna think o' wark at a', My eyes still wander far, I see her neck like driven snaw, I see her flaxen hair." |
The image of the snowy neck and flaxen hair of the beautiful but unkind fair one, presented so strongly to the rejected lover, as to prevent his performing his daily work, strikes us as highly poetical and true to nature, as we doubt not all genuine lovers will testify. Burns wrote many, very many verses, which were much superior, but Burns wrote some also, which were not so good. Ruth's answer to Naomi, must be allowed, we think, to be a good paraphrase of that most affecting passage of scripture. We must give the whole to the reader.
[1 We subjoin the passage of scripture paraphrased by Miss Davidson, and also another paraphrase which has been ascribed to the Hon. R. H. Wilde of Georgia. Our readers can compare and decide between them.
"And Ruth said, entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go: and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried."
| Nay, do not ask!—entreat not—no! O no! I will not leave thy side, Whither thou goest—I will go— Where thou abidest—I'll abide. Through life—in death—my soul to thine Shall cleave as fond, as first it clave— Thy home—thy people—shall be mine— Thy God my God—thy grave my grave.] |
We present an extract from a piece called "Woman's Love," as a specimen of Miss Davidson's management of blank verse, a form of poetic diction which Montgomery thinks the most unmanageable of any. The fair authoress might not herself have experienced that holy passion, but she certainly knew how deep and imperishable it is when once planted in the female bosom.
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"Love is A beautiful feeling in a woman's heart, When felt, as only woman love can feel! Pure, as the snow-fall, when its latest shower Sinks on spring-flowers; deep, as a cave-locked fountain; And changeless as the cypress' green leaves; And like them, sad!—She nourished Fond hopes and sweet anxieties, and fed A passion unconfessed, till he she loved Was wedded to another. Then she grew Moody and melancholy; one alone Had power to soothe her in her wanderings, Her gentle sister;—but that sister died, And the unhappy girl was left alone, A maniac. She would wander far, and shunned Her own accustomed dwelling; and her haunt Was that dead sister's grave: and that to her Was as a home." |