Aged 41.”
REVIEW OF HER WORKS.
An eminent living critic has said that Mrs. Hemans’ poetry is silent to all effective utterance of original truth. We do not adopt that sentiment, but we believe had her mind been directed in youth to the works of Lord Bacon and Bishop Butler, or even the elementary propositions of Euclid, it would probably have gained both as to intellectual and moral strength. Her poetical life divides itself into four periods. The juvenile, the classic, the romantic, and the mature. Her mind precociously expanded to a keen sense of the beautiful, and a warm appreciation of nature and poetry. Some pieces found in her works date their composition as far back as 1803 and 1804; but it was not till 1808 that her first volume was ushered into the world. In 1812, she gave to the press “The Domestic Affections.” In 1819, appeared “Tales and Historic Scenes.” In 1823, a tragedy entitled “The Vespers of Palermo.” In 1826, she published “The Forest Sanctuary.” In 1828, “Records of Woman.” In 1830, she brought out “Songs of the Affections.” In 1834, appeared her little volume of “Hymns for Childhood,” “National Lyrics and Songs for Music,” “Scenes and Hymns of Life,” and sonnets, under the title of “Thoughts during Sickness.”
These are her principal works. She obtained a prize from a patriotic Scotsman for the best poem on Sir William Wallace, and a prize was also awarded her by the Royal Society of Literature for the best poem on Dartmoor. Like all authors who have written much, her poetry is of various excellence; but for pathos, sentiment, and gorgeous richness of language, we know no lyrics superior to her little pieces. She was, as Lord Jeffrey well remarked, an admirable writer of occasional verses. Mrs. Hemans never left the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, but her imagination visited and realized every place of which she read, or heard, or saw a picture. How minute, eloquent and exciting, are her descriptions of “The Better Land.”
“‘Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds on their starry wings
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?’