GAY AND SERIOUS.
Engraved & Printed expressly for Graham’s Magazine by S. Dainty

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXXVI. May, 1850. No. 5.

Table of Contents

Fiction, Literature and Articles

Poetry and Music

[Transcriber’s Notes] can be found at the end of this eBook.

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXXVI. PHILADELPHIA, MAY, 1850. No. 5.

SHAKSPEARE.

ULRICI’S DISCOVERY.—ANALYSIS OF HAMLET.

———

BY H. C. MOORHEAD.

———

More than half a century ago, one of Shakspeare’s most illustrious commentators deemed it necessary to accompany the free expression of his views with words like these:

“I am almost frighted at my own temerity; and when I estimate the fame and the strength of those that maintain the contrary opinion, I am ready to sink down in reverential silence, as Æneas withdrew from the defense of Troy when he saw Neptune shaking the wall, and Juno heading the besiegers.”

But the enthusiastic study of Shakspeare was then just beginning. How many antiquarians, book-worms and hypercritics have since toiled and quibbled over him! how many philosophers have deeply meditated him! how many ponderous volumes have been written upon him? How many great actors have played him? How many nations have heard and read him? Surely this mine, however deep and fruitful, must long since have yielded all its treasures.

If, indeed, the shadows of mighty names could subdue the inquiring spirit of this age to any degree of fear or reverence, the Shakspeare student might now be content to receive, with implicit confidence, the creed which has been written. But whilst the works of Nature are daily undergoing new investigations, and receiving new illustrations, it is fit that those works which of all human productions most resemble them—the works of Shakspeare—should be subjected to a similar scrutiny. And so they have been, and with results worthy of the days of telegraphs and locomotives. A German critic, named Ulrici, has recently made a discovery which as far surpasses all former Shaksperian discoveries, as the voyage of Columbus surpassed the voyages of those navigators who before him had timorously hugged the shore.

A writer in the North British Review, for November, 1849, explains the subject briefly thus:

“Ulrici’s most remarkable discovery is, that each of Shakspeare’s plays has for its foundation some moral idea or theme, which is reflected and echoed over and over again with endless variety and profit, in all the characters, expressions, and events of the piece. The subtle German critic would have produced more converts to his doctrine had he illustrated it fully by the analysis of some one play, instead of having merely suggested its prevalence by means of a slight sketch in each.”

The reviewer, then, observing that Ulrici’s views had been received in England with a “wide skepticism,” proceeds to prove them by analyzing the “Merchant of Venice.” He also, incidentally, mentions the theme of “Timon of Athens,” and of “Love’s Labor Lost.” Beyond this no hint is given as to the “ground-idea” (as it is termed) of any of the plays; and yet so palpable is Ulrici’s theory, that the writer of these pages, after having read the reviewer’s remarks, found no difficulty in applying it to any of the plays with which he was familiar, by simply revolving them in his mind. As any person tolerably read in Shakspeare may do the same, the “wide skepticism” above referred to must soon give way to universal conviction, accompanied by astonishment that the discovery was not sooner made, and the frank admission that Shakspeare has been understood by Ulrici alone.

Our author has always been called the Poet of Nature; and the better he is understood, the better he is found to deserve the title. The leading features of all mountains, of all lakes and rivers, of all mankind, are the same; yet in the whole world there are no two of either precisely alike. The theme in each of Shakspeare’s plays is one—pervading every part of it, and giving tone and color to the whole. Yet how endless the variety of character, of action, of sentiment! So striking, indeed, is the diversity, that the unity has, for more than two hundred years, been strangely overlooked; so consummate is the art, that it has wholly “concealed the art.”

If we examine the play of Hamlet by the light of Ulrici’s torch, we shall find that its subject, like its plot, is very comprehensive. Yet there is in it a “central idea,” to which all the various topics discussed are more or less intimately related. This idea may be expressed by the single word DISCRETION—discretion in its most comprehensive sense, as signifying, “prudence, discernment and judgment, directed by circumspection.” I propose to show that with this idea every incident, every character, every speech, I might almost venture to say, every sentiment of the play is connected, by the relation either of resemblance or of contrast.

It will be most convenient (on account of the intricacy of the play) to examine the several scenes and speeches, in connection with different aspects of the theme. I shall therefore employ the following division:

I. Reserve; contrasted with which (1) Extravagance of conduct and language; (2) Espionage; (3) Inquisitiveness; (4) Flattery.

II. Vacillation.

III. Craft.

The reader will readily perceive that all these qualities have an intimate relation with the quality of discretion, directly or by contrast, in its use or its abuse. As it is Shakspeare’s custom to pursue his subject into all its collateral branches, there are doubtless many other modifications of the theme of Hamlet, but the above division will answer our present purpose.

I. Reserve.

In the second scene of Act First, the king and queen expostulate with Hamlet on his immoderate grief for the death of his father; reminding him that it is a common occurrence, and urging him to “cast his nighted color off.” In the next scene, Laertes, who is about to embark for France, makes a long speech to Ophelia, recommending throughout reserve in her conduct toward Hamlet:

The chariest maid is prodigal enough,

If she unmask her beauty to the moon.

The admirable speech of Polonius to Laertes, which immediately follows, is composed of ponderous maxims, all of the same import; as, for example, “Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;” “Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment;” “Neither a borrower nor a lender be,” etc., etc. And the scene closes with a speech from Polonius to Ophelia, in which he cautions her respecting Hamlet, telling her to be “somewhat scanter of her maiden presence,” etc.

In the next scene (the fourth) occurs Hamlet’s speech to Horatio on drunkenness, which, it will be observed, in conformity with the theme, turns entirely upon the imprudence of the practice. In the fifth scene of the same act, Hamlet, after his interview with the Ghost, baffles the curiosity of Horatio and Marcellus. Not content with keeping his own secret, and swearing them not to reveal what they had seen, he makes them further promise that if he should see fit “to put an antick disposition on,” they never will, “with arms encumbered thus, or this head-shake, or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, as Well, well, we know; or, we could, and if we would; or, if we list to speak, or such ambiguous giving out,” intimate that they “knew aught of him.” In the same scene the Ghost says: “I could a tale unfold,” etc. “But that I am forbid to tell the secrets of my prison-house.”

In the first scene of the third act, Hamlet’s rude speeches to Ophelia, “Get thee to a nunnery,” etc., are mainly on the same subject; and the next following scene contains the celebrated advice to the players, every word of which inculcates reserve or moderation; it teaches the same lesson as the speeches of Polonius and Laertes, above referred to, though it is applicable to very different circumstances. Hamlet’s speech to Horatio, immediately after, is to the same purpose:

“Blessed are those

Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,

That they are not a pipe for fortune’s finger

To sound what stop she pleases; Give me that man

That is not passion’s slave,” etc.

In the same scene Rosencrantz and Guildenstern endeavor to find out Hamlet’s secret; but he baffles and rebukes them with the beautiful illustration of the flute:

Ham. Will you play upon this pipe?

Guild. My lord, I can not.

· · · · · · ·

Ham. Why look you, now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice in this little organ; yet can not you make it speak. S’blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.

Such are a few of the chief passages in which the lesson of “reserve” is taught directly. The reader will find many others, (maxims, illustrations and allusions,) in every scene; but I pass on to the notice of some instances in which the same lesson is taught indirectly or by contrast. These passages may properly be arranged under several heads.

(1.) Extravagance of conduct and language.

Hamlet is for the most part, calm and self-possessed. But on the occasion of his first interview with the Ghost, in the 4th scene of the first act he is transported (as, indeed, he well might be,) beyond all bounds of moderation: in the words of Horatio:

He waxes desperate with imagination.

His speech to Laertes at the grave of Ophelia is a still more remarkable example of extravagance:

Zounds, show me what thou’lt do;

Woul’t weep? woul’t fight? woul’t fast? woul’t tear thyself?

Woul’t drink up Esil? eat a crocodile?

I’ll do’t. Dost thou come here to whine?

To outface me with leaping in her grave?

Be buried quick with her, and so will I.

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw

Millions of acres on us; till our ground,

Singeing his pate against the burning zone,

Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou’lt mouth,

I’ll rant as well as thou.

Ophelia’s madness is caused by the extravagance of her love; and it is worthy of remark that she is finally drowned in consequence of venturing too far on the “pendent boughs” of a willow which grew “ascaunt the brook.”

In the last scene Hamlet and Laertes, whilst playing with rapiers, become “incensed,” and thus the final catastrophe is produced.

In the last scene of the second act Hamlet meets the players and makes them recite Eneas’ tale to Dido. The only justification of this long and otherwise tedious passage, will be found in its close connection with the theme; for it is an admirable specimen of bombast.

Unequal matched,

Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, strikes wide;

But with the whiff and wind or his fell sword

The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,

Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top

Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash

Takes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear, etc., etc.

How different this from Shakspeare’s own style! We shall presently see that the speeches of the Player King and Player Queen are direct illustrations of another aspect of the theme; indeed every thing connected with this “play within the play,” is directly to the main purpose.

In the latter part of the first scene of act second Ophelia relates to her father the wild conduct and appearance of Hamlet, and Polonius attributes it to the extravagance of his love:

This is the very ecstasy of love, etc.,

and descants on the “violent property” of that passion. Laertes, as we have seen, could speak well in favor of reserve, but he seldom practiced it. His conduct is generally violent, and his speech ranting; as in his riotous appearance before the king in act fourth, scene fifth, and in his contest with Hamlet at the grave of Ophelia.

(2.) Espionage.

This method of ferreting out secrets is extensively practiced throughout the play.

In the first scene of act second, Polonius instructs Reynaldo (who is going to Paris), where Laertes then was, to “make inquiry of his (Laertes’) behaviour;” to find out his associates, and by pretending to know his vices—by “putting forgeries upon him,”—draw from them an account of his way of life:

Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of troth;

And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,

. . . . . . . .

By indirections find directions out.

In the next scene the king and queen employ Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as spies upon Hamlet; and, to ascertain whether he loves Ophelia, the king and Polonius agree to hide behind the arras, whilst the latter, as he expresses it, “looses his daughter to him” in the lobby. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern make several attempts to sound Hamlet, but, as they report to the king and queen—act third scene first—he “with a crafty madness keeps aloof.” In act third, scene fourth, Polonius again plays the eaves-dropper in order to overhear the conversation between Hamlet and his mother, and Hamlet, hearing him, and supposing him to be the king, makes a pass through the arras and kills him.

I took thee for thy better; take thy fortune;

Thou find’st, to be too busy, is some danger.

(3.) Inquisitiveness.

Inquisitiveness is a very prevalent feature of the play. There are the challenging of sentiments—ghost-seeing—the sending and receiving of messages—soliloquies—(a species of self-examination,)—and the conversation is to an unusual extent made up of questions and answers. To this head may also be referred, (at any rate the reader will at once recognize their relation to the central idea,) the riddles of the old grave-digger in the church-yard scene, (act fifth, scene first,) and his witty evasions of Hamlet’s questions. Also Hamlet’s refined speculations, in which, as Horatio says, he “considers the matter too curiously;” as, when he shows in act fourth, scene third, how a “worm may go a progress through the guts of a beggar;” and “traces the noble dust of Alexander till he finds it stopping a bung-hole,” in act fifth, scene first; and in his reflections on the lawyer’s skull, and on that of “poor Yorick.”

(4.) Flattery.

In act third, scene third, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern vie with each other in flattering the king. In act fourth, scene seventh, the king flatters Laertes respecting his skill in fencing. Osric plays the flatterer when he agrees with Hamlet first that it is very hot, then cold, then hot again; and Polonius, when he sees the cloud in the shape of a camel first, then of a weasel, and then of a whale, according as Hamlet directs. In act second, scene second, Hamlet says to Rosencrantz: “My uncle is king of Denmark; and those that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.” And in act third, scene second, he teaches the use of flattery:

Why should the poor be flattered?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

Where thrift may follow fawning.

II. Vacillation.

Discretion, pushed to extremes, ends in vacillation, and this is the leading trait in Hamlet’s character. His father’s ghost appears, tells how he was “sleeping, by a brother’s hand cut off,” and enjoins on him, as a solemn duty to avenge his death. Hamlet acknowledges the duty, and resolves to perform it; he feels himself “prompted to his revenge by heaven and hell,” and yet he shows from the first a painful consciousness of his own infirmity of purpose.

The time is out of Joint; O cursed spite,

That ever I was born to set it right.

His numerous soliloquies are accordingly for the most part mere developments of this trait of his character; and illustrations of the inevitable tendency of meditation to beget inaction. The narrow or bigoted mind, which either can not or will not see more than a single feature of a subject, may well be prompt and decided; but whoever is capable and willing to survey any great question in all its aspects, will reach a firm conclusion,—if he reach it at all,—only by slow and painful steps. Laertes, who is little better than a ranting madcap, no sooner conceives a purpose, than he hastens to execute it; whilst Hamlet, who is a calm philosopher, ponders, and procrastinates, and does nothing.

In the last scene of act second, Hamlet, after having listened to the recitation of a player, compares his own “motive and cue for passion,” with that of a fellow, who spoke merely “in a fiction, in a dream of passion;” and reproaches himself for coldness and inaction; but ends at last in the conclusion that the spirit he had seen may be a devil, and that he must have “grounds more relative than this.”

The next scene contains the great soliloquy on death. “To be or not to be,” etc. On a former occasion Hamlet had exclaimed:

O that the Everlasting had not fixed

His canon ’gainst self-slaughter!

And he now concludes that the most profound meditation on the subject merely

Puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,

Than fly to others that we know not of.

This soliloquy has sometimes been condemned as taking an unworthy and inadequate view of the great subjects of death, and “that undiscovered country” beyond the grave; and if it had been Shakspeare’s purpose to discuss these subjects, the criticism would undoubtedly be just. But let us bear in mind that his object in this passage was simply to illustrate “vacillation of mind” in connection with the highest subjects of human contemplation, and we shall find that he has accomplished all he undertook in a manner entirely worthy of himself.

Very similar to this is the king’s soliloquy on repentance, in act third, scene third.

What if this cursed hand

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood?

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens

To wash it white as snow? . . . .

Then I’ll look up;

My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer

Can serve my turn? . . . .

Try what repentance can: What can it not?

Yet what can it, when one can not repent.

Throughout the whole speech the mind of the guilty monarch fluctuates between hope and despair; and Hamlet, seeing him on his knees, exclaims: “now might I do it, pat; and now I’ll do it;” but again falls to moralizing, and puts it off to a more convenient season.

Hamlet’s first soliloquy, before he has seen the Ghost, (act first, scene second,) turns on the queen’s inconstancy in forgetting his father and marrying his uncle so soon: “But two months dead!” “A beast that wants discourse of reason, would have mourned longer.” And his conversation with Horatio immediately after is to the same effect:

The funeral bak’d meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

In his interview with the queen in act third, scene fourth, where he compares the picture of his father with that of his uncle, he dwells on the same topic. See also the dumb show in act third, scene second, and the dialogue between the Player King and Player Queen. Every line of these speeches illustrates the theme.

P. King. I do believe you think what now you speak;

But, what we do determine oft we break.

. . . . . . . .

This world is not for aye: nor ’tis not strange

That even our loves should with our fortunes change.

. . . . . . . .

The great man down, you mark his favorite flies;

The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.

. . . . . . . .

For who not needs shall never lack a friend;

And who in want a hollow friend doth try,

Directly seasons him his enemy.

The constancy of Hamlet’s father is throughout opposed to the inconstancy of his mother. The Ghost on his first appearance dwells on the subject:

From me, whose love was of that dignity

That it went hand in hand even with the vow

I made to her in marriage.

And after all the wrongs he has suffered, whilst enjoining upon Hamlet to change his course, he charges him to contrive nothing against his mother; and when he afterward appears at the interview between Hamlet and the queen, he interposes in her behalf:

But look! amazement on thy mother sits;

O, step between her and her fighting soul.

The queen also, with all her faults, remains constant in her affection for Hamlet, and “lives, almost, by his looks.” Ophelia is constant in her love,—to insanity and a watery grave; and Hamlet makes fine speeches on constancy of purpose. His soliloquy in act first, scene fifth, is in a noble strain:

“Remember thee!”

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat,

In this distracted globe. Remember thee?

Yea, from the table of my memory

I’ll wipe away all trivial, fond records,

. . . . . . . .

And thy commandment all alone shall live

Within the book and volume of my brain, etc.

But his “remembrance” is like that of a man who “beholdeth his natural face in a glass, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.”

III. Craft.

The word craft properly signifies art, ability, dexterity, skill, as well as cunning and dissimulation—and all these qualities have a close relation to discretion.

The pretended madness of Hamlet is therefore illustrative of the theme; just as the real madness of Lear is illustrative of the theme of that play. The dissimulation of Hamlet, however, is not such as to lessen our esteem for his character. Surrounded as he is with spies and enemies, we feel that it is a justifiable stratagem. It is worthy of remark that Edgar employs a similar means of defense in the Play of King Lear; and that as Shakspeare’s love of contrast has led him thus to oppose the assumed madness of Edgar to the real madness of Lear, so here we have the real madness of Ophelia opposed to the assumed madness of Hamlet.

Hamlet displays craft also (but still a justifiable craft,) in his device of the play, “to catch the conscience of the king.” And when he has succeeded, he triumphs in this proof of his own skill, with a very natural vanity. “Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me,) etc., get me a fellowship in a cry of players?” In his interview with his mother, (the picture scene,) he dwells chiefly on her want of discernment; and, at the conclusion of the scene, alluding to his “two schoolfellows,” he boasts that he will “delve one yard below their mines, and blow them at the moon;” a feat which he very fully accomplishes. But after all he feels and acknowledges that he is a mere instrument in the hands of a higher power.

Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,

When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us,

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them how we will.

And when Horatio endeavors to dissuade him from fencing with Laertes, because he acknowledges a foreboding of evil he replies: “Not a whit, we defy augury; there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come; the readiness is all.” These solemn sentiments were a fit prelude to the tragic fate upon which he was rushing.

Polonius frequently boasts of his own discernment. As when he says to the king:

Hath there been such a time (I’d fain know that,)

That I have positively said ’tis so;

When it proved otherwise.

And though he was mistaken as to the cause of Hamlet’s madness, he reasoned justly on the subject, and erred in his conclusion only because there was a supernatural cause at work, which he could not penetrate. The king also dwells on the same topic (skill or management,) in many places, and especially in his several conversations with Laertes.

But I must hasten to a conclusion; hoping that I have awakened sufficient interest in the reader’s mind to induce him to pursue the subject with the play before him; and assuring him that he will find the theme in some one of its various phases, ever present; from the sentinel’s challenge at the beginning, to the speech of Fortinbras on propriety at the end; in the love-letter of Hamlet; in the carol of Ophelia; in the doggerel song of the old grave-digger; and every where else.

A glance at the progress of the play will show that the theme, like the plot and the characters, is gradually developed. A brief notice of the contents of each act will make this apparent.

Act first.—This act is wholly occupied with matters of an inquisitive character, and lectures on reserve and prudence.

Act second.—Craft is the characteristic of this act. Reynaldo is appointed a spy upon Laertes: Hamlet begins to play the madman: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are appointed spies upon Hamlet: Polonius and the king resolve to secrete themselves where they can overhear Hamlet talking with Ophelia: and Hamlet conceives the project of using the players to make the king betray his own guilt. The object of all these plots, however, it will be observed, is merely to gain information.

Act third.—In this act the several plots formed in the last, are carried into execution.

Act fourth.—Here the subject assumes a more serious aspect; Ophelia’s indiscreet love ends in madness and death: Laertes, who has heretofore discoursed like a philosopher on moderation, now becomes furious, bearding the king on his throne; if craft is employed it is no longer for the mere purpose of finding out secrets, but for the destruction of life; as when the king sends Hamlet to England, to be put to death; and when, on his unexpected return, Laertes and the king concert his death by means of the treacherous fencing-match.

Act fifth.—Inquisitiveness now assumes a more intricate form in the old grave-digger’s riddles, and in Hamlet’s refined speculations. Credulity (as Horatio’s account of prodigies in the first act,) becomes bigotry in the priest who buried Ophelia, and faith in a special Providence in Hamlet. Foppery and affectation reach their height in Osric; discretion assumes its highest form in Hamlet’s frank apology to Laertes, and in his anxiety lest he should leave a “wounded name” behind him; Horatio crowns his constancy by resolving to die with his friend; and ungoverned passion produces the scandalous conflict at Ophelia’s grave, and the scuffle in fencing, which is the immediate forerunner of the bloody catastrophe. The change of rapiers has been condemned as a bungling device; but was it not most probably designed to illustrate the theme, showing, as it does, the blind and heedless rage of the combatants?

It is manifest that Ulrici’s method of reading these plays must lead to a re-consideration of the most important criticisms which have heretofore been made upon them. The propriety and relevancy of each part being considered with reference to the “central idea,” many apparent anomalies will be reconciled, and many imputed faults vindicated. A new value will also be given to them; for, viewed in this light, the masters of eloquence,—the Senator, the Advocate, and the Preacher,—may, from these models, learn how to discuss a theme, or conduct a discussion. The poet rambles through all nature, yet never for one moment forgets his purpose; now he convulses us with laughter, and now melts us to tears; now fires us with indignation, and now chills us with horror; yet ever, amidst these various and conflicting emotions, steadily pursues his argument. Every speech is to the same purpose, and yet there is no repetition; and, though he perseveres till the subject is wholly exhausted, our interest seldom for one moment languishes. Let him, therefore, who would see Logic, and Rhetoric, and Poetry in their most perfect form and combination, repair to the pages of Shakspeare.

SUMMER FRIENDS.

They came—like bees in summer-time,

When earth is decked with flowers,

And while my year was in its prime

They reveled in my bowers;

But when my honey-blooms were shed,

And chilling blasts came on,

The bee had with the blossom fled:

I sought them—they were gone.

They came—like spring-birds to the grove,

With varied notes of praise,

And daily each with other strove

The highest strain to raise;

But when before the frosty gale

My withered leaves were strown,

And wintry blasts swept down the vale,

I sought them—they were gone.

I. G. B.

LINES.

———

BY GEO. D. PRENTISS.

———

Sweet moon, I love thee, yet I grieve

To gaze on thy pale orb to-night;

It tells me of that last dear eve

I passed with her, my soul’s delight.

Hill, vale and wood and stream were dyed

In the pale glory of thy beams,

As forth we wandered, side by side,

Once more to tell love’s burning dreams.

My fond arm was her living zone,

My hand within her hand was pressed,

And love was in each earnest tone,

And rapture in each heaving breast.

And many a high and fervent vow

Was breathed from her full heart and mine,

While thy calm light was on her brow

Like pure religion’s seal and sign.

We knew, alas! that we must part,

We knew we must be severed long,

Yet joy was in each throbbing heart,

For love was deep, and faith was strong.

A thousand memories of the past

Were busy in each glowing breast,

And hope upon the future cast

Her rainbow hues—and we were blest.

I craved a boon—oh! in that boon

There was a wild, delirious bliss —

Ah, didst thou ever gaze, sweet moon,

Upon a more impassioned kiss?

The parting came—one moment brief

Her dim and fading form I viewed —

’Twas gone—and there I stood in grief

Amid life’s awful solitude.

Tell me, sweet moon, for thou canst tell,

If passion still unchanged is hers —

Do thoughts of me her heart still swell

Among her many worshipers?

Say, does she sometimes wander now

At eve beneath thy gentle flame,

To raise to heaven her angel-brow

And breathe her absent lover’s name!

Oh when her gentle lids are wet,

I pray thee, mark each falling gem,

And tell me if my image yet

Is pictured tremblingly in them!

Ay, tell me, does her bosom thrill

As wildly as of yore for me —

Does her young heart adore me still,

Or is that young heart changed like thee?

Oh let thy beams, that softest shine,

If still my love to her is dear,

Bear to her gentle heart from mine

A sigh, a blessing, and a tear.

SPIRIT OF HOPE.

———

BY MRS. E. J. EAMES.

———

Enchantress, come! and charm my cares to rest.

How shall I lure thee to my side again,

Thou, who wert once the Angel of my Youth?

Thou, who didst woo me with thy blandest strain —

Tinting wild Fancy with the hues of Truth;

Whose plumy shape, floating in rosy light,

Showered purest pearl-drops from its fairy wing,

Making earth’s pathway like the day-star bright,

Thou charmer rare of life’s enchanted spring!

Fair were the scenes thy radiant pencil drew,

When on my eyes the early beauty broke:

And thy rich-ringing lyre, when life was new,

A glowing rapture in my bosom woke.

Then thy gay sister Fancy made my dreams

Lovely, and lightsome as the summer-hours,

And in her fairy loom wrought hues and gleams

That clothed the Ideal in a robe of flowers.

Now, thou hast vanished from my yearning sight —

Thou comest no more in melting softness drest —

No more thou weavest sweet visions of delight,

No charm thou bring’st to lull my heart to rest.

The bloom has faded from thy face, dear Hope —

The light is lost—the shadow comes not back!

Thy green oasis-flowers no more re-ope,

To scatter fragrance o’er life’s desert track.

Oh, angel-spirit of my perished years!

Thy early memory stands before me now:

Ah! by that memory, which so fair appears,

Unveil once more the beauty of thy brow;

Come—if I have not quite outlived thee—come!

And bid thy rival dark Despair depart —

His touch has left me blind and deaf and dumb —

Bring thou one ray of sunshine to my heart!

A GALE IN THE CHANNEL.

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BY CHARLES J. PETERSON, AUTHOR OF “CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR,” ETC.

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