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On her green verge the spacious walls arise,
View her fair fields, and catch her balmy sighs;
See her near hills the bounded prospect close,
And her blue lake in glassy breadth repose.

With arms entwin'd, and smiling as we talk'd,
To the maternal room we careless walk'a,
Where sat its honor'd mistress, and with smile
Of love indulgent, from a floral pile
The gayest glory of the summer bower
Cull'd for the new-arriv'd—the human flower,
A lovely infant girl, who pensive stood
Close to her knees, and charm'd us as we view'd.

O! hast thou mark'd the Summer's budded rose,
When mid the veiling moss its crimson glows?
So bloom'd the beauty of that fairy form;
So her dark locks, with golden tinges warm,
Play'd round the timid curve of that white neck,
And sweetly shaded half her blushing cheek.
O! hast thou seen the star of eve on high,
Thro' the soft dusk of Summer's balmy sky,
Shed its green light,' and in the glassy stream
Eye the mild reflex of its trembling beam ?
So look'd on us with tender, bashful gaze,
The destin'd charmer of our youthful days;
Whose soul its native elevation join'd
To the gay wildness of the infant mind,
Esteem and sacred confidence impressed,
While our fond arms the beauteous child caress d.
Dear Sensibility! how soon thy glow
Dy'd that fair cheek, and gleam'd from that young brow!
How early, Generosity, you taught
The warm disdain of every grovelling thought;
Round sweet Honora, e'en in infant youth,
Shed the majestic light of spotless truth ;
Bid her for others' sorrow pour the tear,
For others' safety seel th' instinctive fear;
But for herself, scorning the impulse weak,
Meet every danger with unaltering cheek;
And thro' the generally unmeaning years
Of heedless childhood, to thy guardian cares,
Angelic Friendship, her young moments give,
And, heedless of herself, for others live.

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"The lustre of the brightest of the stars (says Miss Seward, in a note on her ninety-third Sonnet) always appeared to me of a green húe; and they are so described by Ossian.”

SONNET.

December Morning, 1782. I love to rise ere gleams the tardy light,

Winter's pale dawn; and as warm fires illume,

And cheerful tapers shine around the room,
Thro' misty windows bend my musing sight,
Where, round the dusky lawn, the mansions white,

With shutters clos’d, peer saintly through the gloom

That slow recedes; while yon gray spires assume,
Rising from their dark pile, an added height
By indistinctness given.-Then to decree

The grateful thoughts to God, ere they unfold
To Friendship, or the Muse, or seek with glee

Wisdom's rich page: 0 hours! more worth than gold, By whose blest use we lengthen life, and, free

From drear decays of age, outlive the old !

On her green verge the spacious walls arise,
View her fair fields, and catch her balmy sighs;
See her near hills the bounded prospect close,
And her blue lake in glassy breadth repose.

With arms entwin'd, and smiling as we talk'd,
To the maternal room we careless walk'd,
Where sat its honor'd mistress, and with smile
Of love indulgent, from a floral pile
The gayest glory of the summer bower
Culld for the new-arriv'd—the human flower,
A lovely infant girl, who pensive stood
Close to her knees, and charm'd us as we view'd.

0! hast thou mark'd the Summer's budded rose,
When mid the veiling moss its crimson glows?
So bloom'd the beauty of that fairy form;
So her dark locks, with golden tinges warm,
Play'd round the timid curve of that white neck,
And sweetly shaded half her blushing cheek,
O! hast thou seen the star of eve on bigh,
Thro' the soft dusk of Summer's balmy sky,
Shed its green light,' and in the glassy stream
Eye the mild reflex of its trembling beam?
So look'd on us with tender, bashful gaze,
The destin'd charmer of our youthful days;
Whose soul its native elevation join'd
To the gay wildness of the infant mind,
Esteem and sacred confidence impressed,
While our fond arms the beauteous child caressd.
Dear Sensibility! how soon thy glow
Dy'd that fair cheek, and gleam'd from that young brow!
How early, Generosity, you taught
The warm disdain of every grovelling thought;
Round sweet Honora, e'en in infant youth,
Shed the majestic light of spotless truth;
Bid her for others' sorrow pour the tear,
For others' safety feel th' instinctive fear;
But for herself, scorning the impulse weak,
Meet every danger with unaltering cheek;
And thro' the generally unmeaning years
Of heedless childhood, to thy guardian cares,
Angelic Friendship, her young moments give,

THE GRAVE OF YOUTH.

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When life is hurried to untimely close, In the years of crystal eyes and burnish'd hair, Dire are the thoughts of death;-eternal partiog From all the precious soul's yet known delights, All she had clung to here ;--from youth and hope, And the year's blossom'd April ;--bounding strength, Which bad out-leap d the roes, when morning suns Yellow'd their forest glade;~from reaper's shout And cheerful swarm of populous towns;- from Time, Which tells of joys forepast, and promises The dear return of seasons, and the bliss Crowning a fruitful marriage ;--from the stores Of well-engrafted knowledge ;--from all utterance, Since, in the silent grave, no talk!--no music! No gay surprise, by unexpected good, Social, or individual!--no glad step Of welcome friend, with more intenseness listen'd Than warbled melody !no father's counsel! No mother's smile!--no lover's whispered vow! There nothing breathes save the insatiate worm, And nothing is, but the drear altering corse, Resolving silently to shapeless dust, In unpierc'd darkness and in black oblivion.

And, heedless of herself, for others live.

The lustre of the brightest of the stars (says Miss Seward, in a note of her ninety-third Sonnet) always appeared to me of a green hue ; and thei are so described by Ossian.'

CHARLOTTE SMITH, 1749–1806.

Mrs. CHARLOTTE Smith was the daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq., of Stoke House, Surrey. Her father possessed another house at Bignor Park, on the banks of the Arun,' where she passed many of her earliest years; of which she speaks in the following beautiful stanza :

Then, from thy wildwood banks, Aruna, roving,

Thy thymy downs with sportive steps I sought,
And Nature's charms with artless transport loving,

Sung, like the birds, unheeded and untaught. “How enchanting must have been the day dreams of a mind thus en. dowed, in the early season of youth and hope ! Amid scenery which had nursed the fancies of Olway and of Collins, she trod on sacred ground: every charm of Nature seems to have made the most lively and distinct impression on her very vivid mind; and her rich imagination must have peopled it with beings of another world."?

From a very early age she had an insatiable thirst for reading, and devoured almost every book that fell in her way. From her twelfth to her fifteenth year, her father resided occasionally in London, and she was, while still a child, introduced into society. She lost her mother when quite young, and when her father was about to form a second marriage, the friends of the young poetess made efforts, most foolishly, to “establish her in life," as it is called, and induced her to accept the hand of a Mr. Smith, the son and partner of a rich West India merchant. She was then but sixteen, and her husband twenty one years of age. It was a most ill. advised and rash union, and productive of the most unhappy results. The first years of her marriage she lived in London, which was not at all congenial to her tastes. Subsequently her father in-law purchased for her husband, who was negligent of his business in the city, a farm in Hampshire. Here if possible, he did worse, keeping too large an establishment, and entering into injudicious and wild speculations. She foresaw the storm that was gathering, but had no power to prevent it.

In 1776, Mrs. Smith's father died. A few years after this event, her hus. band's affairs were brought to a crisis, and he was imprisoned for debt. With great fortitude and devoted constancy she accompanied him, and by her untiring exertions was enabled to procure his release. During his confinement, she collected her sonnets and other poems for publication. They were much admired, and passed through no less than eleven editions. In the following letter, she describes, most graphically,

The Arun is a river of Sussex county, on the southern coast of England. » Read a most genial sketch of her life in Sir Egerton Brydges' “Censura Literaria," vol. viii. p. 239; and another in his “ Imaginative Biography.”

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HER HUSBAND'S LIBERATION.

CHARLOTTE SMITH, 1749–1806.

3

Mrs. CHARLOTTE Smith was the daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq., Stoke House, Surrey. Her father possessed another house at Bignor Paris on the banks of the Arun,' where she passed many of her earliest years; of which she speaks in the following beautiful stanza :

Then, from thy wildwood banks, Aruna, roving,
Thy thymy downs with sportive steps I sought

,
And Nature's charms with artless transport loving,

Sung, like the birds, unheeded and untaught. “How enchanting must have been the day-dreams of a mind thes ev: dowed, in the early season of youth and hope! Amid scenery which bei nursed the fancies of Otway and of Collins, she trod on sacred ground: every charm of Nature seems to have made the most lively and distinct inpression on her very vivid mind; and her rich imagination must have peckled it with beings of another world."'?

From a very early age she had an insatiable thirst for reading, and devoured almost every book that fell in her way. From her twelfth to her fifteer's year, her father resided occasionally in London, and she was, while stil a child, introduced into society. She lost her mother when quite young, and when her father was about to form a second marriage, the friends of the yout poetess made efforts, most foolishly, to "establish her in life," as it is called

, and induced her to accept the hand of a Mr. Smith, the son and partner ef : rich West India merchant. She was then but sixteen, and her husband twenty-one years of age. It was a most ill. advised and rash union, and productive of the most unhappy results. The first years of her marriage ste lived in London, which was not at all congenial to her tastes. Subsequently her father in-law purchased for her husband, who was negligent of his business in the city, a farm in Hampshire. Here if possible, he did wors keeping 100 large an establishment, and entering into injudicious and wit speculations. She foresaw the storm that was gathering, but had no power

“It was on the 2d day of July that we commenced our journey.

my husband,
For more than a month I had shared the restraint of
in a prison, amidst scenes of misery, of vice, and even of terror.
Two attempts had, since my last residence among them, been made
by the prisoners to procure their liberation, by blowing up the
walls of the house. Throughout the night appointed for this
enterprise, I remained dressed, watching at the window, and ex-
pecting every moment to witness contention and bloodshed, or
perhaps be overwhelmed by the projected explosion. After such
scenes, and such apprehensions, how deliciously soothing to my
wearied spirits was the soft, pure air of the summer's morning,
breathing over the dewy grass, as (having slept one night on the
road) we passed over the heaths of Surrey! My native hills at
length burst upon my view! I beheld once more the fields where
I had passed my happiest days, and amidst the perfumed turf with
which one of those fields was strown, perceived with delight the
beloved group

from whom I had been so long divided, and for
whose fate my affections were ever anxious. The transports of
this meeting were too much for my exhausted spirits. After all
my sufferings, I began to hope I might taste content, or experience
at least a respite from my calamities!"

But this state of happiness did not long continue.
was again threatened, and he went to France. His wife and their eight
children accompanied him, and they spent an anxious and forlorn winter in
Normandy. The next year she returned to England, and by her great and
persevering exertions, enabled her husband to follow her. They hired a
mansion at Wolbeding, in Sussex, a parish of which Otway's' father had
been rector. Here she wrote her twenty-sixth Sonnet :-

Mr. Smith's liberty

TO THE RIVER ARUN.

to prevent it.

in 1776, Mrs. Smith's father died. A few years after this event, her hes band's affairs were brought to a crisis, and he was imprisoned for debt. Wide great fortitude and devoted constancy she accompanied him, and by her seciring exertions was enabled to procure his release. During his conôme

. ment, she collected her sonnets and other poems for publication. The were much admired, and passed through no less than eleven editions. It the following letter, she describes, most graphically,

“ On thy wild banks, by frequent torrents worn,

No glittering fanes or marble domes appear;
Yet shall the mournful Muse thy course adorn,

And still to her thy rustic waves be dear!
For with the infant Oiway, lingering here,

Of early woes she bade her votary dream

· Thomas Otway (1651—1685), the celebrated dramatic poet, author of the "Orphan,” and “Venice Preserved."

The Arun is a river of Sussex county, on the southern coast of England.

Reud a most genial sketch of her life in Sir Egerton Bridges' Census Literaria," vol. vill. p. 239; and another in his " Imaginative Biography.

While thy low murmurs sooth'd his pensive ear;

And still the poet consecrates the stream.
Beneath the oak and beech, that fringe thy side,

The first-born violets of the year shall spring;
And in thy hazels, bending o'er the tide,

The earliest nightingale delight to sing:
While kindred spirits, pitying, shall relate

Thy Otway's sorrows, and lament his fate!" It now became necessary for her to exert her faculties as a means of support, and she translated two or three stories from the French. Her husband being again obliged to leave the country, she removed with her children to a small cottage in another part of Sussex, and, while residing here, pub. lished a new edition of her Sonnets, with additions. She then tried her powers in another line of literature, and in 1788 gave to the public her “Emmeline, or the Orphan of the Castle,” which novel was exceeding. ly popular. In the following year, she published another novel, entitled "Ethelinde;" and to this succeeded, in very rapid succession, “Celestina," “Desmond,' The Old Manor House,” The Wanderings of Warwick," "The Banished Man,” “Montalbert," and others, besides several beautiful little volumes for young persons, entitled, " Rural Walks," “Rambles Farther," “Minor Morals;”-in all about forty volumes ! During all this time, she suffered severe family afflictions, in the loss of three children, as well as pecuniary trials in the adjustment of her husband's affairs. But the hour was arriving when grief was to subdue this long. tried victim. Her husband, it is said, died in legal confinement in March, 1806; and on the 28th of October following, she died herself, after a lingering and painful illness, which she bore with the utmost patience, retaining her faculties to the last.

As a poetess, Charlotte Smith has been excelled by few of her country. women. Her Sonnets are “most musical, most melancholy, and abound with touches of tenderness, grace, and beauty; and her descriptions of rural scenery are particularly fresh and vivid.”' “But while we allow," says Sir Walter Scott, “high praise to the sweet and sad effusions of Mrs. Smith's muse, we cannot admit that by these alone she could ever have risen to the height of eminence which we are disposed to claim for her for her prose narratives." But, however this might have been during her life, and when Walter Scott included her in his library of British Novelists, Charlotte Smith is now most known and valued for her poetry.

SONNETTO THE MOON.

Queen of the silver bow ! by thy pale beam,

Alone and pensive, I delight to stray,
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,

Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light

Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast;

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