Felicia Hemans

“ To teach—by truths that bear the seal
God hath himself imprest!
And can those flowers, which bloom to fade,
For thee a fitting wreath appear?
No! wear thou, then, the Ivy-braid,
Whose leaves are never sere! ”

“ How should your Sons forget to glow,
Ye Mighty! with your quenchless flames?
It is not thus! in ever glen
The soil with noble dust is blent;
Of fearless and of gifted Men
The Land is one high monument! ”

“ In ancient days, the God of wine,
And bid thee at the banquet be
Companion of the vine?
Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound
Of revelry hath long been o'er,
Where song's full notes once peal'd around,
But now are heard no more. ”

“ Thou 'rt called to lovelier life at last
By the soft spell of Heman's song.
Such life as Inspiration's fire
Kindles through nature unconfin'd,—
Creative breathings of the lyre—
The immortality of mind. ”

“ In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star, as a friend from whom we have been long separated. Among the Portuguese and Spaniards, peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the new world. The two great stars which mark the summit and the foot of the cross, having nearly the same right ascension, it follows hence, that the constellation is almost perpendicular, at the moment when it passes the meridian. ”

“ This circumstance is known to every nation that lives beyond the tropics, or in the southern hemisphere. It has been observed at what hour of the night, in different seasons, the cross of the south is erect or inclined. It is a time-piece that advances very regularly nearly four minutes a day, and no other group of stars exhibits, to the naked eye, an observation of time so easily made. How often have we heard our guides exclaim in the savannas of Venezuela, or in the desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, 'midnight is past, the cross begins to bend.' ”

“ The Literary Gazette, 7th July 1821
[Being ourselves delighted with the beautiful poem to The Ivy, by Mrs. Hemans, in our No. 231, it is a pleasure to find, that it has made a similar impression on poetical minds. Our last contained a tribute from a bard of the finest sense, and the following congenial lines are from the pen of Mr. B. Barton, whose Muse has raised the Society of Friends among the Children of Song.] -Ed.
TO MRS. HEMANS.
Lady! ”