" We have now a series of pictures bearing an impress
as pleasant as the gleams of warm autumn in the "Pleasures of Memory,"
by Rogers; the wildness of Loutherbourgh, the grandeur of Salvator Rosa,
the terror-striking forms of Fuseli, embodied with increased energy in
the immortal Lays of Byron: the every-day incidents of life, copied with
the graphic fidelity of a Sharp, and bearing the faithful stamp of
cottage grouping, which distinguished the pencil of a Morland,--in the
natural paintings of Crabbe. We have Catullus stealing from his couch,
to breathe a new intonation into the harp of Moore; and last of all, we
have the votaress of virtue and moral feeling, the Cambrian minstrel,
Mrs. Hemans, making melancholy appear as delightful as love.
_The Author of a Tradesman's Lays._
* * * * *
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
Though the waves of old Time are darkly advancing,
There still is one spot where the sunbeams are glancing,
There glow the gay visions of youth's sunny morn,
Safe from the ocean-wave, safe from the storm:
For Memory keeps the spot fresh and green ever,
The dark tides of Time, shall sweep over it never!
There Fancy, her mirror holds up to the eye,
And lovely the forms that come wandering by,
Like music come softly the sounds that have fled,
The voices of lov'd ones, the tones of the dead:
Oh Memory! keep that spot fresh and green ever,
And the dark tides of Time, sweep over it never.
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