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At least thou shalt not want thy meed, ate and glad” of his only child. But His blessing on thy beauteous head, for a moment! For as on thy forehead And prayers to Him whose sacred breath was the light of the gazelle—so on Lightend the shades of life and death thy feet was the motion of that fairest Who said, with sweet benignity, creature of the wilderness; and al* Let little children come to me.' most ere our blessing had fallen up

on thy golden hair, away didst thou 'Tis very strange, my little dove !

glide from beneath these withered That all I ever loved, or love,

hands into the open moonlight, and In wondrous visions still I trace,

lend diviner lustre to all the dewy While gazing on thy guiltless face. Thy very name brings to my mind

stars ! Fairest of Virgins - Emily One, whose high birth and soul refined

Callender-art thon now no more! Withheld her not from naming me,

But meekest-most modest-Oh! Even in life's last extremity.

how composedly graceful-and how Sweet babe ! thou art memorial dear gladly grave!) may we dare almost Of all I honour and revere !

to say-without injury to thy gen

tle loveliness-most majestic of all Come, look not sad: though sorrow now young Matrons whom now the sun Broods on thy father's thoughtful brow, delights to look on-with one living And on the reverie he would dwell, blossom on thy bosom, and another Thy prattle soon will that expel. at thy knee, whom heaven preserve How darest thou frown, thou freakish from blight for ever, dear Buds! for fay!

sake of the holy stalk on which they And turn thy chubby face away, grow, for sake of that full-blown And pout, as if thou took'st amiss Rose, that hangs over them its penThy partial parent's offer'd kiss!

sive beauty, and with a tremulous Full well I know thy deep design; stir of happiness, lets fall upon them 'Tis to turn back thy face to mine, a celestial shower of tears! With triple burst of joyous glee, And fifty strains at mimicry!

Our own copy of the "Friendship's Offering,” (for Mr Pringle, in the

bustle of business, has forgotten to Crow on, sweet child! thy wild delight Is moved by visions heavenly bright :

send us a Presentation one), we shall What wealth from nature mayst thou gain with our own hands shall it be de

by an especial messenger-nay, nay, With promptings high to heart and brain, livered into thine" O wife and moBut hope is all though yet unproved, Thou art a shepherd's best beloved :

ther blest" -and in a year or two And now above thy brow so fair,

(how swiftly with thee on downy And flowing films of flaxen hair,

pinions are the hours now flying by!) I lay my hand once more, and frame that small image of thy loveliest self A blessing, in the holy name

will be turning over the leaves with Of that supreme Divinity

her tiny hands, and with bewildered Who breathed a living soul in thee." eyes ranging over the pictures there,

so like, and yet so unlike the scenes Fairest of virgins, Emily Callander, and beings of her own happy world, wert thou, two short years ago, when then, and long long afterwards, at that annual festival in Buchanan may it be so-peopled, along with Lodge, we put into thy yet untouch- living shapes, with the strange sweet ed bosom, a silken silver-lettered shadowings of childhood's dreams! copy of the “Friendship’s Offering.” Such volumes awaken the young spiDeep as the ideal concentrated blush rit like the fleecy clouds so white on of ten thousand moss roses, was then the beautiful bosom of the blue sky the blush that drowned in celestial -like the starry flowers that spring odours the very soul of all those strews over the green earth, as if whitest lilies expiring for a moment they had dropped from heaven-the in the fragrant paradise of thy breast. creations of the painter and the poet Folded as in prayer were then those are all added in the sacred simplicity pale hands-pale shall we not fear of the soul, to the new realities opento call them in that pensive attitude ing up daily before it, and all reupon our Christmas present press- ceived with a holy credulity into the ed to thy beating heart! The gift of heart of its joyful and sinless life. an old man who loved thee as a father Yet even childhood is aware of some or ever on this earth looked upon difference, as they fall upon its cheek, a father's face eyes more“ affection- between the tears shed over a picture or a tale, and those poured out a father's approving eỹe than all the for the sake of the sick or dying, on intensest happiness ever enjoyed at whose embrace it has lain, and kiss- the ending of some mournful story, ed in love or reverence, a sister or when all the wretched are comforta mother's lips ! And dearer to it is ed, and the good rewarded by all the flash of joy sent from the orb of they love for all they had suffered !


In all nature no such other beau- rather than reality an unsteady and tiful Apparition! Let thousands on wavering creation of colour within thousands of Rainbows have come the dreaming spirit,--when, on the before you on the sunny gloom, blue light of the distant air that apand yet does it not always seem pears a very solid, so dense the calm, to your heart, at each quiet start- is breathed the uncertain comingling, as if one and the same crea- the doubtful visiting of the Rainbow. ture reappeared--the colour-beam Faint, faint at first---but if you can ing child of calm and storm ? The look away but for one single moclouds pass away-and their faces ment-and on the quick return of are forgotten-fair, wild, strange your eyes to the haunted spot of though they be; in the troops and sky, they meet a Meteor ! And lo! companies of this evening's airy higher up-another-and another; phantoms, you think of no resem- till bound all together on a sudden blance to those on which you gazed by the spirit of beauty—they are one yestreen; in ceaseless succession on arch-a full-formed Rainbow-dazthey go over the rim of the earth zling, nay, say not dazzling, for the as into the grave of oblivion; we flush is as of a garland of heaven's mourn them not as they fade; and own dewy spring flowers, but to the the blue silence of each day's sky sense of light so bright with irreis supplied with those shadowy in- sistible attraction, that nought else habitants tbat tenant it but for that in the creation do your eyes beshortest term, and unregretted shift hold but the glory in which now away, and away, and away for ever. lives your whole gazing soul, never But thou! O bold, bright, and beau- suspecting-never rememberingteous Rainbow, dost seem-in spite but entirely and blissfully forgetful of all thy sudden disappearances that it is but an Apparition, by the and oft indeed to our eyes thou diest laws of nature evanescent in heaas it were the moment thou art born

ven, even as Joy on earth! -still to have an abiding place in The Iris! But no more of our own the sky. Fronting the sun so glo- reveries. Ye have all Campbell's riously, no Shadow thou! Imagina- Address to the Rainbow by heart. tion endows thee with a separate That is, indeed, a poem that, like the an independent being of thine own glory it hymns, seeins born of the sky -and in thee beholds a living pre- it spans, and

ithi itself embraces sence, that might endure even were all the most beautiful region of the the sun swept from heaven. Not celestial, interfused with all that is painted on the clouds seemest thou! loveliest here below in the terrestrial But, piled up so magnificently, back world. With that divine song in our ground do the clouds appear to be heart, we lift up the “loveliest Anto thee a very angel on the front of pual, with the loveliest name,”, and the picture of air, earth and sky! lo! fit vision to follow that of the Imagination feels that thou comest Arch of Promise, “ The Madonna and from afar to dwell for a short space Child !” by the gates of that abyss of black- “ O! happiest Thou of all, ness in which the mountains would Who bare the deadly thrall, be lost, if thou didst not illumine Which, for one mother's crime, to all was them, and hold all their rocks and given; ravines within the visible world, in Her first of mortal birth spite of the night-like fall flung down Brought Death to reign on earth, from that thunder-cloud. Oh! what But Thine bringst light and life again from a tinge of supernatural beauty_so heaven." it seems-faint faint at first, as if Is that, on the title-page, the Ecce Homo of Carlo Dolci, or by what business, or are utterly vapid; one or other name is known, amid the divine two of them, which shall be nameeffulgence radiating from it like strong less, are rather a little violent and sunbeams, the ineffable sanctity of vulgar--so we hope that next year's that gently bowed and deeply adoring Annuals will appear without any unhead? Á more than human beauty necessary or disagreeable introduc. seems to inspire the locks of that tion. long-flowing hair! No passion, but that of grief and pity for the sinful

THE INFANT CHRIST, WITH FLOWERS, whom he was sent to save, seems ever to have touched that serenest

“ Blest age of innocence and truth, forehead-that countenance so gra- Of open heart as open brow; cious and benign to man on earth, When thoughts are free and words are even now that the Son is praying to

sooth, his “Father which is in heaven." А Ere the warm blood of wilder youth repining earthly spirit might learn Flows through the veins, and in the eye resignation from the divine calm that Glows with unquiet brilliancybreathes there “Thy will be done.” Childhood, how fair art thou ! -And see here again, “ The Infant Fair even in the sons of earth ; Christ with flowers.” Say not infant; But thou wert fairest when the Saviour for all these divine features speak.

smiled. And it seems to us that Carlo Dolci When He of virgin birth has given to that young countenance

Stoop'd to the semblance of an earth-born -haloed as the head is with light, and

child. with ringlets holy as the light, and in its brightness outshining the glow Child-like, in ranging plain and wood ?

And did he spend the vacant hour of the glorious flowers gathered under one of the arms of the Christ,

And did he seek the shadowy bower, a divinely mournful expression, as if

And, sportive twine the summer flower,

While, as the rustic crown he wreathed the religious painter felt all the while

Each conscious flower fresh odours that this, though yet unshadowed by

breathed, actual trouble, was the face of one And e'en the blossoms strew'd who was ordained, for our sakes, to As though unheeded o'er the ground, be “a man of sorrow, and acquainted Droop'd not, nor wither’d; but unfading with grief.” We have dim and mys

shed terious thoughts and feelings for “the A balmier fragrance round, Infant Christ with Flowers," which, Than when they glitter'd on their parent perhaps, we never could express iv

bed? verse; thoughts and feelings that are not hinted at in Mr Dale's lines. Then blame we not the venturous dream which, however, are, we think, very Of painter, poet, who hath traced beautiful. Mr Dale is the editor of What some, perchance, may lightly deem the Iris; and seven of the best com- Of Him, in whom the Heavenly Beam positions in the volume are from his Though latent in a fleshly shroud, pen, comprehended under the gene

Was like the sun behind a cloud, ral title of "Illustrations of Scrip. Though dimm'd, yet undefaced ! ture.” What he means by saying, For who could mark that fair young brow, in his Preface, that a special agree

The ringlets of that widely clustering ment to write this series of poems,

hair, illustrative of seven of the engravings, No child of sin, no heir of death was

That look serene, nor know was felt by him to impose fetters, at once irksome and oppressive, we

there! cannot make out. To such a man,

Mark too that varied coronal, we, in our simplicity, should have thought it, instead of slavery, the

Where the rich Eastern flowers combine

Their hues of beauty-are not all most delightful of freedoms--a work His work that framed this earthly ball? of joy and love. Indeed, the Preface Flowers spring on earth-stars deck the to the Iris is not of “colours dipt in heaven.” Neither is that to the Sou- Alike in each his inward eye

skyvenir. The truth is, all the prefaces Knew his own work divine. are bad or indifferent; for they either Whate'er he saw, whate'er he heard, enter into what may be called parish- On earth, or sea, or sky, at morn or even,

Flower, star, wave, vocal bird,



called the Guardian To Him

were fraught with memories of Spirit, by the Rev. Henry Stebbing, Heaven.

which we are sorry is too long to Yes—when this low, terrestrial sphere

quote, and one or two others, not He deign'd-a seeming child—to tread,

more than respectable—but many Heard He not sounds none else could hear? difficulties, we can easily imagine, And were not viewless seraphs near

must occur in the way of an ediTo hold communion with their Lord ? tor the first year, that will not the And where th' angelic host adored, second—though indeed from mere Did not glad Nature shed

pious lips, untouched by a coal from Her sweetest flowers and if He wove heaven, sacred poetry, and prose too, What seem'd a wreath to human eyes, is apt to be rather dull, and to perBy angels born above,

suade even a kindled conscience to Might not that wreath outshine the sleep. The very reverse is the case crowns of Paradise ?

with poetry and prose too of a re

ligious character, when piety warms The peculiar, characteristic, and into life the seeds of genius in the distinguishing charm of this most soul, and when the true poet delightful Annual, the Iris, lies in the

“ Fixes his Pindus upon Lebanon." holy and divine spirit breathed from all its adornments. Eleven engra- A few verses only are there in the vings by the best living masters in Iris by James Montgomery, but they that art, of pictures that are allowed are precious. to be the very masterpieces of some “ Palms of glory, raiment bright, of the greatest of the old painters, Crowns that never fade away, and all the subjects scriptural ! Con- Gird and deck the saints in light, sidered in the light of an harmonious Priests, and kings, and conquerors they. whole, the Iris certainly is the most complete—we speak of its engravings Yet the conquerors bring their palms -of all the Annuals. Nothing of the To the Lamb amidst the throne; “ earth earthy,”—unless we so call And proclaim in joyful psalms, contrition's tears in the upraised eyes Victory through his Cross alone! of Carlo Dolci's Magdalen-obtrudes Kings their crowns for harps resign, itself upon our view, as it ranges

Crying, as they strike the chords, along these sanctities, from the Vir

• Take the kingdom—it is thine; in beatitude with her divine child, Round the altar, priests confess, gin Mother, the Frontispiece, sitting King of kings, and Lord of lords!' to Hagar with Ishmael in the desert,

If their robes are white as snow, just as her fainting spirit is resto

'Twas the Saviour's righteousness, red within her by the voice of the

And his blood that made them so. Lord. That such a series may be monotonous, can be thought only by Who were these?_On earth they dwelt, those who weary in reading the Old Sinners once, of Adam's race; and New Testament. We carry on Guilt, and fear, and suffering felt, the same devout spirit with which But were saved from all by grace. we contemplate the first of the series to the next, and then along with new They were mortal, too, like us ; gathered impulses to one and all of Ah! when we like them shall die, the others. Most of them might be- May our souls, translated thus, are-Altar-pieces; and the rest wor- Triumph, reign, and shine on high !" thy a place on the holiest walls. The “ Christ in the garden of Gethse- Sometimes in cloudy weather, mane,” from an antique-name of when the sun is seen struggling the artist unknown—is most sublime. through a storm, one expects, as a It is not too painful for mortal eye to relief to the disastrous dulness of look on, as some pictures of that trial the day, either a rainbow, or someare ; and Mr Dale has judged, we thing like it in the sky. But no rainthink, wisely and well, in giving no bow comes--only a “ false glitter," “ Crucifixion.” The literary con- that parts the gloom, and keeps the tents of the Iris are respectable, and light of promise to the wish, but perhaps, with the exception of the breaks it to the eye"- -so sometimes editor's own compositions, a very on the portentous dulness of those


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pages, a false lustre seems spread- the eye, fade away into nothing, and ing itself out into an Iris; but after leave a leaden blank, where shone a few ineffectual gleams, falls into the false and ineffectual fire. Or in pieces and disappears. In plainer plainer words still, occasionally this words, some fragments of composi- volume acts as a soporific, till the tion here and there are deceitful, patient is awakened by his own. and after for a moment deluding snore.


Was the first Annual that affected Hall is not ashamed of the faith that or we ought rather to say, exhibited is in him, nor does he fear that, even -a more serious, solemn, and even in hours of ordinary thought, the sacred character, than one might, per- “still small voice” of piety will not haps, without due reflection, have be heard sweetly and restoratively; thought altogether suitable to a and that from pictures of religious volume, which, from its mode and peace, comfort, and contentment, season of publication, was naturally many a reader who may have taken expected to be a volume chiefly for up the Amulet for amusement mereamusement or entertainment. Ac- ly, or to while away a vacant hour, cordingly it was subjected, we be- will not rise “ a wiser and a better lieve, to a good deal of critical carp- man.” He has in his book many ing from persons who pretended to coadjutors of congenial spirit and be displeased with religion out of corresponding power, and of these, place and time; as if religion could one of the best in all respects is Mrs ever be out of place and time in Hall, a lady of much taste and feelthe hands of thoughtful writers and ing, and, as need may be, a very livethoughtful readers, desirous of ha- ly or a very touching writer. ving even what is called their lighter The Embellishments, which are studies productive of the very best twelve in number, are all good, and instruction.

It was the precursor some of them of surpassing excel. undoubtedly of the Iris; and may lence. The “First Interview between be truly said now to occupy a mid- the Spaniards and Peruvians,” by dle station between that, which is Briggs engraved by Greatbach, is entirely religious, and the other An- one of the most elegant compositions nuals, from which religion is not pur- we have lately seen; and the contrast posely excluded indeed, but in which affecting to a great degree between itis-properly according to their plan the ferocious duplicity of those who -but a rare theme or subject. From come to destroy, and the noble—the the beginning the Amulet has been heroic simplicity of shape and soul of excellent-both in spirit and execu- the doomed Inca, and his Queen, and tion—it has improved every year, their plumed retinue. It is the openand this season it is fairly entitled to ing scene of a bloody tragedy,-“cotake its place with the best on the ming events cast their shadows belist, both on the score of its embel- fore;” and the catastrophe, yet unlishments and its literature. It is acted, darkens the unsuspecting sunequally free from the sin of cant and shine. In one part of the background, of liberalism in its religion, which to between the Inca Atahualpa, and Faour minds is unobtrusively yet earn- ther Vincent Valverde, chaplain to estly Christian. The editor, who is the expedition, is seen the ominous a most amiable and able man, and a mouth of a cannon; and, on another, very good writer, has by far too deep a mounted warrior burning for the a sense of the awfulness of the mys- combat, in which that fearful chivalry teries of our faith, to treat of them will tread down so many crests; and in a volume which, after all, being behind him spears athirst for blood, necessarily of a miscellaneous na- bristling in the gloom that darkens ture, and rightly containing gay and all that region of the sky with prolight matter and airy, must often be phetic shadows. taken up in moods of mind when What a pleasant relief from the the reader is unprepared for such forebodings of such horrors, to turn sanctities. On the other hand, Mr to the“ Fisherman's Children,” by that

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