Page:On the Character of Mrs. Hemans's Writings.pdf/4

Rh a recent memoir of Mrs. Hemans deems it necessary almost to apologize for her occasional fits of buoyant spirits:— "Oh, gentle friend, Blame not her mirth who was sad yesterday, And may be sad to-morrow." The most intense sunshine casts the deepest shadow. Such mirth does not disprove the melancholy which belonged to Mrs. Hemans's character. She herself alludes to the times when "Sudden glee   Bears my quick heart along On wings that struggle to be free     As bursts of skylark song." Society might make her say— Thou canst not wake the spirit That in me slumbering; lies, Thou strikest not forth the electric fire Of buried melodies." But it might very well strike the sparkles from the surface. I have said that the writer's character is in his writings: Mrs. Hemans's is strongly impressed upon hers. The sensitiveness of the poet is deepened by the tenderness of the woman. You see the original glad, frank, and eager nature Soon feeling that the weight of this world is too heavy upon it — The shadow of departed hours Hangs dim upon its early flowers." Soon, too, does she feel that A mournful lot is mine, dear friends, A mournful lot is mine." The fate of the pearl-diver is even as her own:— A sad and weary life is thine,    A wasting task and lone, Though treasure-grots for thee may shine     To all beside unknown.

Woe for the wealth thus dearly bought! And are not those like thee Who win for earth the gems of thought, Oh wrestler with the sea?

But oh! the price of bitter tears Paid for the lonely power, That throws at last o'er desert years A darkly-glorious dower.

And who will think, when the strain is sung, Till a thousand hearts are stirr'd, What life-drops from the minstrel wrung Have gush'd at every word." Imagine a girl, lovely and gifted as Mrs. Hemans was, beginning life,—conscious, for genius must be conscious of itself,—full of hope and of belief;—gradually the hope darkens into fear, and the belief into doubt; one illusion perishes after another, "and love grown too sorrowful,"