"Her brow hath opened on me see it there, So gleams the crescent moon, that loves Nor dread the depth of meditative eye; What wouldst thou more? In sunny glade, Was such a stillness e'er diffused Since earth grew calm while angels mused? That flowers themselves, whate'er their hue, And though for bridal-wreaths and tokens true Which the careless shepherd sleeps on, As fitly spring from turf the mourner weeps on And without wrong are cropped the marble tomb to strew." This is exquisite poetic painting-the imaginative portraiture of the finest feminine beauty, wherein are visible, deep meditativeness and the tenderest feeling. The childhood and early womanhood of Sara Coleridge were spent under the generous guardianship of her uncle, Southey, in whose house, at Keswick, she, with her mother and brothers, had a happy home for many years. During that period she also enjoyed the fatherly intimacy of Wordsworth, and very often was his companion in long rambles through the beautiful region where the poet dwelt-listening to his sage discourse with the earnest ear of thoughtful youth-listening (as she described it after the poet's death), not to record or even to remember, but for delight and admiration. Under such propitious guidance, or in the joyous fellowship of her brothers or of her sister-like cousins, did she learn to hold communion with nature, and thus was her poetic soul strengthened. In after years, in dedicating to Words. worth her edition of the "Biographia Literaria," fitly and with feeling did she subscribe herself "With deep affection, admiration, and respect, your child in heart, and faithful friend, Sara Coleridge." Such, for many of the most susceptible years of her life, was the out-door existence of this child of genius, and with it were combined the finest opportunities for literary culture, for her home was the house of Southey-a house of books-the laboratory of one of the most industrious and comprehensive students of the age. Never, perhaps, were such opportunities given for the formation of a woman's mind and character, and never were privileges more happily improved. The influence of her father's mind. -other than that which was hereditary transmission-belonged to later years. Miss Coleridge's first literary production was during her Keswick residence, and had its origin manifestly in connection with some of Southey's labors; it began probably in affectionate assistance given to him, while engaged on his great South American history. In 1822 there issued from the London press a work in three octavo volumes, entitled, "An Account of the Abipones, an Equestrian people of Paraguay. From the Latin of Martin Dobrizhoffer, 18 years a Missionary in that country." No name of translator appears, and a brief and modest preface gives not the least clue to it even now in catalogues the work is frequently ascribed to Southey. At the time of the publication Miss Coleridge was just twenty years of age, and therefore, this elaborate toil of translation must have been achieved before she had reached the years of womanhood. The stout-hearted perseverance needed for such a task is quite as remarkable as the scholarship, in a young person. The modesty which marked the manner in which the work was put before the public seems to have continued in after years, for in none of her writings or letters, as far as I am aware, did she think it worth while to set forth her claim to the nameless translation. Coleridge himself spoke of it with fond and just admiration, when in 1832 he said, "My dear daughter's translation of this book (Dobrizhoffer's) is, in my judgment, unsurpassed for pure mother English by anything I have read for a long time." ("Table Talk," vol. ii., p. 81.) Southey, in his "Tale of Paraguay," which was suggested by the missionary's narrative, paid to the translator a tribute so delicate, and so controlled, perhaps, by a sense of his young kinswoman's modesty, that one needs be in the secret to know for whom it is meant. It is in the stanza which mentions Dobrizhoffer's forgetfulness of his native speech during his long missionary expatriation, and alludes to the favor shown him by the Empress Maria Theresa : "But of his native speech, because well-nigh A garrulous but a lively tale, and fraught By whom his tomes to speak our tongue were taught, As when he won the ear of that great Empress Queen." Charles Lamb, in an epistolary strain eminently characteristic, echoes the praise bestowed upon his friend's child and her rare achievement. Writing to Southey in 1825, in acknowledgment of a presentation copy of the "Tale of Paraguay," he says: "The compliment to the translatress is daintily conceived. Nothing is choicer in that sort of writing than to bring in some remote impossible parallel—as between a great empress and the inobtrusive, quiet soul, who digged her noiseless way so perseveringly through that rugged Paraguay mine. How she Dobrizhoffered it all out, puzzles my slender Latinity to conjecture." (Talfourd's Letters of Charles Lamb, vol. ii., p. 189.) In 1829, Miss Coleridge was married to her cousin, Henry Nelson Coleridge, a barrister, and brother to Mr. Justice Coleridge, of the court of the Queen's Bench.2 This event is thus mentioned by Mr. Cuthbert Southey in the biography of his father (vol. vi. P. 72):—“The autumn of the year (1829) was marked by a great 2The name of Sir John Taylor Coleridge should not be mentioned without the recollection that he was the "John Coleridge" of Southey's letters, and the successor of Gifford in the editorship of the Quarterly Review-of whom Southey, writing to his American friend, Mr. Ticknor, in 1824, said-" Under John Coleridge's management there will be an end of the mischievous language concerning your country, * * * and henceforth that journal will do all in its power towards establishing that feeling which ought to exist between the two nations."-Life, etc., of Southey, vol, v., p. 194. * change in the household at Greta Hall. From the time of my father's first settling at Keswick, where, it will be remembered, he found Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge residing, she and her only daughter had formed part of the family circle, and now the latter was to change, not her name (for she was about to marry her cousin, the late Henry Nelson Coleridge), but her state and residence; and Mrs. Coleridge was about to take up her permanent residence with them. This, of course, was like parting with a sister." This was the beginning of a married life, which lasted about thirteen years, until her widowhood. In some lines composed by her brother Hartley-dated January, 1843, and entitled "On the Death of Henry Nelson Coleridge,"-in the following passage the poet's vision is turned in retrospect to his sister as a bride; and the beauty of her character-at once so gentle, and so mighty in the strength of its affections-is impressively portrayed: "My sister loved him well! She was a maid (alas! a widow now) Not easily beguiled by loving words, Nor quick to love; but when she loved, the fate Admitting nought less holy than itself. Seven years of patience, and a late consent My sweetest sister in her honeymoon, And then she was so pensive and so meek, That now I know there was an angel with her That cried Beware!" The same poem contains this picture of her as a wife and mother: "But he is gone, and all The fondest passages of wedded life And mutual fondling of their progeny, And hopes together felt, and prayers when both And early fruit, most holy and approved, Of their two darlings, sinks in voiceless night, And is no more." -The Poems of Hartley Coleridge, vol. ii, p. 178. The married life of Mrs. Coleridge (if it be not intrusive to make the comment) was rich in the best elements of conjugal happiness wedded to a gentleman of high moral worth, and of fine mind and scholarship-one who blended literature with his professional pursuits-she was not exposed to the perils of intellectual superiority. The marriage was blest with the birth of two children -a son and daughter-and the mother was too wise and gentle "to permit" (to borrow a phrase of her own, elsewhere applied) "the interests of intellectual pursuit to override those of the affections." The married life of Mrs. Coleridge was indeed exemplary and admirable, especially in this, that no sense of endowment of genius, or of learning, or of conversational and epistolary talent-no ambition of authorship or of distinction in the cultiva ted society she was familiar with in the metropolis-tempted her away from the paths of domestic life, wherein she found her duty and delight. It was in such duty that Mrs. Coleridge's next publication had its origin. When her first work appeared in print, a maidenly modesty had kept her name in seclusion, and the simple little volume entitled, "Pretty Lessons for Little Children," was her first acknowledged act of authorship: this was characteristic; it was a mother's work which might be avowed with matronly modesty, and it shows to what humble service genius and high scholarship can gracefully descend. The volume, which has gone through several editions, consists of short pieces of poetry addressed to her son and daughter, partly for moral guidance, and partly for instruction in the Latin vocabulary and other elementary subjects. It is interesting to trace the fruits of the mother's zeal in the recent academic success of the son, who within the last few weeks has gained the highest honors in the University of Oxford-the name of Herbert Coleridge appearing as that of what is styled "a double first-class man,"―the highest rank of scholarship, both in classics and the mathematical sciences. It is sad to observe that the mother did not live to enjoy this recompense of a mother's care and promise of the son's future reputation: his Oxford honors were conferred about a month after her death. In 1837, Mrs. Coleridge published the fairy tale, "Phantasmion," of which the Quarterly Review said: "This beautiful romance is not a poem, but it is poetry from beginning to end, and has many poems within it. It is one of a race that has par |