Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Till nothing remains but a faint rosy hue,
Just mingling in with a fainter blue.

The shadows of twilight are closing around,
Not a murmur is heard but the cricket's sound,
And pensive thoughts o'er my heart-strings creep
As the "unvoiced" breezes around me sweep.
'Tis a tranquil hour, and I lazily lie,
Gazing up at my ease on the delicate sky,
With the sombre light on my dim page playing,

And my pen through its numberless labyrinths straying.
How gentle the spell of this exquisite hour!

How soothing, how sweet its mysterious power!
It steals o'er my heart, like a breeze o'er the lake,
Each half-buried accent of music to wake.
The kitten beside me hath fled from its play,
And close in my bosom is nestling away;
And the trembling leaf, and the bending flower,
And the insect millions acknowledge its power.
How the fancy will fly from the present, and roam
O'er each corner of earth 'neath heaven's high dome!
Perchance, like myself, you may cloud-gazing be;
Perchance, my sweet friend, you are thinking of me,
And this scene, like a beautiful image of rest,
Has awakened the same delicate chords in
And perchance-how provoking!-that twinkling lamp-night
Hath dissolved with its brilliance my dreams of delight,
Hath deepen'd to blackness the mantle of gray,

And chased all my beautiful visions away.

your

So it is-they have fled—and again I descend

breast;

To converse upon every-day themes with my friend;

But the end of my paper convinces me still

That I soon must release thee, my trusty goosequill;

Though my breast and my head are yet aching to write,
I must bid you, dear Hetty, a loving good night,

If your ears are not tired of the jingling of rhyme,
I will finish my musical letter next time;

In the meanwhile, believe me sincerely to be
Your affectionate scribbler,

Ballston, 1838.

LINES

MARGARET M. D.

ON SEEING SOME FRAGMENTS FROM THE TOMB OF VIRGIL.

HAVE these gray relics, crumbling into dust,
Once rested 'neath Italia's burning sky?

Has this cold remnant of what once was stone,
Reflected back her warm cerulean dye?

Have these white fragments rested o'er the sod
Hallow'd by virgil's ever-sacred clay?

And have they mingled with the grass-grown mound
Which o'er the classic hero's bosom lay?

Perhaps the crumbling stones beside me now
Fell from the mouldering marble at his head-
The icy tomb which hides his noble brow,
For ever hallow'd by the mighty dead.

In fancy o'er Italia's fields I roam,
In fancy view the poet's lowly grave,
Round which, as I in silent sorrow bend,
The flowering myrtle and the cypress wave.
[Unfinished.]

1838.

A SHORT SKETCH

OF THE MOST IMPORTANT IDEAS CONTAINED IN COUSIN'S " INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY."

ACCORDING to Cousin, there are three elements of consciousness, three first ideas of the infinite, the finite and their relations succeeding each other in the above order. He believes that as the history of an individual such is the history of mankind in general; that as there are three fundamental ideas there must be three epochs of the world to develope those ideas. As the first idea is that of the infinite, the first age of the world will express this idea in its laws, its arts, its religion, and its philosophy: this will predominate. When fully developed, the idea of the finite will succeed; action, variety, and liberty will take the place of slavery and immobility; man will begin to find himself. All the elements of his nature will be brought into action, although still subjected to the predominating principle. When this is exhausted, in its turn the idea of the relations between the finite and the infinite will come; man will join these two great principles; every element will assume its proper station without asserting undue authority over the others; man will at once generalize and particularize; and as this is the highest developement of the ideas of humanity, this epoch will be the last. After giving this expansive view of man and his destination, he proceeds to show that different climates and countries are destined for the development of different ideas; that the idea of the infinite must necessarily prevail in a large continent surrounded by vast seas, traversed by inaccessible mountains, and divided by immense deserts, with a burning and enervating climate, where every thing leads to and expresses the idea of the vast, the absolute, the infinite: such a country is Asia. On the contrary, the idea of the finite will occupy a smaller country, intersected by rivers affording every facility of inland communication and commerce, surrounded by small seas, inviting the inhabitants to intercourse with neighbouring nations, and filled with beautiful and diversified scenery, all bearing the impress of the finite, urging to action and enterprise, and devoid of that solemn and sombre unity of expression which prevailed in its parent epoch: such a country is Greece. That position of the world destined for the developement of the last and most perfect epoch, must unite the two great external features of the former countries, as it is to assist in expressing the two great ideas in perfect unison with each other. It must combine the sublime with the beautiful, every advantage of internal commerce and high civilization with a manifest appearance of magnitude and duration; it must possess a perfect and minute individuality with a great and striking general character; a vast continent surrounded with vast oceans, containing mighty rivers and inland seas, broad prairies, and long

ranges of mountains, together with fertile valleys and streams, and all the minor qualities of a rich and magnificent country, containing facilities for the minutest internal improvements, guided and governed by a lofty and abstract spirit of generalization-thus uniting the relative and the absolute, the finite and the infinite! such a country is America. He then proceeds to speak of war, its causes, and its effects. He considers it not only beneficial but necessary. War is a combat of ideas. Underneath the great and prominent idea of an epoch there exist minor elements in a nation, as in an individual: one people expresses one element, one idea; another seizes upon and developes a second: these truths elevate themselves against each other and combat-hence war. When one of these ideas is exhausted, it is opposed and superseded by a newer and a better one--hence conquest. One idea and one nation make room for another idea and another nation; one epoch is destroyed, and another arises. Mark the benefits of war: had it never existed there had been but one era of the world, and humanity could never have progressed. He then proceeds to justify conquests. He considers that the event proves the right; that when a newer and nobler spirit rises against an exhausted one, that spirit must conquer, and ought to conquer. He does not believe in absolute error; he believes every error is a part of truth, and raised to an undeserved superiority among the elements of humanity. [Unfinished.]

1838.

BRIEF NOTES FROM COUSIN'S PHILOSOPHY,

MADE DURING THE WINTER OF 1838.

His first position is this: as soon as man receives consciousness he is surrounded by objects in a world hostile to himself, but by exertion and developement of his power, he has conquered and modified matter, and has, as it were impressed with his image and rendered it subservient to his will. The first man who overcame any obstacles in the way of his desires created industry, and the first who measured the slightest space around him or united the objects before him, introduced the science of mathematics. All these, mathematics, physics, and political economy, have one object, utility or the useful; but there are other relations in which men stand to each other, besides those of hurtful or useful, the just and the unjust. Upon the idea of the useful, man altered the external appearance of nature; upon the idea of justice he created a new society, maintaining their own rights, and respecting the rights of others. But man goes further: besides the hurtful or the useful, the just or the unjust, he has inherent in his nature the idea of the beautiful and its opposite. Impressed with this idea, man seizes, developes, and purifies it in his thought, until he finds that thought superior to the object which presented it. Every thing that is beautiful in nature is also imperfect, and fades when compared with the idea it awakens. Thus, man not only reforms nature and society by industry and the laws of justice, but also remodels those objects which present to him the idea of beauty, and renders them more beautiful than ever. But man is not yet satisfied-he looks beyond the world of industry and arts, and conceives God. idea of God as separate from the world, but scarcely himself in it, is natural religion; but he does not rest there; he creates another world, in which he perceives nothing but its relation to God, the world of * he expands and elevates the sentiment of religion. Philosophy succeeds. Philosophy is the developement of thought; it may be good or bad, but in itself it is demanded by the mind as much as religion, the sciences, &c. Cousin proves this position by a rapid examination of the wants of man

*

*

*

*

The

LENORE.

A POEM.

INTRODUCTION.

WHY should I sing? The scenes which roused
The bards of old, arouse no more;
The reign of poesy hath pass'd,

And all her glowing dreams are o'er!
Why should I sing? A thousand harps
Have touch'd the self-same chords before,
Of love, and hate, and lofty pride,
And fields of battle bathed in gore!
Why should I seek the burning fount

From whence their glowing fancies sprung?

My feeble muse can only sing

What other, nobler bards have sung!
Thus did I breathe my sad complaint,
As, bending o'er my silent lyre,
I sigh'd for some romantic theme
Its slumbering music to inspire.

Scarce had I spoke, when o'er my soul
A low reproving whisper came;
My heart instinctive shrank with awe,

And conscience tinged my cheek with shame.
"Down with thy vain, repining thoughts,
Nor dare to breathe those thoughts again,
Or endless sleep shall bind thy lyre,
And scorn repel thy bursting strain!
"What though a thousand bards have sung
The charms of earth, of air, or sky!
A thousand minstrels, old and young,
Pour'd forth their varied melody!

"What though, inspired, they stoop'd to drink At Fancy's fountain o'er and o'er! Say, feeble warbler, dost thou think The glowing streamlet flows no more? "Because a nobler hand has cull'd

The loveliest of our earthly flowers,

Dost thou believe that all of bloom
Hath fled those bright, poetic bowers!
"Know then, that long as earth shall roll,
Revolving 'neath yon azure sky,
Music shall charm each purer soul,

And Fancy's fount shall never dry!

[graphic]

"Long as the rolling seasons change,
And nature holds her empire here;
Long as the human eye can range
O'er yon pure heaven's expanded sphere;
"Long as the ocean's broad expanse
Lies spread beneath yon broader sky;
Long as the playful moonbeams dance,
Like fairy forms, on billows high;
"So long, unbound by mortal chain,
Shall genius spread her soaring wing;
So long the pure poetic fount,

Uncheck'd, unfetter'd, on shall spring.
"Thou say'st the days of song have past,
The glowing days of wild romance,
When war pour'd out his clarion blast,
And valour bow'd at beauty's glance!

"When every hour that onward sped,
Was fraught with some bewildering tale;
When superstition's shadowy hand
O'er trembling nations cast her veil!
"Thou say'st that life's unvaried stream
In peaceful ripples wears away;
And years produce no fitting theme
To rouse the poet's slumbering lay.

"Not so, while yet the hand of God

Each year adorns his teeming earth;

While dew-drops deck the verdant sod,

And birds, and bees, and flowers have birth;

"While every day unfolds anew

Some charm to meet the searching eye;

While buds of every varying hue

Are bursting 'neath a summer sky.

""Tis true that war's unsparing hand

Hath ceased to bathe our fields in gore; That hate hath quench'd his burning brand, And tyrant princes reign no more.

"But dost thou think that scenes like these Form all the poetry of life?

Would thy untutor'd muse delight

In scenes of rapine, blood, and strife?

"No-there are boundless fields of thought,
Where roving spirits never soar'd;
Which wildest fancy never sought,
Or boldest intellect explored!

"Then bow not silent o'er thy lyre,

But tune its chords to nature's praise;

At every turn thine eye shall meet
Fit themes to form a poet's lays.

« VorigeDoorgaan »