THE POETICAL SKETCH-BOOK.* MR. T. K. HERVEY first became known
to the world as an editor of one of the Albums; a task which, to the best of our recollection, he. performed with discretion and taste. The small poems which he in- troduced from his own pen were of a kind to be creditable to himself' and his compilation. He has ventured now to stand alone. The, Poetical Sketch-book is a volume of occasional poems, which will not disgrace the author, but which are not likely to extend the reputation of the name of HERVEY beyond a very brief period: we conceive that they may outlast this fitful summer. The praise of Mr. HERVEY is that his verses are tender, amiable,. and inoffensive : their fault is that they are deficient in ideas, and are, not strong in the articles of rhythm and rhime—they are of the old heart and impart genus of verse. Yet we can conceive many affectionate dis- positions, many simple and benevolent natures, taking pleasure in his compositions; for he speaks only of gentle sorrows and transitory joys;. his scenery is placid, his thoughts are calm, and his wishes and inten- tions evidently amiable and beneficent. He is one half a poet he hag the poet's heart, but he lacks his head to conceive, his passion's: to agitate. Alre select as an agreeable type of the genius of Mr. T. K. HERVEY, the stanzas entitled
YOU REMEMBER TUE MAID.
"You remember the maid with her dark-brown hair,
And her brow, where the finger of beauty Had written her name, and had stamped it there, Till it made adoration a duty ! And you have not forgot how we watched with delight Each charm, as a new one was given, Till she grew in our eyes to a vision of light, . And we thought her a spirit from heaven I "And your heart can recall—and mine often goes back, With a sigh and a tear, to—the hours When we gazed on her form, as she followed the track Of the butterfly's wing through the flowers ;- When, in her young joy, she would smile with delight, On its plumage of mingling dyes, Till she let it go free,—and looked after its flight, To see if it entered the skies !
"But she wandered away from the home of her youth, One spring, ere the roses were blown For she fancied the world was a temple of truth, And she measured all hearts by her own !- She fed on a vision and lived on a dream, And she followed it over the wave ; And she sought—where the moon has a milder gfeanr„ For a home,—and they gave her a grave !
"There was one whom she loved, though she breathed it to none, —For love of her soul was a part !— And he said he loved her, but he left her alone, , With the worm of despair omher.hearti. And oh I with What anguish we counted, each day, The roses that died on her cheek, And hung o'er her form, as it faded away, • And wept for the beautiful wreck !
"Yet her eye was as mild and as blue to the last, Though shadows stole over its beam ;
And her smiles are remembered—since long they are past—
Like the smiles we have seen in a dream !
And—it may be that fancy had woven a spell, But—I think, though her tones were as clear, They were somewhat more soft, and their murmurings fell • Like a dirge on the listening ear!
"And, while sorrow threw round her a holier grace,
—Though she always was gentle and kind—
Yet I thought that the softness which stole o'er her face Had a softening power on her mind !— But it might he her looks and her tones were more dear,. And we valued them more in decay, As we treasure the last fading flower of the year, —For we felt she was passing away "She never complained,—but she loved to the last I And the tear in her beautiful eye Often told that her thoughts were gone back to the past, And the youth who had left her to die!
—But mercy came down, and the maid is at rest, Where the palm-tree sighs o'er her at even ; And the dew that weeps over the turf on her breast, Is the tear of a far-foreign heaven !"
*The Poetical Sketch-book, includistg Australia. By T. K. Hervey. London, 1829 0.
Previous page
