GRACE DARLING.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE SPECTATOR.
Hampstead, 3d November 1842.
Sin—if you think "the short and simple annals of the poor" may be en- larged for the insertion of the following fourteen lines to the memory of a woman who would have had at least an oak-leaved crown bestowed on her by a nation whose hearts were not of oak, their access to your respected and fa- miliar columns will gratify one who, independently of being " your constant reader," "great admirer," and all that, positively believes the young heroine's death was and is felt by the public almost as much as that of "the illustrious statesman," Lord WELLESLEY, of whom the many journals have been so full of late as to reveal some hollowness, according to the apprehension of, "Grace Darling's dead!" 1 beard the tale from one
Whose manly voice while telling it sank low, Sufferingly to a reverential tone, Such as nought draws from him but worth or wo, And generosity that breaks the blow. Type of the British heart I which still shall turn With sadden'd pride and brotherly emotion
Towards her whose name, though ne'er it grace an urn,
Shall oft be heard 'mid sighs of wind and ocean, Raising the spirit of her own devotion,
Where 'twill avail again, as erst, to save :
For there was in thy virtue, more than Roman, Artlessly brave, self-sacrificing woman !
That which shall gain new life even from thine early grave!
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