The Poems of Felicia Hemans
castles, all perfectly alike; these again changed into towers, which
were shortly after lost in colonnades, then windows, and at last ended
in pines, cypresses, and other trees.”--Swinburne’s _Travels in the Two
Sicilies_.
[45] All sorts of purple and white flowers were supposed by the Greeks
to be acceptable to the dead, and used in adorning tombs; as amaranth,
with which the Thessalians decorated the tomb of Achilles.--Potter’s
_Antiquities of Greece_, vol. ii. p. 232.
[46] Pericles, on his return to Athens after the reduction of Samos,
celebrated in a splendid manner the obsequies of his countrymen who
fell in that war, and pronounced himself the funeral oration usual on
such occasions. This gained him great applause; and when he came down
from the rostrum the women paid their respects to him, and presented
him with crowns and chaplets, like a champion just returned victorious
from the lists.--Langhorne’s _Plutarch, Life of Pericles_.
[47] The peplus, which is supposed to have been suspended as an
awning over the statue of Minerva in the Parthenon, was a principal
ornament of the Panathenaic festival; and it was embroidered with
various colours, representing the battle of the gods and Titans, and
the exploits of Athenian heroes. When the festival was celebrated,
the peplus was brought from the Acropolis, and suspended as a sail
to the vessel, which on that day was conducted through the Ceramicus
and principal streets of Athens, till it had made the circuit of
the Acropolis. The peplus was then carried to the Parthenon, and
consecrated to Minerva.--See Chandler’s _Travels_, Stuart’s _Athens_,
&c.
[48] The gilding amidst the ruins of Persepolis is still, according to
Winckelmann, in high preservation.
[49] “In the most broken fragment, the same great principle of life
can be proved to exist, as in the most perfect figure,” is one of the
observations of Mr Haydon on the Elgin Marbles.
[50] “Every thing here breathes life, with a veracity, with an
exquisite knowledge of art, but without the least ostentation or parade
of it, which is concealed by consummate and masterly skill.”--Canova’s
_Letter to the Earl of Elgin_.
[51] Mr West, after expressing his admiration of the horse’s head in
Lord Elgin’s collection of Athenian sculpture, thus proceeds:--“We
feel the same, when we view the young equestrian Athenians, and, in
observing them, we are insensibly carried on with the impression that
they and their horses actually existed, as we see them, at the instant
when they were converted into marble.”--West’s _Second Letter to Lord
Elgin_.
[52] Mr Flaxman thinks that sculpture has very greatly improved within
these last twenty years, and that his opinion is not singular--because
works of such prime importance as the Elgin Marbles could not remain
in any country without a consequent improvement of the public taste,
and the talents of the artist.--See the _Evidence given in reply to
Interrogatories from the Committee on the Elgin Marbles_.
[53] The Theseus and Ilissus, which are considered by Sir T. Lawrence,
Mr Westmacott, and other distinguished artists, to be of a higher class
than the Apollo Belvidere, “because there is in them a union of very
grand form, with a more true and natural expression of the effect of
action upon the human frame than there is in the Apollo, or any of the
other more celebrated statues.”--See _The Evidence, &c._
[54] “Let us suppose a young man at this time in London, endowed with
powers such as enabled Michael Angelo to advance the arts, as he
did, by the aid of one mutilated specimen of Grecian excellence in
sculpture, to what an eminence might not such a genius carry art, by
the opportunity of studying those sculptures, in the aggregate, which
adorned the temple of Minerva at Athens?”--West’s _Second Letter to
Lord Elgin_.
[55] In allusion to the theories of Du Bos, Winckelmann, Montesquieu,
&c., with regard to the inherent obstacles in the climate of England to
the progress of genius and the arts.--See Hoare’s _Epochs of the Arts_,
p. 84, 85.
EXTRACTS FROM CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS.
_Blackwood’s Magazine._--“In our reviews of poetical productions, the
better efforts of genius hold out to us a task at once more useful and
delightful than those of inferior merit. In the former the beautiful
predominate, and expose while they excuse the blemishes. But the
public taste would receive no benefit from a detail of mediocrity,
relieved only by the censure of faults uncompensated by excellencies.
We have great pleasure in calling the attention of our readers to
the beautiful poem before us, which we believe to be the work of
the same lady who last year put her name to the second edition of
another poem on a kindred subject, ‘The Restoration of the Works of
Art to Italy’--namely, Mrs Hemans of North Wales. That the author’s
fame has not altogether kept pace with her merit, we are inclined to
think is a reproach to the public. Poetry is at present experiencing
the fickleness of fashion, and may be said to have had its day. Very
recently, the _reading_ public, as the phrase is, was immersed in
poetry, but seems to have had enough; and, excepting always that
portion of it who are found to relish genuine poetry on its own
intrinsic account, and will never tire of the exquisite enjoyment
which it affords, the said public seldom read poetry at all.
* * * * *
“But so little is that excitement which the bulk of readers covet
necessarily connected with poetry, that these readers have tired even
of romances in a metrical form, and are regarding all their late
rhythmical favourites alike, with that sort of ingratitude with which
repletion would lead them to regard a banquet when the dishes are
removing from the table. But this is no proof that these great poets
have forfeited their title to be admired. They are fixed orbs, which
stand just where they did, and shine just as they were wont, although
they seem to decline to the world, which revolves the opposite way.
But if the world will turn from the poet, whatever be his merit, there
is an end of his popularity, inasmuch as the most approved conductor
of the latter is the multitude, as essentially as is the air of the
sound of his voice. Profit will also fail from the lack of purchasers;
and poetry, high as it may intrinsically seem, must fall, commercially
speaking, to its ancient proverbially unprofitable level. Yet poetry
will still be poetry, however it may cease _to pay_; and although
the acclaim of multitudes is one thing, and the still small voice of
genuine taste and feeling another, the nobler incense of the latter
will ever be its reward.
“Our readers will now cease to wonder that an author like the present,
who has had no higher aim than to regale the imagination with imagery,
warm the heart with sentiment and feeling, and delight the ear with
music, without the foreign aid of tale or fable, has hitherto written
to a select few, and passed almost unnoticed by the multitude.
“With the exception of Lord Byron, who has made the theme peculiarly
his own, no one has more feelingly contrasted ancient with modern
Greece.
“The poem on the Restoration of the Louvre Collection, has, of course,
more allusions to ancient Rome; and nothing can be more spirited than
the passages in which the author invokes for modern Rome the return
of her ancient glories. In a cursory but graphic manner, some of the
most celebrated of the ancient statues are described. Referring our
readers, with great confidence, to the works themselves, our extracts
may be limited.”
_Edinburgh Monthly Review._--“The grand act of retribution--the
restoration of the treasures of the Louvre--occasioned Mrs Hemans’
first publication. ‘Modern Greece’ next appeared, and soared still
higher into the regions of beauty and pathos. It is a highly promising
symptom, that each new effort of her genius excels its predecessor.
The present volume strikingly confirms this observation, and leads
us to think that we have yet seen no more than the trials of her
strength.”
TRANSLATIONS FROM CAMOENS, AND OTHER POETS.
“Siamo nati veramente in un secolo in cui gl’ingegni e gli studj degli
uomini sono rivolti all’ utilità. L’Agricoltura, le Arti, il Commercio
acquistano tutto dì novi lumi dalle ricerche de’ Saggi; e il voler
farsi un nome _tentando di dilettare_, quand’ altri v’aspira con più
giustizia giovando, sembra impresa dura e difficile.”--Savioli.
SONNET 70.
“Na metade do ceo subido ardia.”
High in the glowing heavens, with cloudless beam,
The sun had reach’d the zenith of his reign,
And for the living fount, the gelid stream,
Each flock forsook the herbage of the plain:
Midst the dark foliage of the forest shade,
The birds had shelter’d from the scorching ray;
Hush’d were their melodies--and grove and glade
Resounded but the shrill cicada’s lay:
When, through the grassy vale, a love-lorn swain,
To seek the maid who but despised his pain,
Breathing vain sighs of fruitless passion, roved:
“Why pine for her,” the slighted wanderer cried,
“By whom thou art not loved?” and thus replied
An echo’s murmuring voice--“_Thou art not loved!_”
SONNET 282.
FROM PSALM CXXXVII.
“Na ribeira de Euprates assentado.”
Wrapt in sad musings, by Euphrates’ stream
I sat, retracing days for ever flown,
While rose thine image on the exile’s dream,
O much-loved Salem! and thy glories gone:
When they who caused the ceaseless tears I shed,
Thus to their captive spoke--“Why sleep thy lays?
Sing of thy treasures lost, thy splendour fled,
And all thy triumphs in departed days!
Know’st thou not Harmony’s resistless charm
Can soothe each passion, and each grief disarm?
Sing then, and tears will vanish from thine eye.”
With sighs I answer’d,--“When the cup of woe
Is fill’d, till misery’s bitter draught o’erflow,
The mourner’s cure is not to sing--but die.”
PART OF ECLOGUE 15.
“Se lá no assento da maior alteza.”
If in thy glorious home above
Thou still recallest earthly love,
If yet retain’d a thought may be
Of him whose heart hath bled for thee;
Remember still how deeply shrined
Thine image in his joyless mind:
Each well-known scene, each former care,
Forgotten--thou alone art there!
Remember that thine eye-beam’s light
Hath fled for ever from his sight,
And, with that vanish’d sunshine, lost
Is every hope he cherish’d most.
Think that his life, from thee apart,
Is all but weariness of heart;
Each stream, whose music once was dear,
Now murmurs discord to his ear.
Through thee, the morn, whose cloudless rays
Woke him to joy in other days,
Now, in the light of beauty drest,
Brings but new sorrows to his breast.
Through thee, the heavens are dark to him,
The sun’s meridian blaze is dim;
And harsh were e’en the bird of eve,
But that her song still loves to grieve.
All it hath been, his heart forgets,
So alter’d by its long regrets;
Each wish is changed, each hope is o’er,
And joy’s light spirit wakes no more.
SONNET 271.
“A formosura desta fresca serra.”
This mountain-scene with sylvan grandeur crown’d,
These chestnut-woods, in summer verdure bright;
These founts and rivulets, whose mingling sound
Lulls every bosom to serene delight;
Soft on these hills the sun’s declining ray;
This clime, where all is new; these murmuring seas;
Flocks, to the fold that bend their lingering way;
Light clouds, contending with the genial breeze;