The Poems of Felicia Hemans
There may the mother, as with anxious joy
To heaven her lessons consecrate her boy,
Teach his young accent still the immortal lays
Of Zion’s bards, in inspiration’s days,
When angels, whispering through the cedar shade,
Prophetic tones to Judah’s harp convey’d;
And as, her soul all glistening in her eyes,
She bids the prayer of infancy arise,
Tell of His name who left his throne on high,
Earth’s lowliest lot to bear and sanctify,
His love divine, by keenest anguish tried,
And fondly say--“My child, for thee He died!”
[136] “The poem of The Sceptic, published in 1820, was one in which her
revered friend[137] took a peculiar interest. It had been her original
wish to dedicate it to him, but he declined the tribute, thinking it
might be more advantageous to her to pay this compliment to Mr Gifford,
with whom she was at that time in frequent correspondence, and who
entered very warmly into her literary undertakings, discussing them
with the kindness of an old friend, and desiring her to command frankly
whatever assistance his advice or experience could afford. Mrs Hemans,
in the first instance, consented to adopt the suggestion regarding
the altered dedication; but was afterwards deterred from putting it
into execution, by a fear that it might be construed into a manœuvre
to propitiate the good graces of the _Quarterly Review_; and from the
slightest approach to any such mode of propitiation, her sensitive
nature recoiled with almost fastidious delicacy.”--_Memoir_, p. 31.
“One of the first notices of The Sceptic appeared in the _Edinburgh
Monthly Magazine_; and there is something in its tone so far more
valuable than ordinary praise, and at the same time so prophetic of
the happy influence her writings were one day to exercise, that the
introduction of the concluding paragraph may not be unwelcome to the
readers of this little memorial. After quoting from the poem, the
reviewer thus proceeds,--‘These extracts must, we think, convey to
every reader a favourable impression of the talents of their author,
and of the admirable purposes to which her high gifts are directed.
It is the great defect, as we imagine, of some of the most popular
writers of the day, that they are not sufficiently attentive to the
moral dignity of their performances; it is the deep, and will be the
lasting reproach of others, that in this point of view they have
wantonly sought and realised the most profound literary abasement.
With the promise of talents not inferior to any, and far superior
to most of them, the author before us is not only free from every
stain, but breathes all moral beauty and loveliness; and it will be a
memorable coincidence if the era of a woman’s sway in literature shall
become coeval with the return of its moral purity and elevation.’
From suffrages such as these, Mrs Hemans derived not merely present
gratification, but encouragement and cheer for her onward course.
It was still dearer to her to receive the assurances, with which it
often fell to her lot to be blessed, of having, in the exercise of
the talents intrusted to her, administered balm to the feelings of
the sorrowful, or taught the desponding where to look for comfort.
In a letter written at this time to a valued friend, recently
visited by one of the heaviest of human calamities--the loss of an
exemplary mother--she thus describes her own appreciation of such
heart-tributes:--‘It is inexpressibly gratifying to me to know, that
you should find any thing I have written at all adapted to your present
feelings, and that The Sceptic should have been one of the last books
upon which the eyes, now opened upon brighter scenes, were cast.
Perhaps, when your mind is sufficiently composed, you will inform me
which were the passages distinguished by the approbation of that pure
and pious mind: they will be far more highly valued by me than any
thing I have ever written.’--_Ibid._ pp. 334-4.
“It is pleasing to record the following tribute from Mrs Hannah More,
in a letter to a friend who had sent her a copy of The Sceptic. ‘I
cannot refuse myself the gratification of saying, that I entertain a
very high opinion of Mrs Hemans’s superior genius and refined taste. I
rank her, as a poet, very high, and I have seen no work on the subject
of her _Modern Greece_ which evinces more just views, or more delicate
perceptions of the fine and the beautiful. I am glad she has employed
her powerful pen, in this new instance, on a subject so worthy of it;
and, anticipating the future by the past, I promise myself no small
pleasure in the perusal, and trust it will not only confer pleasure,
but benefit.’”--_Ibid._
[137] Dr Luxmoore, Bishop of St Asaph.
[138] “He is patient, because He is eternal.”--St Augustine.
[139] “Then ye shall appoint you cities, to be cities of refuge
for you; that the slayer may flee thither which killeth any person
at unawares.--And they shall be unto you cities of refuge from the
avenger.”--_Numbers_, chap. xxxv.
[140] “Every man in the chambers of his imagery.”--_Ezekiel_, chap.
viii.
[141] “Thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung
them out.”--_Isaiah_, chap. li.
[142] “And behold the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent
the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but
the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but
the Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire;
but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small
voice.”--_Kings_, book i. chap. 19.
[143] The Princess Charlotte.
[144] “And set up a sign of fire.”--_Jeremiah_, chap. vi.
[What follows is worthy of being here recorded. Thirteen years after
the publication of the Sceptic, and when the author, towards the
termination of her earthly career, was residing with her family in
Dublin, a circumstance occurred by which Mrs Hemans was greatly
affected and impressed. A stranger one day called at her house, and
begged earnestly to see her. She was then just recovering from one
of her frequent illnesses, and was obliged to decline the visits of
all but her immediate friends. The applicant was therefore told that
she was unable to receive him; but he persisted in entreating for a
few minutes’ audience, with such urgent importunity that at last the
point was conceded. The moment he was admitted, the gentleman (for
such his manner and appearance declared him to be) explained, in words
and tones of the deepest feeling, that the object of his visit was to
acknowledge a debt of obligation which he could not rest satisfied
without avowing--that to her he owed, in the first instance, that
faith and those hopes which were now more precious to him than life
itself; for that it was by reading her poem of The Sceptic he had
been first awakened from the miserable delusions of infidelity, and
induced to “search the Scriptures.” Having poured forth his thanks and
benedictions in an uncontrollable gush of emotion, this strange but
interesting visitant took his departure, leaving her overwhelmed with
a mingled sense of joyful gratitude and wondering humility.--_Memoir_,
p. 255-6.]
CRITICAL EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS.
_North American Review._--“In 1820 Mrs Hemans published The Sceptic,
a poem of great merit for its style and its sentiments, of which we
shall give a rapid sketch. She considers the influence of unbelief on
the affections and gentler part of our nature, and, after pursuing
the picture of the misery consequent on doubt, shows the relief that
may be found in the thoughts that have their source in immortality.
Glancing at pleasure as the only resort of the sceptic, she turns to
the sterner tasks of life:--
‘E’en youth’s brief hours
Survive the beauty of their loveliest flowers;
The soul’s pure flame the breath of storms must fan,
And pain and sorrow claim their nursling--Man.’
But then the sceptic has no relief in memory; for memory recalls no
joys but such as were transitory, and known to be such; and as for
hope--
‘She, who like heaven’s own sunbeam, smiles for all,
Will she speak comfort?--Thou hast shorn her plume,
That might have raised thee far above the tomb,
And hush’d the only voice whose angel-tone
Soothes when all melodies of joy are flown.’
“The poet then asks, if an infidel dare love; and, having no home
for his thoughts in a better world, nurse such feelings as delight
to enshrine themselves in the breast of a parent. She addresses him
on the insecurity of an attachment to a vain idol, from which death
may at any time divide him ‘_for ever_.’... For relief the infidel
is referred to the Christian religion, in a strain which unites the
fervour of devotion with poetic sensibility.... The poem proceeds to
depict, in a forcible manner, the unfortunate state of a mind which
acquires every kind of knowledge but that which gives salvation; and,
having gained possession of the secrets of all ages, and communed with
the majestic minds that shine along the pathway of time, neglects
nothing but eternity. Such a one, in the season of suffering, finds
relief in suicide, and escapes to death as to an eternal rest. The
thought of death recurs to the mind of the poet, and calls forth a
fervent prayer for the divine presence and support in the hour of
dissolution; for the hour, when the soul is brought to the mysterious
verge of another life, is an ‘awful one.’... This is followed by an
allusion to the strong love of life which belongs to human nature, and
the instinctive apprehension with which the parting mind muses on its
future condition, and asks of itself mystic questions, that it cannot
solve. But through the influence of religion--
‘He whom the busy world shall miss no more
Than morn one dewdrop from her countless store,
Earth’s most neglected child, with trusting heart,
Call’d to the hope of glory, shall depart.’
“After some lines expressing the spirit of English patriotism, in a
manner with which foreigners can only be pleased, the poem closes
with the picture of a mother teaching her child the first lessons of
religion, by holding up the divine example of the Saviour.
“We have been led into a longer notice of this poem, for it
illustrates the character of Mrs Hemans’s manner. We perceive in it a
loftiness of purpose, an earnestness of thought, sometimes made more
interesting by a tinge of melancholy, a depth of religious feeling, a
mind alive to all the interests, gratifications, and sorrows of social
life.”--Professor Norton.
_Edinburgh Monthly Review._--“We have on more than one occasion
expressed the very high opinion which we entertain of the talents of
this lady; and it is gratifying to find that she gives us no reason
to retract or modify in any degree the applause already bestowed, and
that every fresh exhibition of her powers enhances and confirms her
claims upon our admiration. Mrs Hemans is indeed but in the infancy of
her poetical career; but it is an infancy of unrivalled beauty, and of
very high promise. Not but that she has already performed more than
has often been sufficient to win for other candidates no mean place in
the roll of fame, but because what she has already done shrinks, when
compared with what we consider to be her own great capacity, to mere
incipient excellence--the intimation rather than the fulfilment of the
high destiny of her genius.
... “The verses of Mrs Hemans appear the spontaneous offspring of
intense and noble feeling, governed by a clear understanding, and
fashioned into elegance by an exquisite delicacy and precision of
taste. With more than the force of many of her masculine competitors,