Poetry of Life; in 1848, The Sunday-School, and other Poems; and in 1849, Late and Early Poems. While engaged in the preparation of a new volume, he fell a victim to the epidemic then prevailing in Boston,-the cholera,—on the 19th of June, 1849. His death was deeply and widely lamented; for it was felt that a good man, who was devoting to the cause of sacred literature the high gift God had given him, had been taken away in the midst of his usefulness. "With the simplicity of a child, he combined the polish and dignity of the Christian gentleman; with the glowing fancy of the poet, the lowly spirit of the saint; with the severest scrutiny of his own heart, the largest charity for others." The following pieces will give some idea of the pure and elevated Christian feeling that pervades his poetry. THERE IS AN HOUR OF PEACEFUL REST. There is an hour of peaceful rest, To mourning wanderers given; There is a soft, a downy bed, Far from these shades of even; There is a home for weary souls, By sin and sorrow driven, When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals, There Faith lifts up her cheerful eye, And views the tempest passing by, There fragrant flowers, immortal, bloom, GETHSEMANE. 'Tis midnight, and on Olive's brow 'Tis midnight, and, from all removed, Heeds not his Master's grief and tears. 'Tis midnight, and for others' guilt 'Tis midnight, from the heavenly plains WHY SHOULD WE SIGH? Why should we sigh, when Fancy's dream,- To cheer the lonely waste of years? Why should we sigh that earth no more And those that ask'd our tears in this, FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. THIS well-known poet was born at Guilford, Connecticut, in August, 1795. In 1813, he entered a banking-house in New York, and remained in that city engaged in mercantile pursuits till 1849, when he returned to Connecticut, where he now resides. At an early age he showed a taste for poetry; but he first attracted public attention by a series of humorous and satirical odes published in the "Evening Post," in 1819, and written in conjunction with his friend Drake, with the signature of "Croaker." Towards the close of the same year, he published Fanny, the longest of his satirical poems, which passed through several editions. In 1823, he went to Europe, and after his return, in 1827, he published a small volume containing, among other pieces, Alnwick Castle, and that spirited, finished, and justly-admired ode, Marco Bozzaris,-the corner-stone of his glory. In 1847, Appleton & Co. published a beautifully-illustrated edition of all he had then written; and in 1852 a volume containing additional poems was published by Redfield. It has always been regretted by the public that one who writes so well should have written so little.2 MARCO BOZZARIS.3 At midnight, in his guarded tent, In dreams, through camp and court he bore In dreams, his song of triumph heard; Then pressed that monarch's throne-a king; As Eden's garden bird. At midnight, in the forest shades, BOZZARIS ranged his Suliote band, There had the Persian's thousands stood, And now there breathed that haunted air As quick, as far as they. An hour pass'd on-the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last; This year (1859) has appeared a new edition of his poems, in one small volume, in blue and gold, published by Appleton & Co. 2" Mr. Halleck has written very little, but that little is of great excellence. His poetry is polished and graceful, and finished with great care under the guidance of a fastidious taste. A vein of sweet and delicate sentiment runs through all his serious productions, and he combines with this a power of humor of the most refined and exquisite cast. He has the art of passing from grave to gay, or the reverse, by the most skilful and happily-managed transitions."-G. S. HILLARD. "The poems of Fitz-Greene Halleck, although limited in quantity, are perhaps the best known and most cherished, especially in the latitude of New York, of all American verses. All his verses have a vital meaning, and the clear ring of pure metal. They are few, but memorable. The school-boy and the old Knickerbocker' both know them by heart. Burns, and the Lines on the Death of Drake.* have the beautiful impressiveness of the highest elegiac verse. Marco Bozzaris is perhaps the best martial lyric in the language, Red Jacket the most effective Indian portrait, and Twilight an apt piece of contemplative verse; while Ainwick Castle combines his grave and gay style with inimitable art and admirable effect. As a versifier, he is an adept in that relation of sound to sense which embalms thought in deathless melody."-HENRY T. TUCKERMAN. 3 He fell in an attack upon the Turkish camp at Lapsi, the site of the ancient Platea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. The modern Greeks, like the Italians, pronounce a as in father, and zz like tz. This hero's name, therefore, is pronounced Bot-zah'ri. * See p. 400. He woke to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek." "Strike-till the last arm'd foe expires; They fought,-like brave men, long and well; Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won: Then saw in death his eyelids close Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal chamber, Death! That close the pestilence are broke, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; The thanks of millions yet to be. Of sky and stars to prison'd men: To the world-seeking Genoese, When the land-wind, from woods of palm, BOZZARIS! with the storied brave, She wore no funeral weeds for thee, Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, The heartless luxury of the tomb: But she remembers thee as one Talk of thy doom without a sigh: BURNS. TO A ROSE, BROUGHT FROM NEAR ALLOWAY KIRK, IN AYRSHIRE, IN THE AUTUMN OF 1822. Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks: Thou 'mindst me of that autumn noon Like thine, beneath the thorn-tree's bough, And will not thy death-doom be mine The doom of all things wrought of clay And wither'd my life's leaf like thine, |