those master-spirits which guide the present age, have given birth to a
species of poetry more legitimate and useful in its design, and more
valuable in its tendencies and characteristics. Instead of the "namby
pamby" verses of the period I have alluded to, and the coarse scurrility
of style which runs with a discolouring vein through the satirical pages
of Dr. Wolcot, we have now the heart-stirring metres of a Campbell, as
in that beautiful rainbow of poetic loveliness and imagination, his
"Pleasures of Hope." We have now a series of pictures bearing an impress
as pleasant as the gleams of warm autumn in the "Pleasures of Memory,"
by Rogers; the wildness of Loutherbourgh, the grandeur of Salvator Rosa,
the terror-striking forms of Fuseli, embodied with increased energy in
the immortal Lays of Byron: the every-day incidents of life, copied with
the graphic fidelity of a Sharp, and bearing the faithful stamp of
cottage grouping, which distinguished the pencil of a Morland,--in the
natural paintings of Crabbe. We have Catullus stealing from his couch,
to breathe a new intonation into the harp of Moore; and last of all, we
have the votaress of virtue and moral feeling, the Cambrian minstrel,
Mrs. Hemans, making melancholy appear as delightful as love.

_The Author of a Tradesman's Lays._

* * * * *


STANZAS FOR MUSIC.


Though the waves of old Time are darkly advancing,
There still is one spot where the sunbeams are glancing,
There glow the gay visions of youth's sunny morn,