Praed has an exquisite poem, "Memory;" and we had nearly passed by a
song by Mr. T. Moore.
Alone beneath the moon I roved,
And thought how oft in hours gone by,
I heard my Mary say she loved
To look upon a moonlight sky!
The day had been one lengthened shower,
Till moonlight came, with lustre meek,
To light up every weeping flower,
Like smiles upon a mourner's cheek.
I called to mind from Eastern books
A thought that could not leave me soon:--
"The moon on many a night-flower looks,
The night-flower sees no other moon."
And thus I thought our fortune's run,
For many a lover sighs to thee;
While oh! I feel there is but _one_,
_One_ Mary in the world for me!
The illustrations are almost unexceptionably good; the _gems_ in this
way being Mrs. Siddons, as Lady Macbeth, by C. Rolls, after Harlowe: the
face is perhaps the most intellectual piece of engraving ever seen; the
sublime effect in so small a space is truly surprising. A Portrait, by
W. Danforth, after Leslie, ranks next; and the beauty and variety of the
remainder of the prints are so great as to prevent our _individualizing_
them to the reader. Taken altogether, they form one of the finest Annual
Galleries or Collections.
* * * * *
THE KEEPSAKE.
* * * * *
Without going into a dreamy discussion on the _literature_ of this work,
we venture to say it has rather retrograded from, than improved upon the
volume of last year.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25