Chapter LXII: Appendix: Criticisms on Miscellaneous Poems (2)

“Thus religion, by making man of more worth to man, and by strengthening our assurance in each other’s sympathy and virtue, has called forth affections which lay folded up in our nature, or had put forth only a stinted growth. The finer productions of modern poetry are coloured throughout with expressions of their beauty and strength. Moral qualities, good or bad, as they exist in men, unformed directly or indirectly by religion, owe their strength principally to impulse and passion, or depend, like the inconsistent hospitality of the Arab, or the pride of the Roman, on what he thought the glory of his country, upon prejudices which spring partly from generous feelings and partly from selfish regards, and are made strong and binding upon the individual by universal consent. It is only when quickened by religious sentiment, that the human character displays all its complicated variety of feelings. Then affections, which had before seemed almost powerless, become essential elements of our being. Associations, till then unknown, link together their invisible chains; and the feeling with which they thrill us when touched, presents a new phenomenon in our nature. The love of our youthful home may seem to us an universal sentiment, likely to appear in the poetry of all times; yet how little reference to it do we find in any poetry before our own age, and especially how little reference, like the following, to its moral power!

‘“Hast thou come with the heart of thy childhood back,
The free, the pure, the kind?”
--So murmur’d the trees in my homeward track,
As they play’d to the mountain-wind.

“Hath thy soul been true to its early love?”
Whisper’d my native streams;
“Hath the spirit, nursed amidst hill and grove,
Still revered its first high dreams?”’ etc.

“It is under the continued influence of Christianity, however imperfect that influence may have been, that the human character, which had before manifested itself partially and irregularly in the rudeness and inconsistency of its elementary passions, has begun to struggle toward its full development. It has become alive to feelings, and is putting forth powers, which belong to its immortal nature. We may perceive this unfolding of man in the very structure of language, which, enlarged as it has been with new terms, yet presents so imperfect a means for expressing the different qualities and shades of character, and the modes and combinations of feeling. The study of human nature has thus become a science of far more interest and complexity. Many forms of character now appear, that belong to no period in the progress of the human race preceding that at which we have arrived. To the eye of the poet, man presents himself in new aspects of strength and weakness in multiform relations to the finite and the infinite, and with all the variety of sentiments resulting from the change in his prospects and hopes. He is now ‘a traveller between life and death;’ his highest interests connect him with the boundless, the unearthly, and the mysterious; with all that has most power to affect the imagination, and excite the strongest and deepest feelings. It is only through his relations to God and eternity that man becomes an exhaustless subject of high poetry. When thus viewed, his ruined home may be repeopled with thoughts and images such as these:--

‘Thou hast heard many sounds, thou hearth,
Deserted now by all!
Voices at eve here met in mirth,
Which eve may ne’er recall.
Youth’s buoyant step, and woman’s tone,
And childhood’s laughing glee,
And song and prayer have all been known,
Hearth of the dead! to thee.

‘Thou hast heard blessings fondly pour’d
Upon the infant head,
As if in every fervent word
The living soul were shed:
Thou hast seen partings,--such as bear
The bloom from life away,--
Alas! for love in changeful air,
Where naught beloved can stay!’ etc.

“The recognition of the higher relations of man has given a characteristic to modern poetry, particularly English poetry, through which it has peculiar power over the heart. Expressions and descriptions of human suffering, instead of depressing us with melancholy, become sublime or touching, when that suffering is brought into direct or indirect contrast with man’s nature and hopes as an immortal being, or is represented as calling into exercise those virtues which can exist in such a being alone. There is no pathos in the mere lamentations of an individual over his own particular lot, or over the condition of a race to which he feels it an unhappiness to belong. There is nothing that excites any tender or elevating feeling in such verses as the following from an ancient poet:--

‘Is there a man just, honest, nobly born?
Malice shall hunt him down. Does wealth attend him?
Trouble is heard behind. Conscience direct?
Beggary is at his heels....
... Account that day
Which brings no new mischance, a day of rest.
For what is man? What matter is he made of?
How born? What is he, and what shall he be?
What an unnatural parent is this world,
To foster none but villains, and destroy
All who are benefactors to mankind!’

“The sufferings to which we are here exposed cease to be a subject that leads to any grateful or ennobling state of mind, when man regards the pleasures of this life as his only good. Among the ancient poets, the contemplation of its evils, when viewed at a distance, is associated with sentiments simply disheartening, or altogether superficial and trifling. Let us take for example a famous ode of Horace. It begins:--

‘Eheu! fugaces, Postume, Postume,
Labuntur anni; nec pietas moram
Rugis et instanti senectæ
Afferet, indomitæque morti.’

“It ends:--

‘Absumet hæres Cæcuba dignior,
Servata centum clavibus; et mero
Tinget pavimentum superbo
Pontificum potiore cœnis.’

“No modern poet would, or rather could, construct verses after this fashion.

“It is in representations of the triumph of our immortal nature over the ills of mortality, of the patience with which they are borne, of the power by which they are overcome--in one word, of the moral qualities which suffering alone brings into action, and in those touches that awaken our best and tenderest affections for the sufferings of others, especially the innocent and helpless, that the sources of the highest pathos are to be found. All that is morally sublime springs upward from our severer trials; and then, only when man feels the nobleness of his nature. Present the calamity nakedly to our view, and its contemplation is merely distressing; picture it in connexion with some effort of virtue, and a glory is spread over the whole. In the Fall of D’Assas by Mrs Hemans, (not one of the most remarkable of her productions,) a young officer, full of the thoughts of his home and the scenes of his earlier years, is represented as surprised and massacred by his enemies. The simple narrative of such a death naturally excites painful emotion, but this emotion is so wholly overborne, as but to give additional strength to the exaltation of feeling produced by the concluding verses:--

‘“Silence!” in under-tones they cry,’ etc.

“We may compare the poem just quoted with a passage from Virgil, which refers to circumstances somewhat similar, and has been praised as very pathetic, in the episode of Nisus and Euryalus, where Nisus perceives that Euryalus has fallen into the hands of his foes, and is just about to be slain.

‘Tum vero, exterritus, amens,
Conclamat Nisus: nec se celare tenebris
Amplius, aut tantum potuit perferre dolorem:
“Me, me, adsum qui feci, in me convertite ferrum,
O Rutuli! mea fraus omnis; nihil iste nec ausus,
Nec potuit; cœlum hoc et conscia sidera testor.”
Tantum infelicem nimium dilexit amicum.
Talia dicta dabat; sed viribus ensis adactus
Transabiit costas.’

“However conspicuous such a passage may be in an ancient poet, it would not, we believe, be regarded with great admiration in a modern.

“In one of Miss Edgeworth’s little stories for children, which are far better worth reading than most books for grown people, she says of the cottage of some poor woman that _it was as clean as misery could make it_. There is a pathos in these few words, not unusual in her writings, but such as we can find in but a scanty number of writers before our own age. It has not been well understood, that the indirect expressions of suffering are far more powerful than the direct, and that we are much more affected by suppressed, than by unrestrained emotion. In but little of the poetry of past times is there any trace of quickness or delicacy of perception in regard to the modes or expressions of human feeling and passion; for man himself had not become sufficiently refined for the exercise of such observation. Plato objects to Homer, and the tragic poets of Greece, that they degraded men’s minds by representing their heroes, when suffering, as pouring forth long lamentations, singing their sorrows, and beating their breasts. So far as they did so, there was nothing pathetic in their writings. Who, indeed, in modern times, was ever able to imagine himself affected by the sorrows of Achilles for the death of Patroclus, or those of his mother, Thetis, in consequence?

“From the want of sentiment and of moral associations, the descriptive language of the ancient poets is, in general, scanty and poor. It is for the most part drawn immediately from the perceptions of the senses, and has little to do with the invisible feelings and images, of which outward things become the symbols to a reflecting mind. It rarely gives them a moral being; its epithets are seldom imaginative; it paints to the eye; it calls up recollections of bodily rest and pleasure; but it does not often address the heart.

“Horace begins one of his odes thus:--

‘Vides, ut ulta stet nive candidum
Soracte; nec jam sustineant onus
Sylvæ laborantes, geluque
Flumina constiterint acuto?’

“The epithets _white_ mountain, _deep_ snow, _sharp_ frost, are all taken without addition immediately from the perception of the senses; nor, considering the common prosaic use of _laboro_, in a similar sense, is the epithet _labouring_ much more poetical; yet the passage is as striking of its kind as most that may be found in Latin poetry. The lines are thus rendered by Dryden,--

‘Behold yon mountain’s hoary height
Made higher with new mounts of snow;
Again behold the winter’s weight
Oppress the labouring woods below;
And streams, with icy fetters bound,
Benumb’d and cramp’d to solid ground.’

“Dryden was not eminent for his love of nature, or power of describing its beauties; and a poet of livelier perceptions would hardly have changed the name of Soracte for the faint generalisation, ‘yon mountain;’ yet something of the difference which we wish to point out between ancient and modern poetry is here perceptible. Let us take from Mrs Hemans an example of the richly imaginative character of that of later times. We will give the beginning of the verses in which she describes herself as reading, in an arbour, ‘The Talisman’ of Scott. A particular interest attaches to them from the circumstance that, in the best portrait of her, she is represented in this real or imaginary situation.

‘There were thick leaves above me and around,’ etc.

“Every subject becomes rich in proportion to the wealth of the mind by which it is contemplated. The intellectual light that shines upon it gives it its colours. Deficient as the ancient poets were in so many sources of thought and feeling that exist in modern times, they discover as imperfect a sensibility to most of the other pleasures of a refined taste, as to those derived from the objects of nature. There is to be found, for instance, in their works, scarcely a single passage, perhaps not one, in which the power of music, as blending in intimate union sensible and intellectual pleasures, is described with strong expression; yet what a treasury of glowing images and solemn thoughts this subject has opened to modern poets. We need not quote for illustration Mrs Hemans’s ‘Triumphant Music.’

“Through our strong sympathy with our fellow-men, we are deeply interested in the remains of antiquity, in the ruins that recall it to our thoughts, and in the histories which have come down to us--or rather in those histories as fashioned anew by our imagination, effacing and softening, filling up the rude outline, and colouring and embellishing at pleasure. In proportion as we have a more vivid conception of the virtues and excellences of which man is capable, so man, as such, becomes more an object of our regard. In looking back through the obscurity of time, the depravity that would have shocked us, if forced upon our observation, is partially lost in the darkness, and the bright traits of character shine out more distinctly. The dead of past ages are regarded with something of the same tenderness that we feel toward the dead whom we have known: at least we consent for a time to sacrifice our philosophy to an illusion, and, instead of the Richard Cœur-de-Lion of history, whose only marked characteristics were bodily strength and brutal hardihood, with those few gleams of goodness which nothing but the grossest sensuality can utterly extinguish, we consent for a time to take the Richard of Scott’s _Ivanhoe_; or, in fancying the Augustan age, are willing to forget that it took its name from

‘him who murder’d Tully,
That cold villain, Octavius’

“Conformably to the laws of our better nature, our imagination is most readily attracted by what is most excellent in man. While viewing a beautiful tract of country with which we are not familiar, we can hardly refrain from idealising its supposed inhabitants, and giving them somewhat of a poetical character, or, in other words, a character agreeable to our best feelings. So it is in casting our view over past ages. Our sympathies are excited for the hopes, and fears, and the virtues, such as they were, of those who have lost all power to injure; and we may even fashion dim images of what they now are, as existing somewhere in the creation of God, divested, perhaps, of the evil that clung to them on earth. The idea of that moral purification and development, which, we believe, is continually going on in the universe, may thus mingle with the contemplation of the past. It is in transferring us into a world in which grateful imaginations are blended with truth, and the harshness of present reality is shut out, that the poetic interest of antiquity principally consists.

“Of this, modern poetry and fiction have abundantly availed themselves. But though a shadowy antiquity lay as a background to Greek and Roman civilisation, yet it was rarely resorted to by the ancient poets as a source of pleasing or solemn emotions. To them the remoter ages were little more than a desert abounding with monstrous fictions, with licentious and savage divinities, half-brutal demigods, and heroes, and chiefs hardly human, whose fabulous deeds and sufferings present nothing to recommend them to our sense of beauty. In the period following, history assumed at least an air of truth, and men appeared on the stage with human feelings, passions, and virtues. But, in looking back upon their earlier history, the ancients seem to have felt but slightly those peculiar sentiments and trains of feeling, which the contemplation of antiquity now awakens in our breasts. In no ancient poet is there a celebration of a hero of his country to be compared with Mrs Hemans’ lines on the Scottish patriot, Wallace, beginning

‘Rest with the brave, whose names belong
To the high sanctity of song.’

There is no appeal to the deeds of their fathers equal to her Spanish war-song--

‘Fling forth the proud banner of Leon again;
Let the high word “Castile” go resounding through Spain.’

No poetic conception of antiquity is to be found resembling the introduction of her ‘Cathedral Hymn’--

‘A dim and mighty minster of old time,
A temple, shadowy with remembrances
Of the majestic past!’

And above all, there is nothing so morally ennobling, so adapted to raise the character of a people, as the verses by which she has conferred a great obligation on our country--her ‘Pilgrim Fathers.’

“But, beside the advantages afforded to a modern poet by the religious and moral improvement of our race, which it has been principally our object to point out, there are others at which we may glance. He may look back over many ages, and around upon all countries, and acquaint himself with man, as he has existed and exists under circumstances the most dissimilar. He may possess himself of all that knowledge of human nature, which has been gathered from long experience, and wide observation, and multiplied opportunities of comparison. He may, like Southey, construct poems, as wild and wondrous, and as morally beautiful, as ‘Thalaba,’ or as rich with barbaric splendour as ‘The Curse of Kehama,’ from the rude materials of Arabian fiction or Hindoo mythology. The treasures of learning and science, so poor in ancient times, have, through succeeding ages, been accumulating to furnish him with thoughts, illustrations, and images. Our conceptions are enlarged, our views raised, the physical as well as the moral universe has been continually opening to the view of man, and knowledge unfolding her ever-lengthening scroll, of which the ancients had scarcely read the first lines. It was a dream, ridiculed by Plato,[456] of the extravagant admirers of Homer, that all human and divine learning was to be found in his writings.

“In the nature of things, art is progressive; its theory and practice are gradually better understood, errors are discovered and corrected, new objects of attainment proposed, and visions of higher excellence revealed to the mind; and thus we may believe, that the character, principles, purposes, and means of poetry are now comprehended more justly than they were in former times.

“But it may be said that, in perfection of language at least, the poets of Greece and Rome must remain unsurpassed. It may be doubted, however, whether we are qualified to pronounce this judgment in their favour. The harmonious flow of articulate sounds in the Greek and Latin languages, particularly in the Latin, is not to be readily attained in some of the principal languages of literary Europe. But if we speak of poetical beauty of expression and harmony of thought, we must recollect that it is necessary to be acquainted with the train of shadowy associations which follow the direct meaning of a poetical word, before we can determine that word to be well chosen. But such acquaintance implies an intimate knowledge of the use of language and of the state of mind in those addressed, which, as regards the poetry of the ancients, it is very difficult to acquire, and, in many particulars, impossible, yet without which we are liable to fall into great mistakes, and may often be left in much uncertainty. Take, for example, the line--

‘Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.’

It has been admired from the consonance of the sound with the sense. We understand the epithet _putris_ to mean _dusty_, the dusty plain; but this epithet is elsewhere applied to a rich, mellow soil, easily broken up, or to a sandy plain. According to either of these uses, it is apparently an epithet unsuitable, from its associations, to be given to a field described as shaken and resounding with the trampling of a body of horse. As respects, likewise, the epithet _quadrupedans_, we may doubt whether any modern critic can explain why _quadrupedante sonitu_ is more poetical in Virgil than its equivalent, ‘the sound of quadrupeds,’ would be in a modern poet, if used to express the sound of horses.

“Let us take another example:

‘Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus
Idæis Helenam perfidus hospitam.’

Why is the word _traheret_ used, which, as employed elsewhere, would imply the taking away of Helen against her will? Does it refer to one version of the story according to which Paris did bear her away by force? Were this the case, one would naturally expect, considering the reproachful and denunciatory character of the ode, to find that idea brought out more distinctly. Is it intended to express the reluctance with which, though yielding to her love for Paris, she left her husband and her home? This conception is too refined for an ancient poet to trust to its being made apparent by so light a touch, if indeed we may suppose it to have entered his mind. Was _traheret_ then intended, by its associations with an act of violence, to denote the rapidity and fear of the flight of Paris? or was it merely employed _abusively_, to use a technical term--only with reference to a part of its signification, as words are not unfrequently used in poetry, though it is always an imperfection?

“Such cases are very numerous, in which no modern reader can pronounce with just confidence upon the character of the poetical language of the ancients. Instances are frequently occurring in which, if we admire at all, we must admire at second-hand, upon trust. The meaning and effect of words have undergone changes which it is often not easy, and often not possible, to ascertain with precision. Even in our own language this is the case. Shakspeare says--

‘Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark
To cry. Hold! Hold!’

“Here Johnson understands him as presenting the ludicrous conception of ‘the ministers of vengeance peeping through a blanket;’ and Coleridge, as we see by his _Table-Talk_, conjectured that instead of ‘blanket,’ ‘blank height’ was perhaps written by Shakspeare. But by ‘Heaven’ we conceive to be meant not the ministers of vengeance, but the lights of heaven; and it is not unpoetical to speak of the moon and stars as peeping through clouds. With the word ‘blanket,’ our associations are trivial and low; but understand it merely as denoting a thick covering of darkness which closely enwraps the lights of heaven, and it suits well to its place. But our associations with the word are accidental: there is nothing intrinsically more mean in a blanket than a sheet, yet none would object to the expression of ‘a sheet of light.’ The fortunes of the words only have been different, and that, in all probability, since the time of Shakspeare, considering his use of this word, and the corresponding use of the word _rug_ by Drayton.[457]

“If such be the character of poetical language, it is clear that, to judge with critical accuracy of that of a distant age or even a foreign Land, requires uncommon knowledge and discrimination, as well as an accurate taste; while unfortunately, profound scholarship and cultivated and elegant habits of mind have very rarely been united in the study of the ancient poets. The supposition of a peculiar felicity of expression in their writings is to be judged of, in most cases, rather by extrinsic probabilities, which do not favour it, than by any direct and clear evidence of it that can be produced. We are very liable in this particular to be biassed by prepossession and authority; our imaginations often deceive us; we create the beauty which we fancy that we find.

“There is perhaps no poet, in whose productions the characteristics of which we have spoken as giving a superiority to the poetry of later times over that which has preceded, appear more strikingly than in those of Mrs Hemans. When, after reading such works as she has written, we turn over the volumes of a collection of English poetry, like that of Chalmers, we cannot but perceive that the greater part of it appears more worthless and distasteful than before. Much is evidently the work of barren and unformed, vulgar and vicious minds, of individuals without any conception of poetry as the glowing expression of what is most noble in our nature, and often with no title to the name of poet, but from having put into metre thoughts too mean for prose. Such writings as those of Mrs Hemans at once afford evidence of the advance of our race, and are among the most important means of its further purification and progress. The minds, which go forth from their privacy to act with strong moral power upon thousands and ten thousands of other minds, are the real agents in advancing the character of man, and improving his condition. They are instruments of the invisible operations of the Spirit of God.”--_Christian Examiner_, Jan. 1836.

[446] “It is related that Jove chanced, being exhilarated by nectar, to lay aside his weighty cares, and interchange pleasant jokes with idle Juno.”

[447] See “De Republica,” lib. ii., pp. 373-383.

[448] See “De Republica,” lib. iii. p. 391.

[449]

“The love of horses which they had alive,
And care of chariots, after death survive.
In bands reclining on the grassy plain,
They feasted and pour’d forth a joyful strain.”
See Dryden’s “Virgil.”

[450] Be wise, pour out your wine, and contract your hopes within life’s narrow compass.

[451] Why, in so short a life, do we, in our bravery, aim at so much?

[452] Joyous during the present hour, the mind should reject all care for what is beyond, and temper what is bitter with a gentle smile.

[453] ‘The wife of a Vaudois leader, in one of the attacks made on the Protestant hamlets, received a mortal wound, and died in her husband’s arms, exhorting him to courage and endurance.’

[454] “What Aristotle says,” observes his able translator, Mr Twining, “is, I fear, but too conformable to the manner in which the ancients usually speak of the sex in general. At least he is certainly consistent with himself; witness the following very curious character of women in his ‘History of Animals,’ which I give the reader by no means for his assent, but for his wonder or his diversion.” Mr Twining’s remarks sufficiently imply of what nature this character, and we forbear to quote it.

[455] I am a man; whatever concerns other men, I think my concern.

[456] “De Republica,” lib. x. p. 598, seq.

[457] See examples, in the notes to Shakspeare.

INDEX

Aaron’s Rod, 495

Abbotsford, farewell to, 508

Abencerrage, the, 67

Aber church, sonnet on, 603

Address to the Deity, 1

Adopted child, the, 423

Affection, prayer of, 596

Aged friend, to an, 620

Aged Indian, the, 56

“Ah cease!” from Metastasio, 49

Alaric in Italy, 95

Album at Rosanna, lines written for the, 510

-- of Miss F. A. L., lines written in the, 295

Alcestis, death-song of, 502

-- of Alfieri, the, 121

Alfieri, the Alcestis of, 121

Alhambra, the, 79 notes

Alp-horn song, 294

Alpine horn, the, 545

Alps, league of the, 234

-- the shepherd-poet of the, 512

American forest girl, the, 406

“Amidst the bitter tears,” from Camoens, 46

Ancestral song, the, 467

Ancient battle-song, 539

-- Greek chant of victory, 536

-- -- song of exile, 349

And I too in Arcadia, 541

Anemone, the blue, to, 610

Angel visits, 354

Angel’s greeting, the, 499

Angler, the, 489

Annunciation, the, 598

Anthony and Cleopatra, last banquet of, 93

Antique Greek lament, 627

-- sepulchre, the, 493

Arabella Stuart, 385

Arnold de Brescia, 86 note

Ascending a hill leading to a convent, on, 49

Asdrubal, the wife of, 97

Assas, the fall of, 537

Attendant, to his, from Horace, 298

Autumn of 1834, records of the, 622

Baillie, Joanna, 187

Bandusia, to the fountain of, from Horace, 299

Barb, jeu-d’esprit on the word, 139

Bards, chant of the, 151

-- meeting of the, 246

Barton, Bernard, to the daughter of, 485

Basvigliana of Monti, the, 118

Battle, the call to, 547

Battle of Maclodio, the, an ode, 128

Battlefield, the, 605

Bed of heath, the, 562

Beings of the mind, the, 477

Bell at sea, the, 492

Belshazzar’s feast, 219

Bembo, translation from, 51

Bended bow, the, 345

Bentivoglio, sonnet from, 50

Bernardo del Carpio, 456

Bethany, the sisters of, 599

Better land, the, 479

“Bird that art singing,” 540

-- at sea, the, 556

Bird’s release, the, 338

Birds, the, 531

-- of passage, 434

-- of the air, the, 602

Blackwood’s Magazine, 42, 66

Blondel the Troubadour, 101

Blue Anemone, to the, 610

Books and flowers, 504

Boon of memory, the, 382

Bowl of liberty, the, 242

Brandenburg harvest-song, from La Motte Fouqué, 348

Breathings of spring, 432

Breeze from shore, the, 378

Bridal-day, the, 466

Bride of the Greek isle, the, 388

Brigand leader and his wife, the, 506

“Brightly hast thou fled,” 562

“Bring flowers,” 362

Broken chain, the, 491

-- flower, the, 505

-- lute, the, 515

Brother and sister in the country, to my, 2

Brother’s dirge, the, 545

Bruce at the source of the Nile, 368

Burial in the desert, the, 516

-- of an emigrant’s child in the forest, the, 579

-- of William the Conqueror, the, 537

Butler, William Archer, 293 note

Butterfly resting on a skull, lines to a, 491

“By a mountain-stream at rest,” 566

Caius Gracchus of Monti, translations from the, 133

Call to battle, the, 547

Cambrian in America, the, 148

Camoens, translations from, 43

Camoens’ Lusiad, translation from, 297

Captivity, songs of, 545

Caravan in the desert, the, 210

Carolan’s prophecy, 414

Caroline, to, 524

Carpio, Bernardo del, 456

Carthage, Marius among the ruins of, 212

Casabianca, 369

Castri, the view from, 251

Caswallon’s triumph, 150

Cathedral hymn, 574

Cavern of the three Tells, the, 341

Chamois hunter’s love, the, 450

Chant of the bards before their massacre, 151

Charlotte, the princess, stanzas on the death of, 59

Charmed picture, the, 458

Chatillon, de, a tragedy, 300

Chaulieu, translation from, 52

Chieftain’s son, the, 245

Child and dove, the, 357

-- dirge of a, 54

-- of the forests, the, 359

-- reading the Bible, the, 583

-- to a, on his birthday, 355

Child’s first grief, the, 502

-- last sleep, the, 431

-- morning and evening hymns, 532

-- return from the woodlands, the, 506

Children whom Jesus blessed, the, 601

Chorley, Mr, criticisms by, 292, 337, 445, 466, 517, 632

Christ, on a remembered picture of, 601

-- bearing his cross, on a picture of, 607

-- Infant, with flowers, picture of the, 601

-- stilling the tempest, 355

Christian Examiner, the, 336

Christmas carol, 14, 437

Church, old, in an English park, 603

-- in North Wales, a, 603

Cicero, death of, 89 note

Cid, songs of the, 238

Cid’s deathbed, the, 238

-- departure into exile, the, 238

-- funeral procession, the, 239

-- rising, the, 241

Clanronald, death of, 58

Cleopatra and Anthony, last banquet of, 93

Cliffs of Dover, the, 376

Clwyd river, the, 618

Cœur-de-Lion at the bier of his father, 346

Coleridge’s epitaph, on reading, 623

“Come away,” 560

“ -- home,” 465

“ -- to me, dreams of heaven,” 564

“ -- -- gentle sleep,” 567

“Common sense,” the satire of, 66

Communings with thought, 607

Conqueror’s sleep, the, 365

Conradin, the death of, 103

Constantine, the last, 221

Contadina, the, 361

Conversation, memorial of a, 622

Conway, residence at, 19

Corinne at the Capitol, 469

Coronation of Inez de Castro, the, 448

Costanza, 407

Cottage girl, the, 604

Covent Garden, the Vespers of Palermo at, 186

Crescentius, the widow of, 85

Cross in the wilderness, the, 371

-- of the South, the, 294

Crusader’s return, the, 363

-- war-song, the, 58

Curfew-song of England, the, 553

Daily paths, our, 370

Dalecarlian mine, scene in a, 357

Dargle, on a scene in the, 623

Darkness of the crucifixion, the, 602

Dartmoor, 141

Datura Arborea, on the, 623

Daughter of Bernard Barton, to the, 485

Day of flowers, the, 592

Death and the warrior, 490

-- the welcome to, 509

-- of Clanronald, the, 58

-- of Conradin, the, 103

-- of the Princess Charlotte, on the, 59

Death-day of Körner, the, 425

Death-song of Alcestis, the, 502

De Chatillon, or the Crusaders, 300

Deity, address to the, 1

Delius, to, from Horace, 299

Della Casa, sonnet from, 50

Delos, song of, 535

Delphi, the storm of, 241

Delta, criticisms by, 315, 630

Departed, the, 430

-- spirit, to a, 449

Desert, the burial in the, 516

-- flower, the, 524

Deserted house, the, 463

Design and performance, 623

Despondency and aspiration, 624

Dial of flowers, the, 369

Dirge, “Calm on the bosom,” 357

-- “Weep for the early lost,” 298

-- “Where shall we make,” 549

-- at sea, 559

-- of a child, 54

-- of the Highland chief in Waverley, 57

Distant scene, to a, 619

-- ship, the, 434

-- sound of the sea, on the, 618

Diver, the, 481

Domestic affections, the, 15

Dover cliffs, 376

Dramatic scene between Bronwylfa and Rhyllon, 383

Dreamer, the, 380

Dreaming child, the, 458

Dreams of heaven, 518

-- the dead, 624

Druid chorus, &c., 145

Dying bard’s prophecy, the, 152

-- girl and flowers, 556

-- Improvisatore, the, 379

East, attraction of the, 620

Easter-day in a mountain-churchyard, 581

Echo song, 551

Eclectic review, 633

Eclogue from Camoens, 44

Edinburgh Monthly Magazine, 106, 107, 253, 292

-- -- Review, 43, 66, 106, 113

-- Review, 440

Edith, 396

Edwards, Mr, lines to, 19

Effigies, the, 428

Eldest brother, to my, 12

Elgin marbles, the, 41

Ellis, Sir Henry, to the memory of, 56

Elysium, 249

Emigrant’s child, burial of a, 579

Emigration, song of, 451

England, the name of, 567

-- and Spain, 4

England’s dead, 246

English boy, the, 609

-- martyrs, the, 568

-- soldiers’ song of memory, 358

“Enjoy the sweets,” 52

Epitaph, “Farewell, beloved,” 520

-- on Mr W., 20

-- on his hammer, 20

-- over two brothers, 356

Eryri Wen, 151

Evening among the Alps, 57

-- prayer at a girls’ school, 374

Evening song of the Tyrolese peasants, 494

-- -- -- weary, 592

-- star, to the, 560

Exile’s dirge, the, 457

Eye, to the, 59

Fair Helen of Kirkconnel, 561

-- Isle, the, 152

Fairies’ recall, the, 565

Fairy favours, 439

-- song, 562

Faith of love, the, 507

Fall of d’Assas, the, 537

Fallen lime-tree, the, 555

Family Bible, to a, 600

Far away, 558

-- o’er the sea, 546

Farewell to Abbotsford, 508

-- the dead, 353

-- Wales, 499

Fata Morgana, the, 38

Father reading the Bible, a, 437

Fathers’ songs, our, 366

Faunus, to, from Horace, 299

Fawsley park, sonnet on a church in, 603

Festal hour, the, 252

Fever-dream, the, 139

Fidelity till death, 394

Fiesco, prologue to the tragedy of, 520

Filicaja, sonnets from, 49, 138

Flight of the spirit, the, 628

Flower, the shadow of a, 491

-- from the field of Grütli, on a, 244

-- of the desert, the, 524

Flowers, 628

-- and music in a room of sickness, 572

-- day of, 592

-- dial of, 369

Foliage, 621

Forest sanctuary, the, 316

Forsaken hearth, the, 380

“Fortune, why thus,” from Metastasio, 48

Fourteenth century, a tale of the, 213

Fountain of Bandusia, to the, 299

-- Marah, the, 496

-- Oblivion, the, 465

Fouqué, Brandenburg harvest-song, from, 348

Fragment, “Rest on your battle-fields,” 245

Freed bird, the, 521

Friend, to an aged, 620

Funeral-day of Sir Walter Scott, the, 585

-- genius, the, 250

-- hymn, 581

Future, a thought of the, 498

Gafran’s sea-song, 146

Garcilaso de la Vega, “Divine Eliza,” from, 296

Gargano, mount, 90

Genius singing to love, 554

Genoa, night-scene in, 99

George III., stanzas to the memory of, 187

German literature, 426

-- soldiers’ Rhine song, 534

-- song, 52

Gertrude, 394

Gesner, morning song from, 52

Gifford, Mr, 106

Giulio Regondi, to, 520

Goethe, Mignon’s song from, 547

Goethe’s Iphigenia, scenes from, 616

-- Tasso, -- -- 611

Good-night, 564

Granada, conquest of, 76, 77, notes

Grasmere, a remembrance of, 619

Grave of a poetess, the, 411

Graves of a household, the, 435

-- martyrs, 376

Greece, modern, 28

Greek chant of victory, 536

-- funeral chant, 349

Greek lament, 627

-- parting song, 351

-- song of exile, 349

-- songs, 241

Green isles of ocean, the, 146

Grufydd’s feast, 148

Grütli, on a flower from, 244

Guadalete, battle of, 77 note

Guardian spirit, songs of a, 538

Guerilla leader’s vow, the, 454

-- song, 56

Hall of Cynddylan, the, 147

Happy hour, a, 621

Harp of Wales, the, 145

Haunted ground, 358

-- house, the, 511

“He never smiled again,” 346

“He shall not dread,” 48

“He walk’d with God,” 495

Heart of Bruce in Melrose Abbey, the, 476

Hebe of Canova, on the, 53

Heber, bishop, 118, note

-- to the memory of, 423

Hebrew mother, the, 372

Helen of Kirkconnel, 561

Heliodorus in the temple, 98

Hermitage on the sea-shore, lines written in a, 54

Hero’s death, the, 59

Herrera, ode from, 254

Highland chief in Waverley, dirge of the, 57

Hirlas horn, the, 146

Hogg, James, 63 note

Holy Family, repose of a, 600

Home of love, the, 503

Homes of England, the, 412

Hope, the song of, 546

Horace, translations from, 298

Hour of death, the, 375

-- prayer, 377

-- romance, an, 427

“How can that love,” 565

“How strange a fate,” 45

Howel’s song, 150

Huguenot’s farewell, the, 626

Humboldt on the Southern cross, 332 note

Hymn by the sick-bed of a mother, 486

-- of the traveller’s household on his return, 594

-- of the Vaudois mountaineers, 588

Hymns for childhood, 528

“I dream of all things free,” 546

“I go, sweet friends,” 354

“I would we had not met again,” 565

“If thou hast crush’d a flower,” 562

“If thus thy fallen grandeur,” 49

“If to the sighing breeze,” 51

Il Conte di Carmagnola, the, 125

Illuminated city, the, 432

Image in lava, the, 436

-- in the heart, the, 461

Imelda, 394

Impromptu to Miss F. A. L., 499

“In tears the heart,” 47

Indian, the aged, 56

-- with his dead child, the, 450

-- city, the, 398

-- woman’s death-song, 402

Indian’s revenge, 590

Inez de Castro, coronation of, 448

Infant Christ with flowers, picture of the, 601

Intellectual powers, 627

Invocation, “And come ye faithful,” 597

-- “Answer me,” 424

-- “As the tired voyager,” 597

-- “Hush’d is the world,” 55

-- “Oh, art thou still,” 546

Iphigenia of Goethe, scenes from the, 616

“Is there some spirit,” 566

Isle of founts, the, 344

“Italia, O Italia,” 49

Italian girl’s hymn to the virgin, 449

-- literature, translations, &c. from, 118

-- poets, patriotic effusions from, 137

Italy, Alaric in, 95

-- restoration of the works of art to, 22

Ivan the Czar, 413

Ivy song, 354

-- 557

Jeffrey, Lord, 337, 440

Jeu-d’esprit on the word “barb,” 139

Jewsbury, Miss, 53, 422

Joan of Arc in Rheims, 403

Juan de Tarsis, sonnet from, 50

Juana, 405

Juvenile poems, 1

Kaiser’s feast, the, 419

Kamsin, the, 69 note

Keene, a, 558

Kindred hearts, 367

King of Arragon’s lament for his brother, the, 452

Körner and his sister, 424

-- the death-day of, 425

Lady of Provence, the, 446

-- of the castle, the, 416

Lament of an Irish mother, the, 558

-- of Llywarch Hen, the, 147

Land of dreams, the, 462

Landing of the pilgrim fathers in New England, the, 429

Landon, Miss, 631

Langhans, Madame, tomb of, 457

Last banquet of Anthony and Cleopatra, the, 93

-- Constantine, the, 221

-- rites, 372

-- song of Sappho, 549

-- tree of the forest, 473

-- wish, 438

-- words of the last wasp, 523

Lawrence, Mrs, 505 note

Lays of many lands, 338

Leaf from Virgil’s tomb, on a, 245

League of the Alps, the, 234

“Leave me not yet,” 543

“Let her depart,” 564

“Let the vain courtier,” 49

“Let us depart,” 606

Life, the prayer for, 509

Lights and shades, 501

Lilies of the field, the, 601

Lines on Elizabeth Smith, 12

Literary Magnet, the, 248, 373 notes

Lonely bird, the, 559

“Look on me thus no more,” 563

“Look on me with thy cloudless eyes,” 561

Lope de Vega, translations from, 49

Lorenzini, sonnet from, 51

Lorenzo de Medici, translation from, 53

Lost Pleiad, the, 375

Love, the faith of, 507

-- the home of, 503

Lyre and flower, the, 559

Lyre’s lament, the, 478

Lyrics and songs for music, 534

Maclodio, the battle of, 128

Madeline, 408

Madoc’s farewell, 149

Madonna, to a picture of the, 517

Maggi, sonnet from, 138

Magic glass, the, 468

Manuel, translation from, 49

Manzoni, Il Conte di Carmagnola from, 125

Marchetti, sonnet from, 138

Maremma, the, 191

Marguerite of France, 521

Maria di Conti, sonnet from, 138

Marius among the ruins of Carthage, 212

Martyrs, the English, 568

Mary at the feet of Christ, 599

-- the memorial of, 599

Mary Magdalene at the sepulchre, 600

-- -- bearing tidings of the resurrection, 600

Medici, Lorenzo de, sonnet from, 53

Meeting of the bards, the, 246

-- of the brothers, 437

-- of the ships, 560

Memorial of Mary, the, 599

-- pillar, the, 410

Memory of a sister-in-law, to the, 486

-- of Sir H. Ellis, to the, 56

-- of Lord Charles Murray, to the, 490

-- of Sir E. Pakenham, to the, 55

-- of the dead, 494

Message to the dead, the, 459

Messenger bird, the, 343

-- -- answer to, 343 note

Metastasio, translations from, 47

Mignon’s song, 547

Mina’s soldiers, song of, 541

Minster, the, 470

Miriam’s song, 598

Mirror in the deserted hall, the, 484

Miss F. A. L., to, on her birthday, 295

-- -- on her mother’s death, 296

Modern Greece, 28

Moir, D. M., 315, 630

Monarch’s death, a, 423

Montgomery, James, 362

Monthly Review, the, 3

Monti’s Basvigliana, translations from, 118

-- Caius Gracchus, 133

Monumental inscription, 356

Moorish bridal-song, 338

-- gathering-song, 540

More, Hannah, 107 note

Morehead, Dr, 253, 292 notes

Morgarten, song of the battle of, 253

Morning song, from Gesner, 52

“Mother! oh, sing me to rest,” 541

-- to my, 11

-- -- a sonnet, 2

-- hymn by the sick-bed of a, 487

Mother’s birthday, on my, 1

-- litany by the sick-bed of a child, 596

Mountain churchyard, Easter-day in a, 581

-- fires, the, 150

-- sanctuaries, 601

-- winds, to the, 514

Mourner for the Barmecides, the, 417

Mozart’s requiem, 435

Muffled drum, the, 552

Murray, Lord Charles, to the memory of, 490

Music, the voice of, 498

-- at a deathbed, 554

-- from shore, 561

-- of St Patrick’s, 557

-- of yesterday, 379

My own portrait, to, 487

Myrtle bough, the, 244

Naples, 536

National lyrics, 534

Nature, hope of future communion with, 623

-- remembrance of, 628

Nature’s farewell, 477

“Near thee, still near thee,” 538

New-born, to the, 502

Night, song of, 471

Night-blowing flowers, 551

Night-hymn at sea, 597

Night-scene in Genoa, 99

Nightingale, the, 532

Nightingale’s death-song, the, 481

No more, 488

“No searching eye,” 47

North American Review, the, 113, 293, 337, 528

Northern spring, the, 533

Norton, professor, 113, 186, 293, 336, 524, 633

Norwegian war-song, 567

“O thou breeze of spring,” 563

“O ye hours,” 520

“O ye voices gone,” 566

“O ye voices round,” 545

Ocean, the, 530

O’Connor’s child, 508

Ode on the defeat of Sebastian of Portugal, 254

“O’er the far blue mountains,” 563

“Oh! droop thou not,” 538

“Oh! skylark, for thy wing,” 544

“Oh! those alone,” 48

Old church in an English park, an, 603

Old Norway, 567

Olive tree, the, 602

Orange bough, the, 543

Orchard blossoms, 619

Orphan, to an, 486

Otho, the emperor, 85

Our daily paths, 370

-- Lady’s well, 365

Owen Glyndwr’s war-song, 149

Pæstan rose, the, 28 note

Painter’s last work, the, 595

Pakenham, Sir E., to the memory of, 55

Palm-tree, the, 430

Palmer, the, 501

Paradise, a thought of, 606

Parting of summer, the, 366

-- ship, the, 473

-- song, a, 500

-- words, 459

Passing away, 489

Pastorini, sonnet from, 49

Patriarchal life, images of, 620

Patriotic effusions of the Italian poets, translations from, 137

Paul and Virginia, on reading, 620

Pauline, 434

Peasant girl of the Rhone, the, 401

Pegolotti, sonnet from, 138

Penitence, the song of, 609

Penitent anointing Christ’s feet, the, 599

Penitent’s offering, the, 496

-- return, the, 605

Petrarch, translations from, 51

Picture of the Madonna, to a, 517

Pilgrim fathers, landing of the, 429

Pilgrim’s song to the evening star, 560

Pindemonte, sonnet from, 53

Places of worship, 602

Platæa, the tombs of, 251

Poet’s dying hymn, a, 583

Poetry, the return to, 622

Portrait, to my own, 487

Prayer, a, “O God,” 1

-- “Father in heaven,” 621

-- at sea after victory, 589

-- for life, the, 509

-- in the wilderness, the, 586

-- of affection, 596

-- of the lonely student, 577

Prince Madoc’s farewell, 149

Prisoners’ evening service, the, 587

Procession, the, 515

Prologue to the Poor Gentleman, 21

--- Fiesco, 520

Properzia Rozzi, 392

Psalm cxlviii. paraphrase of, 533

Psalms, the poetry of the, 624

Psyche borne by zephyrs to the island of Pleasure, 382

Quarterly Review, the, 62, 105, 114

Quevedo, translation from, 50

Queen of Prussia’s tomb, the, 409

Rainbow, the, 529

Records of immature genius, on, 617

Records of the autumn of 1834, 622

-- of the spring of 1834, 617

-- of woman, 385

Recovery, 629

Regondi, Giulio, to, 520

Remembered picture, to a, 464

Requiem of genius, the, 482

Restoration of the works of art to Italy, 22

Return, the, 453

-- to poetry, the, 622

Retzsch’s angel of death, on, 628

Revellers, the, 364

Rhine song of the German soldiers, 534

Rhyllon, residence at, 384, note

Richard Cœur-de-Lion, 101

-- -- at the bier of his father, 346

Rio Verde song, the, 539

Rivers, the, 529

Rizpah, the vigil of, 598

Rock beside the sea, the, 566

-- of Cader Idris, the, 152

Rod of Aaron, the, 495

Roman girl’s song, 433

Rome, Alaric at, 95, note

-- buried in her own ruins, 50

Rose, a song of the, 550

-- a thought of the, 518

Ruin, the, 469

-- and its flowers, the, 13

Rural walks, 3

Ruth, 598

Sabbath sonnet, 629

Sacred harp, the, 600

Sadness and mirth, 480

St Cecilia, for a picture of, 505

St Patrick’s, music of, 557

Sannazaro, sonnet from, 296

Sappho, last song of, 549

Scene in a Dalecarlian mine, 357

Scenes and hymns of life, 568

Sceptic, the, 106

Schepler, Louise, two sonnets to, 603

Schiller’s Wallenstein, 426

Schmidt, the Wanderer from, 523

Schwerin, marshal, grave of, 555

Scio, the voice of, 243

Scott, Sir Walter, 508, 534

-- -- funeral-day of, 585

Sculptured children, the, 496

Sea, distant sound of the, 618

-- night-hymn at, 597

-- prayer at, 589

-- sound of the, 356

-- thought of the, 618

Sea-bird flying inland, the, 484

Sea-song of Gafran, the, 146

Sebastian of Portugal, 256

-- -- -- ode on the defeat of, 254

Second-sight, 483

Secret tribunal, a tale of the, 194

“Seek by the silvery Darro,” 540

Shade of Theseus, the, 349

Shadow of a flower, the, 491

Shakspeare, 2

Shepherd-poet of the Alps, the, 512

Shore of Africa, the, 138

Shunamite woman, reply of the, 598

Sicilian captive, the, 412

Sickness, thoughts during, 627

-- like night, 628

Siege of Valencia, the, 262

Silent multitude, the, 493

Silver locks, the, 10

Silvio Pellico, to, 622

-- -- released, 622

“Sing to me, gondolier,” 563

“Sister! since I met thee last,” 559

Sister’s dream, the, 507

Sisters, the, 548

-- of Bethany, the, 599

-- of Scio, the, 455

Sister-in-law, to the memory of a, 486

Sky, to the, 617

Skylark, the, 532

Skylark, on watching the flight of a, 618

Sleeper, the, 484

-- of Marathon, the, 295

Smith, Elizabeth, lines on, 12

Soldier’s deathbed, the, 461

-- song of memory, the, 358

Song for air by Hummel, 490

-- founded on an Arabian anecdote, 293

-- of Delos, 535

-- of emigration, 451

-- of hope, the, 546

-- of Mina’s soldiers, 541

-- of night, the, 471

-- of penitence, the, 609

-- of the battle of Morgarten, the, 253

-- of the rose, a, 550

-- of the Spanish wanderer, 361

-- of the Virgin, 599

Songs for summer hours, 541

-- of a guardian spirit, 538

-- of captivity, 545

-- of our fathers, the, 366

-- of Spain, 539

-- of the affections, 442

-- of the Cid, 238

Sonnet, “A child midst ancient,” 601

-- “A fearless journeyer,” 603

-- “A song for Israel’s God,” 598

-- “All the bright hues,” 600

-- “Amidst these scenes,” 50

-- “And come, ye faithful,” 597

-- “And ye are strong,” 619

-- “As the tired voyager,” 597

-- “Back, then, once more,” 629

-- “Beside the streams,” 46

-- “Blessings be round,” 603

-- “Calm scenes,” 620

-- “Come forth,” 621

-- “Crowning a flowery slope,” 603

-- “Doth thy heart stir,” 619

-- “Exempt from every grief,” 47

-- “Fair Tajo, there,” 44

-- “Far are the wings,” 621

-- “Far from the rustlings,” 617

-- “Father in heaven,” 621

-- “Flowers! when the Saviour,” 601

-- “For there a holy,” 603

-- “Happy were they,” 601

-- “He that was dead,” 602

-- “He who proclaims,” 47

-- “High in the glowing,” 43

-- “How flows thy being,” 622

-- “How many blessed,” 629

-- “How shall the harp,” 600

-- “I cry aloud,” 138

-- “I dwell among,” 598

-- “I love to hail,” 3

-- “I met that image,” 601

-- “If e’er again,” 623

-- “If thus thy fallen,” 49

-- “If to the sighing,” 51

-- “Italia, O Italia,” 49

-- “Italia, oh! no more,” 138

-- “Like those pale stars,” 599

-- “Lowliest of women,” 598

-- “Majestic plant,” 623

-- “My earliest memories,” 618

-- “Nobly thy song,” 624

-- “Not long thy voice,” 620

-- “O Cambrian river,” 618

-- “O gentle story,” 620

-- “O festal spring,” 617

-- “O nature! there,” 628

-- “O thought, O memory,” 627

-- “O vale and lake,” 619

-- “Oft have I sung,” 45

-- “Oft in still night-dreams,” 624

-- “Oh! bless’d beyond,” 599

-- “Oh! judge in thoughtful,” 617

-- “Oh! what a joy,” 621

-- “On Judah’s hills,” 602

-- “Once more the eternal,” 622

-- “One grief, one faith,” 599

-- “Pause not,” 49

-- “Pilgrim, whose steps,” 138

-- “Poor insect, rash as rare,” 523

-- “Saved from the perils,” 46

-- “She that cast down,” 138

-- “Should love, the tyrant,” 45

-- “Soft skies of Italy,” 57

-- “Soothed by the strain,” 523

-- “Spirit beloved,” 45

-- “Spirit, so oft,” 623

-- “Spirit, whose life sustaining,” 602

-- “Still are the cowslips,” 619

-- “Still that last look,” 620

-- “Sylph of the breeze,” 51

-- “The palm, the vine,” 602

-- “The plume-like swaying,” 598

-- “The sainted spirit,” 50

-- “Then was a task,” 600

-- “There are who climb,” 622

-- “There blooms a plant,” 46

-- “There was a mournfulness,” 599

-- “These marble domes,” 50

-- “They float before my soul,” 623

-- “This green recess,” 51

-- “This mountain-scene,” 44

-- “Those eyes whence love,” 44

-- “Thou art like night,” 628

-- “Thou hast thy record,” 599

-- “Thou in thy morn,” 50

-- “Thou that wouldst mark,” 51

-- “Thou by whose power,” 45

-- “Thou who hast bled,” 50

-- “’Tis sweet to think,” 3

-- “To thee, maternal guardian,” 2

-- “Trees, gracious trees,” 619

-- “’Twas a bright moment,” 623

-- “Under a palm-tree,” 600

-- “Upward and upward,” 618

-- “Waves of Mondego,” 47

-- “We come not, fair one,” 53

-- “Weeper, to thee,” 600

-- “Welcome, O pure,” 628

-- “Well might thine awful,” 628

-- “What household thoughts,” 600

-- “What secret current,” 620

-- “When from the mountain,” 138

-- “Where shall I find,” 47

-- “Whither, celestial maid,” 53

-- “Whither, oh! whither,” 628

-- “Who watches,” 598

-- “Wrapt in sad musings,” 43

-- “Ye too, the free,” 602

-- “Yes! all things tell us,” 622

-- “Yet as a sunburst,” 599

-- “Yet rolling far,” 618

Sonnets, devotional and memorial, 600

Sound of the sea, the, 356

-- -- -- the distant, 618

Southern cross, the, 332 note

Spain, songs of, 539

Spanish chapel, the, 418

-- evening hymn, 540

-- wanderer, song of the, 361

Spartans’ march, the, 243

Spells of home, the, 433

Spirit, flight of the, 628

-- of the Cape, appearance of the, to Vasco de Gama, 297

Spirit’s mysteries, the, 429

-- return, a, 442

Spring of 1834, records of the, 617

-- the voice of, 247

Stanzas on the death of the Princess Charlotte, 59

-- to the memory of ----, 360

-- -- -- George III., 187

Star of the mine, the, 485

Stars, the, 530

Stewart, Dugald, 370 note

Storm of Delphi, the, 241

Storm-painter in his dungeon, the, 471

Stranger in Louisiana, the, 343

Stranger’s heart, the, 464

Stream set free, the, 543

Streams, the, 474

Student’s prayer, the, 577

Subterranean stream, the, 492

Suliote mother, the, 352

Summer hours, songs for, 541

Summer’s call, the, 543

-- parting, the, 366

Sun, the, 529

Sunbeam, the, 431

Sunset, a thought at, 620

Superstition and revelation, 114

Swan and the skylark, the, 552

“Sweet rose,” 48

Swiss song, 342

Switzer’s wife, the, 391

Sword of the tomb, the, 339

“Sylph of the breeze,” 51

Tale of the secret tribunal, a, 194

-- of the fourteenth century, a, 213

Tales and historic scenes, 67, 190

Taliesin’s prophecy, 148

Tarak, the Moorish conqueror, 77 notes

Tasso, Bernardo, sonnet from, 50

-- Torquato, sonnet from, 50