564 



Monthly Review of Literature, 



[Nov. 



Sheridan's Fairy Fancies, if he had con- 

 densed them into half the compass, might 

 have been readable ; but Mr. Archdeacon 

 Wrangham might surely leave his Anthology 

 Scraps to the yoiuig Masters and Misses of 

 his family, if he have any. 



Bliss Bowles has touched the subject of 

 Death delicately and soothingly. 



Come not in terrors clad, to claim 



An uni-esisting prey ; 

 Come like an evening sLadow, Death 1 



So stealthily I so silently I 

 And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath: 

 Then willingly — oh 1 willingly 

 With thee I'll go away. 



What need to clutch with iron grasp, 



AVhat gentlest touch may take ? 

 What need with aspect dark to scare ? 



So awfully ! so terribly I 

 The weary soul would hardly care, — 

 Call'd quietly — call'd tenderly,— 

 From thy dread power to break ! 



'Tis not as when thou markest out 



The young, the gay, tlie blest. 

 The loved, the loving— they who dream 



So happily! so hopefully ! 

 TUcn harsh thy kindest call may seem. 

 And shrinkingly — reluctantly 

 The summon'd may obey. 



But I have drunk enough of life, 



(The cup assign'd to me 

 Dash'd with a little sweet at best. 



So scantily ! so scantily!) 

 To know full well that all the rest. 

 More bitterly — more bitterly 

 Drugg'd to the last will be. 



And I may live to pain some heart 



That kindly cares for me, — 

 To pain, but not to bless. O Death I 



Come quietly — come lovingly. 

 And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath. 

 Then willingly — oh! willingly 

 With thee I'll go away ! 



Some of the contributors of this success- 

 ful volume work double duties ; Lord Nu- 

 gent, JMrs. Norton, and Howitt ; but all 

 handle the prose tales best — especially Mrs. 

 Norton : her tale of AVilliam Errick is very 

 effectively told. Miss Mitford's Little Miss 

 Wren is in a very lively tone, but bordering 

 here and there pretty closely upon the ex- 

 travagant — she cumulates htr descriptions 

 occasionally — toe intent upon exhibiting the 

 fertility of her fancy, or the minuteness of 

 her observances. 



To speak of the ornaments would be quite 

 superfluous — they have been selected by 

 Cooper, and executed by the first artists. 

 The Gipsy Belle is a fascination of form 

 and feature — ease, grace, dignity, and con- 

 Jidence combined. The lady of the " Love 

 I>etter" is supposed to be sleeping — she will 

 soon wake benumbed — the attitude must 

 murder sleep. 



The Juvenile Forj/et-me-not, 1830. 



Mrs. Hall's Juvenile Forget-me-not is very 



superior In point of ornamental decoration. 

 Nay, two or three of the engravings excel 

 any thing we have seen in the annuals that 

 have yet fallen into our liands ; for instance, 

 ' My Brother.' It is life itself; the fond- 

 ling sisters burst of affection and pride, and 

 the little fellow's unyieldingness — his eyes 

 apparently intent upon something else, and 

 not understanding her fondling. The il.. 

 lustrating verses, are as ridiculously inap< 

 plicable as anything can well be ; ' Boy, 

 love thy sister,' as if the writer meant to 

 drive affection into him at the point of the 

 birch. ' Bob-cherry,' with the little ones' 

 protruding earnestness to catch the tempting 

 morsel is little inferior. Mister Hugh Lit- 

 tlejohn, about whom Allan Cimningham 

 makes some verses for the purpose of ' claw- 

 ing ' the father and grandfather, is a very 

 odd looking lad, with a head large enough 

 for two — the Edinburgh phrenologists of 

 course have discussed it, and the features 

 anything but those of a boy. A child's 

 prayer, by Hogg, is beyond the usual dog- 

 grel style of such things. 



O, God of yonder starrj' frame. 



How should a thing like me 

 Dare to pi onounce thy holy name. 



Or bow to thee the knee? 

 I know not of my spirit's birth. 



How dust and soul combine, 

 Nor being of one thing on earth. 



And how can I know thine ? 



I only know that I was made 



Thy purpose to fulfil, 

 Aud that I gladly would be good, 



And do thy holy will. 

 For this, my being rational. 



For this, my dwelling place, 

 I bless thee. Lord ; but, most of all. 



For gospel of thy grace. 



Direct my soul to search and know 



What Jesus did for me. 

 And teach my little heart to glow 



With thankfulness to thee. 

 And when this weary life is done. 



And dust to dust declines. 

 Then may I dwell beyond the sun. 



Where thy own glory shines. 



Take my dear parents to thy care. 



My little kinsfolk too, 

 And listen to their humble prayer, 



When they before thee bow. 

 And when they pray for sinful me, 



With fervour that exceeds. 

 Do thou return the blessing ftee 



And double on their heads. 



Frietuhhip's Offi;ring,1830 — Next to the 

 Forget-me-Not, this is the oldest of the 

 Annuals ; but neither has time crippled its 

 vigour, nor success relaxed its efforts. In 

 beauty and spirit it is surpassed by none 

 that have since started in the generous 

 career, where the competitors rather con- 

 tend for excellence than wrestle for con- 

 quest. It is almost invidious where 



equality prevails to perhaps a more than 



