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ON RECEIVING A COPY OF VERSES FROM SOME LADIES.

Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem

Pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain ? Bright as the humming-bird's green diadem, When it flutters in sun-beams that shine through a

fountain?

Hast thou a goblet for dark sparkling wine ?

That goblet right heavy, and massy, and gold? And splendidly mark'd with the story divine

Of Armida the fair, and Rinaldo the bold ?

Hast thou a steed with a mane richly flowing?

Hast thou a sword that thine enemy's smart is? Hast thou a trumpet rich melodies blowing ?

And wear'st thou the shield of the famed Britomartis?

What is it that hangs from thy shoulder so brave,

Embroider'd with many a spring-peering flower? Is it a scarf that thy fair lady gave?

And hastest thou now to that fair lady's bower?

Ah! courteous Sir Knight, with large joy thou art

crown'd; Full many the glories that brighten thy youth! I will tell thee my blisses, which richly abound

In magical powers to bless and to soothe.

On this scroll thou seest written in characters fair

A sun-beaming tale of a wreath, and a chain: And, warrior, it nurtures the property rare

Of charming my mind from the trammels of pain.

This canopy mark: 'tis the work of a fay;

Beneath its rich shade did King Oberon languish, When lovely Titania was far, far away,

And cruelly left him to sorrow and anguish. There, oft would he bring from his soft-sighing lute Wild strains to which, spell-bound, the nightingales

listen'd! The wondering spirits of Heaven were mute,

And tears 'mong the dew-drops of morning oft glisten d.

In this little dome, all those melodies strange,

Soft, plaintive, and melting, for ever will sigh; Nor e'er will the notes from their tenderness change,

Nor e'er will the music of Oberon die

So when I am in a voluptuous vein,

I pillow my head on the sweets of the rose, And list to the tale of the wreath, and the chain,

Till its echoes depart; then I sink to repose.

Adieu! valiant Eric! with joy thou art crown'd,

Full many the glories that brighten thy youth, I too have my blisses, which richly abound

In magical powers to bless, and to soothe.

STANZAS.

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity:
The north cannot undo them,
With a sleety whistle through them;
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.

Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any
Writhed not at passed joy?
To know the change and feel it,
When there is none to heal it,
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
Was never said in rhyme.

This eloquent divine and talented scholar was born in Ireland, towards the close of the last century, and received his education at Trinity College, Dublin. His diligence at this distinguished seat of science and literature, and the ac quirements which he made, especially in classical learning, have been fully attested in the numerous works which he has already given to the world. His views from the Arst were directed to the Church, and after having obtained in succession the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Arts, he entered into boly orders, and was appointed to the charge of a parish in the diocese of Meath. It was a place congenial to meditation, and furnished with that rich scenery which was calculated to nourish a love of the beautiful and picturesque, and here he resided for several years, wholly occupied with study, and his clerical duties. He then visited London at the time when public enthusiasm was at the height about the spirit-stirring events of the war in Spain, and Croly, who shared in the general impulse, resolved to repair to that country in person, and be a spectator of those achievements—as a preliminary to which he acquired a knowledge of the Spanish language; but on the peace of 1815, by which Europe was laid open to England, he directed his course to Germany, and fixed his principal residence at Hamburgh. In the same year he went to Paris, and there his mind dwelt among those memorials of gigantic deeds which it was so well fitted to brood over and contemplate-the relics of the Revolution, and its wars and changes, in the conrulsion of which, Napoleon, its mighty offspring, was dethroned. On his return to England, and while these images were still fresh upon his mind, he produced his first poetical work, entitled, Paris in 1815, to which a second part was afterwards added. His character was at once established as a great poet, which encouraged him to persevere, so that he has since produced his Tragedy of Catiline, The Angel of the World, Gems from the Antique, and numerous fugitive poems, all impressed with the characteristics of the highest genius. Besides these, he has also distinguished himself as a prose writer of fiction of the highest order, of which his Salathiel, and Tales of the Great Saint Bernard, are a sufficient proof. Amidst these literary labours, his attention to his clerical duties and theological study was still paramount, and he produced several theological works of eminent merit, consisting chiefly of expositions of the Apocalypse ; and in consequence of his views on these subjects, he has often been erroneously mistaken by the public for a mere follower of Ed. ward Irving, and the modern Millenarians. Nothing can be more absurd. The early poetry of Croly abounds with his latest views upon the subject, and were given to the world long before Hatton Garden had heard a single note of the northem orator. He had studied the expositors of the early ages of the church for himself, and thus applied at the fountain-head, instead of lingering by any modern stream; and whatever may be thought of his soundness as an interpreter of St. John and the prophets, all parties of Christians must agree in the learning, the ingenuity, and the eloquence, with which they are unfolded, and the holiness of life which they are designed to inculcate. The Battle of Armaged. don, the personal Reign of Christ during a Thousand Years upon Earth, and the Restoration of Zion, are congenial subjects of grandeur and beauty, among which his spirit loves to dwell, and his sermons upon these transcendent themes are fraught with all the eloquence and inspiration of poetry.

While the clerical and literary labours of the divine and poet have been thus so conspicuous, they have not been wholly allowed to pass without those marks of distinction to which they were so justly entitled. His own University bestowed on him unsolicited the degree of Doctor in Divinity, and although his politics were uncompromisingly opposed to the ruling order of things, Lord Brougham, on being raised to the Chancellorship in 1831, gave him one of the livings in the gift of the Crown. In 1835, Lord Lyndhurst presented him to the Rectory of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, in which he still remains.

The poetry of Croly bears a considerable resemblance both in character and style to that of Milman.

Grandeur and majesty, rather than tenderness or depth of feeling, are its prevailing characteristics; and therefore he excels in description, and chiefly in that of supematural objects. He is thus eminently fitted for the high office of a religious poet, so that his sacred pieces are among the noblest specimens of lyrical poetry of which the present age can boast.

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Come, evening gale! the crimson rose

Is drooping for thy sigh of dew, The hyacinth woos thy kiss to close

In slumber sweet its eye of blue. Shine, evening star! the valley-stream

Hath lost the tinges of the sun, And lingers for thy pearly beam,

To tell its bosom day is done. Rise, evening moon! thy holy ray

To emblem heavenly hours is given, When earth shall on our eye decay,

And all our path, like thine, be heaven.

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produced several theological works of eminent merit, consisting chiefly of expositions of the Apocalypse ; and in consequence of his views on these subjects, he has often been erroneously mistaken by the public for a mere follower of Ed. ward Irving, and the modern Millenarians. Nothing can be more absurd. The early poetry of Croly abounds with his latest views upon the subject, and were given to the world long before Hatton Garden had heard a single note of the northern orator. He had studied the expositors of the early ages of the church for himself, and thus applied at the fountain-head, instead of lingering by any modern stream; and whatever may be thought of his soundness as an interpreter of St. John and the prophets, all parties of Christians must agree in the learning, the ingenuity, and the eloquence, with which they are unfolded, and the holiness of life which they are designed to inculcate. The Battle of Armaged. don, the personal Reign of Christ during a Thousand Years upon Earth, and the Restoration of Zion, are congenial subjects of grandeur and beauty, among which his spirit loves to dwell, and his sermons upon these transcendent themes are fraught with all the eloquence and inspiration of poetry.

While the clerical and literary labours of the divine and poet have been thus so conspicuous, they have not been wholly allowed to pass without those marks of distinction to which they were so justly entitled. His own University bestowed on him unsolicited the degree of Doctor in Divinity, and although his politics were uncompromisingly opposed to the ruling order of things, Lord Brougham, on being raised to the Chancellorship in 1831, gave him one of the livings in the gift of the Crown. In 1835, Lord Lyndhurst presented him to the Rectory of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, in which he still remains.

The poetry of Croly bears a considerable resemblance both in character and style to that of Milman, Grandeur and majesty, rather than tenderness or depth of feeling, are its prevailing characteristics; and therefore he excels in description, and chiefly in that of supernatural objects. He is thus eminently fitted for the high office of a religious poet, so that his sacred pieces are among the noblest specimens of lyrical poetry of which the present age can boast.

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