a healthful hue of cheerfulness, is diffused over her narratives.

Beautifully has she described the duties and the privileges of her own sex in the following fine lines from the introduction to the "Lady Griseld Baillie."

"But she of gentler nature, softer, dearer,

Of daily life the active, kindly cheerer;

With generous bosom, age or childhood shielding,
And in the storms of life, though mov'd, unyielding;
Strength in her gentleness, hope in her sorrow,
Whose darkest hours some ray of brightness borrow
From better days to come, whose meek devotion
Calms every wayward passion's wild commotion;
In want and suff'ring, soothing, useful, sprightly,
Bearing the press of evil hap so lightly,

Till evil's self seems its strong hold betraying

To the sweet witch'ry of such winsome playing;

Bold from affection, if by nature fearful,

With varying brow, sad, tender, anxious, cheerful,—
This is meet partner for the loftiest mind,

With crown or helmet graced,—yea, this is womankind.”

Equally beautiful is the following: —

“The heart's affection—secret thing!
Is like the cleft rock's ceaseless spring,
Which free and independent flows
Of summer rains or winter snows.
The fox-glove from its side may fall,

The heath-bloom fade, or moss-flower white,
But still its streamlet, bright though small,
Will issue sweetly to the light."

Some of Mrs. Joanna Baillie's poems on sacred themes are doubly impressive from their entire unadorned simplicity.

ST. LUKE, XVIII. 16.

666 Let little children come to me,'
Our Lord and Saviour said,
As on a humble, harmless brow
His gentle hand was laid.

"The teachable and simple heart
Fears not to be beguil'd;

Who enters Heaven must love and trust,
E'en as a little child.

“The mightiest king, the wisest sage,
Who knows his God aright,

Himself a helpless infant feels,
In the Almighty's sight.

“A nursling at his lesson set,
Who hopes at last to know,
Is the most learn'd of Adam's race,
In this our home below.

"An urchin with his borrow'd rod,
Who smites with guided hand,
Earth's greatest conqueror hath been,
The lord of many a land.

"Let little children come to me!'

A cheering welcome given
To all with guileless, humble hearts,
Who seek the way to heaven."

Equally beautiful is the following:

66 WEEP NOT," LUKE VII. 12.

"In silent sorrow from the gates of Nain,
Bearing their dead, the widow's only son,
A band of friends went forth; and with that train
E'en she, the most bereft, mov'd sadly on.

"But when the Lord beheld the piteous sight,
He had compassion on her; from Him broke
Soft tenderness of soul, with saving might,

And 'Weep not' were the gracious words He spoke.

"In deep affliction 'tis that voice we hear,

When pitying, helpless friends keep silence round; Weep not! there's saving power, there's comfort near, That will e'en in the darkest hour be found.

"It is an hour of darkest, deepest woe,

When those we love are sever'd from our side; Yet weep not, for we soon and surely go

Upon their steps, led by the same blest Guide.

"It is a darken'd hour, when evil fame
And evil fortune mingle in our lot;

Yet weep not, He, who scorn, rebuke, and shame
Bore for our worthless sakes, deserts us not.

"It is an hour of darkness, when the soul,

She knows not why, dreads an impending doom, While heaven and earth seem one black, formless scroll, But weep not, light will yet break through the gloom.

"Poor soul! He who beheld the widow's grief,

And touch'd the bier, and from death's bands set free Her only son, hath for all woes relief,

And 'Weep not' are the words he speaks to thee."

Mrs. Joanna Baillie lived to a very advanced age (89) an embodiment of all that was "pure, lovely, and of good report." Many as had been the female poets of her time, none had surpassed, and few equalled, herself; while the originality, the calm, deep flow of thought, that pervades her writings, will effectually keep them from being superseded in the estimation of the reflective reader.

It is a gratifying consideration, that among female poetic as well as prose writers, there are living names of equal celebrity with those who have departed. It is not our purpose to speak further of them, than to remark that no age has given such undoubted evidence of the high intellectual attainments of woman as the present,

a fact which must be most favourable to the interests of education and the progress of society; for of woman it is especially true that none liveth or dieth to herself.

CHAP. XVIIL

ILLUSTRIOUS YOUTHFUL POETE. — HENKY KIRKE WHITE BOBERT POLLOK — JOHN KEATS—PERCT BYSSHE SHELLEY.

WHEN the thoughtful mind reverts to the disappointments and sorrows of genius, "mighty poets in their misery dead" throng foremost among the gifted sons of men. We are apt, however, tacitly to compliment the present age by carrying our regrets and indignant sympathies to previous times. Butler, the victim of neglect and ingratitude; Otway, struggling ineffectually with the most humiliating poverty, and perishing in the struggle; Chatterton, in the frenzy of famine rushing through the gates of death; Burns, heartbroken: these are all deep tragedies; we think of them with a sigh, and then thank heaven such times are over. Yet, if absolute starvation is less frequently than formerly the doom of genius, as long as the sublime words remain "Man shall not live by bread alone," so long will genius have to mourn, and master, if it can, its sorrows and its wrongs.

The four names that head our chapter, perhaps, present as remarkable a manifestation of varied genius as ever blazed out in youth, and then