that has discovered and wrought all the fine shapes that he has been
accustomed to look upon with wonder--Claverhouse, and Burley, and
Bothwell,--Meg Merrilies and Elspeth--the high and the low--the fierce
and the fair--Cavaliers and Covenanters, and the rest--presenting an
assemblage of character that is absolutely unequalled, except in the
pages of Shakspeare alone. There is no other writer, be he Greek, or
Goth, or Roman, who has ever astonished the world by creations so
infinitely diversified. The mind of the author appears so free from
egotism, so large and serene, so clear of all images of self, that it
receives, as in a lucid mirror, all the varieties of nature.


* * * * *

ON A GIRL SLEEPING.


Thou liv'st! yet how profoundly deep
The silence of thy tranquil sleep!
Like death it almost seems:
So all unbroke the sighs which flow
From thy calm breast of spotless snow,
Like music heard in dreams.

Thy soul is filled with gentle thought,
Unto its shrine by angels brought
From Heaven's supreme abode;
Thy dreams are not of earthly things,
But, borne upon Religion's wings,
They lift thee up to God.