"Mother! hear, oh hear my last entreaty!
Let the funeral pile arise once more;
Open up my wretched tomb for pity,
And in flames our souls to peace restore.
When the ashes glow,
When the fire-sparks flow,
To the ancient gods aloft we soar."
* * * * *
After this most powerful and original ballad, let us turn to
something more genial. The three following poems are exquisite
specimens of the varied genius of our author; and we hardly know
whether to prefer the plaintive beauty of the first, or the light and
sportive brilliancy of the other twain.