Hark! how the spectre breathes through this still Strange sadness touches all that goes with thee.

THOUGH I am humble, slight me not,

But love me for the Poet's sake;
Forget me not till he's forgot;

I, care or slight, with him would take.
For oft he pass'd the blossoms by,

And gazed on me with kindly look;
Left flaunting flowers and open sky,
And woo'd me by the shady brook.
And like the brook his voice was low:
So soft, so sad the words he spoke,
That with the stream they seem'd to flow:
They told me that his heart was broke ;-
They said, the world he fain would shun,

And seek the still and twilight wood-
His spirit, weary of the sun,

In humblest things found chiefest good;-
That I was of a lowly frame,

And far more constant than the flower, Which, vain with many a boastful name, But flutter'd out its idle hour;

That I was kind to old decay,

And wrapt it softly round in green,
On naked root and trunk of gray
Spread out a garniture and screen :-
They said, that he was withering fast,
Without a sheltering friend like me;
That on his manhood fell a blast,

And left him bare, like yonder tree;
That spring would clothe his boughs no more,
Nor ring his boughs with song of bird-
Sounds like the melancholy shore

Alone were through his branches heard.
Methought, as then, he stood to trace

The wither'd stems, there stole a tear That I could read in his sad face,

Brother, our sorrows make us near.
And then he stretch'd him all along,

And laid his head upon my breast,
Listening the water's peaceful song,-
How glad was I to tend his rest!
Then happier grew his soothed soul.
He turn'd and watch'd the sunlight play
Upon my face, as in it stole,

Whispering, Above is brighter day!
He praised my varied hues-the green,
The silver hoar, the golden, brown;
Said, Lovelier hues were never seen:
Then gently press'd my tender down.
And where I sent up little shoots,

He call'd them trees, in fond conceit: Like silly lovers in their suits

He talk'd, his care awhile to cheat.
I said, I'd deck me in the dews,

Could I but chase away his care,
And clothe me in a thousand hues,
To bring him joys that I might share.

He answer'd, earth no blessing had
To cure his lone and aching heart-
That I was one, when he was sad,

Oft stole him from his pain, in part.
But e'en from thee, he said, I go,

To meet the world, its care and strife,
No more to watch this quiet flow,

Or spend with thee a gentle life.
And yet the brook is gliding on,

And I, without a care, at rest,
While back to toiling life he's gone,
Where finds his head no faithful breast.
Deal gently with him, world, I pray ;
Ye cares, like soften'd shadows come;
His spirit, wellnigh worn away,
Asks with ye but awhile a home.
Oh, may I live, and when he dies

Be at his feet an humble sod;
Oh, may I lay me where he lies,
To die when he awakes in God!

WASHINGTON ALLSTON.

I LOOK through tears on Beauty now;
And Beauty's self, less radiant, looks on me,
Screne, yet touch'd with sadness is the brow

(Once bright with joy) I see.
Joy-waking Beauty, why so sad?
Tell where the radiance of the smile is gone
At which my heart and earth and skies were glad―
That link'd us all in one.

It is not on the mountain's breast;
It comes not to me with the dawning day;
Nor looks it from the glories of the west,
As slow they pass away.

Nor on those gliding roundlets bright
That steal their play among the woody shades,
Nor on thine own dear children doth it light-
The flowers along the glades.
And alter'd to the living mind
(The great high-priestess with her thought-born race
Who round thine altar aye have stood and shined)
The comforts of thy face.

Why shadow'd thus thy forehead fair?
Why on the mind low hangs a mystic gloom?
And spreads away upon the genial air,

Like vapours from the tomb?

Why should ye shine, you lights above?
Why, little flowers, open to the heat
No more within the heart ye filled with love
The living pulses beat.

Well, Beauty, may you mourning stand!
The fine beholding eye whose constant look
Was turn'd on thee is dark-and cold the hand
That gave all vision took.

Nay, heart, be still!-Of heavenly birth
Is Beauty sprung. Look up! behold the place!
There he who reverent traced her steps on earth
Now sees her face to face.

RICHARD HENRY WILDE.

[Born, 1789. Died, 1847.]

THE family of the late Mr. WILDE are of Saxon origin, and their ancient name was DE WILDE; but his parents were natives of Dublin, and his father was a wholesale hardware merchant and ironmonger in that city during the American war; near the close of which he emigrated to Maryland, leaving a prosperous business and a large capital in the hands of a partner, by whose bad management they were in a few years both lost.

with a consumptive cough, he sought a distant court to be examined, that, if rejected, the news of his defeat might not reach his mother. When he arrived, he found he had been wrongly informed, and that the judges had no power to admit hin. He met a friend there, however, who was going to the Greene Superior Court; and, on being invited by him to do so, he determined to proceed immediately to that place. It was the March term, for 1809, Mr. Justice EARLY presiding; and the young applicant, totally unknown to every one, save the friend who accompanied him, was at intervals, during three days, subjected to a most rigorous examination. Justice EARLY was well known for his strictness, and the circumstance of a youth leaving his own circuit excited his suspicion; but every question was answered to the satisfaction and even admiration of the examining committee; and he declared that "the young man could not have left his circuit because he was unprepared." His friend certified to the correctness of his moral character; he was ad

RICHARD HENRY WILDE was born in the year 1789, and his childhood was passed in Baltimore. He was taught to read by his mother, and received instruction in writing and Latin grammer from a private tutor until he was about seven years old. He afterward attended an academy; but his father's affairs becoming embarrassed, in his eleventh year he was taken home and placed in a store. His constitution was at first tender and delicate. In his infancy he was not expected to live from month to month, and he suffered much from ill health until he was fifteen or sixteen. This induced quiet, retiring, solitary, and studious habits. His mother's example gave him a passion for read-mitted without a dissenting voice, and returned ing, and all his leisure was devoted to books. The in triumph to Augusta. He was at this time study of poetry was his principal source of plea- under twenty years of age. sure, when he was not more than twelve years old. About this time his father died; and gathering as much as she could from the wreck of his property, his mother removed to Augusta, Georgia, and commenced there a small business for the support of her family. Here young WILDE, amid the drudgery of trade, taught himself book-keeping, and became familiar with the works in general literature which he could obtain in the meagre libraries of the town, or from his personal friends. The expenses of a large family, and various other causes, reduced the little wealth of his mother; her business became unprofitable, and he resolved to study law. Unable, however, to pay the usual fee for instruction, he kept his design a secret, as far as possible; borrowed some elementary books from his friends, and studied incessantly, tasking himself to read fifty pages, and write five pages of notes, in the form of questions and answers, each day, besides attending to his duties in the store. And, to overcome a natural diffidence, increased by a slight impediment in his speech, he appeared frequently as an actor at a dramatic society, which he had called into existence for this purpose, and to raise a fund to establish a public library. All this time his older and graver acquaintances, who knew nothing of his designs, naturally confounded him with his thoughtless companions, who sought only amusement, and argued badly of his future life. He bore the injustice in silence, and pursued his secret studies for a year and a half; at the end of which, pale, emaciated, feeble, and

His health gradually improved; he applied himself diligently to the study of belles letters, and to his duties as an advocate, and rapidly rose to eininence; being in a few years made attorney-general of the state. He was remarkable for industry in the preparation of his cases, sound logic, and general urbanity. In forensic disputations, he never indulged in personalities, then too common at the bar,-unless in self-defence; but, having studied the characters of his associates, and stored his memory with appropriate quotations, his ridicule was a formidable weapon against all who attacked him.

In the autumn of 1815,when only a fortnight over the age required by law, Mr. WILDE was elected a member of the national House of Representatives. At the next election, all the representatives from Georgia, but one, were defeated, and Mr. WILDE returned to the bar, where he continued, with the exception of a short service in Congress in 1825, until 1828, when he again became a representative, and so continued until 1835. I have not room to trace his character as a politician very closely. On the occasion of the Force Bill, as it was called, he seceded from a majority of Congress, considering it a measure calculated to produce civil war, and justified himself in a speech of much eloquence. His speeches on the tariff, the relative advantages and disadvantages of a small-note currency, and on the removal of the deposites by General JACKSON, show what are his pretensions to industry and sagacity as a politician.