finest emotions. His delineations of human feeling and conduct are sometimes beyond life and nature, and bordering on the extravagant." You are now presented with his affecting picture of "I had a husband once, who loved me: now I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, SECTION VIII. (1.) J. G. C. BRAINERD, of Connecticut, died 1828. His collection of poems consists of articles written nastily for a weekly newspaper edited by him; yet, says Mr. Kettell, "these productions, so little elaborated, and written under various causes of enervation, are stamped with an originality, boldness, force, and pathos, illustrative of genius, not, perhaps, inferior to that of Burns, and certainly much resembling it in kind. No man ever thought his own thoughts more independently than he did." Read his lines on THE INDIAN SUMMER. "What is there saddening in the autumn leaves? Turns into beauty all October's charms When the dread fever quits us-when the storms The moon stays longest for the hunter now; Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks, What is there saddening in the autumn leaves?"" (2.) H. W. LONGFELLOW-Maine. The North American Review for 1844, among other remarks, furnishes the following, upon his poems. His great characteristic is that of addressing the moral nature through the imagination, of linking moral truth to intellectual beauty. The best literary artist is he who accommodates his diction to his subject. In this Longfellow is an artist. By learning "to labor and to wait," by steadily brooding over the chaos in which thought and emotion first appear to the mind, and giving shape and life to both before uttering them in words, he has obtained a singular mastery over expression. By this we do not mean that he has a large command of language. No fallacy is greater than that which confounds fluency with expression. Washerwomen, and boys at debating clubs, often display more fluency than Webster; but his words are to theirs as the rolling thunder to the patter of rain. Felicity, not fluency of language, is a merit. Longfellow has a perfect command of that expression which results from restraining rather than cultivating fluency, and his manner is adapted to his theme. His words are often pictures of his thought. He selects with great delicacy and precision the exact phrase which best expresses or suggests his idea. He colors his style with the skill of a painter. In that higher department of his art, that of so combining his words and images that they make music to the soul as well as to the ear, and convey not only his feelings and thoughts, but also the very tone and condition of the soul in which they have being, he likewise exeels. In "Maidenhood" and "Endymion," this power is admirably displayed. In one of his best poems, "The Skelelon in Armor," he manages a difficult verse with great skill. His felicity in addressing the moral nature of man may be discovered in the following lines: "Lives of great men all remind us, This is very different from merely saying that, if we follow the example of the great and good, we shall live a noble life, and that the record of our deeds and struggles will strengthen the breasts of those who come after us, to do and to suffer. Longfellow's verse occupies a position half way between the poetry of actual life and the poetry of transcendentalism. Like all neutrals, he is liable to attack from the zealots of both parties; but it seems to us that he has hit the exact point, beyond which no poet can at present go, without being neglected or ridiculed. An air of repose, of quiet power, is around his compositions. In "The Spanish Student," the affluence of his imagination in images of grace, grandeur, and beauty, is most strikingly manifested. SECTION IX. JOHN G. WHITTIER (says the North American Review) is one of our most characteristic poets. Few excel him in warmth of temperament. There is a rush of passion in his verse, which sweeps every thing along with it. His fancy and imagination can hardly keep pace with their fiery companion. His vehement sensibility will not allow the inventive faculties to complete what they may have commenced. The stormy qualities of his mind, acting at the suggestions of conscience, produce a kind of military morality, which uses all the deadly arms of verbal warfare. His invective is merciless and undistinguishing; he almost screams with rage and indignation. Of late, he has somewhat pruned the rank luxuriance of his style. He has the soul of a great poet, and we should not be surprised if he attained the height of excellence in his art. SECTION X. ALFRED B. STREET, of Albany, editor of the Northern Light, is well entitled to a place among American poets, as will be apparent from his description of the Gray Forest Eagle. THE GRAY FOREST EAGLE. With storm-daring pinion and sun-gazing eye, Where sunshine and song cheer the bright summer hours, And there's naught but his shadow black gliding across; * * * * * * * * * The advanced age to which the eagle is supposed to attain is thus beautifully described : Time whirls round his circle, his years roll away, The child spurns its buds for youth's thorn-hidden bloom, But the eagle's eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd, But 'tis warm'd with heaven's sunshine and fann'd by its breath, Its thick branches challenge each mood of the sky; A trunk dry and wasted, a top jagged and bare, Then prostrate, soil-blended, with plants sprouting o'er, And he sees dome and roof where those smokes once aròse; * * * * * SECTION XI. * E. W. B. CANNING, of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, has not yet published a volume of poems, but has furnished many valuable contributions to American poetry, in the weekly periodicals of our state, giving |