n its mother there
A meek imploring eye.
"O child! what brings that breathless form
Back from its place of rest?
For well I know no life can warm
Again that livid breast.
"The grave is now your bed, my child--
Go slumber there in peace."
"I cannot go," it answer'd mild,
"Until your sorrow cease.
"I've tried to rest in that dark bed,
But rest I cannot get,
For always with the tears you shed,
My winding-sheet is wet.
"The drops, dear mother, trickle still
Into my coffin deep;
It feels so comfortless and chill
I cannot go to sleep."
"O child those words, that touching look,
My fortitude restore;
I feel and own the blest rebuke,
And weep my loss no more."
She spoke, and dried her tears the while;
And as her passion fell,
The vision wore an angel smile,
And look'd a fond farewell.
THE GREEK AND ROMANTIC DRAMA.
The Drama, in its higher branches, is perhaps the greatest effort of
human genius. It requires for its successful cultivation, a combination
of qualities beyond what is necessary in any other department of
composition. A profound and practical acquaintance with human nature in
all its phases, and the human heart in all its changes, is the first
requisite of the Dramatic Poet. The power of condensed expression--the
faculty of giving vent to "thoughts that breathe in words that
burn"--the art of painting, by a line, an epithet, an expression, the
inmost and most intense feelings of the heart, is equally indispensable.
The skill of the novelist in arranging the incidents of the piece so as
to keep the attention of the spectators erect, and their interest
undiminished, is not less necessary. How requisite a knowledge of the
peculiar art called "stage effect," is to the success of dramatic pieces
on the theatre, may be judged of by the well-known failures in actual
representation of many striking pieces by our greatest tragic writers,
especially Miss Baillie and Lord Byron. The eloquence of the orator, the
power of wielding at will the emotions and passions of the heart, of
rousing alternately the glow of the generous, and the warmth of the
tender affections, is not less indispensable. The great dramatic poet
must add to this rare assemblage, a thorough acquaintance with the
characters and ideas of former times: with the lore of the historian, he
must embody in his
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