thought, with the world's tyrant rage A patient warfare thy young heart did wage, When those soft eyes of scarcely conscious thought Some tale, or thine own fancies, would engage To overflow with tears, or converse fraught With passion o'er their depths its fleeting light had wrought. Shelley.
And I smiled, as one never smiles but once; Then first discovering my own aim's extent, Which sought to comprehend the works of God, And God himself, and all God's intercourse With the human mind. Browning
Tieck, who has embodied so many Runic secrets, explained to me what I have often felt toward myself, when he tells of the poor changeling, who, turned from the door of her adopted home, sat down on a stone and so pitied herself that she wept.
Yet me also, the wonderful bird, singing in the wild forest, has tempted on, and not in vain.
Thus wrote Margaret in the noon of life, when looking back through youth to the dewy dawn of memory.
She was the eldest child of Timothy Fuller
tience, labor, to their hearts and hands, From thy hands, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer, And God's grace fructify through thee to all. Elizabeth B. Barrett.
While I was restless, nothing satisfied, Distrustful, most perplexed—yet felt somehow A mighty power was brooding, taking shape Within me; and this lasted till one night When, as I sat revolving it and more, A still voice from without said,—‘Seest thou not, Desponding child, whence came defeat and loss? Even from thy strength.’ Browning.
Heaven's discipline has been invariable to me. The seemingly most pure and noble hopes have beer blighted; the seemingly most promising connections broken.
The lesson has been endlessly repeated: Be humble, patient, self-sustaining; hope only for occasional aids; love others, but not engrossingly, for by being much alone your appointed task can best be done!
What a weary work is before me, ere that lesson shall be fully learned!
Who shall wonder at the stiff-necked, and rebellious
way In some time, God's good time, I shall arrive He guides me and the bird.
In his good time! Browning
One, who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment, to which Heaven has joined Great e you free from all that heap Of sins, which had been irredeemable? I felt they were not yours. Browning.
Nests there are many of this very year, Many the nests are, which the winds shall shake, Clissold, but I had not time; shall find it, if in London again.
Tennyson was not in town.
Browning has just married Miss Barrett, and gone to Italy.
I may meet them there.
Bailey is helping hiee the Brownings often, and love and admire them both, more and more, as I know them better.
Mr. Browning enriches every hour I pass with him, and is a most cordial, true, and noble man. One of my moy of her nature,—and some English residents in Florence, among whom I need only name Mr. and Mrs. Browning, to satisfy the most anxious friends of Madame Ossoli that the last months of her Italian li
on it, I would die: so preserving through my course God full on me, as I was full on men: And He would grant my prayer—‘I have gone through All loveliness of life; make more for me, If not for men,—or take me to Thyself, Eternal, Infinite Love!’ Browning.
Till another open for me In God's Eden-land unknown, With an angel at the doorway, White with gazing at His Throne; And a saint's voice in the palm-trees, singing,—‘all is lost, and won.’ Elizabeth Barrett.
La ne venimmo: e lo scagliof ocean lie behind; they are nearly home.
There are blind ways provided, the foredone Heart-weary player in this pageant world Drops out by, letting the main masque defile By the conspicuous portal:—I am through, Just through. Browning.
On Thursday, July 18th, at noon, the Elizabeth was off the Jersey coast, somewhere between Cape May and Barnegat; and, as the weather was thick, with a fresh breeze blowing from the east of south, the officer in command, desirous to