Part 1
FEBRUARY, 1850.
A LIST OF BOOKS
PUBLISHED BY
EDWARD MOXON, 44, DOVER STREET.
MISCELLANEOUS.
HAYDN’S DICTIONARY OF DATES, and UNIVERSAL REFERENCE, relating to all Ages and Nations; comprehending every Remarkable Occurrence, Ancient and Modern--the Foundation, Laws, and Governments of Countries--their Progress in Civilisation, Industry, and Science--their Achievements in Arms; the Political and Social Transactions of the British Empire--its Civil, Military, and Religious Institutions--the Origin and Advance of Human Arts and Inventions, with copious details of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The whole comprehending a body of information, Classical, Political, and Domestic, from the earliest accounts to the present time. FOURTH EDITION. In one volume 8vo, price 18_s._ cloth.
SHARPE’S HISTORY OF EGYPT, from the Earliest Times till the Conquest by the Arabs in A.D. 640. SECOND EDITION. In one volume 8vo, price 12_s._ cloth.
NAPIER’S (CAPT. HENRY) FLORENTINE HISTORY, from the Earliest Authentic Records to the Accession of Ferdinand the Third, Grand Duke of Tuscany. In six volumes small 8vo, price 2_l._ 14_s._ cloth.
THE WORKS OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. In two volumes medium 8vo, price 32_s._ cloth.
By the AUTHOR of “TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST.”
DANA’S SEAMAN’S MANUAL; containing a Treatise on Practical Seamanship, with Plates; a Dictionary of Sea Terms; Customs and Usages of the Merchant Service; Laws relating to the Practical Duties of Master and Mariners. FOURTH EDITION. Price 5_s._ cloth.
HINTS ON HORSEMANSHIP, to a NEPHEW and NIECE; or Common Sense and Common Errors in Common Riding. By Colonel GEORGE GREENWOOD, late of the Second Life Guards. Price 2_s._ 6_d._
CAPTAIN BASIL HALL’S FRAGMENTS OF VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. A NEW EDITION. In one volume 8vo, price 12_s._ cloth.
LIFE IN THE SICK-ROOM: ESSAYS. By AN INVALID. THIRD EDITION. Price 3_s._ 6_d._ cloth.
GOETHE’S FAUST. Translated into English Prose, with Notes. By A. HAYWARD, Esq. FOURTH EDITION. Price 2_s._ 6_d._ sewed, or 3_s._ 6_d._ cloth, gilt edges.
HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION. By HARRIET MARTINEAU. Price 6_s._ cloth.
SELECTIONS FROM THE TATLER, SPECTATOR, GUARDIAN AND FREEHOLDER. With a Preliminary Essay, by Mrs. BARBAULD. In two volumes, small 8vo, price 10_s._ cloth.
EASTERN LIFE, PRESENT AND PAST. By HARRIET MARTINEAU. In three volumes post 8vo, price 31_s._ 6_d._ cloth.
LIFE, LETTERS, AND LITERARY REMAINS OF JOHN KEATS. Edited by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES. In two volumes fcap. 8vo, price 14_s._ cloth.
THOUGHTS ON SELF-CULTURE, ADDRESSED TO WOMEN. By MARIA G. GREY, and her sister, EMILY SHIRREFF. In two volumes post 8vo, price 16_s._ cloth.
DISRAELI’S WORKS.
CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE. FOURTEENTH EDITION. With a View of the Character and Writings of the Author. By his Son, B. DISRAELI, Esq., M.P. In three volumes 8vo, price 42_s._ cloth.
MISCELLANIES OF LITERATURE. In one volume 8vo, with Vignette, price 14_s._ cloth.
CONTENTS:
1. LITERARY MISCELLANIES. 2. QUARRELS OF AUTHORS. 3. CALAMITIES OF AUTHORS. 4. THE LITERARY CHARACTER. 5. CHARACTER OF JAMES THE FIRST.
LAMB’S WORKS.
THE ESSAYS OF ELIA. In one volume small 8vo, price 6_s._ cloth.
ROSAMUND GRAY, ESSAYS AND POEMS. In one volume small 8vo, price 6_s._ cloth.
THE LETTERS OF CHARLES LAMB, with a Sketch of his Life. By T. N. TALFOURD. In one volume small 8vo, price 6_s._ cloth.
FINAL MEMORIALS OF CHARLES LAMB; consisting chiefly of his LETTERS NOT BEFORE PUBLISHED, with SKETCHES OF SOME OF HIS COMPANIONS. By T. N. TALFOURD. In two volumes post 8vo, price 18_s._ cloth.
DYCE’S BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER; the Text formed from a new collation of the early Editions. With Notes and a Biographical Memoir. By the Rev. A. DYCE. In eleven volumes demy 8vo, price 4_l._ 4_s._ cloth.
WORDSWORTH’S POEMS.
WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS. In seven volumes foolscap 8vo, price 35_s._ cloth.
WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS. In six pocket volumes, price 21_s._ handsomely bound in cloth, gilt edges.
WORDSWORTH’S POETICAL WORKS. In one volume medium 8vo, price 20_s._ cloth, or 36_s._ elegantly bound in morocco.
WORDSWORTH’S EXCURSION. A POEM. In one volume, price 6_s._ cloth.
SELECT PIECES FROM THE POEMS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. In one volume, illustrated by Woodcuts, price 6_s._ 6_d._ cloth, gilt edges.
TENNYSON’S POEMS.
TENNYSON’S POEMS. SIXTH EDITION. Price 9_s._ cloth.
TENNYSON’S PRINCESS: A MEDLEY. THIRD EDITION. Price 5_s._ cloth.
CAMPBELL’S POEMS.
CAMPBELL’S POETICAL WORKS. A NEW EDITION. In one volume, illustrated by 20 Vignettes from designs by Turner, and 37 Woodcuts from designs by Harvey. Price 20_s._ cloth, or 34_s._ elegantly bound in morocco.
CAMPBELL’S POETICAL WORKS. In one pocket volume, illustrated by numerous Woodcuts, price 8_s._ cloth, or 16_s._ 6_d._ elegantly bound in morocco.
SHELLEY’S WORKS.
SHELLEY’S POEMS, ESSAYS, AND LETTERS FROM ABROAD. Edited by MRS. SHELLEY. In one volume medium 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 15_s._ cloth.
SHELLEY’S POETICAL WORKS. Edited by MRS. SHELLEY. In three volumes foolscap 8vo, price 15_s._ cloth.
ROGERS’S POEMS.
ROGERS’S POEMS. In one volume, illustrated by 72 Vignettes, from designs by Turner and Stothard, price 16_s._ cloth, or 30_s._ elegantly bound in morocco.
ROGERS’S ITALY. In one volume, illustrated by 56 Vignettes, from designs by Turner and Stothard, price 16_s._ cloth, or 30_s._ elegantly bound in morocco.
ROGERS’S POEMS; AND ITALY. In two pocket volumes, illustrated by numerous Woodcuts, price 10_s._ cloth, or 28_s._ elegantly bound in morocco.
HOOD’S WORKS.
HOOD’S POEMS. THIRD EDITION. In two volumes, price 12_s._ cloth.
HOOD’S POEMS OF WIT AND HUMOUR. SECOND EDITION. Price 6_s._ cloth.
HOOD’S OWN; OR LAUGHTER FROM YEAR TO YEAR. A NEW EDITION. In one volume 8vo, illustrated by 350 Woodcuts, price 10_s._ 6_d._ cloth.
CHAUCER AND SPENSER.
CHAUCER’S POETICAL WORKS. With an ESSAY on his LANGUAGE AND VERSIFICATION, and an INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE; together with NOTES and a GLOSSARY. By THOMAS TYRWHITT. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 16_s._ cloth.
SPENSER’S WORKS. With a Selection of NOTES from various Commentators; and a GLOSSARIAL INDEX: to which is prefixed some account of the LIFE of Spenser. By the Rev. HENRY JOHN TODD. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 16_s._ cloth.
DRAMATIC LIBRARY.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. With an INTRODUCTION. By GEORGE DARLEY. In two volumes 8vo, with Portraits and Vignettes, price 32_s._ cloth.
SHAKSPEARE. With REMARKS on his LIFE and WRITINGS. By THOMAS CAMPBELL. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait, Vignette, and Index, price 16_s._ cloth.
BEN JONSON. With a MEMOIR. By WILLIAM GIFFORD. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 16_s._ cloth.
MASSINGER AND FORD. With an INTRODUCTION. By HARTLEY COLERIDGE. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 16_s._ cloth.
WYCHERLEY, CONGREVE, VANBRUGH, AND FARQUHAR. With BIOGRAPHICAL and CRITICAL NOTICES. By LEIGH HUNT. In one volume 8vo, with Portrait and Vignette, price 16_s._ cloth.
SHERIDAN’S DRAMATIC WORKS. With a BIOGRAPHICAL and CRITICAL SKETCH. By LEIGH HUNT. In one volume 8vo, price 4_s._ 6_d._ cloth.
POETRY. _s._ _d._
MILNES’S POEMS OF MANY YEARS 5 0
---- MEMORIALS OF MANY SCENES 5 0
---- POEMS LEGENDARY AND HISTORICAL 5 0
---- PALM LEAVES 5 0
TRENCH’S JUSTIN MARTYR, and other Poems 6 0
BROWNING’S SORDELLO 6 6
TAYLOR’S EVE OF THE CONQUEST 3 6
LANDOR’S HELLENICS 6 0
(In 2 4mo.)
ROGERS’S POETICAL WORKS 2 6
CAMPBELL’S POETICAL WORKS 2 6
TALFOURD’S (MR. JUSTICE) TRAGEDIES 2 6
TAYLOR’S PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE 2 6
---- EDWIN THE FAIR, &c. 2 6
BARRY CORNWALL’S SONGS 2 6
LEIGH HUNT’S POETICAL WORKS 2 6
KEATS’S POETICAL WORKS 2 6
SHELLEY’S MINOR POEMS 2 6
PERCY’S RELIQUES. 3 volumes 7 6
LAMB’S DRAMATIC SPECIMENS. 2 volumes 5 0
DODD’S BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE 2 6
CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR WORKS.
_s._ _d._
SHELLEY’S ESSAYS AND LETTERS 5 0
SEDGWICK’S LETTERS FROM ABROAD 2 6
DANA’S TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 2 6
CLEVELAND’S VOYAGES AND COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISES 2 6
ELLIS’S EMBASSY TO CHINA 2 6
PRINGLE’S RESIDENCE IN SOUTH AFRICA 2 6
HUNT’S INDICATOR, AND COMPANION 3 6
---- THE SEER; OR, COMMON-PLACES REFRESHED 3 6
LAMB’S TALES FROM SHAKSPEARE 2 6
---- ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES. TO WHICH IS ADDED, MRS. LEICESTER’S SCHOOL 2 0
HALL’S VOYAGE TO LOO-CHOO 2 6
---- TRAVELS IN SOUTH AMERICA 3 6
* * * * *
LAMB’S POETICAL WORKS 1 6
BAILLIE’S (JOANNA) FUGITIVE VERSES 1 0
SHAKSPEARE’S POEMS 1 0
[Bradbury & Evans, Printers, Whitefriars.]
* * * * *
IN MEMORIAM.
IN MEMORIAM.
LONDON: EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET.
1850.
LONDON: BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why; He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine, The highest, holiest manhood, thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight; We mock thee when we do not fear: But help thy foolish ones to bear; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.
Forgive what seem’d my sin in me; What seem’d my worth since I began; For merit lives from man to man, And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed, Thy creature, whom I found so fair. I trust he lives in thee, and there I find him worthier to be loved.
Forgive these wild and wandering cries, Confusions of a wasted youth; Forgive them where they fail in truth, And in thy wisdom make me wise.
1849.
IN MEMORIAM
A. H. H.
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII.
I.
I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
But who shall so forecast the years And find in loss a gain to match? Or reach a hand thro’ time to catch The far-off interest of tears?
Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown’d, Let darkness keep her raven gloss; Ah! sweeter to be drunk with loss, To dance with death, to beat the ground;
Than that the victor Hours should scorn The long result of love, and boast: ‘Behold the man that loved and lost, But all he was is overworn.’
II.
Old Yew, which graspest at the stones That name the under-lying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head; Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.
The seasons bring the flower again, And bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock Beats out the little lives of men.
O! not for thee the glow, the bloom, Who changest not in any gale! Nor branding summer suns avail To touch thy thousand years of gloom.
And gazing on the sullen tree, Sick for thy stubborn hardihood, I seem to fail from out my blood, And grow incorporate into thee.
III.
O sorrow, cruel fellowship! O Priestess in the vaults of Death! O sweet and bitter in a breath, What whispers from thy lying lip?
‘The stars,’ she whispers, ‘blindly run; A web is wov’n across the sky; From out waste places comes a cry, And murmurs from the dying sun:
‘And all the phantom, Nature, stands-- With all her music in her tone, A hollow echo of my own,-- A hollow form with empty hands.’
And shall I take a thing so blind, Embrace her as my natural good; Or crush her, like a vice of blood, Upon the threshold of the mind?
IV.
To Sleep I give my powers away; My will is bondsman to the dark; I sit within a helmless bark, And with my heart I muse and say:
‘O heart, how fares it with thee now, That thou should’st fail from thy desire, Who scarcely darest to inquire What is it makes me beat so low?’
Something it is which thou hast lost, Some pleasure from thine early years. Break, thou deep vase of chilling tears, That grief hath shaken into frost!
Such clouds of nameless trouble cross All night below the darken’d eyes; With morning wakes the will, and cries, ‘Thou shalt not be the fool of loss.’
V.
I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain, A use in measur’d language lies; The sad mechanic exercise Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I’ll wrap me o’er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold; But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more.
VI.
One writes, that ‘Other friends remain,’ That ‘Loss is common to the race’-- And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.
O father, wheresoe’er thou be, That pledgest now thy gallant son; A shot, ere half thy draught be done Hath still’d the life that beat from thee.
O mother, praying God will save Thy sailor,--while thy head is bow’d, His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave.
Ye know no more than I who wrought At that last hour to please him well; Who mused on all I had to tell, And something written, something thought;
Expecting still his advent home; And ever met him on his way With wishes, thinking, here to-day, Or here to-morrow will he come.
O! somewhere, meek unconscious dove, That sittest ranging golden hair; And glad to find thyself so fair, Poor child, that waitest for thy love!
For now her father’s chimney glows In expectation of a guest; And thinking ‘this will please him best,’ She takes a riband or a rose;
For he will see them on to-night; And with the thought her colour burns; And, having left the glass, she turns Once more to set a ringlet right;
And, even when she turn’d, the curse Had fallen, and her future Lord Was drown’d in passing thro’ the ford, Or kill’d in falling from his horse.
O, what to her shall be the end? And what to me remains of good? To her, perpetual maidenhood, And unto me, no second friend.
VII.
Dark house, by which once more I stand Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasp’d no more-- Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.
VIII.
A happy lover who has come To look on her that loves him well, Who lights and rings the gateway bell And learns her gone and far from home,
He saddens, all the magic light Dies off at once from bower and hall, And all the place is dark, and all The chambers emptied of delight;
So find I every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber and the street, For all is dark where thou art not.
Yet as that other, wandering there In those deserted walks, may find A flower beat with rain and wind, Which once she foster’d up with care;
So seems it in my deep regret, O my forsaken heart, with thee And this poor flower of poesy Which little cared for fades not yet.
But since it pleased a vanish’d eye I go to plant it on his tomb, That if it can it there may bloom, Or dying there at least may die.
IX.
Fair ship, that from the Italian shore, Sailest the placid ocean-plains With my lost Arthur’s loved remains, Spread thy full wings, and waft him o’er.
So draw him home to those that mourn In vain; a favourable speed Ruffle thy mirror’d mast, and lead Thro’ prosperous floods his holy urn.
All night no ruder air perplex Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright As our pure love, thro’ early light Shall glimmer on the dewy decks.
Sphere all your lights around, above; Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow; Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now, My friend, the brother of my love.
My Arthur! whom I shall not see Till all my widow’d race be run; Dear as the mother to the son, More than my brothers are to me.
X.
I hear the noise about thy keel; I hear the bell struck in the night; I see the cabin-window bright; I see the sailor at the wheel.
Thou bringest the sailor to his wife, And travell’d men from foreign lands; And letters unto trembling hands; And, thy dark freight, a vanish’d life.
So bring him: we have idle dreams: This look of quiet flatters thus Our home-bred fancies: O to us, The fools of habit, sweeter seems
To rest beneath the clover sod, That takes the sunshine and the rains, Or where the kneeling hamlet drains The chalice of the grapes of God;
Than if with thee the roaring wells Should gulf him fathom deep in brine; And hands so often clasp’d in mine, Should toss with tangle and with shells.
XI.
Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro’ the faded leaf The chesnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze, And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain That sweeps with all its autumn bowers, And crowded farms and lessening towers, To mingle with the bounding main:
Calm and deep peace in this wide air, These leaves that redden to the fall; And in my heart, if calm at all, If any calm, a calm despair:
Calm on the seas, and silver sleep, And waves that sway themselves in rest, And dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
XII.
Lo! as a dove when up she springs To hear thro’ Heaven a tale of woe, Some dolorous message knit below The wild pulsation of her wings;
Like her I go: I cannot stay; I leave this mortal ark behind, A weight of nerves without a mind, And leave the cliffs, and haste away
O’er ocean mirrors rounded large, And reach the glow of southern skies, And see the sails at distance rise, And linger weeping on the marge,
And saying; ‘Comes he thus, my friend? Is this the end of all my care?’ And circle moaning in the air: ‘Is this the end? Is this the end?’
And forward dart again, and play About the prow, and back return To where the body sits, and learn, That I have been an hour away.
XIII.
Tears of the widower, when he sees A late-lost form that sleep reveals, And moves his doubtful arms, and feels Her place is empty, fall like these;
Which weep a loss for ever new, A void where heart on heart reposed; And, where warm hands have prest and closed, Silence, till I be silent too.
Which weep the comrade of my choice, An awful thought, a life removed, The human-hearted man I loved, A spirit, not a breathing voice.
Come Time, and teach me many years I do not suffer in a dream; For now so strange do these things seem, Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;
My fancies time to rise on wing, And glance about the approaching sails, As tho’ they brought but merchants’ bales, And not the burthen that they bring.
XIV.
If one should bring me this report, That thou hadst touch’d the land to-day, And I went down unto the quay, And found thee lying in the port,
And standing, muffled round with woe, Should see thy passengers in rank Come stepping lightly down the plank, And beckoning unto those they know,
And if along with these should come The man I held as half-divine; Should strike a sudden hand in mine, And ask a thousand things of home;
And I should tell him all my pain, And how my life had droop’d of late, And he should sorrow o’er my state And marvel what possess’d my brain;
And I perceived no touch of change, No hint of death in all his frame, But found him all in all the same, I should not feel it to be strange.
XV.
To night the winds began to rise And roar from yonder dropping day: The last red leaf is whirl’d away, The rooks are blown about the skies;