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THE N(lRwALK. GAZETTE.
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- NORVVA.fiK, CONN. TUESDAY, JANUART 1'2, .836:
NO. 9.
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TIE LITERARY CHROJYIICLE.
MR. WILLIS, THE 1>oi2l'r.
en, within our recollection, nil aspirant to ‘litera-
e claims have been so vehemently contested as
iillis. How much of this§lias grown out oi; a
ry nor, w
the of Mr.
I ‘ndiiectly, for his popularity. The admirers of
ll Willis h e not, until quite lately, when their services
h el t him . keep his foes at bay, like the French traveller
rest, \Lhen set upon by the wild animals, by the subdu-
eldy of, is music, until he could place himself upon an
H aboie the reach of their fangs. » But, having gained
I encci it cannot be supposed that he is insensible to
he protestations of friends ; on the contrary, confident
F1388 -e’~e voluntar homa e of his enemies no lon er such,
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‘Una?’ tll nfluence of his fame.
’ . M - jllis betrays, in his compositions, an inbred love of
‘liter 0 ,?,afervor which is heartfelt and innate, and which
3'9 Uainty that it will be the pleasure, as it may have been
me] 501‘: f his life, to enrich the stores of our common lan-i
_.;"3g » WL the treasures of his own inexhaustable intellect.--_
~t§9fflf{_lgly number of the'New_ York Mfirgr.cwehextract?-.the"
§v;::écimens of elegant writing-, for which we are indebt-7
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‘ ed to his pen.‘ Nlore ‘exquisite. poetic feeling—inore polished-
languageaglittemg like burnished steela-richer descriptive}
.talent—we have 3 where seen. Not even in the sketches otl
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‘Irving. Thenghliometimes fantastical and tawdry. from ex-T)
V ‘cess of ornat eat. There is a well elf
feeling whiclis s e to gush upward, and spread its softenin
e is never unnatural.
-4.», A RING DAY IN wiiwrizii.
’ A- spring ‘,iy some nes bursts upon us in December. One
tscarcety lmgs wh_eth the constant warmth of thefire, or the
fresh sunnyieathtng am the open win_dow, arethe most wel-
come, At s;ha tim the curtains swing lazily to the mild
iwind as it eiers, and e light green leaves of the ‘sheltered
. ‘flowers-stir at erect th selves with an out—of-door vigor, and
" the shuffledfeps and tinned voices_of the children in the
‘street, have rte loiteri_n' nd summer ltke_sound ot.June. I
do not trrrowphether it 1 ot_a cockney feeling, but with all my
qogye for the gantry. fixe s it is by the recollections of a life
inostly spentm the “g5 helds,” I'.son.ietimes. “babble of,"
-i pm.-gig gornggirrg in asui ‘er morning in the city, which the
we,’ warm Wgods, and e litar-5,, though lonely, haunts ofthe
ountry, do t, after 1 I “poetry that has been “spilt upon
hem,” (as sa At all equal. \Vhether it is that
.8 find 50 m ms athy‘ ‘the. many faces that we meet,
‘ ade happy by the me swrpt influences, or w_hat.cvcr else
8 be the reason, tesil n er take my morning walk on
W: a day, wirho leaping my heart, which from all I can
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gather by dream or revelation, has a touch in it of Paradise. I
returned once, on such a day, from an liottrs raiiihle after break-
fast. The air rushed past my temples with the grateful soft-
ness of spring, and every face that passed had the open, inhal-
ing expression, which was given by the simplejoy of existence.
The sky had the deep clearness of noon. The clouds were
winiiowed in light parallel curves, looking like white shells in-
laid on the arched heavens; the smooth, glassy bay, was likea
transparent abyss opening to the earth’s centre, and edging
away underneath, with aslope of hills and spires and leafless
woods, copied minutely and perfectly.from the upper laiid-
scape, and the naked elnis seemed almost clothed as the teem-
ing eye looked on them, and the brown liillstook a tcint ofgreen
---so freshly did the snininer fancies crowd into the brain with
the sumtner softness of the sunshine and air. The mood is
rare in which the sight of human faces does not give us pleas-
ure. It isa curious occupation to look on them as they pass,
and study their look and meaning, and wonder at the provi-
dence of God, which can provide in this crowded world, an ob-
ject and interest for all. \Vith what a singular harmony the
great machine of society goes on ! So many thousand minds
and each with its peculiar cast and its positive difference from
its fellow, and yet no dangerous interference, and no discord
audible above the hum of its daily revolution. Icould not
help feeling a religious thrill, as I passed face after face, with
this thought in my mind, and saw each one earnest and cheer-
ful, each one pressing on with its own object without waiting or
caring for the equally engrossing object of the other. The man
of business went on with an absorbed look, caring only'to thread
his way rapidly along the street. The student strided by with
the step of exercise, his lips parted to admit the pleasant air to
his refreshed lungs, and his eye wandering with bewildered pleas-
ure from object to object. The schoolboy looked wistfully up
and down the street, and lingered till the last stroke of the bell
summoned him tardily in. The womanish school-girl, with
her veil coquettishly drawn, still flirted with her boyish ad-
mirer, though itwas “after nine.” and the child. with its soil-
ed satchel and shining face, loitered seriously along the side-
walk, making acquaintance with every dog, and ‘picking up
every stone on its unwilling way. The spell of the atmos-
phere was universal, and yet all kept on their several courses,
and the busy harmony of employment went steadily and un-
brokenly on. How rarely we turn upon ourselves and remem-
ber how wonderfully we are made and governed 3
_ THE POE1.‘ SHELLY. ,
Shelly has a IWIV’-ate nook in my affections. He is so unlike
all other poets that Il cannot mate him. I-In »
ever up in the thin air with Byron the saga‘. --u-‘,8lub_
Keats lowfind sweetly like the rtmis , nor, like the dove sitting
always upon her nest,_brooti‘witl_i \Vordsworth over_the affec-
tions. He begins to sing when the morning wakes him and as
he grows wild with his own song, he mounts upward,
“And singing ever soars, and soaring ever siiigeth z_'’ .
and it is wonderful how he loses himself, like the delirious bird
in the T sky, and a verse which'may well be compared for its
fine delicacy with her ‘little wings, penetrates its far depths
fearlessly and fullofjoy. There is sometliing very new in
this mingled trait of fineness and sublxinity.. lVIilton and By-
ron seem made for the sky. Their broad wings always strke
the air with the same solemn majesty. But Shelley near the
ground, is a very “bird in a bower,” running through his merry
compass asif he never dreamed of the upward and invisible
heavens. Withal, Shelley's genius is too firey to be moody.
He was a melancholy man, but it was because he was crossed
intlie daily walk oflife, and such anxieties did not touch his
imagination. It was above---far, far above them. His poetry
was not, like that of other poets, linked with his common in-
terests: and if it “unbound the serpent of care from his heart,”
as it doubtless (lid. it was by making him forget that it was
there. He conceived and wrote in a wizard circle. The illtb-
Norwalk Chronicler