Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 56, Number 349, November, 1844

And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber, while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection – thus, in sooth
To lose the sense of losing! As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,
Is sung to in its stead by mother's mouth;
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before."

How profound and yet how feminine is the sentiment! No man could have written that sonnet. It rises spontaneously from the heart of a Christian woman, which overflows with feelings more gracious and more graceful than ever man's can be. It teaches us what religious poetry truly is; for it makes affections inspired by the simplest things of earth, to illustrate, with the most artless beauty, the solemn consolations of the Cross.

The pointedness of the following religious sonnet is very striking and sublime. The text is, "And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter."

The Meaning of the Look

"I think that look of Christ might seem to say —
'Thou Peter! art thou then a common stone
Which I at last must break my heart upon,
For all God's charge, to his high angels, may
Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday
Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run
Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun, —
And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray? —
The cock crows coldly. – Go, and manifest
A late contrition, but no bootless fear!
For when thy deathly need is bitterest,
Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here —
My voice, to God and angels, shall attest, —
Because I know this man, let him be clear.'"

One more sonnet, and we bid adieu to these very favourable specimens of Miss Barrett's genius: —

Patience Taught by Nature

"'O dreary life!' we cry, 'O dreary life!'
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live while we are keeping strife
With heaven's true purpose in us, as a knife
Against which we may struggle. Ocean girds
Unslacken'd the dry land: savannah-swards
Unweary sweep: hills watch, unworn; and rife
Meek leaves drop yearly from the forest-trees,
To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass
In their old glory. O thou God of old!
Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these; —
But so much patience, as a blade of grass
Grows by contented through the heat and cold."

There is a poem in these volumes entitled the "Cry of the Human" – some stanzas of which are inspired by profound feeling, and written with a rare force and simplicity of style; but as other parts of it are obscure, and as it appears to us to be of very unequal merit, we shall not quote the whole of it. In addition to the faults which are to be found in the poem itself, its title is objectionable, as embodying one of Miss Barrett's worst mannerisms, and one for which we think that no allowance ought to be made. She is in the habit of employing certain adjectives in a substantive sense. She does so here. In other places she writes "Heaven assist the Human." "Leaning from my human," that is, stooping from my rank as a human being. In one passage she says,

"Till the heavenly Infinite
Falling off from our Created– "

nature being understood after the word "created." The word "divine" is one which she frequently employs in this substantive fashion. She also writes "Chanting down the Golden" – the golden what?

"Then the full sense of your mortal
Rush'd upon you deep and loud."

For "mortal," read "mortality." It is true that this practice may be defended to a certain extent by the example and authority of Milton. But Miss Barrett is mistaken if she supposes that her frequent and prominent use of such a form of speech, can be justified by the rare and unobtrusive instances of it which are to be found in the Paradise Lost. To use an anomalous expression two or three times in a poem consisting of many thousand lines, is a very different thing from bringing the same anomaly conspicuously forward, and employing it as a common and favourite mode of speech in a number of small poems. In the former case, it will be found that the expression is vindicated by the context, and by the circumstances under which it is employed; in the latter case it becomes a nuisance which cannot be too rigorously put down. One step further and we shall find ourselves talking, in the dialect of Yankeeland, of "us poor Humans!" However, as the point appears to us to be one which does not admit of controversy, we shall say no more on the subject, but shall proceed to the more agreeable duty of quoting the greater portion of Miss Barrett's poem, which may be regarded as a commentary on the prayer – "The Lord be merciful to us sinners."

The Cry of the Human

"'There is no God,' the foolish saith, —
But none, 'There is no sorrow;'
And nature oft, the cry of faith,
In bitter need will borrow:
Eyes, which the preacher could not school,
By wayside graves are raised;
And lips say, 'God be pitiful,'
Which ne'er said, 'God be praised.'
Be pitiful, O God!

"The curse of gold upon the land,
The lack of bread enforces —
The rail-cars snort from strand to strand,
Like more of Death's White horses!
The rich preach 'rights' and future days,
And hear no angel scoffing:
The poor die mute – with starving gaze
On corn-ships in the offing.
Be pitiful, O God!

"We meet together at the feast —
To private mirth betake us —
We stare down in the winecup, lest
Some vacant chair should shake us!
We name delight and pledge it round —
'It shall be ours to-morrow!'
God's seraphs! do your voices sound
As sad in naming sorrow?
Be pitiful, O God!

"We sit together with the skies,
The steadfast skies above us:
We look into each other's eyes, —
'And how long will you love us?' —
The eyes grow dim with prophecy,
The voices, low and breathless —