Christian mission, and may the Lord protect and prosper you! Your enslaved countrymen have my sympathy, and shall have my prayers." Thus ended our visit to the bard of Sheffield. Long after I had quitted the presence of the poet, the following lines of his were ringing in my ears:
"Wanderer, w hither dost thou roam?
Weary wanderer, old and gray,
Wherefore hast thou left thine home,
In the sunset of thy day?
Welcome, wanderer, as thou art,
All my blessings to partake;
Yet thrice welcome to my heart,
For thine injured people's sake.
Wanderer, whither wouldst thou roam?
To what region far away?
Bend thy steps to find a home,
In the twilight of thy day,
Where a tyrant never trod,
Where a slave was never known—
But where Nature worships God
In the wilderness alone."
Mr. Montgomery seems to have thrown his entire soul into his meditations on the wrongs of Switzerland. The poem which we have just quoted is unquestionably one of his best productions, and contains more of the fire of enthusiasm than all his other works. We feel a reverence almost amounting to superstition for the poet who deals with nature. And who is more capable of understanding the human heart than the poet? Who has better known the human feelings than Shakspeare; better
