C opyist of Nature—simply, sternly true,— R eal the scenes that in thy page we view. “A mid the huts where poor men lie” unknown, B right humor or deep pathos thou hast thrown. B ard of the “Borough” and the “Village,” see— E ’en haughty Byron owns he’s charm’d by thee. WALTER SCOTT. W ondrous Wizard of the North, A rmed with spells of potent worth! L ike to that greatest Bard of ours T he mighty magic of thy powers: E ’en thy bright fancy’s offspring find R esemblance to his myriad mind. S uch the creations that we see— C haracter, manners, life in thee— O f Scotia’s deeds, a proud display, T he glories of a bygone day; T hy genius foremost stands in all her long array. WORDSWORTH. W andering, through many a year, ’mongst Cumbria’s hills, O ’er her wild fells, sweet vales, and sunny lakes, R ich stores of thought thy musing mind distils, D ay-dreams of poesy thy soul awakes:— S uch was thy life—a poet’s life, I ween; W orshipper thou of Nature! every scene O f beauty stirred thy fancy’s deeper mood, R eflection calmed the current of thy blood: T hus in the wide “Excursion” of thy mind, H igh thoughts in _words_ of _worth_ we still may find. IRVING. I n easy, natural, graceful charm of style, R esembling Goldy’s “Vicar,”—free from guile: V ein of rich humor through thy “Sketch-Book” flows. I magination her bright colors shows. N o equal hast thou ’mongst thy brother band, G enial thy soul, worthy our own loved land. MACREADY. M aster Tragedian! worthy all our praise. A ction and utterance such as bygone days C ould oftener boast, were thine. Need we but name R oman Virginius? while our Shakspeare’s fame E ver ’twas thy chief joy and pride to uprear, A nd give us back Macbeth, Othello, Lear. D elight to thousands oft thou gav’st, and now Y ears of calm lettered ease ’tis thine to know. LONGFELLOW. L ays like thine have many a charm; O ft thy themes the heart must warm. N ow o’er Slavery’s guilt and woes, G rief and shame’s deep hues it throws; F ar up Alpine heights is heard “E xcelsior,” now the stirring word; “L ife’s Psalm,” now, onward is inviting, L ongings for nobler deeds exciting; O ’er Britain now resounds thy name, W hile States unborn shall swell thy fame. SOUTHEY.