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340 of the work, and all those brave men, who had | with Coleridge's pet phrase, “the reading | babble about them quite too much. They emulated the examples of their officers, were swept public.” We cannot speak of one of them claim to be exquisitely alive to beauty of away, as though a whirlwind had passed along without speaking of all; and their peculiari all kinds, and rave about things sweet and The grenadier gave his war-cry once more before he pitched headlong among his enemies; while ties, with the space they fill in modern litera- lovely without stint; but their devotion to Pitcairn fell back into the arms of his own child. ture, make them worthy of some notice.

the tender and pretty is not true to nature, The cry of forward, 47th,' rung through their ranks, All tale-makers by profession, must love or rather it belongs to a poor, weakly, and in their turn this veteran battalion gallantly the marvellous; but the authors of these sickened nature ;-moreover the beauty mounted the ramparts. In the shallow ditch Lionel works differ from their fellow-wanderers in which they do affect, is not of the purest passed the dying marine, and caught the dying and the land of fiction, in the character of this and noblest kind; they would think the despairing look from his eyes, and in another instant he found himself in the presence of his foes. propensity. They seek the marvellous Medicean Venus improved by putting a As company followed company into the defenceless earnestly, obstinately; but they seek that delicate peach bloom upon ber cheek, and redoubt, the Americans sullenly retired by its rear, which is strange in sentiment and passion, a rosebud to her nose, and dropping ber keeping the bayonets of the soldiers at bay with and not in circumstance and incident; they eyelids with an expression of melancholy elubbed muskets and sinewy arms. When the affect the wonders of the world within, and tenderness. So, too, their language is for whole issued upon the open ground, the husban,men received a close and fatal fire from the battalions busy themselves far less with external things. the most part quaint and affected; they which were now gathering around them on three Love is in their works, as in all others of the seek for obsolete words and idioms, and sides. A scene of wild and savage confusion then imagination, a master passion, and all or al- bave pet phrases, and are a little apt to succeeded to the order of the fight, and many fatal most all the interest of the tale is connected write as if an accumulation of strange and blows were given and taken, the mêlée rendering with it; but they speak almost exclusively affected expressions was fine writing of the the use of fire-arms nearly impossible for several of the workings of this passion, of the forms most original character. Nevertheless large minutes.

it assumes, the thoughts and feelings which parts of many of their works are eminently But in no place, as has been demonstrat- grow out of it, and its growth, and progress, interesting and eloquent. The reason of ed in the Pilot, is- Mr Cooper so much at and power in the heart. But little effort is this is, that some of these authors have home, as among the sons of Neptune. The employed to make the events which occa- minds of quite a superior order, and work young midshipman, though present but for a sion it, or disturb-or prosper it, interesting hard in their vocation; and every thing few pages, is distinguished by those master in themselves. The story is important only which bears the distinct impress of a strong ly touches, which mark the favourite sub- as it is the foundation for the descriptions. and original intellect, must be interesting. ject of an artist. The execution of the va. In this respect they may not seem to differ But the efforts of these master minds might, rious characters is of course unequal. That from all the best modern novels ; but in the as we think, have been made more producof Burgoyne particularly, we regard as a Waverley novels—to take them as an in. tive of pleasure and profit to their readers failure.

stance-ihe descriptions are, and are in and to themselves; we have always believed We had marked several faults of minor tended to be, of exciting and natural that the popularity which these books atimportance in the course of two several

character. The power of the author of tained, was excessive, and could not be perusals of this work; they are principally these tales, is manifested in the truth and permanent however of a kind, which has been noticed force with which he portrays, not merely The “ Human Heart" seems to us just in various criticisms of his preceding works. possible, but probable passions, and shows about equal in its literary merits to the We are, morever, glad to avail ourselves of them in their effects. His best characters average of its class. It contains eight tales, the excuse afforded us by the consideration are singular from their strengtb or peculiar most of which are abundantly old. For of the space already occupied by this arti traits ; but they are all such as the circum- instance, the second story relates the incle to omit this disagrecable part of our stances in which they live and which have famous brutality of Colonel Kirk, who seofice. We trust that our readers will find formed them, may well make of human be- duced the sister of a prisoner by the promise the extracts from this work sufficiently in- ings. But the writers of the works which of pardon for her brother, and showed to her teresting to compensate the omission of form that class to which the book now un- the corpse of that brother, hanging from the strictures, whose place they have an- der notice belongs, make their heroes and the gallows, when she had fulfilled her exticipated. It remains for us only to say a heroines love and hate, and hope and fear, torted promise. But the last tale is the few words of the relative merits of this, and enjoy and suffer excessively, that is, far most singular, and to us the most interest. when compared with the former works of beyond the occasion. Scott makes his peo- ing. It is founded upon, or rather suggested the same author. Considered as a work of ple act out their feelings; but these writers by the following passage of an old book. genius it is perhaps superior to the Spy, make theirs talk about them. To close this and inferior to the Pioneers or the Pilot, contrast, we should say, that Scott seeks for haunted by a most strange phantom, the presence

I once did heare of a great foreign lord, who was while in point of literary execution it ex- that which is striking in the true and prob- of which was so dreadful. that it drove him for the cels them all; and if it shall be decided to able, and endeavours to paint it truly and time to madnesse. Some folke would say that the be less interesting on the whole than the forcibly; while these writers aim at describ- nobleman did only see himself, or that his conscience two latter, it must be admitted that it con- ing eloquently state sof the mind and heart did appear before his eyes in a human shape. tains fewer parts that are absolutely tedi- which are uncommon, and indicate extra the words of the learned Master Burton, 10 bethink

Therefore, young men, I would admonish ye, in ous, and fewer offences against good taste. ordinary intellectual and moral constitvyourselves, that “after many pleasant daies, and We hope he may find, in the remaining tions, and owe most of their interest to their fortunate adventures

, and merry tides, this conprovinces, subjects as good that afforded strangeness.

science doth not at last arrest us. - As the prodigal Bay Colony,” and we have no Their great want is of truth and simplicity;

son had dainty fire, sweet music, at first, merty comdoubt he will use them to as good purpose. and yet they suppose, or affect to suppose, the end, as bitter as wormwool."

pany, jovial entertainment, but a cruel reckoning in that they are true to nature and simple as The Young Man's Looking-Glasse." The Human Heart. New York. 1825. 12mo. are delighted with natural objects altogether fierce and stern emotion, and strong dechildren. They love external nature, and

It exhibits rather more endeavour after beyond measure. We do not doubt, that scription, than is usual with writers of this This book belongs to a peculiar class, and in the love and pleasure which they so class; but it will serve reasonably well to is distinctly marked with the characteristics vehemently and perpetually express, there illustrate the characteristics of this book of that class. Large editions of such works is much sincerity; but we give them credit and its brethren; and as it may also amuse as the “ Lights and Shadows of Scottish for mingling with it a sufficiency of affecta

our readers, we shall make a long extract Life,” “ The Steam Boat,” “ Adam Blair,” | tion. Rainbows and flowers are beautiful,

from it. &c. have found many and ready purchasers but they are fleeting things, and the joy both in Great Britain and here, and they which their presence may give is hardly consciousness many long, weary hours before I

1 had been ill almost unto death. I awoke into are well known to all novel-readers ;-a worth living for altogether; and though could speak, and I saw about my bed many pleas word which has become almost coextensive green fields are fair to look upon, one may I ing forms; I could just distinguish that their gar

by the “

pp. 194.

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ments were those of some religious order. One of my shoulders, and the face that was toine, yet not was then strikingly handsome, though I was alrvays them, whose countenance was very mild, whose my own, close to my face; and if, by chance, I too proud to be vain. I soon found that my alliance voice wiis like gentle music, would sometimes stand stood alone in the midst of some brilliant saloon, was courted by many of my noble countrymen, but and gaze upon me, or touch my burning hands with the phantom would approach me and link his arm I never had a thought of marrying, till I be held a bei soft, cool fingers. She was the superior of the within mine, and look round at the company, and young foreigner, an English maiden of high rank, sisterhood, and had lived since her youth (a period then point its finger in my face, and say, "They are who had come to Naples for the recovery of her of thirty years) within that convent. They quitted all staring at us. Such a reality was attached to health. I bebeld her for the first time sitting in one the room, and for the first time the phantom ap- his presence, that I could never for the time per of the marble porticoes of my own palace, and my peared. He stood beside the bed in my own form. suade myself we were not observed.--) fled to heart whispered to me with a tumultuous enthu11 and pale he seemed, but the working of a stronger solitude-the phantom went with me. Once, when siasm, that she should become the mistress of the power than sickness was seen upon his face. He walking on the shore of the Mediterranean, far from abode she thus graced with her presence The sat down on the bed close to me. I had no fear of any abode of man, with a broad barren heath on one Lady Gertrude L- had accompanied her father him at first, but I shrunk away rather in anger than side of me, and the boundless ocean on the other, I, and some Italian noblemen to see a celebrated picaffright-I was then in a strangely confused state. perceived a little boat rocking to and fro on the ture by Correggio, then in my passession. She had I fell into a heavy sleep, but a low, distinct voice calm waves; two men were in it, and struck, I sup- been rather fatigued in ascending the beautiful emisoon awoke me, and I beheld the same figure sitting pose, by the richness of my dress, they landed, and nence on which my palace stood, and had sat down beside me. As my eyes opened, he drew closer attempted to rob me. I slew them both; and, in a portico overlooking the glorious Bay. I had and bent down his face over mine. I started up, scarcely knowing what I did, leaped into the empty never beheld so lovely a being. As I gazed upon but the face was still close to mine; and when, ex- boat, and, raising the little sail, put out to sea. I her, I could almost have persuaded myself that she hausted with the effort, I dropped back on the bed, sailed on, far from the sight of any shore, and began was some perfect statue of Parian marble; her it was bent over me, just as before. I raised my to hope that I should die upon the wide desolate delicately slender form--her white garments, flowhand to thrust it away, but the phantom face could waste of waters. I saw with delight the dark clouds ing over the marble pavement—her fair hands, not be thrust away-it was even as the thin air. I gathering in heaps about the horizon, to the wind clasped together and resting on her knees--her shut my eyes, but then I felt a damp and icy breath- ward – I saw them spread over the whole sky. The pale sweet face, bending downward as if she had ing all over my face. I resisted no longer; a voice, sea rose in mountains beneath me, or dashed the been lost in some pleasing day-dream. But there in every tone my own voice, spake to me from lips little boat into chasms of black and horrible depth. needed not the deep dark blue of her eyes, the that seemed also mine. I cannot remember the The lightning rushed in streams of pale and forked wavy hair, many shades darker than that which is multitude of words which were poured out in cease- fire from above; the thunder crackled, and roared called light brown; there needed not the pale roseless confusion into my ears, till iny every sense was in peals, which I thought would split the world colour of her parted lips, to tell me that I beheld do maddened—nay, till at last I lay wholly stunned around me: but the death I longed for was not statue. I saw those eyes turned with the full gaze and senseless. "Sometimes the voice was loud with nigh. The storm cleared away, and the liule bark of their soft lustre on me--I saw the rich, eloquent rage---sometimes the phantom placed its hand upon floated calmly upon the quiet waters. I began to blood flushing her cheek and lip as she spoke to my shoulders,

and bent its face so close to mine. think that the phantom had quitted me, but all sud- me.--I heard the voice which gave new sweetness that I could feel it draw up the breath from my denly I beheld a hand clasped about the side of the to the musical accents of my own sweetest language. lungs, and stop their motion; and then it whispered boat, and then the phantom climbed up leisurely The Lady Gertrude was not displeased with the atits low deep curses, till my heart felt blistered by into it, and sat down beside me. For days we tentions which, from the first moment of our meetthem:-sometimes the mouth would open widely, drifted about upon the waveless sea, with a <ky of ing, I never ceased to pay to her. and a loud and insulting laugh came pealing and dark and cloudless blue above us; the phantom all Not many months had passed away, when I be. rattling down the throat, till I raved with fury– the time sitting in silence beside me, with his eyes held the gentle lady sitting again under that marble then again the countenance would become calm, fixed on me-never turned from me. At last his portico which looked over the Bay of Naples; and and beam all over with sailes, and sweet gentie presence was so insupportable that I sprang over- I heard her whisper to me, that I was the dearest tones would scarce part the lips ; but every word board. I was not drowned—I know not how it was, object of her affections on earth. I kissed her pure that was spoken would be to describe some shame- but the boat came again between me and the waters; lips, for she was my wife, in answer to her expressless event of my infamous life ; and then, if my rage and the phantom, clasping the side, climbed in, and ions of the tenderest affection that woman ever burst out, the face would smile, the voice whisper sat down by me. He broke silence then, and said, felt.—And was it possible, you will say, that I even more calmly-calmly-calmly-ay, till the Despair, but not death!'

. As he spoke, I felt the could be happy? I was not happy; but since my smile became a sneer, a cold, bitter, heartless sneer. whole face of the sea sinking under me, and with return to Italy, 1 bad seldom seen the phantom. He

When I awoke again, I almost expected to see the sinking of the smooth shining waters, the boat had not left me, but I had almost begun to believe the face that seemed mine, but was not my own, sank also : lower and lower, deeper and deeper it that I had been the victim of some mental delirium, bent over me. It was not there, but night had sank, till, at a great distance, a ridge of black rocks and that the being I so dreaded had no actual exiscome on, and the pale silvery moonshine streamed was gradually revealed, enclosing the waters on all tence. He had only absented himself, to bring into my chamber. Some kind band had opened the sides. The boat itself sank not an inch in the sea, more poignant agony on his return. One evening lattice, and placed on its sill a vase full of orange but the waters continued slowly sinking till the my wife had retired to rest at an early hour, owing flowers: the fresh cool air bathed all my heated dark rocks had risen like the Alps around us; nay, to the still delicate state of her health. I sat down face, and brought with it the pure fragrance of the even till I could look up, as from the bottom of a near the open lattice of her chamber, and having flowers. All was silent around me, till, with a narrow well, and see the stars glittering as at mid- seen her sink into a gentle sleep, I took up a volgradual swell

, a sweet and solemn music rose from night. The phantom laughed at the consternation ume of Ariosto, and ì began to read. I had read the organ of the chapel, and the clear liquid voices I betrayed. Hell is deeper!' he shouted loudly; but for a few minutes, when a voice spoke to me of the nuns blended into a rich stream of harmony. and his laugh and his words were echoed over and loudly. I looked up, and beheld the form that was I felt too calm, too happy, and with restless fear over again from the black and stupendous rocks mine, and yet not my own, stancling erect before rose up-I looked round the chamber—the face was which enclosed us. I knew nothing more, till I me with an attitude and look of insolent defiance : nowhere to be seen. I laid down my head, and a found myself lying amid the shattered planks of the Come with me, I need your presence,' he exshower of tears gushed from my eyes. My senses boat upon the shore of a foreign land. I started up, claimed, still more loudl: ; and I looked up to him were soothed, but my soul was not The voice that for a person was lying close beside me. I was for with my finger on my lips, pointing at the same was mine, and yet not my own, spake as a friend the moment all bewildered, but the person lying at time with the other hand to ihe bed on which my speaks who is fearful to disturb one: 'I am here,' my feet stretched his limbs, as one awaking from a wife lay sleeping. *Oh! do not fear,' replied the it said ; 'you shall not miss me long.'

heavy slumber, and yawning, as he slowly thrust phantom, in a voice even louder than before, 'I I left the convent when I was strong enough to away the thick long hair, which had fallen over his hall not disturb her-you know that I do not indepart: yet my illoess had greatly changed me. eyes, he looked full in my face and said. “I cannot rude on any other but yourself. We are one,' My former health seemed gone, I was an altered sleep :'-l recognized at once the voice, the face, he adde , as, unable to resist his commands, I fol. man, and some said that I was mad I was not which were mine, yet not my own.

lowed him from the room. He led me on in silence, mad—but the sins of my former life had taken Again I returned to society, but not to the profli- and we bad scarcely passed through the wood of fast hold on me. The phantom was with me at all gate companions with whom I had before associated. myrtles behind my palace, when I found myself on hours, though invisible to every eye but mine : 1 | I was still Jiule changed at neart, but I threw the veil the road from Berlin to the village of Pankow.* was never at rest, for during his absence my exis- of decorum over my public conduct. I furnished | The phantom was at my side, but, horror-struck at tepce soon became one agonizing dread of his ap- my long-deserted palace at Naples with simple perceiving whither he was leading me, I stopped pearance. He would bring before me, with minute magnificence I hung the walls with the finest pic and stood still, resolutely determined not to proceed exactness, every scene of my past life, which I tures I could purchase ; I adorned the colonnades a step farther. To my astonishment, the phantom would have given worlds to have forgotten forever. with statues of immense price. I bought a valuable did not notice me, and his figure was soon lost

He was always, as I had been, the infamous hero library, and devoted much of my time to reading. ' among the trees beside the road. My determina.
of the scene, acting every look again with a truth soon gathered around me every intellectual luxury tion was soon changed, when I heard loud and re-
that barrowed up my soul. If he did but beckon which my immense fortune could command. My peated shrieks; they proceeded from the direction
with his finger, I could not refuse to obey him. Ipalace was the theme of universal admiration; my | in which the phantom had disappeared; they were
rushed into every sort of dissipation, but he accom- past excesses began to be forgotten in the contem- so piercing ihat they thrilled me through and
panied me; and in the gayest circles of the court. plation of my present manner of life. My family,
even when the daughters of my sovereign were every one knew, was one of the noblest in Italy. Pankow is about ten miles from Berlin, and is
conversing with me, I have seeu the two hands on My person (for I had entirely recovered my health) much frequented by company.

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through. I passed swiftly onward among the Ah! I can never forget my holy and humble for me: they have a better eloquence with God than trees, and soon entered a litile verdant plain, partly Gertrude. I had long ceased to pray for myself, the best words. Oh! my Heavenly Father,' -as overshadowed by lofty trees. The moonshine then but when I heheld my young and limit wise alone she spake she raised her soft eyes towards beaven, made the spot almost as light as it was during the in a strange land with a husband who was too vile "What a happy wife I am! I rose up, humbled in my day. A considerable part of this little plain was to be allowed even a corner of this fallen worki; soul, bumbled to the dust, feeling the deep bitterness fully revealed, and I saw that the herbage beneath when I beheld her perfect and confiding faith in of my own heart, my face all crimsoned with shame. my feet had been crushed down, apparently by the me, I shuddered at her danger-) prayed for her, I felt then ashamed of even the height of my figure. weight of some burden which had been dragged though I did not then dare to pray for myself. 1 I felt that my head was too near the throne of Him with difficulty over it. Years seemed to fly back, have lain prostrate on the ground in prayer for her, whom I had insulted and despised. I beard someand to restore a time which it tortured my soul to heart-broken and speechless, for I seliom presumed thing move behind me in the dead silence-I looked remember. I stopped again, and would have turned to address with words the Being whom I had for round-The fresh evening breeze bad merely overback, when the shrieks, which had ceased for a lit-saken. I could not weep for myself, but for her set a crystal vase too full of flowers. Again I tle while, burst out again close to me; and amid ny eyes would become rivers of tears Her calm started, for I thought I could distinguish the phanthem I could distinguish the soundt of my own name. unsuspecting affection, the mild humility, the simple tom approaching from the farther end of the chamI turned-ah! how can I describe the scene! A truth of her character, the heart that was so evident ber-i gazed steadily-I bad merely seen my own tall man stood before me -- he looked round on me in all her conduct, endeared her to me--I had never shadow on the wall. with a horrid glance, as if furious at the interrup- met with such a person before--yet from the mo- My wife slept for some hours very calmly; but tion of my presence-I saw my own face-I saw ment that I called her mine, one thought had been before she awoke, I observed her whole countemy own arm raised, a hunting-knife was clasped in present with me--that I should lose ber. Gradu- nance change, and at last she started from her sleep, the hand, reeking and dripping with blood-a young ally, every power within me had been drawn over and cried out with the pangs which has already girl was struggling at the knees of the phantom, to this thought, and hung riveted upon it. The overtaken ber. I called hastily to some of her atclinging to him with frantic gestures, and gasping nourishment of every hope I cherislied was drawn tendants who were in the antechamber; and reand shrieking by turns, as she strove to restrain or from the presence of iny wife with me For a time signing my place to her nurse, I stole softly from her to avoid the forceful gashes of the gory knife.--11 almost forgot the phantom. Had he appeared, I room. Hour after hour passed away, and I was at sprang forward-1 Aung myself upon the murder- sometimes thought I should have scarcely needed times obliged almost to rush from the antechamber, ing fiend—with all the strength of my powerful him. The dreaded time drew nigh: my wife was to conceal from my wife the bursts of passionate limbs I tore him from bis victim-I wrenched the about to become a mother. I seldom quilted her grief which overwhelmed ine. At last I heard knife from his hand—but I--I myself was in his side, and if I saw ber cheek change colour, if I them more about quickly in the chamber: I displace--Christina was really struggling with me.-1 perceived a slight expression of pain on her lip, 1 tinguished low and shivering groans ; once I heard felt the knife in my own hand, I felt her soft bands was wretched. How often would she take my the voice of my wife : Oh, do not think of me,' she striving with me; and her wild frantic shrieks were fevered hands in her own, and look up in my face cried faintly, save my child !" "Think only of your only less appalling than the laugh of the fienil, with ber calon sweet siniles, and tell me not to fear lady:-of saving my wife!' I called out with a low which I heard behind me. All this lasted but a for her! Her look, ber words, were but another but firm voice. Ai that moment a piercing shriek few moments-I had fed away--But ere I had left pang for me. I could only see in her a victim, a thrilled through my whole frame: I heard onlythe plain, the shrieks had stopped me again-What fair innocent lamb about to be sacrificed. On the She is safe,' and 'rushed wild with joy from the could I do but turn back? The same bloody slaugh- evening before the birth of my child, I was, as room. I soon returned again, I stole on tiptoe into ter met my sight: I rushed forward again, and again usual, in the apartment of my wife. She had never my wife's chamber, she seemed asleep, her face was found myself in the place of the fiend, with Christina appeared to me so cheerful, so healthful, so entirely turned towards me. The nurse looked at me, and dying beneath my hands. I tried to escape again, but a creature of hope. I could not help frequently raised her hands, as if to say, Tere is now po hope.' I stroie in vain. I was forced, by some irresistible gazing on her, and saying to myself, It is impos- 1 gazed again on the pallid and exhausted sleeper; power, to stand close to the murderer, who once sible that she can be suddenly taken from me." once or twice she attempted to open her eyes, but turned round, looked full on me, and said very will need months to break up, to disunite all that she was too feeble. I whispered who was near her, calmly, •We are one.. I was forced to see myself intermingled life of mind and body.' — My Gertrude and something like a smile faintly flickered over commit over again the horrid murder which I had seemed on that evening to open all her heart to me her features, and disturbed their fixed repose. I in fact perpetrated seven years before, at that very With modest and confiding tenderness, she spoke whispered to her again. I laid my face close to spot, on a wretched girl, whose fidelity to my illicit of her plans for her child. She told me how she the pillow. On my knees I remained I know not passion I had suspected. I would not willingly longed to go with her husband and his child, to how long, watching for a stirring of life upon ber dwell on such disgustingly dreadful details, but 1 her own green, happy England. She spoke of the face. Sometimes I thought I could perceive a light will conceal nothing from you.--All that in the days of her childhood. All her conversation seemed breathing between her lips, a twinkling in the lustre blind, mad fury of my rage, I had before scarcely to breathe of hope, till suddenly observing my grave of her half-closed eyes. At last I touched her lips perceived, all that I remembered not till I beheld it countenance, she stopped, and the tears rose into with mine, they were cold and stiff. My child bad repeated, every look, every gesture of my fury did her eyes. She wept very quietly for a few minutes. lived only a few minutes. I behold acted over again by that form which was and then said in a softer and sweeter voice, without Many days had passed over me before I awoke indeed mine--but I saw it all in cool blood--I stood raising up her meek head, 'Do not think, dearest, from this last affliction; awoke in soul, I should say, almost as a calm spectator beside Christina and her that I have forgotten the blight which may fall upon for to all appearance I suffered little. I gave orders murderer. I saw her white rounded shoulders all my earthly popes. I do not think a day has passed for the funeral of my wife and child with a calmgashed with wounds, I saw one of her small hands since I Srst looked forward to the time which is ness that astonished those about me; I followed split

, literally split up from the fingers to the slender now so near, no, not a single day in which I have their lifeless bodies to the grave; I gave directions wrisi, as she struggled to keep back the knife-I not prayed fervently to be prepared for a sudden to an artist of great celebrity for their monument. saw her flashing eyes shrink and close beneath the call to another world. I think my prayers have I sketched the figures which I determined should smoking blade; and the dark gore bubble out over been heard, for I only prayed that God's will might be placed over the tomb; my wife in almost the her bosom; and her long haircling dabbled together be done with me, and I prayed in His name by same simple attitude as when I first beheld her sitin the pool of blood. I saw--No,no–I can write "hom alone we can come into the presence of Our ting in the portico of my palace, except that her no more of it-And all the while the eye of Him Father. Nay, my own husband, you must not be little infant was lying in her arms. I paid an imwho died upon the cross to save my soul, was fixed thus agitated! Indeed. I am never less inelancholy medse price t. the artist on the condition that the upon me--O! as I write I can scarcely believe that than when I speak of my religion, my hope, my inonument should be erected in a few weeks. I I have been what I was ! O my friend, if your feel. peace I should call it. All my cheerfulness flows saw the tomb finished, and placed above the bodies ings are now frozen with horror, if my own soul is from that one purest source. -I am rather wearied just as I had directed, with the few words, • Thy now stupified within me at the recollection of my now,' she added, “and would sleep a little while in will be done,' graven deeply into the cold bard infernal guilt, what must that forgiving Saviour your arms; but first,' she said solemny, 'dear marble, and I was satisfied. 'I then determined to have felt, who is of purer eyes than to behold Lorenzo, do kneel down beside me, as I cannot now leave Italy. I gave a general order that my palace iniquity! O branded and miserable Cain, my tel. kneel myself

, and offer up a short prayer for me. ! in Naples and all my other property should be sold. lowship is with thce!

shall be calmer and happier, as I hear your voice,' I had locked up the chamber of my wife as soon as When my wise opened her eyes, she beheld me I could not reply to this entreaty. I was silent, they had removed her beloved corpse; and having still sitting near the open lattice, with the volume and my wife said timidly, 'I fear my request has arranged every thing for my departure, I resolved of Ariosto in my hand; but dark clouds had gath- displeased you, but I thought you would forgive it to spend my last evening in that apartment; I orered over the moon, and my features were not I have never breathed the wish till now.' I felt my dered that every visiter should be refused admitvisible.

heart melt with tenderness and shame, as I silently tance to me, and I then entered that dear chamber: I believe that my gentle wife never discovered pressed my cheek to that of my gentle Gertrude, the very air within it seemed still to breathe of her the cause of my wretchedness. Her health was so and then knelt down close beside hier. Had I been presence,-it seemed yet fragrant with that delicate extremely delicate, that the bare idea of her being alone, I think I could have prayed without difficulty purity which had been as peculiar to her person as acquainted with the state of my heart was anguish for her; but I now was as one deprived of speech, to her mind. The loose dress of white muslin, to me. Had she known that the stem round which I could only cover my face with my hands and which she had last worn, lay as when it had been she had entwined so closely, to which she clung weep like an infant. Nay, my beloved Lorenzo,' carelessly thrown off, on a low sofa. I renuembered with every fibre of her devoted affection; had she exclaimed my sweet wife, and stooping down, she that she had been sitting on that same sofa the known how deadly, how cankered that stem was, kissed my forehead, -— I was wrong io distress you evening before her death: that she had risen from surely she would have withered there at once ! thus. Ríse up: your lears will ascend to heaven ! it as I appeared. I sat down there and wept, for

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the first time since I had lost her. My tears seemed | been opened. No man can now elevate great men found it expedient to vary from to freshen the feelings of my grief; every little bimself by the most elaborate imitations, their predecessors. Indeed we do not reco!circumstance which had beea half-obscured, half. and Mr Campbell unhappily belongs to the lect a single great poet who has not a verforgotten, in the late dull and stupified state of my class of imitators. We do not know but sification peculiarly bis own. Byron, in mind, now came forth in vivid colouring. I continued to weep, and to press the light dress which we may shock the prejudices of some of our his dedication of the “Corsair,” talks about my Gertrude had last worn, to stop my ears. While readers by this assertion, nor do we mean his having attempted the good, old, and now sitting there, I discovered a small volume lying be- to make it without some qualification. His neglected heroic couplet;" but the conpneath one of the cushions of the sofa, and I recol lyric poetry is his own, pure and unming. Iets of the “ Corsair” are no more like the lected that I had often seen it in the hands of my led, and noble; but his

longer works—those couplets of Dryden, or of Pope, or of Goldwife. The book was lying open, as if it had been just laid down. I was struck by the peculiar rich to which his odes are but appendages-all smith, than they are like the couplets of ness of the binding: the sides and back were covo discover mannerism and imitation strongly Chaucer, or than the blank verse of Thomered with green velvet, thickly bossed with pearls marked. This will not do now, and cannot son is like the blank verse of Milton or and rubies, and its clasps, of pale virgin gold, were do hereafter. The master poets of the age Young. It is curious to see that in the also studded with valuable gems. I expected to find have broken down the barriers of preju- lyric poetry of Campbell,--that part of his some rare and richly ornamented manuscript, some painted missal: I was disappointed, for the volume dice; they have moulded anew the public works on which his fame must ultimately was a small plainly printed English Bible. I hastily taste, and stamped it with an original im- rest,--he has invented new measures of turned over the leaves : on the title page my wife press. No revival of an obsolete school of verse. bad written with an unsteady hand these words poetry, no direct imitation of a new one, As to this recent publication, we do not •My last prayer will be that my husband may regard this book as his best treasure—it has been can now win the applause of the pubiic, think it will increase the fame of Campever mine. From the grave, from another world, though it may exact the approval of critics. bell; neither do we think it will shake his I beseech him to search this message of God him- Cainpbell was happy in the time at which well established reputation. It comes too self. O let him not dispute over this sacred volume, “ The Pleasures of Hope” was published; late to effect this;

but had it appeared imbut pray in a childlike and teachable spirit for the a few years later, and it would been prais- mediately after “The Pleasures of Hope,” knowledge of himself

, of the truth, of eternal happi; ed by critics and neglected by readers, if it would have needed something better ness!".For your sake, my blessed love,' I exclaimed fervently, I will read this little volume! It shall indeed his good sense would not then have than “Gertrude of Wyoming,” highly pollie next to my heart, which your image shall never entirely suppressed it. Brown's " Paradise ished as that is, to have placed him on bis leave. At that moment the phantom stood before of Coquettes” and “ Bower of Spring" former level in public estimation. me, and the book dropped from my hand.

were praised in the Edinburgh Review; Theodric is a short tale, and, as it seems All about me seemed to undergo a gradual change, but we may retort on the critics their own to us, carelessly told. It opens with a deand the presence of the plianton is no longer dread words, “ Who reads them?” They slumber scription of Alpine scenery, conveyed from ful to me. He still appeareth often, but not to terrify, not to wither niy heart within me. I have with Hayley's “ Triumphs of Temper.” Wordsworth, and sadly marred in the translearned to bless his appearance, for be now cometh Truly the Scottish critics have been very version. The poet imagines himself standrather as a friendly monitor. In the hour of danger, unhappy in their remarks on poetry, in the ing by the tomb of a Swiss maiden, whose of temptation, of trial, I see his look of agonized subjects which they have selected either story is told him by his companion: that entreaty, 1 hear his solenn voice of warning, de: for praise or blame. They seemed to bave she fell in love with a colonel in the Ausploring my past guilt, and pointing to those mercies which have blotted out the sentence of condemna. put down Wordsworth for a time; they trian army from the enthusiastic description pronounced against all sinners. His form I ridiculed Byron and Coleridge; they be- tions of her brother, who was a cornet in can still recognise, but it seemeth like one that is stowed mingled praise and censure on his troop; and learning that he was about transfigured, and the garments that he wears are Southey ;-look at the result! Those pas. to marry another woman, she died of love ; white and glistening.

Here I canclude. You say that you must return sages of Southey, which they condemned that the colonel having one day scoided a to England. My true friend, I would go thither are admired, and the judges are condemned little, because his wife stayed too long on a also. "I would no longer defer my departure from for those which they absolved. Coleridge visit, she died of grief thereupon just about Naples : for whither thou goest I will go; and is now confessedly • a singularly wild and the same time. What became of the colonel where thou lodgest I will lodge : Thy people shall beautiful” poet, the most original perhaps and cornet afterwards, our author says not. be my people, and thy God my God.

that ever wrote.* The superior excellence Now any man who is conversant with the

of some of Byron's later performances are Lake poets, must know, that a fine superTheodric; a Domestic Tale; and Other thought by good judges to be due to his structure of poetry might have been built Poems. By Thomas Campbell. New having been dosed, with Wordsworth.” on such a plan as this. We ourselves, ad

And, in Wordsworth's own language, who mirers as we are of another school than his, York. 1825. 18mo. pp. 116.

does not observe to what a degree the did believe that Mr Campbell could have MR CAMPBELL’s fortune as a poet has been poetry of the Island has been coloured by worked up this simple tale powerfully; but singular. The fame of other poets fluctu- his works?

he has failed. The style is a strange medated during their whole lives, and their

For one who loves literature well enough ley--some passages are of the versification niches in the Temple were assigned to to trace its history in its minuter points, it is of Mr Campbeli's earlier works, some of them by posterity ; but he seems many interesting to notice the changes in the that of Lord Byron's, and now and then a years ago to have attained a station, from versification of our language since the days dash of Crabbe's; and we could not feel which no subsequent performances have of Queen Elizabeth, from the ruggedness affected by the incidents, however much we removed him; and he is now arrived at an of Donne and Cowley, through the affect- tried. We quote the opening lines. age which renders it improbable that he ed airiness of Waller, the stateliness of will produce any work to alter the judg. Dryden, and the flippancy of Pope, to the And lights were o'er th' Helvetian .nountains flung,

'Twas sunset, and the Ranz des Vaches was sung, ment of the public. He has always been, smooth flow of Goldsmith and his followers ; That gave the glacier tops their richest glow, and from the nature of things always must and then to turn to the rich and varied har. And tinged the lakes like molten gold below. be, a popular poet, but, as it has been de mony that wells forth from the pages of Warmth flushed the wonted regions of the storm, cided, a poet of the second class. There Walter Scott and of Byron, and the poets That high in Heaven's vermilion wheeled and soared.

Where, Phænix-like, you saw the eagle s form, are passages in all his works which appeal of the Lake school. We have not adverted Woods nearer frowned, and cataracts dashed and directly to feelings inherent in human na- to the less marked differences which may roared, ture,-passages which will awaken respon be found in some of the intermediate poets; From heights brouzed by the bounding bouquetin; ses in the breast of every reader.

but we have cited enough to show, that, Herds tinkling roamed the long-drawn vales beHis first work, “ The Pleasures of Hope," even in the trivial point of form, these and hamlets glittered white, and gardens flourished was, according to the notions of the lead.

green. ers of the public taste in its day, a work of

* Why are not Coleridge's Poems republished high promise. But better and more exalt. in this country? We have but few of theln, and

Some of our readers may not have had an ed views of poetical excellence have since I those not the best.

opportunity of seeing the original of these




lines; and to such of them as bave seen it, I love of ordinary mortals, than that which is What though beneath thee man put forth

His pomp, his pride, his skill; we presume no apology is necessary for re- expressed in Byron's. “The Ritter Bann"

And arts that made fire, food, and earth, calling to their recollection such finished has been sufficiently ridiculed, so we will not

The vassals of his will;poetry of so high an order.

join in the chorus. “Reullura" is as tame as Yet mourn not I thy parted sway,

the Ritter. The Song—"Men of England" 'Tis storm, and hid in mist from hour to hour,

Thou dim discrowned king of day: All day the floods a deepening murmur pour; is more in the style of Campbell's best

For all those trophied arts The sky is veiled, and every cheerful sight; efforts than any thing else in the volume,

And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Dark is the region as with coming night;.

Healed not a passion or a pang
and is worthy of a place not far below “The
But what a sudden burst of overpowering light!

Entailed on human hearts.
Battle of the Baltic."
Triumphant on the bosum of the storm.

Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Glances the fire-clad eagle's wheeling form ;


Upon the stage of men, Eastwarıl, in long perspective glittering, shine

Men of England! who inherit

Nor with thy rising beams recall
The wood-crowned cliffs thato'er the lake re. line;
Wide o'er the Al,is a hundred streams unfold,

Rights that cost your sires their blood!

Lise's tragedy again.
Men whose undegenerate spirit

Its piteous pageants bring not back,
At once to pillars turned that flame with gold;

Has been proved on land and food!

Nor waken flesh upon the rack Behind his sail the peasant strives to shun

Of pain anew to writhe ; The west, that burns like one dilated sun,

By the foes ye 've fought uncounted,

Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred, Where in a mighty crucible expire

By the glorious deeds ye 've done,

Or mown in battle by the sword,
The mountains, glowing hot, like coals of fire.
Trophies captured-breaches mounted,

Like grass beneath the scythe.
Wordsworth's Descriptive Sketches.

Navies conquered-kingdoms won!
There is another passage of English

Even I am weary in yon skies
Yet, remember, England gathers

To watch thy fading fire ; poetry which we doubt not owes its origin

Hence but fruitless wreaths of fame,

Test of all sumless agonies, to this. We mean the opening of the third If the patriotisni of your fathers

Behold not me expire. canto of the Corsair; but no trace of imita- Glow not in your hearts the same.

My lips that speak thy dirge of death tion is to be found there. Byron was a mas. What are monuments of bravery,

Their rounded gasp and gurgling breatha ter of his art; he did not borrow another Where no public virtues bloom?

To see thou shalt not boast. man's lamp and pour out the oil; but when What avail in, lands of slavery,

The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, he had caught light from it, the flame which Trophied temples, arch, and tomb ?

The majesty of Darkness shall

Receive my parting ghost ! he kindled was his own, and supplied from Pageants !-Let the world revere us an inexbaustible fountain. We have not For our people's rights and laws,

This spirit shall return to Him found in Theodric any other passage of such

And the breasts of civic heroes

That gave its heavenly spark ;
Bared in Freedom's holy cause.

Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim palpable imitation as that which we have

When thou thyself art dark! quoted; but we think that the whole poem Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,

No! it shall live again, and shine evinces, that it is the work of one who Sydney's matchless shade is yours

In bliss unknown to beams of thine,

Martyrs in heroic story, draws sometimes from one and sometimes

By Hiin recalled to breath,
Worth a hundred Agincourts !

Who captive led captivity,
from another, without relying upon his own
collected and concocted resources. Like We 're the sons of sires that baffled

Who robbed the grave of Victory,all the works of its author, it has passages

Crowned and mitred tyranny:

And took the sting from Death!

They defied the field and scaffold of tranquil beauty. The following descrip

Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
For their birthrights--so will we !

On Nature's awful waste
tion is of this kind :
Perhaps the following ode-if ode it be-

To drink this last and bitter cup
and to know her well
exhibits as much power and originality as

Of grief that man shall taste
Prolonged, exalted, bound, enchantment's spell;

Go, tell that night that hides thy face, For with affections warm, intense, refined, any thing in the volume ; but it is difficult

Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
She mixed such calm and holy strength of mind, to forget, while reading it, some poems of On Earth's sepulchral clod,
That, like Heaven's image in the smiling brook, modern date, which we cannot but think The dark’ning universe defy
Celestial peace was pictured in her look.
that Mr Campbell remembered while writ-

To quench his Immortality,
Hers was the brow, in trials unperplexed,

Or shake his trust in God!
That cheered the sad, and tranquillized the vexed; ing it.
She studied not the meanest to eclipse,

And yet the wisest listened to her lips;

All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, She sang not, knew not Music's magic skill,

A Comparative View of the Systems of PesThe Sun himself must die,

talozzi and Lancaster: in an Address But yet her voice had tones that swayed the will.

Before this mortal shall assume

delivered before the Society of Teachers There are lines in which the author's wish Its immortality! to snatch, like some of his cotemporaries,

I saw a vision in my sleep,

of the City of New York. By Solyman That gave my spirit strength to sweep

Brown, A. M. New York. 1825. 8vo. “a grace beyond the reach of art,” has be:

Adown the gulf of Time! trayed birn into a meanness of expression

I saw the last of human mould, that sorts but oddly with the others around That shall Creation's death behold,

The title of this pamphlet excited our inthem. Such, for instance, as these :

As Adam saw her prime !

terest to a high degree, but we were not a

little disappointed on being obliged to read • His ecstacy, it may be guessed, was much.'

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,

to the seventeenth page before we found • But how our fates from unmomentous things

The earth with age was wan, May rise, like rivers, out of little springs.'

The skeletons of nations were

the subject again alluded to. The precedAround that lonely man!

ing part consists of judicious remarks upon The boy was half beside himself.'

Some had expired in fight, the brands the importance of education, and the value Of the smaller poems contained in this

Still rusted in their bony hands;

of good instructers. The most important volume, none are equal to some which

In plague and famine some!

observations occur on pages 21, 22.

Earth's cities had no sound nor tread, Campbell has heretofore written; several

And ships were drifting with the dead

The difference between these two systems of of them were first published in the New To shores where all was dumb!

Pestalozzi and Lancaster, I have said, is great Monthly Magazine. Some of the contribu

greater, perhaps, than we have been accustomed to tors to that Magazine are, however, better

Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, imagine. In the one, that of Lancaster) where a
With dauntless words and bigh,

multitude of words are read, and perhaps commit: poets than its editor, if we may suppose That shook the sere leaves from the wood ted to memory by the pupil

, a great quantity of the that the pootry there published, and not re- As if a storm passed by,

signs of ideas is acquired; while the ideas them published here, was the work of others. Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun, selves, and the things of which they are the images, The love songs are about as good as love Thy face is cold, thy race is run,

are totally unknown. If words were the natural "T'is Mercy bids thee go;

signs of things, or even the natural signs of ideas, songs commonly are. They are more true

For thou ten thousand thousand years the case would be reversed; but so long as language to nature than Moore's, and the feeling

Hast seen the tide of human tears,

consists of conventional and artificial signs, baving which they express is much more like the That shall no longer flow.

no analogy with thoughts or things, a mere reliance

pp. 24.

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