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overcame me.

than gold itself; and that, as I had sacrificed my riches to my integrity on other occasions, so now I had given up my shadow for mere wealth; and what ought, what could become of me?

“ I continued still sadly discomposed, when the coach stopped before the old tavern. I was shocked at the thought of again entering that vile garret. I sent for my baggage, took up the miserable bundle with contempt, threw them some pieces of gold, and ordered to be driven to the principal hotel. The house faced the north, so I had nothing to fear from the sun. I dismissed the driver with gold, selected the best front room, and locked myself in as soon as possible.

“ And how do you imagine I employed myself? Oh! my beloved Chamisso, I blush to confess it even to you. I drew forth the luckless purse from my bosom, and impelled by a sort of madness which burned and spread within me like a furious conflagration, I shook out gold, and gold, and gold, and still more gold :-strewed it over the floor, trampled on it, made it tinkle, and feasting my weak senses in the glitter and the sound, I added pile to pile, till [ sunk exhausted on the golden bed. I rolled about and wallowed in delicious delirium. And so the day passed by, and so the evening. My door remained unopened, and night' found me still reposing on the gold, when sleep at length

“ Then I dreamed of you. I fancied I was standing close to the glass door of your little apartment, and saw you sitting at your work-table, between a skeleton and a parcel of dried plants. Haller, Humboldt, and Linné lay open before you;on your sofa were a volume of Goëthe, and The Magic Ring. ** I looked at you for a long time, then at every thing around you, and then at you again; but you moved not-you breathed not-you were dead.

“I awoke: it seemed to be yet early--my watch had stopped ;-I felt as if I had been bastinadoed-yet both hungry and thirsty, for since the previous morning I had eaten nothing. With weariness and disgust I pushed away from me the gold, which but a little time before had satisfied my foolish heart: I now in my perplexity knew not how to dispose of it. But it could not remain there. I tried to put it again into the purse—no; pone of my windows opened upon the sea. I was obliged to content myself by dragging it with immense labour and difficulty to a large cupboard, which stood in a recess, where I packed it up. I left only a few handfuls lying about. When I had finished my labour, I sat down exhausted in an arm-chair, and waited till the people of the house began to stir. I ordered breakfast, and the presence of the landlord, as soon as practicable.

“ With this man I arranged the future management of my household. He recommended to me for my personal servant a certain Bendel, whose honest and intelligent countenance instantly interested me. It was he, who from that mo ment accompanied me through life with sympathizing attachment, and shared with me my gloomy destiny. I passed the whole day in my apartments with servants out of place, shoemakers, tailors, and shop-keepers; I provided myself with all necessaries, and bought large quantities of jewels and precious stones, merely to get rid of some of my piles of gold : but it seemed scarcely possible to diminish the heap.

“ Meanwhile I contemplated my situation with most anxious doubts. I dared not venture one step from my door, and at evening ordered forty wax lights to be kindled in my saloon, before I left the dark chamber. I thought with horror of the dreadful scene with the school-boys, and determined, whatever it might cost, once more to sound public opinion. The moon, at this season, illumined the night. Late at evening I threw a wide cloak around me, pulled down my hat over my eyes, and glided out of the house trembling like a criminal. I walked first along the shadows of the houses to a remote open place; I then abandoned their protection, stepped out into the moonshine, resolved to learn my destiny from the lips of the passers-by.

“But spare me, my friend, the painful repetition of what I was condemned to undergo ! The deepest pity seemed to inspire the fairest sex; but my soul was

* Another Novel of Fouqué's.

i

not less wounded by this than by the contumely of the young, the proud disdain of the old, especially of those stout and; well-fed men, whose dignified shadows seemed to do them honour. A lovely graceful maiden, apparently accompanying her parents, who seemed (not to look beyond their own footsteps, accidentally fixed her sparkling eyes upon me. She obviously started as she remarked my shadowless figure; she hidher beautiful face beneath her veil, hung down her head, and passed silently on.

“ I could bear it no longer. Salt streams burst forth from my eyes, and with a broken heart I hurried tremblingly back into darkness.

The plates by George Cruickshank are almost enough to persuade one that “ Peter Schlemihỉ” is a true narrative. How can we doubt the possibility of selling and delivering a shadow, when we see it, as in the frontispiece, actually laid hold of, and lifted from the ground? Or how can we doubt the validity of the transfer, when we behold, in the other sketches, its former possessor in the midst of umbrageous forests, and by day-light, moon-light, and lamp-light, without even “ the shadow of a shade ?"

DUET BY LADY CAROLINE LAMB,

From Ada Reis.
“ The kiss that's on thy lip impress'd

Is cold as parting kiss should be ;
And he who clasps thee to his breast

Again can never feel for thee:
The chain I gavé-a true love-token-

Thou see'st in every link is broken.
Then, since 'tis so, 'twere best to part;

I here renounce the oaths I swore';
Correct thy faults, amend thy heart,

And let us meet no more.

THE ANSWER.

I

go: but ere I go from thee,

Give back what thou hast ta'en from me
A heart that knew nor care nor guile,

А parent's fond approving smile,
The hopes which dar'd aspire to heav'n

Give these, and thou shalt be forgiv'n.
Take back the ring, take back the chain ;

Thy gifts, thy oaths, I will resign :-
Take back thy heart, since pledged in vain,

But, oh! restore what once was mine!
Hope not for this, thy course is run;

All that is left thee is to die.
The dew drops with the setting sun,

And see the winds pass scornful by:
So when thou’rt left by me, thou'lt find

The world as scornful as the wind.
A stamp is set upon thy name,

A blight clouds o'er thy early fame.
There's nothing now thy fate can save :

Live scorn'd or hide thee in the grave !

RUBENS. When some alchymist, who pretended that he had discovered the philosopher's stone, offered to disclose his secret to Rubens ; artist laughingly told him he needed it not, for that his pencil had long acquired the power of converting every thing it touched into gold.

that great

LAURA.

When Petrarch first beheld Laura, she was dressed in green. and her gown was embroidered with violets. Her face, her air, her gait, were something more than mortal. Her person was delicate, her eyes tender and sparkling, and her eye-brows black as ebony. Golden locks waved over her shoulders whiter than snow: and the ringlets were interwoven by the fingers of Love. Her neck was well formed, and her complexion animated by the tints of nature, which art vainly attempts to imitate. When she opened her mouth you perceived the beauty of pearls and the sweetness of roses. She was full of graces; nothing was so soft as her looks, so modest as her carriage, so touching as the sound of her voice. An air of gaiety and tenderness breathed around her, but so pure and happily tempered, as to inspire every beholder with the sentiments of virtue: for she was chaste as the spangled dew-drop of the morn.

Vie de Petrarch.

DAPHNE.

DAPHNE was the daughter of the river Peneus; the gods changed her into a laurel, to shelter her from the pursuit of Apollo, who ran after her along the banks of this river. “ Since you cannot be my wife," said he, “ you shall be my laurel." From that time the laurel tree was consecrated to that god. And from the laurel being thus consecrated to the god of poetry, they afterward crowned the poets with it.

THE MUSES.

THESE renowned sisters are said at first to have been in number the same as the Graces, consisting of Mnemosyne-Memory; Melete--Meditation; and Æide-Song. Their augmentation to the number of nine has been thus accounted for—" The inhabitants of their ancient towns, being desirous of placing their statues in the temple of Apollo, ordered three of the most skilful sculptors to execute the three each, making together the number nine, from which it was proposed to select the three most perfect; but the nine were so beautiful it was agreed to take them all. They were accordingly set up in the temple, and called the nine Muses, the six other attributes of poetry being given to the additional sisters; the names of the original three were subsequently changed."

THE ROSE.

One day I pull'd a rose so fair,

Which Julia in her bosom plac'd.
I said, sweet rose, till planted there,

Thy beauty never was outgrac'd.
Her bosom warm'd ; its heaving throes

So modestly did she conceal;
That to have been the rivall’d rose,

I would have given half my weal.

The rose's envy could not brook

The rival beauty of the maid:
Its wonted sprightliness forsook ;

Its boasted beauty 'gan to fade.
So, Julia, may thy beauty bloom ;

For ere thy charms can rivall’d be,
Fate will have seal'd the general doom,

And dropt into eternity.

T.

DIRGE, SUNG BY ORPHEUS AND CHORUS OF THRACIAN VIRGINS OVER THE TOMB

OF LINUS.
“ To these a youth awakes the warbling strings,
“ Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings."

Pope's Trans. of the Iliad.
WAIL, wail, ye virgin throng!

The Sire of song*
On earth's dark breast for ever silent lies :

No more his cheerful pipe,

Its numbers rich and ripe,
Shall

pour at evening to the listening skies.
No more shall nymph or fawn

O'er dewy lawn,
Listening, on tip-toe through the moonlight come;

Nor shall the shepherd haste

His evening short repast,
Leaving for thy sweet strain the joys of hoine.
No more shall sylvan maid

Her ringlets braid,
Like morning's golden clouds to meet thine eye;

Or with enamoured cheek

Her growing passion speak,
Or downcast modest look, or chastened sigh.
Nor shall the summer eve

Fantastic weave
Her pall of vapour and slow-fading light,

To tempt thy steps abroad,

Alone, enrapt, o'erawed,
Watching unfold the starry robe of night.
The slow, far-dying roar

Of Ocean hoar,
Tumbling his billows round some distant isle,

Is henceforth dumb to thee,

Dear shade! though wont to be
Parent of sweet response, or radiant smile.
And even the Gods will want

Thy mystic chant,
Wont still at morn or dusky eve to swell

Along the answering shore,

Or o'er the ocean floor,
Or through the forest wild or lonely dell.
How can the lofty soul

The dull controul,
The mystic leaden sleep of Pluto brook?

Cannot it wear away

Its clogging chains of clay,
And yet enjoy earth's ever cheerful look ?

60

Linus was the inventor of Poetry, and the first who introduced the Phænician letters into Greece. Some say he was a native of Eubea.”:

Alas, alas! we moum

That no return,
When o'er the Stygian bank the spirit goes,

The Gods severe allow;

But all our bitter woe,
Like streams in deserts lost, unheeded flows.
Yet to this sylvan grave,

And crystal wave,
That murmurs music through the mournful grass,

These laurels ever green

Shall tempt as oft as seen,
The feet of heedful travellers as they pass.
And oh! if wakening fame

A right may claim
To cheer a shade on Pluto's gloomy shore,

Thee, thee, the choral lay

Of bards and virgins gay
Shall chant, O Linus ! now and evermore.
For thou hast ope'd a spring

Which, murmuring,
Deepening, and widening, shall, to latest days,

Where'er the passions be,

Float wild, and sweet, and free,
And, in its cadenc'd flow, re-echo with thy praise.
Farewell, loved bard! farewell:

I may not tell
How thou dost govern still thy Orpheus' breast;

But every solemn year

The Gods permit me here,
My songs shall soothe thee in thy golden rest.

EPIGRAM.
Poor Jacob halts and limps along
As if his shoes were full of peas,
Like His in Peter Pindar's song*
Who boiled them not, to purchase ease ;
But Jacob bears no pilgrim's cares,
Or“ Pilgrim's Progress"-he would shun one,
Although his pace, so void of grace,
May be imputed to a Bunion.

• The Pilgrims and the Peas.

PLAN AND ARRANGEMENT OF THE · MAGNET." ORIGINAL Papers form the first and principal portion of each number. They comprise Essays, Fictions, Sketches of Character, Delineations of Manners, notices of the Belles Lettres, at once light, and interesting.

The second part of each sheet contains Reviews, with copious Extracts, of the most attractive new publications.

The remaining pages are reserved for Miscellaneous Matters, including Poetry, a choice selection of Jeux d'Esprit, &c.

Contributors of acknowledged talent are engaged to each department; amongst whom are several Scholars in the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge : and they have the assistance and co-operation of writers, distinguished by their eminence in the literary world. A correspondence is established with several literary characters in France and Italy, whose communications will materially tend to enrich its pages.

Each number will, in general, form a complete publication by itself, and yet will be part of a consecutive and uniform series, which, when bound up together, with the plates, will constitute an interesting collection for future reference, and a beautiful addition to the library of the scholar and the gentleman.

The ILLUSTRATIONS will be executed by the best Artists on steel and copper, and are inserted in every fourth number and part.

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