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The comparison of our distant joys to distant objects, is equally original and striking.

The character and manners of the dealer in this infernal traffic is a well done though a horrid picture. I am not sure how far introducing the sailor was right; for though the sailor's common characteristic is generosity, yet, in this case, he is certainly not only an unconcerned witness, but in some degree an efficient agent in the business: verse 224, is nervous, and the heart convulsive anguish breaks," expressive. The description of the captive wretch, when he arrives in the West Indies, is carried on with equal spirit. The thought, that the oppressor's sorrow on seeing his slave pine, is like the butcher's regret, when his destined lamb dies a natural death, is exceedingly fine.

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I am got so much into the cant of criticism, that I begin to be afraid, lest I have nothing except the cant of it; and instead of elucidating my author, am only benighting myself. For this reason, I will not pretend to go through the whole poem. Some few remaining beautiful lines, however, I cannot pass over. Verse 280 is the strongest description of selfishness I ever saw. The comparison in verses 285 and 286, is new and fine; and the line "your alms to penury you lend," is excellent.

In verse 317, "like" should surely
be "as," or " so;" for instance,
His sway the hardened bosom leads
To cruelty's remorseless deeds;
As (or so) the blue lightning when it springs
With fury on its livid wings,
Darts to the goal with rapid force,
Nor heeds that ruin mark its course.

If you insert the word "like," where I have placed "us," you must alter darts to darting and heeds to heeding,

in order to make it

grammar.

A tem

pest is a favourite subject with the poets, but I do not remember any thing even in Thomson's "Winter," superior to your verses from the 347 to the S51. Indeed that last simile, beginning with "Fancy may dress," &c. and ending with the 350th verse, is, in my opinion, the most beautiful passage in the whole poem; it would do honor to the greatest names that ever graced our profession. I will not beg your pardon, Madam, for these strictures, as my conscience tells me, that, for once in my life, I have acted up to the duties of a Christian in doing as I would be done by.

R. BURNS.

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Spenser.

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229

IN Todd's Life of Spenser," in which there is to be found much valuable information regarding the studies and pursuits of this great man, and the state of English Literature at that period, there is a curious letter of Spenser's friend, Harvey, in which he recommends to the author of the Faery Queen the Think upon Pestudy of Petrarch. trarche, and perhappes it will advaunce the wings of your imagination a degree higher, at least if any thing can be added to the loftiness of his conceite, whom gentle Mistress Rosalind once reported to have all the intelligences at commandment, and another time christened him Signor Pegaso." The gentle Mistress Rosalind here mentioned, was a lady to whom Spenser was early attached.

It shows the poetical conversations with which he and his Mistress must have entertained themselves, alluding, as Todd says, to the " pleasant days that were gone and past;"---for the lady deserted Signor Pegaso, and married his rival. In July 1580, Spenser was, by the interest of the Earl of Leicester and Sir Philip Sydney, appointed secretary to Lord Grey, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. He afterwards received, on his return to England, a grant of a considerable property in the county of Cork, from Queen Elizabeth. His residence, every spot around which is classic ground, is described by Smith in his Natural and Civil History of the county of Cork. The castle was then nearly level with the ground. It must have been a noble situation; a plain almost surrounded by mountains, with a lake in the middle; and the river Mulla, so often mention-ed by Spenser, running through his grounds. In this romantic retreat he was visited by the noble and injured Sir Walter Raleigh, himself an accomplished scholar and poet, under whose encouragement he committed his Faery Queen to the press.

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Anecdote of Heylin. This celebrated man, soon after pubGeography of the World," lishing his accepted an invitation to spend a few weeks with a gentleman who lived on the New Forest, Hampshire; with directions where his servant should meet him to conduct him thither. As soon as he was joined by the gentleman's servant, they struck off into the thick of the Forest, and after riding for a considerable time, Mr. Heylin asked if that was the right road; and to his great

230

Anecdote of Frederic the Great.-Discovery of a Murder. [Oct. 1,

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The Shifts of Ignorance in Places of
Importance.

The conduct of a man in public life, occupied in concealing his ignorance, is an absolute system of tactics. It is curious to remark his studied silence when the conversation turns upon a subject which he is conscious he ought to know well, and of which he is equally conscious that he knows nothing; to see how he slinks away when this conversation approaches too near him, and the looks of the circle around seem to express that they are all expectation to hear his opinion. He goes up in an absent way to the chimney-piece, takes up some papers that lie there, and begins to look them over with profound attention, while, nevertheless, if he hears any thing said on which he may venture with confidence to put in a word, 'tis so, says he, exactly so, not taking his eyes however from the papers till the moment when he can adroitly give another turn to the conversation; and to this resource he has been obliged to recur so often, that it has become entirely familiar to him.

Sometimes he will be a little more adventurous; and if a debate arises in his company upon the period when some event of antiquity happened, or upon the distance between two large towns, and several different opinions on the question are supported with equal pertinacity, one maintaining, for instance, that it was the year 300, before our era, another, that it was the year 200, one that the distance between the towns was 2000 leagues, another that it was 2400, he will fix the period at the year 250, the distance at 2200 leagues: this is a medium he ventures to take without having any notion whatever upon the subject, only he feels confident that he cannot be very wide of the mark. But with such fortunate opportunities to display his knowledge, he is not often fayoured. It is more easy for him to terminate a controversy on any axiom laid down, since he has always some common-place remark, or assertion ready at hand, suited to the occasion. Sonie

times he takes his revenge; and if he
happens to have been reading in the
morning, in the way of his business, any
paper or papers, through which he has
acquired some piece of statistical know-
ledge, he does not rest till he gives the
conversation such a turn, as will enable
him to bring it out. Woe, then, to any
one who thinks he shall pay his court
to him by making many inquiries upon
the subject, or who offers some slight
objection, that he may ask for an ex-
planation;-
-our man of ignorance is
already at the full length of his tether;
he answers only by monosyllables, and
becomes evidently out of humour.

Madame de Stacl.

Anecdote of Frederic the Great.

The

Frederic the Great, being informed of the death of one of his chaplains, a man of considerable learning and piety, determining that his successor should not be behind him in these qualifications, took the following method of ascertaining the merit of one of the numerous candidates for the appointment. He told the applicant that he would himself furnish him with a text, the following Sunday, when he was to preach at the Royal Chapel, from which he was to make an extempore sermon. clergyman accepted the proposition. The whim of such a probationary discourse was spread abroad widely, and at an early hour the Royal Chapel was crowded to excess. The King arrived at the end of the prayers, and on the candidate's ascending the pulpit, one of his Majesty's aides-de-camp presented him with a sealed paper. The preacher opened it, and found nothing written therein; he did not, however, in so critical a moment, lose his presence of mind; but, turning the paper on both sides, he said, "My brethren, here is nothing, and there is nothing; out of nothing God created all things," and proceeded to deliver a most admirable discourse upon the wonders of the creation.

A remarkable discovery of a Murder.

The murderer of Mr. Martin, receiver of taxes at Bilguy, says a letter from Bar-sur-Aube, was discovered a few days ago, in the most singular manner, and arrested. The crime was committed on the 9th of February, on the high road, at one o'clock in the afternoon. The shot entered Mr. Martin's heart, and he fell down dead. He was

1818.]

Anecdote of Professor John.-Fouche.-Doctor Garth. 231

returning from collecting, and had only 130 franks about him, of which he was robbed, as well as of his watch, and ring. The charge of the gun was rammed down with a written paper. This had been carefully taken up, and carried away with the body. The writing was still legible. On this piece of paper there were expressions which are used in glass manufactories, and a date of near fifteen years back. Upon this single indication, the Judge went to the owner of the glass manufactory at Bilguy, examined his books, and succeeded in find ing an article relative to the delivery of some glass, of which the paper in question was the bill of parcels. The suspicion immediately fell on the son-in-law of this individual the latter had been out of the country for ten years. Order was given to arrest the person suspected. When the officers came to him, he was on his knees, praying. In his fright, he confessed the deed on the spot, and even shewed where the watch and ring were, which were indeed found under the thatch of his house.

Anecdote.

The following anecdote of Professor John, in Berlin, whose system for making youth perfect in gymnastic exercises, has given rise to endless disputes in Germany, is highly characteristic. When the French were in Berlin, John went with his scholars to exercise on the heath out of the city. On his return he took it into his head, to ask a boy who loitered under the Brandenburg Gate, "What used to stand at this gate?" "The Victory!" "What is become of her?" "The French have carried her to France!" "What do you think of it?" "Nothing at all!" Upon this, John gave him a hearty box on the ear, with the serious admonition, "She was there, and may be fetched back again, if every one help!" The school never forgot it, though the citizens of Berlin, thought the Professor mad, because he required that a boy should think something at seeing the gate without the Victory, while thousands passed through it every day without thinking any thing.

Anecdote of Fouche.

The well known poet Raynouard once read his tragedy of Charles I. to a large company, in which Fouche was present.

All eyes were fixed on him, yet his features remained unchanged. The reading began; still he remained unmoved, though at many allusions the scrutinizing eyes of the hearers were turned upon him. When at last the minister of Charles I. defending his master, exclaims, "Le jugement d'un Roi n'est qu'un assassinat," the company were going to express their approbation aloud, but they were prevented by the presence of the minister This did not escape him, and seemed to embarrass him for a moment. When the reading was finished, every one went away, except Fouche. After some general remarks upon the plan, and the characters of the piece, he added, "in respect to that verse, I utterly despise it."

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Raynouard did not answer, but Fouche walked up and down with long strides, and said, "the political part of your tragedy is very weak; you stand upon the tower of Notre Dame, instead of penetrating into the interior. politics every thing has a different point of view. Circumstances-you do not know the effect of circumstances."

In

Raynouard interrupted him by repeating the verse; "le jugement d'un roi n'est qu'un assassinat," and Fouche left the room.

Anecdote of Doctor Garth.

Doctor Garth, who was a great fre. quenter of the Wit's Coffee-house (the Cocoa Tree, in St. James's-street,) was sittingthe re one morning conversing with two persons of rank, when Rowe, the poet, (who was seldom very attentive to his dress and appearance, but still insufferably vain of being noticed by persons of consequence,) entered, and placing himself in a box nearly opposite to that in which the Doctor sat, looked constantly round, with a view of catching his eye; but not succeeding, he desired the waiter to ask him for his snuff-box, which he knew to be a valuable one, set with diamonds, and the present of some foreign prince; this he returned, and asked for so repeatedly, that Garth, who knew him well, perceived the drift, and accordingly took from his pocket a pencil, and wrote on the lid the two Greek characters P (phi_rho,) which so mortified the poet that he quitted the room.-Literary Gazette.

{ 232 ]

ORIGINAL AND SELECT POETRY.

STANZAS.

BY LORD BYRON.

There was a time I need not name,
Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same,
As still my soul hath been to thee:
And from that hour when first thy tongue
Confess'd a love which equall'd mine,
Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,
Unknown, and thus unfelt by thine;
None, none hath sunk so deep as this,

To think how soon that love hath flown; Transient as every faithless kiss,

But transient in thy breast alone. And yet my heart some solace knew, When late I heard thy lips declareIn accents once imagined true,

Remembrance of the days that were. Yes, my adored!-yet most unkind!

Though thou wilt never love again, To me 'tis doubly sweet to find

Remembrance of that love remain. Yes! 'tis a glorious thought to me, Nor longer shall my soul repine; Whate'er thou art, or e'er shalt be,

Thou hast been dearly, solely mine!

On hearing the notes of a Flute re-echoed by the strings of a Harp.

When from the flute's melodious voice

Distils the liquid note,
Amid the harp-strings as it strays,—
Running a wild voluptuous maze—

Doubting it seems to float;
And when at last some kindred key
Calls forth its powers of sympathy,
It seems with trembling pleasure to rejoice.

So when we launch forth on life's sea
Of woe and malison,

Long time in vain we rove to find
The associate and congenial mind

That strikes in unison;

And when, at last, the friend we meet Whose bosom owns the self-same beat, With joy we hail the port where we would be.

MOTTOS FOR A SUPPER.

BY THE LATE M. G. LEWIS, ESQ.

1.

E.

This is not proper! Take another,
Or else I vow I'll tell your mother.
That man looking at you, not that one, his
brother-

He's blind of one eye and squints with the other.

2.

How ill Miss Gig was drest last night! Each hair was plastered bolt upright; Her cap at least a week she'd wore, And pinned her gown the back before.

3.

[Oct. 1,

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1818.]

Original and Select Poetry.

[The following verses, which are now printed for the first time, were written a few years ago by the late DR. FERRIAR, of Manchester, and addressed to C. White, esq. F.R.S. on his supposing a pair of antique stirrups, in his possession, to have belonged to Charles the First.]

O White! for gold still fondly yearning,
Who turn'st, with thy accustomed learning,
To gold these stirrups brazen;
To thee, great marvels I reveal,
And fired with sympathetic zeal,

Their high descent emblazon.

Unhappy Charles, who lost his power
By councils weak, in evil hour,

Ne'er prest their ample basis;
Mambrino was their rightful lord,
Whom high heroic tales record
As old as Albucasis.

His gorgeous helm 'ere won in fight,
By famed La Mancha's wand'ring knight,

THE PARTING.

(From the German of Breuner.)
The wind was wild, the sea was dark,
The lightning flash'd above;-the bark
That anchored in the rocky bay,
Bath'd its top pennon in the spray;
Hollow and gloomy as the grave
Roll'd to the shore the mighty wave,
Then gathering wild, with thundering sweep,
Flash'd its white foam-sheet up the steep:-
The sight was terror-but behind
Shouts of pursuit were on the wind;
Trumpet, and yell, and clash of shield,
Told where the human hunters wheel'd,
Through the last valley's forest glen.
Where, Bertha, was thy courage then?
She cheer'd her warrior, tho' his side
Still with the gushing blood was dyed,
Up the rude mountain-path her hand
Sustained his arm, and dragged his brand,
Nor shrank, nor sighed; and when his
tread

Paused on the promontory's head,
She smiled, altho' her lip was pale
As the torn silver of his mail.

All there was still-the shouts had past,
Sunk in the rushings of the blast;
Below, the vapour's dark grey screen,
Shut out from view the long ravine;
Then swept the circle of the hill,
Like billows round an ocean isle.
The ray the parting sunbeam flung,
In white, cold radiance on them hung;
They stood upon that lonely brow,
Like spirits loosed from human woe;
And pausing, ere they spread the plume,
Above that waste of storm and gloom.
To linger there was death, but there
Was that which masters death, Despair-
And even Despair's high master, Love.
Her heart was, like her form, above
The storms, the stormier thoughts that
Earth

NEW MONTHLY MAG,-No. 57.

233

A surgeon barber wore,
And doubtless, too, these stirrups prized,、
By fell magician's skill disguised,
The recreant artist bore.

To vulgar eyes, the golden gleam
Shew'd but a poor brass bason's beam!
The gen'rous steed, an ass!

On thine and Quixote's noble soul
Sublimed from common thought's controul
The juggle could not pass.

O haste, pursue the fav'ring fates!
Perhaps that precious helm awaits
Thee in some barber's shed!
Be every shaver's shelves reviewed,
'Till thy discovering genius shrewd,
Shall fix it on thy head!

Or in thy great Museum shewn
With negro skulls and Mammoth's bone,
Be hung th' authentic beaver!
That thy collection may outshine
Whate'er the world has deemed most fine,
Of Hunter, Sloane, or Lever.

Makes the dread privilege of birth.
Passion's wild flame was past, but he
Who pined before her burning eye,
The numbered beatings of whose heart
Told, on that summit they must part-
He was life, soul, and world to her:
Beside him, what had she to fear?
Life had for her nor calm nor storm
While she stood gazing on that form,
And clasped his hand, tho' lost and lone,-
His dying hand, but all her own;
She knelt beside him, on her knee
She raised his wan cheek silently:
She spoke not, sighed not; to his breast,
Her own, scarce living now, was prest,
And felt, if where the senses reel,
O'er wrought-o'er flooded-we can feel-
The thoughts, that when they cease to be,
Leave life one vacant misery.--
She kissed his chilling lip, and bore
The look, that told her all was o'er.
The echoes of pursuit again

Rolled on-she gazed upon the main;
Then seem'd the mountain's haughty steep
Too humble for her desperate leap;
Then seem'd the broad and bursting wave
Too calm, too shallow, for her grave.
She turned her to the dead :-his brow
Once more she gave her kiss of woe;
She gave his cheek one bitter tear,
The last she had for passion here-
Then to the steep!-away, away!

To the whirlwind's roar and the dash of the spray. PULCI.

THE HEART OF SORROW.

I knew a heart-its texture such
As seldom on this earth is found,-
A heart, on which the slightest touch
Would make a deep and lasting wound.
Alas! that heart, tho' truly good,
Has blanch'd its wounds in tears of blood;
VOL. X.
2 H

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