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Sapphire and chrysophrase, and jacinth stood
With the still action of a star, all light,

Like seabased icebergs, blinding. These, with tools
Tempered in heaven, the band angelic wrought,
And raised, and fitted, having first laid down
The deep foundations of the holy dome
On bright and beaten gold; and all the while
A song of glory hovered round the work
Like rainbow round a fountain. Day and night
Went on the hallowed labor till 't was done.
And yet but thrice the sun set, and but thrice
The moon arose; so quick is work divine.
Tower, and roof, and pinnacle without,
Were solid diamond. Within, the dome
Was eyeblue sapphire, sown with gold-bright stars
And clustering constellations; the wide floor,
All emerald, earthlike, veined with gold and silver,
Marble and mineral of every hue

And marvellous quality; the meanest thing,
Where all things were magnificent, was gold-
The plainest. The high altar there was shaped
Out of one ruby, heart-like. Columned round
With alabaster pure was all. And now

So high and bright it shone in the mid-day light,
It could be seen from heaven. Upon their thrones
The sun-eyed angels hailed it, and there rose
A hurricane of blissfulness in heaven,
Which echoed for a thousand years. One dark,
One solitary and foreseeing thought,
Passed, like a planet's transit o'er the sun,
Across the brow of God; but soon he smiled
Towards earth, and that smile did consecrate
The temple to himself. And they who built
Bowed themselves down and worshipped in its walls.
High on the front were writ these words-To God!
The heavenly built this for the earthly ones,
That in His worship both might mix on earth,
As afterward they hope to do in heaven.
Had man stood good in Eden, this had been;
He fell, and Eden vanished. The bright place,
Reared by the angels, of all precious things,
For the joint worship of the sons of earth
And heaven, fell with him, on the very day
He should have met God and his angels there-

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Had hallowed; the all-hued and odorous bowers
Where angels wandered, wishing them in heaven;
The trees of life and knowledge-trees of death
And madness, as they proved to man-all fell;
And that bright fane fell first. No death-doomed eye
Gazed on its glory. Earthquakes gulped it down,
The Temple of the Angels, vast enough
To hold all nations worshipping at once
Lay in its grave; the cherubs' flaming swords
The sole, sad torches of its funeral.

Till at the flood, when the world's giant heart
Burst like a shell, it scattered east and west,
And far and wide, among less noble ruins,
The fragments of that angel-builded fane,
Which was in Eden, and of which all stones,
That now are precious, were; and still shall be
Gathered again unto a happier end,

In the pure city of the Son of God,
And temple yet to be rebuilt in Zion;
Which, though once overthrown, and once again
Torn down to its foundations, in the quick
Of earth, shall soul-like yet re-rise from ruin-
High, holy, happy, stainless as a star,
Imperishable as eternity.

The angel ended; and the winds, waves, clouds,
The sun, the woods, and merry birds went on
As theretofore, in brightness, strength, and music;
One scarce could think that earth at all had fallen,
To look upon her beauty. If the brand
Of sin were on her brow, it was surely hid
In natural art from every eye but God's.
All things seemed innocence and happiness.
I was all thanks. And look! the angel said,
Take these, and give to one thou lovest best:
Mine own hands saved them from the shining ruin
Whereof I have late told thee; and she gave
What now are greenly glowing on thine arms.
Ere I could answer, she was up, star-high!
Winging her way through heaven.

GOETHE'S CAMPAIGN IN 1792.

Campaign in France in the Year 1792. Translated from the German of Goethe by R. Farie. Post 8vo. Chapman and Hall. The fame of Goethe, like that of our own Coleridge, is growing year by year. The avalanches are accumulating, and their influence will, ere long, descend into the valleys of human intelligence. Hitherto they have maintained an unapproachable eminence; but their presence amongst us, on the level of the humblest companionship, may be daily expected.

Mr. Farie, the editor of the present work, has extracted in this volume so much of Goethe's memoirs as relates to the invasion of France in the year 1792, by the allied army, under the command of the King of Prussia and the Duke of Brunswick, on which occasion Goethe accompanied the Duke of Weimar. Here we have the result of the poet's observations at once, both graphic and profound.

Nothing is too minute, nothing too lofty for his contemplation. The following extracts will show the extent of his poetic sympathy:

A PASTORAL TRAGEDY.

"Thus did the Prussians, Austrians, and a portion of the French, come to carry on their warlike operations on the French soil. By whose power and authority did they this? They might have done it in their own name. War had been partly declared against themtheir league was no secret ; but another pretext was invented. They took the field in the name of Louis XVI.: they exacted nothing, but they borrowed compulsorily: Bons had been printed which the commander signed: but whoever had them in his possession filled them up at his pleasure, according to circumstances, and Louis XVI. was to pay. Per haps, after the manifesto, nothing had so much

exasperated the people against the monarchy | ever, that the horrible uneasy feeling arising from it is produced in us solely through the ears. For the cannon thunder, the howling, whistling, crashing of the balls through the air, is the real cause of these sensations.

as did this treatment, I was myself present at a scene which I remember as a most tragic one. Several shepherds who had succeeded in uniting their flocks, in order to conceal them for safety in the forests or other retired places, being seized by some active patrols, and brought to the army, were at first well received and kindly treated. They were asked who were the different proprietors: the flocks were separated and counted. Anxiety and fear, but still with some hope, fluctuated in the countenances of the worthy people. But when this mode of proceeding ended in the division of the flocks among the regiments and companies, whilst, on the other hand, the pieces of paper drawn on Louis XVI. were handed over quite civilly to their proprietors, and their woolly favorites were slaughtered at their feet by the impatient and hungry soldiers, I confess that my eyes and my soul have seldom witnessed a more cruel spectacle, and more profound manly suffering in all its gradations. The Greek tragedies alone have any thing so purely, deeply pathetic."

Take, also, the description of his feelings while undergoing the effect of a cannonade, the dangers of which, with his characteristic fearlessness, the poet had audaciously dared :

THE CANNON fever.

"I had now arrived quite in the region where the balls were playing across me: the sound of them is curious enough, as if it were composed of the humming of tops, the gurgling of water, and the whistling of birds. They were less dangerous by reason of the wetness of the ground; wherever one fell, it stuck fast. And thus my foolish experimental ride was secured against the danger, at least, of the balls rebounding.

"In the midst of these circumstances, I was soon able to remark that something unusual was taking place within me; I paid close attention to it, and still the sensation can only be described by similitude. It appeared as if you were in some extremely hot place, and at the same time quite penetrated by the heat of it, so that you feel yourself, as it were, quite one with the element in which you are. The eyes lose nothing of their strength or clearness; but it is as if the world had a kind of brownred tint, which makes the situation as well as the surrounding objects more impressive. I was unable to perceive any agitation of the blood; but everything seemed rather to be swallowed up in the glow of which I speak. From this, then, it is clear in what sense this condition can be called a fever. It is remarkable, how

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After I had ridden back, and was in perfect security, I remarked with surprise that the glow was completely extinguished, and not the slightest feverish agitation left behind. On the whole, this condition is one of the least desirable, as indeed, among my dear and noble comrades, I found scarcely one who expressed a really passionate desire to try it.

The following is a highly dramatic scene:

A SINGULAR NIGHT SCENE.

"A violent knocking was heard at the fastlocked outer-door, to which they paid no attention, as they had no desire to admit more visitors; the knocking continued, a most plaintive female voice calling out, and beseeching clamorously that the door might be opened. Softened at length, they unlocked the door, and an old woman, one of the camp-followers, rushed in, carrying something wrapped up in a cloth on her arm; behind her was a young woman, not bad-looking, but pale and debilitated, and scarcely able to stand on her legs.

In a few words, and with great energy, the old crone explained the state of the case, displaying a naked infant, of which the woman had been delivered on their flight. They had, in this way, been left behind, and ill-treated by the peasants, and this night had arrived at last at our door. The mother, as her milk had left her, had not yet been able since the child was born to give it any nourishment. The old woman now demanded impetuously, meal, milk, and a pan, and linen to wrap the child in. As she did not know French, we had to ask for her; but her imperious and passionate gestures gave sufficient pantomimic weight and emphasis to what we said. What she demanded could not be brought fast enough; and when it was brought it was not good enough for her. It was curious, too, her alertness in going to work; she soon drove us back from the fire, the best place being immediately engaged for the young mother, she herself sitting upon her stool with as confident an air as if the house had been her own. In a twinkling the child was washed and wrapped up, the pap boiled; she fed the little creature first, then the mother, paying little attention to herself. Afterwards she required fresh clothes for the sick woman, whilst the old ones were drying. We looked at her in amazement; she understood how to make requisitions.

"The rain abated: we went to our former

quarters, and shortly after the hussars brought the sow. We paid what seemed a reasonable price for it. It had now to be slaughtered; this was done, and a staple being found in the beam of the adjoining room, it was hung up there, to be properly cut up and prepared.

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That our hosts, on this occasion, manifested no ill-nature, but displayed rather a desire to help us, appeared somewhat singular to us, as they had good reason to consider our conduct both barbarous and inconsiderate. In the same room in which we were carrying on the operation, the children were lying in their clean beds, and being awakened by the noise we made, they peered out prettily from among the blankets, with frightened glances. The Sow was hanging close to a large double marriage-bed, closed in carefully with green serge, the curtains constituting a picturesque background to the illuminated carcass. It was a night-piece without its like. But the inmates could not have indulged in such reflections; we remarked rather that they had some grudge against the people from whom the sow had been taken, and felt a certain malicious pleasure about it. We had before, also, promised them some of the meat and sausages; and this

was all serviceable to us in the operation, which had to be completed in a few hours. Our hussar now showed himself as active and alert in his department, as the gipsy over the way did in hers; and we already enjoyed, in anticipation, the good sausages and joints of meat which were to fall to us as our share of the booty. To await this, we lay down in the smithy of our host upon some delicious corn shocks, and slept soundly till day broke. Meanwhile our hussar had finished his business inside the house; breakfast was ready waiting for us, and the remainder of the beast packed up, our hosts having first obtained their share, not without some discontent on the part of our people, who maintained that kindness was ill bestowed upon them, having doubtless both meat and other good things concealed, which we had not yet learned the proper way of ferreting out."

It is in the painting of such scenes that Goethe's excellence consists. The present work is so full of them, that it might be nearly all quoted. It concludes with a description of the siege of Mentz, which will be read with peculiar intetest.-Jerrold's Newspaper.

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC INTELLIGENCE.

MINOR NOVELS AND COMICALITIES. It is humane, no doubt, in place of "breaking but terflies on a wheel" to lay them pleasantly on a bed of roses, singing charitably the while,

Poor insect! what a little day
Of summer bliss is thine;-

but entomological benevolence may be carried too far. It must not be. forgotten that among the "winged tribe" is numbered The Family Locust famous for bringing down dearth on the land where it alights. There is a point, in short, at which the interests of a race nobler than the genus Papilio demand that the Philanthropist should lay by the gauze net and take up the fumigating apparatus.

Such is in some degree the position from which the Critic must now regard these tiny books which for the moment unwholesomely threaten to supersede every other order of prose fiction. With the increase of the library is increasing the audacity of its authors and their disposition to experimentalize upon popular endurance. Not an accident or occurrence of daily life is now thought unworthy

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of being minutely novelized. We shall ere long have "The Comb," with cuts, Brush," with border illustrations,-"Dealings in the Dust-hole"-" A Pictorial Washing Book" -a "Comic Knife Board." Meanwhile, to alternate with such familiarities - for the edification of the world which is too sentimental to amuse itself in the scullerywe find the terrible and equally unrefined sublimities of the Minerva Press (the "fonts" whereof are broken up) reappearing in fragmentary and cheap forms. Bowls, daggers, ghosts, cloisters, come out once a month, "to be continued," with a rank plenteousness that is disconcerting.-There is a third modus operandi. The cells of Bedlam are opened— the depths of the Thames are dragged-blind alleys are ransacked--and night-houses invited to tell their secrets; and this under pretext of nature and sympathy and philanthropic ef fort!

That some of our most popular and bestintentioned authors are not guiltless of having brought about this state of affairs is a fact which must never be forgotten when we are

dealing with the fry whom their success has warmed into life-but the statement thereof will be sufficient for the moment. Let us also seriously declare that our speculations are generally directed against the Ragged Schools of fiction, physiology, philosophy, &c., which have recently been so liberally opened, rather than against any one particular master or mistress engaged in trash-teaching. We consider the deterioration of the instructors no less than the mischief done to their clients; and, having been obliged to some among them for merry moments ere the flux of production so fiercely set in, we are anxious to return service for service. Most of these works would not be worth mentioning at all-but that many of them are the works of men who can do far better things.

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Here is lively Mr. Angus Reach, who opens The Book with the Iron Clasps,' alias "Clement Lorimer," with a grim determination to treat us to a story of tradition, crime and mystery, à la mode Française. It is impossible to foresee into how much bad company we may be led ere the Book be shut, when a vow of revenge has once been taken by the hero of a fiction, we know from awful experience that he is "to stick at nothing" to the very last page in which his exit downwards takes place; especially when at the very outset we have two poisonings and one noyade!

What need was there, O pleasant Thomas Miller! for you to again begin (the tenth time at least that they have been attempted) with "The Mysteries of London"? Sue "led the way;" and people have been found to defend his morality-very nearly as wisely as those who could regard a Witches' Sabbath as a rite of real worship. But we had hoped that after many false starts and failures "The Mysteries of London" would remain unrevealed. But they will not be disclosed by Mr. Miller -so far as the first numbers of the disclosures here commenced warrant us in prophecy. This anticipated we may add, that for an author to leave "bubbling runnels" for the kennels of St. Giles and Marylebone-Sherwood Forest for the Rookery-and Maud and Marian for the wax-work rich folks and the pennytheatre poor ones here introduced, seems a melancholy exchange,-a voluntary hastening down hill.

From these dismal books we will turn to one or two comic ones-comic ?-nay, rather farcical, of the broadest and most familiar quality. The Pottleton Legacy, by Mr. Albert Smith the productive, troubles us mightily." If the school of minute observation is to lead to the description of such scenes as Miss Twinch's

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miserly housekeeping and railroad journey as the party at the Wracketts' and Mrs. Cooze's London hospitality,-why, loth as we are to discourage Truth and Nature, we must say "better shut the school" for any profit likely to accrue from its teachings. There may be nothing strictly objectionable therein, but the entertainment is addressed to the lowest order of intelligence. The laugher becomes ashamed of having laughed. Nor are we to be propitiated by the wicked characters brought forward in imitation of the pitch-black shadows of late too recklessly dealt in by Mr. Dickens. Mr. Smith might have produced something far superior to this tale-but a few essays more in the same style will go far to destroy his powers utterly.

We can give only one short paragraph to three more little books. M. Angus Reach is more at home in The Comic Bradshaw, or, Bubbles from the Boiler, than in his tale of the Italian vendetta. The best hits in the same author's London on the Thames, or, Life above and below Bridge, are to be found among the "sixty-two illustrations by Hine, Gavarni, and others."-Mr. Carleton's Natural History of the "Hawk" Tribe is vulgar-if we must call things by their right names. The idea, too, was apparently suggested by Mr. Thackeray's "Rook" and "Pigeon," in the "Heads of the People."-Athenæum.

RECENT INVENTIONS. Australian Wool, and Cloth from It.-Assuredly one of the most important of our colonial productions is wool. The rapid increase of the importation of this article from Australia is among the most remarkable of our statistical returns. Twenty-two years ago, 323,995lb. of wool were imported to Great Britain from Australia; in 1840, it was 12,162,613lb., according to official returns. Since then the importations of this article are shown to have reached the enormous amount of upwards of 60,000,000lb. Such an augmention in so short a time even go-a-head people will admit is surprising. The superiority of the Australian wool gives it the preference in the English market, for general purposes. In fact Australia now supplies the wool from which the very finest of our woollen fabrics may be manufactured, and there can be no doubt but that the production and sale of this article is destined to become one of the most important branches of our commerce. From this wool Mr. Sayce, of Cornhill, has manufactured a very beautiful wool-dyed cloth, smooth, glossy, firm, yet delicate. Certainly, there is some inequality if we compare it to cloth from Saxony wool; but the inequality is not in quality (we plead guil

ty to a clashing of words, but we state a simple | matter of fact)—it is in price. Australia undersells Saxony. Mr. Sayce is cheaper than Frome or Leeds. Now that so much is said and done and we some time ago predicted that such would be the case-in the way of emigration, we notice this matter of Australian produce more fully than we otherwise should. We must give a word to another manufacture for which men are indebted to Mr. Sayce the thermogenic (those Greek names!) cloth, made from the undyed black wool of a particular kind of Australian sheep, made into the warmest driving or travelling coats. Most people have been annoyed with the unseemliness of the seams of such coats, especially dark-colored coats, before the garment was half-worn; black at the back, white at the elbows. This whitening-it has a disreputable whitewashed look-is rendered impossible by Mr. Sayce's manufacture of cloth. from wool naturally black. Wear cannot affect its hue, neither can weather. It is dark to the last, and being colored by Nature, of course will not, even when wet, soil the most delicate of gloves; nor needs it to be " stored." In a very excellent work, Bischoff's History of Woollen and Worsted Manufactures," it is said, on the authority of Mr. Henry Hughes, wool-broker, as he gave information to a committee of the House of Lords: "They [Australian wools] are known to require less of the milling or fulling power than any other description of wools. Fine woolled sheep have been exported to those colonies, and they have improved in a wonderful degree, which cannot be accounted for by the best judges, except from the climate. The sheep run there, as in this country, without any care; they are left to themselves; the climate does not require the housing of them as in Germany." Hence a greater cheapness. Other merchants and colonists fully corroborated Mr. Hughes.

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Column" to these epithems, and the substance of which they are composed, spongio-piline— a fabric of sponge and wool felted together, coated on one surface with caoutchouc. We showed its great usefulness and superiority for the application of poultices, fomentations, blis ters, &c. A report, addressed by Mr. W. Thompson Kay, assistant-surgeon of the Plymouth division of Royal Marines, to Sir W. Burnett, the medical director-general of the navy, shows the excellence of this invention. Mr. Kay says, as to the durability of the material, "Under ordinary circumstances a piece of this fabric may be applied from 50 to 60, or even more than 100 times as a poultice, without any diminution of its good qualities or deterioration of its material. I have frequently applied it more than 60, in many cases 80 or 90 times, and in two or three upwards of 100.

Improvement in Chronometers.-Mr. Loseby has produced an improvement in chronometers little known beyond the Admiralty. He has applied mercury to make chronometers re-"keep the even tenor of their way" in all temperatures, as ship-chronometers are generally adjusted for extremes of heat and cold, and "gain" in the intermediate temperatures. The excellence of the invention is shown by the following extracts from the Astronomer Royal's report to the Admiralty Board :—“I consider this invention (taking advantage very happily of the two distinguishing properties of mercury-its fluidity, and its great thermal expansion) as the most ingenious that I have seen, and the most perfectly adaptable to the wants of chronometers. I am not aware that it is liable to any special inconvenience.

Markwick's Patent Epithems.-Some time ago we called attention in our "Inventors'

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I think it my duty to report as my opinion that Mr. Loseby's construction has successfully effected its object, and remarking the ingenuity of the method used, and the fertility of its principle, I now state as my opinion to the Board of Admiralty, that Mr. Loseby is entitled to their lordships' general encouragement."

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