now vouchsafed to you? The voice was of a nature to leave an impression painfully consonant with my preceding anticipations. Its prevailing character was majesty. It was plaintive, no doubt, and tender; but yet in the richness of the full, mellow, unbroken swell of sound, and even in the delicacy of the departing cadences, there was a dignity which seemed to discriminate from the expression of immediate suffering, the tone of sympathy with sorrows well known in times past, but now remembered rather than endured. I was not so silly as to think that the dirge was sung by a being relieved from the encumbrance of mortality. No; nothing could less resemble the vox exilis' ascribed, from time immemorial, to the shadowy wanderers of the night: but do not think me refining, when I add, that a sustained nobleness imparted to the pathos of the manly voice which entranced me, a character rather of commiseration than anguish, a character which seemed to claim for it a freedom from the ordinary testimonies of suffering, and taught you to understand an exception to the rule, that he must first weep himself who would draw tears from his hearers. 6 Whatever you may think of my su perstition, you believe, I am sure, that my love of music is sincere, and that the admiration I felt could only be awakened by very rare excellence of voice and manner. You may think that my ominous feelings were absurd, but will at the same time believe, that the artist who called them forth must have been accomplished, and of high distinction. What will you say, then, when I tell you it was impossible to obtain from any of the people of the house the slightest information as to whence or from whom the rich melody proceeded. It would be tedious to dilate on the effect produced on me. I have been delivered up again to alarms which I thought had departed from me for ever. It seems as if all my faculties have been explored to find out where I was most vulnerable; and "even in the hour when my heart was most gay," Shakspeare's words and Stevenson's music, and a voice worthy to be their minister, meet together in the air at Newhaven, to chase from me my cheerful mood, and recall my sad presentiments. 66 What business had they there at such a time?" * A. W. ATHENS. BY SAMUEL FERGUSON, ESQ. All pious joys may thrill the Athenian man Still holds to heaven those trophies unsubdued The famousest that e'er to ocean ran. In her own tongue, can give the natal soil ANNOYANCES OF A POET. 66 GENUS IRRITABILE." The first and principal annoyance is to be deficient in genius, and that, where one has a longing to be poetical, "the wish" is not always "parent of the thought." It is annoying to feel one's self a swan, and yet to be generally mistaken for a goose. It is annoying, after you have soared into “the highest heaven of invention," that people will not perceive the poetry, but call your sublimest flights non sense. It is annoying that the banks of "wizard streams" are commonly so damp, that inspiration is not to be got but at the risk of a fit of rheumatism. It is annoying that Milton and Shakspeare wrote so much and so well. Öriginality is out of the question, and yet the want of it is continually objected to one as a most heinous crime. It is annoying that there should be such harsh words in the language as blockhead, ass, idiot, dunce, dolt, driveller, &c.-they are so excessively convenient to ill-disposed critics and reviewers. It is annoying that ideas should be not quite so plenty as blackberries. It is annoying that salt herrings should be so enormously expensive. It is annoying that immortality should not be a property of a suit of clothes. It is annoying that hurricanes will blow aside the skirts of one's coat at times when the integrity of one's nether garments is anything but unimpeachable. It is annoying to be compelled, for want of the price of a sheet of brown paper, to paste your exquisite sonnet to " A Sweet Zephyr" on a shattered pane of glass, to protect your garret from the intrusions of his blustering brother Boreas. It is annoying when unblest with the 'non deficiente crumena,' to be urged by the demon curiosity to lay out five pence upon a daily paper, which treats you either to silent contempt, or 'declines your favour as unsuited, &c. with thanks.' It is annoying when, in the assumed garb of a constant reader,' or with the soubriquet of 'a steady subscriber,' you present to the editor of a monthly periodical, with most sincere wishes for the success of his patriotic designs,' an ode, a sonnet, lines for music, or a monody on a dear friend, and to betray by your blushes of virtuous indignation, and your leaving the magazine on the publisher's counter when you have perused the list of contents, that you are the Petrarch' or the Philo' or the Qin the corner' that won't do.' It is annoying, if you are a bachelor, to be a poetical tutor in a patrician family, to mistake politeness for passion, to address some heart-rending stanzes to one of the petticoat high blood, and to be suddenly metamorphosed, in consequence, into a philosopher of the exoteric school, when you find yourself at, what is called in your native patois, 'the wrong side of the hall door.' It is annoying, when enamoured of one in your own rank, to assemble together all the qualities which constitute female infinite perfection, and to discover, having 'pummelled your wall and nibbled your nails to the quick,' that your Dulcinea, though a mere milliner, or modish mantua-maker, is still sagacious enough to draw an impassable line of distinction between plain reason with cash, and polished rhyme without credit. It is annoying, if married, to have the career of composition checked by the clamours and uproar of little Colin, Thyrsis, Phyllis, Alexis, and Corydon, and to be unable from the wasted state of one's exchequer to provide their mamma with birch-rods to keep them quiet. It is annoying that Corydon should eat up, at a single meal, the whole produce of an epic poem as long as the Jerusalem Delivered. It is annoying that twelve cantos should not purchase Thyrsis a pair of shoes. It is annoying that your wife's name should happen to be Biddy. It is annoying to dream of Houris the live-long night, and, on awaking, to observe that Biddy is not an Houri. It is annoying that Biddy should not be content with one hundred and forty-five stanzas upon her birth-day; but should be so unreasonable as to ask for the price of a flannel petticoat. It is annoying that your baker should refuse to accept draughts of Helicon in discharge of his year's bill. It is annoying to be a fanatical admirer of the country, and yet pass one's entire life in Dirty-lane. It is annoying, when you have outdone yourself at a lampoon, to find that the object of your satire has no intention whatever of committing suicide. It is annoying to be harassed to join a Temperance Society, when your tipplings and excesses for the last seven years have been limited to pots of beer, and even those only the "tricks of strong imagination." It is annoying to be taken by the public for a species of chamelion. It is annoying to observe the face of the churchwarden, when he goes round with the poor box on Sundays—he looks as if he thought one worth a whole penny sterling. It is annoying to be informed by an experienced phrenologist that you are rather defective in ideality, but that your constructiveness is so well developed that you would, probably, make a very respectable carpenter. It is annoying-but it were as feasible to count "the leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa," as to reckon up all the annoyances of a poet. EPITAPH ON A GIRL WHO WAS SPEECHLESS LONG BEFORE HER DEATH. "Mors vocis iter properavit cludere blandæ, Ne posset duras flectere lingua deas" MART. Ep. 11. 48 or 29. A mournful band around thy grave, too late In dread of heaven, upon thy lips his hand The monster placed-then reared aloft his brand- And struck secure-he knew its tears were vain- Have drawn the arm of power athwart the blow. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF SIR CHARLES LEWIS METZLER VON GIESECKE, LATE PROFESSOR OF MINERALOGY TO THE ROYAL DUBLIN SOCIETY. PART I. Charles Lewis Metzler, the subject of this memoir, was born (one of twins*) at Augsburgh, in Bavaria, on the 6th April, 1761. His father was a respectable wine merchant, by whom he was educated in the Augsburgh confession of faith, in which he stedfastly continued through life. He was placed, at an early age, at the University of Göttingen, where, for a time his studies were influenced by the desire to gratify an aged grandmother, whose darling ambition was to see him shine in the pulpit. Her decease, however, put a period to the course of divinity which he had been pursuing, and some stronger surviving influence turned his attention to the law, in which course of study he continued for some time, but not with that degree of devotedness essential to success. In truth, the mind of young Metzler was not well adapted for the continuous pursuit of metaphysical or abstract studies of any kind. He rejoiced in the fair face of the material world, and in the literature which pourtrayed the actions and passions of humanity. Even amid his legal cares he zealously studied mineralogy, under the celebrated Blumenbach; he also became intimate with Schiller, Klopstock, and Göethe, and maintained a friendly correspondence with the latter for many years. His literary taste must have been very decided at an early age, for we find him associated with Heyné, in his celebrated translation of Homer, and bringing out a translation of Hamlet on the Vienna stage, which was highly admired, and performed for an entire week together. The young student seemed, at this period, much enamoured with the stage, for we find him performing Hamlet, and other favourite characters, with the zeal of a devoted amateur. It is not at all impossible that the incidents which marked this era of his life might have served his friend Goethe as a foundation for the dramatic part of the career of his enthusiastic hero Wilhelm Meister. His love of music was so strong as to amount to a ruling passion; and though he never attained to any particular eminence as a performer, his compositions were much admired. Whilst attached to the stage, he was concerned in the composition of two operas, the musical departments of which were especially allotted to him. Little is, however, known in this country respecting his productions in this peculiarly captivating path of literature, into which youthful talent is so often seduced; even the names of the operas are unknown, and we are only acquainted with the denouement, too frequently the fate of uncalculating, aspiring, and all-confiding genius, viz. the failure of the company in whose frail bark Lewis Metzler "and his fortunes" had embarked on the dangerous voyage of dramatic enterprize; the "thousand and one" distresses and embarrassments that await on pecuniary disappointments; and finally, the endeavour to escape from the disagreeable associations of ideas and persons that began to crowd on his ruined fortunes by an expedient which with British stage-stricken youths is generally a preliminary-the adoption of a new sirname. Young Metzler chose that of his mother's family, von Giesecke, and, fortunately for science and himself, renounced the stage for His mother had several other children twin-born, and once three at a birth. X after his discomfiture in the histrionic art, appears to have completely engrossed it. And here it may not be unimportant to those who take a phrenological view of human nature, its pursuits and successes, to record one of Giesecke's marked characteristics—the capability of estimating size and weight by the eye and hand. Up to the latest day of his life he could guess to an ounce the weight of any hand specimen of several pounds weight which he picked up in his excursions; his eye was almost a perfect measure of mineral proportions, and a single view often sufficed him to develop the intricacies of mixed crystallizations, and predict with confidence the angles and resulting specific forms which lay concealed beneath apparent confusion. : It appears that he regularly recommenced the study of mineralogy in his thirty-third year, viz. in 1794, under Werner, at Freyburg, with considerable success. Ernest, now reigning prince of Saxe-Cobourg Gotha, brother of Leopold, King of the Belgians, was a student in this famous school at the same time, and associated with Giesecke in his scientific researches. From henceforth the latter seems to have devoted himself to the study of mineralogy with unremitting attention, and cultivated the acquaintance of many of the most talented and rising mineralogists of Germany and Sweden, with whom he subsequently maintained a correspondence, interchanging discoveries and observations that must have been in the highest degree interesting and improving, for we find in the list, besides Werner and Blumenbach, the celebrated names of Karsten, Klaproth, Gallitzin, Crete, Elkeberg, Afzelius, &c. whose labours in the field of mineral and chemical science have secured them a reputation as imperishable as the substances whose characters they devoted their lives to develop. The travels which M. Giesecke undertook in furtherance of his passion for the acquisition of a thorough knowledge of minerals, led him through a considerable portion of Germany, Sweden, Norway, and the Faroe Islands, -descending into and examining almost every mine of consequence, securing for his future museum the most interesting specimens which his means would enable him to attain, and adding, at every step, to his stock of knowledge in this important branch of natural history. His zeal and intelligence attracted considerable attention to his researches, and he was elected a member of several literary and scientific societies, such as Berlin, Upsala, Jena, Augsburgh, &c. The very warlike and unsettled state of affairs throughout the Continent at this period, did not hold forth much encouragement to the exclusive pursuit either of dramatic literature or his more favourite science of mineralogy, and M. Giesecke entered the Austrian service, in which his desire of scientific travel was gratified by an appointment in the suite of Prince Metternich, as Assistant Secretary of Legation, in his embassy to Selim II. at Constantinople. Under this diplomatic safe conduct, he traversed and inspected the rich mineral districts of Hungary, Transylvania, Bohemia, Styria, and Carinthia. He was also engaged on another occasion in the train of a similar embassy to Naples, when an opportunity occurred, which he eagerly availed himself of, to ascend and examine Mount Vesuvius, from which he brought an interesting collection of specimens. M. Giesecke continued in the Austrian service until he received a wound in the right instep, which rendered him slightly lame ever after, and obliged him to wear a high heel to his shoe to compensate for a contraction that took place in consequence. This lameness necessarily led to his retirement from the army, and subsequently to his settlement in Copenhagen, where he opened a school of mineralogy, and dealt extensively in minerals, which his intimate knowledge of the mines of Germany and Transylvania enabled him to obtain in select and valuable assortments. Here he remained till 1801, when Nelson attacked the city. M. Giesecke's residence happened unfortunately to occupy a conspicuous site in front of the English squadron, and was a principal sufferer by the general fire that spread through the city during that memorable bombardment. His house and cabinets of minerals were burnt, his pupils dispersed, or otherwise engaged in that eventful crisis of the fate of Denmark, and his as a resident there arrangements completely overthrown. With a view |