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And where'er thy footsteps tread,
Then peace to thy spirit, as spotless and sweet See the lowly fow'rets spread.
As tbis tear of sincerity given; Twined in thy yellow hair,
Then peace to thy spirit, again weshall meet, Bring the daisy, fresband fair;
Sweet Boy, in yon beautiful Heaven.
From the Gentleman's Magazine,
MR. URBAN, Taunton, Aug. 25. Come, oh! come, and let me see, Joy, and hope, and prace, with thee. MR. JACKSON having complained, in his last Lei thy glance, with I fe divine,
Lecture, that na person had been found to O'er my precincts meekly shine ;
celebrate Sir H. Davy's triumph over the Haste, oh! hasten to the bow'r,
Fire Damp, which had been destructive Bring the wreath, and bring the flow'r,
to Miners before the invention of his SafeSport amid the lucid tide,
ty Lamp, I have been induced to make the See the meadows in their pride,
following dramatic sketch. Mark the lambkins in their play:
Yours, &c. LYCHNOPAORUS. Come, thou lov'd ooe, come away. Nature's choristers advance,
CCENE-A Coal Mine that has not been Calling to the jocund dance ;
entered since the great explosion, A.D. hear their voices as they rise,
1754.--- FIRE DAMP seated in a ma sy elbow Hailing sweet the vaulted skies;
chair, with his hands in his pockets; a white Weary Earth.....she waits like me,
night-cap cousiderably soiled, on his head, See, she longs, she pants for thee.
and, to all appearance frigbtened out of bis Come, oh ! come then, balmy Spring,
wits. All thy beauties bither bring;
Carbgrets, &c. &c. stand around at reCome and grace this lov'd retreat,
spectful distances, but none of them risible Come and share iny rustic seat;
by reason of PITC#-DARKNESS. Come, oh ! core, with all thy charms,
FIRE DAMP rises and takes a turn- (not Come, and bless thy lover', arms.
only revolving on his own axis, but with a Think oot time oor summer's ray
mutual revolution among his particles), he Shall my passion melt away,
soliloquizes alter the manner of Comedians." Or that autumn's yellow hair «Will to me seem bright or fair.
Sgall hwho claim these mansions as my Thou art as the op'ning day, Suminer sets in Aatumu's ray;
Quit my nomains, and abdicate my throne Hope of bliss thy glances east,
· Before this opstart mortal, who would be Summer smiles when thou art past.
Prince of the Air, and govern even me? Fair is autumn with her train,
Shail he, another Tamerlane, confine * Sweeping o'er the loaded plain ;
Me, the illu-trious Monarch of the Mine, Fair the crowded board she brings,
And make the object of his barbarouseage And fresh the fruitage of her springs,
A poor, insulted prisoner in a cage ? Fair is Autunan, bui her charms
A save --- a paltry instruinent of his --Soon are lost in Winter's arms.
Shall I disgrace my ancestors for this? Promis'd hope, tiy joys, my fair,
Give up my empire and eristence too Sweet as roses in the air.
To feed his Lamp ? no--buro me if I do--Haete, then hasten to my bow'r,
My Royal father (blessings on bis head) Bring the wreath, and bring the flow'r. Exploded now and number'd with the dead,
Maintain'd his honour with his latest breath,
Dreaded through life, and desperate in From the Panorama, Nov 1818.
When dire COMBUSTION ventur'd to attack ON THE DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL These murky regions, how he drove him BOY.
backBY J. W. LAKE.
Destroy'd---annihilated---put him out,
And slew his comrades in ihe general rout. T SA W thee, sweet Boy, in the blush of thy He died---but ey'n ip death his glors rose, yonth,
He died, Jike Samson, with his slaugbter'd Like a flower in its loveliness blowing,
fors. All bright in the beaming and beauty of truth, Born at that moment in his watery graveAnd thine eye in its innocence glowing. Not yet a gas---ap embryo in the wave
I weil remember with what joy I view'd I saw thee-o-nor thought in the bue of that Our royal cavern with their bodies strew'd. wreath
Dimpling I smil'd to catch the widows' lear, Which the rose and the lily had wove, The orphans' moan was music to my ea On by fair budding check the foul mildew Each lengthen'd sigh---each agonizingoan of death
Linock'd with bollow murmurs of my 01.11, Would blight the fond promise of love. And joy'd to think that, one day, decompos'd,
No more by liquid particles enclos'd, I lov'd thee, sweet Boy, for in thee were en- I 100 mighi emulate my father's death, shrin'd
And slay my thousands with my parting What my youth and my promise had
Now, now, alas ! sad rumours reach my ears, Ere Ingratitude rose, like the dark desart Destroy my rest, and fill my soul with sears. wind,
But ATMOSPHERIC, my good friend, arrives, Ere Misery made me her own.
And with his presence sick'ning hope sevives.
( Enter ATMOSPHERIC out of breath.) Or, where the Desert's whirlwind columns* Good Atmospheric !-- I am glad thou’rt come, - roll; I want good news---aod dost thou bring me Or, to the ice-bergs crashing
Or, to the ice-bergs crashing round the Pole; soine?
Or, on the dome which feels the earthquake (ATMOSPAERIC sighs---but is manifestly una- Or, in the 'cloud that swathes the young
shock; ble to speak.)
Siror ; Oh! how I envy thee---the light-wing'd Or, where the Rhetian avelanche bad swell'd breeze
To Heaven---suspended rather than upheld--Bears thee aloft o'er continents and seas; Far, far above the valley's scene of rest--No boods confine thee---thou art free to rove An Eagle hovering o'er the Ring-dove's nest : The perfum'd garden and the spicy grove, With red, dilated eye, and monster form--Steal odours from Hymettus, and then sail He follows close the Spirit of the storm--To shed the fragrance over Tempe's vale ; Who, like a wrathful seraph, rides the wind To sip at will the pearly dews of night, Jo awful beauty. fell, nor far behind, Or bask and wanton in the solar light
A hell-scaped, nameless, brood comes yelling Or faint and scorch'd beneath the fervid“ beam,
Who blight whate'er they breathe or look To sweep the surface of the rippling stream.
upon. Oh how I envy thee---debarr'd the light, Some glare like beacons o'er the troubled And fix'd forever in eternal night,
tide--I know no change : for should I quit my Some start the timbers in the galley's side place,
Some sport in liquid flame o'er sail and And seek for freedom in the realms of space,
mat--If dire COMBUSTION meet me, how could I, Some mutter hollow warnings in the blast--Unmir'd and uncompress'd, the fiend defy ? Some fie the forest, some the heathy mounOr, too much mix'd, altho'the fiend I iniss'd,
tain--Diluted, dissipated, I should not exist. Some hurl the hanging rock to cheak the FATMOSPHERIC with eagerness---but evidently
fountainscarcely recovered from a stale of exhaus
Some lore the nigbied traveller to the lake, tion. )
Or plant his foot opon the tartled snake--
Some snap the roof-tree e'er the antient hall, No more, my friend--- I cannot stay to hear
And crusli the social circle in its fall; Arm with dispatch--the enemy is near--- Ever while around the blazing bearth they Swift he approaches---even while I speak,
press, Trembling, I hear his dirty basket creak--- And pity those at sea, or shelterless! He comes--the Magic Lantern I discern; Eacb' pties his deun task ere night be Now, fire and fury-blaze, blow up, and burn. doue--
(Enter Sir KuveARY Dayy voith a Sufeln For well they know they must not meet the Lamp in one hand, and Netoman's Blow Pipe
Sun: in the other. )---FIRE Damp makes an attack Whilst Nature sobs, convulsed, o'er field and on the Lamp, but the retreat of his forces be
'food. Cutoff as fast as they come to the attack,
he attack. To mars her Spring thus blighted in the he is nibiroyed by inches. In the course of
bud! the struggle he utters many exclamations,
Heaven' in thy mercy soothe Her wild disnone of them reducible to writing.
What remains of him, Sir HUMPHRY compresses
Whose babes, perchance, this night are fathinto his Blow Pipe, and sends oj) from it a,
erless : sky-rocket of goited platina. On seeing the
If any fali, to gailt decree its fate--signal, old KING Coal, comes forward from
Nor leave the loving heart all desolate ! the back of the stage, where he has been con
Blast with thy withering frown his cursed Sned by the usurper,-- He com: liments the
career, Hero on his victory, and is in turn congratu
The perjured Murderer, the Mutineer: lated on his restoration ---Sir HUMPHRY
Let not that wretch fold wife or infant more, invites him to dinner; be courteously declines
Whose gold is aich ymised from Africk's the invitation, (evide: (ly mistaking him for
gore: the Duke of the sa be wame)---but" calls for
Lanch thy red arrow at the pirate's deck, his fidlers three ;".--they play. The whole
Vor leave, for hope, the remrant of a wreck. concludes with a grand dance of Pick-axes
On these thy violated laws resent--and Shovels, singiog
Ob! spare the weak, and shield the innocent!
EusTACE. Hurrah ---the Tyrant is dead, Davy bath sain him, and, ut off his head; Darv hath slarn the Philistine at last,
** We were here at once surprised and And Davi', locker shall hold him fast.
terrified by a sight surely the inost magnifi. Escuni omnes. cent in the world : in that vast expanse of de
sert, from W. and to NW. of us, we saw a
number of prodigious pillars of sand at citire From tbe Literary Gazelle.
elit distances, ältune's moving with great re
lerity, at othery stalking with inajestic slowDESTRUCTION.
ness; at intervals we thought they were con
ing in a very few moinenis to overwhelm us, N ESTRUCTION walks abroad---escay- and small quantities of sand did acry ed the doom
more than once reach us : again they would Wach cbaiced him to Vesnvius' fiery womb; retreat, so as to be almost out of sight, tie ir Or, in the stunning Maelstroom's black abyss; tous reaching to the very clouds.".--BRUCE. Or, on the peak of Benmore's precipice;
See Southey's " Thalaba," Book IV.
From the Literary Gazette.
To ineet but strangers there!
0, I would bang my head most sorrowful, FRIENDSHIP,
And think on them, Earth's woe-worn wan
derers, A DRAMATIC SKETCH.
Whom I had smil'd and wept with --Day,
would sue CAARACTERS--- A Venetian and a Turk.
To have my griefs again SCENE--- The Rialto at Venice.
(And I have had no niggard share, God
To feel the balm of natural sympathy .... W HEN thou art far, remember which many a good Samaritan still pours W Not that I did unclench thy gall
Into the wounds of bruised hearts---altho' ing chains,
The Priestand Levite pass o'th' other side.--Nor made my gold thy freedom's talisman, Behold thy galley ! Nor that I gave thee to thy friends again.. Like a constrained bird it flaps its wings, A man who lov'd thee pot, even for his whim, As tho' it felt impatience : Or the world's praise, or to atone to beaven, Away. I will not hold thee longer---go! By doing good to one, for thousands wrong'd, The cale blows fresh, and from the top-mast Might do yet more than so-
Doth make the striped and gaudy pennant That I did break the chains within my breast
yaspoint Which held thee captive there--
Its shivering finger tow'rds the oriedi---
One word, one brief word more--twill be Do leave myself most friendless--
0, I shall tame my fierce-brow'd countrymen Farewell --remember this !
To gentleness, when that I tell them all
Thy kindness to a conquer'd enemy!---
That thou didst take from my indignant lip I never felt so deep a trouble here--
The bitter cup of bondage--No, not wben first I left my father's house
That thou didst draw me to thy bosom then--la boyhood---shuddering when the hills --- who had been an adder to thy race--above
Nor dreaded, when thy warmtb of heart had Our home became invisible, as if
thaw'd The very air breath'd strange and careless
The torpor of degraded slavery, lest I
Should but revive to sting thee! Tell me how on me ; Vay, nor when
I best may give assurance that thy love (Upon the Adriatic's lubric wave)
Is not abused--lavish'd on a cold Tliy stately gallies forced me to exchange
Aud cunning villain ? The hope of conquest for captivity--
For, tho' as well might an insolve it wretch d
Make proffer of his bond for trusted gold, For noro I part with that I hold more dear! By beaven, thy name shall glow, deep char- 1 yet would prove---and yet, I would not acter'd
prove--Upon my heart, between the burning words for thou must be as I am ere I could ! (of which the slave and captive only feel The thrilling meaning) Home and Liberty !--
VENETIAN. We shall not meet again.
The doing of kind deeds, if mine be such,
Lven like the Poets' songs, reward themVENETIAN.
selves : Not here---but what a dull unmeaning thing But if indeed thou owest aught to heavenThis life would be, and what a blank hereafler, Sure there be Christian captives in thy lane Were those we love, and those that love us, but Who curse the hour their mothers travail'd The visions of an hour! men's creeds inayjar-
for them--So chords do ou a lute, yet every chord Whose limbs are cicatriced with bloody Can pitch its proper tone to heaven, and there stripes (Forgetful if they differed on the way) That wearaway the seams of honest wounds.-Einbrace, like reconciled Friends, in harmo Plead, O plead for these ! ny-..
Mercy to one another cancels best Then we shall meet again !
Our debts to him who woulded human
0, let a buroing madness I here renounce that tenet of my creed,
Melt every dear impression kinder faces Whose churlish limitation would debar
Have sealed upon my brain, when I forget All Christians from our Paradise--
How much I owe thee! could I prove so Would we might meet hereafter!
Our holy Prophet (throned in Paradise) VENETIAN.
Had deep deep cause to turn aside and blush Aye, aye, we must!
That Christians only could be generous ! I would shrink back from the bright valves Farewell ! farewell! of heaven,
London, Aug. 1819.
EUSTACE Tho' borne by Angels thither, were mine eyes In their inquiry thro' its baze of glory
EXTRACTED FROM A MS. LETTER OF THE BARON VON LAU ERWINKEL.
Free-brae that it
og thee: 1 Nice that the
nqueridy THE manner in which you express by a higher standard than they might from all
yourself concerning the poetry of otherwise have judged it necessary to ne torby Moore, is not unlike that which I have apply. By rejecting, in behalf of their m addere met with in many of your English jour- favourite, the honours which we wil
Wala nals, and is withal sufficiently natural to lingly grant to a minor poet, they have 1 slavery, a person of your age and habits. Like compelled us to look at his productions
you I admire the lively and graceful with a severer eye, and to satisfy oura coi genius of this man ; like you I appre- selves that he is by no means a great
ciate the amiable temperament and dis- one.
positions which lend a charm to his To tell you the truth, had Mr. Moore ed for tract vet, Il verses, more touching than any thing been a Frenchman or an Italian, I am
which liveliness, grace, and genius alone sorry to say it, had he been born a bérelte could confer; but I cannot consent for a countryınan of my own--had similar
moment to class Mr.Moore with thegreat pretensions been preferred in favour of .. if mine poets of England-no more can I per- similar productions among any other
suade myself that he is likely to go down European people, -I know not that I aughten to posterity as the national poet of Ire- should have been inclined to weigh apoved land. The claim which has lately been them so scrupulously, or perhaps justi
set up for him is one of no trifling im- fied in rejecting them so decidedly, 'It ired port. It would not only assign to him is the belief of the most orthodox di
a share of the same magnificent honours vines, that the guilt of a careless Chriswbich have of right descended to Byron, tiap is greater than that of an ignorant Wordsworth, and Campbell, but min- Heathen, even although the offences of gle with his laurels another wreath such the two men may have been externally as the grateful affection of your own and apparently alike. “ Of bim to whom country has already woven for Scott much is given the more shall be requirand Burns. The friends of Mr. Moore, ed.” I must do justice to your country or the admirers of his genius, have done even although it should be at the exno service either to the poet or to his pense of your favourite. The English works by their injudicious praises and poet who fails to be held great, chiefly their extravagant demands. The only because he chooses not to be pure, falls effect of their zeal is, to make reflective a splendid sacrifice before the altar to men try the productions of their idol which he was brought an unacceptable
28' ATHEN EUM. Vol. 4.
offering. Even genius will not save not spill. The muse which he has him ; and yet the highest genius will do profaned asserts ber privilege even in much. We listen with sorrow to the her degradation. The sculptor or the pernicious sophisms, and gloomy des· painter may destroy his work, or, if it pondings, which deform and darken has parted from his hands, it may be the native majesty of Byron ; but hope veiled by its possessor ; but the impure and trust are mingled with our sorrow, poet has roused a demon which he has and we cannot suppose it would be no spell to lay. The foul spirit bas reless than blasphemy to despair of such ceived wings with its evocation, and the a spirit. In Moore the redeeming unbappy sorcerer is doomed, wherever power is less. He possesses pot, what he may go, to hear their infernal Aap, ever his nobler brother may do, the and tread on the vestiges of their blightcharm which might privilege him to ing. Year after year may pass, and pass through the fire and be unsinged. repentance may sit in the place of vice,
But the genius of a poet is estimated « Bat tears which wash out guilt can't wash out by every man according to his own pri- shame ;" vate feeling, and it may therefore be as and Mr. Moore, when he is stretched well to lay it for a moment out of the upon the bed of death, will understand question.-Since the publication of what it was that troubled, with a tenLalla Rookh, the admirers of Moore fold pang, the last agonies of Rochester. have chosen to talk as if his genius It had been well, however, if, when were of the first order, and yourself, I Mr. Moore learned to despise himself observe, are of the same way of think- for gross impurity, he had not stopped ing. On this point we are not likely half-way in his reformation. It had to agree. But however wavering may been well, that instead of lopping off he the standard of some of the late ad- the most prominent branches, he had mirers of Mr. Moore, I well know that torn up the roots also, and for ever withyou at least will have no objections to ered the juices of bis tree of evil. Did try the morality of any poet by the he imagine that the harlot would purify only standard which is un. banging and ber nature by the assumption of a veil, unerring. If you find that the elements or that his ideas would be remembered of his elegant compositions are essen- with impunity, only because his words tially and hopelessly impure, you will might be recited without a blush? His have no hesitation in agreeing with me, muse has abused the passport, which that, whatever his original genius may hypocrisy or self-ignorance procured have been, the use to which he has ap- her; and they who adopt the sentiments plied it has taken from him all right to of the bard of the Melodies and Lalla the place, or the communion, of the Rookh, although indeed they need vot great poets of England. That man be confounded with the disciples of must think lightly and erringly, who Little, must remain for ever unworiby doubts the eternal union of the high- and incapable of understanding or enest intellect with the highest virtue. I joying those pure and noble thoughts, doubt not that I shall speedily bring which form the brightest ornament of you to be of the same mind with my- their productions, with whom Mr. self, respecting the tendency of Mr. Moore would sain have himself to be Moore's performauces ; and if you do associated. The whole strain of his so, you will, in the sequel, have less music is pitched upon too low a key. difficulty in embracing my opinion con- If he never sinks into absolute pollution, cerningits inspiration also.
neither dares be for a moment rise to Of the early productions, by which the the true sublime of purity. He writes Dame of this poet was rendered notori- for women chiefly, and woman is at all ous, I shall say nothing. He himself limes his principal topic. How strange prosesses to be ashamed of them, and I that he should never have been able to doubt not the sincerity of bis ; oses- flaiter bis audience by digoifying his sions. He is, moreover, sufficiently theme! How strange, that he, who punished by their existence. The poi- seems to understand so well every mison wbich he has once mingled he can- nor, superficial, transitory charm, should