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With my own heart, have ta'en from solitude
Its natural calm, while in the intercourse
Of daily life, and by the household hearth,
The silence of the unapproving eye
Falls on my heart; censure and disbelief,
And pitying smiles, and prophecies of ill
From friendly lips, like ever dropping dews,
Chilling the inward spirit of resolve,

Weigh me to earth.

Come, therefore! like the Moon,

When she, with white and silent steps, doth climb O'er the vext sea; shine on me once again, Serene remembrance!

They go, and I remain. Their steps are free
To tread the halls and groves, in thought alone
To me accessible, my home erewhile

Heart-loved, and in their summer quiet still
As beautiful, as when of old, returned
From London's never-ebbing multitude
And everlasting cataract of sound,

Midst the broad silent courts of Trinity

I stood and paused; so strange, and strangely sweet The night-like stillness of that noontide scene

Sank on my startled ear.

Those days are past; And like a homeless school-boy left behind, When all his mates are free to sport their fill, Through the long midsummer, I sit and strive To cheat my hope-sick heart with memory.

'Tis utter night; over all Nature's works
Silence and rest are spread; yet still the tramp
Of busy feet, the roll of wheels, the hum
Of passing tongues - one endless din confused
Of sounds that have no meaning for the heart,
Marring the beauty of the tranquil hour,
Press on my sleepless ear. Sole genial voice,
The restless flame that flickers on the hearth,
Heard indistinctly through the tumult, soothes
My soul with its companionable sound,
And tales of other days.
Thither I turn

My weary sense for refuge; as a child
In a strange home, with unaccustomed sights
Perplexed, and unknown voices, if it spy
Some well-remembered face, with eager joy
Flies to the sure protection, and clings close
Round the beloved knees.

Except some translations, of which one from the Persæ of Eschylus, describing the morning of Salamis, and three of the three finest fragments of Ennius, may be recommended, there is hardly any thing that is not of this sad personal kind :

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Ah, woe is me, that I am forced to wrong
With my vain griefs and moans importunate
The beauty of fair silence! all too long
Has this sad strife endured, this wild debate
"Twixt feeble will and adamantine fate :
When will it end? what new and vital power
Forth walking midst the spirit's desolate
And ruined places, there shall plant the flower

Of hope and natural joy, and build for peace a bower.

Vagitus et ingens, Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo. Amongst these it is not well to linger long. The flowers of hope and natural joy and simple feeling, the reader will find growing abundantly in the pages of William Allingham, a young Irish poet, whose vein of poetic thought and pure felicitous diction has won him the praise of good judges in England. We have already, we believe, overstepped the limits which can be allowed to the levities of verse; otherwise we would gladly quote from his charming tale of "The Music Master." The volume, however, is already not unknown in America. It would have been better, certainly, for more perfect elaboration of several of the minor pieces, and perhaps for the entire omission of a considerable number.

The "Serenade" begins well,

Oh! hearing sleep, and sleeping hear,
The while we dare to call thee dear,

So may thy dreams be good, although

The loving power thou canst not know ;

but it is not sustained. We will quote the following description.

By the shore a plot of ground

Clips a ruined chapel round
Buttressed with a grassy mound;

Where day and night and day go by,
And bring no touch of human sound.

Washing of the lonely seas,
Shaking of the guardian trees,
Piping of the salted breeze,
Day and night and day go by
To the endless tune of these.

Or when, as winds and waters keep
A hush more dead than any sleep,
Still morns to stiller evenings creep,
And day and night and day go by,
Here the silence is most deep.

The chapel-ruins lapsed again
Into nature's wide domain,
Sow themselves with seed and grain,
As day and night and day go by,
And hoard June's sun and April's rain.

Here fresh funeral tears were shed,
And now, the graves themselves are dead,
And suckers from the ash-tree spread,
While day and night and day go by,
And stars move calmly overhead.

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ART. II. Political Philosophy. By HENRY, LORD BROUGHAM, F. R. S. Published under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. London. 1846. 3 vols. 8vo.

THE Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge was intended to effect a revolution in the moral and social condition of Great Britain. It was composed of men of spirit and ability, and we believe they might claim the originality, or at least the original application, of the idea that knowledge, if rendered easy, attractive, and general, would prove a panacea for the evils of society. That they have not succeeded entirely according to their expectations, is owing to a difficulty which they did not take sufficiently into account, but which has troubled others in the execution of the same project, and was never more pithily stated than in a criticism of their proceedings. When, in the commencement of this enterprise, with all its glories thick upon it, Lord Brougham expressed a belief that, through the agency of this Society, the day would come when every peasant in England would read and enjoy Bacon,Cobbett replied, that the time must first come when every peasant could eat bacon, and that it would be well if his Lordship should set himself toward bringing it about. Though we admit the correctness of the criticism, there are few to whom the application of it would not be more pertinent than to Lord Brougham; the good time would be far nearer, if each one of us were half as ardent and faithful a laborer in one sphere of action as he has been in many.

As political science is not only one of the most important and serviceable branches of knowledge, but also one which those who get an opportunity have always shown the greatest alacrity in dispensing, it was clearly within the Society's province to provide for its diffusion, and Lord Brougham was naturally selected to prepare the means. Of course, he was ready. The work before us is in three large volumes, and claims not only to be "the only work now in existence, in which the principles of government are systematically expounded," but also "to comprehend a full account of all the

constitutions in ancient and modern times." We are also told that "the discussion is kept quite free from all party and all national bias." These are bold words to be spoken of a book which bears on its face the evidence that the only part of it which possesses any vitality, that which treats of the modern, mixed and democratic governments, was written by an Englishman and a Whig, and could have been written by nobody else, not to say, only by Lord Brougham. The general correctness and faithfulness of the historical portion are beyond question; and we would particularly commend the practical and business-like character of the account of the Roman constitution, which is made to appear like a system that might really go into operation at the present time, and is evidently the work of an experienced statesman.

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But to be truthful and correct in regard to the structure of the Roman or Athenian commonwealth, although extremely desirable, is no surprising merit, when the means of information exist, together with the ability to use them; because, in this case, there is little temptation to be otherwise. Exactness is purchased by indifference. On the other hand, for a partisan and an actor in questions yet undecided, instantly and at will to stop the current of fifty years' feeling, and out of an eager combatant to make himself at once an impartial observer, is an undertaking so difficult that it may as well be set down as impossible. In that part of the work which relates to English affairs there are, certainly, no remarkable signs of its accomplishment. A green and vigorous old age has not yet so cooled the fire of Lord Brougham's blood; and we are not desirous that it should. We do not know that anybody would be the gainer by the change, and we are sure that something would be lost which is well worth the having. For the rest, as the work goes over all the ground, from the earliest history to the latest births of time, and from Eastern despotisms to Western republics, it certainly contains the result of a vast amount of reading and reflection, and many wholesome truths and materials valuable for reference. But they are, in general, too vague to satisfy a genuine spirit of inquiry, for which the minutia and practical workings of political systems are indispensable aids to their comprehension.

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