a

My heart turo'd sick, my brain grew sore, Plain, forest, river? Man nor brute,
And throbb'dawbile, then beat no more: Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot,
The skies spun like a mighty wheel; Lay in the wild luxuriant soil ;
I saw the trees like drunkards reel, No sign of travel-none of toil ;
And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes, The very air was mute ;
Which saw no farther:-

And not an insect's sbrill small horn,

Nor matin bird's new voice was borne Still his sufferings continue, and are From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, graduated to their close with extreme Panting as if his heart would burst, art by the poble writer. The descrip- The weary brute still stagger'd on; tion of the ioterminable waste over And still we were-or seem'd-alone." which Mazeppa passes is very striking. The horse at length falls exhausted

and dies, while a herd of its free com“ A boundless plain Spreads through the shadow of the night, panions visit it, and fly by instinct And onward, onward, onward, seems,

from the sight of its human load: a Like precipices in our dreams,

raven completes the destined prey, To stretch beyond the sight;

and the narrator says: And here and there a speck of white, “ I saw his wing thro' twilight fit,

Or scatter'd spot of dusky green, And once so near me he alit, In masses broke into the light,

1. could have smote, but fack'd the As rose the moon upon my right.

strength; But nought distinctly seen

But the slight motion of my hand, In the dim waste, would indicate

And feeble scratching of the sand, The omen of a cottage gate;

Th' exerted throat's faint struggling No twinkling taper from afar

noise, Stood like an hospitable star;

Which scarcely could be call'd a voice, Not even an ignis fatuus rose

Together scared him off at lengthTo make him merry with my woes: I know no more-my latest dream That very cheat had cheer'd me then!

Is something of a lovely star Although detected, welcome still,

Which fix'd my dull eyes from afar, Reminding me, through every ill, And went and came with wandering Of the abodes of men.

beam, Onward we went-but slack and slow

And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense His savage force at length o'erspent, Sensation of recurring sense, The drooping courser, faint and low,

And then subsiding back to death, All feebly foaming went.

And then again a little breath, A sickly infant bad had power

A little thrill, a short suspense, To guide him forward in that hour;

An icy sickness curdling o'er [brainBut useless all to me.

My heart, and sparks that cross'd my His new-born tameness nought avail'd,

A gasp, a throb, a start of pain, My limbs were bound'; my force had

A sigh, and nothing more. failid,

I woke-Where was 1?-Do I see Perchance, had they been free.

A human face look down on me? With feeble effort still I tried

And doth a roof above me close ? To rend the bonds so starkly tied- Do these limbs on a couch repose ? But still it was in vain;

Is this a chamber where I lie ? My limbs were only wrung the more, And is it mortal 'yon bright eye, And soon the idle strife gave o'er, That watches me witb-gentle glance ? Which but prolong'd their pain ;

I clos'd my own again once more,
The dizzy race seem'd almost done, As doubtful that the former trance
Although no goal was nearly won :

Could not as yet be o'er.
Sume streaks announced the coming A slender girl, long-haired, and tall,

Sate watching by the cottage wall:
How slow, alas! he came!

The sparkle of her eye I caught, Methought that mist of dawning gray, Even with my first return of thought ; Would never dapple into day ;

For ever and anon she threw How heavily it rolld away

A praying, pitying glance on me Before the eastern Mame

With her black eyes so wild and free; Rose crimson and deposed the stars,

I gazed, and gazed, until I knew
And callid the radiance from their cars, No vision it could be."
And fill'd the earth from his deep throne,
With lonely lustre all his own.

Numerous are the inages, in the Up rose the sun ; the mists were curl'd course of the passages above quoted, Back from the solitary world

whicb must strike every person of Which lay around-behind-before: taste with admiration; and to wbich What booted it to traverse o'er

it would therefore be impertinent to

sun

重

an

1819.]
Review of New Publications.

45 direct the Reader's attention. At the respected the. Author, and duly apsame time, we may be allowed to add preciated his writings. In a neat Deour suffrage, in one or two instances, dication to the Duchess of Rutland, to the general approbation. Thus, Mr. Crabbe says, we doubt pot, that the most rigid critic must be struck with the pure placed in that elevated situation to

“ It is the privilege of those who are and simple expression, which in so

which your Grace is an ornament, that few words paints the sun rise, and its they give honour to the person upon natural effect in rendering the stars whom they confer a favour. When I iovisible.

dedicate to your Grace the fruits of “ The Eastern flame many years, and speak of my debt to Rose crimson, and deposed the stars."

the House of Rutland, I feel that I am

not without pride in the confession, nor Here is an implied personification, con veying

insensible to the honour which such graidea of majesty,

titude implies. Forty years have elapsed at least equal to the idea of beauty

since this debt commenced. On my enconveyed in Ben Jonson's direct per

trance into the cares of life, and while sonification of morning

contending with its difficulties, a Duke “ Who now is rising from her blushing and Duchess of Rutland observed and wars,

[stars.” protected me in my progress a Duke And with her rosy band, puts back the and Duchess of Rutland favoured and Nor is there less of poetical tact

assisted memand, when I am retiring in “ the lonely lustre” of the Sun af. from the world, a Duke and Duchess of ter it had risen ; or in “ the solitary Rutland receive my thanks, and accept

my offering. All, even in this world of world,” which lay arouod, behind, and

mutability, is not change: I have expebefore the hopeless traveller; for to

rienced unvaried favour I have felt bim, at the moment, the boundless undiminished respect. desert was a world of loneliness, and “ With the most grateful rememthe sun, instead of calling the living brance of what I owe, and the most sincreation to labour or enjoyment, cere conviction of the little I can return, must have seemed to shine in idle and

I present these pages to your Grace's useless splendour. This identification acceptance.” of the Poet's feelings, with those of

From a Preface which will be the imaginary being whom he de perused with pleasure and satisfacscribes, is one great

source, perhaps tion, an extract must also be taken. the greatest, of Lord Byron's popu. After noticing the usual apologies for larity. It is a decisive mark of ge

an Author's appearance in print, Mr. pius; and when we contemplate such Crabbe observes, proofs of it, as he has here given, and

“I am neither so young nor so old, reflect on some other applications of his talents, we cannot restrain the ex

so much engaged by one pursuit, or by

many,- I am not so urged by want, or clamation, O si sic omniu!

so stimulated by a desire of public beneBut the pamphlet coolains, in ad

tit,--that I can borrow one apology from dition, an Ode to Venice, in the usual

the many which I have named.” deploring straiu for the loss of “Li.

“ If there be any combination of cirberty by Despots,” of a State the most tyrannical of_all Oligarchies, affect the mind of a reader, and in some

cumstances which may be supposed to and broken up by a Republican army, degree to influence his judgment, the uoder the model of Republicans, junction of youth, beauty, and merit in Buonaparle. A brief prose narrative

a female writer may be allowed to do fioishes the Work.

this; and yet one of the most forbid.

ding of titles is . Poems by a very young 3. Tales of the Hall. By the Rev. Geo. Lady,' and this although beauty and

Crabbe, LL.B. In two Vols. 8vo. pp. merit were largely insinuated. " Ladies, 326, 353. Murray:

it is true, have of late little need of any IT would be upjust to this admi.

indulgence as authors, and names may rable delineator of the human mind, readily be found which rather excite if, before we enter into the merits of

the envy of man than plead for his lenity.

Our estimation of Title also in a writer bis Poetry, we were to neglect the

has materially varied from that of our grateful feelings which dictated the

predecessors ; Poems by a Nobleman' following sentiments in prose. For

would create a very different sensation more than the “ forty years” therein in our minds from that which was fornoticed, the writer of this article has merly excited when they were so an

6

nounced. A noble author had then no memory' to recal in absence those conpretensions to a seat so secure on the versations; and if I do not in direct • sacred hill,' that authors not noble, terins mention with whom I conversed, and critics not gentle, dared not at

it is both because 1 have no permission, tack; and they delighted to take re- and my readers will have no doubt.” venge by their contempt and derision of “ I have one observation more to of. the poet, for the pain which their sub- fer. It may appear to some that a. Mimission and respect to the man had nister of Religion, in the decline of life, cost tbem. But in our times we find should have no leisure for such amusethat a nobleman writes, not merely as ments as these; and for them I have no well, but better than other men; inso- reply ;-but to those who are more inmuch that readers in general begin to dulgent to the propensities, the studies, fancy that the Muses have relinquished and the babits of mankind, I offer some their old partiality for rags and a gar- apology when I produce these volumes, ret, and are become altogether aristo- not as the occupations of my life, but cratical in their choice. A conceit so the fruits of my leisure, the employwell supported by fact would be readily ment of that time which, if not given to admitted, did it not appear at the same them had passed in the vacuity of unretime, that there were in the higher ranks corded idleness; or had been lost in the of society, men who could write as indulgence of unregistered thoughts and tamely, or as absurdly, as they had ever fancies, that melt away in the instant been accused of doing. We may, there, they are conceived, and leave not a fore, regard the works of any noble au- wreck behind.'" tbor as extraordinary productions; but must not found any theory upon them; Readers from a specimen of the fasci

If we have thus long detained our and, notwithstanding their appearance, must look un genius and talent as we

nating “ Tales of the Hall,” we doubt are wont to do on time and chance, not of receiving pardon, after having that happen indifferently to all mankind. presented to them such manly, such

“ But whatever influence any pecu- ingenuous Prose. Jiar situation of a writer might have, it Ever since“ The Canterbury Tales" cannot be a benefit to me, who have no of Chaucer, poets who have dealt such peculiarity. I must rely upon the much in narrative have generally willingness of my readers to be pleased been anxious to string together their with that which was designed to give

tales by some connecting chain, howthem pleasure, and upon the cordiality

ever slight. “ The Tales of the Hall" which naturally springs from a remem.

are in this respect quite dramatic. brance of our having before parted with

The Hall is the residence of George, out any feeling of disgust on the one

the elder of two brothers, or rather side, or of mortification on the other. “ With this hope I would conclude

half brothers, who has been more forthe present subject; but, I am called

tunate than Richard in his pecuniary upon by duty to acknowledge my obli- affairs, though less so in his domestic gations, and more especially for two of

connexions. The circumstances which the following Tales : - the Story of have separated the brethren through Lady Barbara, in Book XVI. and that the greater portion of their respecof Ellen in Book XVIII. The first of tive lives, are told with great simthese I owe to the kindness of a fair plicity and ease, as are the invitation friend, who will, I bope, accept the and journey of the younger to the thanks which I very gratefully pay, and I

Hall, their meeting and the gradual pardon me if I have not given to her re

recurrence of fraternal feelings to the lation the advantages which she had

busom of each. Each is naturally so much reason to expect. The other

led to recite his own adventures : aud story, that of Ellen, could I give it in the language of him who related it to

Richard, who has been a sailor, thus me, would please and affect my readers. powerfully describes an incident couIt is by no means my only debt, though

nected with the too common dangers the one I now more particularly acknow- of his profession : ledge ; for wbo shall describe all that “ Impatient then, and sick of very he gains in the social, the unrestrained,

ease,

[breeze. and the frequent conversations with a Loudly we whistled for the slumb'ring friend, who is at once communicative One eve it came, and, frantic in my joy, and judicious ? --whose opinions, on all I rose and danced, as idle as a boy ; subjects of a literary kind, are founded en The cabin lights were down, that we good taste, and exquisite feeling? It is might learn one of the greatest pleasures of my A trilling something from the ship astern;

The

1819.)
Review of New Publications. ·

47 The-stiffening gale bore up the growing mixt"-are transferred, as it were, wave,

from the narrator's mind to our owa, And wilder motion to my madness gave; Op a first review the tale seems markOft have I since, when thoughtful and at

ed by an unnecessary degree of mi. rest,

[mind possess'd, nute circumstantiality, the sailor apBeliev'd some maddening power my pears lost in the Author, and we think For, in an instant, as the stern sank low, [madness know ?)

we behold an artist delineating, with

slow and laborious pencil, the scene, (How mov'd I knew not — what can Chance that direction to my madness

which, in reality, must have been too

confused and terrific to admit of disgave,

[ing wave; And plunged me headlong in the roar

crimination. But a third reading Swift few the parting ship, the fainter (and such a passage well deserves to light

[sight. be read thrice) will satisfy us that as Withdrew, or horror took them from my the narrative of an individual whose All was confus'd above, beneath, around, character seems to have undergone a All sounds of terror, no distinguish'd purifying change from this awful pesound

ril, it is given with a precise and acCould reach me, now on sweeping surges curate attention to the truth of natost,

ture. It must be remembered that And then between the rising billows lost;

this is not the account which the An undefin'd sensation stopt my breath, Disorder'd views, and threat'ning signs

sailor may be supposed to have given

at the moment of his preservation, of death

when his whole faculties would have Met in one moment, and a terror gave, I cannot paint it, to the moving grave.

been overpowered by the confusion My thoughts were all distressing, hur- into which they had been so lately ried, mix'd,

[fix'd : thrown; but it is a history delivered On all things fixing, not a moment many years after the event, by one Vague thoughts of instant danger brought who has been habituated to dwell their pain,

upon it with the deepest interest, to New hopes of safety banish'd them again. disentangle its complication of cirThen the swoln billow all those hopes

cumstances, and to labour to place it destroy'd,

before the mind of his bearers with And left me sinking in the mighty void. all the force and effect of truth. Weaker I grew, and grew the more dis

may'd, Of aid all hopeless, yet in search of aid, 4. An Essay, on the Evidence from Struggling awbile upon the wave to keep,

Scripture, that the Soul, immediately Then languid, sinking in the yawning after the Death of the Body, is not in a deep,

state of Sleep or Insensibility, but of So tost, so lost, so sinking in despair, Happiness or Misery; and on the MoI pray'd in heart an indirected prayer, ral Uses of that Doctrine. This-(their And then once more I gave my eyes to Prize-Essay of 1818)-is printed at the view

[adieu- request of the Church Union Society. The ship now lost, and bade the light By the Rev. R. Polwhele, Vicar of From my chill'd frame the enfeebled Manaccan and St. Anthony, and Cuspirit fled,

[ing bed, rate of Kenwyn and Kea. 8vo. pp. Rose the tall billows round my deepen. 59. Nichols and Son. Cold seiz'd my heart, thought ceas'd, and I was dead.

THIS is indeed an important Essay, But the escape-whate'er they judg'd and merits a deliberate perusal, as might save

[wave, it discusses, in a masterly manner, Their sinking friend they cast upon the “ one of the most interesting subjects Sometbing of those my heaven-directed

that can engage the mind of man, to

[charm, collect the rays of light that gleam, Unconscious seiz'd, and held as by a in a manner, through the Scriptures, The crew astern beheld me as I swam,

and to bring them tv one point of ' And I am sav’d, O let me say I am.''

illumination." Perhaps no passage in his Volumes could be a more sufficient specimen which must be hereafter,' is not for hu

“ To lay open, indeed, the things of Mr. Crabbe's higher poetry. The

man imbecility. But, if, in our access reader involuntarily labours with the

to the gates of eternity, we have not “ undefined sensation" of the strug; presumptuously overstepped the limits gling sufferer, and althe first perusal which the Scriptures of Truth have set the thoughts---- distressing, hurried, to rational investigation, we need not,

perhaps,

arm,

perhaps, lament our labours as imperti- as under the eye of an omniscient God, nent or fruitless. The texts in question, and who have comfort and joy in the though scattered through the Bible, may belief, that they live in the light of yet be gleaned with profitable industry ; His countenance'-if once they relinthe passages, though sometimes obscure quish the idea of the Almighty Presence, or ambiguous, may yet admit of useful as sustaining and enlivening the Soul, illustration. · And, from a familiar ac- whether in the body or out of the quaintance with subjects in which our body,' through every stage of its exist. eternal welfare is involved, we may ence--if they begin to harbour the mecontemplate results the most salutary lancholy thought of its necessary coand beneficial.-I am sufficiently aware, existence with the corporeal frame-as that my construction of several texts the one decays, the otber languishing, may to some appear forced or fanciful. as the one dies, the other insensible ; The supposition (which it was my is it possible, if they extend their meditask to controvert and disprove) that tations to the body mouldering away, till the soul, immediately after death, is in every particle be disunited and dispersed a state of insensibility, has been en- -is it possible to preclude from their tertained by theological writers whose apprehension the image of the Soul ingenuity we admire, and whose piety we evaporated-extinguished ?-If they yet have no right to question.-But, in my make an effort to carry their view thus mind, it is a theory so contrary to the very broken to the day of Judgment;-will they nature and attributes of the Soul, that, not shudder at the dreary void immeindependent on Sacred Writ, the meta- diately in prospect, with scarcely a gleam physician would scruple to adopt it; of light breaking in from beyond it? since even in sleep, when the organs of and can such a feeling of inanity consense are shut up-when the body lies sist with active Piety and Hope and Requiescent as in death, he sees the Soul signation ?-But if the Religious man be still vigorous and alert, clear in its re- convinced, that as soon as the pangs of collections, and rapid in its imagin- death are passed, he shall go thither, ings. And, in my apprehension, it is a where, secure from sin and sorrow, he theory so adverse to the whole tenour shall rejoice in the answer of a good of the word of God, that I wonder much conscience'-where, no longer embarmore of its fabrication when I consider rassed by cares, or allured by vanities, where it originated, than at the ready he sball enjoy perpetual serenity, and reception it has met with in the Chris- look to the Eternal Godhead more and tian world; since it must lend a sanction more revealed to his contemplation, and to scepticism, and (I had almost said) a live in the expectation of his ultimate sort of shelter to sin."

reward-when the Soul shall reanimate The following observation, which

the body, and the wbole man shall par

take of the felicities of Heaven ;-these, occurs in a note, is very curious:

doubtless, are reflections, that must ope“ The modern Theory of the Mate

rate most powerfully on the moral charialists has been entirely overturned by

racter-meditations calculated to correasonings from facts—from experience. See Memoirs of Lit, and Phil. Society

rect our follies, to purify the heart from

sin, to strengthen our weakness, and of Manchester - Vol. IV. for a valuable

to subdue our passions; to repress the Paper of Dr. Ferriar, proving by evi

triumphs of fancy amidst all the affludence apparently complete and indisput

ence of worldly pleasures, and in ad. able, that every part of the Brain has

versity to dispel the gloom of despond. been injured without affecting the act of

ence-to shed a lustre over life, and Thought.”

even to smooth the pillow of death. The learned Divipe lhus concludes

• Though, therefore, our outward man a truly-excellent Essay:

perish; yet the inward man shall be “ If he that is guilty in life, be guilty renewed day by day.' And though the in death, if he retain, without one world passeth away, and the lusts therepause of intermission, the feeling of his of;' nevertheless we, according to the offences,-if he that is unjust, be un- promise of God, look for new Heavens just still,' and be that is filthy, filthy and a new earth, wherein dwelleth still,'—the hour of his dissolution will righteousness.' be fearful at distance prospect, full of terror. And the dread

5. The Works of Charles Lamb. In of falling immediately into the hands of

two Volumes. 8vo. Ollier. the living God, will damp the secret projects of the sinner, and check, in HAVING perused various little Their bolder career, the workers of ini. sketches by Nr. Lamb, published in quity.'- In the mean time, they who act different Miscellanies, with pleasure,

and

on a nearer

2