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so large a proportion of intellect as the any rude nation been civilized without wine-drioking nations; they may edu- the introduction of intoxicating liquors. cate better lovers, but not greater wits. Let us avoid drunkenness; but it is The Augustan age of every country has not proved, that we ought wholly to preceded that refinemeni of manners avoid strong drinks. which exacts temperance.

Nor has


From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.

ON CARMEL'S BROW. A Hebrew Melody, by the Ettrick Shepherd.


ON vine

“Blest be the Herald of our King,

That comes to set as free !
The dwellers of the rock shall sing,

And ulter praise to thee !
Tahor and Hermon yet shall see

Their glories glow again, And blossoms spring on field and tree, That ever shall remaio.

8. “ The happy child in dragon's way

Shall frolic with delight;
The lamb shall round the leopard play,

And all in love unite ;
The dove on Zion's hill shall light,

That all the world must see.
Hail to the Journeyer, in his mighty

That comes to set us free !"

From the New Month ly Magazine.



Had all its honours shed, And o'er the vales of Palestine

A sickly palepess spread ;
When the old Seer, by vision led,

And energy sublime,
Into that shadowy region sped,
To muse on distant time.

He saw the valleys far and wide,

But sight of joy was none ;
He looked o'er many a mountain's side,

But silence reigned alone;
Save that a boding voice sung on

By wave and waterfall,
As siili, in barsh and heavy tone,
Deep unto deep did call.

On Kison's strand and Ephratah

The hamlets thick did lie ;
No wayfarer between he saw,

No Åsherite passed by :
No maiden at her task did ply,

Nor sportive child was seen ;
The lonely dog barked wearily
Where dwellers once bad been.

Oh! beauteous were the palaces

On Jordan wont to be,
And still they glimmered to the breeze,

Like stars beneath the sea !
But valtures held their jubilee

Where harp and cymbal rung ;
And there, as if in mockery,
Tae baleful satyr sung.

But who had seen that Prophet's eye,

On Carmel that reclined!
It looked not on the times gone by,

But those that were behind :
His gray hair streamed upon the wind,

His hands were raised on high,
As, mirror'd, on his mystic mind
Arose futurity.

6. He saw the feast in Bozrah spread,

Prepared in ancient day ; Eastward, away the eagle sped,

And all the birds of prey: "Who's this,” he cried, “ comes by the way

Of Elon, all divine,
Travelling in splendour, whose array

Is red, but not with wine ?


Tho'gathered from the cypress-tree The rose's bud would grace th y bloom, More sweet the lily shed perfume, The myrtle on thy breast or brow, Would lively hope and love avow : The heath-hower with its azure bell, Thy modest worth and virtues tell, But ill such emblems were desigu'd To mark devotedness of mind; Then, lady! wear this wreath for me, Though gathered from the cypress-tree. The roses, though in beauty boro, Are circled by the searching thorn, Their fragrant leaves, ere summer's gone, On earth fall fadel, one by one ; And suns and tempests may bereave The lily of its sweets ere eve : The heati-bell and the myrtle-flower Will wither in nood's sultry hour : Alone in sunshine, storm, and snows, Unchangeable the cypress grows: Then, lady! wear this wreath for me, Fresh gathered from the cypress-tree. O'er ruin'd shrines and silent tombs, The weeping cypress spreads its glooms, In immortality of woe, Whilst other shrubs in gladness blow : And fling upon the passing wind Their liberal treasures unconfin'd. And well its dark and drooping leaf, May image forth the gloom and grief : Which, when we parted, gave reply, From beaving heart and dewy eye ;



VOL. 61]
Original Poetry

127 Then, lady,wear this wreath for me,

LINES, Pluckd from the faithful cypress-tree.

From the German of the late Prince Louis of Unchallenged let the warrior:wear,

The laurel in his gory hair ;

THE soul that inwardly is feds
Deceit the monks-bood, pity dear.
The primrose, wet with morning's tear;

On aspirations pure and high,
On pride's emblazoned forehead tower

On wishes, that in breathing die, The tulip or the poppy-flower ;,

Like morning webs of gossamere, Timidity, of allafraid,

The mysterious bours that cheer, Her wreath of the mimosa braid ;

But when the day shines disappear--But ill their garlands-would become

The soul, that in its serious mood Fair friendship, in his martyrdom

O'er melancholy dreams doth brood; Of joy---then, lady! wear for me.

And nourisheth the lonely eye The droopings of the cypress-tree.

With wells of uptold misery--..

The soul that, were it open laid, Time was, that in the mutual flow,

Would make the boldest heart afraid Of bliss, our spirits learned to glow;

To think that woes so dark can rest When all too soon the golden day,

Within a human brother's breast... In eve's oblivion died away;

O how can sucb a spirit be When morning but more closely drew,

Concealed beneath a mask of glee? Our ties of love and feeling too:

A soul so stately, sad, aud pure,
And time perchance sball blend again,

How can it such a mien endure,
Our tide of pleasure or of pain.
Till then--for like the cypress-leaf,

Light, careless, airy, and secure ?
In absence, peril, joy, and grief,

Alas! go ask why flowers unfold Affection blooms eternally,

Their glories o'er the grave's black mould.

Go ask, why the dark sea reflects Wear, lady! wear this wreath for me.

The sky's bright beams and purple specks. J. H. WIFPEN,

Go ask, why man received so strange a birth,

So near to heaven, and yet so bound to earth. To the Editor of the Literary Gazette.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF AN If any of your correspondents will informasi

IDIOT GIRL... me in what manner the unfortunate Charles Eduard first sought the protection of the hero

(By a Lady.) ic Flora Mac

WHO, helpless, hopeless being, who written by some person attached to the young Or who from mute Obligion's power Chevalier. I should like to know if they were Thy disregarded name shall save. written by any one well acquainted with the Honour, and wealth, and learning's store, sircumstances of his escapes

The votive urn remembers long,

And e'en the annals of the poor

Live in the bard's immortal song,
VHA is the sleeping youth that lies But a blank stope best stories thee,

Within my greenwood bower? Whom wealth, nor sense, nor fame could find; The clusters o' bis yellow hairs

Poarer than ought beside we see
A'dripping wil the shower.

A humav form without a mind.
Oh by his bonnet's faded plume,

A casket gemless l yet for thee: *
His plaidie, rudely torn,

Pity shall grave a simple tale,
He seems some weary travellers

And reason shall a moral see,
Deserted an' forlorn.

And fancy paint for our avail.
But gaze upon that open brown

Yes, it shall paint thy hapless form,
That graceful form survey,

Clad decent in its russet weed;
Those looks, though gentle, do not seem Happy in aimless wanderings long,
Accustomed to obey.

And pleas'd thy father's flock to feed. And see the wind has blown aside With vacant, artless-smile thou borsts The sleeper's tattered vest;

Patient, the scoffer's cruel jest ;
And is not that a royal star.

With viewless gaze could pass it o'er,
Which glitters on his breast?

And turn it pointless from thy breasta
Yes, my beloved, forsaken Prince Thougb language was forbid to trace
On female aid relies ;

The unform'd chaos of thy mind,
Can death young Flora's courage daunt? And thy, rude sound no ear could guess,
No; for her king she dies !

But through parental instinct kind,
Sleep on, my Prince, securely sleep, Yet unto ev'ry buman form
Let every doubt depart,

Clings imitation, mystic pow'r !
T'he for that would thy slumbers break, And thou wert food, and proud to OWR

Must pierce my faithfu' heart. The school-time's, regulated hour.

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And o'er the mutilated page,

For what a burst of mind shall be, Mutter the mimic lesson's tone ;

When, disencumber'd from this clod, And ere the school-boy's task was said, Thou, who on earth could'st nothing see, Brought ever, and anon thine own ;

Shalt rise to comprehend thy God. And many a truant boy would seek,

Ob! could thy spirit teach us now, And drag reluctant to his place ;

Full many a truth the gay might learn; And oft the master's solemn rule

The value of a blameless life, Would mock with grave and apt grimace.

Full many a singer inight discern.

Yes, they might learn who waste their time, And every guileless heart would love What it must be to know AO SIO ; A nature so estrang'd from wrong,

They who pollute the soul's sweet prime, And every infant would protect

What t be spotless pure within. Thee from the trav’ller's passing tongue.

Whoe'er thou art, go seek her grave, Thy primal joy was still to be

All ye who sport in folly's ray;
Where holy congregations bow ;

And as the gale the grass shall wave,
Wrapt in wild transport when they sung, List to a voice that seems to say--
And when they pray'd, would beod tbee low. “ 'Tis not the measure of thy powers
Oh, Nature, wheresoe'er thou art,

To which the Eternal Meed is given ;
Some latent worship still is there;

'Tis wasted or improved beurs Blush, ye whose form, without a heart,

That forfeit or secure triy Heaven.”
The Idiot's plea can never share.
Poor guiltless thing! These eighteen years

Parental cares had rear'd alone ;

TUMMER may spread choicest flow'rs, Heav'u took thee spotless to its own. And smiling skies, and pleasa at bowers,

With the gay song of birds resound;
For many a watching eye of love

Yet will not these a charm impart,
Tby sickness and thy death did cheer; If peace is banished from the heart.
Though reason weeps not, she allows
The instinct of a parent's tear.

Winter may bid his tempests rise,

And change the earth's fair robe of green, Poor guileless thing ! forgot by man, And leatless bowers, and frowning skies, The hillock's all remains of thee ;

Afford a sad and dreary scene; To merely mo tal man it may,

Yet will the heart bright verdure wear, But Faith another sight can see.

If peace have fixed its dwelling there.


TN every age there has been shewn a dis- nermost recesses of the buman heart; is pe

position to depreciate the merits of con- culiarly successful in delineating the tender temporary authors, and to overrate tnose of affections; in pathos, deep pathos, and in preceding times. We disclaim any such an- every shade of insanity,---from the slightest worthy feelings, and gladly avail ourselves alienation of mind to the most appalling frenof any opportunity of adding our mite of zy,--he is without any rival. Mr. Crabbe praise to our illustrious contemporaries. No (like his illustrious counterpart in genius, the period was ever more fertile in genius and author of Waverley, &c.) has been accused talent, or the arts and sciences so surcessfully of too great a predilection for exhibiting cultivated. Among our numerous living characters in low life ; but let it be consid poets, we have many who may dispute the ered, that it is not in the drawing-rooms of palm of excellence with any of their prede- the great among the artificial, well-trained cessors (Shakspeare and Milton always ex- sons and daughters of fashion, that human cepted). We must not, however, coucinue passions, and the genuine impulses of the this digression, but hasten to the subject in heart, are best displayed; but among the unview,---the last publication of Mr. CRABBE, sophisticated children of Nature in the humthe inimitable poet of truth and nature, who bler walk of life. These poluines are not mingles together all the qualities of the phi- perhaps, on the whole, equal to some of the losopher, the moralist, the poet, and the di- author's former works, yet possess the same vion; whose peculiar object seems to be the characteristic style of excellence, and conveying of instruction through the medium abound with passages that come home to of amusement ; who reaches the heart with men's bosom and busines," passages that out an effort; at once securing our sympathy “swell the heart and dim the eye." We have and affections. This author possesses the not room for quotations, but refer the reader rare talent of rendering the most common-' to the account of the Patronized Boy, in the place subject highly interesting; and, tho' first volume; the tale of the Sisters; "..“ the he sometimas paints with the elaborate mi- Old Bachelor;" “ the Maid's Story," &c. nuteness of a Dutch artist, yet his narratives We regret that, ai dit so much excellence, are not tedious, and would lose much of their prosaic lines, incorrect rhymes, an obscurity interest were be less circumstantial. We are in the meaning, and other blemishes and placed in the very midst of the scenes he de- marks of carelessness, occasionally appear ; scribes, and .vmpathize in all the feelings of and must confess, that some of the tales in the his personages. He possesses a thorough first volume possess but little interest. lowledge of human nature, and of the in

Monthly Mag

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From the European Magazine, July 1819. SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON IN Our modern Sir Christopher meditated LONDON.

on these annals with such extraordinary

zeal and research, that his mind began TWHERE is in Northamptonshire a THER

to bewilder itself among its own gleanvery ancient mansion, whose square courts, little towers, and arched ings. He talked of nothing but persquare courts, little towers, and arched fumed gloves, peaked ruffy, and galliardcloisters, once announced the architecture of Queen Elizabeth's days; and den death left him in possession of a

dáncing ; and wheo bis old aunt's sudits gardens, decorated with labyrintbs fortune immensely beyond bis expectaand small mounts, with walks writhing tigns, the torrent of joy mixing with the round them like the turnings of a cockle shell, equally reminded antiqua- ridiculous ferment. He informed the

stagnant pool of learning caused a most rians of Theobald's. Therein lived an executors of the deceased lady, with aged lady, whose life had been so long

great injunctions to secrecy, that he had sprotracted that her heirs were apt to say, discovered an iniquitous and extensive a3 King James often said of Elizabeib -" that he should never come to his

in the reigning government. stratagem

Gentlemen,” said he, “ I am, as you inheritance as long as there was an old know, the real and identical Sir Chrissife in England, for be verily believed

topher Hatton mentioned in all these when one died, another was set up


volumes, and my most royal mistress, her place.”. Being a frugal and pru- like myself, is only disguised. Her dent man, he chose to live with his venerable aunt, and amused himself with

successor, or, to speak more fitly, the the ancient books that filled her library. bis name, and written all these extrava

usurper James of Scotland, has changed They related chiefly to the reign of his family's patroness, the maiden queen; iwo hundred years have passed since

gant legends to persuade me that above and during twelve years his daily walk the fit of lethargy which seized me five was from the dial to the buttery court,

or six months ago I have taken a and from thence to the fountain, with a

eso volume of Stowe, Camden, or Sidney, her bighness always kept secretly in her

this cross, which is the same in his hand. Above all, he studied the closet, that I will never open a book anuals of Sir Christopher Hatton, chief again as long as I live."--The gentledancer and Lord Chancellor of Queen,

man to whom he addressed this strange Elizabethi, and founder of his family. speech was a physician and a man of By the Author of Legends of Lampidosa, &e.

bomoar. He had observed and ascerRATHENEUM VOL. 6.


tained the progress of his friend's dis- ney-corner, and whispered in his ear, temper, and replied very gravely, “ My “You have judged right, and she has good friend, we must, as one of our old commissioned me to invite you to her courtiers says, be the willow and not counsels. She lives concealed with ten the oak in such times. I am John of her young ladies of honour in a fair Harrington, son of Isabel Markham bouse near Marybone Park, wbere and a good father, yet I am content to Mountjoy fought Lord Essex for say, put off my spurs and tawny jirkin, and ing, Every fool has a favour now. be called a physician. Since James When she is willing and ready to reveal chooses to be called George, and has herself to you, for the time is not quite made his astronomers alter the style of ripe, she will shew you the fellow to this our calendar, we must even be willing glove, which I now give you as a toto think the world two hundred years ken ; and the watch-word will be that

Sir Christopher bowed with phrase which she used to my fathergreat respect to Queen Elizabeth's god- . What fool bronght thee? go about thy son, and asked him what was the news business.'” Though tbis was a frame at court since he had been confined in of words not quite so courtly as the galthe country, as these forged books told lant master of the queen’s revels would him with an intermittent fever. “Strange, have chosen, he was enraptured to see very strange !" replied Dr. Harrington the very glove in which Elizabeth was

- Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter painted in her favourite portrait ; and Raleigh are gone on a new voyage of only craved to know whether he might discovery to the North Pole ; Mr. Se- not carry with him a high hat, satin cretary Davison and my Lord Burleigh doublet, and shoes with green strings, to have made a coalition; and Dudley of attend her majesty's private councils. Leicester has brought all the gilt tem- Dr. Harrington assured him her safety ples, swimming and singing gods, aye required an exact conformity to the new and the whole orchestra which was put mode; and as the patriot's zeal could into a dolphin's inside wben be enter- endure do delay, they set out in the mail tained the queen, to a new place called to London. an opera-house.”—Sir Christopher Had Sir Christopher Hatton, who paused several seconds with a serious ended his honest life in 1591, been sudair, and answered, “ I have one com- denly wasted to Piccadilly, and awakfort in all this. Since the present ruler ened after a sleep of two hundred years, of things calls himself but a Regent, he could not have been more ignorant there is hope that our good lady and of its customs, or more astonished at its mistress is still living, but not in that extent, than his modern namesake, ostensible palace where it is said the whose farthest journies had never be true sovereign abideth. Now as I bless fore exceeded a mile from his Stokeher memory for her great goodness to Pogeis. But as every

But as every man ought to me and mine--not to mention the praises speak for himself, and the fashion of she always bestowed on my dancing,* keeping journals seems to have been as I have resolved to visit London in quest prevalent among Queen Elizabeth's of her. To which I am the more courtiers as modern travellers, we will minded, because sundry vehicles have give Sir Christopher's, as he framed it passed this way, bearing on their sides in a letter to his housekeeper, probably in great letters to LONDON, which is a on the model of his friend, Sir John distinct and providential direction.” Harrington's. The physician remained silent, as if “How shall I speak what I have seen meditatiog on a matter of vast import; or what I have felt ?--thy good silence then drew his new knight to the chim. in these matters emboldens my pen.

For, thanks to the sweet god of silence, Gray alludes to Sir C. Hatton dancing after be thy lips do not wanton out of discrewas Lord Chancellor“My grave Lord-keeper led the brawls,

tion's path, like the many gossiping " The seals and maces danced before him." dames we could name, who lose their

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