Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

the important information, that we had already seen the continent of America, that about forty miles to the south-west there were two great seas, one to the west, which was divided from that to the east by a narrow strait or neck of land. The verification of this intelligence either way, on which our future operations so materially depended, devolved on Commander Ross, who volunteered this service early in April, and, accompanied by one of the mates, and guided by two of the natives, proceeded to the spot, and found that the north land was connected to the south by two ridges of high land, fifteen miles in breadth; but, taking into account a chain of fresh-water lakes, which occupied the valleys between, the dry land, which actually separates the two oceans, is only five miles. This extraordinary isthmus was subsequently visited by myself, when Commander Ross proceeded minutely to survey the sea-coast to the southward of the isthmus leading to the westward, which he succeeded in tracing to the 99th degree, or to one hundred and fifty miles of Cape Turnagain, of Franklin; to which point, the land, after leading him into the 70th degree north latitude, trended directly: during the same journey, he also surveyed thirty miles of the adjacent coast, or that to the north of the isthmus, which, by also taking a westerly direction, formed the termination of the western sea into a gulf. The rest of this season was employed in tracing the sea-coast south of the isthmus leading to the eastward, which was done so as to leave no doubt that it joined, as the natives had previously informed us, to Ockullee, and the land forming Repulse Bay. It was also determined that there was no passage to the westward for thirty miles to the northward of our position.'

Captain Ross adds, in 1832 :

"The unusual heavy appearance of the ice afforded us no cheering prospect until the 1st of August, when, in three boats, we reached the ill-fated spot where the Fury was driven on shore, and it was not until the 1st of September we reached Leopold South Island, now established to be the north-east point of America, in latitude 73° 56', and longitude 90° west."

And he finally adds,

"We have the consolation, that the results of this expedition have been conclusive, and to science highly important, and may be briefly comprehended in the following words :-The discovery of the Gulf of Boothia, the continent and isthmus of Boothia Felix, and a vast number of islands, rivers, and lakes; the undeniable

establishment, that the north-east point of America extends to the 74th degree of north latitude; valuable observations of every kind, but particularly on the magnet; and, to crown all, have had the honour of placing the illustrious name of our most gracious sovereign, William IV. on the true position of the magnetic pole."

From the narrative of Captain Ross we learn, that an isthmus, somewhat similar to that of Darien, exists in the icy regions, which separates the Atlantic from the Pacific ocean; and thus prevents all communication between these two vast congregations of water, except by crossing the land. The isthmus of Darien, for the most part, is about sixty miles in width from sea to sea; but in one part it is narrowed to thirty-seven miles, of high and rocky land. The isthmus of Boothia Felix is only fifteen miles in breadth; and, taking into the account a chain of fresh-water lakes, which occupy the valleys between, the dry land which actually separates the two oceans is only five miles. Thus we behold, at two distinct and very distant points, for the one is in the torrid while the other is in the frigid zone, two narrow necks of land in the great western continent, dividing the ocean from the ocean, while in other parts this immense mass of dry land is thousands of miles wide: but these two narrow isthmuses as effectually divide the Atlantic from the Pacific, as the thousands of miles do in other latitudes.

In the great eastern continent we have also an isthmus; namely, that of Suez; but this is broader than either of the two in the great western continent, being sixty miles from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, and encumbered with shoals upon the banks of both oceans. Within the arctic circle, the great eastern continent is inhabited farther north than the great western continent, and with more civilized nations; yet it does not appear that the ocean north of the main land has been explored with that precision which, from the proximity of these nations, we might have expected. The hunters, however, have discovered land considerably to the north of what we term the continent: but their descriptions of this land amount rather to a discovery of its existence, than to a geographical display of its coasts, much less of its interior parts. At this we wonder, considering the enterprising spirit of the Russian emperors, under whose dominion these regions repose.

The object which I had in view, on publishing my manuscript in 1827, was, to call the attention of the reader to the mode in

which the solid matter of the earth is disposed, in reference to the fluid matter thereof; considering this globe, not one at rest, but a sphere in perpetual and rapid motion. Unimpaired by its own action, we behold the earth sustaining a diurnal as well as an annual motion, each of inconceivable velocity, yet maintaining an equilibrium from year to year, and from age to age, between its solids and its fluids, which to the eye of reason is admirable.

Looking at the two great continents which stretch in a direction nearly parallel to each other, from north to south, to an extent which almost equals that of the earth, from pole to pole; and connecting the disposition of the fluid matter on its surface with the solid matter, we see two great oceans carried round with the diurnal motion, from day to day, in the two immense troughs formed by these continents. This disposition of things, it was contended in the article inserted in the Imperial Magazine for 1827, column 162, &c. &c. (which see at large) prevents a current from generating in these oceans, throughout and near the tropic regions, which would otherwise, had not these continents been placed as they now are, have disrupted the earth.

The object which Captain Ross had in view was, to ascertain whether any opening existed in the great western continent, through which a channel or passage might be profitably navigated by ships bound from Great Britain to China. Most laud

ably has he executed his great commission. What toil, what privations, what hardships, and what of that which is included in the idea of peril, awaited and accompanied this dauntless navigator, his brother, and brave companions, during the years they inhabited the icy regions, what pen can trumpet forth? They have met the gratitude, the admiration, and the thanks of Britain, since their return in safety and I trust they will yet meet more substantial proofs of the high feeling entertained by all ranks on their behalf, in an ample reward, awarded to them by the legislators of Great Britain, for their arduous and persevering services.

No evidence of an opening in the great western continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean, but rather a confirmation that the continent in question is one and entire to the 74th degree of north latitude, is the result of this arduous enterprise. This result confirms the opinions published in the Imperial Magazine for the year 1827; and with this subject I purpose to deal more at large on some future occasion. W. COLDWELL. King's Square, Nov. 20th, 1832.

POETRY

A GRECIAN LEGEND.

THERE lay a ship of Egypt homeward borne,
Where Achelous, from embowering woods,
Pours forth in splendour, and the Ionian wave
Plays dimpling round the green Echinades.
Calm slept the silent gusts, and heavily
Her sails hung cloud-like from the unbending mast;
And motionless, above the level waste,
Rose, twined with dragon wreaths, her brazen prow.
Night, with its stars, had faded, and from far
The lowest sound of wakened birds was heard
From fragrant forests, where the unfolding rose
Blushed through the sylvan twilight; yet no streak
Or rosy glimmerings from her halls of light
Gave note of morn's uprising-sullen, dim,
And scarcely marked beneath the lifted clouds,
Piled dense above, that hour of gentle prime,
Gleamed mist-involved along the shadowy sea.
Day came, but mantled in its gloomiest stole,
With fitful lustre struggling into birth;
And, slowly mounting on his upward path,
Glared pale at intervals the spectral sun.
Hushed as before, the winds of heaven were still,
But o'er the quiet deep began to steal
At first a darkening ripple, and anon
The heave and swell of fast-succeeding waves,
As though beneath, the wildly rolling flood
Were moved in terror from its caverned bed;

And ever from the distant vales arose
A moaning, feeble as the gust which sighs
Round pool and thicket dank, when winter's sun
The sea-bird heard, and cowered with folded wing;
Sinks prematurely veiled. That sound, dismayed,
And round the mariner, with wistful eyes,

Gazed on the clouds and solemn forests, spread
Dim by the lea; but tranquil yet as death
Seemed earth around, and shrouded heav'n on high.
So noon went past; but when, in mid descent,
Stooped westering to his goal the Lord of Day,
Along the shore, and from the wooded heights,
Stole sounds of rising music, softened notes
Drawn from the strings of dulcimer and lute,
And cymbal tinklings, and the tone subdued
Of one lone trumpet, blown as if to pour
Its brazen wail above the heroic dead.
Before the prow of that fast-anchored bark
Passed the wild melody, then died remote,
Calming the billow; and, succeeding fast,
Up sprang a voice among the answering rocks,
Shrill as the night-bird's cry-"Lament! lament!
Fair valleys, and thou, flower-apparelled earth!--
Ye ivy-mantled caves, and horrent pines,
And fountains gleaming from your beds of moss !—

Unfathomed ocean, with incessant roar,

Lifting thy waters limitless and free!—
And ye unchanged and ever-living fires,
Who sow with light the azure fields of space,
Lament! lament! dead is the mighty Pan!"
That voice with morn the Seric coast had heard,
Bathed with its tepid flood; and from the woods,
Sounding with hidden streams, where Ind sends forth
Her clouds of incense from a thousand isles-
One universal altar-slunk appalled
The lurking tiger from his cany lair.
Trembled the palm on Taprobana's height,
Though slept the blast, and o'er her placid lakes,

Beside whose banks, with orient stones inlaid,
The beryl glistens faint through sands of gold,
Instinctive rose, and ebbed the heaving wave.
By broad Euphrates, and those flowery meads,
Starred with the wild gourd's blossoms, sternly paus'd
The Assyrian horseman, and his bow upraised
Dropped nerveless, smitten with a dread unknown;
Memnonian Thebes made answer to the plaint
With murmurs from a thousand stony lips;
And o'er Cyrene's olive-shaded hills,

And Hellas, with her founts and vales of song,
And green Ausonia, where the trophied Rome
Sat arbitress, supreme of earth and sea,
Fear fell as night-the guest his jewelled cup
Untasted left, and from the threshold turned
The saffron-vested bride, amidst the blaze
Of congregated torches, while the wail
Of sorrow sank beside the bier of death.
So passed the sound o'er wild Iberia's space,
By Tarshish, tower-crowned queen, and far away,
As sought the sun those yet untraversed coasts
Renowned in legend, and, as fancy deemed,
With shining groves by serpent-watch surveyed,
Died on the wide Atlantic.

AN IMITATION.

O, Willie brewed a peck o' maut, And Rob and Allan cam' to see, &c.

Burns.

Now Learning mourns for Willie gane,
For Robin Poesy wets her e'e,

And Science makes for Allan, mane,
Sin' death's dark house hauds a' the three.
Britons, lament! for genius rare,

All victims of the barley-brie,
And ban the bree, that wad na spare
The precious lives of sic a three.

THE NORTHERN STAR.

THE howling winds around us sweep,
The storms about us roar,

And we we skim the foaming deep,
A thousand miles from shore.
Fierce o'er the wave the tempests ride,
And far from land are we,

Star of the north! with none to guide,

But Providence and thee!

When o'er our deck the billows dash,

And howls the rushing blast,

When from afar the thunder-flash'

Has split our gallant-mast;

When darkness deep has veiled the sky,

Star of the troubled sea,

The sailor turns his anxious eye

Confidingly to thee!

One beam of thine, O! welcome star,

The seaman's beacon light,

Cheers his lone heart when wandering far

In danger's lowering night.

Fierce o'er the deep the whirlwinds ride,
Far, far from land are we,

Star of the north, with none to guide
But Providence and thee.

SAE Willie, Rob, and Allan sang,
Sae taunted time wi' wit and glee:
And aye the chorus a' night lang,
Was as we're now, we hope to be:

For we're na fou, we're na yet fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e,

The cock may craw, the day may daw',
But aye we'll taste the barley-brie.

Time heard their taunts, and snatched his scythe,
And sware an oath they weel might dree,
Had they dree'd aught, while bauld and blythe
They sang inspired, wi' barley-brie;

We are na fou, we're na yet fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e:

And the cock may craw and the day may daw',
But aye we'll taste the barley-brie.

He sware, short while the cock should craw, Their harbinger of morn to be,

For them short while the day should daw',
With golden light on tower and tree,

Short while for them the moon's pale horn
Should gild the scene o'er land and lea:
Ere hapless dawned the fatal morn,
Should gild the graves of a' the three!

And soon, too soon, his aith's been proved,
Tho' of its proof, sma' pairt had he,-
Their death was from the life they loved,
Their mortal drap-the barley-brie:

Ne mair they'll sing, We're na yet fou,
Ne mair the drap be i'their e'e

Nor cock shall craw, nor day shall daw',
For them while o'er the barley-brie.

APHORISMS.

C. M.

GOVERNING according to law and reason, and governing according to will and pleasure, are on earth the two most opposite forms of government; while in heaven, they are nothing but two different names for one and the same thing.- Dr. Clarke.

Fine sentiments delivered in prose are like gems scattered at random; but when confined in poetical measure, they resemble bracelets and strings of pearls.-Abu Te

man.

Laziness grows on people; it begins in cobwebs, and ends in iron chains.-Hale.

Politeness is the art of making a selection from what one thinks.-Madame de Stael.

The highest perfection of human reason is to know that there is an infinity of truth beyond its reach.-Pascal.

Death falls heavily upon him who is too much known to others, and too little to himself.--Seneca.

REVIEW.-The Prose Works of John Milton. Edited by Robert Fletcher. Westley and Davis. London. 1834.

[The spirit and talent evinced in the following critique, and the Editor's sense of the justice of the maxim "audi alteram partem" have induced him to introduce it here. At the same time, its variance not only with his own views, but with the tone of opinion which usually pervades this periodical, obliges him to remind his readers, that he is in no degree responsible for the personal or political notions of those who contribute to this department

of the work.]

Ir were well for the reputation of Milton, if he had been known to the world in the character of a poet alone. While under the influence of the feelings produced by his immortal work, and willingly yielding to a delusion to which most are liable, we at once identify its author with the principles expressed in that noble monument of his genius, and are reluctant to believe the writer of the first of epic poems destitute of a title to rank also as one of the first of men. It is much to be regretted, that so pleasant an impression should ever be destroyed, yet destroyed it invariably must be after the perusal of a few pages in any one of those controversial works bearing his name, which the prudent judgment of our fathers long since suffered to sink into comparative oblivion, and which in the present day would have remained equally disregarded, had not a spirit of indiscriminate reproduction been abroad, which allows nothing, that is connected with a great name, to slumber unnoticed.

Above all other writers, Milton is liable to suffer most by such imprudent attempts to heighten his popularity by the very means most likely to diminish it. The Dunciad of Pope, the profane and licentious poetry of Dryden, or the indecencies of Swift, culpable as they may be, detract little from the reputation of their respective authors, as they are at open variance with no previously received impression in their favour. To the serious power of religion upon the heart they laid but little claim, and, deserving of censure as they may be considered, they must at least be freed from the charge of glaring inconsistency between principle and practice. But when all our favourite conceptions of the poet, by whom the destinies of man have been so greatly and successfully sung, are at once swept away, by documents subscribed by his own hand, in which some of the worst feelings of our fallen nature are revealed in full deformity; when we find the lofty and all but inspired prince of epic song, to whom the most awful sub

jects which can engross the mind of man, time and eternity, life and death, the regions of endless felicity, the abodes of undying punishment, the beauties of a newly created earth and paradise, and the happiness of its sinless occupants, were familiar and not too weighty themes-descending into the narrow arena of human politics, wrangling with all the petty malice of a hired partizan, and all the pedantry of a disputant born amidst the thickest darkness of the schools; when, in addition to this, we discover one well acquainted with the doctrines of the mild gospel of peace, writing in direct opposition to its dictates, and, after the most solemn appeals to the Source of all purity, condescending to make use of the most disgusting obscenities, to add force to his personal invectives; we are at a loss for words in which to express our disappointment and sorrow over the wreck of that ideal excellence, so palpably discovered to have been the mere creature of our fancy; as well as to describe our astonishment that a writer capable of such high intellectual efforts at one time, should at another, when blinded by passion or party zeal, have submitted to a thraldom so complete, and a bondage so revolting.

Such, we imagine, will be the impression left upon every well-regulated mind, after a perusal of the controversial writings of John Milton. Not such, however, are the sentiments of Mr. Robert Fletcher, editor of the prose works before us. Not such is the opinion of the Rev. Mr. Ivimey, the author of a life of the same poet, which has lately fallen into our hands. The latter gentleman, indeed, has discovered an excellence in the subject of his eulogiums, which we hope the nineteenth century will duly value, and roundly affirms Milton to be inferior only to the inspired apostle Paul himself; although, of two of his principal works, one is devoted to the justification of a cruel and illegal homicide, and the other to a vindication of what Mr. Ivimey ought to know has been plainly pronounced by Scripture to be in no wise better than open adultery. How far a christian minister is justified in recommending such works to a christian public, or how far he may think it expedient to scatter opinions abroad in an unqualified way, which, if duly acted upon, would be subversive of the whole frame of society, we do not now stop to inquire; his whole work being far from repaying the labour of criticism, and shewing that whatever may be the beauty of Milton's style, or the purity of his English, Mr. Ivimey will probably be one of the last persons to be benefited by it, since, perhaps, gene

rously disdaining to lessen his favourite author in the eyes of others, by an appropriation of any of his peculiar excellences, he has shewn, in many parts of his work, an utter disregard of the principles of common grammar. Mr. Fletcher, however, takes rather higher ground, and, although his introductory preface is little more than a mere declamatory flourish, and contains, from beginning to end a "petitio principii," which renders it scarcely worthy a serious refutation, yet, as by the boldness of the assertions which it contains it may possibly be productive of some effect upon the minds of those who are accustomed to prefer the judgment of others to their own, in their estimate of an author's merits, we think it may justify a notice somewhat more extended than usual.

The plan which we shall adopt on the present occasion is exceedingly simple, and one which we imagine all our readers will acknowledge to be consistent with the strictest principles of justice. We shall allow Milton himself to answer the eulogies of his extravagant panegyrist; and, after we have selected, in reply to Mr. Fletcher's assertions, such passages as appear most illustrative of the true spirit and character of the controversialist, we will put it to the good sense of those into whose hands our review is likely to fall, whether such productions are not imprudently revived at a time when decency and moderation, with, at least, the absence of the foulest personal abuse, and coarsest execration of an opponent, are indispensably necessary to the reception of any work in literature or philosophy, much more of theological discussion; or, whether the darkness of oblivion were not far better suffered to rest upon a system of treatises, whose immediate tendency is to promote the exacerbation of feelings of the bitterest personal and political hostility, to induce a general contempt for all authority, however justly founded, and to encourage the licentious and immoral to treat with contempt, and break through at pleasure, the most sacred obligations of social life. It may be necessary to observe, that the peculiar political principles advocated by Milton form no object of our consideration; nor do we enter upon the religious questions to which many of his tracts are devoted. Whatever may be our opinion as to the best kind of government, or of the state or condition in which the church is most likely to flourish, this is no place for stating it; and whether Milton, in attacking the principles of monarchy and episcopacy, is deserving of praise or censure, we willingly leave others to determine. All 2D. SERIES, No. 37.-VOL. IV.

we pretend to do is, to shew how completely the representations of Mr. Fletcher are contradicted by the work he has edited; and to call the attention of the public to a few of the innumerable passages scattered throughout Milton's prose works, in which the excess of his virulence, and spirit of party, have hurried him into statements which, we imagine, every one possessed of common candour, without involving himself in the principles of any party, would acknowledge to be dangerous to all social right and justice, and destructive to the first and most essential moral truths. If this point alone be established, no insulated beauties, we apprehend, should have sufficient power to avert the general indignation from falling where there is so much to deserve it; as the most powerful eloquence, exercised in such a cause, ought only to make our censure so much the more openly expressed; for, if mere excellence of style, and strength of language, were allowed to be sufficient palliatives for all moral faults, there is scarcely a book, proscribed by public decency, which might not find a safe refuge under such a plea. The impious wit of Voltaire, the sensuality of Rousseau, the atheistical subtleties of Hobbes, nay, the very abominations of Apuleius and Petronius Arbiter, might plead for admission to our domestic libraries, with quite as much justice, and for the very same reason.

Nothing, it is well known, is easier than to assert; and Mr. Fletcher's preface, as we have before intimated, contains assertions in abundance. He has a most happy talent at coming to great conclusions with very slender premises, and either thinks proofs altogether unnecessary, or disdains to bring them forward; the recovery of a good book, he informs us, "is a sure and certain resurrection ;" and, after laying down this axiom, proceeds to inform us of his own design, in the laudable work of resuscitating the Tetrachordon and Defensio secunda, which is "to popularize, in a multum in parvo shape, the prose works of our great poet,-who cannot be convicted of having ever penned a line which does not equally attest the purity of his motives, and the splendour of his genius." This we shall put our readers into the way of determining for themselves anon; but to shew that Mr. Fletcher does not satisfy himself with very measured terms of panegyric, in claiming the public patronage for the treatises he has endeavoured to popularize," and to point out the absurd and extravagant pretensions which it is now the fashion, in certain circles, to put forth in behalf of 181.-VOL, XVI.

E

[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »