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more rich and gushing-more like the ar our parallel short, the spectator, who is dent throb of the nightingale, than any thoroughly fond of four-legged actors, thing we have yet heard. All he has to must go to both houses, and study both the avoid is, a too frequent wandering into the studs. We suppose there will be no end falsetto-and an occasional pasal earnest to these cattle shows till a horse gets really ness, peculiar, as we thought, to Mr. Bra- wild, and makes a stepping block of Mr. ham. He has not,to be sure,improved in his Ware's head some night, previous to a comacting, or in his mode of speaking , and, fortable skull-gallop over the pit. We for a person who has visited that land of would give seven shillings to be in the sesweet sounds, Italy, we cannot but feel sur cond tier on that night-particularly if we prised that he should still carry Scotland so could induce a few select friends to pay plainly on the tip of his tongue.

their three-and-sirpences on the occasion. The horses, reader ! are at both houses, But, seriously, where is all this abuse of tittupping, sporting, sidling, tail-whisking, the public taste to end ? Is it not a wretchgalloping, dying, with a zeal very inglori- ed thing to see Fawcett shambling about ous and unbecoming in this weak, piping among the saw-dust, as though he had been period. Mr. Eliston's horses are numer brought up in the shambles; and to hear ous, and of many colours. They are too, beautiful music beat to death by trampling and if we may say it without offence, ap hoofs? Oh! where Shakspeare basso parently a leetle nearer the corn-bin than greatly triumphed, and where genius still Mr. Ducrow's. Mr. Elliston's stud, too, might triumph, why should the frivolities has a good variety of colour, and the tails of Astley's, and the pranks of Bartholomew are well suspended, and admirably fasten- Fair, be played off, and in double tinsel ? ed-whereas, Ducrow, in thy lot, the brown Lastly, if horses must draw (and they generather predominates, and one tail told a rally do) why should they not be kept to tale one night (hy nearly getting thrown the afterpiece, so that the stage should, for from its horse) which, we trust, is not a a short time, be free and safe for common common occurrence. On the other hand, sense, and two-legged performers ; as unhowever, if Mr. Elliston's vags are better til this year it has invariably been? Will in the foregoing points, they are worse in any managers answer these questions? others. They cover less ground in their

NEW WORKS. gallop-that is, they take up their little frenzied legs, and (like the hackney coach

Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions, man and the countryman) set them down

12mo. 108. 60.- Aureus, or the Life and where they took them up : They are less Opinions of a Sovereign, 12mo. 78. 60.profuse of the sawdust amongst the fiddlers. Odes of Pindar in English Prose, 2 vols. They dot too much :-whereas, thy char. 8vo. 218.-Dyer's Privileges of the Unigers, Ducrow, get two yards in ten minutes, History of the Cotton Manufacture, 4to. 98.

versity of Cambridge, 2 vols 8vo.-Guest's and really seem to go-thine turn about

-Westall's Thirty-five Views the caper--plunge- and actually leap a poplar with the courage of hunters. Mr. Ellis. Thames, imperial 4to. 31. 3s. ; India proofs, ton's crack-borse astounds the gallery with 41. 78. 60.-Illustrations of The Abbot,

12mo. 4s. 9d.; 8vo. 6s.; 4to. 12s; India carrying a lady up the Cataract of the Ganges; and, truly, this sounds no bad proofs, 15s.-- Penrose's Essay on Miracles,

12mo 28. 60.-Epitome of Paley's Evidenfeat-but thy cock-horse, Ducrow, wheels about-ascends a precipice, and flings a

ces, 12mo. 35.- Rogers' Discourse on the wild Indian over a bridge into the guli be. Divinity of Christ, 8vo. 58.—Howison's low! This last beats Mr. Elliston's horse

Grammar of Infinite Forms, 8vo. 55.all to tatters. In short, for we must cut Thoughts on Prison Labour, 8vo, 9s.

on

(Lond. Lit. Gaz.)

HOPELESS LOVE,

If I could bring my soul to think

That we should meet again
Beyond the grave, I would not shrink

From all this world of pain :
But, oh! the dreadful thought, that we
Are parted by Eternity,

Will sometimes cross my brain;
And that is wo so sad and deep,
I almost wish for endless sleep.
I know 'tis wrong to love thee-feel

There's guilt in every sigh!
But I have seen soft Pity steal

The moisture from thine eye;
And I have felt how kind and warm

The soul encompassed in that form,

And cannot say " Good bye.”
I know 'tis wrong to love thee, yet
I could not, for the world, forget.
For I bave taught my heart to pray,

That it might pray for Thee;
And when the twilight fades away,

And moonbeams light the sea,
In fervent prayer I lift my soul,
That all thy days may calmly roll

In peace and social glee;
Tho' every blessing meant for mine
Should pass my head, and light on Thine.

OF THE

ENGLISH MAGAZINES.

No. 5.)

BOSTON, JUNE 1, 1824.

(vol. I. N.s.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

(Europ. Mag.)
ARISE, MY LOVE!

" Solomon's Song." Chap. II.
Arise ! my Love, the new born gale
Breathes softly o’er each fragrant vale ;
The rains are past :- from sapphire skies
Darts the warm beam ; lo ! winter flies.
The soul of music wakes, and now,
Mid the wild notes of sky and bough,
The turtle's voice, in accents bland,
Floats through Judea's pleasant land.
How balmy is Judea's breeze !
How lovely are her flowers and trees!
The tig drinks lustre from the sun,
The vines from “bud to beauty” run,
Arise ! my Love, the leaf-wreathed hills,
And flowers that fringe the sparkling rills,
And songs that roll, and gales that play,
At more await thee-come away.
0! let me hear thy voice divine,
And view the living lustre sbine,
From eyes to me more dear-more bright
Than all spring's beaven of life and light.
0! what were spring without thee, love,
Or minstrelsy below-above-
Bud, leaf, bloom, flower, or genial ray?
Arise, my fair one, come away.

SONG.
Oh meet me once, but once again,

Beside tbat old oak tree;
It is not much, of all thy vows,

To ask but this of thee.
Ob meet me when the evening star

Shines on the twilight grey,
Just while the lark sings his last song,

I have not much to say.
I know that when to-morrow's sun

Lights up the vale again,
You'll lead your fair Bride to the church,

And cannot meet me then.
But this last evening is your owo-

Come to our old oak tree;
Surely, dear love, you cannot fear

Aught like reproach from me.
ATHENEUM VOL. 1. 2d series.

22

No, dearest mive ! then pray thee come,

When that star lights the sky ;
I do but ask to pardon thee,
To kiss thy lips, and die ?

L. E. L.

(Lond. Lit. Gaz.)

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

PROSE BY A POET.

THE
HE taste of the times is not in fa- will speedily adorn these pages, for I

vour of a book of essays; and we myself am not yet in the secret, nor do partook of the taste of the times, when I know what I am going to write. these two little volumes were put into This reflection startled me, and, our hands. They have changed it; What will it be ?' came with such imand will, we are sure, provoke a new portunity into my mind, that I could relish in the palate of most readers. not help replying, "What indeed!' They are very pleasing productions. There was silence among my thoughts, TI prose of a writer of not only poet -a dead white silence; and though I ical feeling and imagination ; but of called them,-called them repeatedly one gifted with a fine mind, replete and earnestly, as if I were a drowning with graceful sentiments, original man, to come to my assistance, not thoughts, and delightful fancies. The one would move or speak. I looked language, too, is worthy of the matter; with consternation around, but saw easy and elegant.

nothing except pen, ink, and paper ;Were we to enter into minute criti- nay, do what I would, I could make no cism, we might have to point out the more of them; pen, ink, and paper least effective of the papers, and occa- they were and remained. Every mosionally an inapplicability of style to ment increased my perplexity, for subject, or some such unimportant de- whatever might be their good-will, or seci ; but we are so charmed with the their occult capabilities, they could do whole, that we will not take this course, nothing for me of themselves; the pen and particularly as we should be bound could not go to the ink, the ink could in justice to balance the detections by a not come to the paper, the paper could much more readily obtained extract of not pour forth ideas and array itself insulated beauties. At least, for the with words, as the earth in spring present, we shall deem it sufficient to throws out verdure and flowers from its abridge one of the Essays, and if this bosom, spontaneously spreading beauabridgement does not exhibit a playful, ty and fertility where all had been intelligent, and interesting writer, we waste and barren before. Alas! my shall doubt that Addison deserved a re- immaculate sheet lay in view, like an putation, and Johnson the fame of a untrodden wilderness of snow, which I moralist.

must cross, without a bush, or a knoll, Pen, Ink, and Paper.

or a single inequality on the surface, to * There was little in my ink stand, guide my course, or awaken one pleasand nothing in my head, when I sat ing association amidst the dreary modown, with a fair sheet of Bath-post been what it so chillingly resembled

notony
of scene.

And truly if it had before me, to write an essay for a lady's portfolio. At first, with a degree of the very sight of it freezing my blood self-complacency, which perhaps none

-I felt just then as though I would but an author in favour can feel, I con

rather have been the man perishing templated the blank under my eye,

amidst the snow,' in inmortality of which was about to be enlivened by verse, than the living being that I was, my wit, or enriched with my eloquence. rils to fear beyond such as I might en

by a comfortable fireside, with no pe As I mended my pen to begin, thought 1,--the wisest men on earth could not

counter at a mahogany writing-desk, anticipate what I shall do here, nor in traversing with my finger-ends the shrewdest guess the subject which few sheets of cream-coloured paper.

a

To consummate my misery, I recol- dark pool all the " legions, angel-forms, lected that one of my fair friend's cor- who lie entranced within it respondents being in a similar dilem- Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks ma, though not, as in my case, from In Vallombrosa. Paradise Lost, Book I. the folly of self-confidence, had the fe

60 that I had a chemical test, licity to fall asleep, and dream so enter whereby I might analyze this little tainingly, that I only wondered how fluid,and learn, -not what it is made of, be could find in his heart to awake, but what might be made of it! I am unless it was for the pleasure of telling too dull at present to fish up a single his dream. But though feryently in- idea from the bottom : yet if ten thouvoked, Apollo in no shape, and least of sand people were to sit down to the exall in the shape of Morpheus, would

periment, each one would produce come to my relief; nor could I dream

something different from every other; of sleeping in such distress, for if I had

and were they all to record their lucuslept, whatever were my visions, pen, brations in this ink, with this pen, on ink, and paper would haunt me through this paper, their themes, their thoughts

, them, and i knew that when I awoke I

their diction, would appear as diverse should find nothing before me but pen, as their faces, their voices, and their ink, and paper still.

hand-writing.' “ Again, with a feeling too forlorn to “ Fanciful as this soliloquy may be reisembered without a relapse of it, seem to my readers, to me it was a 1 took up my pen ; the ink had already golden key, which of its own accord dried in it, though not a line had been unlocked a casket of curious speculawritten except that shortest and sweet- tions, so dazzling, attractive, and numest and least of all, as every body berless, that I knew not where to beknows, 'Dear Madam! I cast my gin, or which to select. It was evieye down the first page of the paper, dent, however, on the first glance at this and if it had been an indictment for treasure, that I might fill my paper petty larceny, I could scarcely have with a descriptive catalogue of only a faced it with more horror ;-it was as few of the gems, while the mine whence white, and as smooth, and as empty as they came would be as exhaustless as ever! I turned to the inkstand, and the collective imaginations of all minds luoked into it, like Esop's thirsty crow that ever have been, are, or will be in into the pitcher with a drop of water this world of everlasting vicissitude. at the bottom, which the sagacious Accordingly, in brisker spirits, I bird,-it could not be the same crow snatched up the pen once more, though that let the cheese fall out of his beak it trembled like a living thing between into the fox's chops,-raised to the my fingers, so impatient did I feel to

dropping pebble after pebble fix down with it one of those feeting into it. But my difficulty was not to visionaries which a breath or a motion bring the ink out of the stand, but the might startle away, and forever dismeaning out of the ink. “Ah ! quoth solve the enchantment. And thus I I, gently shaking it, here lies the began with the first that I could touch. quintessence of all science, all art, all * If I were little Jackey Jessamy, invention, all expression. This drop ten years old last Candlemas, with a of ink could speak all languages, dis- flaxen poll, rosy cheeks, and a frilled cover all secrets, communicate all feel- shirt-neck ;-and if, having mastered ing, display all knowledge, detect all pot-hooks and strokes, I had made my sophistry. There is not a thought way into joined hand, with this pen, which the heart of man can conceive, from this ink, on this paper, I should be or words which human lips can utter, inditing. •Fortune favours the brave,' but it is here,-absolutely in my hand, - Custom is second nature,' - Be before my eyes; yet I am so blind, or wise betimes; shun darling crimes? so stupid, that I can discern nothing with other saws and maxims equally but a decoction of nutgalls and cop- elegant and edifying,—which no time, peras. O that I had a talisman, which no space, no circumstance could ever would enable me to call up from this blot out from the tablet of memory;

though for the time present, so far ron !-more than impossible! Make from improving either my morals or what you will of the phrase, it is not a my handwriting by the exercise, I thousandth part so absurd as the might be playing truant in my head, thought. Well then, if I were Southey? and whipping a top, or striking a ball No. Wordsworth ?-No. Bloomwith all my heart. But if I were field ?-No. Moore ?-No. I was Jackey's mamma, and thro' means of so disheartened by these negatives, that this apparatus were corresponding with I durst not hazard another if ; but it his schoolmaster, on the best method was my good fortune to fall immediateof spoiling the dear boy, there is no ly into a brown study, when, to my as. doubt that, with due maternal tender- tonishment and delight, the afore-nam. ness, I would expatiate upon his natu- ed personages, one by one, came into rally quick parts, and give special the room, and sitting down on the warning that these should not be blunt- chair which I had occupied,--how I ed by too much study; for reading happened to vacate my seat I know wears the eyes, writing soils the fin- not, any more than by what spell I gers, and arithmetic wrinkles the fore- was replaced in it, at the end of two head before its time : but I would re- hours; each in his turn made use of commend the utmost care of his per- my pén, ink, and paper. Ob! if I son, the free indulgence of his ginger- could copy what they wrote, -what bread appetite, and the most conscien- only one of them wrote,-I should tious neglect of his morals. Ab! then, make these pages the most acceptable a hundred to one but this very letter that were ever presented by me to the would be the death-warrant to the poor public; but I could not bave passed lad's best interests, which, being duly them for my own, without hazarding executed by the obsequious pedagogue, the fate of the jack daw who borrowed would cause him to leave the school the peacock's feathers. Nor will I with as little head as the fondest par- plume myself at their expense in anoent could desire to see on his heir ap. iher way, by foisting impotent imitaparent's shoulders, to inaintain the fa- tions upon my good-matured readers, te mily imbecility, and transmit it unim- gain spurious credit, under the sanction paired to posterity...."

of great names. Our author next figures the love-let « The door was first opened withter, its answer, a challenge, &c. ; but, out ceremony, by a bearty-looking, shocked by the latter, will not be a middle-aged country gentleman, who man of honour another moment," and came in as if he were just arrived at his lapses into a new train of ideas. own home after a day of grouse-shoot

“ Pen, ink, and paper are still before ing on the moors, with a smile of indeme as at first; and neither copies at scribable good humour on his counte· school, a letter' full of maternal solici. nance, through which some gay appa

tude, billets doux, despatches, nor chal- rition of thought seemed breaking, like lenges have been produced. I look the moon out of a cloud :- he sat down, again at the ink, in which the elements took up the peo, dipt it in the ink, and of all knowledge are blended indistin- presently covered the paper with an guishably, and I think, If I were a eight-syllable lay of the easiest verse poet! Why nothing in the world is in the world, that ambled and cantered easier than to think oneself a poet; in all the paces of a Highland pegasus, and next to it, nothing more common through an episode concerning barons than to be thought so by others ! Aye, and knights, and ladies and lakes, and but to be a poet !-why, to be sure that fields and tournaments, and feasts and is quite a different thing. Well, but if songs, and forests and mountains, and I were a poet, how could I illumine minstrels,--so unlike any thing, that these blank leaves, and adorn them with any body else ever wrote, and so like imagery more imperishable than the all that he himself had written, that I sculptures of Greece? If, for exam. could not mistake the author. No ple! I were Scott ?-Impossible ! sooner, however, had he risen up, than Campbell ?-next to impossible! By- the whole,—which I read as he penned,

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