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VOL. 2.)

Poetry.

277

cieties flourished in Great Britain, but who were most intimately connected that Professorships of Mineralogy on with him enjoyed bis tenderest interest Werner's principles were founded at and care.— In bis house,” said BoettiOxford, Cambridge, London, Giasgow, ger, in his Farewell Address, “ on the Cork, Dublin, and Belfast. At his sug- eminence of Gorbitz, company daily asgestion a society of friends of natural sembled for his advice, and the same philosophy and mineralogy was formed hand with which he felt the pulse of last winter in Dresden, over which Nature, raised and supported every unWerner himself presided.

fortunate. His simple manners, his corHe was in the best sense of the expres- dial cheerfulness, and his social playfulsion a citizen of the world. His house was ness, made him the favourite of his felthe constant rendezvous of curious travel- low-citizens. When Werner entered, lers of all coontries and of all ranks; and every countenance brightened ; the wohe shewed to them all, with uncommon men, too, loved the company of a man patience and attention, his museum, and who, without insipid compliments, alespecially his collection of precious ways had something delicate and enterstones, which excites surprise by the val- taining to say to them. In his earlier ue and variety of the specimens. He years his feeling heart would doubtless did not, however, like writing letters, have made him highly su:ceptible of enbecause he preferred personal intercourse joying the sweets of domestic life : but to every thing, and dreaded the loss of he did not find what he sought. Iu time. This disinterested participation later years he renounced the idea of in whatever promoted in any country them, out of love to science, and was the interests of knowledge and humani- fully indemnified by the cordial avachty, did not hinder him from being the ment of his pupils and friends. Penemost faithful son of his own country, the trated with that true devotion which most loyal reverer of his king. He re. worships God in spirit and in truth, he fused every invitation from abroad, (and often preached to his pupils the purest he received at an early period several morality, w bich he confirmed by his own very brilliant and alluring ones,) and example ; and even iu his lectures often was for many years contented with a rose with genuine enthusiasın from the very moderate salary, supporting himself miracles of nature to their Divisie Auby private lectures. He made presents thor. Such was the man of whom his to all the academies and public schools contemporaries and his country will of Saxony, and endeavoured by this ever be proud ; a man equally distinireans every where to excite a predilec- guished by his rare learning, bis goodtion for natural philosophy. Those ness of heart, and unspotted character.'

POETRY

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From “ Time's Telescope."

A year may bring the wounded mind repose, THE NEW YE A R.'

O’erwhelm the happy with ounumbered woes;

May case the captive's doom :

A fleeting year, ere it is past and gone,
Still wrapi the future iu mysterious
night,

Decay another's bloom---
An eager baste we feel;
We long---we hope---and e'en swift time May ope to sorrow pleasure's blissful cloor,
seems slow-

Make the poor wealthy, and the wealthy poor; Enquiring ask, while yet we would not know, Thus change the forms of fate--Whai m..y this year reveal ?

May shower profuse, from golden realms

above, What may it not?--- Ah ! one short year may On private homes the joys of peace--and love-send

Bring discord to a state.
To his long home, a loved, a valued friend---
Bring others to our new---

Could we look forward but through one short Lay hundreds low in death--- Alas! replace

year, Full mavy a well-known and lamented face, How woulil the smile alternate chase the tcar, By forms entirely new.

The tear its place supply;

278

Original Poetry

(rol. 2

How one sad hour would view the mind per

plext,
Perchance' relieved, and free from care the

next,
Ere yet that tear was dry.
But though weak man alone can truly see
What hath been---is---pot what yet may be,

We'll fondly paint the best ;
We'll bid the radiant dawn of hope appear,
Through its fair glass we'll view the opening

year,
And while we hope, we're blest.

Since that dread day, when in these hapless

arm;
I saw Sophia's faded form expire.

4. Moment of borror! when the hand of death, In night eternal, quench'd her eyes' soft

fame : When her dear lips, with their last fleeting

breath, In trembling accepts sigh'd her Henry's

5. Then in my sight all nature seemed to fade ; Each beauteous scene was veil'd in mid

Dight gloom, And nought appeared, save yon deep cypress'

shade, That low'ring bends above Sophia's tomb.

H. E. L.

name.

From the Literary Gazette. INEDITED SONNET, BY GRAY.

SPITE OF CONVICTION. THYRSIS, wben be left me, swore

From the Gentleman's Magazine

Mb what means yon violet flower And the bud that decks tue thoru ? 'Twas the Lark that upward sprung ; 'Twas the Nightingale that sung. 'Idle notes, untimely green, Wliy such unavailing haste ? Western gales, and skies serene, Piove not always Winter's past : Cease, ye doubts, my tears to move, Spare the houour of my Love !

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From the Literary Gazette. ANSWER TO THE ABOVE.

BY THE LATE GENERAL FITZPATRICK.

VYRSIS will return no more;

Erp the Autumn well was o'er, Were his Summer vows forgot ; And since Winter's snow and rain Not a trace of them remain. Cease repining, simple Maid, Thorns may blossom, Birds may sing; Love's a flower, which, once decayed, hunows of no returning spring. Blaste and seek another Swain; Trust, and be deceived agam.

ODE.
ASTERIA ROCKING THE CRADLE.

By Mr. GEORGE DYER.
IT IS fair Asteria's sweet employ,
Tho'small that cradle, it contains
Treasure, beyond a King's domains.
Not all Arabia's spicy store,
Not all Goiconda's glittering ore,
Liysiav tields, por lden's grove,
Could luy tirat little restless love.
Dear bahe! the fair Asteria rrips;
Dear babe! the listening muse replies;
W nje here a latl.ful guard we keep,
Dear babe, enjoy the honied sleep.
Now hush, the sons ! now hush, the cries !
Lo gentle slumbers close his eyes!
And here a faithful guard we keep,
Sweet bale! cujoy the bovied steep.
Ere yon fair orb, that rules the sky,
Beau'd on that little stranger's eye;
Ere yel with feeble voice it wapi,
('lose in the silent wombit slept.
And, who can tell the hitter smart
That pierc'd Asteria': trembling heart?
Yet sure there's magic in that boy,
That wakes the sofi parental joy.
Still on Astcria's langnid face
The primrose palene-s keep its place:
Yet o'er that face what brillant hues
Can this beloved babe dituse !
How sweet beside the cradle's brink,
Du musing state to gaze and think !
No daisied bank, no green bull's s.de,
So shines in paiure's decent pride.
Now see the babe unclose his eyes !
And see the mother's transports rise !
How every feature charms ber sight!
How every motion wakes delight!
What rising beauties there sbe views !
Toe rosy IP, the pol sh'd nose,
The slender eyebrow budding thin,
The velvet chřek, the dimpling chin.
Avon she views the sparkling eye,
The lifted band, the iuneful cry;
And hastening on thro’years to come,
Sue traces out his future doom.

From the Literary Gazette.
TO THE MEMORY OF SOPHIA.

1.
No more, ye bow’rs, I seek your cool re-

treat ; No more on Philomela's strain I dwell. No more, O Nalad! domy wardening teet Delight to linger near thy crystal cell.

2. for, oh ye beauteous scenes ! though swift

wing'd Time, With wasting hand has made no change in

you; Tho'still ye flourish in your richest prime, And see each spring bestow a lovelier bue ;

3. Yet with far other eyes I view your charms, Far other thoughts your once-lord haunts

inspire

FA Berife

vol. 2.]
Original Poetry.

279
" Haply he'll plead Religion's cause ; Twas plunder'd, but enough is left
Or weep o'er Freedom's bleeding laws; A lightoing spark from Heav'n to win...
Or feel the Poet's sacred rage ;

Its thunderbolt has struck the cleft;
Or trace the dark Historic page."

But woke the glorious flame within !--

V.
Nor is so sweet the sweetest gale,
That breathes across the silent vale,

ANOTHER RELIC.
From myrtle grove or gardew's bloom,
As is the honied breath's perfume.

BRIGHT are the Muses' gifts, they say, ! At length she breathes the fervent prayes :

In Glory's field and Summer's day,

Tho'brief must be the verse I put on
Great God, oh! make my child thy care !

So small a subject as a Button ;
And may his future actions be

Yet, Stella!---to thyself I prove
Sacred to virtue, dear to thee !

This button is a type of love.
Whatever fortune then betide,

It forms attachments near and strong---
Thou shalt his portion still abide ;

It brightens oft by wearing long ;
And when the course of life is run,

Through narrow chinks it wins a way,
Give him a never-withering crown.

And holds when other loops decay :
Ilere often like thy beauty's charm,

It keeps a soldier's bosom warm.
From the Earopeaa Magazine.

We praise not circles that abound
A RELIC FROM WATERLOO.* In grandeur, but the perfect round---

And in this button's liumble size
VAREWELL !---the blow that ends the

llow true a cycle charms our eyes
strife
Dooms but a ruin to decay---

Thus in a little ring enshrin'd

Love's amphitheatre we find.
One---but one link of less tban life
Remains to end in nameless clay.

This relic, fresh from holy earth,
Let him who treads the deatb-field, spare

Is more than modern honour's worth:
This relic, lov'd too late and long---

Fame, wealth, and wisdom, du for man

No more than simple buitons can---
Ah !--- leave it in my dust to share
Tbe bome a miser dare not wrong.

While Glory's sparks fly off like rockets,

They grace his coat and guard his pockels.
And if to greet thy proud return
My fatber lifts his boary head,

This sparkled once on Brunswick's breast,
He will not start nor shrink to learn

Avd lay with boble hearts at rest---
How low I rest on Honour's bed.

From precious dust it rises now

To loop the hat on Stella's brow---
But shun the deep blue melting eye

There join’d to beauty, wit, and science,
That fondly looks and glistens near ; It serves again a Belle Alliance.
Nor tell what lonely sepulchre

June 20.

V. Thy pity gave the Cuirassier. My mother !--- Fancy's earliest flow'r Was by thy tender fost'riog nurst;

From the Literary Gazette. Thine was my ooon tide's brightest hour, EPITAPK FOR THE HON. THOMAS ERSKINE, . And thine the thought that warm'd it first--

(NOW LORD ERSKINE) WAEN HE SHALL BE Receive the last !---thy glory's stem

PLEASED TO DIE.* BY THE LATE RichARD Has fallen, and its pride is past; But thou wilt treasure as a gem

Ball, Esq. WRITTEN AT North COURT, The blighted leaf that linger'd last.

Isle of Wight, 1793. Thou wast the eyelid of my soul,

ERE lies a man, who never lied before, Preserver of its purest sense ; And once beneath thy bland controul

more. It slept io holy innocence.

In pleading subtle, but in language clear,
Oft to the brink of ruin's flood

Strong without rage, and deceit ibo'severe.
Thou cao'st a wand'rer to arrest;

Whose manly sense gave vigour to the laws,
And smiling in thy bounty shew'd

Whose sterling wit, from wisdom forced apThe softness of a matron's breast.

plause,

Whose eagle eye guilt shuddered to behold, Thep by thy mild--thy pleading look, Whose lative voice, made bashful merit Light of iny erring life !. cow'd

bold. To write my name in Glory's book,

With nice discernment, sifting every matter; Or moulder in an early shroud.

Line honey, drops his praise, like gail his The flow'rs of revelry and wit

sat.re, Have left this hollow bos m barr;

Firm to his purpose, steady to the end, But one long-hid remembrance yet

No couris could bras, whom no frowus could

bend, Lives like the dark soft violet there.

The por man's advocate, the needy's friend. There is an eve that will not mook

When suchtyiniumph, and when such men The ruin in this breast unse))--

bleed, The cha-in in the shatter i rock

Thy victory, O grave, is great indeed !
Tells where the diamond mine has been.

* Collected from fragments found near a dead cuirassier, with a broken picture.

* N.B. The party at North Court agreed to write each other's epitapus.

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From the Literary Gazette.

Though the walls of a college have never

confin'd ON BEING TOLD TO REMEMBER. What pbilosophers tell me to say is my mind,

Yet the wags, in their wisdom, continue to call

The lodging I dwell in---the Bachelor's Hall. take

They're welcome to term it whatever they Thy image from my breast;

chose, “ Reinember!” Yes, till life forsake

A cloister, a ball, or a seat for the Muse; That heart thou oft hast blest.

I care not at all if it does but contain

The sylphs which, they say, preside o'er the “ Reinember!" Yes, when bright-eyed morn

brain; Brings joy to all but me;

For then they would help me at that stupid When fancy points where bliss was born,

time, Then I'll remember thee.

When the thoughts will flow peither in prose Remember!" Yes, at noon-tide hour,

aor in rhyme. And when the dews of eve

For a moment, bowever, this hall l'll survey, Embalm each fading transient flow'r,

And, like Hezekiah, my treasures display: That smil'd but to deceive.

Tho' its stores are but few, yet still I am iold, * Remember!" Yes, when midnight-star By those who are judges, they are worth more Gleams on the ocean's swell,

than gold; And hears that voice, tho' distant far, The lowest shall first be brought into view, Which sighs to friends, farewell !

(Whose beauty to keep, you must clean well M.

each shoe,) 'Tis a carpet, which never in Turkey was seet,

Tho' its colours are red, intermingled with From the Monthly Magazine.

green: ON THE DEATH OF AN ENGAGING In a corner there stands a box, which they say

Is fill'd with the wealth of Newcastle each day; CHILD UNDER THREE YEARS.

And near it a neat little grate there is plac'd, BY ROBERT RANKIN.

With fender and irons most tastefully grac'd;

The list of my furniture soon I shall end, H! why---the heart-rent parents ask--- A table, a bed, and a cbair for a friend,

Is all I possess; except you'll allow E’er we could enter on the task

The visions of Fancy realities pow : Of teaching him the way to Heaven? Of these I enjoy a pretty good share, Why was the link of love, oh say,

Tho' I'm not cross'd in love, nor burden'd

with care.
Wisdoin divine ! so early broke?
Why were the stem and tender spray
Divided with so keen a stroke?

But row to my treasures---they stand on a

shelf, The parents listen---from the skies,

And seem more conspicuous e'en than myself: Ju seraph tones and accents mild,

To give them a name would puzzle the elves, A pure angelic voice replies;

Tho' booksellesscall thein octavos and twelves; Mark! 'tis the spirit of their child : And some, which appear more majestic in size,

Are folios and quartos, and deem'd a great Dearest on earth! I ne'er was given,

prize. But by my heavenly Father sent

Tho'shabby their coat, yet 'neath it we fiod To teach, not to be taught ; and Heaven

What the pious would call a heav'nly mind. Receiv'd back only what was lent.

Here Ridgely appears, as dry as a slick, Pure as a ray of heavenly light,

To prose o'er bis pages would make us quite I visited your earth's abode;

sick; And pure as angels, ever bright,

One really would think the good man was Return'd again to dwell with God.

afraid

Of breaking the law if an image he made. Then calm your sorrows, soothe distress, Dext "silver-tongu'd Bates," And learn of me the heavenly road ;

flowing strain Let purity your hearts possess--

Jovites us to listen again and again ; Tlie pare alone can be with God.

And Oliver's Chaplain, both turgid and grand, The link of love, renew'd with him,

Whose language and thoughts can attention Can ne'er again such frailty show ;

coinmand. And, in his Paradise, the stem

These ss.ges among many others are found. And spray will live and ever blow.

And somne who have trodden on classical

ground;

Adorning my hall, and giving a grace
From the Monthly Magazine.

To wbat would be else a desolate place.
MY LITTLE ROOM.

In this little cell secluded each day,

My time rolls serenely and swiftly away: HEN the hills are array'd in a mantle of And, tho' some may think it a very poor Snow,

To live so recluse, and not have a wile, And the icicles bang on the bushes below : Yet let them remember the converse I hold When thro’the dark forest the winter-wind with the spirits of those whom Fame has howls,

enroll'd, And the tempest with fury along the heath And, 'weighing the subject, then let them scowls--

declare, Secure from their rage, I sit near my fire, If the bachelor ought to be join'd to the fair.. Perusing my book, or thuing my iyre.

June, 1817.

whose soft

life

WHEN

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SIR,

From the Literary Gazette.

MODERN POETS. ON THE NATURE OF LORD BYRON'S POETRY. most all our writers, particularly of prose.

It is the too frequent recurrence of the I amination of other poets, I shall used ia corresponding members of a sendevote another paper to Lord Byron,* as teoce. I shall explain my meaning better I bave not yet exhausted the subject. by an example His best works, in my opinon, are his Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew.' Corsair and his Lara, because they com

CORSAIR. prise more strength of conception, and, Here the first to marks the infinitive at times, more correctness of language, mood, and the second the dative case. than any of the rest. They prove, too, In a language like our own, where terthat the heroic couplet is this author's minations are so seldom allowed, those forte; and as it is also the metre, in feeble substitutes, to, with, by, from, &c. which weak writers are sure to fail, his should, at least, be prevented, as far as success must at least exclude him from possible, from acting different parts ia that class. And yet, I can scarcely say, the same line. that even in these works, he shews bim I could mention innumerableinstances self a whit more correct than the "slove where other inattentions to composition enly Dryden.” His “ten low words oft either obscure or deface his poetry. Illecreep in one dull line,” and sometimes in gitimatę rhymes, such as sent and inslıufour lines together. There is likewise a ment-brow and glow-bring and fault very frequent in his narrative—the banquetting—besides the recurrence of change of tense from the past to the pre- the saine rhyme at the distance of only sent. I have a passage before me where one or two couplets. To the same cause, there are five changes in eleven lines; I am sure, may be attributed several rethe following is a shorter instance. dundancies, such as “ bows his bent -------" They seized him each a torch,

head,"--for if be bowed, it must be And fire the dome from minaret to porch,

bent-several absurdities, such as—" in A stern delight was fixed in Conrad's eyes." icy smoothness flowed"—for ice cannot

Corsair. be said to flow-and several inean Another ungraceful mode of diction his phrases, such as, “ that fair she," and Lordship possesses in cominon with al- " what ails thee?"

The licence of using long syllables, 9N AFHEN EUM. Vol.

where the mea:Hre does not admit of

* See pp. 217, 242.

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