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Varieties : Critical, Literary, and Historical. (VOL. 2 ANTIPATHIES.-LAROCHEJAQUELEIN. country teeming with recollections suited

From the London Literary Gazette. to his ardent imagination; he ben visto The Journal des Maires mentious a ed Turkey, Egypt, and lastly Jerusalein, woman who is seized with horrible con- the principal object of his journey. He vulsions whenever she sees a serpent or afterwards lanc' -d on the coasts of Afria toad. It likewise tells the story of M. ca, surveyed the spot on which Carthage Charles d'Escars, Bishop of Langres, once stood, and ri'turned home through who fell into a trance at every eclipse of Spain in 1807. Soon afterward he pabthe Moon. A more extraordinary lisbed his Martyrs, and in 1811 llineinstance of this kind of phenomenon is raire de Paris à Jérusalem. At last related in the Memoirs of Madame de came the time when be found himself Larochejaquelein. The sight of a squirrel enabled to express freely his hatred to produced on the intrepid Henri de Bonaparte, and his devotion to the cause Larochejaquelein all the physical effects of the legitimate monarch. It was so of fear; the hero of La Vendée could early as the beginning of April 1814, pot approach this weak and innocent that these sentiments burst forth with animal without trembling. This he equal beauty and eloquence, in his book himself confessed, though he smiled at entitled De Bonupurte et des Bourbons ; his own weakness, and made useless of which a prodigious number of copies efforts to overcome it.

was printed by order of goveroment, and CHATEAUBRIAND

which had an incalculable effect on the Chateaubriand was born in 1769, at public mind. He produced, at ihe end Comburg, near Fougères, of an antient of the same year, a work which was refamily in Brittany. He entered the ser. markable from the prevalent suppositiop vice in 1786, in the regiment of Na- that an august hand had influenced its varre, and was soon afterward presented composition : it was intitled Riflerions to the unfortunate Louis XVI. The Politiques sur quelques Brochures du army having revolted at the beginning of Jour. M. de Chateaubriund had been the Revolution, Chateaubriand went appointed several months by the King to over to North America in 1790, and an- fill the place of French ambassador at imated with enthusiasm for the beauties Stockholm: but he had not deparied of nature, wandered with infinite delight for that city when his Majesty was obin the immense forests of the new world. liged to go to the Netherlands at the eod It may be easily imagined what a power- of March 1815. He therefore accomful impression such scenes would make panied the King, and held at Ghent the on so elevated an imagination ; and it station of one of his Majesty's ministers. cannot be doubted that he owed to them The report which he addressed to the much of his singular and romantic turn. King in the month of May, on the situHe lived there two years, returned to ation of France, was made public and Europe in 1792, and, resuming ser- printed even at that time in Paris witbvice, was wounded in that year by a out any impediment from Bonaparte's shell before Thionville. This accident, police, Immediately on his return, the added to severe illness, which for three King created M. de Chuteaubriand a years kept him on the point of death, peer of France and Minister of State: prevented bim from remaining in the ar- but he throughout shewed himself an my. He then went to England, where Ultra-Royalist, and chose to dissent he experienced all the inconveniences of from the change adopted in September poverty, but became intimate with M. 1816 respecting the mode of treating ihe de Fontanes, whom he had slightly revolutionary party. His publication inknown in Paris; and it was this enlight- titled De la Monarchie selon la Cherte ed writer who first encouraged him to appeared a few days after the dissolution publish his Génie du Christianisme, of the Chamber of Deputies; it was wbich appeared in 1802. Anxious to seized by the police; and, three days add still farther to his stock of informa- after its publication, an order was intion, he departed for Egypt in July serted in the official journal, purporting 1806, taking his route through Italy, that M. de Chateaubriand was po longer and travelling through antient Greece, a to bear the title of Ministre d'Etat.

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From the Literary Gazette, Nov. 8, 1817,

From the Literary Gazette.


TRANSLATED FROM THE GEEEK OF MOSCHU. THE current was against us, and as we (From an unpublished volume of Original Poetry and came near the city (Cairo) the wind lolled

Translations, almost into a calm. While we were busy at the oar, we leard some unusual sounds on W HEN o'er the surface of the dark green the river's side, and our watermen suddenly

seas, threw themselves on their faces, and began a With gentlest motion steals the rippling breeze: prayer. A procession was seen in a few While pleasing tremors agitate my mind, moments after, advancing from a grove of date The Muse I shun, to placid ease inclin'd. trees at a short distance from the bank. It But when the whitening surge like thunder was a baod of Bedouins, who, in one of their roars, few ventures into the half-civilized world of And the curv'd wave aloft impetuous soars, Lower Egypt for trade, had lost their Chief I flee the terrors of the troubled main, by sickness. The train were mounted, and the And turn my eyes to fields and woods again. body was borne in the middle of the foremost Safe o'er the land I then delight to rove, troop in a kind of palancuin, rude, but And seek the shelier of the shadowy grove ; ornamented with the strange mixture of Where the full gust a constant murmur keeps, savageness and magnificence, that we find not And through the pine's close foliage whistling unfrequently among the nobler barbarians of sweeps. the East and South. The body was covered Evil and toil-ome is the fisher's lot, with a lion's skin; a green, golden-embroid. The luckless tenant of a fragile boat : ered flag waved over it; and some remarka. Duom'd o'er the deep to take his dangerous bly rich ostrich feathers op lances made the way, pinars and capitals of this Arah hearse. Tbe And oft, in vain, pursue his finny prey. tribe seemed not to observe our boat, though Mine be the fate to sink in calm repose, they moved close to the shore ; their faces Where a deep shade the broad-leav'd planewere turned to the setting sun, which was then tree throws. touching the horizon in full grandeur, with an Near may a murm'ring fount my seoses charm, immense canopy of gorgeous clouds closing With sound so soft the rustic's breast t' alarm. round him in sbade on shade of deepening purple. The air was remarkably still, and their song, in which the whole train joined at intervals, sounded almost sweet. Their voices were deep and regular, and as the long pro

From the Monthly Review, Oct. 1817. cession moved slowly away into the desert, with their diminishing forins, and fading

ANACREONTIC. chorus, they gave us the idea of a train passing into eternity. I send you a translation of

[From a volume of Poems, just published.] their song or hymn, such as I could collect it

By Arthur BROOKE, Esq. from the unclassic lips of a Cairan boatman.

TELL me not how fair she seemed, OUR Father's brow was cold ; his eye

1 Nor how her glances mildly beamed, Gazed on his warriors heavily ;

Nor tell me how ber bosou's swell Pangs thick and deep his bosom wrung,

Warmly rose and softly fell, Silence was on the noble tongue;

For noi on me those glances turned, Then writhed the lip, the final throe

And not for me that bosom burned ; That freed the struggling soul below.

And pot a sigb that beaved its snows

For me in kind remembrance rose. He died !---Upon the desert gale

But did a sympathetic flow Shoot up bis eagle shaits to sail.

Equal in either bosom glow: He died Upon the desert-plain

Did feeling with a very twine
Fling loose his camel's golden rein.

Connect her gentle heart to mine,
He died !--- No other voice shall guide Oh long, my friend, would be thy task
O'er stream or sand its step of pride.

To answer all that love would ask.

Every changing charm desiring, Whose is the hand that now shall rear, Every word, each look requiriog,

Terror of man, the Sheik's red spear? On whom she bent ber melting gaze, Lives there the warrior on whose brow Who led her through the dancing maze,

Ilis turban's vulture-plume shall glow? What chosen wreath her temples graced, He's gone, and with our Father fell

What envied zone her form embraced, Thy son of glory, Ishmael!

The hue of every robe she wore,

And oh ! a thousand questions more From the Manuscript Journal of a late traveller That long indeed would be thy task in Egypt.

To answer all that love would ask.


Original Poetry.

(vol. 2


From the Naval Chronicle, Sept. 1817. ON THE FUNERAL OF THE

We make the following extract from Phrosyne, a GrePRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES.

cian Tale, from the elegant pen of H. Gally Knight, By J. F. M. DovAston, Esq.

Esq. just published, and wish our limits would per.

mit us to give one from Alastar, an Arabian Tak, Mwnen Grøynedd-(The Melody of North Wales,) Welsh Air, harmonized. contained in the same volume, and equally inter

M OLL, Britain, toļl
T Thy knell the deepest,

Peace to thy soul,
Fair Saint, that sleepest.

N RECIA ! though op thy heaven-deserted Veil thy valour-blazon'd throne,

W shore Where olive rich with laurel shone,

The virtues rest, and Freedom smiles no more; It's glory's now with willows strown,

From Paphian groves, and Piodus' beechUnited nations spread them,

clad head, Cambria's triple plume of snow,

Though ev'ry muse and ev'ry grace be fled That dane'd in Joy's elastic flow,

Still glow the embers of thy fun'ral pyre With heavy teardrops glimmers low,

With fitful heat and momentary fire ; United nations shed them.

Still from the ashes springs a passing flame,

Proof and memorial of thy earlier fame :
O'er Albion's bier

Last sacred rays ! that grace thee once again, Mourn, while ye show'r it,

And teach the muse to wake the living strain.
Her roses there,
Botir flow'r and flow'ret.

Thron'd on a height, above th' Albanias Thistle, bend thy blossoms red;

lands, ly dew-drops, Shamrock, shed;

The Grecian city, Callihete, stands-And, neighbour Lily, bow thy head,

Parent of hardy sons ! who long withstood With long long farewell greet her;

The rushing torrents of the Othman flood; Drooping wail her obsequies,

And still, protected by their rocks, retain Then up and hail her to the skies,

Blessings unknown to Grecians of the plain. And hope another bud may sise,

No turban'd soldier, with insulting frowo But never hope a sweeter.

Stalks thro' their streets, nor awes the tremOh! England's rosé

bling town: Oh! hope's presuining;

Respected still, th' unviolated right,
Both these and those

Grecians alone possess the Grecian height: We're now entombing.

Still their own archons rule the little state, Mind of Freedom, heart of Worth,

Improve the laws, and guard the city's fate; To glow at Altar, Helm, or Hearth,

Still the loud bell, resounding thro' the air, With all that promis'd Peace on earth,

Proclaims the worship, and invites to pray'r; To thee was largely given.

And Liberty's and Pleasure's evening ray When on high, in happier day,

Still on the favour'd mountain lov'd to play. We lift the laudatory lay, Or blessings on thy people pray,

Yearly the youthful of that hardy band, We'll think on thee in Heavep.

At Summer's call, desert their native land; Nov. 1817.

Traders, or Sailors, o'er the neigh'bring main
They rove, and brave the danger for the gain,
Hence wealth is theirs, to other Greeks un-

known; From the Gentleman's Magazine, October 1817. Hence ampler minds, enlarged by these alone.


By Professor SMYTR.
MYHOU cheerful Bee! come freely, come,

From the Gentleman's Magazine. 1 And travel round my woodbine bower; Upon a Fly that flew into a Lady's Eye, and Delight me with thy wandering hum,

there lay buried in a Tear. And rouse me froin my musing hour;

[From an old Author-Qu. who :'] Oh ! try no more yon tedious fields, Come taste the sweets my garden yields : DOOR envious soul! what couldst thou see The treasures of each blooming mine,

I In that bright orb of parity? The bud, the blossom---all are thine !

That active globe: that twinkling spbere

Of beauty, to be meddling there" And, careless of this noon-tide heat,

Or didst thou foolishly mistake I'll follow as thy ramble guides ;

The glowing morn in that day-break ! To watch thee pause, and chafe thy feet,

Or was 't thy pride to mount so high And sweep them o'er thy downy sides :

Only to kiss the Sun, and die? Then in a flower's bell nestling lie,

Or didst thou think to rival all And all thy envied ardour ply;

Don Phaëton and his great fall ? They o'er the stem, tho' fair it grow,

And in a richer sea of brine With touch rejecting, glance, and go.

Drown Icarus again in thine ? O Nature kind ! O labourer wise !

'Twas bravely aim'd, and, which is more, That roam'st along the summer's ray,

Th' hast sunk the fable o'er and o'er. Glean'st every bliss thy life supplies,

For in this single death of thee And meet'st prepar'd thy wintery day!

Th' hast bankrupt all Antiquity. Go, envied go---with crowded gates,

O had the fair Ægyptian Queen The hive thy rich return awaits ;

Thy glorious mopuinent but seen, Bear home thy store, in triumph gay,

How had she spar'd what Time forbids, And shame eacb idler of the day!

The needless tott'ring Pyramids !

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And in an emulative chafe

From the Literary Gazette, Oct. 25, 1817. Have begg'd thy shrine her epitaph ? Where, when her aged marble must

THE GRAVE OF THE CONVICT. Re sigo her honour to the dust,

[From the Poem just published under the above title.) Thou might'st have canonized her, Deceased Time's Executor ?

M ORN, sweetly blushing, leaves her dewy To rip up all the Western bed

i bed, Of spices where Sol lays his head,

Air's thousand tongues her welcome advent

tell; To squeeze the Phænix and her nest Jo one perfume that may write best,

But, hark, from yonder mansion of the dead Then blend the gallery of the skies

Why tolls so dismally the village bell ?
With her seraglio of eyes,
T embalm a name, and raise a tomb

It was not wont thus to appal my ear,
The miracle of all to come,

As, with the dawn, I oft have hail'd its chime, Then, then compare it : Here's a gem

Or oft, at eventide, have linger'd near A pearl must shame and pity them.

To count each stroke, that mark'd the flight

of time.
An amber drop, distilled by
The sparkling limbeck of an eye,
Shall dazzle all the short essays

But now, through wood and glen, with heavy Of rubbish worth and shallow praise.


Its long dull echoes load the morning breeze, We strive not then to prize that tear,

That seems in sighs to ask the hills around, Since we bave nought to poise it here.

“When heard ye e'er such sickening notes as The world's too light. Hence, hence, we cry,

these?" The world, the world 's not worth a fly.

For none before this peaceful vale had known,
Save such as speak the fleeting hour the

From the Monthly Review, Oct. 1817.

Or such as summon, with their solemo tone, SELECTIONS FROM THE IDYLS OF GESNER, The neighb'ring hamlet to yon sacred pile;

(Just published.)

Or, haply, save some more impressive chime,

That greets the parted spirit to its home ; To those who love pastoral poetry, and the whole gen. Bat ne'er before, through long-remembered tle class of composition connected with it, these se

time, lections afford a portion of their favourite entertain- Such sound as this had left yon village dome. ment. One of the best attempts in the book is

But hark again! it is the convict's knell, THE NAVIGATION.

The warning voice of death.--and lo! 'tis

past; SMOOTH glides the vessel which to distant Now child of sorrow, quit thy prison-cell, shores

Tby cup of bitterness to drain at last. Conveys the lovely nymph my heart adores. Zephyr, thy freshest, fairest breeze supply: A few short moments make thy life a dream, Around the bark, young Cupids hovering ty; Which the oblivious dawn hath chased away; If on the deck the cooling air she courts, Yet, as the vision flies, perchance a gleam Sea-gods! delight her with your frolic-sports ; Shall turn the coming prospect into day. When her soft eyes decline upon the sea, 'Tis then, ye gods! my Zoe thinks on me! From myrile labyrinths that fringe the coast, Pour forth, ye birds ! the strains ye love the

From the Literary Gazette, Nov, 15, 1817. most, By whispering breezes to her ear conveyed, If Pulei should not this week favour you with any Entice my Zoe to your vocal shade.

of his highly poetical strains, perhaps you would Sea! may thy slightest billows calm subside ; have room to insert, in your interesting paper, the Ne'er to thy shore did ocean's god confide, Ne’er did thy waves a freight more precious


first and feeble chirpings of bear,

M AE sparks that shoot from Beauty's eyes A form more lovely, or a face more fair ;

1 Kindle a flame within my breast,--The sunbeam on thy brilliant plain displayed A flame, a: bright as that which dyes Glows less resplendent than the peerless maid; The clouds, that swim along the West. Not Paphos Queen could rarer charms disclose 'Tis not the flame the lightning dlings When from thy bosom's glittring foain she In livid gleams across the skies, rose,

Which just bas time to flash its wings,
And floating radiant on her silvery shell,
The enchanted Tritons, fixed by Beauty's ,

Then, in its natal moment, dies.

'Tis not the sun's meridian blaze, Forsook their rusb-crown'd nymphs and coral That dries the mournful night's pearl tears ; caves,

Scorch'd by whose hot and glaring rays, And, light disporting on thy glassy waves,

Fair nature's face a languor wears. The Nereids' smiles and frowns disdainful Ono! this fame is clear and bright, viewed,

(And now I feel it in me burn) And plunged in ecstasy her course pursued, More like the pure and steady light Till from their gaze the pearly car conveyed That flows from Cynthia’s silver urn. The blooming” goddess to th’ emboweriog The spark was struck by Beauty's eyes, shade.

'Twas fann'd to flame by Beauty breath ; Report says this work is the production of a Cherish'd by Beauty's love', 't will rise lady of fashion.

And higher burn, till quench'd by death.

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To the Editor of the European Magazine. Now agonized upon the earth SIR,

The hissing reptile lies,
The following little poem has never before appeared And foams, and spits his venom forth,
in an English dress, nor indeed has the original Atlength exhausted dies!
found its way into this country-it was put into my “May Heaven bless our gallant knight,
hands by a friend, together with the Latin manu . And grant him length of days,
script; and will, i doubt not be considered a curious Unfading honours ever bright,
and interesting document by your literary readers. And never dying praise."

R.A.D---.. Thus sang the shepherds, with delight;

But who shall tell the fate .

That soon befel the hapless knight? THE ancient monument of La Hogue-Bye,

Who the sad tale relate ? or, as it is now more generally called, La Tour

ur The faithless page had long desired d'Auvergne, is situated in a beautifully romantic, spot in the parish of St. Saviour, in the

His master's virtuous wife; Island of Jersey, and is built upou an artificial

And with unhallow'd pression fired, mound of earth, raised to such a height as to be

Was bent against his life. easily distinguished from the coast of Norman- 'Twas at the silent hour of rest, dy, while it commands a delightful and exten- Unto his couch he crept, sive prospect of the greater part of the Island, And plunged a dagger in his breast, which, from the puinber of orchard-grounds, As fearlessly he slept. has the appearance of a continued forest. The Th'assassin then, with wicked speed, monument has been kept in a state of preserva. His widow'd inistress sought, tion, and the grounds tastefully laid out, and And thus disguised the horrid deed planted with a variety of beautiful shrubs. His muril'rous hand had wrought

The incidents related in the annexed little “Oh! Lady fair! a disinal tale Ballad, are with some variation, grounded Alas! I'm bound to tell; upoo an old Latin manuscript.

And much it grieves me to reveal

What fate your lord befel.
THE KNIGHT OF HAMBEYA-A Romantic Tale: “ Beneath a hellish monster's grasp
m the Frenc

The knight resigned his breath;
y R.A.D

Your slave received his latest gasp, V ON Gothic tow'r, that litts its head 1 Above the neighb'ring wood,

And well revenged his death. In sad memorial of the dead,

“Now, lady, hear the solemo 'best Records a deed of blood.

Of your expiring lord; Which oft the swain will lean to hear,

"Oh! bear,'-:-he cried...this last request With sad and downcast eye:

To her my soul adored. The nymph oft shed the tender tear,

666 Tell her, the fiend you pobly slew And breathe the heart-felt sigh.

That robbed me of my life ; In times of ancient chivalry,

Aod 'tis but to your valour due When Love and Glory reign'd,

That she become your wife.'" And knights with noble rivalry

What terror and surprise now bu'd Their sacred laws maintain'd ;

The wretched widow's breast! A dragon near this peaceful spot

Her blood became with horror chill'd, llad fix'd his fell abode;

But nought her lips express'd. And hapless was the pilgrim's lot,

At length arrived the fated time, That chanc'd to go that road.

The nuptial garlands bloom ;

Her husband, to avert the crime,
Chill horror seized the country round,
And froze the hearts of men;

Forth issued from the tomb.
As oft the mangled limbs were found

On her accustomed hour of rest Hard by the monster's den.

The grisly spectre broke; Aulength the Knight of Hambeya came,

And, pointing to his wounded breast, From ancient Neustria's shore,

These awful accents spoke. The country of heroic fame,

“Oh! wife, the damned treacherous slave Where dwelt our sires of yore. *

That would thine honour stain,

Tby husband did of life bereave,
The faithful partner of his bed

His wicked ends to gain.”
Implor'd his stay in vain;
He vow'd to lay the monster dead,

He said, and vanished from her sight,
Or ne'er return again.

Like mists of morning grey;

But Justice with a heavenly light
For fear could not the knight subdue,

Beamed forth upon the day.
At danger wont to smile;
But prompt at Glory's call he flew

Which saw the wicked traitor seized,
To Cesaréa's + Isle,

And to the scaffold borne, Attended by a single page,

His master's restless shade appeased, The dragon soon he found;

His mistress saved from scoro. Ilis eye-balls fired with horrid rage,

Beneath yon consecrated mound, And grinly gazing round.

Raised by his weeping spouse, But uodismay'd the knight advanced,

The knight was laid in depth profound, · And drew his well-strung bow;

Within the narrow house. The fatal shaft unerring glanced,

Which ceaseless from the coast opposed Aud laid the mooster low.

She viewed with aching sight;

- Till Death at last ber eye-lids closed The Island of Jersey, previous to the conquest, In everlasting night. composed a part of the Dukadum of Norinapdy.

+ Cesarea is the ancient uume of Jersey.

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