"And away she went, with a seagull's scream, "And a splash of her saucy tail : "In a moment, he lost the silvery gleam "The sun went down with a blood-red flame, "Ah, me! it had been a beautiful scene, "With the safe terra-firma round; "But the green water hillocks all seem'd to him, "Like those in a church-yard ground; "And Christians love in the turf to lie, "And whilst he stood, the watery strife "And the ground decreas'd,---his moments of life "Seem'd measur'd, like Time's, by sand: "And still the waters foam'd in, like ale, "In front, and on either flank,-- "He knew that Goodwin and Co. must fail, "There was such a run on the bank. "The surges came tumbling in ;-- "He sang the evening hymn twice o'er, "And thought of every sin! "Each flounder and plaice lay cold at his heart, "As cold as his marble slab ; "And he thought he felt in every part, "The pinchers of scalded crab; "The squealing lobsters that he had boil'd, "And the little potted shrimps, "All the horny prawns he had ever spoil'd, "Gnawed into his soul, like imps! "And the billows were wandering to and fro, "And the glorious sun was sunk, "And Day, getting black in the face, as tho' "Of the night-shade she had drunk! "Had there been but a smuggler's cargo adrift, "One tub, or keg, to be seen, "It might have given his spirits a lift, "Or an anker where Hope might lean! "But there was not a box or a beam afloat, "At last, his lingering hopes to buoy, "He saw a sail and a mast, "And called 'Ahoy !'---but it was not a hoy, "And with saucy wing that flapp'd in his face, "With a shrilly scream, that twitted his case, "And lo! the tide was over his feet; "He was deafen'd amidst the mountain-tops, "But just as his body was all afloat, "And the surges above him broke, "He was saved from the hungry deep by a boat "The skipper gave him a dram, as he lay, "And chafed his shivering skin; "And the Angel return'd, that was flying away CRITICAL GLANCES. An Address to the Members of the New Parliament, on the Proceedings of the Colonial Department. London: Longman. 8vo. pp. 36. 1826. A second edition of this pamphlet, which we alluded to in our last number, has already been published, a circumstance which augurs well for a more rational examination of the West India Question, than it has yet met with. We have entered into the subject at such length in another part of this number, that we shall content ourselves with making only one extract, and earnestly recommending the pamphlet to the patient consideration of every one who wishes to form a fair judgment on the question, and particularly to the Members of the Legislature to whom it is specially addressed. The author thus points out the course which he conceives would be best calculated to heal the wounds inflicted upon Colonial prosperity by the precipitation of Lord Bathurst, and the violence of the Abolitionists: a course so just and reasonable, that we cannot contemplate any opposition to it from any but those who will not listen to reason, and are determined upon effecting negro emancipation by the slaughter and ruin of the whites. "The course which I humbly suggest is, a parliamentary declaration to the effect "that there is no intention to deny the rights and privileges of the colonists---that before "the adoption of any measures affecting their interests, the fullest and most impartial "investigation will be allowed; that parliament is sensible that the condition of the slaves "has been ameliorated of late years; that there is, therefore, a well-grounded expecta“tion that the planters will introduce the ameliorations recommended by his Majesty's "government, with as little delay as is consistent with a due regard to the safety of the "colonies. That in regard to the question of permitting the slaves to purchase their "freedom, without the consent of their owners, nothing should be pressed on the colonists "until the important subject has undergone the fullest investigation in the way best cal"culated to do justice to all parties. Such a declaration would conciliate the colonists, "and incline them to do every thing in their power to consult the wishes of government. "Indeed, I might venture to predict, that in less than three years it would be found that "the substance of every important measure in the Trinidad order in council would be "found in the codes of the other colonies, save and except the provisions of the forty"second clause, which are more adverse to the spirit of the present day than any of the "laws denounced by Mr. Wilberforce, as expressed in characters of blood; and except, "also, the clause sanctioning manumission against the consent of the owner. Should "my prediction be verified, of which I have not the shadow of a doubt, the question for 66 your consideration would be narrowed to that of compulsory manumission;' and "that question is of such vital interest, that time ought to be allowed for the fullest con"sideration, and the most extended enquiry." The Tor Hill, by the Author of Brambletye House, &c. &c. London: Henry Colburn. 3 vols. post 8vo. pp. 986. 1826. The chief merit of Mr. Smith, as a novelist, consists in his outlines of character: his heroes and heroines are very monotonous beings, and inconsistencies are by no means uncommon in these personages. Mr. Smith is an antiquarian, it seems; a little less of the dust of antiquity might well be spared, however, in many portions of the Tor Hill. The work commences with a picture of Calais, during the period of its possession by the English. "Alas the while! sir,' said Dudley, as he walked by his side, it was an evil hour "and an unlucky deed, when you first altered the old gear of your armour. It ever ""mistrusted me, that a shrewd blow of a mace or battle-axe would make the beaver "start from the sockets of the plackard, and doleful is it that you should pay so dear for "being wrong in your principle.' "God's precious, sirrah!' cried the knight, starting up in his cart, 'what mean you "by wrong in my principle? I tell thee, thou doddy-pate, it is the rarest improvement "in head-pieces since the alteration of the bassnet-piece and the barbet; and this would "have been as staunch a morion as ever stood the brunt of two-handed sword, had not "the cozening armourer (for which may the hangman have the twisting of his neck !) "" tackled it with treacherous solder. Wrong in my principle, forsooth! When our "brave king would assay a new harness of his own, at tilt with the Duke of Suffolk, "' and his visor, sticking in the joint, left his face clean naked, and the duke struck him on the coif-skull with such force that his lance was splintered by the counterbuff, to "the great peril of his highness' life, I showed him that, had he worn one of my improved helmets, he could never have been placed in such jeopardy, and his grace's armourer forthwith borrowed this very head-piece for a pattern.' 666 664 "Would he had kept it,' said Dudley, and hammered it into a cook's porringer, 66 6 so you might have worn one of the old fashion, and have 'scaped this ugly wound.' "Tut! boy, 'tis but as a spur to the old war-horse. I have had an arrow in my "flesh before to-day. Twill be the better for bleeding thus freely: but, sooth to say, it makes me an unseemly figure; and as my beard is sodden, I would fain let it trickle "over the cart-side.' 66 4 "Any one who had noticed the grisly countenance of Sir Giles, with an iron "arrow-head sticking in his cheek, and the gore streaming down his beard into the 64 road, as he propped himself upon the edge of the vehicle, would have deemed "that he was travelling his last journey, and that his thoughts would be of the priest " and the next world; and yet to listen to him, it might seem that he was whole of "body, and hearty of cheer, and bound to some gallant tournament; for his talk was of nothing but feats of arms in battle or at barrier, and of every species of "warriors' accoutrement; still, however, bringing round his discourse to his own incomparable improvements of all sorts, but particularly in the mode of uniting the 66 vizer, the beavers, and the plackards." Again---"Before Heaven!' cried Dudley, I wish you had worn to-day an ""old St. Crispin's helm, that had seen service at the battle of Agincourt, rather than "this new head-piece with all its improvements; for methinks your wound runs *"fresher than before, and you are likely to leave your best blood upon the road, ere "we can cross the drawbridge of Montreuil. Prithee, my good fellow,' he con"tinued, addressing the driver in French, put your beasts to better speed, and it "shall be some silver livres in your pocket; your prisoner is a gentleman and a knight, and has quick need of the duke's surgeon.' Tush, boy!" exclaimed the knight, somewhat testily; a little blood will 666 soon turn a man's beard into a red flag, and I tell thee once more, my wound is "nothing, though 'tis pity I drew not out the head, and that the arrow splintered "in my hand; whence I conclude it was not of yew, or ash, or hornbeam, but "rather of sallow or fir, as is the wont with these bungling French, who can “✦ neither make fletcher's gear properly, nor use it when they have it.'” Humbug!!! a Poem, by William Elliot, 12mo. pp. 100. London, 1826: Rowe and Waller. There Mr. Elliot's "Nun" was a very mawkish poem, and “ Humbug" is apparently scribbled with excessive speed and carelessness. is scarcely a line of genuine poetical spirit in it; in fact, to speak with the greatest indulgence, it contains nothing to make us dislike Humbug, except the poem itself, which is altogether an Aonian Humbug. Ahab in Four Cantos. By S. R. Jackson, Author of the Lament of Napoleon, &c. &c. 8vo. pp. 100. London, 1826: Sherwood and Co. "Reader, hast thou not seen a solitary buoy floating on the vast ocean? the waves "dash against it, and the broad keel of the vessel sweeps over and presses it down, yet it "rises again to the surface, prepared for every assault---I am like that buoy. Thrice "have I appeared before you, thrice have the waves of neglect passed over me, and once "more I rise, a candidate for your good opinion. My wish is not merely to succeed, but to merit success. Palmam qui meruit ferat, was the motto of one who will never "" be forgotten, and I hope to quote it without seeming to be presumptuous.'" "Macte virtute," gallant Mr. Jackson. Should the "waves of "neglect wash away" Ahab, we recommend you to turn sub-editor to a paper, (like the author of Ethelwolfe,) and vent everlasting spleen against all sprouting bards: this revenge will perhaps repay you for your unjust treatment; palman qui meruit ferat!! GAIETIES AND GRAVITIES. ་་ MISS MITFORD'S FOSCARI. THE DRAMA. We have from our earliest days felt a deep interest in the affairs of the Drama; and would willingly join in some holy alliance to restore and maintain its legitimacy. In common too with our more judicious critics, we have often lamented the prevailing degeneracy of the public taste, as declared in the dethronement of Shakspeare, of nature and her followers, and in the usurpation of inflated melo-drame and holiday spectacle. We therefore take a lively interest in the success of a revived old comedy, (there are no modern ones deserving the name), or of the "last new tragedy;" notwithstanding the fact, that, with but one exception (Maturin's Bertram), every tragedy brought out within the last twenty years, has been a dramatic failure. We say dramatic, for the majority of those productions (the Mirandolas, the Consciences, the Vespers of Palermo, &c. &c.) abound in exquisite passages of descriptive, but not dramatic, poetry. The temporary success of a few of these pieces, does not invalidate our general proposition of failure, as that temporary success was wholly owing to a mono-dramatic adaptation of particular parts to the mannerism of popular actors: in other words, that success was spurious and transient. How comes it then that our modern tragedies are either short-lived, or totally abortive? Briefly, because they are neither conceived nor produced in harmony with the movements of nature---because passionate vigour and expression are neglected for ranting declamation---because the measured and elaborate harangues of the Epic muse, are preferred to the simple but forcible language of excited feeling---and above all, because description is entirely substituted for the great essential of the Drama---action. To develope these views in detail, and illustrate them by examples, would lead us too far from our present office of recording the theatrical transactions of the last month, for us now to enter upon them, and necessary, as experience and reflection will convince that they are indisputable. We merely state them now to assist us in accounting for the failure of Miss Mitford's tragedy, which our gallantry and our duty would otherwise have had a struggle in pronouncing an opinion upon; for we are not of those who would totally confine the sex of the fair authoress to the propogating and suckling of young Mr. Shakspeare, and Mr. Fletcher, and Mr. Massinger, upon the principle that the Tragic muse will not be wooed (we don't say won) in a petticoat. We know the folly of such an attempt, and must therefore soften our opinion of Foscari's failure, by ascribing it to the same cause that produced the failure of its male predecessors. Our readers are aware that the name and dramatic personæ of Miss Mitford's play are identical with those of the worst of Byron's bad tragedies. Fearful that this coincidence might lead to unworthy suspicions of plagiarism, our authoress, with modest confidence, assures us, that her piece was accepted for representation at Covent Garden, long before the publication of the noble poet's drama; and that "Ere his bold tragedy burst into day, "Her trembling hand had closed the woman's lay." This cerulean modesty is more becoming than necessary, as every one that sees or reads her performance, will readily acquit her of any very palpable Byronism of thought and expression. As well might one of our fair water-colour artists be said to be a copyist of Rubens or Michael Angelo. The plot or ground-work of their respective dramas is quite different; that of the poet begins where our authoress ends. In this particular, indeed, Miss Mitford is more happy than the lamented bard. Her plot is essentially good; and some of her scenes are conceived in a truly dramatic spirit. Would their filling up were equal to their conception! we must, however, hope for better things in her next. The plot of Foscari is simply this---(the scene and dramatis personæ Venetian): Count Erizzo, the villain of the piece (well conceived and pourtrayed by Mr. Warde), being ambitious of the honors of the state, entertains a malignant jealousy of the Foscari family, the possessors of those honours. To gratify both these passions, he induces senator Donato, an influential man in the state, and the old friend of the Foscari family, |