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To life's realities, from which the mind
Flies to ideal worlds, peopling the stars
With shapes of love and beauty-far behind
The truth of their bright mystery, which it mars,
Because it may not pass Fate's adamantine bars.

The blue Pacific of Infinity,

Gemm'd with the sacred islets of the skies-
Each isle a world upon a sapphire sea,
And every world perchance a Paradise!
There only that sweet vision of the wise,
And tuneful of past times, is not a dream;
There only do those blissful isles arise,

Whose fame yet murmurs on the Muse's stream,
But whose proud shades did ne'er on mortal waters gleam.

Say, ye who shone on Zoroaster's eye,
And lit the midnight towers of golden Tyre;
Who smiled more purely, from a softer sky,
On Helen's grave, and Homer's wakeful lyre-
Have ye known all, and must not man aspire
To aught beyond him? Shall no earthly ear
Drink, at dim midnight, from your shining quire,
Empyreal music? Can we not draw near,
And read the starry tale of yon mysterious sphere?

No, for the stamp of clay is on the brow-
The fettered spirit yearns to soar in vain,
And the ambition of man's thoughts must bow
Beneath mortality's recoiling chain.

Yet is it sweet, though we can ne'er attain
The prize we woo, the lofty race to run.
What though it tempt to yon untrodden plain?
The eagle's burning goal can ne'er be won-

But he may pierce the clouds, and feel the nearer sun.

These are verses which we consider above par; and Mr J. Johns will be kind enough to remark, that we by no means consider the others with which they are surrounded contemptible; on the contrary, they would all do for the annuals exceedingly well; but our standard is rather a higher one, and we like to judge by it. We want, first, originality of conception, which shall, at the same time, be true to human nature; and, secondly, vigour of execution. The former is the most important, but neither will do alone. The following little piece perhaps borders on bombast, but it is bold, and we approve of it:

ON A PORTRAIT OF LORD BYRON.

Aye, gaze upon that brow,

That brow which towers an intellectual Alp,

Diadem'd with a pale eternity

"That people live and die, I knew
An hour ago as well as you."

Mrs G. G. Richardson is a mystery altogether, from her motto to her finis,-from head to tail. It is a mystery that any of her " poems" should ever have appeared in the "London Weekly Review," which, we learn from her preface, has been the case; and it is a mystery, (at least in so far as abstract literature is concerned,) that "1700 copies were bespoken previous to their issuing from the press." Mrs G. G, Richardson is, we sup. pose, a very amiable woman, and that is far better than being a very clever poetess. There is one sonnet in the volume which is, on the whole, worth extracting, and

we extract it:

SONNET.

My darling boy! light of my sinking heart,

Through shades of hovering death, still sweet to me! Though from thy dearer father warn'd to part, Death seems more cruel when I gaze on thee! Yet thou (the only one of all I love!)

Wilt sigh not, pause not, drop for me no tear. A broken toy, a scatter'd flower will move

In thee more sorrow than thy mother's bier! Fantastic thought! and yet how strangely sadThat when in death's cold clasp all faded lies Thy youthful mother-once in thee how glad! Thou may'st, as now, gaze on with laughing eyes, Peering on arduous tiptoe o'er her bed,

Unconscious that she never more shall rise!

We leave the rest of Mrs G. G. Richardson's "Poems" to her 1700 subscribers.

Mr David Vedder, come into court. We are given to understand that you are the author of "The Covenanters' Communion," and " other Poems," chiefly sacred, published some months ago by Blackwood, and never heard of since. Now, Mr David Vedder, sorry are we to say that we are not very greatly astonished at this; for "The Covenanters' Communion," although in the Spenserian stanza, is not a particularly good poem. Some of the minor poems are better; and as we said of Mr J. Johns, we think there is poetry in Mr David Vedder, though it has not yet come out exactly in the way we could wish. Our readers may judge for themselves, by the following specimen :

THE SONG OF THE MAGI.
"We have seen his star."

Son of the Highest, we worship thee,
Though clothed in the robe of humanity;

Of Thought's untrodden snow, round which high dreams, Though mean thine attire, and low thine abode, Like Alpine eagles, seem to float, amid

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Gaze

The troubled glory of that eye, where keeps
The soul her cavern'd oracle, and fills
The electric gloom with inspiration!
On the rich lip of passion and of power,
Whose every curl was moulded by strong thought,
Like waters by the tempest! Shrine superb,
Where late a more than kingly spirit found
A worthy dwelling! Men unborn will wish
To have drawn the breath of time with him, as if
It were t' inhale his immortality!

If Mr J. Johns is a young man, which we believe him to be, he may, with pains, make his name better known than it yet is.

The next in order is Mrs G. G. Richardson of Dum

fries. How Mrs G. G. Richardson ever took it into her head to publish a volume of " Poems," (so called,) is a good deal more than we can understand. Nor has the highly appropriate motto upon her title-page thrown any light upon this interesting subject. This motto, the application of which has puzzled us not a little, consists of a couplet from Prior, in these words :

We own thy presence, incarnate God!

We have left the land of our sires afar,

'Neath the blessed beams of thine own birth-star,-
Our spicy groves and balmy bowers,
Perfumed by the sweets of Amra flowers ;-
Our seas of pearl and palmy isles,

And our crystal lake which in beauty smiles;
Our silver streams and our cloudless skies,
And the radiant forms and the starry eyes
That lit up our earthly Paradise!

We have turn'd us away from the fragrant east,
For the desert sand and the arid waste;-
We have forded the torrent and passed the floods,
And the chilly mountain solitudes,
And the tiger's lair and the lion's den,
And the wilder haunts of savage men ;-
Till thine advent star its glories shed,
That shelters, Lord, thy blessed head!
On the humble roof and the lowly bed,
Son of the Highest! we worship thee,
Though thy glories are veil'd in humanity;
Though mean thine attire, and low thine abode,
We hail thine advent, eternal God!

T. B. J. of Glasgow, thou who dedicatest thy "Lament of the Wandering Jew, with other Poems," to that unknown personage, "D. R. R.," stand up before us. Nay, man! never hide thy face! We have good hopes of thee. Thou art young, we are sure; and there is a good deal of the freshness of young genius about thee. We mean not to insinuate that thou wert born a Byron; but thou wert not born a weaver. There is thought here, there is a natural flow of expression, that disdains to clip its words into prettinesses; and there is a frank and easy step, that knows not the mincing gait of affectation. It is a good bold fluttering of an infant pinion,irregular, it is true, and often far short of the point it aims at, but nevertheless already emulous of the blue sky, a considerable way above the smoke of Glasgow. The "Lament of the Wandering Jew" thus begins:

I.

The one of whom I sing was not a youth,
But of his age no man could truly tell;
He seem'd a wanderer on earth, forsooth
He had not any home wherein to dwell;-
He loved the lonely scenes of nature well.

Some call'd him a misanthropist, and some Thought that he had a very sulph'rous smell; Others call'd him an exile, just come home, Who found his fortunes and his friendships fled, Sire, sister, loves-all sleeping with the dead.

II.

Howe'er it be, from all I ever knew,
This of his history, at least, appears
To be correct;-he was a Christian Jew,
With the peculiar traits his nation bears;
And he was born of woman; for tho' tears

Had long since left his cheeks, yet they were seen Deep-channel'd with the floods of other years;

And when his mem'ry turn'd to what had been, He was remark'd to sigh, and look so sad And wild, that many deem'd the wanderer mad.

III.

He walk'd with downcast look, forever bent
To earth, as if he sought a dwelling there;
By night, near gaping graves and dells he went,
And seem'd to talk with spirits in the air:
By moonlight, forth he used to fondly fare,
And men and nations' fates read in the stars;
And often in his visions did appear

Famine and discords, pestilence and wars:
He also loved the lone and lashing sea,-
Its wild waves with his soul held sympathy.

IV.

Those who observed him, say he seldom smiled;
But there were moods, when, full of ecstasy,
His soul glowed, and his every look was mild→
Mirth on his tongue, and music in his eye.
His converse being not with men, his joy

Or grief was in his heart; it did inspire Strange feelings; 'twas a churchyard, where did lie Buried, hopes, loves, and friendships; but his lyre He sometimes touch'd, to scare their ghosts away, And thus of chance and change I heard this lowly lay. The "lowly lay" contains many excellent stanzas ; some a little too much à la Byron, but others in which there is no imitation. A plague is described well, though here and there rather coarsely, the great law of change in all material things is well illustrated, and the apostrophe to wealth is spirited and good. Of the minor poems none are perfect, yet all contain something that pleases. Take, for example, the following:

LINES TO LUCY.

What's Beauty? Is it an open brow, Sloping and pure as a wreath of snow; Luxuriant tresses of auburn hair,

Shaded divinely, or curled with care;

Eyes of azure, that seem to smile;
Eye-brows arch'd in the Grecian style;
Cheeks bright as a radiant ray

Of the blushing west in a summer day;
Lips like roses just in time

To be pluck'd from off their parent stem;
Skin soft as Silesian silk;

Breath like fragrance of honey and milk;
A neat, a sloping, a slender waist;
A budding bosom, and heaving breast?
Oh no! these well may have the art
To win, but never to keep the heart.
Give me a bright and a snowy brow,
If the thoughts are pure that dwell below;
And auburn ringlets, if they shade
A well-developed and cultured head;
Give me an eye of heavenly blue,
If the glance it gives is pure and true;
Eye-brows like the bow above,

If they bend o'er woe with looks of love;
Cheeks that smile like an April ray,
But flee not so false and so fast away;
Lips like rose-buds on their stem,
If the dews of truth do sit on them;
O! give me a bosom like that of the dove,
If it is as fair and as full of love!
These are the beauties have had the art,
My Lucy, to win and keep my heart.

We are pleased also with the following simple Dirge:

DIRGE.

My Love! sleep on, sleep on!

I will carve thee a stone,

And smooth for thee a quiet grave;

I will see thee soft and warmly laid,
With a pillow of down beneath thy head;
I wish I were a willow to wave,
And lull thee asleep with its tender tone,
And weep over thee: sleep on! sleep on!
My Love! sleep on, sleep on!
At the set of the sun,

When nature comes with lonely hours,
The glow-worm then shall his lamp illume,
To cheer the darkness around thy tomb;

And I will strew thy sod with flowers,
Till I rest with thee, dear departed one;
My darling Billy, sleep on! sleep on!

If "T. B. J." chooses to send us a few poetical contributions for the "Edinburgh Literary Journal," we shall be glad to keep his initials before the public; and we take the liberty of informing his friends in Glasgow, that he is one of the few poetical geniuses of which that great and wealthy mercantile city can boast.

The "Songs from the Dundee Courier " are very respectable lucubrations, though they will scarcely rival those of Burns. We quote one of them:

LORD SPYNIE.

(From a Tradition of the Seventeenth Century.)

I.

Lord Spynie, ye may pu' the rose,
And spare the lily flower,
When ye gang thro' the garden green,
To woo in lady's bower;
And ye may pu' the lightsome thyme,
And leave the lonesome rue;
For lang and sair will the lady mourn
That ye gae there to woo.

II.

For ye will look and talk of lave,

And kindly, kindly smile,

And vow by Grace, an' a' that's gude, And lay the luring wile.

'Tis sair to rob the bonnie bird

That makes you melodie

'Tis cruel to win a woman's luve,

And no hae luve to gie!

III.

I wadna hae your wilfu' hand,

Tho' a' the earth were thine!
Ye've broken mony a maiden's peace-
Ye've mair than broken mine.
I wadna hae your faithless heart-
'Tis nae your ain to gie;
But, gin ye ever think o' Heaven,
Oh! ye maun think of me!

The number of persons floating about society, who write poetry, is very great; and, however we may be tempted to speak of them when we speak critically, we beg to say most explicitly, that, as men, Christians, and fellow-countrymen, and whether they be Christians and fellow-countrymen or not, we have an esteem for them all. The very feeling which prompts to write poetry implies something good in the character-something ingenuous and warm-hearted. No cold cunning villain ever wrote a line of poetry in his life. Crimes have no doubt been committed by poets, but more rarely than by others, and never of that darker dye to which previous calculation gave birth, and out of which there is no hope of redemption. Prudence is a great and godlike virtue, but it should be spiced with enthusiasm; let the passions be properly regulated, but let them have free scope they are the invisible wings that lift us above this grosser earth. The proper cultivation of poetry is nearly akin to the proper cultivation of all the finer dispositions of

our nature.

A Treatise on the Nature and Cure of Intestinal Worms of the Human Body, arranged according to the class ification of Rudolphi and Bremser, and containing the most approved Methods of Treatment, as practised in this Country and on the Continent. By Wm. Rhind, Surgeon, Member of the Royal Medical Society. Edinburgh. Oliver and Boyd. 1829.

minthology-a subject of very considerable importance, which has nevertheless been hitherto much neglected. Dr Hooper is indeed the only writer who has in this country investigated it with any minuteness; but his paper, in the memoirs of the London Medical Society, although a very excellent one, as our author observes, is very incomplete. On the Continent, Professors Rudolphi and Bremser devoted their attention to the subject, and perfected a system of Helminthology which naturalists and physiologists have generally adopted. We need scarcely also allude to the other continental works of Fischer, Block, Zeder, and Brera. From foreign sources only, therefore, could the English student derive the information he might want on this subject, and Mr Rhind has very wisely stepped forward with the intention of supplying this desideratum, and has presented us with, in every respect, a very excellent and valuable work.

Our attention is first of all directed to the manner in which worms are supposed to originate, in the living body, and to solve this difficulty two questions are suggested-First, Do the worms derive their existence from eggs conveyed into the body through the medium of food, drink, air, &c.? Or, secondly, have they their origin by what is called primitive or spontaneous formation? As Dr Bremser observed, it is difficult to conceive how they can derive their existence from eggs conveyed by the medium of the aliments, the water, or air, since they are found, as is the case most frequently with the hydatid, in those cavities of the body where no external opening or abscess could have been afforded them. The hydatids, says Laenec, are always enclosed in a cyst, which completely separates them from the surrounding parts; these cysts are frequently of a fibrous nature, but frequently there are found in them portions of a cartilaginous, or bony character." There have been brain, in the lungs, in the liver, the biliary ducts, and even worms, says our author, (Rhind, p. 14,) found in the in the heart itself; and Hopkinson and Morgan discoIn addition to our reviews of those productions which vered a species of worm (the falaria papillosa) in the anwe continually meet with in the more flowery vales of terior chamber of a horse's eye. We find also, in the tenth literature, we purpose, as our readers may have perceived volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society, another devoting occasionally a portion of our columns to the worm described by Captain Brown, (the ascaris pelluci notice of those scientific works which have a general dus,) which also inhabits the eyes of horses in India, and and popular interest. Many persons, we know, allow may be seen swarming about in the aqueous humour poets, novelists, and essayists, of every age and every with great activity. Worms have unquestionably been tongue, to slumber peacefully on their shelves, and found in the intestines of the foetus, and Blumenbach prefer exploring those regions of science in which truth, saw a tœnia in a new-born foal. The experiment of simple and unadorned, arrests the attention, and in-Schreiber is also adduced, who fed a polecat for six weeks vites us to contemplate, by her sacred light, those interesting phenomena which Nature, jealous of her own dignity, has shrouded from the eye of the mere passing idler. Let Imagination, therefore, at times close her expanded wings, and, like the eagle to the barren rock, descend upon a ruder soil, to explore and acquire a knowledge of those isolated facts which vary and extend the sources of our information-at the same time improving and exalting the human intellect, by enabling it to perceive more distinctly, and understand more fully, those wonders which demonstrate the existence and infinite wisdom of our Creator. There is no department of science, taking that word in its most extensive sense, which is not replete with the most curious and interesting facts, which need only to be communicated in a simple and popular form to command universal attention, though the scholastic jargon of some philosophers, and the unmeaning technicalities of others, have thrown difficulty and darkness on the face of almost every inquiry. Let these, the common harbingers of ignorance, be dispersed like clouds, and the naked light of truth will then shine full around us. It is from such considerations that we have determined, in discussing scientific subjects, to maintain as simple a style of diction as possible;-and now to business.

with milk, containing the eggs, and also the various species of intestinal worms; yet after some time, when the animal was killed, not a worm was found in its body. Opposed to this, however, is the experiment of Pallas, who introduced the eggs by a small incision into the abdominal cavity of a dog, in which instance, after the expiry of a month, he found young tonia in the cavity.

The hypothetical explanation which has been founded on the second question, referring the formation of the worm to spontaneous generation, is warmly combated by our author. If in this manner they derived their origin, how happens it, he asks, that they should be of such different species and forms, and inhabit different portions of the intestines-one kind feeding only on pure chyle, another on fæculent matter? How should those inhabiting the same place, feeding on the same aliment, differ so remarkably in their size and structure? "If we admit," he observes, "that an animal having a perfect and complicated structure-furnished with a head-a stomach-an intestinal canal, &c. could be formed by any spontaneous action, or combination of animal particles, there would be no end to theory.” A field of meadow grass, by the spontaneous arrangements of its particles, "might produce an ox; or the fermenting dunghill charged with animal particles in abundance, might The work at present under review is devoted to Hel-be the matrix from whence sprang the hog that feeds on

it." On this subject, as on many others, the speculative theorist is entirely at a loss; neither of the above explanations are satisfactory; nor can we agree with the author, that the "ovula or eggs of these animals may be carried to those cavities, by the absorbent vessels, or by some of those animals puncturing and entering the external skin, as is supposed to be the case with the filaria medinensis, or Guinea worm."

In the succeeding sections of this truly interesting and valuable work, Mr Rhind proceeds to give a succinct account and description of the different species of worms which are found in the alimentary canal, and other cavities and textures of the body. The symptoms and methods of cure are then considered. The work, we should add, contains six plates, descriptive of the structures of the different worms, the drawings of which have been executed by Captain T. Brown, with a fidelity and accuracy deserving the highest praise. In conclusion, it only remains for us to state our conviction, that Mr Rhind's work is decidedly the best that has appeared in this country on Helminthology, and we recommend it, without any hesitation, to our medical readers, and those who interest themselves in natural history.

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may be recognised even in most of their lighter productions, may have its source in the national character; but both, it seems to us, may be traced to the influence of the Universities on the origin and progress of German literature-an influence more deeply rooted, and more pervading than we find exercised by similar institutions in any other country. However this may be, the predilection for systematic exertion must always operate beneficially on the higher orders of intellect. It concentrates and regulates the faculties in their developement and application, it counteracts the inclination, more or less strongly felt by all, to dissipate their energies amid too great a variety of undertakings.

Upon minds of a smaller calibre, however, the effects of this systematic turn are sometimes ludicrous enough. There is scarcely, in Germany, a retailer of the most valueless second-hand literary small talk-scarcely a collector of impressions of seals-or a hunter of autographs, but must arrange the products of his labours with all the pomp and parade of a scientific classification. They will make a science of any thing. Our re. spected instructor in the manège, (at a University that shall be nameless,) not contented with being master of his art, and one of the best practical instructors we know, must needs philosophise upon it. He delivers annually a short course of lectures; in which, from an accurate detail of the anatomy of the human body, and of the horse, he proceeds to evolve, with logical precision, the principles of the equestrian art.

These are the extreme effects of the spirit of system: but there is a middle class, its operation upon whom it is, perhaps, still more important to notice. We mean upon that body, which, in every nation where literature is cultivated, must necessarily form the bulk of its literary men-individuals of respectable and carefully improved, but by no means extraordinary talent. The attention to systematic arrangement, of which we are speak

Through the agency of steam-boats, the Rhine is likely, ere long, to become as familiar to Englishmen as the Thames. A trip to Rotterdam, and from thence to Mayence or Frankfort, is now little more than the affair of a week. The most picturesque part of the Rhine is between Cologne and Mayence;-below Cologne the scenery is not so much German as Dutch; and above Mayence the banks, though richly cultivated, are tame and flat. The Panoramic View, now before using, frequently gives to the works of this class in Gerin the shape of a map, of that portion of the river most worth seeing, is upon a large and distinct scale. All the towns, old castles, islands, mountains, and other remarkable objects, are set down; and, by referring to the Steam-boat Companion, which accompanies the map, every requisite information is obtained. We conceive that every traveller, wishing to enjoy the scenery of the Rhine, should take this Panoramic View of it along with him; and even those who never leave their own fire-side, may, by its assistance, form a very accurate notion of the beauties of that romantic river, and cease to wonder why Lord Byron should so enthusiastically have said,

"Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! a vain adieu!
There can be no adieu to scene like thine;
The mind is coloured by thy every hue;
And if reluctantly the eyes resign
Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!
'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise;
More mighty spots may rise-more glaring shine,
But none unite, in one attaching maze,
The brilliant, fair, and soft,-the glories of old days."

FOREIGN LITERATURE.

This pa

many, an appearance of profundity and interest, even
where the thoughts are neither original nor striking, nor
the important facts either new or numerous.
rade of system has a different effect upon two sets of
tyros in German literature. The one carried away by
its specious show, frequently attribute to the mass of
German literati a greater degree of genius than they
possess. The other, finding this show occasionally hol-
low, reckon it to the whole nation for pedantry and af-
fectation. The truth is, that this devotion to system is
merely the dress of the country, and by no means a ne-
cessary indication either of deep thought on the one
hand, or of affectation of it on the other.

There is enough of this characteristic of his countrymen in Mr Bernays' book to have induced us to write him down a German, even had he not announced the fact in his dedication.

The contents of the work, both original and selected, are arranged with a degree of care and precision, that few English anthologists would have dreamed of. It contains, in the first place, a historical outline of German poetry, placed there for the purpose of giving the student a general idea of the whole body of poetry, from which Mr Bernays has selected his specimens. This is followed by a list of all the German poets, from the time of Opitz, (about the commencement of the 17th German Poetical Anthology; or Select Pieces from the century,) down to the present day. They are classed principal German Poets; accompanied with Notes each under that branch of poetry in which Mr Bernays for the use of Students; and preceded by an Histori-is of opinion that he excelled. This is again followed cal Sketch of German Poetry, a List of the most dis- by a concise account of the authors of the poems continguished Poets, and short Notices of the Authors tained in the anthology. They are arranged in alphaselected. By A. Bernays. London. Messrs Treut-betical order. Lastly come the selections themselves,

tell and Co. 1829.

THE Germans have this, among other peculiarities, that whatever they undertake, must be done systematically, on scientific principles. This tendency, which

most conscientiously arranged according to the four ancient and approved divisions-Narrative, Descriptive, Didactic, and Lyric poetry.

This arrangement is well conceived, and susceptible of being made the medium for conveying much valua

ble information. Our readers must, however, be aware, from what we have said above, that we are not inclined to lay much stress on the best-planned and most promising system, until we have seen with what kind of materials the outline is filled up. It still remains, therefore, to inquire, in how far Mr Bernays, in respect to extensive reading, sound judgment, and good taste, has shown himself adequate to the task he has undertaken.

donable, he has omitted names that have exercised a most beneficial influence on German poetry.

We cannot say much in praise of the taste for poetry evinced by Mr Bernays in his selections. That some of them are beautiful is certain; but an overwhelming majority cannot be considered as fair specimens of German genius, nor have they even the merit of being characteristic. He seems, instead of culling from the best, and most classical authors, to have avoided them as far as decently could, and to have collected his chief stores among the second-rate contributors to second-rate journals and annuals.

On the whole, we are inclined, from our inspection of this book, to regard its author as a man of respectable acquirements but more a man of education than natu

With regard, then, to the degree of erudition dis-he played in the "historical outline," this is a point as to which we are rather chary of committing ourselves. It conveys much information, not easy to be had in England; and more than this, the leading facts are correctly enough stated. But in these days of Encyclopædias, Dictionaries, and compendia of all sorts and sizes, (toral talent. From the sphere of teaching into which he say nothing of Reviews and Literary Journals,) it is so easy to show an intimate acquaintance with most recondite subjects, that no faith can be given to the most appalling display of citations. We waive, therefore, this delicate inquiry, except in so far as to notice the rather suspicious circumstance, that the antiquarian part of the narrative the part which affords the most scanty materials, but which has been most frequently presented to the public in a condensed form is more full and satisfactory than the part which professes to give a sketch of modern literature, where the materials are more abundant, but where, for the want of a good synopsis, he was thrown, in a great measure, on his own resources his own research and judgment.

It is but justice to Mr Bernays to notice, that he may here allege, in his defence, the necessary brevity of his outline. Although we cannot help thinking, that he would have better consulted the interest of the student, by retrenching all of his narrative that precedes the controversy between the Swiss and Saxon schools of criticism about the middle of the eighteenth century. All that relates to the Swabian poets of the middle ages has, for that class of readers for whom the work is compiled, neither use nor interest. They had been so completely forgotten amid the internal convulsions of the empire, that when the literary spirit again awoke in Germany, it formed itself not on these forgotten relics, but on the contemporary literatures of France and England. When the works of the Minnesänger and their contemporaries were, at a late period, raked out from the lumber of neglected libraries, the modern literature of Germany was too far advanced, had already acquired too decided a character, to be materially affected by the discovery. We do not mean to deny the merits of these old bards, but they are a distinct literature—almost a distinct language-from that of modern Germany-and their proper place is not in the work before us.

The same strong objection does not apply to Opitz and others, whom we, in like manner, propose to exclude. They wrote the same dialect, and were the immediate precursors of the modern poets of Germany. But the intellectual exertion of their age is so trifling, their individual merits are really so subordinate, that the knowledge acquired of them certainly does not compensate for the condensation of the history of a later, busier, and brighter age, necessarily consequent upon

their mention.

His account of this later period is indeed meagre in the extreme. He mentions, it true, the leading schools, and the time of their first appearance; but he does not even hint at the progress in knowledge, refinement, or at the peculiar social or political relations and changes which gave them birth and form. And, without such knowledge, we can have no idea of the characteristics of any of them. We do not think that his appreciation of the individual character of many of the poets is either correct or happy. We think, too, that in enumerating the disciples of the different schools, he has classed many of them erroneously. Lastly, and what is most unpar

seems to have got, we are inclined to believe him well qualified for that profession. His book is well adapted for a text-book; and, had it made no higher pretensions, should have been allowed to pass; but it is held forth, at the same time, as a "literary guide" to more advanced students; and to have bestowed on it, in this point of view, more unqualified approbation than we have done, would have been gross flattery. We are not inclined, from this specimen, to augur success in the higher work which he anticipates in the end of his advertisement, nor can we, in conscience, advise him to undertake it.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A PARSONAGE.

66 THE OCCASION."

THERE are some subjects of so sacred and solemn a character, that they are deemed beyond the province of periodical writing, in the same way that there are some books of so spiritual and religious a cast, that it would be looked upon as a work of supererogation to peruse them upon any other day than on Sabbath. Now all this, in my humble estimation, is nonsense. For my own part, I have felt fully as much of the intensity and reality of true and overpowering religious feeling of a spring morning at sunrise-of a summer evening at sunset-of a moonlight night, when the wide earth lay, at twelve o'clock, bright and glittering with snow-of a merry-meeting, when the friend I loved had returned safe and sound, and all true-hearted—of a revival after severe and dangerous affliction, when every object around me seemed springing by inches into dimensions and activity, as I have experienced, with all appliances and means to boot, when the worshipping congregation stood in solemn pause, or the listening audience appeared to hang, in unbreathing attention, upon the preacher's lips.

It is on such grounds, and for such reasons, as these, that I have resolved to refresh the recollection of my readers with one of the most solemn and impressive scenes which the service of our national church possesses, I mean the dispensation of the sacrament of the supper, in the ordinary language of the people designated" The Occasion." I speak not at present of field "occasions," with light white clouds overhead, pure streams underneath, a green glen, and a sheep-pastured hill-side ;-I speak not of the storm, and the rock, and the mountain, under night, and amidst tempest ;-nor do I claim the advantage of any peculiarity, or extraordinary circumstance or occurrence, whatever; I merely aim to impress you with two or three features, or lineaments, of sacramental devotion, as exhibited in country congregations in particular. Since there are many who will not, or care not, to contemplate the beauty of

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