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vision. A much humbler degree of talent accomplishes disagreeably felt, although want of experience might this task with far greater facility.

fail to suggest the remedy. In like manner, the paper. It is upon these principles that we are inclined to ac- maker may have his own partialities for ribbed paper, count for the disappointment we commonly experience for wove paper, for cream-coloured paper, for thick pain looking over an Annual. For weeks before, our ex- per, or for thin paper; but there is only one sort of papectations have been raised by advertisements of all kinds, per which, under the circumstances, is the paper that and announcements of the splendid preparations which should be used ;—the binder also may prefer plain bind. the editor and publishers are making ; —long lists of names ing, or rich tooling, or crimson, blue, or green silk, but are circulated; and every name is a household word in nothing which he proposes may be exacily that which our lips, and seems in itself a host. But when at length ought to be adopted ;-and the engraver may see beauties the expected volume is put into our hands, and we anxi in certain paintings which no one else sees, and may in. ously turn over leaf after leaf, till we come to the end, sist on making them the subjects of his burine, until a our exclamation, with the countryman in the fable, is superior mind either convinces him of his mistake, or one of mingled regret and surprise,—Quale caput! cere- declines making use of his assistance. When we give brum non habet ! _There is, at the same time, an ele- praise to a book, therefore, for its nearly unequalled ex. gance and grace about these little books-a lucky choice cellence in all these particulars, the praise is of some in the time of their appearance and a pleasant feeling consequence; and certainly a lovelier volume than the

in their intended appropriation,—all of which are apt to “ Keepsake" we could never wish to hold in our hands. soften the critic's heart, and to

It is to the admirable artist, Charles Heath, that it is “ Win the wise, who frown'd before,

chiefly indebted for its exquisite embellishments. Line To smile at last."

engraving was undoubtedly never before carried to the When there were only one or two of these New Year's perfection it has attained in this country within the last Gifts, it was perhaps right to treat them thus leniently ; few years. We do not mean to assert that finer specimens but now that their numbers have so amazingly increased, of the art have been recently produced upon that larger --that so much money is expended on them,--and that so scale, which till lately was rarely deviated from by en. much time is occupied in preparing and in reading them, gravers of celebrity. But the rapidly-increasing taste we are far from thinking that this over-indulgence should for combining pictorial embellishment with literary pro. be continued. Wherever there is competition to so great ductions, and the lucrative employment thus afforded to an extent, it becomes the duty of the public to ascertain artists, have induced an attention to minuteness of detail which of the parties are most entitled to support, and and inimitable delicacy of execution, which have not hiinstead of scattering their unprofitable favours among therto been paralleled. The largest picture is reduced the whole, bestow upon the really deserving a liberal to the size of a duodecimo page, with a degree of accuand steady patronage. We cannot, therefore, in the racy so complete, that the smallest leaf dues not disappresent instance, join with those who repeat the hack pear from a landscape, nor is the slightest shade of difneyed proverb, that " comparisons are odious,” and ference in the expression of the individual features of a refuse to point out any distinctions, because all possess magnificent portrait ever perceived. There is here a a greater or less degree of merit. We think that more very great triumph of human ingenuity ; and it is im. Annuals have been published this year than will ever possible to avoid feeling obligation to the artist who be again ; and as some must perish, we consider it our thus not only gives to perpetuity, but sends into our duty to assign to each its comparative rank, and thus own closet bound up with the books we read, all the give those that deserve it the best chance of remunera

most brilliant creations of painting. Judging by the ting their respective proprietors, both now and after- numerous engravings in the Annuals before us, the perwards. We shall say a few words upon each, and shall sons to whom England is most indebted for their suc. endeavour to point out all the substantially good articles cessful exertions in this way are, Charles Heath, Charles

it contains ;-of the inferior pieces, we shall either be Rolls, E. and W. Finden, E. Goodall, J. II. Robinson, silent, or express in passing our disapprobation. We H. Le Keus, F. Engleheart, F. and E. Poribury, shall take them up not in any particular order ; but J. Romney, R. Graves, J. Goodyear, and one or after reviewing the whole, we shall class them as their two others who, we doubt not, deserve to be named, merits seem to deserve.

though we have not had the same opportunities of discovering their abilities. There are nineteen embellish.

ments in the “ Keepsake," of which Heath himself has The Keepsake, edited by F. M. Reynolds. Hurst,

supplied ten, and on the whole the best,—if we except Chance, and Co. London.

“ Anne Page and Slender,” by Rolls, who is an artist This Annual is of a larger size, and sold at a higher of first-rate talent. It is unnecessary to particularize price, than any of the rest, with the exception of the the engravings which please us mostmihey are all “ Anniversary.” All that it is in the power of typo- beautiful." Lucy and her Bird” is probably the most graphy, paper, binding, and engraving, to do for a commonplace, both in subject and execution ; whilst the book, has been done for the “ Keepsake," of which one portraits of the Duchess of Bedford and Mírs Peel are of the earliest copies that has been sent to Scotland is of that sort which set criticism at defiance. now before us. When we give the “ Keepsake" this Though we have dwelt thus long on the embellish. praise, we say a good deal more than some of our read- ments, we are happy to have it in our power to say, that ers may be inclined at first sight to suspect. It is no the literary contents of the “ Keepsake" are in many easy matter either for editor or publisher, and implies respects little less deserving of notice. None of the An. no trifling degree of taste and judgment, to get up a nuals exhibits so strong a list of names, though several work which, in so far as external beauty is concerned, of them contain a greater number of articles. There is will, in all respects, do honour to the drawing-room of scarcely a contribution in the “ Keepsake” to which a the fairest and the noblest of the land. This is a talent well-known signature is not attached. Sir Walter Scott of itself, which ought not to go unnoticed. Printers, comes first. He has contributed four pieces of

prose, however excellent, may, to the cultivated eye, destroy two of which are little more than anecdotes ; the third the appearance of a whole page, by making the margin is only a new edition of a story he heard many years ago too long or too short by a single line, too broad or too from Miss Seward ; but the fourth is a very powerful and narrow by a single letter, by misarranging a title, by highly graphic sketch, occupying the first forty-four using capitals instead of italics, by inserting a single pages of the book, and entitled " Ny Aunt Margaret's space more or a single space less, by a thousand minute Mirror.” It is a tale of necromancy; and the scene is laid errors of judgment, the general effect of which would be in Edinburgh, about the beginning of the eighteenth

century. It is one of those productions which, however fuller of words than of ideas. There are two sonnets, hurriedly the Author of Waverley may occasionally however, by the same author, which possess much simple write, are continually presenting themselves to convince beauty and force.—Lord Nugent's “ Apropos of Bread” us that no man living possesses the same graphic and ex- is clever, but not quite so good as we had hoped.traordinary powers. The three other pieces are of a much L. E. L. (Miss Landon) has this year wisely written inferior kind. That called the “ Death of the Laird's much less in the Annuals, and consequently what she Jock,” which was written to furnish a subject for the pen- has written is better, and has a more vigorous tone. cil, does not, we think, supply very successfully what was She has two copies of verses in the “ Keepsake," both wanted ; and accordingly, we perceive by Heath's en- of which are good.-Moore is the only living author graving after Corbould, that the attempt to make a fine who seems resolutely to have held out against the picture out of it has entirely failed,—the effect produced temptations offered by the Editors of Annuals. We do is overstrained, disagreeable, and unnatural. Sir Walter not remember ever to have seen a single line of his in Scott is not altogether to blame for this : the incident, any of these books. There is a trifle entitled “Extem. as he relates it, is poetical, but not resting on any known pore" by him in the “ Keepsake,” but we are informhistorical foundation, it does not possess any point sufo ed in the preface it was obtained from a friend, in whose ficiently striking to merit its being embodied on canvass. possession it happened to be—not from the author him. -Some posthumous fragments of Percy Bysshe Shelley self. We are not sure that Moore's conduct is not more next attract our attention. The few remarks, in prose, dignified, and evinces higher self-respect, than that of “On Love," are pregnant with thought, as indeed is those who, from motives either of gain or vanity, allow all that Shelley has ever written. Yet the remarks will their name and productions to be continually bound up not be popular, for the thoughts do not lie at the sur. with so much that is trifling and ephemeral. But this face, and ordinary readers will not give themselves the is matter of opinion, upon which we would not too dogtrouble to penetrate deeper in search of them. There matically insist. If we did, a strong argument would are three scraps of poetry, too, by the same author, which start up against us in Coleridge. He has several contri. we perused with interest ; for all that remains of Shelley butions in the “ Keepsake,"_and one of these, “ The tends to throw some light upon the peculiar idiosyncrasy Garden of Boccaccio," is out of all sight the finest poem of one of the most remarkable and original minds that in the book,-indeed, we regard it as one of the finest this country ever produced. Our readers will be glad to minor pieces which even Coleridge himself, with all his see one of those effusions, which, though on a lighter variety of imagery, and fine flow of strong and original subject, bears the strong impress of Shelley's usual cur. thought, has ever written. We cannot deny ourselves rent of thought :

the pleasure of quoting at least a part of it:

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“ Do you not hear the Aziola cry?
Methinks she must be nigh,"

Said Mary, as we sate
In dusk, ere stars were lit or candles brought;

And I, who thought
This Aziola was some tedious woman,
Ask’d, “ Who is Aziola ?”-How elate
I felt to know that it was nothing human,
No mockery of myself to fear or hate :

And Mary saw my soul,
And laugh’d, and said, “ Disquiet yourself not

'Tis nothing but a little downy owl."
Sad Aziola ! many an eventide

Thy music I had heard
By wood and stream, meadow and mountain side,
And fields and marshes wide,
Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird

The soul ever stirr'd;
Unlike_and far sweeter than them all.
Sad Aziola! from that moment I
Loved thee, and thy sad cry.

From Shelley the transition is easy to his widow-
one of the daughters of Godwin_and well known as
the author of “ Frankenstein,” and “ The Last Man."
She has furnished two tales to the “ Keepsake," writ-
ten in a less wild and gloomy style than that in which
she usually indulges, and bearing evident indications
of a well-cultivated and masculine mind, with here and
there some touches of a softer description, which do as
much credit to the heart as the rest does to the head.-
There is a good deal of poetry from Wordsworth, but
we have seen the bard (as his more enthusiastic admirers
have christened him) to greater advantage. There are
some fine thoughts, sprinkled here and there like flowers
over a meadow, in the pieces alluded to; but between
these thoughts there is too much of the bare sod_or,
to talk less metaphorically, a little of the prolixity and
feebleness of advancing life.

66 The Triad,” in particular, is rather a long poem, and is meant to contain a highly poetical description of three beautiful nymphs ; but to us we confess it is, on the whole, exceedingly mystical and unintelligible, and, moreover, considerably

Of late, in one of those most weary hours,
When Life seems emptied of all genial powers,
A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known
May bless his happy lot, I sate alone;
And, from the numbing spell to win relief,
Call'd on the Past for thought of glee or grief.
In vain! bereft alike of grief and glee,
I sate and cower'd o'er my own vacancy!
And as I watch'd the dull continuous ache,
Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake,
O friend ! long wont to notice yet conceal,
And soothe by silence what words cannot heal,
I but half saw that quiet hand of thine
Place on my desk this exqnisite design,
Boccaccio's garden and its Faery,

The love, the joyance, and the gallantry!
An Idyl, with Boccaccio's spirit warm,
Framed in the silent poesy of form.
Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep,
Emerging from a mist : or like a stream
Of music soft, that not dispels the sleep,
But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream,
Gazed by an idle eye with silent might,
The picture stole upon my inward sight.
The brightness of the world, O thou once free,
And always fair, rare land of courtesy !
O Florence! with the Tuscan fields and hills,
And famous Arno, fed with all their rills;
Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy !
Rich, ornate, populous, all treasures thine,
The golden corn, the olive, and the vine.
Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old,
And forests, where beside his leafy hold
The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn,
And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn;
Palladian palace with its storied halls;
Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls;
Gardens, where fings the bridge its airy span,
And Nature makes her happy home with man;
Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed
With its own rill, on its own spangled bed,
And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head,
A mimic mourner, that, with veil withdrawn,
Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn,


Are they

Thine all delights, and every Muse is thine :

Scotchmen hold in all these Annuals. Without them, And more than all, the embrace and intertwine they certainly would not be what they are. Two of them Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance !

are edited by Scotchmen—“ The Anniversary,” by Al. Mid Gods of Greece and warriors of romance, lan Cunningham, and “ Friendship's Offering,” by See! Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees The new-found roll of old Mæonides;

Thomas Pringle. Then look at the names which shine But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart,

most conspicuously in their table of contents. Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart!

not Sir Walter Scott, Professor Wilson, J. G. Lockhart,

James Hogg, Montgomery, the Rev. Edward Irving, The rest of the contents of the “ Keepsake” may be Kennedy, Malcolm, Moir? The first four names on this mentioned more rapidly. Southey has several better list are in themselves a galaxy; and the rest have each a short poems than he usually produces,-especially one strong light of their own. In so far, then, as any of the entitled “Lucy and her Bird;"_the author of " The Annuals is concerned, we may say with Iago," he Roué," and the author of “ Gilbert Earle," have each a

who filches from me these good names, will make me poor piece of imaginative writing, and each is respectable ;

indeed.” Our Southron friends may perhaps discover Luttrell has given some tolerable rhymes, but not much

an over degree of nationality in these observations ; but poetry ;-Lord Porchester some very polished and elegant they will hardly blame us that we are proud of men of verses “ To a Pearl;"_Thomas Bayly rather an insi- whom the world is proud. pid story called “ A Legend of Killarney;"_Mrs He. The poetry of the “ Anniversary" is considerably su. mans a poem of a more vigorous kind than is common perior to its prose, as was naturally to be expected from with her ;— Theodore Hook a spirited tale called “ The the habits of its editor. Of the latter the only pieces Old Gentleman ;"_Sir James Mackintosh a classical which seem worthy of mention are two ;_" The Cameand interesting paper entitled “Sketch of a Fragment of ronian Preacher's Tale,” by Hogg, a story of strange and the History of the Nineteenth Century,” which is occu- supernatural interest; “ one of those terrible sermons pied principally with an estimate of the character poli- which God preaches to mankind of blood unrighteously tical, intellectual, and domestic, of the late Mr Canning; shed, and most wondrously avenged ;” and told with aủ -Lockhart a very admirable specimen of a translation that upadorned strength of narrative, and clear intuitive from the Norman French, called “ The King, and the perception of the best mode of treating those incidents Minstrel of Ely ;"_and Lord Normanby a very care

that bear upon the superstitious part of our nature, fully finished, and somewhat laboured tale“ Clorinda, which unquestionably make the Ettrick Shepherd the or the Necklace of Pearl.”

best inditer of a ghost story extant ; and “ A Tale There are a few other things from persons of inferior of the Time of the Martyrs,” by the celebrated Edward note, but it is unnecessary to particularize them. To Irving, which, though not in any way very astonishing, the Editor, however, Mr F. M. Reynolds, we have a possesses more vigour, polish, and, what is of still greatsingle observation to make. He has acted wisely in not er consequence, more intelligibleness, than his sermons, pushing himself too obtrusively forward, and one or two orations, or homilies. of his contributions are clever'; but we discover in his As we have already said, the poetry of the “ Anni. style a tendency to occasional coarseness—we might per-versary” deserves more notice than the prose. There haps add vulgarity_which ought to have been most care- is something curious in Edward Irving writing for an fully eschewed in a publication like the “ Keepsake,” Annual, and Cunningham has been fortunate in having and which, in truth, is the only circumstance that de his work made the chosen vehicle for the preacher's tracts from the general elegance of the whole. The lucubrationis ; but far more fortunate is he in having work, however, " take it for all in all,” cannot fail to secured the only contribution with which Professor Wil. be a favourite ; and the enterprisig spirit which has son has, through any channel of this kind, favoured induced the proprietor to expend upon it the enormous

the public.

* Edderline's Dream” is the first canto sum of eleven thousand guineas, will not, we hope, go of a poem, which was at one time complete in six, but unrewarded.

of which the other five have been most unfortunately lost, and we suspect there is some doubt whether they

will ever be re-written. No one can read what has been The Anniversary; or, Poetry and Prose for 1829, edi- preserved, without deeply regretting the accident that

ted by Allan Cunningham. John Sharp, London. has robb.d him of the continuation and conclusion of a

Not less splendid than the “ Keepsake” in outward composition which opens so beautifully. We regret show, though perhaps slightly less perfect in some of the much that Professor Wilson's multifarious pursuits preminutiæ of elegance, the “ Anniversary” presents itself vent him from indulging more frequently in that fine for the first time to the notice of the public. It appears poetical vein he unquestionably possesses. There is in to us, that of all the Annuals, this is the one which pos- his style a richness of imagery, and a fresh unwearying sesses peculiar claims upon the people of Scotland. It is enjoyment of all that is beautiful and sublime in nature, edited by our countryman, Allan Cunningham—a man which are themselves sufficient to form the staple comnot more remarkable for his free, fresh genius, gushing modities of a poem that would delight the fancy and win out like one of his own mountain streams, and natural to the heart. Nothing can be more vivid and spirit-stirring him as the yellow broom is to nis own hills, than for that than the following description of a fine summer morn. artless simplicity of manner, and gentle urbanity of heart, ing : which are ever the concomitants, and most commonly the

Hark! the martlet twittering by leading characteristics, of true genius. He loves his coun

The crevice, where her twittering brood try ardently, and he has not hesitated to breathe over Beneath some shadowy wall-tower lie, the pages of his Anniversary” a sentiment so dear to In the high air of solitude ! his heart. There is a Scottish feeling pervades the work, She alone, sky-loving bird, and wherever it is circulated, it will succeed in a waken

In that lofty clime is heard;

But loftier far from cliff remote ing a mingled respect and esteem for the “ land of the mountain and the flood.” Upon this subject we may,

Up springs the eagle, like a thought,

And poised in heaven's resplendent zone, indeed, remark generally, that it is highly gratifying to

Gazes a thousand fathom down, observe the prominent place which the contributions of

While his wild and fitful cry

Blends together sea and sky; • For some hi hly interesting details of the expense incurred And a thousand songs, I trow, in the publication of these Annuals, we refer our readers to a

From the waken'd world below, communication from London, which they will find in a subse

Are ringing through the morning glow.

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Music is there on the shore,

been a pleasant book to look at, and to read, -light, Suftening sweet the billowy roar; Form and fair in every weather,

airy, and elegant. It would scarcely be fair to expect The seamews shrill now flock together,

that all the young ladies and gentlemen who keep AlOr, theeling off in lonely play,

bums, and buy Annuals, should consent to the labour Carry their pastimes far away,

of exercising much thought in perusing what is written To little isles and rocks of rest,

for their amusement by the numerous joint-stock liter. Scatter'd o'er the ocean's breast,

ary companies of the day. If they can feast upon a sen. Where these glad creatures build their nest. timental love-story, it would be hard to insist on their Now hymns are heard at every fountain,

swallowing Mount Caucasus ;-if their thirst for poetry Where the land birds trim their wings,

is assuaged by a sonnet, it would be cruel to force them And boldly booming up the mountain,

to inhale the whole Red Sea. Why should they not be Where the dewy heath-flower springs,

allowed to live on in their own way?-literary, without Upon the freshening gales of morn Showers of headlong bees are borne,

being particularly learned,-poetical, but not poets, Till far and wide with harp and horn

busy, but not industrious,-intelligible, but not intel.

lectuul. For them the “ Forget-me-Not" is peculiarly The balmy desert rings!

fitted. It contains nothing decidedly weak, and nothing This the pensive lady knows,

decidedly and conspicuously excellent. There are, huwa So round her lovely frame she throws

ever, upwards of a hundred pieces in prose and verse, of The cloud-like float of her array,

which the best are “Eastern Apologues,” by Hoge, and And with a blessing and a prayer

a comic poem, entitled, “ Frolic in a Palace,” by W. She fixeth in her raven hair

H. Harrison. One of the embellishments, too, of which The jewel that her lover gave,

there are fourteen, we must mention. It is the first, The night before he cross'd the wave

an engraving by Le Keux, from a painting by Martin, To kingdoins far away!

on the subject of the self-immolation of Marcus Curtius Soft steps are winding down the stair, And now beneath the morning air

the Roman patriot. It is one of the noblest things we Her breast breathes strong and free;

have seen in any of the Annuals, and contains within it. The sun in his prime glorious hour

self a world of poetry. Martin's conceptions are in geIs up, and with a purple shower

neral possessed of much sublimity, however he may fail Hath bathed the billowy sea !

in individual parts of the execution. In the present in

stance, the splendid temples, and pillars, and citadels, Lo! morning's dewy hush divine

and towers of Rome are finely grouped, and gloriously Iłath calı'd the eyes of Edderline!

canopied by the dark, lurid, thundery sky. Then the Shaded by the glooms that fall

countless multitude of her affrighted inhabitants in the From the old grey castle wall,

streets and open space that surround the yawning gulf Or, from the glooms emerging bright,

which has been rent by the fury of the earthquake, and Cloud-like walking through the light,

which, unless the gods be appeased, is about to desolate She sends the blessings of her smiles O'er dancing waves and steadfast isles,

the whole city, admirably prepares the mind for the emoAud, creature though she be of earth,

tions excited by the figure upon which the eye principal. Ileaven feels the beauty of her mirth.

ly rests. It is Marcus Curtius, mounted on a magnifi

cent white steed, which after being urged to its best speed Is it not to be regretted that in the present silence of the has already leaped full upon the abyss, as if proud to mightiest Lyres, he who can write thus, should so sel. die along with its rider. Curtius sits erect upon its dom awaken the music of his own ?-Several things in back,_his armour on-his shield in one hand, and his the Editor's happiest manner, especially “ The Magic armis extended and thrown upwards, as if, with an Bridle,” “ The Mother Praying,” and “ The Black- heroic smile upon his countenance, he blessed his coun. berry Boy,”—“Three Inscriptions for the Caledonian try, and gladly for its sake looked his last upon the Canal," by Southey,--a “ Dramatic Scene,” by Barry sky of Rome. The effect produced is such, that it is Cornwall, -and “ The Carle of Invertime,” by Hogg, impossible to stop just at this point of time. The make up all the rest of the poetry that it is necessary to imagination instinctively takes a prospective glance, mention. We are sorry to be obliged to add, that there and sees the brave knight fall down-down into the treis a greater mixture of alloy in the “ Anniversary,” mendous chasm,-hears the loud shriek of men who than we could have wished, but we are well aware of the never shrieked before, and the screams of women whom difficulties attendant upon a first effort; and doubt not the sight drives mad. The earthquake rolls away, but that where there is so much promise, the improvement there is silence in the streets and squares of Rome. This in subsequent years will be great. The embellishments, single engraving is more than worth the price of the of which there are twenty, are very splendid; and it “Forget-me-Nou." gives us much pleasure to be able to state that though the work has hardly yet been seen in Scotland, six or seven thousand copies have already been sold.

The Literary Souvenir, edited by Alaric A. Watts.

Longman, Rees, Orme, & Co. London. The Forget-me-Not, a Christmas or New Year's Pre

Under the superintendence of Alaric Watts, a scholar, sont, edited by Frederick Shoberl, Esq. R. Acker- maintained a high rank among publications of this

a poet, and a man of taste the “Souvenir” has always mann, London.

class, and we are happy to have it in our power to say, To Ackermann, the publisher of the "Forget-me-Not,” that the volume for 1829 is the best of the series which we owe the introduction of Annuals into this country ; has yet appeared. and it was in 1823 that the first “ Forget-me-Not ap- Among other attractions, it contains twelve highly. peared. It was joined next year by “ I'riendship's Of- finished and beautiful engravings, scarcely one of which, fering,” and in 1825, by the “ 'Literary Souvenir.” the Editor informs us, has cost less than a hundred Till 1828, these, together with the " Amulet,” which guineas, and several from one hundred and fifty to came out in 1826, kept the field to themselves, but sub- one hundred and seventy guineas each. * The im. sequently a whole host, armed cap-2-pie, have rushed to mense expense,” he adds, "attendant upon the pubthe mclée. The “ Forget-me-Noi” has never possessed lication of a volume containing twelve such embellish. the character of being entitled to very high consideration ments as are here given,--an expense which has lately on the score of its literary pretensions, but it has always been increased by the unusual demand for the talent

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employed in their production, can only be covered by a and the “ Manuscript found in a Madhouse," as a piece sale which, to the ordinary observer, would appear to of graver and more impassioned writing, are our favour. promise a large and certain remuneration. When, ites, and are both by the author of “ Pelham"-a novel however, it is stated that a circulation of less than froin evincing much talent, especially in the third volume. eight to nine thousand copies would entail a serious loss There are also one or two very successful Tales; and a upon its proprietors, it will readily be believed that good lively article by Barry Cornwall—a designation they have been incited to no ordinary exertions. Their by which he is much better known than by his rea) object has been to enable it to compete advantageously, name of Procter-entitled " A Chapter on Portraits." not merely with annual works published at a similar The poetry is supplied principally by Alaric Watts price, but with others of higher pretensions, and of himself, Barry Cornwall, T. K. Hervey, Malcolm, and nearly double its cost. It will be for the public to de- Mrs Hemans. Watts is always graceful, and often vi. termine, after a careful examination of their respective gorous, as in his “ King Pedro's Revenge," in the vomerits, how far this object has been achieved." As a lume before us. Barry Cornwall is unequal, and has portion of that public, we hesitate not to give it as our too much mannerism, but nevertheless in his better opinion that the object has been achieved. The “ Sou. moods possesses much genuine feeling, and displays a

venir" is distinguished both by external elegance and very fair proportion of the divinus afflatus ; T. K. Herintellectual superiority. Several of the engravings have vey has not been enjoying good health, and his improve. never been surpassed. 66 The Sisters,” from a painting ment has consequently scarcely kept pace with his early by Stephanhoff, is out of sight the most beautiful pro- promise, yet at times he produces stanzas full of genius; duction of that artist we ever saw. “ Cleopatra, embark. Malcolm's reputation, despite the retiring modesty that ing on the Cydnus," engraved by E. Goodall, is a vi. courts the shade too much, is steadily increasing, and sion of more then Eastern light and loveliness—most the effusions of his gentle and pensive muse must al. soft and voluptuous, yet producing on the feelings, a ways please ; Mrs Hemans has a style of her own, preg. refining, not an enervating effect. * The Departure of nant with all that is feminine and chastely dignified, Mary Queen of Scots from France," is interesting at once but of that nature which is felt to be somewhat monofrom its own excellence, and the nature of the subject. tonous, when subjected to frequent repetitions ; and " The Proposal" is inimitably engraved by Charles though we should be sorry to miss the soft whisperings Rolls; and the female figure possesses all that sweetness of her lute, we are inclined to advise, for her own sake, and beauty which no one knows better how to give than that for a time she should allow its music to slumber. Leslie. The " Portrait of Sir Walter Scott," by N. Her name has become too hackneyed in the public ear, J. Danforth, after Leslie, we consider very valuable, and her verses too familiar to the public eye; like the and by far the best that has been yet engraved. It bears waters of the fountain of Arethusa, she should disapa striking and favourable resemblance to the illustrious pear for a while, to re-emerge with a clearer and a stronger Author of Waverley; and the only fault we can ob-gush of song.--As we wish to lay before our readers one serve is, that the brow seems a good deal too high. One of the best poems in the “Souvenir," we select the folwould suppose that all the painters who have yet paint- lowing: ed likenesses of Sir Walter Scott, were thorough-paced

AN ADIEU. phrenologists, and being hardly able to understand

By T. K. Hervey. “ How one small head can carry all he knows,"

ADIEU! the chain is shiver'd now they have invariably magnified it to the most unnatural

That link'd my heart and hopes with thine. proportions, and by the external developement have in

I leave thee to thy broken vow

Thy dreams will often be of mine; dicated a quantity of brain within, enough to have ma

And tears-be those the only tears terially altered the centre of gravity of any ordinary

Thine eyes may ever learn to weep, “ The Agreeable Surprise," engraved by H. Shall tell the thoughts to other years Rolls, after J. Green, is perhaps on the whole the most Thy spirit cannot choose but keep! delightful plate of all. There is a Persian splendour in

Adieu ! the scenery, and a rich luxuriance in the figures, espe

Adieu ! enjoy thy pleasant hours, cially in that of the Royal lady writing on the sand

Find other hearts-to fling away! “ With such a small, white, shining hand,

Thy life is in its time of flowers, You might have thought 'twas silver flowing,”

Gather May-garlands while 'tis May! that the pleasant impression left upon the mind more Oh! till the dreary day draws in, than repays the cost of the “ Souvenir.” Delta has And winter settles round thy heart, but feebly illustrated this delightful picture. Amid

And memory's phantom forms begin

To take a wounded spirit's part, so much beauty, there is only one failure. What was

Adieu !
W'estall about when he drew; and when had Charles
Rolls so much time to spare as to engrave; and what Adieu ! thy beauty is the bow
had become of Alaric Watts's taste when he inserted, a

That kept the tempest from thy sky, thing altogether so unworthy as that entitled - She

And all too bright upon thy brow,

The sigh which must so surely die. never told her love ?” A poor, mcagre, plain, pining girl,

These drops—the last for thee !-are shed, lying on the grass, and looking more as if her stomach

To think that there will be not one was out of order than her heart, can hardly be an ob

To love thee when its light is fled, ject of interest even to the most sentimental of all senti.

To shield thee when the storm comes on! mentalists. No wonder “she never told her love," for

Adieu ! we cannot see what right she had ever to fall in love at

Adieu! Oh! wild and worthless all, all . Nature evidently intended her for an old maid, and

The heart that wakes this last farewell! as an old maid she must inevitably live and die, not

Why-for a thing like thee-should fall withstanding the extraordinary degree of patronage My harpings like a passing bell ! which Messrs Westall and Rolls have been good enough Why should my soul and song be sad ! to bestow upon her.

Away-I fling thee from my heart On the literary part of the “ Souvenir," or what is Back to the seltish and the bad, technically termed the letter-press, we could willingly

With whom thou hast thy fitter part ! descant at some length ; but we must “ brid our

Adieu ! struggling muse with pain.' Of the prose articles, Adieu ! and may thy dreams of me "Too handsome for any thing,” as a lighter sketch, Be poison in thy brain and breast,



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