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LITERARY CRITICISM.

been received with general admiration, than the acknowledged father of a whole library of works, all of which are passing smoothly down the current of oblivion,

freighted with the heavy freight of leaden mediocrity. Tales of the Great St Bernard. In three volumes. Lon- One cause why the literature of the present day is so don : Henry Colburn. 1828.

much shallower, and therefore necessarily so much more Me CROLY, the author of these tales, has won unto ephemeral, than that of an earlier date, is, that there is himself a name; but we are inclined to suspect, that

now a far greater demand for books than there used to on the strength of that name he has of late years been literary appetite must be satisfied some way or other.

We are a reading people ; and the cravings of our writing too much. This is a great error ; but it is one into which authors of the present day are continually The question is, not where the most costly food can be falling. With only one or two exceptions, they have had, but where food of any kind is to be soonest found. all written too much. Instead of allowing their genius The many-mouthed public stand gaping round the doors to rest like a fountain, deep, unruffled, and pellucid, of their publishers ;-if they would have patience, somewithin its own green margin, and for ever reflecting the thing recherché would be cooked for them ; but they glad faces of those who first discovered, and still delight their friends the authors to supply them, for the love of

will not have patience, and so the publishers beseech to haunt it, they have idly thought of enhancing its vaIne by allowing it to dribble through a dozen long agri- without considering what they are about, stuff into the

heaven, with whatever comes to hand. The authors, cultural ditches, where the pure water becomes muddy and scanty, and the well froin which it sprang “ splen- gestible edibles. These are, perchance, swallowed at

maws of the hungry monster all sorts of bitter and indi. didior vitro," " unde loquaces

first; but as soon as their unpalatable lavour is disco. Lymphæ desiliunt,"

vered, the monster turns upon the hapless author, and

tears him into a thousand pieces. is choked with weeds, and deserted by its votaries. The great number of periodicals, many of which pay There was an age when men read too much, and wrote well, is another reason why the energies of numerous too little, when they stored their own minds with an clever men are prevented from arriving at maturity. undigested mass of things, but did not cultivate the art Every body knows that if wine be drawn off the cask as of communicating their knowledge to others. But that soon as made, it may be very pleasant to the taste, but it age has long been past. The smallest quantity of know- possesses little potency,—it wants that rich and strongly. ledge, and the very last dregs of an exbausted imagination, embodied relish, that cool and manly vigour, that rough are now considered quite enough to form the materiel of and racy burr, which it is almost sure to acquire after three goodly octavos. With more than the gold-beater's being allowed to lie a long lustrum " in the deep-delved assiduity, the tiniest piece of the precious metal-thought, earth.” It is the same thing with man's intellectual is thumped and hammered till it cover a whole acre of powers. If there be too speedy and constant a drain upon paper ;-one idea, bordering on originality, serves for a inem, it is absolutely necessary that they should be wiredozen pages; and one incident, betraying a distant in- spun, in order to make them last at all. “A rolling stone," dication of invention, amply fills out a volume, like the says the proverb, “ gathers no fog;"and if all that comes single tea spoonful of preserved fruit which the skilful in by the eyes and ear3 must immediately go out again pastry-cook places in the centre of the vast circumference at the point of the pen, a certain degree of quickness, of a paff-tart. The opinion, indeed, of most living au- versatility, and cleverness, may be exhibited, but depth thors seems to be, that they must take the temple of and breadth, an overmastering power of mind and imaFame by storm, and that the ladder by which they must gination, rarely or never. The general rule, therefore, scale its walls ought to be made of their own works piled unquestionably is, that no very voluminous author, and on the top of each other. They might spare their pains; no very constant and professional writer in periodicals, for the temple is not to be taken by storm. If they ever is to be compared with the mightier spirits of former get into it, whom will they find there? Homer with days, however valuable a contributor to the literary ha. only two books, his Iliad and Odyssey ; Virgil with bits and enjoyments of the present generation. Put Baonly one, his Æneid, Pastorals, and Georgics, bound con-put Locke--but Gibbon--put Hume-put Burke up in the same volume ; Dante, Ariosto, Tasso, Milton, -put Dr Samuel Johnson in the midst of a coterie of Gray, and a hundred others, with the labours of their some of our “ very clever men,” and how pigmy-like immortal lives held easily in their unburdened hands. would the said clever men appear beside the resuscitated It is quite proper shat an author who has never acquired giant, whose far sterner studies led to far higher results, any reputation at all should write all sorts of books, the grasp of whose mind was like that of the iron-glaive, apon all manner of subjects, in the hope that at last he whose words descended like the hammer of the Cyclops, may inake a lucky hit, and obtain a name; but let the and whose perspicacious thoughts “summered high upon writer who has already gained distinction beware how he the hills of God,” where the petty novelists, the chirp. trifles with it. It is a thousand tinies more respectable ing poets, and the barking critics of our age, in which to be the author of a duodecimo of twenty pages that has external polish is regarded more than inward substance,

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dare not lift their enfeebled eyes. We love those vener- The scene is laid in modern Greece and Turkey, and able and sinewy ancients, and can almost fancy them in we are treated with all the usual barbaric horrors of as. the repose of their strength, leaning over the battlements sassinations, battles, stranglings, and so forth, which we of heaven, and with a calm smile viewing far below the confess are little to our taste. The third tale appeared skirmishes of us petty men.

a year or two ago in one of the Annuals ; it is a clever, If there be aught digressive in these remarks, Mr lively sketch, called " The Red-nosed Lieutenant.” Of Croly must bear the blame, for they were suggested by the rest, “ The Married Actress," which has also apseeing him before us as a teller of tales. It is several peared in one of the Annuals, is the best. The others are years since Mr Croly distinguished himself as a poet ; called “The Patron Saint," " The Locked-up Beauty,” and it is certainly as a poet that we are still disposed to and “ The Conspirator.” think he principally excels. A poet's laurels, however, There are two defects in Mr Croly's tales, which we though they have a comfortable sensation on the brow, suspect he will not be able easily to get rid of, else he do not always produce the same comfortable feeling in would never have fallen into them. The first is, that he the pocket. They are not to be ate, but only to be looked does not understand how to arrange a plot, and the second, at, like the fruit in a fruiterer's window. A poem is that he has not the art of giving interest to individual published ; the impression is a thousand copies ; the re- character. Wherever he writes generally and descripviewers praise it to the skies; with the exception of a tively, he much excels the common run of novel-writers; few scores, every copy is sold ; the author dreams of re- but he cannot get up a story with any thing like dratiring to a country estate, and, hoping to enjoy his otium matic effect, and he seems to want a knowledge of those cum dignitate for the rest of his life, orders his printer, attributes which ought to be given to his heroes and paper-maker, binder, and publisher, to make out their heroines, in order to win for them the reader's affections.

The printer's demand is nearly double the We shall present only one specimen of Mr Croly's style. original estimate ; but then the author is requested to It is from his “ Introduction,” where his writing is enremember, that his corrections were scarcely less expen- tirely descriptive, and consequently good. The extract sive than the original setting up ;-the paper-maker sup- may be entitled plied paper which had never before been equalled for

LIFE ON THE GREAT ST BERNARD. beauty, and at nineteen shillings a-ream he has absolutely no profit at all ;-the binder regrets extremely "If I could be a summer monk, and change my rows, that the recent rise in leather, and in his workmen's was like my clothes, with the winter, I know no fraternity ges, makes it necessary to charge considerably higher than that offers stronger temptations than the Augustins of usual;--and the publisher, after deducting his thirty-five the Saint Bernard. To escape the bustle of the world, per cent, and other reasonable charges, finds that he is yet be in the world ; to have moving before our eyes an due to the author the sum of L.3, 98. 6d., and having still easy succession of society—a constant living phantas. some copies of the first edition on hand, cannot con- magoria, often highly piquant, and always amusing ; scientiously advise the publication of a second. The to indulge in literature, without the toils of authorship, poet either finds his revenge in a small quantity of arse- the teasing of dilettanti, or the agonies of exulting criti. nic, a phial of laudanum, or a moderate dose of prussic cism ; to ramble over a sun-clad kingdom of mountains, acid, or flings his muse into the fire, and writes a novel with the kingship undisputed, among all the royal and every ten days to that “most liberal and enterprising of heroic strugglers for a grave ten thousand feet below; all booksellers,” Mr Henry Colburn.

to sit on rocks, and muse o'er food and fell;' to turn We do not know whether some such motive first drew painter, poet, pilgrim, and dreamer, at one's own dis. Mr Croly from his "Angel of the World,” and “Gems cretion, and without having the fear of living man be. from the Antique,” into the Green-room with his comedy fore our eyes ; and to do all this with the saving and of “ Pride shall have a Fall," and from thence into a singular consciousness, that we are doing some good in mystical theological investigation of the A pocalypse, and our vocation, that humanity is the better for us, and from thence into a three-volumed “story of the past, the that our place would be missed among mankind.-U10present, and the future,” called “ Salathiel," and from pia might grow pale to the beatitudes of the little repub. thence again into “ Tales of the Great St Bernard,” lic under the protection of St Augustin, and the shadow grave and gay, historical and descriptive. But what. of Mont Velan, existente a state. ever effect all this wandering may have on Mr Croly's “ But summer is, unfortunately, a rare guest, and its purse, we hardly think it will enhance his reputation, visit one of the shortest possible duration. The sunexcept in so far as it will prove him possessed of more shine that subdues the plain, with the fidelity of a wife, versatility than commonly belongs to poets. But ab. is, at the famous Hospice, capricious as a first love. I stract versatility is nothing, unless it be a versatility of had entered its walls on a day made in the prodigality excellence. There are seven tales in the three volumes of the finest season of the year. The snowy scalps of before us, and though all more or less amusing and cle- the hills were interspersed with stripes of verdure, that ver, we cannot say that any of them struck us as parii. had seen the light for the first time within memory; the cularly brilliant. The first is, on the whole, the best. bee, that, more than all creation beside, gives assurance It is entitled “ The Squire's Tale,” and contains a good of summer to my ear, was roaming and humming away deal of smart and, we think we may say, able writing among the thistle-down and mosses, that even the AlpThe great and vulgar error, however, which pervades it, ine frost is not always able to kill. I could imagine, in is that its whole object is to inculcate that wealth must the air that passed in slight gusts from time to time, necessarily bring misery, even to those who had always the odours of the Italian flowers. I lingered long at enjoyed a competence, and who possess well-cultivated the gate of the convent, enjoying the magnificent sereand steady minds. There is no plot in this tale ; it is nity of the sky, the air, and the hills, and felt no trivial merely a series of incidents to show the embarrassments reluctance at abandoning so alluring a contemplation in which a worthy man was involved, along with his for a corridor crowded with servants, and a chamber imfamily, in consequence of becoming worth twenty thou- bedded in a wall as thick as if it had to stand a siege. sand pounds a-year. Probability is continually outraged, Even the indulgence of the convent table could not wean and we feel therefore dissatisfied, even where most pleased me from the conviction that I could have got through with the author's ingenuity and cleverness. The second my travel pleasantly enough, though the Hospice had, tale, which is called “ Hebe,” and is the longest of the like the Santa Casa, been transported on the backs of whole, has a tremendously complicated and confused angels to some new Loretto, many a league and far.' plot, and, though containing some powerful scenes and " But I had not been two hours under its roof before a vivid descriptions, is to us very dull and uninteresting. burst of wind, that reminded me of nothing but the roar

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of Niagara, shot down the side of Mont Velan, stripped Nor among the almost innumerable plans for the inaway the gathered snow of half a century in an immense struction of the people is there one which, in its entire sheet, and hurled it full upon the convent. All was in efficiency, appears better adapted to accomplish an obinstant commotion within. The table was deserted by ject so very desirable. A more important service, there. the chief part of the brotherhood, who hurried to see fore, could hardly have been undertaken than Professor that the casements and doors were made secure. The Pillans has recently performed in directing attention to ground floor of the building, which is occupied with the present defects and future improvement of this stables, and storehouses for wood, and the other supplies mighty instrument. The attempt, also, was the more of the convent, was a scene of immediate confusion, from meritorious, that the unshrinking discharge of the duty the crowding in of the menials and peasantry. I ven- must have been foreseen as likely to arouse the clamours tured one glance from my window-summer was gone and misrepresentations of the prejudiced and the inteat once ; and the winter wild' was come in its stead. rested. We regret that our limits permit only a brief The sun was blotted out of the heavens ; snow, in every outline of the Professor's “ Two Letters" on this subshape that it could be flung into by the most furious ject,—a work which, in the compass of one hundred and wind, whirlpool, drift, and hail, flashed and swept along. seven pages octavo, will be found to embrace every es. Before evening it was fourteen feet high in front of sential precept of practical tuition, forming a manual the Hospice. We could keep our fingers from being that ought to be in the hands of every teacher, -nay, of icicles only by thrusting them almost into the blazing every parent really studious of the dearest interests of his wood fires; the bursts of wind shook the walls like cana children. non-shot; and I made a solemn recantation of all my The first of these admirable Letters contains illustraraptures on the life of an Augustin of St Bernard. tions of the leading principles of Elementary Education;

* As the night fell, the storm lulled at intervals, and the second points out the causes and the cure of imperI listened with anxiety to the cries and noises that an. fect discipline. nounced the danger of travellers surprised in the storm. The principles laid down in the First Letter are the The fineness of the season had tempted many to cross three following :-I. That a child in being taught to the mountain without much precaution against the read, should be taught at the same time to understand change; and the sounds of horns, bells, and the barking what he reads. II. That corporal punishment should of the dogs, as the strangers arrived, kept me long awake. never be resorted to till every other method has failed. By morning the convent was full; the world was turned III. That the office and duty of a public teacher are, so to universal snow; the monks came down girded for their to arrange the business of his school, and the distribu. winter excursions ; the domestics were busy equipping tion of his time, that no child shall be idle. Although the dogs; fires blazed; cauldrons smoked ; every stran- the “ Letters” bear reference to Elementary Education ger was pelissed and furred up to the chin ; and the alone, it will be at once apparent to those conversant whole scene might have passed for a Lapland carnival. with the subject, that the propositions now enumerated But the Hospice is provided for such casualties ; and, af- constitute, in fact, the science the philosophy—the art ter a little unavoidable tumult, all its new inhabitants of teaching in all its stages. The first, in its varied apwere attended to with much more than the civility of a plication and extended uses, cnlarging with the increacontinental inn, and with infinitely less than its discom- sing years and acquirements of the pupil, is the only fort. The gentlemen adjourned to the reading-room, principle which can fully insure the primary object of aú where they found books and papers which probably sel-education-intellectual culture. While, therefore, we go dom passed the Italian frontier. The ladies turned over along entirely and most heartily with the learned Prothe portfolios of prints, many of which are the donations fessor in his always useful-often truly beautiful_il. of strangers who had been indebted to the hospitality of lustrations of the greater rapidity, ease, and certainty the place; or amused themselves at the piano.forte in with which the child will read when he is also taught to the drawing-room-for music is there above the flight carry the meaning along with him, we look forward, and, of the lark; or pored over the shelves to plunge their grounding our assertion on experience of some extent, af. souls in some flattering tale' of hope and love, orange firm, that just in proportion as this principle shall have groves, and chevaliers plumed, capped, and guitarred in been observed and acted upon from the commencementto irresistible captivation. The scientific manipulated just as the understanding has been gradually unfolded the ingenious collection of the mountain minerals made from the Horn-book upwards, will the more difficult by the brotherhood. Half a dozen herbals from the ad. studies of succeeding years advance with facility, comjoining regions lay open for the botanist; a finely bound fort, and success. The pupil who, from his earliest ca. and decorated album, that owed obligations to every art reer at school, has thus been trained to apply both the but the art of poetry, lay open for the pleasantries, the judgment and the memory in every lesson, while, by the memorials, and the wonderings of every body; and for aid of two faculties he advances more securely than by those who loved sleep best, there were eighty beds.”- one, will acquire powers of understanding growing with Vol. i. p.10-15.

his growth, and strengthening with his strength. We

may anticipate even more distant, but equally certain re. To our town readers, who have all the new books at sults, of this intellectual education,-and a consideration their command, we shall not especially recommend the of infinitely greater importance than mere acquirement. “ Tales of the Great St Bernard;" to our country read. Behold the youth carrying into the business of life those ers, who have not the same advantages, it is right to say habits of calm inquiry and of sound judgment, without that their leisure hours may be amused, as they perhaps, which scholarship were vain—which form the respecthave often been before, with works a thousand times in. able man and the useful citizen.. The second principle ferior in point of literary merit.

is the foundation of moral education. Every imperfec. tion of character which displays itself in maturer years,

is to be traced either to neglect, or to erroneous and unProfessor Pilans's Letters to T. F. Kennedy, Esq; ly improper associations formed, in early life. Fear, the

generous principles of action addressed, and consequent. M.P. on the Principles of Elementary Teaching, and the Parochial Schools of Scotland. Edin. A dam principle addressed in the system of education to which

the work before us is opposed, constitutes a powerful, Black, 1828.

indeed, but, with all its attendant brood of degraded feelNo national institution, perhaps, ever operated more ings and revengeful passions, a most debasing agent in visibly, more beneficially, or more widely, on national our moral nature. Here, however, we confess the difficul. character, than the parochial establishment of Scotland. ty of decidedly legislating, a difficulty, not to say a dan

ger,-as respects both the teacher and the scholar. The The Beggar's Daughter of Bethnal Green, a Comedy, former, in the want of confidence which prohibition would

by James Sheridan Knowles, Author of Virginius, imply, the latter, in the license which it would give. Yet, agreeing fully with the general proposition, we do

Caius Gracchus, and William Tell. Glasgow, Rich

ard Griffin and Co. 1828. not hesitate to say, that the man who employs the lash as an ordinary means in education, is unworthy—utterly This comedy is formed on the old English model, unworthy of the sacred trust reposed in him, who might and that model is known to any one who may have seen wield each fresh and generous sympathy of the youthful or read the popular play of Tobin's “ Honeymoon.” It breast. In his profession he is not less grossly ignorant is in blank verse, with occasional sprinklings of prose, and bungling, than would be the artisan who should and is well studded with characters, incidents, and scenic break in pieces some precious casket, instead of opening effect. Like most comedies, it has a principal and an it by a touch on the proper spring.–The third principle under plot, both simple in design, but, perhaps, scarceincludes the whole business of practical education. For ly sufficiently interwoven. The principal plot is briefly one teacher who fails from defect of acquirement, hun- this :-Wilford, a young nobleman at the Court of Eli. dreds err in this department: and here the Professor's zabeth, resolves to disguise himself as a peasant in order remarks are peculiarly valuable, as explaining the monia to seek a maiden worthy of his hand, in whose love sel. torial system, the only one that can meet all the exigen- fishness shall have no share. It is not long before he cies of a large and promiscuous school, and where many meets with Bess, the Beggar's daughter, whose charms branches must necessarily be taught by one master, while are so transcendent, and whose manners are so modest his income will not permit of paid assistants; the only and winning, that he becomes deeply enamoured of her. system, in short, applicable to our parish schools. We Lord Thomas, however, another young nobleman, with regret the more on this account, that we cannot enter at far less honourable designs, contrives to have Bess car. large into the subject, nor display the triumphant man. ried off from her old blind father Albert. In great disner in which every objection is anticipated and refuted. tress, the old man throws himself before Queen ElizaIt would have given us much pleasure to prove the beth on one of her“ progresses” from Westminster to soundness of the Professor's views, and the practical na. Norwich, and states how he has lost his daughter. The ture of the details, from our own experience of their ef- Queen orders proclamation to be made, that whoever has ficacy even in the highest branches of education. As a carried her off shall make reparation for the wrong by general principle in the science of teaching, the Monito- marrying her, having first appeared at Court and con. rial, or system of mutual instruction, is invaluable ; and fessed his fault. But Bess has, in the meantime, escaped we ourselves are acquainted with successful applications from the ruffians into whose hands she had fallen, and of it not only to history and geography, but to logic and seeks for shelter at an inn in Rumford. There she is exmathematics.

posed to several annoyances; but fortunately, Wilford, The Second Letter ranges the causes of imperfect who had himself set out in search of her, arrives at the discipline under the five following heads, while, in the same inn. They meet ; he protects her, and they be. discussion of each, is introduced the proper cure.

I. come mutually attached. Her place of refuge being The total want of all public provision for the profes- known, they are both commanded to appear before Eli. sional education of schoolmasters. II. Want of proper zabeth, who insists upon Lord Thomas offering his hand elementary books. III. Prejudices of parents. IV. to Bess; but she refuses it, and remains constant to Wil. Little countenance shown to the parochial teachers, by ford, whom she still believes a peasant. A discovery, the upper ranks, in visiting their schools, &c. V. The however, now takes place. The blind beggar is the el. scanty pecuniary provision made for parochial teachers. der brother of Lord Woodville, by whom he has been The existence of these causes is universally acknow. unjustly dispossessed of his estates; and Lord Wilford is ledged ; to some, the remedy proposed in these Letters Woodville's only son—therefore, Bess and he are cousins. might instantly be applied; the rest, time and care will german. This denouement is very happily brought about, remove. On all, we think the remarks in the volume and is just as it should be. The under-plot consists of before us excellent. The last-mentioned has generally the adventures of Young Small and his servant Peter ; been considered as the origo mali—the principium ét the former an extravagant spendthrift in the lower ranks fons whence have proceeded all other evils; and, con- of life, and the latter a good-natured simpleton, who is sequently, if the salaries were raised, every defect, it has often made the scape-goat of his master's follies. been said, would be removed. This we cannot con- It will be seen, by this short analysis of the play, that cede ; but while we admit the necessity of more liberal there is a want of strength and novelty in the story; and, provision, we deprecate an indiscriminate, fixed, and cer. accordingly, we think it is in the original ground-work tain increase as far more likely to augment than to re- of the fable, not in the author's execution, that it fails. move existing imperfections. For our reasons, we must It contains many scenes and passages of much spirit and refer to the - Letters,” of which, not only the perusal, beauty, and a few of these we shall now quote. The but the study, we again earnestly recommend to every comedy opens in the following fresh and vigorous man. one, whether professionally or otherwise interested in an establishment which, for nearly a century and a half, has been regarded as an honour to this country. The author's name is identified with the very idea of good Enter Lord WILFORD and Belmont, the former dressed teaching, and perfect management of the youthful mind;

as a peasant, the latter as a courtier. permanent value and utility were consequently to be ex- Lord Wilford. To doubt that woman loves, to ques pected from remarks founded upon the inferences, and embodying the experiences of a whole life, devoted - If light her dwelling fair hath in the sunenthusiastically devoted-and, as proclaimed by the gra- That passion sweet at home is ne’er so much titude of his country-successfully devoted to the cause As when it doth sojourn in her sweet breast ! at the business of education. The great aim of the But noble house may noble tenant lack, publication, indeed, is to base principle upon experiment And roof a sordid one; so woman's heart to apply the philosophy of induction to the

noblest The lust of pleasure, pride of rank, or wealth ;

May lodge ignoble passion-vanity, of all arts,” (the words are those of Dr Thomas Brown, 1 Guests uncongenial unto love, with which " the art of teaching ;" and what the labours of Reid. It can't consort, nor enters where they are. and Stewart have done for Metaphysics, the plans of Belmont. So, of love's gem possession to ensure, Professor Pillans are capable of aceomplishing for Edu-Thou doff'st thy title, and resolv'st to roam, cation.

In modest guise of simple yeoman's son ?

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SCENE FIRSTA GARDEN NEAR THE THAMES.

tion were,

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Wil, E'en so.

Al. Nor can I that. Who sees his house pull'd down, Bel. The gem, such labour seeks, is prized.

And does not strive to build it up again? You'll take some pains to pick the casket too.

Who sees his vessel sunk, and does not look Wil. I'll pick a casket fit to hold the gem.

For other hull to plough the waves anew ? Bel. I prithee figure to me such a one.

I cannot do't! I've lived on the high seas Wil. To try a metaphor, it shall be rare

Of restless life; I would be on them still. As may be; curious in the workmanship;

Say I'm unfit for't-I'd be near them still. But, in the use, the primal value still:

The sailor, maim'd or superannuate, Not shining chief where constant falls the eye,

Seeks not an inland home, but on the cliff But opening brighter, that, to look within,

His hammock slings, in hearing of the surge
The rich without seems poor, and to complete

He wont to cleave of yore.
My casket fair, that shall love's jewel shrine,
As worth's thrice worthy, modestly reveald,

A LOVER'S CONSTANCY.
Its spring that does its value chief disclose,

Belmont. Still wrapt as ever ! Shall coyly answer to the prying touch.

Rouse thee, Wilford ! rouse thee ! Bel. May she be rich ?

Shake off this lethargy, and be a man! Wil. Ay, if she knows it not.

Take faster hold of hope! We'll find her yet. Bel. Titled ?

But should we fail, what then? Art thou to pine Wil . A princess, so the queen of wives.

To death? This malady is of the head Bel. Shall she be brown or fair ?

More than the heart. "Believe it can be cured; Wil. Whatever hue,

Thou'lt find 'twill be so. Be thyself again! Fair truth commendeth with ingenuous blush,

Be free! But once beheld may be forgot. Bel. Say she is poor and low

Wil. Yes, if a thing that any fellow hathWil. So nature proves

I may forget a diamond, can I find At odds with fortune, she will answer me.

Another one as rich : but show me one Bel. But she must love thee?

That is the paragon of all the mine,
Wil Ay, 'bove earth and sea!

And try if that's forgot, though seen but once!
Yea, 'bove herself, of twice their worth the sum! Say that but once I see a beauteous star,
So that, while others my pretensions scan

I may forget it for another star;
To be the master of such bravery,

But say but once I do behold the sun, She shall account my wearing on't its pride,

And name the time will blot its image out! And the o'er-rich wish richer to deserve me!

Bel. But of a single draught of love to die! Bel. Thou hast a quaint conception of a wife.

Wil. Why not? There is your poison, strong and weak; The following passages strike us as breathing much of One by the drachm, one by the scruple kills;

One kind admits of antidote-one, not the energy and poetical fire which so finely characterise Another, by the grain-for not in bulk, almost every scene of “ Virginius” and “ William But subtleness, the lethal virtue lies :Tell:"—

So there are kinds in love! A dozen shafts A FATHER'S PRESENT TO A SPENDTHRIFT SON.

May gall him, and the bounding deer run on,

But one shot home, behold he's down at once!
Who marries thee loves not herself ;
She goes a voyage in a fair-weather bark,

A LOVER'S RESOLUTION.
That scuds while wind and wave do favour it,

Look you, man will let one take his life But in itself hath no sea-worthiness

Ere he'll give up his purse; and that perhaps To stand their buffeting! Here—have thy wish;

Will hold a score of crowns. It hath been done Thou'lt find no niggard hand has till’d that purse. For less. Come, state the sum thou'dst set 'gainst her! I give it thee to feed thy wantonness;

What's its amount? Come, name't! Couldst borrow it But, e'en for that, I'd have thee chary on't. There's not a piece in it but is made up

From usury? Couldst find it in the mint ?

In that which feeds the mint—the unwasting mine? Of grains of fractions, every one of which

Couldst eke it out with diamonds, and the rest Was slowly gather'd by thy father's thrift,

Of all the brood of gems? Couldst fancy it? And hoarded by his abstinence! It holds

And shall I give her up, that have the right How many minutes ta'en from needful sleep!

To keep her? Never, but with life! She's mine! How many customary wants denied !

You see she is! You see her will no less How many throbs of doubting-sighs of care,

Doth hold her here, than do the arms, with all Laid out for nothing, in thy waywardness.

My soul I lock upon her. Loosen them
But take it with a blessing! Fare-thee-well!

Who counts his life a straw!
Thou never yet couldst suit thee, Thomas, to
Thy father's house; but should there come the time,
Thou know'st the door, and it will open to thee !

There can be little doubt, and these quotations tend to

make it less, that Mr Knowles's forte is tragedy. With PATRIOTISM.

a high and dignified subject before him, his imaginaAlbert. I will not-cannot quit my native land! tion rises, and his feelings burst freshly forth. He is Bann'd as I am, 'tis precious to me still.

too much of the poet to be a great deal of the humour. It is my father's land—'tis loved for that ;

ist. When he speaks of the simple and grand passions 'Tis thine-thy child's it should be loved for you; which agitate the bosom-of liberty,—of paternal, filial, It should be loved, if only for itself!

or conjugal affection,-of honest hatred, or indignant 'Tis free; it hath no despot, but its laws;

revenge, he is at home; and we trust his next effort will 'Tis independent; it can stand alone;

be of the same sort as his “ Virginius" and his “ Tell.” 'Tis mighty, 'gainst its enemies, 'tis one. Where can I find a land the like of it! Its son, though under ban and forfeiture, Is envied for it. He's the brother of The free! I cannot quit my native land;

The Elements of English Composition. By David IrFor sight of other land I would not give

ving, LL.D. The eighth edition, corrected and enThe feeling of its breath. The wall of him

larged. Edinburgh, Juhn Boyd, 37, George Street, That does not forfeit it, which none may scale,

1828. Pp. 378. However proud, unscath'd to do him wrong. I cannot-will not quit my native land !

We know of few books which we can more sincerely Emma. Then let us seek some quiet corner on't,

recommend to the student of English composition, than Nor spend on thriftless hope, what husbanded

that now before us. Dr Irving disclaims the merit of By wise content would keep us more than rich. much originality in its execution, confessing his obliga

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