that he designed to represent these as the conservative principles of society, -the bond of all duty, and the sole worthy ornament of rank.

In the age and country of Cervantes, civil restraints and universal order were but recently established, in the room of disunion and sword-law. Formerly, foreign occupation, envenomed by every contrariety of blood, language, and religion, had perpetuated insecurity, and given value to the virtues of the strong hand and the stout heart. In more recent times, jealousy, disunion, and poverty had armed the petty kingdoms of the Peninsula each against the internal prosperity of its neighbour. In the age of Cervantes, all these things had passed away. An united sovereignty, an uniform legislature, and identity of interests, had introduced domestic order, and order had generated wealth. Discovery had explored mines from which foreign riches poured over the land in a tide which was ultimately, alas! found to be of fatal copiousness, and had opened a boundless field for the enterprise and the ambition of those turbulent spirits who might at home have endangered public tranquillity. In these circumstances, the spirit of the age became eminently practical: the splendid illusions of the past became unintelligible and distasteful; they embodied ideas and necessities no longer recognised or felt by the mass, and only faintly reproduced in the imagination of the speculative philosopher. Yet, practical as were the tendencies of that age, they were not wholly of the earth, earthly loyalty had still a meaning, and faith was not yet a jest. Rank was held in reverence with which no sense of degradation mingled, but rather an elevating pride was felt, as in the discharge of a worthy debt; for obedience to the voice of duty was the aim and honour of the lowly.

Such was the spirit of the age which Cervantes has embodied in his immortal romance; therein rightly discharging

the function devolved upon the highest genius, to transmit to posterity a faithful record of the mode and forms of civilisation in which the poet exists. Thus have we a series of pictures of human life, from the days of Homer downwards, all showing an unvarying essence incarnated in an endless diversity of shape and colour: man, one; the circumstances of Life never twice the same.

THE APPROACH OF DEATH.

BY MISS E. L. MONTAGU.

My bosom pines for death,

-nor vainly moans

Far down oblivion's silent gulf to glide;
Even now the mighty King of many thrones
Steals on with noiseless footsteps to my side.
His is the empire o'er the wasted heart,-
His are the kingdoms of the spirit crushed, —
His are the envious boundaries that part
This sea of life from shores where all is hushed.
Great King, behold me suppliant at thy knee!
One breath of thine would waft me to that land
Where longs this sorrow-laden wing to flee:
Oh! lead me onward with thy loving hand;
No form of light on earth so fair may be
As thy soft shadow seemeth unto me.

April 5. 1834.

ISHMAEL'S DESPAIR.

BY MRS. CHARLES GORE.

I.

By yon well-side, where shading spreads the plane-tree's sturdy bough,

A lofty stranger grieving stands, with his robe flung o'er his

brow.

The well is cool, as crystal clear, the spreading leaves are

green,

But who and what art thou, stranger, who gazest on the

scene?

Oh, question not with idle words, nor mock that lonely

one,

'Tis the Hunter of the Wilderness, 'tis Hagar's outcast son!

II.

Firm knit his limbs,-erect his port,—and beautiful his face, As the meteor-crowned majestic chief of the fallen angel race. And, lo! amid what stifling sobs his words indignant burst, Like a rock-spring gurgling forth amid the pathless desert's thirst.

E'en as the lightning's flashes fall those gloomy waves upon, Sparkles with ire the low'ring brow of Hagar's outcast son!

III.

"And I could curse thee, Tree!" he cries, "yea, curse thee with a spell

Might to earth's central spring drive back the waters of thy

well!

To breathe that mystic word I came; but, oh, as here I stand,

An alien from my father's home, a vagrant in the land,

My softened soul recurs to days when my happy race was

run

Upon thy margin green, where played my mother and her son!

IV.

"How blest and how beloved we were! how strong our vineyard's fence!

A father's guardian prayer o'erwatched mine infant inno

cence!

I was the first-born of his strength, the nursling of his love, Till against nature's instincts bright, an envious woman strove. And withered be that ruthless heart by whom the deed was

done,

That drove forth to the wilderness my mother and her son!

V.

"I do remember how, at first, her soothings sought to cheer The little wanderer by her side, as there were nought to fear; And then, and then, as on we went, her flagging steps grew

slow,

Her guiding hand relaxed its grasp,-her voice waxed faint and low.

Faint as it was, its pleadings reached the Omnipresent One, For GOD was in the desert with the outcast and her son!

VI.

"Then water bubbled in our cruise, and gladness smiled

around:

No heart so gangrened with its woes, but He can heal the

wound!

And when a voice from Heav'n proclaimed her child, her pledge of grief,

The sire of nations yet to come, the desert's archer-chief,
Oh, joyful were my mother's tears to know a race begun
Of royal power and regal pride in me, her love-born son !

VII.

"And I was proud and joyous, too, to think this shame-scathed

brow

Would bear a crown,

wiser now!

ah, barren crown!-my soul is

Now know I the vain breath of life an evil gift, to those Who win with toil their scanty bread, and struggle to the

close;

Who, like myself in Paran's wilds, from dawn to set of sun, Wrestle with want and weariness for mother, wife, and son!

VIII.

"Behold! my brother's heritage, how green and fair it is! Why was I driven, by laws unjust, from such a land as this? Why was I birth-shamed, why sent forth to prey for food,why cursed

With heaven and heaven-taught man's disdain in bitter rancour nursed;

Though from no altar-kindled rite my soul its radiance won?

Oh, jealous GOD! why visit'st thou the father in the son?