Endurance that can suffer and grow strongWalk through the world with bleeding feet,

and smile!'

The songs of freedom and progress— poems, of the inferiority of which to his love-lays Massey is himself fully conscious-have yet a sufficient quantity of fire and vigour about them to merit attention. They are valuable as indicating that deep hatred of oppression which smoulders in the hearts of the toiling millions-a hatred which governments seem rather anxious to intensify than to remove. What kind of verses might we expect a poet to pen whose childhood, with all its delightful dreams, had been suddenly crushed down by the millstone of toil, whose soul had been pierced by the iron of poverty and aristocratic scorn, and into the very core of whose being the commotions of the Continent had been 'scarred and blood - burned?' Would it not simply be such verses as this new poet of the people has written-such lays as, The Lords of Land and Money,' 'Our Fathers are Praying for Pauper-pay,' They are but Giants while we Kneel,' 'The Men of Forty-eight,' and 'A Welcome to Louis Kossuth?' It is not to be expected that the workman-poet of this age will content himself with finding a solace in nature for all the miseries of his lot, or will refrain from thundering his anathema maranatha into the ears of tyrannical taskmasters, or of an insipid aristocracy. Rather would we hear an Elliott, like an enraged eagle, screaming out his burdens of wrath against breadtax-winners, and Massey calling upon democracy to arise from the dust of degradation, and avenge the wrongs of centuries, than see a poet so far degrade the Godgiven gift within him, as to fawn upon a patrician patron, and extol the large magnanimity of the man who rewards his eulogiums with a supercilious smile. A few of the songs before us certainly savour somewhat too strongly of the Faubourg St Antoine; but Elliott blasphemed an octave higher, and showered his curses, like serpents of fire, with a more unsparing hand. Some of the verses, again, are written more in sorrow than in anger; they are drops wrung from a bleeding heart. In others, the poet counsels and warns, like a brother, his fellow-workers, and calls them out den of darkness and the city's soil of sin, to the worship of beauty-out from the to the billowing corn-fields and the silence

of the solitary wood, where 'stands magnificence dreaming, and God burneth in the bush.' He bids them remember that mind is might that only by keeping holy the heart and cultivating the intellect, shall they be able to overcome their degradation, and lend new glory to the world on which they dwell.

Better than the songs are two poems in blank verse-'New Year's Eve in Exile,' and 'Peace.' In these we find not a little of the strength of 'Hyperion,' as in other poems we found the lusciousness of 'Endymion.' The first describes a meeting of the flower and chivalry of many lands in the country of their exile. They hold a solemn festival, while others are quaffing the brimming beakers of joy, and the New Year's bells are ringing a jubilant peal. The poem contains many powerful and passionate lines, and wings of flame flutter within the heart of the prophet-poet, as he pictures the dawn of freedom burning the consolidated gloom of centuries. Peace' is a production of a similar stamp. It reminds us of the noblest passage in Mrs Barrett Browning's last, longest, and best poem. How full of fiery life is the exordium, which must astonish Mr Pease, and arrest Elihu Burritt in the composition of a new Olive Leaf!

'Yes, peace is beautiful; and I do yearn For her to clasp the world's poor tortured heart,

As sweet spring warmth doth brood o'er coming flowers.

But peace with these Leviathans of blood, Who pirate crimson seas, devouring men? Give them the hand of brotherhood-whose fangs

Are in our hearts with the grim bloodhound's grip? Would'st see peace, idiot-like, with smirk and smile,

A-planting flowers to coronal Truth's grave? Peace merry-making, mind the funeral-pyre, Where freedom, fiery-curtain'd, weds with

death?

Peace mirroring her form by pools of bloodCrowning the Croat in Vienna's fosse,

On love, and God, and our humanity!'

Enough has now been said, and quotations sufficient have been given, to prove that in Gerald Massey we have another new poet of rare promise. Whatever amount of odium his political lyrics may have raised against him in certain circles, he is destined to be dear to the heart of the people. His faults, on some of which we have tenderly touched, lie on the surface, and can easily be amended. In fact, they will gradually drop away as his genius expands to the full measure and stature of poetic manhood. He has already quenched the lurid fire of his revolutionary strains, and soon we may expect to find him curbing his riotous fancy, reproducing less frequently images and thoughts from favourite poets, and attaining greater depth and clearness of vision. We give a welcome to this poet, all the heartier that he was born and bred in a poor man's hut, for the Scottish bards most deeply reverenced and loved are those whom the Spirit of song found sitting by the cottage hearth, when she awoke the slumbering music of their souls; and it is our warmest wish that Gerald Massey may yet occupy that place in the affections of the English people, which Robert Burns occupies in the hearts of the peasantry of the North.

pletely 'pounded,' and the final failure of their expedition was the only grain of comfort I had during this disastrous day. Dans les malheurs des nos amies il y' a toujours quelque chose qui nous plait. After a last look upon the sweet Lake of Gennesareth, in which some fishermen were drawing their nets, wading in the water (for boats have disappeared), we slowly ascended the heights above Tiberias, and pursued our journey in a westerly direction to Labieth, a scattered village, pleasantly situated amidst groves of figtrees and gigantic hedges of the cactus.

We halted near a well in the midst of a green vale, a short distance from this hamlet, and, sheltering ourselves from the sun, watched a scene in which Eastern life was pictured in one of its fairest and most romantic aspects. The damsels of Labieth had just come forth to draw water. They were all unveiled, and wore around their brows, and platted in their long hair, an amazing number of gold and silver coins, their marriage portion, and probably the whole wealth of the wearers. Anklets and many bracelets were strung round their wellformed limbs and bare arms, whilst long earthen jars balanced on their heads, together with their loose robes, gave them a stately and dignified appearance. Around the well, a numerous caravan had rested. Dark-visaged men, clad in bright dresses, were stretched upon the grass, and many camels were scattered around. Some were drinking water which a village maid was drawing for them, as did Rebecca at the well of Nahor for the camels of Abraham. The graceful girls moved silently, with light, untrammelled step, the weary Arabs slept upon the bright grass, the camels, freed from their burdens, ruminated in peace. Boundless and cloudless the pure blue heavens hung above a scene, strange, still, and fair, as traveller could wish to gaze upon, and perfect as limner could desire to paint.

Towards sunset, we approached the brow of a hill, and on gaining the summit, we found we had almost arrived at the conclusion of our journey for the day. A deep rocky basin lay below us, the shelving sides of which, worn and ribbed as if by the sea, resembled not a little the interior of a Roman circus, though more elongated in shape, and of course much larger. On the northern slope of this valley -sun-scorched, and, save a few stunted

olives, bare of trees-stands Nazareth, the humble home during nearly all his earthly pilgrimage of the Saviour of mankind. A rich canopy of golden clouds hung above the town, and the bottom of the vale is fertile and green; but, in spite of these beauties, the grey, naked rocks upon which Nazareth is built give it an aspect of dreary sterility. One-half of the population is Christian, and the Latin convent is the largest edifice in the town; but beside it is a mosque, from which-conspicuous above all the buildings of the place-rises one tall minaret, the sole emblem of Mahomet which profanes the city of the Saviour; and here the cross and the crescent seem to contend for the sovereignty of Nazareth.

Just before reaching the summit of the hill, an accident occurred, which at first sight appeared sufficiently alarming. Among the horses of our caravan there was one loaded with a pile of soft materials, upon the top of which one of our people, an obliging Greek, was comfortably ensconced. Thinking that a change to such a seat might be a relief to a lady tired with long travel, I suggested an exchange, and the Greek was in an instant on his feet, when the owner of the horse churlishly refused to allow any one else to mount him. Many petty provocations during the day had at length rendered my arm as well as my temper somewhat impatient, so, seizing the ungallant Turk by his long bare vulturelike neck, I shook it till his turban rolled on the ground, and he gasped out that it would give him the greatest pleasure if his horse could be in any way useful. This man, who had always been disobliging, now became obsequiously polite, assisted my wife to mount, and, gathering the first flower he saw, presented it to her with a profound reverence. haps in the East 'the yellow hair' of the plant may have a peculiar significance, but with us the peace-offering would not be considered either the fairest or the most fragrant of flowers, as it was a common dandelion. If, however, Ibrahim felt secret resentment for his shaking, there was a dramatic propriety in the revenge which he speedily received. In passing a rock, the horse made a sudden spring, his rider grasped at the rein-there was none-and seizing a sheep's-skin, which gave way when it was laid hold of, down she came, her face striking full upon the bare rock, and for

Per

a moment she lay senseless and covered with blood. It was sad to have nothing for it but to place her again on her horse and travel on; but at the convent of Nazareth, Father Joachim attended her with such skill and care, that in less than three days his patient was able to resume her journey, restored in strength, though swathed and bandaged like a daughter of the faithful.

And blessings upon those kindly monks of Nazareth! Who that has ridden by day over the hills of Syria, and slept at night in stifling Druse huts, or encamped amidst the hyenas, dogs, and jackals of Katana or Tiberias, but would rejoice in the quiet and simple comforts of the convent? But who that arrives there sick or wounded would not bless this oasis in the moral desert, and thank the Providence that placed him under the gentle care of Father Joachim?

A stately, fine-looking old Spaniard, a graduate of Salamanca, is this disciple of Esculapius and St Dominic; and it was not without sorrow that we bade farewell to one who had been so completely a friend in need, nor will his patient soon forget the venerable monk, who brought with him at every visit, as well as skilful advice, fresh flowers and kindly smiles.

The note-book of the convent bore ample testimony to the skill of Father Joachim and the kindness of the monks, and proved at the same time the savage state of the country in the neighbourhood of Nazareth. Had I doubted the propriety of being properly armed while travelling in Syria, the narratives left by travellers in this book would have convinced me of its expedience. One of the most recent entries was the grateful acknowledgment made by an Englishman for the refuge and succour which the convent had afforded him. While crossing the plain of Esdrælon with a single attendant, he had been attacked near Jenin by three ruffians armed with clubs. His native guide fled at their

approach; and after being rendered insensible by blows, he was left for dead by the robbers, who had first stripped him of every vestige of clothing. In this state he was found, and brought to Nazareth by a wayfarer, who was perhaps literally 'a good Samaritan,' as Samaria, the neighbouring district, still contains a remnant of that ancient people.

It is evident that these men, armed only with clubs, dared not have attacked even a single Englishman, if properly supplied with pistols, and the chances are much less of encountering large bands of robbers than small parties of marauders.

Like other Roman Catholics in less venerable situations, the Christians of Nazareth have their relics and sacred localities to exhibit. The house of Joseph and Mary, hewn in the rock, the chamber of the Annunciation, the table-stone upon which Christ broke bread with his disciples after his resurrection, and the rock from which the Jews intended to have precipitated the Saviour, are all pointed out with unhesitating confidence. The rock table is a lozenge-shaped block of limestone, worn smooth by the touch of pilgrims, who are said to receive a seven years' indulgence after visiting it.

A passing glance is all one feels inclined to bestow upon monkish marvels which have no evidence to support them, but the eye rests long and earnestly upon the unchanging features of nature, the rugged mountains, the natural caverns, the bare white rocks, every stone of which must have been a familiar object to Him, who for upwards of thirty years condescended to sojourn in that little secluded valley; and there was a thrilling pleasure in wandering over hills His feet must so often have trod. From one of the heights I obtained a magnificent view of the surrounding country, not the least interesting object being Acre, situated beyond the promontory of Mount Carmel, and, though twenty miles distant, the houses and even the boats in the bay were distinctly visible.

It had been our wish to arrive at Jerusalem before Christmas Eve, but this was prevented by the accident which had occurred. Our two travelling companions,

however, continued their journey, and reached the holy shrines in time to witness the ceremonies; and, contrary to what we had at one time feared, we were