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But patriots openly, legally striving

Asleep in icy sheets upon their beds;
To rescue their race from oppression and shame ! In the far wilderness the whispering leaves

And birds were mute; and silent Solitude,
You were look'd for, a cloud, naught but tempest por-

With finger on her lip, sat full of fear. tending The visitant still of our storm-riven land !

The lower animals were all dismay'd ;You came like the sun, out of chaos ascending

The cock, who counted the unerring hours,

Crowed at his wonted time; the peasant boy Sublime, at his Maker's benignant command ! Our long reign of darkness, unchequerid !-despairing! Waked, and he wonder'd why the sun still slept,

And health's breeze play'd not with his curly locks. Which each hope of dawn but protracted anew!

The owl tired of the melancholy hours and slept ; You scatter'd with radiance resplendent repairing

The toad had wander'd from his native pool, „Whole ages of Night with the Day that it threw.

And crawl'd into the palace, and he dared

To sit like an usurper on the throne, Farewell ! From the land that now darkens to lose you, and underneath the crown he put his head, Your virtue the vouchers that witness it bears

Mocking at royalty, and drank from silver urns; As they drown the vile laugh with which Faction pur- | And in th’unfinish'd bowl of revelry sues you

He dipp'd, and lay intoxicate, and died ; The blessings of millions invoked ’mid the tears!

And slimy snakes laid them in beauty's breast,
Farewell! Ah too short was thy visit, to lighten And twined their forms in her luxuriant curls,
So brightly to lighten our land, overcast !

And touch'd her timid cheek sacred to love.
But the ocean's proud crest shall her emerald brighten
No more when the glow of thy memory is past !

The glow-worm lighted up its lovely lamp,
And worshippers bow'd to the senseless thing;
Volcanoes held aloft their flaming torch,
And multitudes around them howling sat

On mountain tops; and mighty forest-trees
THE PLAGUE OF DARKNESS,

And houses were made watch-fires unto men;

Fire's eye had slept in every human home.By the Author of the Lament of the Wandering Jew, | Thousands were seen rushing to ruin fast, and other Poems."

Chasing the ignes fatui on the heath,

Which plunged them amid pits and marshy fens Hath he, whose breath first bade the sun to be, Blown out his light? or, muffled in the robe

Some travellers carried in their hand a branch of Night, sleeps he among the fleecy clouds ?

Of rotten wood ;-it shone, but warm'd them not ; Is the oil of thy everlasting lamp,

But many fell down gulfs and unknown steeps, Fair Moon, burnt out, not to relume again?

High carnival for beast and bird of prey.
-Is thy face changed, to change not any more?
Ye starry orbs, are ye quench'd in the clouds ? -

The eyes of all men strain'd to compass light:
Ye comets, are ye called up to his throne,

The shepherd from his mountain eyry look'd ;Your home of light,-your early dwelling-place ?- The mariner look'd for the morning star ;Ye lightnings, is your ammunition done,

The bacchanal, at wassailing and wine, Or are your forky arrows laid aside

Had sworn to tire the night and see the sun; To sharpen well against the awful day?

He fell; his laugh was changed into a howl ;Is Earth's globe blotted from the universe ?

The poet look'd, all nature was a blank ;Is Nature dead, and is this burial black,

The painter look'd, the landscape was a blot;-. Which all things wear, the world's funeral dress ?

The beauty look'd—but dark, as in their grave,

Beneath their fringy lids her starry eyes Because the Sun shone not, winged with fire,

Lay viewless, passionless, and uninspired ;No waters rose in mists, or fell in rains

The man of observation dropt his pen, And dews upon the gasping lands ;

A cloud obscured the windows of his mind ;Because the Moon shone not, the tides forgot

The astronomer, confounded in his views To join the mermaids, singing to their shells ;

And speculations, own'd a Mighty Cause ;Because the stars shone not, the mariner

The blind man only felt as he had wontHad lost his path amid the trackless waves.

To walk in darkness was not new to him.

The spheres, whose music makes such harmony
To the ear of Philosophy, sung not ;
The orchestra of winds, and waves, and woods,
Play'd not, as they were wont, in emulous tones;
Ocean waked not upon her mighty harp
(Touch'd by the fingers of the homeless storms)
A wilderness of spirit-stirring sounds;
The orpban winds cared not to roam the fields,
To kiss the death-like cheeks of hueless flowers;
The babbling brooks, that, as they flow along,
Hum many a pleasing ditty to themselves,
Forgot their wild notes, and in silence lay

Imagination, too, was at her work,
And conjured up the ghosts of murder'd Time.
The kindlinesses all of man to man,
The interchange of word and speaking look,
The magic of a tear, the sunny smile,
The electric of the touch, when hand shakes hand,
And flies from hand to heart; friendship and love,
The lovely children of the heart, all died,
And melancholy lean'd on his pale brow;
Joy danced not, for his limbs were paralysed,
And Hope saw nothing thro' her telescope.
Glasgow.

T. B. J.

fessor Wilson, which is by far the best likeness that has yet been LA CHENILLE.

taken of him.

Theatrical Gossip.The London theatres were never better [The following Fable is from the

pen of an accomplished attended than they are at present, whilst, we are sorry to say, s. foreigner. 1

actly the reverse is the case in Edinburgh.-At the Adelphi, Ms.

thews, Yates, and T. P. Cooke, seem to be carrying every thing UNE Chenille aride

before them, for they scarcely ever bring out a piece that is not

eminently successful.-The Italian Opera opened this seaso Disoit, “ Je n'ai plus d'appetit;

with “La Donna del Lago," and a new Prima Donna, called Je sens mon corps devenir plus petit,

Mademoiselle Monticelli, sustained the principal character. Et ma peau se tane et se ride :

Kean has relinquished his engagement at Covent Garden, incon C'est fait de moi; je deviens chrysalide,

sequence of some misunderstanding arising out of his recent De mon espèce destin rigoureuse !

“sudden indisposition.” We wish he would come down here for

a fortnight-Miss Isabella Paton has performed here three or four Race infortunée et maudite!

times to good houses ; she appears a pleasant clever actress, and, as Voila pourtant le sort affreux

a townswoman, ought to be encouraged. She has her benefit on Ou chaque Chenille est réduite."

Monday, -A new piece, called “Charles XII." which has had a Tout en parlant elle s'endort

good run in London, was produced last night, but of course too

late for our criticism.-The author of " Virginius" is again at De ce profond sommeil qu'elle prend pour la mort.

work on a comedy. The failure of his last has only put him on Par hazard, aupres d'elle,

his mettle. He has a feeling that the thing is in him, and is de Un papillon leger, brillant,

termined that it shall not be for want of perseverance if it does Fretilloit, battoit de l'aile,

not come out. He has our best wishes for a final triumph. Et sourcoit en l'écoutant.

WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES.

Jan. 31..Feb. 6,

1

SAT. Country Girl, and Lord of the Manor.
LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. Mox. Duenna, Noyades, % Free and Easy.

TUES. School for Scandal, 4 Ramah Droog.
WED. Country Girl, 4 Marriage of Figaro.

TAUR. The Will, Day after the Wedding, of Lord of the Manor.
The extensive historical work, so long announced by Sir Fri. Charles XII., He Lies like Truth, 4 Ramah Droog.
James Mackintosh, is now likely to appear early in spring. Sir
James has also undertaken to prepare for the Cabinet Cyclopædia,
a Popular History of England, to form three volumes of that

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. publication.

The lively authoress of the Diary of an Ennuyée announces a A considerable number of new works lie upon our table for renew work, to be called, The Loves of the Poets.

view, all of which we shall notice as soon as possible, A new novel, from the pen, we believe, of Lady Morgan, is

An ingenious scientific correspondent has an article in preparaabout to appear, entitled, The Daverels. The Ettrick Shepherd tion upon the phrenological developement of Burke and Hare, has expressed a hope that it may not be confounded with The

which we doubt not will be perused with interest. Haverels.

The paper on “ Religious Division” is respectably written, but Mr Grattan, the author of Highways and Byways, has a new

it does not seem to contain any thing sufficiently striking or oriwork in the press, Traits of Travel, or Tales of Men and Cities. ginal to warrant publication; we shall be glad, however, to hear We hope the work may be better than this affected and unmean- from the author again. The “ Essay on Italy," "Phrenologas," ing name seems to augur.

and “ A Sailor's Dream," will not suit us. The Diary and Correspondence of the celebrated Dr Doddridge

The “ Sonnets" by a Lady, which we have received from Aber are in a forward state at press, under the superintendence of his deen, will appear in an early Number." R. S." of Aberdeen is great-grandson.

improving, but he is not quite good enough yet. There are some We understand that the clever author of the Subaltern is pre- pretty Lines in “ Minstrelsy,” but as a whole it is imperfect paring the Chelsea Pensioners, a Series of Military Stories. - The Dumb Maid," and the effusions of “G, M, G." and "D.

The author of To-day in Ireland is about to publish a new M. D." will not suit us, though there is some merit in all these
Series of Tales, called, Yesterday in Ireland. We shall, doubt. pieces.-We are not aware what crime we have committed to en-
less, soon have To-morrow in Ireland, and then, probably, the title “Y. A." of Aberdeen to infiet upon us a copy of verses
Day after To-morrow in Ireland.

which begin thus,-
Mr Valpy is publishing a Series of School and College Greek
Classics, with English Notes, in duodecimo. The Medea and

“ When last we met, we parted cold, Hecuba of Euripides, and the dipus of Sophocles, are ready.

Which to my bosom proved a dart. Thucydides, Herodotus, Xenophon, and others, will follow in succession, on the same plan.

“ Should the foregoing," adds “ Y. A." “ meet your approba. Miss Isabel Hill has in the press a volume called, Holilay tion, I shall be happy in sending you a little piece occasionally." Dreams; or, Light Reading in Poetry and Prosc.

We have particularly to request of “Y, A.” and his brother-
There is preparing for publication, Rural Recollections; or, rhymesters, not "a little picce," but a little peace. "W. M." and
The Progress of Improvement in Agriculture and Rural Affairs, "J. K.” are under consideration.— The Song on Burns, though
by George Robertson, author of The Agricultural Survey of Mid- in types, is unavoidably postponed till our next.
Lothian.

The communication on the subject of “Ballantyne's ExaminaR. A. SMITH.-We are happy to state that the concert which tion of the Human Mind," will appear in our next," L.E." and took place, last Wednesday evening, in St George's Church, for

“ T. A." have just been received. the benefit of the family of the late R. A. Smith, was attended by nearly fourteen hundred persons. The arrangements were, on the whole, very judicious; but we regret that ncither Miss Noel

TO OUR READERS. nor Miss Eliza Paton gave their assistance.

FINE ARTS.-We understand that Martin's celebrated painting In future, the hot pressing of the Edinburgh Literary Journal of the Deluge, together with the Holofernes of Etty, one of the will be discontinued, the practice having been found not only most brilliant of the English colourists, are among the pictures to materially to injure the appearance of the work, from the hurried be exhibited this year at the Scottish Academy. There will be manner in which the speration was necessarily performed, but ten or twelve portraits by John Watson Gordon at the Royal In- also to occasion many vexatious delays. In the Monthly Parts, stitution; and, having already seen most of them, we feel confi- however, the hot-pressing will be continued as formerly, because dent that they will tend to increase, still more, the reputation of there is sufficient time to dry the sheets effectually. The third that very admirable artist. Among the rest, is a portrait of Pro Monthly Part, for January 1829, is now ready for delivery.

[blocks in formation]

We may

that talent lies thus dormant. There seems, in most LITERARY CRITICISM.

cases, to be something inherent in its very nature, which incites it to spring into a wide arena, and freely, almost

recklessly, to fling its trophies to the crowd. Knowledge The Opening of the Sixth Seal. A Sacred Poem. is power, but it is power of a certain sort; it is power

London; Longman and Co. 1829. 8vo. Pp. 179. which is respected more than loved. Genius is power, The African, a Tale ; and other Poems. By D. Moore. and power of a higher description ; for it commands the

Glasgow; Robertson and Atkinson. Pp. 216. affections, while it overawes the mind. Knowledge is Poems, by Thomas Brydson. Glasgow ; John Wylie. something different—something apart, as it were_from 1829. Pp. 136.

the man to whom it belongs ; genius is not.

esteem knowledye, but hate its possessor ; with genius THERE is something particularly pleasant in liaving this distinction never holds good. Knowledge is to be put into one's hands a new volume of poetry, moist from acquired; and, by industry and perseverance, the merest the presso-fresh and uncut. Who knows what its fu plodder may attain it ; genius is innate, and implies a ture destiny may be ? It has not yet gone abroad to the more delicate physical and mental organization. Genius world, and we open it in silent expectation, as if about and poetry are synonymes ; and the one can hardly exist to look into the secret mechanism of a mind hitherto without the other. But poetry is not always to be looked unexplored. Every one, we suppose, remembers the for in measured lines, or even in written words. It is delightful curiosity and surprise with which, when a like beauty, and may be found under many shapes. It child, he first investigated the hidden springs and wheels glows upon the canvass,_it breathes over the marble, of a watch, glittering in their golden intricacy, and for it lightens up the eye of the musician, --it goes forth ever revolving with a ticking sound, like the voice of a with the young enthusiast to distant lands, -it gazes living thing. Somewhat akin to this feeling, is the with the astronomer upon the midnight planets,-it more matured emotion of the lover of poetry, when he moves abroad into the sunshine with her who, in her unopens the leaves of a book upon which, for aught he can pretending purity and loveliness, adds fresh lustre to tell, may be written words rife with immortality. The the morning. Poetry is the only visible part of the im. child, it is true, discovers no singing-bird in the cham. material soul the ray that emanates from the glorious bers of the watch ; and rarely indeed are the critic's essence it encircles. hopes gratified, if he has ventured to anticipate some But we are generalizing too much ; and, with coldhigher emanation of the spirit and the energy divine. blooded apathy, are keeping all this time three poets Bat, nevertheless, watches will tick, and poets will / anxiously waiti for our opinion on their respective scribble, to the end of time ; and to judge by the num- merits. As they are all very unlike each other, except ber of rhymes we have occasion to see almost every day, in the single circumstance that each, no doubt, believes there seems to be much less probability of the former himself possessed of a creditable portion of the divinus going too slow, than of the latter going too quick. afflatus, we must take the liberty of saying a few words

It matters not. Let poets of all shapes and sizes of them, separatim et seriatim. flourish! They are useful members of society, however The “Opening of the Sixth Scal” is a poem in blank small. Their lụcubrations are the safety valves by verse, founded upon a very sublime passage in “ Revewhich many a distressed mind is lightened of a thou. lations,” descriptive of the final dissolution of the globe. sand idle phantasies. If they did not write, they would The theme which the author particularly undertakes to die, or go distracted. . To them, pen, ink, and paper, illustrate, is the Last Judgmenta theme unquestionafford an intellectual stomach-pump. Nor do we speak ably replete with the finest materials of poetry, but which, it profanely, though perhaps we express it quaintly. though frequently attempted, has never been done jusThere is a substantial relief, and not unfrequently a po- tice to, because finite capacities must ever strive in vain sitive happiness, in being able to embody one's thoughts to describe the doings of Him who is infinite. The in words; and of the full extent of this happiness, author of the present poem informs us, in his preface, poets alone are aware. There are poets, no doubt, whó that he did not peruse Pollok's “Course of Time" unexist as poets only to themselves --whose deep feelings til he had “concluded his own task.” This declaration have been shut up, like the winds in the cave of Æolus, we certainly think was necessary to save him from the in the recesses of their own breast, who have walked charge of having borrowed part of his plan from that among other men_ among them, but not of them”- poem. Not only is there a pretty close resemblance beand knew not that they were formed differently from the tween certain passages in the “ Opening of the Sixth beings by whom they were surrounded,-knew not that Seal,” and certain others in the Course of Time," but the sights and sounds of external nature exercised a far the general tone and style of the former are far from deeper power over their senses,- knew not that they being unlike those of the latter. To the author indivi. possessed the gift of song, and that were the harp whose dually, this circumstance, being accidental, cannot be notes rung harsh beneath the touch of others, but placed charged as a fault; but as it brings his production into in their bands, they could, without an effort, make it closer comparison with a more comprehensive and powerdiscourse most eloquent music. It is seldom, however, ful work, it certainly is a misfortune.

66

As we have already hinted, we are inclined to ques. The iron sceptre over half the world, tion much whether the mysteries of a future judgment Grew great in arms, in wealth, in luxury, is a subject within the grasp even of a mind of the Then perished , at far distant times came forth very highest order,-a Milton's or a Dante's. Neither One, above all his race pre-eminent, do we think that different trains of thought, necessarily | A moment the frail destinies of man;

A mighty master spirit that would sway arising from a choice of different subjects, constitute A moment o'er the earth destructive stalk, different degrees of excellence in poetry. There is no

Lift his proud head, gem crowned, above the dust thing which proves, a priori, one person to be more of That was around him, and then like a dream a poet than another, merely because he chooses to write Scared by the day-star, fade away; raged wars, about the sun, moon, and stars, or any of the great con. Flamed fires, gleamed swords, smiled death; from age to vulsions and revolutions of nature, instead of the more

age familiar and better-understood objects and designs of Slept not the arrow, mouldered not the dart, creation. It is true, that more lofty language must ne

Nor was the bow unstrung upon the earth, cessarily be used in the one case than in the other ; but For many a rolling year. lofty language is not the proper test of genius, although

The next extract is still better; it describes the one it is perhaps too often confounded with originality of expected coming of the day of judgement :thought. A thousand powerful emotions must immediately arise, even in the most uninspired bosom, as That fatal morn, as it was wont, arose soon as the idea of a perishing world suggests itself; but Cloudless and beautiful; the balmy breath as soon as these emotions are put into words, they are Of vernal zephyrs, floating o'er the earth, found to be almost universal, and consequently are en- And mid the flowrets wantoning, with balm titled to be considered common-place. In like manner, Came laden, stealing on the burning cheek the sight of a dying flower suggests a train of reflections / That rose to look upon its sweetness ;-far which nobody would get any credit by claiming as his And wide the concert melody of birds, own, for they are the property of all; and the only dis- Where in their verdant canopy they sate, tinction between this case and the former is, that dying On every grassy spear, and leaf, and bough,

Hymned to the rising sun ; bright dew gems stood flowers being more frequently met with than dying And early choristers to Him above worlds, the associations necessarily connected with the Poured their shrill matins. In the meadows green one have been more frequently put on paper than those The fleecy flock to restless echoes flung as necessarily connected with the other. But he alone Their murmuring voices, and the lowing herd is the true poet to whom associations occur, whether Delighted hailed the coming of the day. about a flower or a world, which do not occur to ordi. And the sun rose in beauty ;-not in blood nary minds. The Omnipresence of the Deity is a su. Deep-dyed, nor half eclipsed, nor blotted o'er no more constitute poetry than the couplets concerning On his attendant planets, and his smile blime subject; but magniloquent truisms regarding it with fearful spots, huge, black, and ominous,

But with unsullied splendour, ardent smiled hearts and darts tacked to a boarding-school girl's love-Gladdened all nature ; rung the forest shades, letter. In short, it is not the subject that makes the Hills, vales, and mountains, with wild notes of joy ;poet;-it is the poet who must throw over the subject The Howret raised its little azure head, the mantle of his own genius, by which we mean that which night had kissed to sleep, to look on him, he must say something concerning it, which none of the And its pale leaf pictured the blushing hue, rest of the world would ever have said, but which, as Glowing with lustre not its own; so came soon as it is said for them, all admit to be true, because That morn upon one half the world. it awakens in their own bosoms a chord hitherto un.

And men touched.

From gentle sleep as wont awaking rose,
Sixth Seal," (and the test though just, is certainly Or thinking, dared believe ;-the unsullied sun,
If we apply this criterion to the “ Opening of the and to their many labours, with swift step,

Went heedlessly ; none thought of coming death,
somewhat severe,) we are afraid that in many respects His fervid rays down-scattering, rode on
it will be found wanting. The author's abilities are un-
questionably respectable, but not of that high and ori- So they went on their way.

His course undimmed,—then wherefore coming death ? ginal sort necessary to give a new and unhackneyed cha

The merchant then, racter to his theme. We have had, before now, a thou. The figured page revolving o'er and o'er, sand descriptions of the fallen state ot' man's nature, of Numbered his freighted argosies, and marked the approach of a final reckoning, of the disentombment What day they should return. The poet wrapt of the dead, of the millions congregated around the In his bright day-dreams, wooed the bashful muse, throne of an almighty judge, of the sentence passed upon Pouring his spirit's energy in song ;them, and of the agony of the wicked and the joy of the And, as he wove the tale of hapless maid good. Among our recent poets Pollok has dwelt upon Or fairy things, satyrs, and rustic elves,

Blighted in her affections, or the haunts these topics with most force and success. They are again In the pale moon-beam, by the trembling swain recurred to in the “Opening of the Sixth Seal," and Beheld at dead of night, in his mind's eye, in it Pollok, so far as we can see, is no where surpassed. Gazed he upon his fame in after years It is but justice, however, to this later author to state our When listening nations should applaud his song, opinion, that he in several instances comes very near And millions echo forth his deathless name. his prototype. In proof of this statement, we quote the Then on his watch-tower sitting, far up-raised following passages :

From earth, the sage astronomer looked up

Where many an eye hath gazed, and many a thought So man, engulphed in sin, from age to age,

In its wild wanderings struggled to approach ;
Went on his fearful course, and vengeance slept, And, with strain’d vision, through the optic tube
By Mercy soothed to rest ; unchanging still,

Stedfastly gazing, in his pride survey'd
The seasons in their ceaseless dance went round, The lamp of day, and many times turnd he,
And the earth yielded up her increase; man

And computations strange and intricate
Restless alone, laboured incessantly

Made frequent, oft rejoicing to unfold To find a change for he sought out new lands,

How, on some certain moment, there would be Explored new regions, wandered on the seas,

A great eclipse, how comets would appear Encreased in knowledge much, in science much, Roaming in ether, and to vulgar souls And in sin more. Nations arose in might,

Bring doubt, and dread, and fear; oft noted he Gloried a while above their fellows, waved

The path where planetary orbs would roll

a

pathos.

In future years, and glorying in his skill,

ness and polish to his thoughts and versification by the Thought he his name immortal.

occasional introduction of a more tender and delicate Then youth and virgin innocence went forth

train of ideas. The poem of the “ African,” which is To look upon the vernal morn, and smile,

not so much narrative as descriptive, illustrates the truth Because all nature smiled, and oft rejoiced In its own loveliness ;-with fairy step

of this remark. A bridal party of Africans are sure Over the meadow green the maiden swept

prised one summer evening in the midst of their festi. Heedless and guileless, and her blue eye gazed

val by the unexpected appearance of a troop of SpaniUpon the azure vault more deeply dyed,

ards who have just landed. An affray immediately And for a while drank in the soften d hue

takes place, (why is not explained,) and Zemma, the Of what it look'd upon ; o'er her fair cheek,

bride of the African chief, is mortally wounded. She With many a dimpling smile array'd, the blush is carried during the night farther into the country, Of morning stole, and yet a deeper glow

where she dies in the arms of her betrothed. At sunFlung on its beauties. In her spirit's joy,

rise, the Africans, headed by their bereaved prince, re. And youth and health delighted she, and breathed turn to renew the fight with the Spaniards, and inspired Melodious strains that charm'd the listening ear,

by the courage which a desire for vengeance prompts, And with the general concert went to Heaven.

their foes are massacred to a man. Zarrum then goes back But some there were, a solitary few, For the last moment waiting, and in

to the grave of Zemma, and puts an end to his existence

prayer, And watch, and fasting, look'd they for the Lamb

at the spot where she is buried. These are all the When he should come in Glory ; and they saw

incidents of the three cantos ; but meagre as they are, The cloudless sun and gladsome morn arise,

one would think they afforded scope for considerable With faith unshaken, for believers knew

It is in the stornier part of the story, however, His word would never fail. And still they watch'd, that our author excels,-in the heat of battle, and in And prayed, and fasted, and with trembling hope the stern breathings of despair and hate. It may be Awaited their Redeemer.

that we are prejudiced enough not to be able to symThere is considerable power also in the lines which pathise so much as we ought to do in the woes of a pair follow on the subject of dreams :

of sable lovers ; but we also suspect that Mr Moore does

not know exactly how to touch the right chord. The Oh! have ye never, in the mid-watch hour,

feelings are somewhat different from the passions; and When leaden sleep lies heavy on the brow,

it is with the latter that our author seems principally And the blood, fever'd, through the throbbing pulse

conversant. Here and there, however, he succeeds even Rushes convulsively, some dreary dream

in his appeal to the former. The following stanzas, Pictured in the night glooms all dim and dull,

descriptive of the state of Zarrum's sentiments, after the Yet seeming terrible, when thought hath glanced, While the frame slumbereth, to another sphere,

Spaniards have been defeated, appear to us natural, But not of bliss, and wandereth up and down

without being common-place : A dark and desolate void, where never light

Lone, as a shadowy being of the grave,' Speedeth, and where the wanderings never end.

The chieftain lingered on the uplands gray; Then the sleep-woven spectre of the soul,

He stood in silence, gazing on the wave After long struggling, wingeth from the void,

That iningled with the broad sky, far away ; To seek new horrors, and far off ye see

The foe that stemm'd it in their proud array, Strange visionary forms, that not of earth

Were lying lifeless on its sandy plain ; Nor of heaven be, and they all noiseless flit

Nought meets his aching eyeballs, while they stray, Before, behind, above, beneath ye there,

But those dull ranks that ne'er shall wake again, A host, innumerable as the ocean-sands;

And his dark warrior host re-mingling with the slain. Their spectral hues flame-painted, and the glare Of their fire-flashing eyes, most fearfully

Weeds which the vulture in his flight had sown Rack the hag-haunted breast, till from her sleep

On the dark cliffs, some thousand years ago, Nature upstarteth with the agony,

Nursed now by time, like spectres, waved alone And, shuddering, ye recall the unearthly forms,

Their solitary branches to and fro, And ponder on their hues, sickening the soul,

They seemed to wail his spirit's overthrow! Till ye look on them as the things that were.

Beneath their mournful shade he took his stand; These specimens will suffice to show that the “Open Yet e’er he parted from this world of woe, ing of the Sixth Seal" is far from being a very milk.

He bent one look upon his fathers' land

One long, one farewell glance, upon his kindred band. and-water production. Indeed, had Pollok never writ. ten, we think it not unlikely that it would have attract Sonie, he saw wandering with restless foot ed much of that attention which has been bestowed on Among the gory corses of the dead ; him ; but we are afraid he has pre-occupied the field, While others lean'd upon their falchions, mute, and that he deserves to remain in possession of it. Seve. As if they thought on some dear object fed ; ral minor poems are added to the “ Opening of the Sixth And lovers rush'd, all ecstacy, to shed Seal,” which it would have been better if the author had He thought upon his virgin's dreary bed

Their souls into each other. As he gazed, omitted, for they are of an inferior character.

His morning shrine, where love's first incense blazed, We come now to speak of “ The African and other Death's desolating hand had to its ashes razed ! Poems.” The “ African" is a tale in the Spenserian stanza, and is the production of Mr Dugald Moore of Those sights were not for him-he turned away Glasgow. We are beginning to entertain a consider- To worship sorrow in the solitude; able respect for the genius of Glasgow, for this is neither He left the mountain's brink, and moon-lit ray, the first nor the second poet we have already met with Now by that solitary heap he stood,

And plunged into the darkness of the wood; since the commencement of our labours, who has start

While o'er the midnight desert of his mind ed up in that city. The present volume contains, we Crept all the tenderness of woman's moodbelieve, the primitiæ of Me Moore's pen; and we have Those tears dissolved the ties that long had joined formed from them so favourable an opinion of its pow. His proud but gentle soul to live with human kind. ers, that we hope its first fruits will not be its last. "The leading characteristic of Mr Moore's style is its strength,

A page or two farther on, the two lovers are thus spo. or a certain hard and forcible manner of expressing the

ken of: ideas he wishes to convey to his reader. His leading Soon will the desert know them not; their home fault is, that he seeins scarcely capable of giving soft- Is in the narrow house ;-yet where they lie

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