Imágenes de páginas

gion, in the holier recess of which the great Goddess assisted without contradicting our natural vision, and personally resided. Himself too he bade me reverence, enabled us to see far beyond the limits of the Valley as the consecrated minister of her rites. Awe-struck of Life: though our eye even thus assisted permitted by the name of Religion, I bowed before the priest, us only to behold a light and a glory, but what we and humbly and earnestly entreated him to conduct could not descry, save only that it was, and that it mne into her presence. He assented. Offerings he took was most glorious. from me, with mystic sprinklings of water and with And now, with the rapid transition of a dream, I salt he purified, and with strange sufflations he ex- had overtaken and rejoined the more numerous party orcised me; and then led me through many dark who had abruptly left us, indignant at the very name and winding alley, the dew-damps of which chilled of religion. They journeyed on, goading each other my flesh, and the hollow. echoes under my feet, with remembrances of past oppressions, and never mingled, methought, with moanings, affrighted me. looking back, till in the eagerness to recede from the At length we entered a large hall, without window, Temple of Superstition, they had rounded the whole of spiracle, or lamp. The asylum and dormitory it circle of the valley. And lo! there faced us the seemed of perennial night-only that the walls were mouth of a vast cavern, at the base of a lofty and brought to the eye by a number of self-luminous almost perpendicular rock, the interior side of which, inscriptions in letters of a pale pulchral light, that unknown to them, and unsuspected, formed the exheld strange neutrality with the darkness, on the treme and backward wall of the Temple. An im. verge of which it kept its rayless vigil. I could read patient crowd, we entered the vast and dusky cave them, methought; but though each one of the words which was the only perforation of the precipice. taken separately I seemed to understand, yet when I At the mouth of the cave sale two figures; the first, took them in sentences, they were riddles and in- by her dress and gestures, I knew to be SENSUALITY; comprehensible. As I stood meditating on these hard the second form, from the fierceness of his demeanor, sayings, my guide thus addressed me—Read and be- and the brutal scornfulness of his looks, declared lieve: these are mysteries -At the extremity of the himself to be the monster BlasPHEMY. He uttered vast hall the Goddess was placed. Her features, blend. big words, and yet ever and anon I observed that he ed with darkness, rose out to my view, terrible, yet turned pale at his own courage. We entered. Some vacant. I prostrated myself before her, and then remained in the opening of the cave, with the one or retired with my guide, soul-withered, and wondering, the other of its guardians. The rest, and I among and dissatisfied.

them, pressed on, till we reached an ample chamber, As I re-entered the body of the temple, I heard a that seemed the centre of the rock. The climate of deep buzz as of discontent. A few whose eyes were the place was unnaturally cold. bright, and either piercing or steady, and whose In the furthest distance of the chamber sate an ample foreheads, with the weighty bar, ridge-like, old dim-eyed man, poring with a microscope over above the eyebrows, bespoke observation followed the Torso of a statue which had neither basis, nor by meditative thought; and a much larger number, feet, nor head; but on its breast was carved Nature! who were enraged by the severity and insolence of To this he continually applied his glass, and seemed the priests in exacting their offerings, had collected enraptured with the various inequalities which it in one tumultuous group, and with a confused outery rendered visible on the seemingly polished surface of this is the Temple of Superstition!” after much of the marble.—Yet evermore was this delight and contumely, and turmoil, and cruel maltreatment on triumph followed by expressions of hatred, and veall sdes, rushed out of the pile : and I, methought, hement railings against a Being, who yet, he assured joined them.

us, had no existence. This mystery suddenly recalled We speeded from the Temple with hasty steps, 10 me what I had read in the Holiest Recess of the and had now nearly gone round half the valley, temple of Superstition. The old man spoke in divers when we were addressed by a woman, tall beyond tongues, and continued to utter other and most strange the stature of mortals, and with a something more mysteries. Among the rest he talked much and vethan human in her countenance and mien, which yet hemently concerning an infinite series of causes and could by mortals be only felt, not conveyed by words effects, which he explained to be a string of blind ir intelligibly distinguished. Deep reflection, ani- men, the last of whom caught hold of the skirt maied by ardent feelings, was displayed in them: of the one before him, he of the next, and so on till and hope, without its uncertainty, and a something they were all out of sight: and that they all walked tire than all these, which I understood not, but infallibly straight, without making one false stop, which yet seemed to blend all these into a divine though all were alike blind. Methought I borrowed wity of expression. Her garments were white and courage from surprise, and asked him, —Who then is Thatronly, and of the simplest texture. We inquired at the head to guide them? He looked at me with her name. My name, she replied, is Religion. ineffable contempt, not unmixed with an angry sus

The more numerous part of our company, affright- picion, and then replied, “ No one. The string of ed hy the very sound, and sore from recent impostures blind men went on for ever without any beginning. or sorreries, hurried onwards and examined no far- for although one blind man could not move without ther. A few of us, struck by the manifest opposition stumbling, yet infinite blindness supplied the want of of her form and manners to those of the living sight." I burst into laughter, which instantly turned to dl, whom we had so recently abjured, agreed to terror—for as he staried forward in rage, I caught 6, ow her, though with cautious circumspection. a glance of him from behind; and lo! I beheld a Me led us to an eminence in the midst of the valley, monster biform and Janus-headed, in the hinder face froin the top of which we could command the whole and shape of which I instantly recognized the dreal plain and observe the relation of the different parts countenance of SUPERSTITION—and in the terror I of each to the other, and of each to the whole, and awoke. of all to each. She then gave us an optic glass which








No! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask

pardon for our presumption in expecting that Mr.OR “JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, JOHN."

would waste his sense on two insignificant girls. SCENE :-A spacious drawing-room, with music-room adjoining

Well, well, I will be serious. Hem! Now then

commences the discourse ; Mr. Moore's song being CATHERINE.

the text. Love, as distinguished from Friendship, on What are the words?

the one hand, and from the passion that too often ELIZA.

usurps its name, on the otherAsk our friend, the Improvisatore; here he comes :

LUCIUS. Kate has a favor to ask of you, Sir; it is that you (Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a will repeat the ballad that Mr. sung so sweetly. whisper to the Friend). But is not Love the union of

both ? It is in Moore's Irish Melodies; but I do not re

FRIEND (aside to LUCIUS). collect the words distinctly. The moral of them, He never loved who thinks so. however, I take to be this

ELIZA. Love would remain the same if true,

Brother, we don't want you. There ! Mrs. H. canWhen we were peither young nor new :

not arrange the flower-vase without you. Thank you, Yea, and in all within the will that came,

Mrs. Hartman.
By the same proofs would show itself the same.


I'll have my revenge! I know what I will say! What are the lines you repeated from Beaumont and Fletcher, which my brother admired so much?

Off! off! Now dear sir,-Love, you were sayingIt begins with something about two vines so close

FRIEND. that their tendrils intermingle.

Hush! Preaching, you mean, Eliza

ELIZA (impatiently).
You mean Charles' speech to Angelina, in “ the Pshaw!
Elder Brother."
We'll live together, like our two neighbor'vines,

Well then, I was saying that Love, truly such, is Circling our souls and loves in one another!

itself not the most common thing in the world: and We'll spring together, and we'll bear one fruit;

mutual love still less so. But that enduring personal One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn!

attachment, so beautifully delineated by Erin's sweet One age go with us, and one hour of death Shall close our eyes, and one grave make us happy.

melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the

well-known ballad, “ John Anderson, my jo. John," A precious boon, that would go far to reconcile in addition to a depth and constancy of character of one to old age—this love, if true! But is there any bility and tenderness of nature ; a constitutional com

no every-day occurrence, supposes a peculiar sensisuch true love ?

municativeness and utterancy of heart and soul; a I hope so.

delight in the detail of sympathy, in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament within—to count, as it

were, the pulses of the life of love. But above all, it But do you believe it?

supposes a soul which, even in the pride and sunELIZA (eagerly).

mer-tide of life-even in the lustihood of health and I am sure he does.

strength, had felt oftenest and prized highest that

which age cannot take away, and which in all our From a man turned of fifty, Catherine, I imagine, lovings, is the Love ; expects a less confident answer.


There is something here (pointing to her heart that A more sincere one, perhaps.

seems to understand you, but wants the word thas

would make it understand itself. Even though he should have obtained the nickname of Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and

I, too, seem to feel what you mean. Interpret the extempore verses at Christmas times ?

feeling for us.

I mean that willing sense of the insufficing. Nay, but be serious.

ness of the self for itself, which predisposes a generFRIEND.

ous nature to see, in the total being of another, the Serious ? Doubtless. A grave personage of my supplement and completion of its own—that quiet years giving a love-lecture to two young ladies, can- perpetual seeking which the presence of the beloved not well be otherwise. The difficulty, I suspect, object modulates, not suspends, where the heart mowould be for them to remain so. It will be asked mently finds, and, finding, again seeks on-lastly whether I am not the “ elderly gentleman" who sate when “ life's changeful orb has pass'd the full," a “ despairing beside a clear stream,” with a willow confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus for his wig-block.

brought home and pressed, as it were, to the very ELIZA.

bosom of hourly experience: it supposes, I say, a Say another word, and we will call it downright heart-felt reverence for worth, not the less deep le affectation.

cause divested of its solemnity by habit, by familiar.









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ity, by mutual infirmities, and even by a feeling of guise of playful raillery, and the countless other modesty which will arise in delicate nunds, when infinitesimals of pleasurable thought and genial they are conscious of possessing the same or the feeling. correspondent excellence in their own characters. In short, there must be a mind, which, while it feels

Well, Sir ; you have said quite enough to make me the beautiful and the excellent in the beloved as its despair of finding a “ John Anderson, my jo, John," own, and by right' of love appropriates it, can call to totter down the hill of life with. Goodness its Playfellow, and dares make sport of time and infirmity, while, in the person of a thou

Not so! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer sand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for aged Virtue than good women, but that what another would find the caressing fondness that belongs to the INNOCENCE of childhood, and repeat the same attentions and in you, you may hope to find in another. But well. tender courtesies as had been dictated by the same

however, may that boon be rare, the possession of affection to the same object when attired in feminine which would be more than an adequate reward for loveliness or in manly beauty.

the rarest virtue. ELIZA.

Surely, he who has described it so beautifully, What a soothing-what an elevating idea!

must have possessed it?





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If it be not only an idea.

If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had

believingly anticipated and not found it, how bitter At all events, these qualities which I have enumer- the disappointment! ated, are rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it be, that two such in

(Then, after a pause of a few minutes). dividuals should meet together in this wide world

ANSWER (ex improviso). under circumstances that admit of their union as Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat, Husband and Wife! A person may be highly estima. He had, or fancied that he had ; ble on the whole, nay, amiable as neighbor, friend, Say, 't was but in his own conceithousemate-in short, in all the concentric circles of

The fancy made him glad! attachment, save only the last and inmost; and yet Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish! from how many causes be estranged from the highest The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish! perfection in this! Pride, coldness or fastidionsness | The fair fulfilment of his poesy, of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or ambitious dis- When his young heart first yearn’d for sympathy. position, a passion for display, a sullen temperone or the other—100 often proves“ the dead fly in the But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain compost of spices," and any one is enough to unfit it

Unnourish'd wane! for the precious balm of unction. For some mighty Faith asks her daily bread, good sort of people, too, there is not seldom a sort of And Fancy must be fed ! solemn saturnine, or, if you will, ursine vanity, that Now so it chanced—from wet or dry, keep itself alive by sucking the paws of its own self. It boois not how, I know not whyimportance. And as this high sense, or rather sensa. She miss'd her wonted food : and quickly tion of their own value is, for the most part, ground. Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly. ed on negative qualities, so they have no better means Then came a restless state, 't wixt yea ar igo of preserving the same but by negatives—that is, by Ilis faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and yw,' not doing or saying any thing, that might be put down Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay for fond, silly, or nonsensical,—or (10 use their own Above its anchor driving to and fro. phrase) by never forgetting themselves, which some of their acquainjance are uncharitable enough to think the most worthless object they could be employed in That boon, which but to have possess'd remembering.

In a belief, gave lise a zest

Uncertain both what it had been, ELIZA (in answer to a whisper from CATHERINE).

And if by error lost, or luck; To a hair! He must have sate for it himself. Save And what it was man evergreen me from such folks! But they are out of the question. Which some insidious blight had struck,

Or annual flower, which past its blow True! but the same effect is produced in thousands No vernal spell shall e'er revive; by the too general insensibility to a very important Uncertain, and afraid 10 know, truth; this, namely, that the misERY of human lise is Doubts toss'd him to and fro; made up of large masses, each separated from the Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive, vther by certain intervals. One year, the death of a Like babes bewilder'd in a snow, child ; years after, a failure in trade; after another That cling and huddle from the cold longer or shorter interval, a daughter may have In hollow tree or ruin'd fold. married unhappily ;-in all but the singularly unfortunate, the integral parts that compose the sum Those sparkling colors, once his boast, wtal of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily Fading, one by one away, counted, and distinctly remembered. The HAPPINESS Thin and hueless as a ghost, of life, on the contrary, is made up of minute frac- Poor Fancy on her sick-bed lay , tions—the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a ni at distance, worse when near, smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the dis- Telling her dreams to jealous Fear'

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Where was it then, the sociable sprite

Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish! of manhood, musing what and whence is man Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish,

Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves Itself a substance by no other right

Rehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves But that it intercepled Reason's light;

Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
It dimin'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow, That callid on Hertha in deep forest glades;
A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow!

Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's seast; Thank Heaven! 't is not so now.

Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest,
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,

To high-church pacing on the great saint's day. O bliss of blissful hours !

And many a verse which to myself I sang, The boon of Heaven's decreeing,

That woke the tear, yet stole away the pang,
While yet in Eden's bowers

Of hopes which in lamenting I renew'd.
Dwelt ihe First Husband and his sinless Mate! And last, a matron now, of sober mien,
The one sweet plant which, piteous Heaven agreeing, Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen,
They bore with them through Eden's closing gate! Whom as a faëry child my childhood wood
of life's gay summer-tide the sovran Rose ! Even in my dawn of thought-Philosophy.
Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows Though then unconscious of herself, pardie,
When Passion's flowers all fall or fade ;

She bore no other name than Poesy;
If this were ever his, in outward being,

And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee, Or but his own true love's projected shade, That had but newly left a mother's knee, Now, that at length by certain proof he knows, Prattled and play'd with bird and flower, and stone. That whether real or magic show,

As if with ellin playfellows well known,
Whate'er it was, it is no longer so;

And life reveal'd to innocence alone.
Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low,
Yet, Lady! deem him not unblest :
The certainty that struck Hope dead,

Thanks, gentle artist! now I can descry
Hath left Contentment in her stead:

Thy fair creation with a mastering eye, And that is next to best!

And all awake! And now in fix'd gaze stand,

Now wander through the Eden of thy hand;
Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear
See fragment shadows of the crossing deer,
And with that serviceable nymph I stoop,

The crystal from its restless pool to scoop.
THE GARDEN OF BOCCACCIO. I see no longer! I myself am there,

Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share. Of late, in one of those most weary hours,

'Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings, When life seems emptied of all genial powers, And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings : A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells May bless his happy lot, I sate alone ;

From the high tower, and think that there she dwells And, from the numbing spell to win relief,

With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possest, Call'd on the past for thought of glee or grief.

And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest 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, The brightness of the world, O thou once free, Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake; And always fair, rare land of courtesy ! O Friend! long wont to notice yet conceal, 0, Florence! with the Tuscan fields and hills ! And soothe by silence what words cannot heal, And famous Arno fed with all their rills; I but half saw that quiet hand of thine

Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy! Place on my desk this exquisite design,

Rich, ornate, populous, all treasures thine, Boccaccio's Garden and its faëry,

The golden corn, the olive, and the vine. The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry! Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old, An Idyll, with Boccaccio's spirit warm,

And forests, where beside his leafy hold Framed in the silent poesy of form.

The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn, Like flocks adown a newly-bained steep

And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn, Emerging from a mist: or like a stream Palladian palace with its storied halls; Of music soft that not dispels the sleep,

Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream, Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span, Gazed by an idle eye with silent might

And Nature makes her happy home with man; The picture stole upon my inward sight.

Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed A tremulous warmth crepe gradual o'er my chest, With its own rill, on its own spangled bed, As though an infant's finger touch'd my breast. And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head, And one by one (I know not whence) were brought A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thought. Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn, In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost

Thine all delights, and every muse is thine: Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost;

And more than all, the embrace and intertwine Or charm'd my youth, that kindled from above, Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance' Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love; | 'Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance

See ! Boccace sits, unfolding on his knees

of poetry, to observe, that in the attempt to adapt the The new-found roll of old Mæonides ;*

Greek metres to the English language, we must begin But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart, by substituting quality of sound for quantity – that is, Peers Ovid's Holy Book of Love's sweet smart! accentuated or comparatively emphasized syllables,

for what, in the Greek and Latin verse, are named O all-enjoying and all-blending sage, Long be it mine to con thy mazy page,

long, and of which the prosodial mark is ~; and vice

versà, unaccentuated syllables for short, marked. Where, half conceald, the eye of fancy views Fauns, nymphs, and winged saints, all gracious to thy the spondee, composed of two long syllables, and the

Now the hexameter verse consists of two sorts of feet, muse!

dactyl, composed of one long syllable followed by two Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks, short. The following verse from the Psalms, is a rare And see in Dian's vest between the ranks

instance of a perfect hexameter (i. e. line of six feet) Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes in the English language :The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves,

Gūd came up with ā | shout : our Lord with With that sly satyr peering through the leaves ! thē | sound of ā | trūmpēt.

But so few are the truly spondaic words in our language, such as Egypt, uprūar, tūrmūil, &c., that we

are compelled to substitute, in most instances, the MY BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY.

trochee, or - ă, i.e. such words as mērrý, lightlý, &c.

for the proper spondee. It need only be added, that LINES COMPOSED ON A SICK BED, UNDER SEVERE in the hexameter the fifth foot must be a dactyl, and

BODILY SUFFERING, ON MY SPIRITUAL BIRTH-DAY, the sixth a spondee, or trochee. I will end this note OCTOBER 28th.

with two hexameter lines, likewise from the Psalma.

There is a rivěr thč | Mowing where I ūf shall | Bow unto God in Christ, in Christ, my ALL!

gladdền the city. What, that Earth boasts, were not lost cheaply, rather

Hāllē | lūjăh thě | city of God Jēbūvăh! hăth | Than forfeit that blest Name, by which we call

blēst hěr.j
The Holy ONE, the Almighty God, OUR FATHER ?
Father! in Christ we live and Christ in Thee :
Eternal Thou, and everlasting We!

The Heir of Heaven, henceforth I dread not Death, Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse
In Christ I live, in Christ I draw the breath

and the mother, or the true Life. Let Sea, and Earth, and Sky Hail! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and, Wage war against me: on my front I show

blessing, I hymn thee! Their mighty Master's seal! In vain they try Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my voice To end my Life, who can but end its Woe.

shall float on your surges —

Soar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on Is that a Death-bed, where the Christian lies?

thy pinionis. Yes! - But not his: 'Tis Death itself there dies.

Travelling the vale with mine eyes-green meadows,

and lake with green island, Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream flowing

in brightness, FRAGMENTS

Thrilled with thy beauty and love, in the wooded slope FROM THE WRECK OF MEMORY:

of the mountain,

Here, Great Mother, I lie, thy child with its head on PORTIONS OF POEMS COMPOSED IN EARLY MANHOOD.

thy bosom!

Playful the spirits of noon, that creep or rush through ¡NOTE. - It may not be without use or interest to

thy tresses : youthful, and especially to intelligent female readers Green-haired Goddess ! refresh me; and hark! as they

hurry or linger, * Boccaccio claimed for himself the glory of having first in- Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with musical troduced the works of Homer to his countrymen.

I know few more striking or more interesting proofs of the sterwhelming influence which the study of the Greek and Ro- Into my being thou murmurest joy; and tenderest man classics exercised on the judgments, feelings, and imagi- sadness matoes of the literati of Europe at the commencement of the Shed'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and oration of literature, than the passage in the Filocopo of Breaccio; where the sake instructor, Racheo, as soon as the

the heavenly gladness Frane prince and the beautiful girl Biancafiore had learned Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the the leters, sets them to study the Holy Book, Ocid's Art of hymns of thanksgiving. Lme. Inconucio Racheo a mettere il suo officio in essecu- Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse Esse con intera sollecitudine. E loro, in breve tempo, inseg. sato a cunoscer le lettere, fece legere il santo libro d'Orvidio,

and the mother, nel quale il sommo poeta vostra, come i santi fuochi di Ve Sister thou of the Stars, and beloved by the sun, the at a debbano ne freddi cuori occendere."


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