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were the words of the Greek poet so applicable as to him,

ὕβρις, ην

πολλων ὑπερπλησθη ματαν,
'Α μη 'πικαιρα μηδε συμφέροντα,
Ακροταταν εισαναβας αποτομον
Ανωρισεν εις αναγκαν.

The humiliation of Prussia has been the most profound; her prince_had been degraded into a mere cipher; her cities unremittingly spoiled by a succession of brutal generals; and every sentiment, national as well as manly, which could pave the way to vengeance, had been rivetted in the heart of every subject, by Napoleon's unworthy treatment of the queen. It was fitting that in Prussia also the first manifestation of these feelings should break forth. When, after an unequalled series of calamities, defeats, and degradations, it at last became visible to the people of Germany, that their governments might yet, by one bold and simultaneous struggle, accomplish that which, in spite of them, had been so well begun, an appeal was made, first tacitly and then openly, to the King of Prussia, which, to his eternal shame be it spoken, he did not hear with that promptness and decision of purpose, which suited alike his own interest and the inclination of his people. It is well known that his person was in danger at Berlin, before he yielded to the popular voice and put himself at the head of the army of Silesia. By the influence of the memorable society of virtue (the Tugend-bund), and now by the artful, though energetic, proclamations of Frederick-William, a sentiment of enthusiasm, equal to that which fires the bosoms of religious martyrs, was kindled in the breast of noble, merchant, and peasant. The old barriers of custom, precedence, and dignity, fell away, like gossamer webs, before the strong breath of necessity. Armies were to be made, and the sovereign had it no longer in his power to criticise in his war-office, the quarterings of those who were willing to assume his uniform. A time was come in which barons, burghers, and Jews, became aware that, as their cause was the same, their exertions should be equal. What Frederick-William did, at the opening of the campaign, the sovereigns of Baden, Wurtemberg, and Bavaria, were compelled by their sol

diers to do before its close. The spirit which had been conjured up was one too powerful to be controlled by those who had evoked it. The course of events proceeded. The spectacle which Germany exhibited in the year 1813, has never been equalled since the days of Marathon and Salamis. It was not suspected by the sovereigns of the country, that the future results of the enthusiasm should bear so near a resemblance to that of those first struggles of Athenian patriotism. They who presided at the great national conflicts of Lutzen, Leipsic, and Hanau, will learn ere long, that on those terrible days the Germans fought for themselves as well as for their princes.

Among the motley multitude who crowded in those animating days to the standards of their country, the most remarkable and grotesque, and certainly not the least efficient, consisted of the students of the German universities. For the first time in modern ages, professors became the military leaders of their pupils, and Körner and Wolfe performed the same part among the Landwehr, which Æschylus did at Salamis, and Socrates at Platoea. Who can wonder to hear that the survivors did not return to their academic bowers the same beings as they left them? Their souls had been moved in the strong current of the world. To the spirit of enthusiasm wherewith they had of old been imbued, there was now added the sense of power, and the commanding energy of will. They have learned what they can do themselves. They have acquired the still more important knowledge, that they are not an isolated set of beings, cut off from men, and devoted to books that they are in truth the same people with those around them; that their interests, their wishes, their passions, and their powers, are the same. In the retirement to which they have returned, they can no longer muster by beat of drum, and mingle in the tumults of the real battle; but they who have seen the warlike aspect of their persons and amusements, their beards, their sabres, and their fencing-schools, will have no difficulty in perceiving that these men do not look upon themselves as for ever done with war. He will observe in them the determination to wait till the moment come, and then, rising as before with one irresistible impulse, to drive every thing before

them that opposes right. From the intercourse of those campaigns, the hussar derived illumination, and the scholar firmness. The chief defect of German minds was supplied by the fortuitous reunion of those too long separated powers-reflection and ardour. The late tumults of rejoicing patriotism, with which the day of the reformation was celebrated at Jena, at Leipsic, and at Berlin, is proof sufficient of a secret understanding, and a good omen of what may yet be done, when the day, not for words, but for action, shall arrive.

Of all the oppressions by which the spirit of the enlightened and manly Germans are irritated, the most galling and insufferable is that occasioned by the preposterous privileges of the nobility. A class such as this-numerous without limit, idle, and excluded from most of the useful professions-to a liberal and generous nation, even the lower orders of whose society are distinguished by very excellent education and by universal habits of reading, is a nuisance beyond imagination intolerable, insulting, and absurd. The financial distresses of Austria have produced at least one happy effect, by rendering it absolutely necessary for the imperial government to redeem the profession of the merchant from that disgraceful situation, in which, throughout the other monarchies of Germany, it is placed. In Bavaria and Saxony also, some approximations have of late been made to the introduction of a more liberal state of affairs,-in consequence, I suppose, in the former of these countries, of the great acuteness and penetration of the reigning monarch; and in the latter, of the flourishing condition of the trade of Saxony, and the secret wishes of the nobles themselves to participate, without degradation, in the profits which it affords. Count Bühl, the descendant of the celebrated prime minister of the last Polish Augustus, is at this moment understood (although his name is suppressed in every firm) to be one of the first merchants in the wool trade; by which wise measure he has, in a great degree, restored the dilapidated wealth of his illustrious family; and it is expected, that in a few years the Saxon gentlemen will be legally permitted to engage in trade, without forfeiting any of the lustre of their birth. In Prussia, the privileges of the nobility have at all times

been more distressing than in any other of the great German States; their freedom from all imposts amounting to a terrible piece of oppression on all the other orders of society. FrederickWilliam was obliged to throw his army open to every one in the year 1813, and he promised at that time, that neither the military, nor any other of the offensive parts of their privileges, should ever be restored. It is distressing to relate, that a virtual recall of all these promises has since taken place; for an edict has been uttered, preventing the rise of any man, not nobly born, to any rank higher than that of a sublieutenant. But the most disagreeable narrative to British ears is that which details the situation of Hanover. So far from the state of the nobility being altered in conformity to the spirit of the age, whatever alterations have occurred in that country have all tended exactly the other way. Till the present reign, one place in the supreme council was always open to all Hanoverian subjects; in the days of George III. it, like all the other six, has been declared to belong exclusively to the noblesse. Hanover is a small, and by no means a rich country, but its inhabitants are among the best educated and most moral people in the world; and as the soil is in every part excellent, the greatest possible facility is by nature afforded to every sort of agricultural and political improvement. But so long as the whole gentry of the country are prevented from occupying themselves, without degradation, in commerce; so long as the predilections of the reigning family render necessary the maintenance of the present enormously disproportionate military force, a complete stop is put to every rational prospect of good. I am unwilling to say much upon this subject, for I gladly acquit our Royal Family of having any seriously bad intentions. But surely their residence in our free and happy country might have been expected to produce impressions on their minds, sufficient to prevent them from pursuing a system of conduct which renders their native province, at this moment, the worst cultivated, and, without any exception, the most nobleridden district of Northern Germany. Compare Hanover with Weimar, Gotha, or even with the kingdom of Saxony, and it is impossible not to lament over the miserable contrast.

Before the French despotism was established over the German States bordering on the Rhine, only one of these States could be said to possess a good constitution. This was Wurtemberg-the constitution of which, Mr Pitt once said, was the best in the world next to that of England. With the assistance of Napoleon, the representatives of the nobility and people were deprived, by the sovereign family, of the share which they had always had in the government of their country, and a pure monarchy was established. In other words, Wurtemberg became a mere department of France. After Louis XVIII. had re-ascended the throne of his fathers, the people of this German State saw no reason why the tyranny established by Bonaparte among them should survive the other institutions of his despotism; since that period, a perpetual struggle has subsisted between them and their king; and, notwithstanding all the alliances by which he has fortified himself, I have very little doubt as to the mode in which it will terminate.

The Prussians, the Bavarians, the Wurtembergers, and the people of Baden, have all been promised representative constitutions by their princes. The fulfilment of these promises has been deferred from year to year; and, in some instances, this has been accompanied with measures of royal violence, and testifications of popular displeasure, which leave but too much reason to doubt, whether the result of the approaching Congress at Dusselsdorf, will be more soothing to the general mind than those of the similar meetings which have already been held at Frankfort and Vienna.

The plans which have as yet been suggested by the political writers in Germany, are, I think, all alike visionary and impracticable. The best of all these authors, Scheffer, whose book you should certainly read, proposes, very seriously, the establishment of a great national confederacy, to consist of all the German States, excepting Austria and Bavaria. The princes of these countries, he observes, should not be permitted to join the confederacy, for several reasons-Their subjects are not all Germans; and the greater part of their territories have always been accustomed to a mere military government. But has Mr Scheffer forgotten the difficulties which

must, in any case, attend the establishment of a confederacy of Independent States? or does he conceal from himself how greatly these difficulties must, in the present instance, be increased by the determined opposition of the first and third power in Germany? to say nothing of the insuperable objections which all Saxons and Hanoverians will feel to the erection of a system which could not fail to add new weight to the already odious superiority of Prussia. The thing is quite impossible-I do not hesitate to say so, although I am quite sensible that I have no better plan to suggest.

Something, however, must be done. If Frederick-William, and Prince Hardenberg, and the petty Princes of Wurtemberg and Baden, do not hasten to do what they have promised, the work will very soon be taken out of their hands. The national independence of Germany is an object of much concern to every enlightened German, but civil rights, and internal repose, are yet dearer to him. The privileges of the nobility must, in the first place, be lessened, commerce must be rendered honourable, and every part of the educated and enlightened people must somehow find its organ in the deliberative assembly of the State. All this has been solemnly promised and patiently waited for. The silence which at present prevails, is the best proof that the public of Germany are firm, resolved, and confident. Let the Congress of Dusselsdorf do their duty, and all is well. If not, the time shall soon have gone by, when restitution might have prevented the necessity of revenge.

If the Germans have a Revolution, it will, I hope and trust, be calm and rational, when compared with that of the French. Its precursors have not been, as in France, ridicule, raillery, derision, impiety; but sober reflection, Christian confidence, and manly resolutions, gathered and confirmed by the experience of many sorrowful years. The sentiment is so universally diffused-so seriously established--so irresistible in its unity,-that I confess I should be greatly delighted, but not very much astonished, to hear of the mighty work being accomplished almost without resistance, and entirely without outrage.

THE FAIRIES.

A Dream-like remembrance of a Dream.

IT chanced three merry Fairies met
On the bridge of a mountain rivulet,
Whose hanging arch thro' the misty spray,
Like a little Lunar Rainbow lay,
With turf and flowers a pathway meet,
For the twinkling of unearthly feet,

For bright were the flowers as their golden tresses,

And green the turf as their Elfin-dresses.
Aye the water o'er the Linn

Was mocking, with a gleesome din,
The small shrill laughter, as it broke

In peals from these night-wandering Folk; While the stream danced on with a tinkling tune,

All happy to meet by a blink o' the moon.
Now laughing louder than before,
They strove to deaden that ceaseless roar ;
And, when vanquished was the water fall,
Loudly they shouted, one and all,
Like the chorus of a Madrigal,-
Till the glen awoke from its midnight trance,
And o'er the hills in flight-like dance,
Was all the troop of echoes driven,
This moment on earth, and that in heaven.

From the silent heart of a hollow Yew,
The Owl sailed forth with a loud halloo :
And his large yellow eyes looked bright
With wonder, in the wan moonlight,
As hovering white, and still as snow,
He caught a glance of the things below,
All burning on the bridge like fire
In the sea-green glow of their wild attire.
"Halloo! Halloo! tu-whit! tu-whoo!"
Cried the gleesome Elves, and away they flew,
With mimic shriek, sob, cry, and howl
In headlong chase of the frightened Owl.
With many a buffet they drove him onward,
Now hoised him up, now pressed him down-
ward;

They pulled at his horns, and with many a tweak,

Around and around they skrewed his beak;
On his back they beat with a birch-spray flail,
And they tore the long feathers from his tail;
Then, like warriors mounted in their pride,
Behind his wings behold them ride!
And shouting, charge unto the war,
Each waving his soft plume-scymitar;
A war of laughter, not of tears,
The wild-wood's harmless Cuirassiers.

Thro' the depth of Ivy on the wall
(The sole remains of old Greystock Hall)
The Screamer is driven, half scared to death;
And the gamesome Fairies, all out of breath,
Their tiny robes in the air arranging,
And kisses in their flight exchanging;
Now slowly with the soft wind stealing
Right onwards, round about now wheeling,
Like leaves blown off in gusty weather,
To the rainbow-bridge all flock together;
And lo! on the green moss all alight,
Like a cluster of Goldfinches mingling bright.

What feats the Fairy Creatures played!
Now seeming of the height afraid,
And, folding the moss in fast embraces,
They peeped o'er the Bridge with their love-
ly faces.

Now hanging like the fearless flowers
By their tiny arms in the Cataract showers,
Swung back and forward with delight,
Like Pearls in the spray-shower burning
bright!

Then they dropt at once into the Pool-
A moment gone! then beautiful
Ascending on slow-hovering wing,
As if with darkness dallying,

They rose again, through the smiling air,
To their couch of moss and flow'rets fair,
And rooted lay in silence there.
Down into the gulf profound

Slid the stream without a sound!
A charm had hushed the thundering shocks,
And stillness steeped the blackened rocks.
'Twas fit, where these fair things were lying,
No sound, save of some Zephyr sighing,
Should stir the gentle Solitude!

The mountain's night-voice was subdued
To far-off music faint and dim,
From Nature's heart a holy hymn!
Nor was that Universal Strain
Through Fairy-bosoms breathed in vain ;
Entranced in joy the Creatures lay,
Listening the music far away,
Till One the deep'ning silence broke,
And thus in song-like murmurs spoke.

Mountain Fairy.

"Soon as the lingering Sun was gone,
I sailed away from my sparry throne,
Mine own cool, silent, glimmering dwelling.
Below the roots of the huge Hylvellyn.
As onwards like a thought I flew,
From my wings fast fell the pearly dew,
Sweet tiny orbs of lucid ray
Rising and setting on my way,
As if I had been some Planet fair,
That ruled its own bright atmosphere.
O beauteous sight!' the Shepherd cried,
To the Shepherd slumbering at his side,-
Look where the Mountain-Fairy flies!'
But e'er he had opened his heavy eyes,
I had flown o'er Grassmere's moonlight flood,
And the rustling swing of old Rydal-Wood,
And sunk down 'mid the heather-bells
On the shady side of sweet Furness-Fells,
'Twas but one soft wave o' my wing!
A start and an end to my journeying.
One moment's rest in a spot so dear,-
For the Moonlight was sleeping on Winder-

mere,

And I saw in that long pure streak of light
The joy and the sadness of the night,
And mine eyes, in sooth, began to fill,
So beautiful that Lake-so still-
So motionless its gentle breast-
Save where, just rocking in their rest,
A crowd of water-lilies lay

Like stars amid the milky way.

But what had I with the Lake to do? So off to the misty hills I flew,

And in dark ravines, and creviced rocks,
With my finger I counted my thousand flocks,
And each little Lamb by name I blest,
As snow-white they lay in their innocent rest.
When I saw some weak cold tottering Lamb
Recline 'gainst the side of its pitiful Dam,
Who seemed to have some wildering fear
Of Death, as of a Foe that was near,
I shone like a sunbeam soft and warm
Till the fleece lay smooth on its strengthened
form,

And the happy Creatures lay down together
Like waves on the sea in gentle weather,
And in contentment calm and deep
Sank faintly-bleating into sleep.
In the soft moonlight glow I knew
Where the herbs that hold the poison grew;
And at the touch of my feathery foot
They withered at once both stalk and root,
But I shook not the gracious tears of night
From the plants most dear to the Shepherd's
sight,

And with mellower lustre bade them spring
In the yellow round of the Fairy's ring,
Till, methought, the hillside smiled afar
With the face of many a verdant Star.
I marked the Fox at the mouth of his den,
And raised the shadows of Hunter-men,
And I bade aerial beagles rave,

And the horn twang through the Felon's cave,
Then buried him with Famine in his grave.

The Raven sat upon Langdale-Peak
With crusted blood on his ebon-beak,
And I dashed him headlong from the steep,
While the murderer croaked in his sullensleep.
Away I sailed by the Eagle's nest,

And the Eaglets couched warm beneath her breast,

But the Shepherd shall miss her cry at morn,
For her eyes are dim and her plumage torn,
And I left in their Eyrie the Imps accurst
To die in their hunger, and cold, and thirst.
All, all is well with my lovely Flocks!
And so I dropt suddenly down the rocks,
From Loughrig-top, like a falling Star,
Seen doubtless through the mists afar
By a hundred Shepherds on the Hill
Wandering among the Moonlight still,
And with folded wings and feet earth-bound
I felt myself standing o'er the sound
Of this Waterfall, and with joy espied
A Sister-Elf at either side,

My Tale is told-nor strange nor newNow, sweet Lady Bright-Eyes! what say you ?"

As some wild Night-Flower thro' the dew,
Looks to the Moon with freshened hue,
When a wandering breath of air
Hath lifted up its yellow hair,
And its own little glade grows bright
At the soft revealment of its light,
Upsprung, so sudden and so sweet,
The MOUNTAIN FAIRY to her feet;
And, looking round her with a smile,
Silent the Creature paused awhile,
Uncertain what glad thoughts should burst
In music from her spirit first,

Till, like a breath breathed clear from
Heaven,

To her at once a voice was given,
And thro' the tune the words arose
As thro' the fragrant dew the leaflets of the
Rose.

Cottage Fairy.
"Sisters! I have seen this night
A hundred Cottage-Fires burn bright,
And a thousand happy faces shining
In the bursting blaze, and the gleam declining.
I care not I for the stars above,
The lights on earth are the lights I love:
Let Venus bless the Evening-air,
Uprise at morn Prince Lucifer,
But those little tiny stars be mine
That thro' the softened copse-wood shine,
With beauty crown the pastoral hill,
And glimmer o'er the sylvan rill,
Where stands the Peasant's ivied nest,
And the huge mill-wheel is at rest.
From out the honeysuckle's bloom
I peeped into that laughing room,
Then, like a hail-drop, on the pane
Pattering, I stilled the din again,
While every startled eye looked up;
And, half-raised to her lips the cup,
The rosy Maiden's look met mine!
But I veiled mine eyes with the silken twine
Of the small wild roses clustering thickly,
Then to her seat returning quickly,
She 'gan to talk with bashful glee
Of Fairies 'neath the greenwood Tree
Dancing by moonlight, and she blest
Gently our silent Land of rest.
The Infants playing on the floor,
At these wild words their sports gave o'er,
And asked where lived the Cottage-Fairy?
The maid replied, She loves to tarry
Oftimes beside our very hearth,
And joins in little Children's mirth
When they are gladly innocent;
And sometimes beneath the leafy Tent,
That murmurs round our Cottage-door,
Our overshadowing Sycamore,
We see her dancing in a ring,
And hear the blessed Creature sing-
A Creature full of gentleness,
Rejoicing in our happiness.'

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Then plucked I a wreath with many a gem
Burning a flowery Diadem;
And through the wicket with a glide
I slipped, and sat me down beside
The youngest of those Infants fair,
And wreathed the blossoms round her hair.
Who placed these flowers on William's
head ?'

His little wondering Sister said,

A wreath not half so bright and gay
Crowned me, upon the morn of May,
Queen of that sunny Holiday.'
The tiny Monarch laughed aloud
With pride among the loving crowd,
And, with my shrillest voice, I lent
A chorus to their merriment;
Then with such murmur as a Bee
Makes, from a flower-cup suddenly
Borne off into the silent sky,

I skimmed away, and with deligh

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