NOTES.

Note (a) page 103.

Or to his native mountain binds the swain.

THIS is perhaps one of the subjects most interesting to the feelings of man. I have on former occasions noted, and must note again, the exquisite colours in which the Bard of " Local Attachment" has painted it: -What follows is a fresh proof.

"All love their native spot; whether beside

Their ice-ribb'd mountains, through a waste of night,

They catch the frost gales from the stormy tide,
And shiver to the boreal flashes bright;

Or, if the sun vouchsafe a noon-day light,

Hail from the crags, his faint-reflected beams,

And slide o'er mould'sing bridge from height to height.”

Again:

"Nor less, from use, the sons of reason mark

Their native skies, their-heart-responding home;
Whether those skies be azure-bright, or dark
With sullen tempest; whether lordly dome
Or shed be theirs. Still, sighing deep, they roam

Far from the umbrageous grove, or village green;
Nor wander over ocean's angry foam,

Without a hope once more to trace serene

Where Peace hath smooth'd her wing, the dear familiar scene."

Nor has the author of the above lines failed to exemplify his prepossessing subject by facts in prose.* It is long since I caused the extract to be made; and as the transcriber has omitted to give the name of the author, I am not sure to whom I am indebted for the subsequent remarks; I have not the poem at hand to refer to, but I think it is Mr. Polwbele, who observes, that "this sentiment is also the source of the amor patriæ, because it brings to our recollection the gentle and pure affections of our earliest years. It increases

*See notes to "Local Attachment."

with extension, and expands with the progress of time, as a sentiment of a celestial and immortal nature. In Switzerland there is an antient musical air, extremely simple, called Rans des Vaches. This air produces an effect so powerful, that it was found necessary to prohibit the playing of it in Holland and in France before the Swiss Soldiers, because it made them all desert one after another. I imagine that the Rans des Vaches must imitate the lowing and bleating of cattle, the repercussion of the echoes, and other local associations, which made the blood boil in the veins of these poor soldiers, by recalling to their memory the val leys, the lakes, the mountains of their country†; and, at the same time, the companions of their early

* Alas! what must be the sensations of the true lovers of their country, in dismantled, desolated Switzerland, now?

+ I have been told that Poutaveri, the Indian of Otaheite, whe was some years ago brought to Paris, on seeing in the royal gar den, the paper mulberry tree, the bark of which is in that island manufactured into cloth, clasped it in his arms, and while the tear started into his eye, exclaimed, “Ah ! tree of my country!"

N

life, their first loves, the recollection of their indulgent grandfathers, and the like.

"The love of country seems to strengthen, in proportion as it is innocent and unhappy. For this reason, savages are fonder of their country than polished nations are, and those who inhabit regions rough and wild, such as mountaineers, than those who live in fertile districts and happy climates. Never could the Court of Russia prevail upon a single Samoiede to leave the shores of the Frozen Ocean, and settle at Petersburgh. Some Greenlanders, in the course of the last century, were brought to the Court of Copenhagen, where they were entertained with great kindness; but they soon fretted themselves to death. Several of them were drowned in attempting to return to their country in an open boat. They beheld all the magnificence of the Court of Denmark with extreme indifference; but one, in particular, was observed to weep every time he saw a woman with a child in her arms: hence it was conjectured that this unfortunate man was a father. The gentleness of domestic education, without doubt, thus powerfully attaches these poor

poor people to the place of their birth. It was this which inspired the Greeks and Rorians with so much courage in defence of their country."

I have no hesitation in thanking the author of "Local Attachment" for my first information respecting the Dulce Domum, which, he tells me," is said to have been written about 200 years since, by a Winchester scholar, detained at the usual time of breaking up, and chained to a tree or pillar for his offence to the master, when the other scholars had liberty to visit their respective homes while the breaking up lasted,This confined scholar was so affected with grief, by being thus detained from seeing his dear home, and for the loss of his liberty, that he was moved to compose the Dulce Domum, and died broken-hearted before his companions returned. In memory of this unhappy incident, the scholars of Winchester College, attended by the master, chaplains, organists, and choristers, have an annual procession, walking three times round the pillar or tree to which their fellow-collegian was chained, singing all the time." The air of the Dulce