daughter. It was from Milburne that I heard the particulars of her malady; it was the regard and esteem that I felt for Milburne that led me, at great personal inconvenience, to take a journey for the purpose of benefiting one who was unknown to me, and whose nearest connexions, so far from soliciting my interference, would, I had reason to think, decidedly object to it. Milburne, when he came to London, was first my companion, then my pupil, and lastly my friend; I soothed the grief of his separation from his beloved one, by giving his mind a new and engrossing pursuit; I have been the happy means of restoring her to health. You say that you are willing to grant me a boon; do not think me presuming if I venture to ask the hand of your daughter for my friend." A joyful little party were assembled that evening in Mr. Woodford's drawing-room. Milburne had been warmly welcomed by him as a son; Sir John and Lady Rowland were sharers in the happy meeting; Harcourt was delighted to witness the felicity that he had promoted; and Ada thought of her recovery with more pleasure than ever, when she found that it was owing, in the first instance, to the anxiety of her faithful lover. But a happier party still, met at the same house in the course of a few weeks, when white and silver favours, bride-cake, blond, and orange-blossoms were the order of the day, and Milburne received Ada from the hand of her father as his blooming and beautiful bride. Mrs. Sutton is leading a very unhappy life, with her daughter and son-in-law; treated with neglect by the former, and ill-breeding by the latter. I wish I could say that she considers these troubles a proper punishment for her conduct to her gentle and unoffending niece. I should be glad to fancy that she is reconciled to the downfall of her ambi tious hopes; but I am obliged to confess that she never alludes to Ada's recovery, except with a shake of the head, intended to signify as much as that of Lord Burleigh; and that when it was once remarked in her presence, that the Mesmerists of our day would have been burnt in former times for wizards, she was heard to ejaculate a fervent wish that those good old customs still existed! Harcourt continues to devote his time, talents, and thoughts to the benefit of his fellow creatures; he is often derided by the ignorant, opposed by the envious, and aspersed by the malicious. Nor is his lot remarkable; we daily see exemplified the emphatic lines of Campbell "Worth itself is but a charter To be mankind's distinguished martyr;" and none are so likely to be the objects of persecution and opposition as the professors of a new science, which has much in it to excite our wonder, as well as to invite our gratitude. May the clouds and mists of prejudice shortly disappear, and may we welcome the bounty Vouchsafed to us, not in the spirit of vain dependence on the fallible efforts of a fellowcreature, but in the humility becoming the thankful objects of heavenly favour; 1emembering that "every good gift is from above," and praying that But see, their leader conflict waives, and vaunting loud his might, Challenges brave Cuthullin to meet in single fight. Great Semo's son hath heard the boast, and touch'd with gen'rous fire, Hath sent again his messenger, and granted his desire: Retire, ye men of Ullin, to Slimora's shady side; Behold from far the gallant chiefs contending in their pride. "And should I fall," Cuthullin spake," to mighty Connal say, He ne'er was absent from my side in battle till this day; But tell him that I blame those winds that on Togorma roar, But wherefore droops Dunscar's lord? why is his brow so pale? Have not his foemen fled away, like down upon the gale? Yet sad and dark he standeth, leaning upon his spear, While Canil to his secret words bends an attentive ear. "My course on earth is ended now; this is my latest field; By my broad belt the mortal wound, the arrow is conceal'd: My failing strength ebbs fast away—no pleasant morn shall rise O'er my low couch-no noon-day sun delight these dizzy eyes. And bid him guard with voice and blade young For me Temora's king shall seek, but never will Cormac evermore !" As rushes over Lochlin's seas some tempestburthen'd cloud, Whose bosom is the thunder's home, whose folds the lightning's shroud, Upon the devastating blast careering wild along, The car of Loda's dreaded sprite-the terror of the strong; So Caithbat's brave descendant rush'd on the rebellious chief, And dubious their encounter grew: 'twas terrible, though brief. The bossy bucklers loudly ring, with well-aimed stroke and thrust; 'Tis done! 'tis done! that blow has sped-fierce Torlath bites the dust And as on gory earth he sinks, his sword deserts his hand, Ah! never will he lift again in battle field that brand. His swimming eyes close on the light-his ruddy cheeks grow pale, The love of virgins breath'd his last in Lego's reedy vale: Short space his heroes stood around, indulging sorrow's tide; Then starting from their silent trance-" Revenge! revenge!" they cried. At once a thousand swords were drawn, a thousand arrows flew, And closer round brave Semo's son their hemming circle drew; But Ullin's warriors hastened on with souls athirst for fame, And all the hosts of Erin swift unto the rescue he find; My heart is full of happiness: I would, beloved, thou could'st know That fills my bosom now: Within my bosom's inmost fold Dwell thoughts to which all words are weak; Or answer in a kindred tone Yet, oh! believe, though calmly smile Now, 'neath this still and southern clime, Its dreams-its hopes-its vows renew, Can I of change or sorrow dream, While thus on thine my heart doth rest? TO A FRIEND. BY MRS. F. B. SCOTT. Yes, yes, I love thee! and my love is based Raising its head 'bove every thunder shock. The iron bonds of this world shall control; Heaven seals the compact nature signed before, And twines thy image closely round my soul! Yes, yes, I love thee! in my heart are blent All the pure feelings of my vanished youth; Then, take these simple words as they are meant, And smile thou on them for their wild warm truth: Believe me, when I gazed upon thy face, My heart leap'd quickly with an inward prayer, That thou, for thee, that heart's deep thoughts might'st trace, And read the strange emotions graven there! Yes, yes, I love thee! Did'st thou mark the tear Which from some hidden fount sped on its way, When thy sweet voice fell on my charmed ear, And thy dark eye sent forth bright genius' ray: Ah, deem me not too bold !-let fortune frown, Or thro' unclouded years of brilliance shine; No change can weigh my joyous spirit down, So I'm rewarded with one thought of thine! Cambridge, June 18, 1844. SKETCHES OF GERMAN LITERATURE. bold masses, and others successively brought to BY MARY ANN YOUATT. No. II. Schiller-continued. "Philosophische Briefe" (Philosophical Letters). -These are compositions of great power and eloquence, and contain deep and important reflections and speculations on those mysterious and vital subjects, death-life-immortality-providencefate-and free-will. Although fully impressed with a profound sense of religion, which shone clearly out in his life and faith, Schiller, like all other thinking men, occasionally found his mind oppressed and his mental vision clouded by doubts, difficulties, and perplexities; and these, we find, imaged forth in the wavering hues and lines of this interesting correspondence, which is supposed to have taken place between two friends, Raphael and Julius. We select one extract: "Every perfection, then, which I can appreciate becomes my own, and gives me pleasure because it is so. I long for it, because I love myself. Perfection in nature is a spiritual, and not a material property. The bliss of spiritual beings arises from their perfection. My desire for the happiness of all creatures arises from my own self-love; the bliss which I can picture to myself becomes my own, and hence it is my aim to create, multiply, and increase happiness around me; for whatever of beauty, excellence, or enjoyment I create for others, I feel most fully myself; and whenever I neglect opportunities of doing this, I lose chances of happiness. To desire the welfare of others, then, is to desire my own. "Here, dearest Raphael, let me pause and look around me. I have attained the summit of the eminence; the mists have disappeared, and I stand amid immeasureable space, like one surrounded by a verdant landscape; while a bright stream of sunlight illumines my mind. Love, then-that most beautiful phenomena of the animated creation-that all-powerful magnet of the spiritual world-that well-spring of piety and virtue, love is but a reflection of this same powera longing for perfection, happiness, and excellence, founded on a momentary exchange of personality. If I hate, I subtract something from myself. If I love, I am the richer in that I love. Forgiveness is the recovery of alienated property; misanthropy, lingering self-murder; and egotism, the greatest possible poverty of human nature." "The Ghost Seer."-This is a fragment of a prose romance, which Schiller is supposed to have undertaken, while inspired by accounts of the proceedings of Count Cagliostro, at Paris. It was, however, soon abandoned; and only serves as a record of the universality of this great author's genius. "The History of the Revolt of the Netherlands," possesses great intrinsic value; conveys much valuable information; and sets every circumstance clearly and impressively before the reader. It is rather a series of graphic sketches, than one continuous narrative; some grouped together in view like a moving panorama. The descriptions are vivid, and the characters portrayed with a masterly hand, and all their lights and shadows given to view with perspicuity and discernment. Had it been completed, it would, doubtless, have been one of Schiller's very finest works; but the first volume only appeared. "The trial and execution of the Counts Egmont and Horn," and "the siege of Antwerp," fragments which afterwards appeared in a periodical, and were, doubtless, originally intended to form portions of the second volume, only give us the greater reason to regret that the work was never completed. "Das Lied von der Glocke" (The Song of the Bell).-In this poem the process of casting a bell, and all the different conditions necessary to the proper fusion of the metal, and the successful issue of the whole, are graphically described; and the various stages of the operation are interspersed by beautiful pictures of those events in human life which are usually announced by the ringing or tolling of the bell-the birth of the infant, bis childhood, and youth-the fair bride at the altar, with all her hopes and fears-the father and children standing by the grave of the wife and mother-the vesper bell, summoning home the flocks, herds, and tired herdsmen, and speaking of rest and refreshment to the weary labourer and artisan-the sabbath call to prayers, raising the heart to higher and better aspirations, and uniting all classes and all ages of mankind in one blest employ-the wild alarm of fire, rousing the slumbering city with its dread peal-and the clang of the bell sounding far above the harsh tumult of war. We extract one of these episodes : "Then with the solemn sounds of joy Lovely as some fair work of Heaven's hands. Oh, gentle hope!-fond soft desire— In conjunction with Domingo, the King's confessor she breaks open the Queen's desk, and takes out some letters which were written to her by Carlos before she became his father's bride, and also his picture sent at the same time. These they lay before the King, who, incensed and furious, reviles his wife when she comes to him to complain of "Don Carlos."-The Marquis von Posa has the outrage offered to her; overcome by his harshbeen long absent from the Court of Spain, and ness, she sinks fainting on the threshold of the during that period has imbibed liberal principles, door, and wounds herself. The Duke Alba and which lead him to concert schemes for the accom- Domingo artfully seek to inflame his suspicions, plishment of the freedom of the Netherlands. but he mistrusts them too, and looking round his On his return, he flies to his early friend, Prince court for a friend and counsellor, selects the MarCarlos, whom he hopes speedily to inspire with quis von Posa; to whom he relates his perplexisimilar feelings; but he finds him a prey to ties, his jealousy, his fancied injuries, and urges melancholy, listless and inactive, and sighing for him to sound the Queen and Prince, and discover the Queen Elizabeth de Valois; who had been whether they are true or false. The Marquis affianced to him, until King Philip entered the seeks an interview with Elizabeth, not to obey the lists against his son, and bore away the prize. monarch's injunctions, but to implore her to use Carlos confides this hapless passion to his friend, her influence over the Prince, and induce him to who promises to endeavour to obtain for him an quit Madrid. Subsequently he informs Philip that interview with the Queen, hoping that the influence his wife is innocent in thought and deed; but hints of her noble and virtuous mind will be great that Carlos loves her, and it were as well if he were enough to arouse the Prince from this weakness. sent from the court for a while, and during his He succeeds in getting Carlos admitted to her, and residence there, were placed solely under his care she parries the impassioned declarations and argu- and watchfulness. Carlos, meanwhile, hearing ments of her step-son with womanly tact and that the Marquis is made Prime Minister, that he delicacy, and gentle dignity-recalls him, in some has betrayed his confidence, and shown his letters measure, to a sense of the impropriety of his con- to the King, does not know what to think. For duct-exhorts him to become a man and a prince some time his confidence in his friend defies all --and presents to him, at parting, a packet of suspicions and insinuations: but at length he yields letters for his perusal. These, aided by her argu- to the apparent evidence of treachery, and fearing ments, determine him to use his utmost endeavours he knows not what, he flies in the frenzy of the in behalf of Flanders, and he seeks his father, and moment to the Princess Eboli, to implore her to entreats him to bestow on him the command of the warn the Queen against this foe. The Marquis army then about to depart thither. The jealous makes use of the power granted to him by Philip, and suspicious monarch refuses this request, and and arrests the Prince. He visits him in prison; Carlos quits his presence irritated and enraged. Carlos receives him with doubt, and yet with every One of the Queen's pages meets him, and delivers recollection of his former friendship. An order to him a letter and a key; the boy mentions no comes for the release of the Prince, and then the name, and Carlos fondly believes that Elizabeth Marquis explains the motive of every action, shows has relented, and is about to grant him an inter- the Prince how he has been, and still is his friend, view; but on keeping the appointment he is sur- and has now saved him by inculpating himself. Carprised to find himself in the presence of the los would fly to undeceive the King, but the MarPrincess Eboli. This lady loves him; she tries quis detains him, and at that moment is shot by a every art to discover whether her passion is re-hidden assassin through the grating of the dungeon. turned, and at last gives him a letter which the King had sent to her, containing dishonourable proposals. At first, Carlos believes that mere accident has caused her to be there, but as soon as he perceives the meaning of her words, he frankly informs her that his affections are engaged. The Princess overwhelms him with reproaches, and demands back the King's letter; but Carlos will not resign it, resolving to find means to show it to the Queen, in hopes, that by unveiling to her the infidelity of her husband, to whom she has sacrificed him, he may induce her to listen to him with more favour. This project he communicates to the Marquis, who persuades him to entrust not only that letter, but his letter-case to him, lest it should fall into the hands of others, and privately determines to get him off to Flanders as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the Princess Eboli, enraged at having thus exposed her weakness-guesses who is the object of Carlos' attachment, and resolves to work the ruin of her innocent rival. The King comes to release his son and restore him publicly to his favour and confidence, but Carlos meets him with reproaches, and clears the fame of his lost friend. The populace hearing that their beloved Prince is imprisoned, and fearing that his life will be in danger, rise up in a tumult. The jealous King, believing them to have been incited by his son, and feeling all his former suspicions revived, resolves on his destruction; and summons to his presence the Grand Inquisitor, to whom he darkly hints his wishes, and who agrees to further them. The Queen sends to Carlos, imploring him to quit the kingdom without delay, and informing him how, by assuming the guise of a spirit which is said to haunt certain galleries, he may bid her farewell without suspicion. He resolves to obey her-they meet to utter words of parting, and are surprised by the King, who delivers his son into the hands of the Grand Inquisitor, with these words:"I have done my part, now do you yours." |