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Faust. Oh God! this grave is Margaret's ; I see The occasion now of this stone's crimson tears : The slayer tramples on his victim's dust. Would that I had not crush'd so fair a flower, Or that its blooming had not been so fair! Her pale reproachful shadow haunts me now, Marring all mirth, and making sorrow deeper. Even as foul rust upon the generous steel, The fit successor of some murder spot, Which, slowly gnawing, eats into the heart, Does the remembrance of this damned act Consume and wither up my spirit's strength. Oh ! Margaret ! if the dull decaying ear Of thy cold body, once so warm and sweet, Can any sound embrace, let mortal grief Find entrance there, the grief of him who smote Thy gentle being with untimely blight, And, like a fiend, more desolate than death, Destroy'd what life's great enemy had spared ! These stubborn eyes, which moisture hath not fill'd Since our first night of rapturous possession, Now leak amain, and send a briny flood To mingle with that murder-crying blood.

(VOICE FROM THE TOMB.)
A voice, sad and deep,

Hath troubled my sleep,
With a weeping and mortal moan;

Poor tenant of clay,

Depart on thy way,
And leave my tired spirit alone !

Through the worm-eaten mould,

And the cerements that fold, Some tear-drops have water'd my breast;

To my long-frozen heart,

Wild beat they impart,
And wake my poor body from rest.

Who weeps for the dead ?

Let him sorrow instead
For those who on life's seas are tost;

For death's placid sleep

Is dreamless and deep,
By shadow or tempest ne'er cross'd.

For himself let him mourn,

By passions all torn,
His life both perverted and vain ;

His bopes in the dust,

His young feelings crush'd,
His existence one long throb of pain.

The living are they,

Half spirit, half clay,
Who sorrow inhale with the air;

The dead are at rest,

In nature's green breast, Without either sorrow or care.

The voice is crack'd and mouldy, and the words,
Half utter'd, slip through dry and gamless jaws.
Come, let 's be jogging.

Faust.

Never !-I will grow Fast to this spot, till my repentant tears Efface that bloody witness.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Now, behold!
The thirsty stone, with greedy suction, draws
The crimson river to its core again,
There,—it is gone,all but yon ruby vein.

Faust.
Ay, you may tamper with mine eyes, and play
A thousand apish tricks, but all your skill
All your cold, mystical philosophy,
Cannot remove the heavy weight that 's here
About my heart, nor ever wake again
My feelings to that fresh delicious morn
Which they knew once, ere they knew sin and thee.

METHISTOPHELES.
Oh! cry you mercy, most repentant slave!
How beautiful humility doth show
In one who, after being cloy'd with sin,-
Plucking her flowers, and bathing in her streams,-
Wildly embracing her voluptuous forms,
Many and beautiful as Iris' hues,-
Boldly conversing with forbidden knowledge,
Questioning, with lofty front, the starry host,-
Impeaching Heaven's decrees, and writing cipher
To the Almighty's goodness, power, and justice ;-
How beautiful to see this sable fool,
This most left-handed sheep, with humble tears,
Begin at length his ugly coat to scrub!
In vain expectancy to make it white;
And cry, alas ! for Ignorance and Love,
Out upon knowledge, and the fig-leaf shame;
To throw himself, with beggarly submission,
Before the judgment-seat he hath arraign'd,
And, by his very servile, mindless puling,
Deserve to lose the slavery he covets!
No, no, my friend! this will not do for thee;
Too deeply thou hast dived, and highly soar'd,
Into the labyrinths of mystic nature,
Arresting in its flight the lightning's wing,
Searching the cloudy caverns of thunder,-
Sporting upon the verge of far creation,
Numbering the stars, their satellites, and suns,
With untired wing circumvolating space!
What! doth your memory sleep? is your mind dead?
Bestir yourself, and shake this languor off!
See! where the yellow moon climbs up the sky,
And with her come the many-twinkling stars :
Shall we ascend our steeds, and blitbly dash
Through that bright labyrinth of lustrous lamps ?

Faust.
Betwixt me and the moon, methinks I see
A mote, a speck, a small transparent atom
It grows apace : now large as smallest star,
And now as Venus' self; with speed of thought
It widens, swelling on the sight, till now
It takes a form, with motion visible
Nearing this earth ; how beautiful !--it comes
With rushing speed the liquid air dividing,
And throwing from its wing a silver shower
Of moonlight radiance.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Well I know that form.
'Tis Michael, sent to lure thee back to heaven.
We'll meet the angelic tempter in yon field.

Faust.
Alas! alas ! an adamantine chain
Binds me to thee. But we will speak with him.

[Ereunt.
J. A. B.

Then, mortal, pass on ;

Cease weeping and moan;
Too long you have tortured this beart.-

Ha! what do I see?

Another with thee?
False spirit, I know whom thou art !

Yes! now do I know

That God's swarthy foe
Is scorching the turf with his tread,

Why leaves he the quick,

The dying and sick,
To visit the place of the dead ?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Those sounds, methinks, are not so very sweet ;

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OR,

THE EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS;

knew any one in a balloon, however much of a novice, attacked by that feeling.

The Editor. I have no doubt that your theory is a A PEEP BEHIND THE SCEXES.

good one, but we may also add to it, the probability that

the stronger emotion will always overcome the weaker. No. IX.

The Cockney who creeps to the brink of Dover Cliff, gets Stulta, jocosa, canenda, dolentia, seria, sacra,

giddy immediately, because the predominant idea simply En posita ante oculos, Lector amice, tuos; Quisquis es, hic aliquid quod delectabit habebis;

is, that he stands on the edge of a precipice; but the same Tristior an levior, selige quicquid amas."

Cockney, finding himself going up through the air with a Tar Edrror discovered in Mr Green's balloon, together noise like the sudden rising of a hundred eagles, as this with Mr Green, about fifteen miles above the surface of cleaves the ambient ether, is so possessed with awe and

“ brave o'erhanging canopy” extends its silken wings, and the Earth. Time--five o'clock, P.m. The wcather

astonishment, that he forgets to be giddy, and finds himbreezy, but fine.

self in the bosom of the clouds, before he has time to inTHE EDITOR. I never was happier in my life, than I dulge in one distinct thought as to the precise nature of am' at this moment, Mr Green. I have stood on the his situation. tops of the highest mountains, and felt the exhilaration Mr Green. Upon this, sir, as upon all other subjects, of spirits occasioned by the purer air , which I there you talk with a degree of eloquence and accuracy that I breathed; but how dense the atmosphere even of the have never heard equalled. Andes themselves, compared with that which we enjoy THE EDITOR. How beautiful it was an hour or two here!

ago, when we were still among the vast tiers of clouds Mr Green. I was certainly never so far from the earth which hang their drapery above the earth at the distance before. There is a principle of buoyancy in my balloon of a few miles ! At one time we were in the heart of to-day, which I can scarcely account for.

the densest vapours, where all was dark and muddy, THE EDITOR. The reason is obvious ; you carry Cæsar somewhat like the heathen poet's description of chaos; and and his fortune.

where we went blindly on, seeing nothing, and totally Mr Green. I have been delighted, sir, to see you enjoy incapable of guessing what the result was to be, till sudyourself so much. This is my eighty-seventh ascent, and denly, as if awaking from a frightful dream, we einerged the importance you have attached to it, by intrusting into sunshine and blue sky, which filled up a broad cleft your sacred life to my care, shall never be effaced from bet seen two masses of clouds, and looking down which my memory.

we saw the fair map of the earth, diversified with land The Editor (bowing gracefully). It required but little and sea, spread out beneath us! Then into what glorious courage on my part to do so, for, independent of your combinations of colour did not the refracted rays of light well-known proficiency in aeronautics, I carry“a charmed arrange themselves! Shattered rainbows hovered round life," like Macbeth ; and so far from experiencing any us on every side,-magnificent aerial prisins flashed upon sensations of an unpleasant kind, I could almost think the sense in all the wild confusion of beauty. that I had never truly known what it is to enjoy exist Mr Green. In several of my ascents I have seen the ence, until now that I have reached this region of per- sun set twice in the course of one hour. I have seen petual sunshine, where not a speck of vapour obstructs him set to the inhabitants of the earth when very near my vision through the clear blue transparency of endless its surface : then a breeze has arisen which has carried space. Nay, more, Mr Green; I ask you if you are not me rapidly upwards, and I have again overtaken the distinctly of opinion, that a noble balloon like this, far glorious laminary, in which case, it must be evident to away in the crystal empyrean, is the safest spot in all you, sir, that instead of an hour having advanced, au hour creation? What have we to dread ? We are above the must have retrograded, in so far as I was concerned. Thus, region of the storm ; the thunder-clouds roll far beneath if it was eight o'clock when I left the earth, it became in us; we cannot dash ourselves against rocks; we cannot an hour, to all intents and purposes, only seven o'clock. encounter any enemy; the climate scems admirably Tue Editor. A carious but an ingenious remark, Mr aslapted for our constitution; and the rapid rate at which Green. If we regulate our notions of time by the sun, we are travelling, prevents us from experiencing the it is plain that the moment we introduce a counteracting slightest tedium.

motion to the motion of the earth, the laws which were Mr Green. You will observe, also, that the common previously applied to time are altered). Indeed, the pliebelief that giddiness must necessarily attend a flight nomena of time are entirely dependent on motion. Let through the gir, is altogether erroneous. Though the motion cease, and there would be no such thing as time. balloon has both a progressive and a rotatory motion, -How high do you think we may now le? our brains are in no way affected by it. As far as I Mr Green. There is nothing more difficult than to can judge by experience, giddiness implies a connexion judge of distance in the air. We have no intervening with terra firma, and arises from a sort of vague fear objects on which to form our data ; and I remember well, that the solid earth may slip from under our feet ; but that on my first ascent, or rather first descent, I imagined as soon as a total separation from the ball of the globe I was a considerable way from the earth when I came takes place, all disposition to giddiness ceases, I never smack against it all at once, and was thrown out of the

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car with considerable violence. Experience, however, by mankind too well to refuse gratifying them in this. But which alone the eye is taught to judge of distances under lo ! behold! do you not think that a strange change has any circumstances, enables me to form pretty accurate taken place in the appearance of the moon, which we conjectures now. From the appearance of the earth, as have for some time observed in the east, while the sun seen from where we at present are, looking, as it does, has been receding far to westward ? infinitely smaller, and more like a globe, than I ever saw Mr Green. The moon! Is that the moon ? It looks as it before, I am disposed to believe that we are now be large as the county of Lanark, and a soft and lovely light tween thirty and forty miles from it.

is playing over the whole of it. The Editor. Would it not be a death worth dying, to The Editor. That flight of animals we saw a short leap, at this height, from the car of our balloon, and to time ago, must have belonged to the moon; or perhaps plunge down at once to the world below? We should they were emigrating from the moon to some other planet. be dead, and the death would be easy, almost pleasurable, Mr Green. How calmly your truly philosophical mind long before we reached its surface : when we did, we can express itself under circumstances which appear to should be dashed into a thousand atoms, and not one me so novel and appalling! See ! the moon, if yonder square inch of our whole body would retain its shape or world indeed be the moon, is becoming larger, and more likelihood. All resemblance to humanity would be anni- apparent every minute. Travelling as we now are, in hilated; we should be sprinkled over the earth like dew. this exquisitely etherealized medium, at the rate of about Wherever we lighted, it would be the same. If we fell four hundred miles an hour, we are visibly nearing it. upon hard and rugged rocks, a few blood-stains would be THE EDITOR. But even yet nothing distinct is to be all that would be left of us. Down we might go, crash-discovered on its surface. How audacious are those ing among the branches of some old forest, or away with pigmy astronomers upon earth who pretend to descry in a quick sharp plunge into the ocean, many a fathom deep, it lakes and mountains, and even mighty fortifications ! or we might pass with the rush of a meteoric stone some Mr Green. We shall see all these, if any such there of the star-gazers on Mont Blanc, and the next moment be, ere another half hour elapse. be buried among the eternal snows of an avalanche ;—or The Editor. One thing is certain, the moon cantiot our fate might be cast in more populous places; we might be nearly so far from the earth as some wiseacres would come down with a squash into the midst of a crowded have us believe. They talk of millions of miles with as city, and be mistaken for some refuse that had been thrown much coolness as they could do of twenty yards; and over a garret window, or we might fall into the midst of though it must be apparent to every one who has looked a fete-champetre, and frighten the whole of the pic-nic at the moon on a clear night, that she could not be very party out of their senses. According to the ancient my- far off, they still insisted that their stupid calculations thology, Phaeton fell into the river Po out of the chariot were right. Our present aerial voyage proves their falseof the Sun, and Vulcan, who fell for nine days and nine hood, and will also, I trust, set the great question at rest, nights, when he was kicked out of Olympus, landed on whether it be possible for any communication to exist be the island of Lemnos. Now, do you know, Mr Green, tween two distinct planets. I am strongly disposed to think, that the proper way of Mr Green. We have now fairly entered the moon's explaining these fables is, by supposing that both Phaeton atmosphere, and I begin to see its surface distinctly. It and Vulcan were persons who invented balloons, and is totally unlike the surface of our earth, and yet exceedtumbled out of them.

ingly beautiful and attractive. We must prepare, ere Mr Green. I beg pardon for not having heard one long, for our descent. word that you have just been saying ; but my attention The Editor. I see what resemble mountains, yet are has been entirely occupied with those strange animals who not mountains, according to our mundane ideas,—what are disporting themselves in the air not far from us. I look like rivers, yet are not rivers,—what have the faint should call them birds, were they not entirely different appearance of cities and villages, yet are totally incapable from any of the varieties of that species which I have ever of description in any languages known on the earth. seen before.

Mr Green. We seem at this moment to be hovering The Editor. I confess they surprise me much, for if over something that has a likeness to, yet far transcends, they ever alight at all, it is obvious that they do not be the most magnificent country villa I ever beheld; shall long to our earth. I should not be greatly astonished we alight in its vicinity ? to find that we had now got into the atmosphere of some The Editor. I should wish it much- the more espeother world, and that those remarkable specimens of cially, as, by the aid of this telescope, I can discover a zoology belonged to it.

person whom I take to be the owner of the mansion, Mr Green. My dear sir, you alarm me--you surely waiting in his lawn, as if to receive us. And now that cannot think that we have got beyond the sphere of the we approach still nearer, I am certain that I have seen earth's attraction, for, according to all the discoveries of that person before. By the Immortal Gods! it is Lord science, that is impossible ?

Byron! Can it be possible that the dead are transported The Editor. Under existing circumstances, Mr Green, to the moon ? What strange and indescribable beings are I care not to confess that I look upon all the discoveries those with him ?--no doubt the aborigines of the country. of science as perfect twaddle. We have reached a height, Mr Green. Now, sir, sit quiet and steady, for I am or rather a distance, from our mother earth, which seems about to throw out the grappling irons. to me already to prove the futility of all the soi-disant [Mr Green throws out the grappling irons, which principles of gravitation. Notwithstanding my recent catch immediately, and the balloon being arrested in remarks, I amr by no means sure that if either of us its motion, the Editor and Mr Green step out; were now to leave the balloon, we should not be carried Lord Byron and the Lunar beings approach. in a direction quite different from that of our own world. Lord Byron (shaking hands with the Editor, and then

Mr Green. For Heaven's sake, sir, do not say so! I with Mr Green). I am delighted, gentlemen, to see you have a wife and family at home, who would go distracted here. We have been expecting you for the last hour or were I never to return to them.

two; for you will, no doubt, be surprised to learn, as I The Evitor. I see no reason that you may not return myself was on my first arrival, that means have been to them by the same road that we have now come. I here discovered by which we have an opportunity of obam as anxious to get back to the earth as you, for though serving, pretty distinctly, all that is going on in any part the LITERARY JOURNAL now edites itself, the people of all of the solar system. We saw you leave the earth in the nations are nevertheless kind enough to assure ine that my presence of an immense assemblage of spectators, and we presence and superintendence are calculated to infuse a soon observed that you took a course which would, in all spirit into it which it might otherwise want, and I love probability, bring you towards us. Only two instances

of this kind have occarred before, when two aeronauts, Shelley. Life is a mere idea existing in the nature of who were believed by the inhabitants of the earth to have a sentient being. What should there be more remarkable fallen into the sea, because they never heard of them in your finding yourself in the moon than on the earth ? again, found their way to the moon. They did not, how-You might as well wonder that the atom which dances ever, bring with them any guest so welcome as the Editor in the sunbeam should at one time light in the cup of a IN HIS SLIPPERS.

flower, rather than on the leaf of a tree. You are an THE Editor. I rejoice in the lucky chance which has atom necessarily existing in space, and you may be driven made me acquainted with the author of“ Childe Harold." hither and thither through the whole of infinity. May I presume to ask how he happens to be in the THE EDITOR. It may be so; but it seems the much moon?

more common case that the same atoms remain attached Lord Byron. I am sorry to say that your question in to the same world. volves a secret which cannot be disclosed to any living Shelley. I cannot see that it is so. The inhabitants son of earth. When you die, it may be revealed to you. of the earth, it is true, know nothing of what lies beAs far as I yet know, there are only three persons from yond their own limited sphere of observation ; but do your world in the moon, including myself. Those peo- they not teach that death is only a change ? and why may ple whom you see around me, and whom you will, no not the sentient atom, which undergoes that change, be doubt, think are fashioned after a very extraordinary transported by it to other worlds ? model, until you get a little accustomed to them, are fair Burns. The great fault I have with you, Shelley, is, specimens of the regular population of these regions. that, right or wrong, you will talk nothing but metaphyThey are my retainers and servants, and will understand sics from morning till night. every word you say to them, though you will not be able Shelley. Metaphysics, my dear Burns, lie at the founto comprehend one syllable they speak. This gentleman dation of all genuine poetry. No man can be a poet, who is my major-domo ; allow me to introduce him to you. is not also a clear and philosophical thinker; and the more I The Lunar Major-domo shows his respect for the his mind loves to ponder on all the mysteries of creation,

Editor, by taking a leap three miles high, casting the better will be his chance of achieving something great. one hundred and fifty somersets, and assuming a I am certain that our friend the Editor agrees with me dozen different shapes in succession.

in this. Major-domo. Roohi foohi nahi pahi alam salam pong The Editor. To a great extent I do, although I am wong.

also of opinion that there is some poetry which no one Lord Byron. He says that this is the most exquisite can read without admiring, but which is, nevertheless, moment of his existence, in being allowed to kiss the toe too full of abstract thought—too purely intellectual—and of your Sliprers, which he is rejoiced to see you at this too mach elevated above ordinary human sympathies, ever moment wear.

to become popular. The author of " Prometheus UnThe Editor (smiling benevolently). My time being bound" will forgive me, if I venture to hint that this is valuable, I intended to have devoted a part of it, during the case with some of his own compositions. On our my aerial voyage, to the perasal of a large box of MSS. earth, consequently, you, my Lord Byron, rank higher which I brought along with me, from various literary than Shelley, not because you thought more profoundly, correspondents; and as I wished to do so with all kindly but because you do not scruple to mingle more profusely feelings towards them, I knew that it was expedient to in your verse, sentiments which rouse the passions, and wear my SLIPPERS, which seem to be endowed with the engage the sympathies or prejudices, of your readers. power of investing every thing with new interest and Lord Byron. God knows, I always thought my own additional attractions. But I long to be informed by mind infinitely inferior to Shelley's; and if my poetry be your Lordship who the other two persons are who still more admired than his, it must be the fault of the existretain their mortal shapes amidst this alien race of Lu- ing generation. natics.

Shelley. Do not blame the existing generation? In no Lord Byron. They both reside along with me in yonder period of the world's history has intellect made such givilla, and I shall be delighted to bring you together. You gantic strides, as it is doing at this moment. We have have often heard of each of them before ;-the one is seen -(the Editor has probably to be informed that the Robert Burns, and the other Percy Bysshe Shelley. lunar inhabitants are able to take the most perfect cogThe Epiror. Is it possible ?

nizance of all that goes on in the earth)-we have seen Lord Byron. May I ask one favour, that you will what has been achieved in France. A similar revolution allow my servants to bring from the balloon the box of could never before have been accomplished in a similar MSS. of which you spoke ; and if they contain no secrets, way. I composed a few lines to-day upon the subject, but are merely literary compositions, you will perhaps which I shall be happy to recite to you if you will not gratify us so far as to permit us to look over them with think it tedious. you?

The Editor. Nothing, I am sure, could afford us THE EDITOR. With all my heart.

greater pleasure than to hear them. Lord Byron (to his Major-domo). Quish quash rotty

(Shelley recites the following poem :) fiddle-diddle tock.

ON THE LATE NEWS FROM FRANCE.
Major-domo, Tock, tock.
[ The Major-domo goes to the balloon for the box of

By Percy Bysshe Shelley.
MSS. Some of the other domestics arrange them- A sound, as of a mighty angel singing,
selves into a conveyance resembling a palanquin, Or far off thunder, strikes my listening ear;
and carry it in triumph to the villa. Lord Byron Now loud, now faint, by turns alternate ringing,
conducts the Editor and Mr Green into a magni- Whilst the loud echoes, clearer, and more clear,
ficent apartment, furnished in an indescribable man O'er sky and cloud, and each harmonious hill,
ner, at one end of which Burns and Shelley are

Reverberate, like harmony
discovered conversing with each other. Lord Byron

Of evening, or melody introduces the Editor and Mr Green, and the whole of music heard in an autumnal sky, party sit down to a splendid repast, consisting of which dies, yet leaves behind its sympathy to thrill indescribable dishes.

Was it a voice ? perchance, while deeply musing Tur. Editor. I certainly never expected to have sat What Heaven-oppress'd mortality inherits, down to table with Byron, Burns, and Shelley, in this The king-deluded world's ancestral ill, life.—if I can use the phrase, “this life,” now that I am Conjured before the sad, o'er wearied spirit's in the mooni.

Faint organs, sounds as of the electric loosing

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STANZAS WRITTEN ON A COPY OF THE ENGRAVING OP ROBERT

Of the Promethean adamantine chain,

[Tue Editor gives a large bunch of MSS. to Buruk Hark! 'tis the articulate voice-it comes again! again!

Shelley, and Byron, reserving some for himself. A

short pause, during which the party is engaged i Mine eyes' clear orbits, like the beaten flint,

looking over the papers. Sparkle with fire, a whirlwind wraps my soul,

Burns (smiling). Well, this is remarkable. The very Dim visions float before me, and imprint

first poem' I have hit upon bas a reference to myself. It! Their forms on earnest words, which, as they roll,

is addressed to a portrait of me, lately published, from a The faltering tongue distinctly scarce pronounces :

painting by my old friend Taylor, whom I remember Last of the Labdacidæ,

well—a man of fine genius, but he died before he had Listen to the prophecy,

time to distinguish himself. Which, long begun, soon ends, alas, in thee!

The Editor. That portrait has been splendidly engraved Thought-winged liberty thy life denounces ;

by Horsburgh, of Edinburgh; and your two successors, And destiny, with endless involution,

the Ettrick Shepherd and Allan Cunningham, have both Folds the high house of (Edipus.--I see

pronounced it an admirable likeness. In one of his letters The lesson shadow'd in the past,--the fire,

to me, Cunningham says;" I beg you will thank Jr Dealt to another's pile, just retribution

Henry Constable in my name, for the welcome present Makes on its own creator back retire ;

he made me of Taylor's head or Robert Burns. I could Invok'st thou Celtic anarchs from the North?

have singled it out for the poet among a thousand porCall on Cimmerian wolves, what one shall dare come traits : it gives a very good idea of his person, such as forth?

he was when he arrived in Nithsdale ; perhaps he was Men hear the signal, and they come array'd

a shade swarthier, and those lines which thought or care In the resistless might of hate, and thrust

impress on the face a degree deeper. His large, bright From its grey throne, the Python, by whose aid

eyes, and his manly looks, have made a strong impression Power long hath poison'd all the springs of life ;

on the painter, as they made on all who ever met him. Lamp of the earth! thy light all mists subdued ;

I have had it framed, and hung up among my other worShont! for the world's young morn is, as a snake's, re

thies. There is no name on the print, but such is the new'd.

resemblance to Nasmyth's portrait, that all who see it All old things now are pass'd away, and Error

immediately say, ' Ah, Burns !'” Flies, like a cloud, from the regenerate earth;

Burns. I confess it gives me pleasure to be spoken of Immortal Truth again holds up her mirror

thus by a man like Allan Cunningham. These verses To wrongs engender'd at the Hydra's birth;

are far too complimentary for me to presume to read And startled nations hail the wish'd commotion,

them. When loud the voice divine,

The Editor. They are too good, however, to be lost; “Let equal laws be thine,

and though the author, I daresay, little expected that they And Light and Truth,” resounds from Freedom's shrine, should be read in your presence, you must permit me to Driving through the pale world a spirit of deep emotion. do him that justice. (The Editor reads.) Lord Byron. These are lines worthy of yourself, Shel

BURNS FROM TAYLOR'S LATELY RECOVERED PICTURE. ley; and now that we are becoming poetical, I am happy to inform you that our friend the Editor has brought us

By Thomas Atkinson. a treat from the earth, which I am sure you will enjoy And this was Scotland's noblest son of song ! -a box of poetical contributions to that ablest of all pe How calm his mien-how sadly still his look! riodicals, not even excepting the Liberal,—the Enix Where be the flashes, bright and brief, yet strong, BURGH LITERARY Journal. They come, he tells me, Of mirth that revels, though the wise rebuke? from a hundred living bards, scattered all over broad Tell me, thou limner, in wbat secret nook Scotland, and will consequently afford us a pretty accu Of this expanse of chasten'd countenance, rate notion of the present state of poetry in that country. There lurk'd the gibe and jest which often shook

Burns. I thank Heaven for the wind that blew the The stolid crowd-in wit's omnipotence ? Editor hither! Tears start into my eyes even now at Why live not these in this—and where their recompense ? the bare mention of auld Scotland. Well do I remember its thousand sunny places, made sunnier and dearer Lurks the rich treasure in that placid gaze by the warm hearts that inhabit them! There have been In the deep meaning of these full.orb'd eyes— those who have pronounced the Scottish people cold of In the veild lustre which, as through a haze mood, and little given to enthusiasm. O, if I had them Of mellowing beauty, mcekly lifts the guise but for one hour on the braes o' Doon, or gathered to Of mere humanity, and shows what lies gether over that peck o' maut which Willie brewed, I In the far chambers of the soul still kept ? would make them renounce their heresy on bended It does !—it does !-and, O! more dcar I prize knees, and with uplifted voices! I may live on through The soft, yet manly sadness that bath crept all time, and under millions of varying circumstances, but O'er this, than would I all the heights by art o'erleapt, Scotland has so twined herself into my nature, that I shall for ever consider myself her child, and hers alone. Look! what a brow soars o'er these arched spells, Let us see what her glorious band of brother bards are That fix my gaze, they look so sad on me! doing. Whether they be illustrious or not in the com See! where hid meaning into language swells mon ears of men, they carry with them their own reward. Upon these lips, that seem as tremblingly God bless them all!

To heave, as leaves upon a wind.woo'd tree ! The Editor (opening the box of MSS.) I shall divide Yet prophet power hath touch'd them with its fire ; these papers among us, and we can each look over our With burning balm love dew'd them thrillingly! own sbare, and read aloud those which appear to us wor Have they not blazed, like lightning on a pyre, thy of that distinction. We must pass over many in As from them flash'd the words that speak a patriot's ire ? silence, but not with contempt; and if what we do here this day be ever known on earth, I would entreat all 0! it is deeply true—no transient glance those whose productions are not mentioned, to believe that Can tell the meaning of the poet's look; I, for one, entertain the most kindly feelings towards For who shall say, who on one mood may chance them, and will be happy to do them, at any time, all the To wondering gaze, that he hath not mistook yood in my power.

The hue the momont's inspiration tool,

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