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The fate of nations;-the king alone
Is fetter'd down to a gluey throne;

While all the ministers round him dance,
Crushing him to the grave at once!
Beautiful fly! cast off that limb,
And in the glue just let it swim;
For better far it is to fly

Without that leg, than there to die!

Mr Thomas Brownlee, thou may'st write to us again.

In the following verses there is something like true passion and earnest sincerity,-attributes in which most modern love poems are wofully deficient :

I CANNOT CEASE TO LOVE.

I mark'd thy charms of form and mind, unfolding day by day,

Nor fear'd that love to my proud heart could ever find a way;

A fierce and stormy soul was mine, that triumph'd in its power,

And more than e'er a well-won field enjoy'd the battle's hour.

But, as to Israel's moody king the holy Shepherd's lay Brought back his peace of mind, and chased the evil power away,

Thy gentle spirit through my breast with soothing influence stole,

And breathed into an alter'd man a new and purer soul.

All unobserved a boundless love has gain'd upon my mind:

Thus springs where first they welter forth the searcher
cannot find;

Nor can, save in a waving line of fresher, juicier green,
Amid the drier herbage round, their early course be seen.

I dare not ask for love again; as soon the boisterous north
Might hope to lure, before their time, the young spring's
flowerets forth,—

As soon the dark and stormy soul, by passion's tempest riven,

To win, by its convulsive throes, the quietude of heaven.

I cannot cease to love; enough of hopes that fairly shone,
Unripen'd to reality, have in succession gone,

As any a flower of gorgeous show that courts the sum-
mer wind,

Fades vainly on its barren stalk, and leaves no fruit be-
hind.

I cannot cease to love; the more I see my hopes are vain,
I seek, with self-will'd lunacy, to wake them up again;
Oh! if this glow that warms my heart could from its
dwelling sever,

That heart in icy selfishness must close itself for ever.
I'll love thee still, whate'er betide! That calm and lofty

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Take thou my thanks, and wishes! May increase
Of joy grow with thy years! May golden peace
Herald thy footsteps, as thou mov'st through life,
A happy maiden or a happier wife!
May the calm eve of thy existence be

As pure and gentle as the tones that fell
Upon my soul, when yonder ivory key,
Was touch'd by thy light fingers skilfully!
And when thy spirit bows before His throne,
May thy soul drink such music as thy own!
Glasgow, hath her poets not a few, and most of them
She hath
we have already introduced to our readers.
her poetesses too, and here are some verses by one of her
best:

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When the tourist has found a good inn, and swallowed a good dinner, and enjoyed a pleasant nap, he naturally yawns out an enquiry as to the objects worth seeing in the neighbourhood of his halt; and having been satisfied of their existence and locality, thrusts his note-book into a side-pocket, and sallies determinedly forth. To save those who may visit our village the delay of question and answer, when they might be actually admiring the scenes themselves, permit me to burden your all-engrossing First, let him Journal with a few hints and directions.

visit Dunolly Castle, concerning which he will please to be informed, that it was, in ancient times, the residence of the powerful Lords of Lorne; one of whom, being in league with Edward of England, had wellnigh caused the death of King Robert the Bruce; in evidence whereof, there still remains in the family the brooch of that monarch" then most feloniously estranged from his person," according to the words of an old writer. Be this as it may, the holder of the brooch can boast an antiquity, which makes most of our oldest families look young in the comparison. On his return, the tourist can contemplate the pillar to which, according to tradition, Fingal fastened his "dogs of chase." Hence, it gets the name of "The Dog-Stone." Let him then pass to the other side of the bay, and he will find the " Skull Cave," connected with which is the following tradition :-More than a century ago, when the plague was making its death-dispensing journeys over Europe, but had as yet spared our own land, a foreign vessel suffered shipwreck in the sound of Kerrara, and the crew with difficulty reached the shore. The rude natives, dreading the pestilence, of which exaggerated tidings had reached them, beckoned the strangers to this cave, and blocking up the entrance with huge stones, enclosed them for ever. The barrier has been long removed, but many think that certain infection and death, of course, would ensue to him who dared cross the threshold. If so, The Edinburgh Literary Journal has a plague-struck contributor.-Next let the tourist take a wherry, and within an hour he is becalmed under the shadow of Castle-Ghoalan, perhaps the most picturesque ruin his eye ever saw. Then away with a fair wind to Dunstaffnage; and there I leave him to read this sonnet which it inspired :

The setting sun of summer pour'd his rays

Into the hush of thy grey solitude,
When last on yonder grassy bank I stood,
Pondering upon the aye-departed days,

When the broad banner deck'd these towers of thine,-
And in thy hall, now dim and desolate,
At close of even the knights and ladies sate
Mid light, and music, and the sparkling wine.
Again I see thee-but a duskier hue

Thy melancholy aspect mantles o'er,—
The sky hath lost its smile of cloudless blue,
The flow'ret blossoms at my feet no more,-
And coldly doth the breath of Ruin climb
From out thy dungeon-depths-thou pile of olden time.

We have an ingenious correspondent of an acute and versatile turn of mind in the small village of West-Houses. There is a great deal of truth to nature, and of simple Scottish feeling, in the two little songs of his, which we subjoin:

TWO SONGS.

I.

There lives a young lassie

Beside yon green bower; She is sweet as the dewdrop, And fair as the flower; For the smile o' her favour, The glance o' her ee,

The truest believer

A sinner might be.

As the roses that live in

The bosom of June,

When the snaw comes frae heaven,

Are wither'd and strewn ;

So hope in this bosom

Would wither and dee,

If away from the blossom

Makes summer to me.

When the shadows o' ev'ning

Arise in the cast,

O come, my dear lassie,

O come to my breast!
If I miss the sweet glint o'
Thy bonnie black ee,
I'll kiss where the print o'
Thy footsteps should be.

II.

'Twas a night fu' o' gloom,
'Twas dark and 'twas late,
But he promised to come,
And I promised to wait;
I dress'd at the gloaming,
Sat down to my wheel,
And sigh'd for his coming,
I lo'ed him sae weel.

My heart said he'll come,
Though my lips they said no;
And I eerily thought on

The drift and the snow;
At last a wee tappie

Was heard at the door,
My heart play'd pit-pattie,
I flew to the bar.
"'Tis something uncannie,"
I said, and withdrew;
A voice cried 'twas Johnnie,
And what could I do?
O! he kiss'd me sae fondly,
I think o' it yet;
And at that very meeting
Our bridal was set.

Two other poems and we have done. The first is

STANZAS TO

In my first dream of boyhood I loved thee,
How dearly, my manhood has shown;
Nor sorrows nor dangers have moved me→→→
I've loved thee, and loved thee alone!
The frowns of the world, nor the storm,
Though it threaten'd, e'er made me depart;
They prey'd on my cheek, on my form,

But they never could alter my heart

When sickness and sorrow assail'd thee,

Oh! found you not still by your side The arm that has never yet fail'd thee,

That would shield thee whatever betide? There was not a dark frown of fate

That I fear'd, whilst those eyes beam'd on mine;

I laugh'd at what others call'd hate,
Whilst bless'd with a love such as thine.

And now that my hopes are all thwarted,
They betray me who could not subdue;
But although my false friends have departed,
Wilt thou, like the rest, vanish too?
Oh, no! 'tis the slanderer's spite;

What thou wert thou wilt still be to me-
Thou couldst not so cruelly blight

The bosom that beats but for thee! R. L.

Our concluding communication comes from an anony mous friend in Glasgow. We should not have made room for it, had we not thought it poetical to a marked degree:

MY BRIGHT ONE.

My bright one! Thou are moving through The light and graceful dance;

And there is pride upon thy brow,

And sunshine in thy glance;
And gleams of pearl look out upon
Thy wealth of braided hair,

And jewels flash-like starlight thrown
Upon the thankless air.

The voice of song!—the air is rife
With a dream of glorious things,
Thy harp is thrilling with the life
Of all its shining strings;

Thy head is bow'd in beauty down,
Thy lips are half apart ;

The poet's deepest thought is thrown
Forth from thy glowing heart!

Yet would thou wert where softly falls

On flower the evening light,-

On the dim, deep streams, on the cottage walls,
With the woodbine trail'd and bright!
Thy steps should be where the lily weeps,
And the breeze be in thy hair,

And blessings should break from faltering lips,
And thou be named in prayer.

There is not one copy of verses among all those we have given which is not worth the attention we have bestowed upon it; and here in one day we have brought together, and we say it boldly, because we say it truly, --a collection of poems, mostly by persons as yet little known in the literary world, as good and as varied as is to be met with upon an average in most of the Annuals. The capabilities of our own country are thus placed in a very strong point of view. They who will take the trouble to call forth and encourage genius may always be sure of meeting with it; and, if they seek for reward, they will not fail to obtain it in those feelings which invariably accompany the belief that they have added to the happiness of a portion of their fellow-creatures, and encouraged them to pursue a path in which spring up the fairest blossoms of virtue and of peace. To aid in this benevolent, and perhaps too much neglected, duty, will ever be one of the favourite objects of the EDITOR IN HIS SLIPPERS.

THE DRAMA.

THE Theatre closed for the season with Miss Kemble's benefit on Saturday last. We were not present; but Miss Kemble's performance of Euphrasia, in the " Grecian Daughter" seems generally to have been considered one of her most successful efforts. Our opinions with regard to this young lady are already recorded, and it is needless to go over the ground again ; but a fact has come to our knowledge in the course of the week, which we Sir Walter Scott, in a think ought to be made known.

am induced, in behalf of my friend, to appeal to the candour
and equity of those whom I have now the honour of ad-
dressing; and who will, if necessary, lend a willing ear to
his vindication. The truth is, Mr Murray's health had
been for some time declining; and in so alarming a degree,
that his best friends saw no remedy but in an entire change
of habits, and total relaxation from business.
So great,
however, was poor Murray's repugnance to "quit the post
assigned him here," that nothing but Mrs Siddons's convic-
tion that the preservation of his life might depend upon
his compliance with their wishes could induce him to yield
to the advice of his physicians or the more anxious en-
treaties of sisterly love-combined, however, they prevailed,
and I have now the satisfaction of informing his friends
and the public, that he is considerably recovered, and that
the first use which he has made of returning health, has
been to devote himself with all the ardour which you know
he possesses, to the projected improvements of this esta-
blishment, under the new patent. To the renovation of
the scenery and wardrobes; to the engagement of the most
distinguished talent which is to be procured; and, in short,
to every other circumstance which may contribute to ren-
der the Edinburgh Theatre worthy of that galaxy of beauty
and the host of talent and of rank which I now see before
me. Your applause convinces me, that, on this point, I
need say no more, and that the man whom I am happy to
call my friend, has been in your opinion fully justified.
The season has been, upon the whole, a satisfactory, though
not a very profitable one; and I am enjoined by Mrs Sid-
dons to return you her best thanks for the patronage which
has made it so, together with her heartfelt acknowledgments
of all your goodness to her during the long period of the
now expiring patent. She begs me to assure you, that
while she exists, that goodness will be remembered by her
with emotions of the sincerest regard and most profound
respect. The company, ladies and gentlemen, entertain a
lively sense of the encouragement which their various ta-
lents have received from you during the season; and though
the last, not the least sensible of the debt they owe for the
highly-distinguished reception which they have met with in
Edinburgh, my daughter and I beg to record our grateful
testimony of your extreme kindness and liberality. And
now, ladies and gentlemen, with united wishes for your
general health and prosperity, in the well-known lines of a
bard not less endeared to English than to Scottish hearts, I
most respectfully take my leave.

"To all, to each, a fair good night,

And pleasing dreams and slumbers light."

(Applause.)

Mr Murray must be prepared against next season to give a new impulse to the affairs of his establishment, and this can only be done by setting about his improvements on a spirited and comprehensive plan. The scenery should be entirely new, and so should the dresses; the orchestra should be greatly strengthened; there should be more supernumeraries, and more clever actors of inferior parts; there should be a corps de ballet, containing some handsome females, and none that are positively ugly; there should be a lady to do justice to the leading parts letter to a literary friend in this town, has not only ex-in opera, and another to sustain those of tragedy and copressed himself highly delighted with Miss Kemble's acting, but has expressly stated that he has not seen any one whom he thought her equal since the retirement of Mrs Siddons. They who are capable of judging for themselves may not, perhaps, be greatly influenced by this, especially as we believe Sir Walter was in the theatre only one evening during Miss Kemble's engagement; but a favourable verdict from the most eminent man of the day will not be a matter of indifference to the great mass of play-going people, and Miss Kemble is entitled to all the advantages which can accrue from it.

It being customary to deliver a farewell address at the close of the season, Mr Kemble, in the absence of Mr Murray, made the following speech :—

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN-This being the last night of the theatrical season, I am deputed by Mrs Henry Siddons, in the absence of her brother, to make you the accustomed farewell address. Lest Mr Murray's absence, from one or two surmises which have reached me, may be imputed, if not to neglect, at least to carelessness of public opinion, I

medy; there should be a better leader of the male business than Barton, and an infinitely better man singer than Larkin. We shall say more upon this subject ere long; at present we feel inclined to indulge our three heads with a short nap.

Old Cerberus.

METROPOLITAN THEATRICALS.

London, June 28th, 1830.

"The summer having set in with its usual severity," our leviathan theatres have now both closed; and, as a pleasant relaxation from the toils of the eight months' season, the managers have commenced a furious crusade against their minor rivals, for playing the legitimate drama without a license. "Guerre à l'outrance" is their avowed motto, and, after much previous drumming and trumpeting on both sides, the first act of hostilities

took place at the Bow-street Police Office on Thursday last, when, to the unspeakable delight of the Tottenham Street dramatis persona, the Magistrates dismissed the information; though the farce is to be repeated, it seems, by particular desire, this week. Eschewing the manifest temptation to embellish my narrative by quoting, ""Tis excellent to have a giant's strength,"-" Man, dressed in a little brief authority,"-" Oh! that some power the gift would gie us," and divers other "odd branches of learning," and pithy aphorisms, to the same effect, I cannot but express my regret at an interference, which, to say the least of it, is exceedingly impolitic; and must, in all probability, cause a reaction, which will ultimately enable the minors to do legally, what they now do by courtesy only, since it would be the height of folly to deny that the triumph of Thursday was solely owing to the ingenuity of the defendants' counsel, Charles Phillips; or that all the theatres acting under the magistrates' license only, do not infringe the law every night they are Their proprietors will, of course, now make it a common cause; and the result, I trust, will be some final, and, at the same time, equitable arrangement, to suit, if possible, the interest of all parties.

open.

The late Covent Garden season has been, I am rejoiced to say, most deservedly prosperous, which prosperity extended not only to the concern, but to the performers' benefits; more than one of which produced, with presents, upwards of £700, clear of all expenses: though Fawcett's last leave-taking was as complete a piece of theatrical quackery and stage effect as was ever exhibited on those or any other boards. As an actor, he was always much overrated; and as a manager, he was the very reverse of popular,―so much so, indeed, that I can account for his fellow-performers crowding round him on his last night, only upon the supposition of their joy at getting rid of him. In the discharge of his managerial duties, he knew no more of the "suaviter in modo," than he did of the language the words are written in; and his "fortiter in re" was equally despotic in tone and tendency. When Covent Garden Theatre was in its depth of difficulties last autumn, Mr Fawcett, then stage-manager, neither gave nor lent one shilling towards the extrication of a concern to which he was indebted for all his fame and fortune; and he has now retired upon a pension for himself and wife, of whom very few persons ever heard as an actress, from the Theatrical Fund, to which he also still continues treasurer, and will therefore, at the next anniversary, with his usual cast-iron eloquence, beg for himself! I offer no remarks on these facts; they speak for themselves.

Drury Lane having got rid of its American legislator, is now preparing for a new campaign under its Jewish lessee, with whom retrenchment and economy are to be the order of the day, and the star system is, for the hundredth time, promised to be abolished.-Mr Joseph Wood and the ex Lady William Lennox are singing duets to the admirers of public and private virtue in Dublin, whence they talk of emigrating to New York; and Kean is playing his "last six nights in England," at the Haymarket. Vauxhall Gardens opened on Friday last; and Mathews closes a very successful season this evening. The theatres, which were all closed on Saturday last, on account of the decease of his late Majesty, are, by an act of grace on the part of our present Sovereign, permitted to re-open to-night, and to remain so until the three days of the Royal lying-in-state and funeral, which will most probably be on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, the 12th, 13th, and 14th of July.-My writing has been interrupted by the arrival of the heraldic cortége for proclaiming KING WILLIAM THE FOURTH, which ceremony is just completed, amidst the deafening acclamations of one of the greatest crowds I ever saw in London. Thus auspiciously has commenced the reign of another scion of the illustrious House of Brunswick; and when he, too, hall tread that dark valley, whence death conducts to

immortality, may it be as truly said of WILLIAM as of GBORGE,

"His people's heart is his funeral urn;

And, though sculptured stone were denied him,
There will his name be found, when in turn
We lay our heads beside him."

ORIGINAL POETRY.

THE SWEETEST SPOT.

FROM THE PERSIAN OF MESNAVI.

By the Author of " Anster Fair." O! THOU, whose foot, erratic still, And restless as thy wayward will, From shore to steep, from vale to hill,

All round this glorious world has reel'd, O! say, of all thine eyes have seen, Each town of gold, each grove of green, Which is the sweetest, happiest scene,

The richest town, the fairest field?

O lady, lady! that dear place,
Though poor of soil and scant in space,
Where she we love, the girl whose grace

Has with sweet bondage bless'd the breast,-
That spot where she in pomp doth bide,
However mean, o'er all beside,
Empires of power and lands of pride,
Is sweetest, richest, fairest, best!
Wherever dwells the maid we prize,
Bright as the moon that walks the skies,
Her presence doth imparadise

The nook where she in light doth move;
Were it a sunless cavern drear,
To her bless'd lover 'twould appear
More rose-bestrew'd, and bright, and clear,
Than Eden rich with light and love.

O thou, my soul's beloved! with thee
The dragon's dungeon would to me
But as a bower of roses be,

All paved and glorified with bliss ;
Heart-plund'rer! whom I love too well,
With thee I joyously could dwell
Even in the howling halls of hell,

And from thy lips an Eden kiss!

GENTLENESS.

OH! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me! 'Tis this has bound my soul so long, so tenderly to thee,— The gentle heart, like jewel bright beneath the ocean blue, In every look and tone of thine still shining sweetly through!

What though the crowd with wonder bow before great genius' fire,

And wit with lightning-flash commands to reverence and admire ;

'Tis gentleness alone that gains the tribute of our love, And falls upon the ear like dew on flowers, from heaven above!

Ah! many a day has past since then, yet I remember well, Once from my lips an angry thought in hasty accents fell; A word of wrath I utter'd in a light and wayward moodOf wrath !—to thee, my earliest friend, the noble and the good!

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Nor breathes there one, however poor

Or titled, lofty or obscure,

But mark'd in him, where'er he went,
The friend-the man-the monarch blent.

And brawling faction hush'd her broils, And wreath'd her stormy brow in smiles; And Envy, finding nought to blame, Conceal'd her gorgon head in shame.

But all is o'er; and "dust to dust"
In kindred mood now mingle must;
And hush'd and tranquil there shall rest,
Like slumb'ring babe on mother's breast.

Pile ye no mausoleum high,
Whose cloudy peak may brave the sky;
Nor lofty panegyric trace
Upon his lonely resting-place.

But on the bier that hides our friend, Let Scotia's flower with Erin's blend ; And write, where roses wreath above, "Here lies a generous peoples' love."

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

THE Concluding volume of the works of Burckhardt the traveller will appear in a few days, and will be entitled, Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, illustrated from their proverbial sayings. Lord Francis Leveson Gower is on the eve of publishing the Camp of Wallenstein, translated from the German, with original Poems. General Sir Hew Dalrymple announces an account of his own proceedings whilst in command at Gibraltar, and afterwards when commander of the forces in Portugal, including, in as far as he was concerned, a full and faithful narrative of the Peninsular War.

Major Leith Hay is preparing for publication a Narrative of the Peninsular Campaigns, extending from 1808 to 1811, in which the scenes personally witnessed by this gallant officer will be delineated from journals kept from day to day.

The Journal of a Tour, made by Senor Juan de Vega, the Spanish Minstrel of 1828 and 1829, through Great Britain and Ireland, a character personated by an English Gentleman, is announced.

The Anatomy of Society, by Mr St John, will be published in the autumn.

Mr Dyce is preparing the dramatic works of Robert Greene, uniform with his editions of Peele and Webster; to which are to be added, the poems contained in his prose tracts, with an account of the author and his writings.

Mr Ackerman announces a new Annual for 1831, entitled the Humorist, to be edited by W. H. Harrison, author of "Tales of a Physician," with wood engravings from drawings by the late Mr Rowlandson.

A translation of Professor Heeren's valuable works is in the press. Lord Nugent is engaged upon a work to be entitled, Hampden's Character, Conduct, and Policy, as well as those of the party with whom he acted. It is anticipated that the noble author will be enabled to illustrate this era of our history with much original information.

Mr Galt's new novel of Southennan is illustrative of that period of Scottish history which intervened between the arrival of Queen Mary from France and the murder of Rizzio. The story turns on the attachment of Chatelar to Mary. Among other histo ical characters introduced are, the Earls of Murray and Morton, who were afterwards Regents of Scotland.

In the work entitled Norrington, or the Memoirs of a Peer, which will shortly make] its appearance, circumstances are introduced which have actually occurred, and many characters, known both here and in the metropolis of a sister isle, occupy a prominent place. We have received the first volume of the Juvenile Library. It seems a handsomely got up publication. We shall speak of its intrinsic merits next Saturday.

We observe that the Dublin Literary Gazette, which has now arrived at the 26th No. is to be discontinued in its present shape, but is henceforward to be published monthly under the title of the DubBin Literary Gazette and National Magazine. This periodical has hitherto been conducted with much respectability.

CHARLES AND FANNY KEMBLE.-We have seen two busts, which have just been executed by Lawrence Macdonald, of Charles Kemble and his daughter. We do not think that this eminent sculptor has

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