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Of youth had past unclouded by

Mute, motionless, as if he slept, While art essayed in vain to save,

His head upon her breast reclined ; Or smoothe his passage to the grave. And yet, though horror coldly crept Whate'er his inward pangs might be, Through every vein, she never wept,

He told not-mute, and meekly still, Calm and resolved, but not resigned.

He bowed him to Jehovah's will, When Hope's last lingering ray was o'er, Nor murmured ať the stern decree;

Despair itself her heart might steel, For gently falls the chastening rod

Through all that she had felt before On him, whose hope is in his God :

And all that she was now to feel. For her too, who beside his bed

Ha! why that wild convulsive start? Still watched with fond maternal care, The agony has reached his heart ;

For her he breathed the pious prayer The parting pang, that throbs no more, The tear of love and pity shed.

Has withered life, and all is o'er. Oft would he bid her try to rest,

No! still he lives; th’ unequal strife
And turn his pallid face away,

Still nature bears, if that be life-
Lest some unguarded look betray A closing conflict-soon to cease-
The pangs, nor sigh nor sound expressed. A prelude to eternal peace.
When torture racked his breast, 'twas known A moment as the fiery ball
By sudden shivering starts alone:

Flashes, but darkens ere it fall;
Yet would her searching glance espy A moment, waked from that deep trance,
The look of stifled agony-

His eye beamed forth, and in its glance For what can ’scape a mother's eye ? There was a fiery energyShe deemed in health she loved him more A lambent ray, life's last endeavour Than ever mother loved before ;

To sparkle ere it fade for ever But oh! when thus in cold decay,

And summon all its strength-to die. So placid, so resigned he lay,

Still heavenly Hope's undying flame And she beheld him waste away,

Shone 'midst the wreck of nature's frame; And marked that gentle tenderness

And through the mortal could she see Which watched and wept for her distress: The germ of immortality, Then did her transient firmness melt He strove to speak-he gasped for breath To tears of love, more deeply felt ;

Not all in vain-though instant death And dearer still he grew-and dearer Had touched his heart; one faltering word E'en as the day of death drew nearer.

He spoke, and yet another ; The very spirit of domestic love must (The rest were as a dying groan, have watched over the young poet,

An indistinct and hollow moan :) when he wrote what follows:

And all he said, and all she heard, Noon came and fled and evening grey

Was, “ mother ! dearest mother!” Cast o'er the room a sombre shade :

Life could no more: he sighed-he ceased Alike to her were night and day

His head upon her bosom lay;-Her eye was never turned away

She looked without a groan released, From the low couch where he was laid.

The soul had passed away. She could not weep-she could not pray,

A smile was still upon his face, Her soul was dark-and with despair

A placid calmness on his brow, Devotion mingles not the prayer

Which Death itself could not erase; Breathed hopelessly, was breathed in vain:

These might have soothed her once, but Her all of being centred there,

And dragged her thoughts to earth again. 'Tis eve—the sun's departing beam
Her's was that bitterness of woe,
Which sighs or tears can never reach,

Serenely sheds his purest gleam ; Which mocks, the bounded powers of The liquid clouds of airy lightness, speech

Which tempered his meridian brightness, A recklessness of all below

Float graceful thro' the fragrant air, Of all around-above--but one

And thousand hues reflected there, The dying youth she gazed upon.

In varied lustre shine ; So looks the mariner on the wave,

Day, like a virgin, whose young bloom, Which onward rolls his opening grave;

Lost love, and blighted hopes consume, On battle fields, with slaughter red,

Is loveliest in decline. Where friend by friend has fought and bled, It beams for all-yet only he, So looks the dying on the dead.

Whose breast from pining care is free, Her hopes, her love, her earthly bliss,

(If such, alas ! on earth there be,) Her very soul was bound in his ;

Will gaze on that fair eastern sky, And now the fatal hour was nigh,

With bounding heart and raptured eye. When all but life with him must die,

We cannot resist quoting one more And what when he had ceased to be, Oh! what was life but misery?

exquisite passage from this beautiful A night with cheerless gloom o'ercast,

version of one the most beautiful A maddening memory of the past ;

stories told in Holy Writ. We do The desert of the joyless breast,

so chiefly, (not solely) on account of Death's apathy--without its rest.

the singular felicity of the description



weep not."

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of our Saviour's personal appearance. by Nerva, on his sucsession to the * It is the first time, we speak, so far as

thirone. W. believe there is no reawe know, without exaggeration, that son to doubt the accuracy of this trawords have been found capable of ex- dition ; but if invention it be, surely

pressing what long ago the angelic it is one of the most touching and Es pencil of Raphael dared and delighted beautiful of inventions. The Apostle, set to pourtray. The funeral procession we are told, was one day engaged in 4 is going on when our Lord appears

a solemn ordination of ministers to su and says, to the widowed mother, serve in the church of Ephesus, when,

looking round, his eye rested on, and

was detained by the extraordinay love“ The mourner-speechless and amazed, is On that mysterious stranger gazed,

liness and apparent innocence of the If young he were, 'twas only seen

countenance of a certain youth who e From lines that told what once had been ;

stood in the midst of the congregation. As if the wind of Time

Turning to the bishop, on whom he Had smote him ere he reached his prime.

had just laid his hands, he exclaimed; The bright rose on his cheek was faded, “ In the presence of the church, and His pale fair brow with sadness shaded in the sight of Christ, I commit this Yet through the settled sorrow there

young man to your utmost diligence." A conscious grandeur flash'd-which told The presbyter received the charge, and Unswayed by man, and uncontrolled,

in obedience to it, admitted the youth Himself had deigned their lot to share, -ai And borne-because he willed to bear.

into his own family, where he was Whate'er his being or his birth,

baptized, instructed, and reared up to His soul had never stooped to earth ;

manhood with all manner of kind and Nor mingled with the meaner race,

christian superintendence. In process Who shared or swayed his dwelling place : of time, however, he becomes acpy But high--mysterious and unknown, quainted with a set of dissolute youths, - Held converse with itself alone :

who make it their whole business to And yet the look that could depress Pride to its native nothingness ;

exercise upon him every instrument And bid the specious boaster shun

of temptation--and, at last, he falls. he dared not gaze upon,

One degree of vicious indulgence suc Superior love did still

ceeds to another; until, at length, as Not such as man for man may feel

the ecclesiastical historian has finally No-all was passionless and pure

said, he, like a spirited and unThat godlike majesty of woe,

bridled charger, galloping from theright Which counts it glory to endure path, and champing his reins, is hur

And knows nor hope nor fear below ; ried, by the very nobility of his soul, Nor aught that still to earth can bind,

more deeply into the abyss.' The But love and pity for mankind.

end of his wicked course is, that he And in his eye a radiance shone. Oh ! how shall mortal dare essay,

retires to Mount Taurus, with a numOn whom no prophet's vest is thrown,

ber of the wild young men who had To paint that pure celestial ray ? corrupted him, and, being elected their Mercy, and tenderness, and love,

captain on account of his superior And all that finite sense can deem bravery, holds the whole region in terOf him who reigns enthroned above ; ror by the boldness of his depreda

Light-such as blest Isaiah's dream, tions. When to the awe-struck Prophet's eyes, A few years having elapsed, the old God bade the star of Judah riseThere heaven in living lustre glowed

Apostle returns to Ephesus, and after There shone the Saviour---there the God."

transacting all public business of the

church, turns suddenly round to the The other poem is founded on a bishop, saying, “Now, O bishop, rewell known and most beautiful passage store to me the deposit which Christ of Eusebius, which relates the eccle- and I, in the sight of this people, comsiastical tradition concerning the events mitted to thy care." The bishop unof St John the Apostle's visit to Ephe- derstands him not at first but being sus, after he had been set free from the asked in more explicit terms concernconfinement of Patmos, in consequence ing the young man, rends his garof the death of Domitian, and the to- ments, and tells the story of his per-, leration extended to all the Christians . version, as it had happened.

The eye

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* Δια μεγεθος φυσεως εκστας, ώσσερ αστομος και Ευρωστος Τασος όρθης όδε, και τον χαλί , Ενδακων, μειζονος κατά των βαραθρων εφερετο...EUSEB. Cap. 23. Vol. VIII.

2 A

The aged Apostle immediately in- that is a matter of very inferior consiquired in what part of the mountain deration in regard to a writer of his the young man lay with his band. standing. It is enough for us, and Being provided with a guide, he pe- will be enough for our readers, to see netrates the defiles of Taurus till he that Mr D. possesses the strong eleapproaches the region infested by ments of poetical power; and no fear them. His guide then leaves him but he will hereafter know better how but John advances, having determine and on what subjects to employ them. ed to see the captain of the band. To speak in the language with which he The old man is captured by some of himself is most familiar, the ws and the robbers, and is soon carried into the we are very subordinate affairs to the presence of their chief. We shall the ori. give the result in the words of Euse We have already quoted so much bius himself.

from the “ Widow of Nain,” that “ The leader, armed as he was, awaited we must keep within bounds as to his arrival. And when he recognized John “ The Outlaw of Taurus;" and yet advancing towards him, overpowered with we know not well what passages to shame, he betook himself to flight. But select, for the whole piece flows on the apostle, forgetful of his age, eagerly in a very equable strain of elegant arpursued him, exclaiming, “ Wherefore do you fly from me, oh my son ! from your dour. We shall give the description father, aged and unarmed ? Pity me, oh of St John himself, as he first appears my child, and fear me not : you still pose in the temple of Diana in the midst sess a hope of salvation. I will make atone of all the splendours of the heathen ment for you to Christ. Willingly would I en worship. dure death on your behalf, even as the Lord died for me. I will give my own life

And now the festive pomp proceeds as a ransom for you : stop, and believe : Christ hath sent me.' The youth hearing But lo! amidst th' adoring train

Which Grandeur gilds, and Beauty leads; these words, at first stood still, with his

Who circle that majestic fane, eyes fixed upon the ground : next he threw off his arms, and, trembling, burst into a

One lonely pilgrim wends along Food of tears. He then met the old man

Unheeded by the busy throng ; advancing, and with bitter sighs and la

He only breathes no lowly prayer, mentations implored his pardon, being, as

And bends no glance of rapture there.

Robed in a simple pilgrim's vest it were, baptized a second time in his tears, only concealing his right hand. Then the Thin scattered locks of purest snow

His arms are folded o'er his breast apostle, pledging his faith, and swearing that he would obtain pardon for him from

Wave o'er a wan and wasted brow,

Whence Time's soft touch hath swept away his Redeemer, having fallen on his knees

Each trace of Passion's earlier sway; and prayed, kissed the right hand of the

And all that once was wont to move young man as if it had been purified by repentance, and led him back to the church.

Hath changed to that meek placid love Having besought God on his behalf with

Which speaks a heart-a hope above.

But wherefore doth he shrink to bow many prayers, and striving together by frequent fastings, and soothing his soul by

Where myriads plight the willing vow ? many scriptural exhortations, the apostle,

When every cheek is flushed with gladness, as they say, did not depart till he had re

Say, whence his brow is wrapt in sadness? stored him to the church, having afforded

And why, when mingling choirs prolong a signal example of sincere penitence, an

In Dian's praise the votive hymn illustrious instance of regeneration, and a

Why turns he from that raptur'd song trophy of a conspicuous resurrection."

With mien as sad and eye as dimDur readers will see at once what a

if that bright exulting train

Were mourners o'er a hero's bier-
fine field of poetical embellishment
this narrative must have opened up to

That melting lay-so soft-so dear

Were but a deep funereal strain. such a poet as Mr Dale ; but in truth, It is not that he proudly deems here, as in the story of the widow of His breast from earth's emotions free; Nain, there is so much beauty in the Not his such cold unfeeling dreams, simplicity of the original sketch, that No rigid heartless stoic he. we doubt, whether, after all, it was pos No lotty philosophic lore sible, that the effect should have been

Hath led him to contemn mankind; improved or strengthened by means of And lured him vainly to explore

The mazes of th' Eternal Mind ;any poetical embellishment whateter. Much as we admire Mr D., we certainly

And learn what nature taught before

That God is wise, and mortals blind. can by no means compliment him on a

The vaunting sophist, weak as proud, judicious selection of subjects--but May turn disdainful from the crowd,

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And smile in selfish scorn to see

ceived, at the hands of the apostle, the Their blindness and their misery

most precious of its earthly rewards, More gently he hath learnt to scan

in the shape of the heroine of the poem, The errors of his; His tears were early taught to flow,

by name, Irene. St John speaks His heart to bleed for others' woe ; When not a sigh, or murmuring groan

“ But what are earth's vain fleeting charms Had spoke the pressure of his own.

To that bright blest eternity

Which waits-Ofavoured maid--for thee? And ask ye whence that ray of Heaven, No high philosophy could teach

The very thought my bosom warms, No bard's enraptured visions reach

As when in rocky Patmos lone

I communed with the Holiest One, That noble generous love was given ?

And o'er my head dread thunders broke, O gaze upon his wasted cheek,

And thus the viewless seraph spoke
His pensive brow, and lowly mien ;

• Mortal ! from earth awake! arise! These lineaments too well bespeak

And view the secrets of the skies.'
The persecuted Nazarene.
And such he was ! the tear that steals

Hearken, my children and behold
Unmarked his secret soul reveals ;

The glories of the latter day; He turns but from that idle shrine

When heaven its portals shall unfold,

And earth and skies shall pass away. a To seek a Saviour more Divine ;

It is the Eternal Sire's decree,
And breathe the meek imploring prayer,

That thus the final hour should be
For those who kneel deluded there.
But know-though driven perchance to roam

Pomp-glory-grandeur shall decay,
Without a refuge or a home-

But his high word endure for aye.
To meet the sneer of cold disdain

One foot on earth, and one on sea,
To pine in peril or in pain-
To share the base marauder's doom

A mighty Angel towers to heaven ;
Or sink unpitied and forgot,

Before his glance the mountains flee ;

Beneath his tread the depths are riven And moulder in a nameless tomb

Wreathed radiant round his brows divine Thrice blessed is the Christian's lot! In darkest shame in deadliest ill

The bright hues of the rainbow shine ; Jehovah is his solace still ;

His aspect-like the broad red glare

Of the fierce sun's meridian ray,
And hope to cheer his path is given,

Beams forth intolerable day
While peace and love from mortals driven
-Await him in his destined heaven.

The glory of the Lord is there.

Loud as the maddening lion's roar,
And seems it strange, when Time hath shed
A hundred winters o'er his head ;

Or as the wild surge beats the shore,
When from his eye the fire hath fled

He speaks-blue lightnings rend the sky,

And heaven in thunder gives reply. His limbs are weak and withered

Ne'er be those sounds, in mystery sealed, Why, bent with sorrows and with age,

To human ear on earth revealed. He yet pursues his pilgrimage ?

And when that fearful sign was given, Ah ! man is ever doomed to roam,

He raised his dread right hand to heaven, Till Peace, that flies a world unblest,

· And thus the oath he sworeAnd rarely dwells in human breast,

“ Ye spacious skies, thou rooted earth, Shall soothe him in his last long home.

By Him who called you into birth On that pale cheek, and patient brow

Your destined date is o'er ; Dejection deep is lowering now

I swear by Him, whose sovereign sway, But say, what earthly fears controul,

The bright angelic hosts obey, What woes can wring a saintly soul ?

By Him who died, and lives for aye,
'Tis not the frown of regal hate,

That time shall be no more.'
This hath he borne, and still could bear

Barth trembled at the sound, but O 'Tis not the impending stroke of Fate;

What shrieks of wailing and of woe,
A Christian knows no terrors there

What frantic yells of wild despair,
Though lone he seems and desolate,

Tumultuous rend the troubled air ; 'Tis not despondence or despair Yes--guilt may stain our best estate

In vain, the day of grace is o'er,

And love and pity plead no more.
But grief like his night angels share.

Mark, where the rock-hewn cavern breaks,
A work of mercy leads him on
To seek and save a wandering son ;

And to his doom th' Oppressor wakes ; We shall conclude with part of the Dashes the diadem from his brow;

Mark, where the fear-struck Despot now energetic address of the same perso- Beneath his foot the firm earth rends ; nage, at the close of this poem. It is The heavens are darkening o'er him ; to be understood, that the outlaw has The Judge-the Sovereign Judge descendsmom already sealed his repentance, and re And who may stand before him?

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Minerva Rooms, Cork, October 26th 1820. MR NORTH, “Sir, I wish to know what you meant by your observations with respect to me in your last month's Tete-a-tete with the public. I purloined you say, Sir, your register of your sale in Ireland, from Ambrose's. Purloined! By my word, my man, you presume not a little on your years, and rheu. matism. Retract then this expression in your next, with all the rapidity of a race-horse, or you shall hear something more than you would perhaps find agreeable. If you wanted your accounts, you knew my address, and could have asked me for them in a letter, post paid, as you yourself say on your title-page.

“ It is fact, indeed, that I took a handful of dirty papers off Ambrose's table, for purposes not worth mentioning, but I did not think them of any use; and it is lucky for you, that I have not worn the same breeches ever since, as they remained safe and forgotten in the bottom of one of the pockets, until your impertinent remark recalled them to my memory. Here then are your accounts for you, and a great shine to be sure you can take out of them. They are well worth making such a fuss about. It is a great mate ter, indeed, you do in Ireland. Only fifteen hundred sold in the whole Island of Saints, from the Giants Causeway, to Capeclear, or as your correspondent Dowden has it,

“ From Cork and Kerry, to Londonderry." Look at the whole kingdom of Connaught, ignorant of your existence,the bog of Allen disregarding you,—the great political party of the Caravats, a body as respectable in Ireland as the Whigs are in Scotland, decidedly inimical to you.—Mr Parnell of Maurice and Berghetta, the knock-me-down antagonist of the Quarterly, thinking of writing a pamphlet to discomfit you.-Charly Phillips, speaking to the men of Sligo, his natale solum, against you,--and many more such weighty obstructions to your circulation, and vapour if you can. Here, I say, is what according to your account, I took from Ambrose's, under my arm. Matchless audacity! Under my arm !! Why Sir, I could have thurst them into a nut-shell, as easily as I could pack into the same compass the solid contents of any of Hazlitt's apologies for Hunt, or Reynolds' eulogiums on Keats.* Yours as you deserve,


Such, gentle reader, is the letter we the gloomy picture he draws of our have just received from the standard- Irish sale, for it is plain to see, it was bearer ; and we are sincerely sorry that written, (to use the phrase of him of we have said any thing, which he could the Emerald Isle,) under the potent possibly construe into an affront, and and parallel pressure of punch and passhall, (if we think of it,) cancel the sion. We shall, therefore, say more obnoxious word in our next edition. about the letter ; but have to remark Indeed, we are of opinion, that Morgan en passant, that our frienå Odoherty's need not have been so angry, but we re account of the preservation of our pacollect his country and profession, to say pers by the change of his breeches, is nothingofhis having probably been after somewhat apocryphal, for we have his sixteenth tumbler. He has cooled ample reason to know, that as the off since, and we are on as good terms wardrobe of the worthy adjutant boasts as ever, as appears by a very friendly but one pair, he has not much opporletter of his, inclosing a most excellent tunity of exhibiting a variety of nether article, since the date of this angry garments, epistle. As for ourselves, we are not Enough of this. We shall now give in the slightest degree discouraged by a few details of the state of our Irish

* The remaining part of Morgan's letter contained an insinuation about Professor Leslie's modesty; something about the possibility of cramming it into amazingly small dimensions; and a few bitter jibes about the North West passage article, but we cannot print such charges on so excellent an individual and hope sincerely Mr Barrow will be as merci. ul as ourselves.

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