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Held with both hands his forehead, then her head Perhaps, ev'n now, along the moonlight sea, Drew smiling back, and kiss'd the tear he shed. It bends from the blue cloud, rememb'ring me. But late, to grief and hopeless love a prey,

Land of my Fathers, yet- yet forgive, She left his side, and wander'd far away.

That with thy deadly enemies I live. Now in this still and shelter'd glen that smild The tenderest ties (it boots not to relate) Beneath the crags of precipices wild,

Have bound me to their service and their fate; Wrapt in a stern yet sorrowful repose,

Yet whether on Peru's war-wasted plain, The Warrior half forgot his country's woes,- Or visiting these sacred shores again, Forgot how many, impotent to save,

Whate'er the struggles of this heart may be,
Shed their best blood upon a father's grave;

Land of my Fathers, it shall beat for thee !"
How many, torn from wife and children, pine
In the dark caverns of the hopeless mine,

The supposed appearance of the Never to see again the blessed morn

Genius of the Andes, which opens the Slaves in the lovely land where they were born; How many, at sad sun-set, with a tear,

second canto, is extremely well-conThe distant roar of sullen cannons hear,

ceived, and the imagery which disWhilst evening seems, as dies the sound, to throw A deadlier stiliness on a nation's woe!

misses the Spirit possesses great beauThe Chief is interrupted in his me

ty. The military preparations of Vallancholy musing by the call of his divia are described in the same style countrymen to arms, and their apply- of grandeur—in particular the waring to him as their leader. His ad- horse and dress of the general and

his dress to the sun is, we think, very


Lautaro. poetical, and the concluding lines are The sun ascended to meridian height,

And all the northern bastions shone in light; characterized by Mr Bowles' usual With hoarse acclaim the gong and trumpet rung, pathos.

The Moorish slaves aloft their cymbals swung,

When the proud victor, in triumphant state, The Mountain-chief essay'd his club to wield, Rode forth, in arms, through the port-cullis gate. And shook the dust indignant from the shield.

With neck high-arching, as he smote the ground, Then spoke :

And restless pawing to the trumpets' sound,-, “o Thou! that with thy lingʻring light

With mantling mane, o'er his broad shoulders Dost warm the world, till all is hush'd in night;

spread, I look upon thy parting beams, o Sun!

And nostrils blowing, and dilated red,And say, 'Ev'n thus my course is almost run.' The coal-black steed, in rich caparison

“When thou dost hide thy head, as in the grave, Far-trailing to the ground, went proudly on: And sink to glorious rest beneath the wave, Proudly he tramp'd, as conscious of his charge, Dost thou, majestic in repose, retire,

And turn'd around his eye-balls, bright and large, Below the deep, to unknown worlds of fire ?

And shook the frothy boss, as in disdain ; Yet, tho' thou sinkest, awful, in the main,

And toss'd the flakes, indignant, of his mane; The shadowy moon comes forth, and all the train And, with high-swelling veins, exulting press'd Of stars, that shine with soft and silent light,

Proudly against the barb his heaving breast. Making so beautiful the brow of night.

The fate of empires glowing in his thought, Thus, when I sleep within the narrow bed, Thus arm’d, the tented field Valdivia sought, The light of after-fame around shall spread; On the left side his poised shield he bore, The sons of distant Ocean, when they see

With quaint devices richly blazon’d o'er; The grass-green heap beneath the mountain tree,

Above the plumes, upon his helmet's cone, And hear the leafy boughs at evening wave, Castile's imperial crest illustrious shone; Shall pause and say, 'There sleep in dust the brave!

Blue in the wind th' escutcheon'd mantle flow'd “ All earthly hopes my lonely heart have fled !

O'er the chain'd mail, which tinkled as he rode. Stern Guecubu, angel of the dead,

The barred vizor rais'd, you might discern Who laughest when the brave in pangs expire, His clime-chang'd countenance, tho' pale, yet stern, Whose dwelling is beneath the central fire

And resolute as death, -whilst, in his eye Of yonder burning mountain ; who hast pass'd

Sat proud Assurance, Fame, and Victory. O'er my poor dwelling, and with one fell blast Lautaro, now in manhood's rising pride, Scatter'd my summer-leaves that cluster'd round, Rode, with a lance, attendant, at his side, And swept iny fairest blossoms to the ground; In Spanish mantle gracefully array'd: Angel of dire despair, O come not nigh,

Upon his brow a tuft of feathers play'd : Nor wave thy red wings o'er me where I lie; His glossy locks, with dark and mantling grace, But thou, o mild and gentle spirit, stand,

Shaded the noon-day sun-beams on his face. Angel of hope and peace, at my right hand, Though pass'd in tears the day-spring of his youth, (When blood-drops stagnate on my brow) and guide Valdivia lov'd his gratitude and truth: My pathless voyage o'er the unknown tide,

He, in Valdivia, own'd a nobler friend; To scenes of endless joy--to that fair isle,

Kind to protect, and mighty to defend. Where bow'rs of bliss, and soft savannahs smile;

So, on he rode: upon his youthful mien Where my forefathers oft the fight renew,

A mild but sad intelligence was seen: And Spain's black visionary steeds pursue;

Courage was on his open brow, yet Care Where, ceas'd the struggles of all human pain, Seem'd like a wand'ring shade, to linger there; I may behold thee-thee-my son, again."

And though his eye shone, as the eagle's, bright, The next image presented is the re

It beain'd with humid, melancholy light. pose of the Spanish general's army, In the exultation of the hour, Valand the reflections that employed him divia addresses the 'attendant youth, even in sleep, contrasted with the sad asking if he thought it possible that feelings of his page, Lautaro.

the Indians could withstand such an On the broad ocean, where the moonlight slept, army as was now before them. The Thoughtful he turn’d his waking eyes, and wept, following is the answer of Lautaro; And whilst the thronging forms of mem'ry start, Thus holds communion with his lonely heart: “ Forgive !"-the Youth replied, and check'd a Land of my Fathers, still I treacl your shore,

tear, And mourn the shade of hours that are no more; " The land where my forefathers sleep, is dear! Whilst night-airs, like remember'd voices, sweep, My native land !--this spot of blessed eartha, And murmur from the undulating deep.

The scene where I, and all I love, had birth Was it thy voice, my Father?-thou art dead- What gratitude fidelity can give, The green rush waves on thy forsaken bed. Is yours, my Lord !--you shielded-bade me live, Was it thy voice, my Sister?-gentle maid, When, in the eircuit of the world so wide, Thou too, perhaps, in the dark cave art laid; I had but one, one only friend beside. Perhaps, ev'n now, thy spirit sees me stand

I bow'd-resign'd to Fate; I kiss'd the hand, A homeless stranger in my native land;

Red with the best blood of my Father's land !



But mighty as thou art, Valdivia, know,

She sav'd my life and kindness, if not love, Though Cortez' desolating march laid low

Might sure in time the coldest bosom move The shrines of rich, voluptuous Mexico,

Mine was not cold-she lov'd to hear me sing, With carcasses, though proud Pizarro strew

And sometimes touch'd with playful hand the The Sun's imperial temple at Peru,

stringYet the rude dwellers of this land are brave,

And when I wak'd some melancholy strain, And the last spot they lose will be their grave!" She wept, and smild and bade me sing againThen first, when Valdivia turns So many a happy day, in this deep glen,

Far from the noise of life, and sounds of men, away in anger, and Lautaro retires

Was pass'd! Nay! father, the sad sequel hearfrom the scene, we are introduced to 'Twas now the leafy spring-time of the year

Ambition callid me': True, I knew, to part, the Missionary. The scenery, in the Would break her generous and her trusting heartmidst of which stands his oratory, She saw my look, and shuddered to behold.

True, I had vow'd-but now estrang'd and cold, again gives occasion for the exercise She would go with me-leave the lonely glade of that power of description, which Where she grew up, but my stern voice forbade

She hid her face and wept, -Go then away,' Mr Bowles possesses in a degree equal (Father, methinks, ev'n now I hear her say) to the best poets of his country. We

Go to thy distant land forget this tear

Forget these rocks--forget I once was dear. give a part which impressed us with Fly to the world, o'er the wide ocean

fly, the most lively pleasure.

And leave me unremember'd here to die!

Yet to my father should I all relate,
Just heard to trickle through a covert near, Death, instant death, would be a traitor's fate!'
And soothing, with perpetual lapse, the ear,
A fount, like rain-drops, filter'd thro' the stone -

Yet notwithstanding her pathetic
And, bright as amber, on the shallows shone.
Intent his fairy pastime to pursue,

remonstrances, ambition conquers love And, gem-like, hovering o'er the violets blue, -he leaves c her sorrows and the The humming-bird, here, its unceasing song

scene behind,”—and for this he craves
Heedlessly murmurd all the summer long,
And when the winter came, retir'd to rest, absolution from her father. Though
And from the myrtles hung its trembling nest. all Anselmo's admonition is equally
No sounds of a conflicting world were near;
The noise of ocean faintly met the ear,

excellent, we think these two lines
That seem'd, as sunk to rest the noon-tide blast,
But dying sounds of passions that were past;

all-expressive: Or closing anthems, when, far off, expire

« First by deep penitence the wrong atone, The lessening echoes of the distant choir.

Then absolution ask from God alone.
The meek and holy character of
Anselmo is amply expressed in the

The succeeding canto presents malines

ny sublime and terrific scenes. The There was no worldly feeling in his eye,

different appearance of the several InThe world to him “ was as a thing gone by." dian warriors, particularly Caupolican The lessons of piety and resignation

-their solemn invocation of their by which he instructs his young con- country-gods”--their denunciations vert Lautaro, and the relation of the of vengeance against the tyrants who tale of his misfortunes, are given with invade their rights,-is told in the that sweetness and simplicity which most forcible manner, and bear the the character demands, and which in- attention along with eager impetuosideed pervade the whole poem. ty during the continuance of these

The adopted daughter of the Mis- mysterious ceremonies, and examinasionary has become the wife of Lau- tion of the unfortunate Spanish captaro, which is the tie that binds him tive, who, as he tremblingly proto the Spaniards. Another personage

nounces the name of the hostile comis now introduced, and one, the no. mander, and casts the billet into the velty of which is extremely pleasing trench, excites the renewed rage of not that we mean to say that an in

the assembled avengers. constant lover is by any means new,


« Cast in the lot." but the mixture of gayety and melan

Again, with looks aghast, choly of warmth of heart, and insta- The captive in the trench a billet cast.

“ Pronounce his name who here pollutes the plain, bility of principle, forms the charm

The leader of the mailed hosts of Spain?" which envelopes Zarinel the minstrel.

Captive. He comes to Anselmo to relieve his * Valdivia /

At that name a sudden cry conscience by a confession of his cruel

Burst forth, and every lance was lifted high. an Indian maid,” who trust

Warrior. ed, and was by him deserted. This, " Valdivia! Earth upon the billet heap; it will be readily conjectured, was the

So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep !"

The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim, daughter of Atacapac, and sister of Accursed be his nation and his name.'" Lautaro, who found him in distress, Their appalling conference is interpitied and led him to her father's hut. rupted.

“The father spoke not:-by the pine-wood blaze, It ceas'd; when, bursting from the thickest wood,
The daughter stood and turn'd a cake of maize, With lifted axe, two gloomy warriors stood:
And then, as sudden shone the light, I saw

Wan in the midst, with dark and streaming hair,
Such features as no artist hand might draw. Blown by the winds upon her bosom bare,
Her form, her face, her symmetry, her air,-

A woman, faint from terror's wild alarms,
Father ! thy age must such recital spare

And folding a white infaat in her arms,

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on her pale looks, seen ghastler through the biaze. gayety, and with a mind at variance

“Save!” she exclaim'd, with harrow'd aspect wild; with itself, seeks the shore. “Oh, save my innocent-my helpless child !" As thus, with shadow stretching o'er the sand, Then fainting fell, as from death's instant stroke. He mus'd and wander'd on the winding strand,

At distance, toss'd upon the foaming tide, To the inquiries of the Chiefs from

A dark and floating substance he espied. whence they come, the answer is, that He stood, and where the eddying surges beat,

An Indian corse was roll'd beneath his feet: the ship in which the Spanish woman The hollow wave retir'd with sullen soundwas being wrecked, and the seamen The face of that sad corse was to the ground; having borne her and her child to

It seem'd a female, by the slender form;

He touch'd the hand-it was no longer warm; shore, they were attacked and mas- He turn'd its face-oh! God, that eye though dim,

Seem'd with its deadly glare as fix'd on him. sacred by the Indians, leaving these

How sunk his shudd'ring sense, how chang'd his hue, two helpless beings now brought there When poor Olola in that corse he knew! for the sacrifice. They are saved by His keen eye, like a startled eagle's, glanca

Lautaro, rushing from the rocks, advanc'd; the intercession of the Mountain- 'Tis she !-he knew her by a mark impress'd chief. This is the speech of Caupoli

From earliest infancy beneath her breast.

Oh, my poor sister! when all hopes were past can:

Of meeting, do we meet-thus meet-at last ?" White woman, we were free,

Then, full on Zarinel, as one amaz'd, When first thy brethren of the distant sea

With rising wrath and stern suspicion gaz'd; Came to our shores! White woman, theirs the guilt!

(For Zarinel still knelt upon the sand, Theirs, if the blood of innocence be spilt !

and to his forehead press'd the dead maid's hand.) Yet blood we seek not, though our arms oppose

Speak! whence art thou ? The hate of foreign and remorseless foes :

Pale Zarinel, his head Thou camest here a captive---so abide,

Upraising, answered,

" Peace is with the dead! Till the Great Spirit shall our cause decide." He spoke: the warriors of the night obey;

Him dost thou seek who injur'd thine and thee? And, ere the earliest streak of dawning day,

Here-strike the fell assassin-I am he! They led her from the scene of blood away.

“ Die !" he exclaim'd, and with convulsive start

Instant had plung'd the dagger in his heart, The Spanish woman is next repre- When the meek father, with his holy book, sented bound, and pale, and weeping Hetrembled-struck his brow-and, turning round,

And placid aspect, met his frenzied look,over her slumbering child, when a fea Flung the uplifted dagger to the ground. male voice resounds through the

Then murmurd—“ Father, Heav'n has heard thy

pray'rgloomy solitude, and an Indian maid But oh! the sister of my soul-lies there! appears, who, impelled by compas, Some earth upon her bones, whilst I go weep !"

The Christian's God has triumph'd! Father, heap sion, has been induced to visit, and

The seventh' canto is taken


with endeavour to relieve the captive; on hearing whose story, when she is told niards, till the final engagement, all

the warlike preparations of the Spathat the wretched mother was follow- which is conducted with great spirit ing a beloved husband, the tender recollections of the Indian are awakened, lowing is the energetic account of the

and dignity of expression. The foland finely shewn in her empassioned

decisive moment : exclamation.

With breathless expectation, on the height, '" Oh! did he love thee then ? let death betide, Lautaro watch'd the long and dubious fight: Yes, from this cavern I will be thy guide.

Pale and resign’d the meek man stood, and press'd Nay, do not shrink! from Caracalla's bay,

More close the holy image to his breast. Ev'n now, the Spaniards wind their march this way. Now nearer to the fight Lautaro drew, As late in yester eve I pac'd the shore,

When on the ground a Warrior met his view, I heard their signal-guns at distance roar.

Upon whose features Memory scem'd to trace Wilt thou not follow? He will shield thy child, A faint resemblance of his Father's face; The Christian's God,-through passes dark and wild O'er him a horseman, with collected might, He will direct thy way! Come, follow me,

Rais'd his uplifted sword, in act to smite, Oh, yet be lov’d, be happy, and he free!

When the Youth springing on, without a word, But ỉ, an outcast on my native plain,

Snatch'd from a soidier's wearied grasp the sword, The poor Olola ne'er shall smile again!"

And smote the horseman through the crest: a yell So guiding from the cave, when all was still, Of triumph burst, as to the ground he fell. And pointing to the farthest glimmering hill, -Lautaro shouted, “ On! brave brothers, on! The Indian led, till on Itata's side,

Scatter them, like the snow !-the day is won! The Spanish cnp and night-fires they descried: Lo, l! Lautaro,-Atacapac's son!. Then on the stranger's neck that wild maid fell, And said, " Thy own goils prosper thee!--Farewell!" The Indians rally inspired with

Canto the sixth. From the festivi- fresh courage, attack the enemy anew, ties of “the Castle Hall” Lautaro re- and in a few moments the fate of the tires to " wander by the moonlight Spaniards is decided. The shouts of sea,” his bosom torn with sad remem- victory ascend-Valdivia is made pribrance. A scene of great interest soner. Anselmo, too, is carried away there ensues between him and the captive, and Zarinel expiates by death unhappy Olola, whom at first he his injuries to Olola. knows not; but after she had fled, a The last canto records the fate of sudden thought flashes on his mind the devoted Valdivia, which Lautaro that he has beheld his sister.

is unable to prevent. The aged and Zarinel, whose minstrelsy, mean- mortally wounded Atacapac survives while, had delighted the revellers, but to know and embrace his son. now languid and weary from the past The Missionary is preserved, and, in Vol. VI.



the Spanish woman and her infant, o may it-(when the sons of future days
Lautaro finds his wife and child.

Shall hear our tale, and on the hilloc gaze,)
O may it teach, that charity should bind,

Where'er they roam, the brothers of mankind! The last duties are paid to the re- The time shall come, when wildest tribes shall hear mains of the Mountain-chief; and Thy voice, o Christ! and drop theslaughtring spear. such is Anselmo's concluding prayer :

“ Yet, we condemn not him who bravely stood, To seal his country's freedom with his blood;

And if, in after-times, a ruthless band
“Here, too," hecried,"mybones in peaceshallrest! Of fell invaders sweep my native land,-
Few years remain to me, and never more

May she, by Chili's stern example led,
Shall i behold, oh Spain! thy distant shore! Hurt back his thunder on the assailant's head;
Here lay my bones, that the same tree may wave Sustain'd by Freedom, strike th' avenging blow,
O'er the poor Christian's and the Indian's grave. And learn one virtue from her ancient foe!"



No. I.

It is the intention of Dr Chalmers to the misleading causes to which phi-
publish, quarterly, the successive chap- lanthropy is exposed, when it operates
ters of a work on the comparative ha- among a crowded assemblage of hu-
bitudes of a city and a country popula- man beings, fully understood, then
tion. The subject is one of mighty would it cease to be a paradox-why
importance, and we have no doubt there should either be a steady pro-
that broad lights will be streamed up- gress of wretchedness in our land, in
on it from his powerful and original the midst of its charitable institutions ;
mind, lifting up into general know- or a steady progress of profligacy, in
ledge truths that have long been lost the midst of its churches, and Sab-
sight of even by the wisest philanthro- bath schools, and manifold reclaiming
pists. We shall have much satisfac- societies.
tion in following Dr Chalmers through- The great and leading position
out his interesting inquiries and specu- which Dr Chalmers advances is this,
lations, and shall endeavour to lay be- that the same moral regimen which,
fore our readers a condensed view of under the parochial and ecclesiastical
the leading arguments of each Number system of Scotlar has been set up,
of his work. It is well observed by him, and with so much effect, in her coun-
in the preface to the first Number, try parishes, may, by a few simple and
that there is a great deal of philan- attainable processes, be introduced in,
tropy afloat in this our day. At no to the most crowded of her cities, and
period, perhaps, in the history of the with as signal and conspicuous an ef-
human mind, did a desire of doing fect on the whole habit and character
good so earnest, meet with a spirit of of their population—that the simple
inquiry so eager, after the best and relationship which obtains between a
likeliest methods of carrying the de- minister and his people in the former
sire into accomplishment. Amidst all situation, may be kept up with all the
that looks dark and menacing, in the purity and entireness of its influences
present exhibitions of society, this, at in the latter, and be equally available
least, must be acknowledged--that to the formation of a well conditioned
never was there a greater quantity of peasantry-in a word, that there is no
thought embarked on those specula- such dissimilarity between town and
tions which, whether with Christian, country, as to prevent the great na-
or merely economical writers, have the tional superiority of Scotland, in re-
one common object of promoting the spect of her well principled and well
worth and comfort of our species. It educated people, being just as obsery-
must be confessed, at the same time, able in Glasgow or Edinburgh, for
that much of this benevolence, and example, as it is in the most retired
more particularly, when it aims at of her districts, and these under the
some fulfilment, by a combination of most diligent proeess of moral and re-
many individuals, is rendered abortive ligious cultivation. So that, while
for want of a right direction. Were the profligacy which obtains in every

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Glasgow : Printed for Chalmers and Collins, 18, Wilson Street.

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crowded and concentrated mass of huś which they are mutually blind to the man beings, is looked upon by many · real cordialities and attractions which a philanthropist as one of those help- belong to each other, and a resent, less and irreclaimable distempers of ful feeling is apt to be fostered, either the body politic, for which there is no of disdain or defiance. To de, remedy—he maintains, that there are stroy all such unhappy feelings of anicertain practicable arrangements which, mosity or repugnance, no better plan under the blessing of God, will stay can be devised, than to multiply the this growing calamity, and would, by agents of Christianity, whose delight it the perseverance of a few years, land may be to go forth among the people, us in a purer and better generation. on no other errand than of pure good

1.--The first essential step towards will, and with no other ministrations the assimilation of the power and in- than those of respect and tenderness. fluence of religion, and the character Nothing, we think, can be more of its ministers, over the population of beautiful than the paragraph in which large towns, to that exercised in coun. Dr Chalmers winds up this part of try parishes, is a numerous and well- his argument. appointed agency. By dividing his 66 There is one lesson that we need not parish into small manageable dis teach, for experience has already taught it, tricts-and assigning one or more of and that is, the kindly influence which the his friends in some capacity or other mere presence of a human being has upon to each of them and vesting them his fellows. Let the attention you bestow with such a right either of superin- upon another be the genuine emanation of tendance or of inquiry, as will always to make it irresistible. The readiest way of

good will and there is only one thing more be found to be gratefully met by the finding access to a man's heart, is to go to

population and so raising as it were his house and there to perform the deed
à ready intermedium of communica, of kindness, or to acquit yourself of the
tion between himself and the inhabi- wonted and the looked-for acknowledg,
tants of his parish, a clergyman may at ment. By putting yourself under the roof
length attain an assimilation in point of a poor neighbour, you in a manner put
of result to a country parish, though yourself under his protection—you render
not in the means by which he arrived him for the time your superior--you throw
at it.
He can in his own person sured that it is a confidence which will al.

your reception on his generosity, and be asmaintain at least a pretty close and

most never fail you. If Christianity be the habitual intercourse with the more errand on which you move, it will open for remarkable cases ; and as for the moral you the door of every family ; and even the charm of cordial and Christian ac- profane and the profligate will come to requaintanceship, he car'spread it abroad cognise the worth of that principle which by deputation over that portion of the prompts the unwearied assiduity of your city which has been assigned to him. services. By every circuit which you make In this way an influence long unfelt amongst them, you will attain a higher in towns, may be speedily restored to Auence and in spite of all that has been

vantage-ground of moral and spiritual inthem, and they know nothing of this said of the ferocity of a city population, be department of our nature, who are

assured that, in your rounds of visitation, blind to the truth of the position you will meet with none of it, even among that out of the simple elements of at- the lowest receptacles of human worthlesstention, and advice, and civility, and

This is the home-walk in which you good-will, conveyed through the tene

earn, if not a proud, at least a peaceful poments of the poor, by men a little pularity—the popularity of the heart-the inore elevated in rank than themselves, greetings of men who, touched even by

your cheapest and easiest services of kinda far more purifying and even more

ness, have nothing to give but their wishes gracious operation can be made to de- of kindness back again; but in giving these scend upon them, than ever will be have crowned your pious attentions with achieved by any other of the ministra, the only popularity that is worth the aspirtions of charity.

ing after the popularity that is won in the Such arrangements as these are pe- bosom of families, and at the side of death. culiarly fitted to repair the disadvan

beds.” tages under which a city, purely com- II. A second most essential step tomercial, necessarily labours. In all wards the assimilation of a city and a such cities there is a mighty and un- country parish, is one simple and unfilled space interposed between the embarrassed relationship between the high and the low, in consequence of heritors and the kirk-session. Into


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