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short, however, until they became thoroughly amalgamated with the Saxons. Continuing, therefore, to be separated from the endless examples of Roman and Italian work, which were deluging France, Germany, and Italy, the English architects seem to have gone steadily on unwinding the clew, the first thread of which had been put into their hands by their Norman visitors. Thus it is we account for the comparative purity of the English Gothic, when riewed in juxtaposition with the Gothic of the Continent; and we hold, that the country which can brast of such an exquisite and pure example as York Minster, has a good claim to have its name prefixed to the style of which it possesses the masterpiece. If we were inclined to launch out into comparisons, or multiply lists, he could clearly prove to any one who had ever advanced beyond his architectural rudiments, that there does not exist, abroad, a single specimen which approaches in purity within a hundred miles of either York or Salisbury. The four styles, Norman, Early English, Decorated, and Perpendicular, in their pure, unmixed natures, are alone to be found in England-for Scotland, from its former close connexion with France, possesses few examples of Luch purity.

With regard to the merits of English Architecture, there can scarcely exist two opinions.

Founded upon principles completely opposed to those of the Grecian system, it possesses peculiar beauties of its own, which render it scarce less enchanting ; though it is probably matter of inexplicable enquiry, how the sensations produced bị the solemn, silent grandeur of a Grecian temple, and a delightful example of English Cathedral magnificence, where ornament and line run riot in all the endless variety of beauty, should be so nearly the same. and time permit, we think we could clearly prove, that ba style is better adapted than the English Gothic for sacred purposes, nor capable of being executed at so small a tist, to possess any thing like so marked a character.

And then she'd flirt with some grisly wretch

At least five cubits high ;-
Do you think I'll sell myself for this ?

By Jupiter ! coz, not I !
Besides, I don't know a woman, coz,

That has lately smitten me much;
For where, since you chose to get married yourself,

Shall I find another such ? -
They joke me perhaps with Miss Jamieson,

But that's a prodigious mistake;
'Tis all I can do, when I meet with her,

To keep myself awake.
Or perhaps they have seen me walking about

With that brisk little girl Miss Jones;
But she is the last who could bring me, coz,

Down to my marrow bones;
I like very well Miss Cunningham,

And I own she's the queen of dancers;
But all the world is aware that she

Is engaged to one of the Lancers.
I've been to the play with Miss Thomson thrice,

And that's a suspicious thing ;
I've stood a whole night by the instrument,

To hear Miss Wilson sing ;
I've gone to Craigmillar with Clara Grant,

To church with Matilda Donne;
But trust me, coz, tho' I've gone this length,

I'm not yet too far gone.
As for Miss Macleod, she's in India now,

With all the other Macleods,
And no doubt got the liver complaint,

And bilious lovers in crowds;
And if people think that I care a fig

For Miss Celestina Blue,
They surely don't know that she wears a wig,

Tho' luckily, coz, I do.
So you see the reports are false, sweet coz;

I'm a sturdy bachelor still;
And little stomach or wish have I

For a matrimonial pill;
Perhaps when your husband goes to heaven

In thirty years or so,
I may throw myself once more at your feet

With my crutch and my gouty toe.
But till then I shall never marry, coz,

For it is not my nature's law;
I'd as soon put my leg in a mantrap, coz,

Or my hand in a lobster's claw :
As for the sex, God bless them! coz,

They have always been kind to me; But it's safer far to walk by the shore Than to venture upon the sea.

H. G. B.

Did space

ORIGINAL POETRY.

A LETTER TO MY COUSIN. "And when they talk of him they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear."

SHAKSPEARE. You" have heard that I'm to be married," coz,

But I vow the report's not true;
I think I guess who told you, though,

It was Miss Celestina Blue ;-
She picks up all the idle talk

That is floating about the town,
Then hurries home to her writing-desk,

And sets it gravely down.
I should like to know to whom, dear coz,

I would tie myself for life;
For it's one thing, I guess, to be in love,

And another to take a wife ;-
I have loved at least a thousand times,

And may love a thousand more;
But catch me stepping as bridegroom in-

To a travelling carriage and four,
When I take a summer excursion, coz,

I start with my dog and gun;
Or I ramble out with my fishing-rod

Where the silver rivers run ;
But a wife would insist on a waiting-maid,

With a bandbox on every knee;
And whenever we came to a country inn,

They would order nothing but tea.
And no doubt whenever she took the pouts,
She'd tell me to my face,
That she had another lover once,

Whom she'd wish were in my place;

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

We understand that there is at press a volume by the late Rev. Archibald Gracie, containing specimens of the manner in which the services of the Presbyterian Church are conducted on sacerdotal and other solemn festivals, as well as on more ordinary occasions.

We understand that Mr George Buchanan has nearly completed, and will publish in a few days, his laborious work of Tables for converting the Weights and Measures hitherto in use in Scotland, into those of the Imperial Standard.

The 43d and 11th volumes of Constable's Miscellany are to contain Narratives of the most remarkable Conspiracies connected with European history, during the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries, by John Parker Lawson, M.A. author of the Life and Times of Archbishop Laud. We understand that the conspiracies of which Mr Lawson treats are-1. The assassination of James I. of Scotland in 14372. The death of James 111. of Scotland in 1488 (comprehending a brief history of his reign)-3. The conspiracy of John Lewis Fiesco

against Genoa in 1517-4. The intrigues of Don Carlos against his the wings; the two middle tail feathers are four inches in length, father, Philip II. of Spain, in 1567–5. The Raid of Ruthven, in 1582 very broad, and ending in a long thread ; the two dext are thirteen -6. The Gowrie Conspiracy in 1600–7. The Gunpowder Plot in inches in length, very broad in the middle, gradually tapering to 1601–8. The conspiracy of the Spaniards against Venice in 1618, both extremities, and somewhat sharp at the points ; from the middle (the plot of Otway's “ Venice Preserved")—9. The rise and fall of of the shafts of these last arise another long thread ; the remaining Masaniello, fisherman of Naples, in 1617–10. The Popish Plot in tail feathers are two inches and a quarter long. A remarkable peculi1678-11. The Ryehouse Plot in 1683.

arity of this bird is, that it seems to be in perfect health, yet it is We are glad to understand that the Amulet for 1830 bids fair to undergoing an almost perpetual change of plumage, as feathers drop excel any of its predecessors. Among the engravings will be the off nearly the whole year.—Mr Richardson next exhibited, and exDorty Wean, from a fine painting by our countryman Wilkie,-the plained the mode of using, an ingenious Orrery, invented by hiin English Cottage, by Mulready, a picture in the possession of the for the instruction of the blind. Several members of the Society King.--and the Crucifixion, after Martin, for the use of which last

bore iestimony to the great progress many of these unfortunate child. picture alone 180 guineas are to be paid. The literary contents of

ren had made in the science of Astronomy. The ihanks of the Son this volume will be also highly interesting;—the Ettrick Shepherd is ciety were voted him for the very interesting exhibitions, and explanaa contributor to a considerable extent.

tion given by him. Mr BUCKINGHAM.-We understand that Mr Buckingham, who

Theatrical Gossip.-Drury Lane closed for the season on Saturday is now actively engaged in directing public attention to the Goverti

last. Mr Cooper delivered an address, in the course of which he ment and Trade of India, lectured at London on Tuesday evening said, “We have produced, during the season, sixteen new dramatic last, is to be at Birmingham this day, at Leeds on the 29th, and at

pieces, all of which-two only excepted-have been honoured with Manchester on the 30th, at Liverpool on the 1st, at Glasgow on the

your approbation; among which, I am proud to say, you have par. Ath, and at Edinburgh on the 6th of July. The rapidity of his jour. ticularly distinguished the tragedy of Rienzi, the drama of Charles ney will not admit of his remaining more than a single night at any

XII., and the new opera of Musaniello. Through the kindness, assione of these places ; nevertheless he proposes to devote the evening duity, and punctuality of my fellow-labourers

, it has not been deces. of his stay, at each of the towns named, to the delivery of a public sary, during the forty weeks I have been honoured with the managelecture, embracing new and additional matter on the subject of the

ment of this Theatre, to make one apology-nor has there been one India monopoly, and embodying the principal facts and arguments change of performance from that which was advertised in the bilis on which he invites the support of all the mercantile and manufac

of the day. I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that this circumstance turing interests of the kingdom to his public labours in their cause.

is unparalleled in the annals of the English drama." The Theatre His Majesty's ministers having now solemnly pledged themselves to

is to be re-opened on the 1st of October.-The Haymarket has comadvise a recommendation from the throne for an early enquiry into

menced its summer season with a piece by Poole-pot Dr Poole the whole question, the subject becomes one of great national inte

called “Lodgings for Single Gentlemen," which has been entirely rest, and as such is entitled to the serious attention of men of all

successful.-The English Opera House, under the management of parties in the kingdom.

Arnold, is to open this evening. Among the company are, Sapio, GRECIAN WILLIAMS-By the death of Mr H. W. Williams, which Thorne, Keeley, Wrench, Bensons Hill

, G. Penton, Miss Kelly, Miss took place on the 19th inst., this country has lost one of its most

Goward, Miss Cawse, Madame Cellini, &c.—De Begnis has taken the eminent artists, and the numerous circle of his acquaintance one of Dublin Theatre for October next, where he is to play Italian operas. its most valued members. Mr Williams has identified his name with -There is now in Paris an Italian, a German, an English, and a Greece ; and so long as that country retains her glorious associations Spanish Company. Charles Kemble and Miss Smithson are to be the will his works be valued, and his name remembered with honour.

stars in the English Company.- Caradori is now at Liverprol, and is ROYAL PAYSICAL Society, 23 JUNE 1829.*-Captain Brown Performing Polly to Miss Graddon's Captain Macheath! The pretty gave an account of the habits and changes of plumage of the Para

little piece of “* Aloyse,” which was so successful here, is now per. dise Bunting-the Emberiza Paradisæa-or Widah bird of Africa ; forming in Liverpool.— The Theatre Royal here closed on Saturday illustrated by drawings of its different garbs, from a living specimen, last. Caradori played Rosetta in “Love in a Village,” in a style the now in the possession of Sir Patrick Walker at Drumsheugh. This

most enchanting. The house was crowded ; and, when the curtain remarkable bird affords a useful lesson to the naturalist, by showing fell, there was a general call for Caradori, which, however, was not how guarded he should be in not at all times depending on the co- complied with. When the manager afterwards made his appearance louring of birds as a true specific character ; or even hastily con- in the farce of “ Simpson & Co.,” he was received with some disapsidering a modification in the shape and character of the plumage, probation in consequence, upon which he came forward and said, as indicating a difference of species. These, no doubt, are of much “Disapprobation from an Edinburgh audience is so unusual in my service in many instances, but do not hold as a universal criterion.

case, that I trust you will excuse my asking in what I have offended? An appropriate motto for all naturalists would be,-“ MULTIPLY NOT

If my presence has been previously required, your wishes were not Species." Most birds undergo a considerable change in their colour communicated to me, nor could I have had the honour of presenting and markiness from the young to the adult state; and many also myself before you, being engaged in changing my dress for the chadiffer materially in the colour of the summer and winter plumage; racter in which I now appear. If, ladies and gentlemen, it was exbut few, indeed, so great a transformation as the Paradise Bunting: pected that I should address you on this occasion, I beg leave to state, as, in its summer and winter dress, it is so extremely different, as not that it has never been the custom to do so but on the final terminato be recognisable as the same species. Captain Brown distinguished tion of our season in October. Indeed, had it been otherwise, I these states of change by the summer and winter plumage, agreeably would much rather have reclined addressing you this evening. On to the time at which these changes take place in this country; al- many former occasions you have been most liberal in your support though he was of opinion, from analogy, that the elegant garb of of this establishment, and I feel reluctant to annoy you with any winter was its spring dress in its native haunts, as it is well known to

statement of our reverses. October yet remains to us; and I hope, all observers of nature, that the plumage of birds displays a higher that on the termination of the engagements we have made for that state of lustre during the season of love. This bird seems, at period, I shall be enabled to report more favourably of the season present, to be in its complete summer dress; and in shape, colour, than I could possibly do at present." and markings, is not unlike the common Bunting; its bill is,

LAST SATURDAY'S PERFORMANCE.-June 20. however, stronger, and of a lead colour; when it first changes

Love in a Village, & Simpson and Co. from its winter state, its colour is pale ash, but gradually reddens to the colour of wood-brown (of the Wernerian nomencla. ture,) with black patches over different parts of its body, and a stripe

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS. of black from the bill to the pape of the neck, on each side, close

The Communication from St Andrew's has been received, and over the eyes, and a double longitudinal row of spots of the same

will appear in our next.-The Essay on “ Dreams," we are afraid, colour on the crown of the head : The auricles are also black: The greater wing-coverts, primories, secondaries testials, and tail-coverts, Aberdeen, that our desire to give permanency to our advertisements,

we cannot find room for.–We have to inform “A Subscriber" in are all black in the centre, edged with wood brown; the belly and in justice to those who favour us with them, makes it impossible for thighs are white, and the legs pale skin colour, which they preserve the whole year; the tail an inch and a half long. In its perfect his letter been post-paid.

us to comply with his suggestion. We should have been glad had winter plumage, the head, chin, throat, wings, and tail, are of a

The verses by “ E. A. R.," and by "A. L.” of Brechin, indicate deep glossy black; the lower part of the neck is of a bright orpament considerable talent. The contributions with which we have been fa orange; the breast of a full and brilliant burnt sienna colour; the thighs and belly white, inclining to pale orange as they approach _" E. A."-and“ Edwin," will not suit us.--" My Native Caledo

voured by “ C. W."-" Therma"_" V."-"E. S.”_" P. A. M. D." * We are happy to mention, that an able naturalist has underta- nia,” and “ The Spartan Mother to her dead Son," are in the same ken to furnish us with accurate reports of the proceedings of various predica ment, though the former, in particular, has a good deal of scientific bodies in Edinburgh, to which we shall henceforth regular. merit.— The Verses from Selkirk are under consideration. Jy allot a small portion of our space, -ED. LIT. JOUR.

" King Edward's Dream" lies for the Author at the Publishers.

THE

EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL;

OR,

WEEKLY REGISTER OF CRITICISM AND BELLES LETTRES.

No. 34.
SATURDAY, JULY 4, 1829.

PRICE 6d.
LITERARY CRITICISM.

The horrors of my endless fate

Flash'd on my soul and shook my frame ;

They scorch'd my breast as with a flame THE POET SHELLEY-HIS UNPUBLISHED WORK,

Of unextinguishable fire; * THE WANDERING JEW."

An exquisitely torturing pain We resume with much pleasure our analysis of this Of frenzying anguish fired my brain.” truly interesting poem.

We have already given some account of the two first In the pages which succeed this fine passage, Paulo Cantos. The third is occupied with a retrospective view goes on to describe at some length the misery he suffered, of the hero's fortunes and wanderings, which he relates not only from the consciousness that he lay under the to his bride Rosa, and the noble Italian Victorio. We curse of the Almighty, but from the knowledge that it look upon the following passage, with which he com- was impossible for him ever to find refuge from his sufmences his narrative, as worthy of the most attentive pe- ferings in death. Years and generations pass away,_all risal, being peculiarly striking, both on account of its own

around him changes,-new forms, and customs, and gointrinsic merits, and in reference to the tenets subsequent- vernments, arise, -he alone is strange, weary, and hopely disseminated by its author :

less. His excited feelings almost amount to madness, and

induce him to seek for death in every hideous shape. "How can I paint that dreadful day, That time of terror and dismay,

There is a great deal of power in the passage which we

subjoin : When, for our sins, a Saviour died, And the meek Lamb was crucified !

“ Rack'd by the tortures of the mind, 'Twas on that day, as borne along

How have I long'd to plunge beneath To slaughter by the insulting throng,

The mansions of repelling death! Infuriate for Deicide,

And strove that resting place to find I mock'd our Saviour, and I cried,

Where earthly sorrows cease. 'Go! go!' Ah! I will go,' he said,

Oft, when the tempest-fiends engaged, Where scenes of endless bliss invite,

And the warring winds tumultuous raged, To the blest regions of the light ;

Confounding skies with seas,
I go-but thou shalt here remain,

Then would I rush to the towering height
Nor see thy dying day

Of the gigantic Teneriffe,
Till I return again.'

Or some precipitous cliff,
E'en now, by horror traced, I see

All in the dead of the silent night.
His perforated feet and hands;
The madden'd crowd around him stands,

“I have cast myself from the mountain's height, Pierces his side the ruffian spear,

Above was day—below was night; Big rolls the bitter anguish'd tear ;

The substantial clouds that lower'd beneath Hark that deep groan! He dies, he dies !

Bore my detested form ; And breathes, in death's last agonies,

They whirl'd it above the volcanic breath, Forgiveness to his enemies !

And the meteors of the storm ; Then was the noonday glory clouded,

The torrents of electric flame The sun in pitchy darkness shrouded;

Scorch'd to a cinder my fated frame. Then were strange forms through the darkness Hark to the thunder's awful crashgleaming,

Hark to the midnight lightning's hiss ! And the red orb of night on Jerusalem beaming,

At length was heard a sullen dash, Which faintly, with ensanguined light,

Which made the hollow rocks around Dispersed the thickening shades of night;

Rebellow to the awful sound;
Convulsed, all nature shook with fear,

The yawning ocean opening wide,
As if the very end was near ;

Received me in its vast abyss,
Earth to her centre trembled ;

And whelm'd me in its foaming tide.
Rent in twain was the temple's vail,

Though my astounded senses fled,
The graves gave up their dead;

Yet did the spark of life remain ;
Whilst ghosts and spirits, ghastly pale,

Then the wild surges of the main
Glared hideous on the sight,

Dash'd and left me on the rocky shore.
Seen through the dark and
lurid air,

Oh! would that I had waked no more!
As fiends array'd in light,

Vain wish! I lived again to feel
Threw on the scene a frightful glare,

Torments more fierce than those of hell!
And, howling, shriek'd with hideous yello

A tide of keener pain to roll,
They shriek'd in joy, for a Saviour fell!

And the bruises to enter my inmost soul.
'Twas then I felt the Almighty's ire;
Then full on my remembrance came

“ I cast myself in Etna's womb,
Those words despised, alas ! too late !

If haply I might meet my doom

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In torrents of electric flame;

Finding that Heaven would not interfere to shorten Thrice happy had I found a grave

his probation, and having made himself familiar with all 'Mid fierce combustion's tumults dire,

the secret arts of necromancy, he resolves to call the 'Mid oceans of volcanic fire,

powers of the lower world to his aid, and is more than Which whirl’d me in their sulphurous wave, once on the very point of selling his soul to purchase

And scorch'd to a cinder my hated frame, the happiness of death. Upon one occasion the Prince Parch'd up the blood within my veins,

of Darkness appeared to him after the following manAnd rack'd my breast with damning pains;

ner : Then hurl'd me from the mountain's entrails dread.

“ The winds had ceased—a thick dark smoke With what unutterable woe

From beneath the pavement broke; Even now I feel this bosom glow

Around ambrosial perfumes breathe I burn-I melt with fervent heat

A fragrance, grateful to the sense, Again life's pulses wildly beat

And bliss, past utterance, dispense. What endless throbbing pangs I live to feel !

The heavy mists, encircling, wreath, The elements respect their Maker's seal,

Disperse, and gradually unfold That seal deep printed on my fated head.

A youthful female form ;—she rode

Upon a rosy-tinted cloud ; “ Still like the scathed pine-tree's height,

Bright stream'd her flowing locks of gold ;
Braving the tempests of the night

She shone with radiant lustre bright,
Have I 'scaped the bickering fire.

And blazed with strange and dazzling light;
Like the scathed pine which a monument stands

A diamond coronet deck'd her brow,
Of faded grandeur, which the brands

Bloom'd on her cheek a vermeil glow;
Of the tempest-shaken air

The terrors of her fiery eye
Have riven on the desolate heath,

Pour'd forth insufferable day,
Yet it stands majestic even in death,

And shed a wildly lurid ray.
And rears its wild form there.

A smile upon her features play'd,
Thus have I 'scaped the ocean's roar,

But there, too, sate pourtray'd The red-hot bolt from God's right hand,

The inventive malice of a soul
The flaming midnight meteor brand,

Where wild demoniac passions roll ;
And Etna's flames of bickering fire.

Despair and torment on her brow
Thus am I doom'd by fate to stand,

Had mark'd a melancholy woe
A monument of the Eternal's ire;

In dark and deepen'd shade.
Nor can this being pass away,

Under those hypocritic smiles, Till time shall be no more."

Deceitful as the serpent's wiles, In a note, Shelley acknowledges that many of the ideas Her hate and malice were conceald; in the above passage were suggested to him by a German

Whilst on her guilt-confessing face, author, who has written upon the same subject. It will be Conscience, the strongly printed trace recollected by the readers of “ Queen Mab,” that he has Of agony betray'd, casually introduced Ahasuerus, or the Wandering Jew, in

And all the fallen angel stood reveal'd. a very sublime manner, in that poem, and that he there She held a poniard in her hand, also acknowledges his obligations to the same German The point was tinged by the lightning's brand; author, and quotes a part of his work, different, however,

In her left a scroll she bore, from that to which he alludes in the volume before us,

Crimson'd deep with human gore; Death being the predominant thought in the mind of And, as above my head she stood, Paulo, as well as his great aim and object, the following Bade me smear it with my blood. incident is finely introduced :

She said, that then it was my doom

That every earthly pang should cease ; “ Once a funeral met my aching sight,

The evening of my mortal woe It blasted my eyes at the dead of night,

Would close beneath the yawning tomb; When the sightless fiends of the tempests rave,

And, lull'd into the arms of death, And hell-birds howl o'er the storm-blacken'd wave.

I should resign my labouring breath; Nought was seen, save at fits, but the meteor's glare,

And in the sightless realms below
And the lightnings of God painting hell on the air ;

Enjoy an endless reign of peace.
Nought was heard save the thunder's wild voice in the sky, She ceased—oh, God, I thank thy grace,
And strange birds who, shrieking, fed dismally by.

Which bade me spurn the deadly scroll ;
"Twas then from my head my drench'd hair that I tore, Uncertain for a while I stood-
And bid my vain dagger's point drink my life's gore; The dagger's point was in my blood.
'Twas then I fell on the ensanguined earth,

Even now I bleed -I bleed ! And cursed the mother who gave me birth!

When suddenly what horrors flew, My madden'd brain could bear no more

Quick as the lightnings through my frame; Hark! the chilling whirlwind's roar;

Flash'd on my mind the infernal deed, The spirits of the tombless dead

The deed which would condemn my soul Flit around my fated head,

To torments of eternal fame. Howl horror and destruction round,

Drops colder than the cavern dew As they quaff my blood that stains the ground,

Quick coursed each other down my face, And shriek amid their deadly stave,

I labour'd for my breath ; Never shalt thou find the grave !

At length I cried, “ Avaunt! thou fiend of Hell, Ever shall thy fated soul

Avaunt! thou minister of death!' In life's protracted torments roll,

I cast the volume on the ground, Till, in latest ruin hurld,

Loud shriek'd the fiend with piercing yell, And fate's destruction, sinks the world!

And more than mortal laughter peal'd around. Till the dead arise from the yawning ground,

The scatter'd fragments of the storm To meet their Maker's last decree,

Floated along the Demon's form, Till angels of vengeance flit around,

Dilating till it touch'd the sky; And loud yelling demons seize on thee !""

The clouds that rollid athwart his eye,

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Reveal'd by its terrific ray,

It scarcely might be call'd a sound,
Brilliant as the noontide day,

For stillness yet was there,
Gleam'd with a lurid fire;

Save when the roar of the waters below
Red lightnings darted around his head,

Was wafted by fits to the mountain's brow.
Thunders hoarse as the groans of the dead,

Here for a while Victorio stood
Pronounced their Maker's ire;

Suspended on the yawning Hood,
A whirlwind rush'd impetuous by,

And gazed upon the gulf beneath.
Chaos of horror fill'd the sky;

No apprehension paled his cheek,
I sunk convulsed with awe and dread.

No sighs from his torn bosom break,
When I waked the storm was fled,

No terror dimm'd his eye.
But sounds unboly met my ear,

• Welcome, thrice welcome, friendly death,' And fiends of hell were flitting near.”

In desperate harrowing tone he cried,

• Receive me, ocean, to your breast, Having so far gained a victory over himself and his

Hush this ungovernable tide, tempters, he contrived to drag on a wretched existence for

This troubled sea to rest. sixteen hundred years, about the expiration of which

Thus do I bury all my griefperiod he had met with Rosa, and in her deep confiding

This plunge shall give my soul relief, affection found a temporary solace for his griefs. His

This plunge into eternity!' narrative and the third canto conclude together.

I see him now about to spring The fourth canto opens in a strain of truly elevated

Into the watery grave: morality and piety, which shows how much of good there

Hark! the death angel flaps his wing must always have been at Shelley's heart :

O'er the blacken'd wave. “ Ah! why does man, whom God has sent

Hark! the night-raven shrieks on high As the Creation's ornament,

To the breeze which passes on ; Who stands amid his works confest

Clouds o'ershade the moonlight skyThe first—the noblest and the best ;

The deadly work is almost done Whose vast-whose comprehensive eye,

When a soft and silver sound, Is bounded only by the sky,

Softer than the fairy song, O'erlook the charms which Nature yields,

Which floats at midnight hour along The garniture of woods and fields,

The daisy-spangled ground, The sun's all vivifying light,

Was borne upon the wind's soft swell. The glory of the moon by night,

Victorio started—'twas the knell And to himself alone a foe,

Of some departed soul ; Forget from whom these blessings flow?

Now on the pinion of the blast, And is there not in friendship's eye,

Which o'er the craggy mountain past, Beaming with tender sympathy,

The lengthen'd murmurs rollAn antidote to every woe,

Till lost in ether, dies away And cannot woman's love bestow

The plaintive, melancholy lay. An heav'nly paradise below ?

'Tis said congenial sounds have power Such joys as these to man are given,

To dissipate the mists that lower And yet you dare to rail at Heaven,

Upon the wretch's browVainly oppose the Almighty Cause,

To still the maddening passions' warTransgress His universal laws,

To calm the mind's impetuous jarForfeit the pleasures that await

To turn the tide of woe. The virtuous in this mortal state,

Victorio shudder'd with affright, Question the goodness of the Power on high,

Swam o'er his eyes thick mists of night; In misery live, despairing die.

Even now he was about to sink What then is man, how few his days,

Into the ocean's yawning womb, And heighten'd by what transient rays,

But that the branches of an oak, Made up of plans of happiness,

Which, riven by the lightning's stroke, Of visionary schemes of bliss,

O'erhung the precipice's brink, The varying passions of his mind

Preserved him from the billowy tomb; Inconstant, varying as the wind,

Quick throbb'd his pulse with feverish heat, Now hush'd to apathetic rest,

He wildly started on his feet, Now tempested with storms his breast,

And rush'd from the mountain's height." Now with the fluctuating tide

Thus diverted from his purpose, his passion for Rosa Sunk low in meanness, swoln with pride,

retains as fierce a hold of his bosom as ever. Before he Thoughtless, or overwhelm'd with care,

reaches his own castle, the Witch of the Alps presents Hoping, or tortured by despair !"

herself before him, and promises him the accomplishment Victorio is now brought more prominently into notice. of his desires provided he consents to surrender his soul It appears that he has conceived an unlawful passion for to her. Victorio agrees; and the Witch, having led him Rosa, and his mind, tempest-tost between his duty to his to her cell, pronounces friend, and his burning

anxiety to possess Rosa, at what- “Some maddening rhyme that wakes the dead ;" ever cost, is driven almost to distraction. In a fit of de- and after an incantation scene of considerable length, the spair he determines on committing suicide. The follow- whole of which is exceedingly powerful, Victorio receives ing passage is a noble one :

a drug from the hand of a fiend, which he is ordered to “ The precipice's battled height

mingle with Paulo's wine, whose death will be the certain Was dimly seen through the mists of night,

consequence. The drug is infused, but the wine is drunk As Victorio moved along.

by Rosa instead of Paulo, who is thus lost to both her At length he reach'd its summit dread,

lovers. What becomes of Victorio we are not told; but The night-wind whistled round his head,

the poem concludes with these lines. It is Paulo who is A wild funereal song.

supposed to speak : A dying cadence swept around

" " Lies she there for the worm to devour, Upon the waste of air,

Lies she there till the judgment hour,

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