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more complete than the latter. When he kills Polonius, he is excited but not mad.

For the clue to his character I accept Coleridge's criticism as in the main correct; Goethe's, great as is the stimulus it has given to Shakesperian criticism, falls short of the truth. (See Coleridge, Literary Remains, His notes on the play are noble examples of what a commentary should be).

vol. II. p. 205.

Coleridge well remarks of this last act that Shakespeare seems to mean all Hamlet's character to be brought together before his final disappearance from the scene: his meditative excess, (in the gravedigging,) his yielding to passion with Laertes, his love for Ophelia blazing out, his tendency to generalize on all occasions (in the dialogue with Horatio), his fine gentlemanly manners (with Osric), and his and Shakespeare's own fondness for presentiment.

He was likely, had he been put on,

To have proved most royally.

THE SONG OF THE PIPE.

FROM THE MASNAVÍ OF MAULAVÍ RUMÍ.

List to the reed that now with gentle strains
Of separations from its home complains:

Down where the waving rushes grow
I murmured with the passing blast,
And ever in my notes of woe

There live the echoes of the past.

My breast is pierced with sorrow's dart
That I my piercing wail may raise,
Ah me! The lone and widowed heart
Must ever weep for byegone days.

My voice is heard in every throng
Where mourners weep or guests rejoice,
And men interpret still my song

In concert with their passion's voice.

Though plainly cometh forth my wail
'Tis never bared to mortal ken;
As soul from body hath no veil,
Yet is the soul unseen of men.

Not simple airs my lips expire

But blasts that carry death or life,
That blow from love's consuming fire,
That rage with love's tempestuous strife.

I soothe the absent lover's pain,
The jealous suitor's breast I move,
At once the antidote and bane
I favour and I conquer love.

A WANDERING EAGLET.

By the Author of "Our College Friends," &c.

FLIGHT THE SECOND.-ACROSS BELGIUM.

Valentine. Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:.....
I rather would entreat thy company

Proteus.

To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,

Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.....
Think on thy Proteus when thou, haply, seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:

Wish me partaker in thy happiness,

When thou dost meet good hap: and in thy danger,

If ever danger do environ thee,

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers."

Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I., Sc. 1.

PRELUDIUM.

Idly dreaming, while the College sparrows twittered,
(Long before Youth lost her lively tune),

Turned I from the desk, with Problems littered,
In the latest sunny eve of June;

Said I, "Grinding here, methinks, no longer
Is it good to wait and to repine:

Soon may health be won, and hope grow stronger,
If I start to-morrow Up the Rhine!'

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"Doubtless, few amusements are sublimer,
Than to lie from morn to dewy eve

On some castled steep, and quaff Hochheimer,
Or, from legends old, new ballads weave:
Singing to one's self, in dreamy pleasure,
Gazing on the sky or trellised vine;

While beneath, fit burden to the measure,

Flows the lordly rustling of the Rhine.
VOL. VI.

Q

"Vainly come forebodings of mischances,
Of der Zollamt, and those million ills
That make inroad on our small finances-

Kellners, Couriers, and Gasthof bills.
Gog-Magogs I leave, for Switzer mountains;
All unmarked by Buttress, let me dine:
I'm athirst for Baierish-beer and fountains,
And a long, long ramble up the Rhine."

- § I.

FROM DOVER TO OSTEND: A SKETCH IN
WATER-COLOURS.

IGHT-a breathless night in July, with the stars almost hidden by the lingering twilight. Sounds of sailors swearing, dogs barking, ropes flapping, and heavy luggage being tumbled down the hold. On deck is a snug corner, wherein is gathered the suite of Miladi Serenity, a group of couriers and bonnes. They are at liberty to enjoy a gossip and the night breeze; the ladies having retreated to their berths before the paddle-wheels began to move. Some bright eyes and cigar-ends continue to sparkle, long after Dover lights have faded in the distance. Then St. Something, a tall portly courier, with bushy whiskers adorning his good-humoured face, becomes quite chatty as he fastens on his wallet-purse, to look professional. His companion, Louis, tries to appear forgetful of a fear haunting him that, as usual, he is to be sea-sick.

Half an hour has passed. Already the wind has *risen, blowing coldly. Louis has disappeared, somewhere to leeward, and is only audible at intervals. His interjections are not cheerful. St. Something smokes incessantly, and offers brandy to every one. Owing to brandy, tobacco-smoke, and sea-sickness, the log of Louis becomes defective at this point. But in the grey of morning we approach a flat coast-line, and are informed that yonder small dingy nest of bathing coaches is Ostend.

From out his carriage, on the deck, steps Lord Qualmsbury, in his poncho, curling his moustache with a playful pretence of not having been at all unwell. His companion, who follows him presently, feels too much dispirited to attempt any such vain show. The world seems, to him, made up of dirty water, dirty wood, dirty sand, and dirty weather. Soon my Lady Serenity quits her cabin, a majestic blonde, with her grandeur worn easily on her. Next come the two fair daughters, who must be very charming when seen to more advantage, sickness having spoilt neither their looks nor temper. By this time Louis is in universal requisition, and the ladies'-maids become meekly inaudible. St. Something has to take sole charge of 'Fid.' But Fid objects to the foreign sailors who come on board-knowing their habit of promiscuous feeding, and not liking the admiring gaze which they cast on his plumpness. As the tide is stated to be unfavourable for landing, two sluggish barges take us to shore, at two francs a-head. A study for any painter was St. Something's face, when about to be left on board in charge of the packages, after resigning Fid to his fair owners. Nevertheless, in divers languages, all mis-pronounced and mingled together, he hurries the sailors. Somehow the heavy luggage is all stowed away in the boats, and very slowly we proceed towards the harbour. So slowly, that by the time we have arrived, and the ladies have ascended the awkward ladder, our lumbering steamboat has come alongside. We might as well have stayed on board and saved the landing-money. But foreign shores thus receive us, absit omen! with a little bit of jobbery.

§ II.

THE SPECTRE OF BRUGES.

Cheerful is the country near Bruges; rich level pasture-land, and broad canals with picturesque boats. After flinging his knapsack into the hotel omnibus, the

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