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And gives unto the world's slight view
Virtues and crimes alike untrue:
But when death's talisman is there,
Deceptions all must melt in air;
Then all we shew is plain and sooth,
And all our words are words of truth.
So 'twas with Charles:-to guilt resign'd,
His loves and passions, heart and mind,
Grew darker and more stain'd with sin,
As Guilt sway'd more his breast within:
And then, so false his heart reflected,
That crimes on crimos pass'd undetected,
And Conscience sear'd by long delay,
Spake not until his dying day.

That day was come :-Around his bed
Some few unwilling took their stand;
And fewer still a tear-drop shed

O'er the lost ruler of their land.
Oh! 'twas a sight both sad and dread,
To view that now uncrowned head,
Rack'd with vain Fantasy's controul,
Unruled by Reason's power his soul,
Disease and Pain around him flung,
Distress and Madness on his tongue,
Which thus in Passion's fits would wake,
Till Nature's ties in pity brake.

"Rivers of ice are round me flowing!

Transport me where the golden sun,
With noontide heat is ever glowing,
And his bright race is never done.-
I did not bid ye, slaves, embrace

My frozen limbs with Iceland snows;
But bear me bleeding from the chace,
Warm furs around my form to close.

O Heaven! I shiver,

And if thou wilt but hear my cry,
Oh! let not this keen agony
Around my frozen members quiver.
It is as marble to my heart!—
Now through my brain,
A thousand lightnings dart,
And yet I mourn in vain!

Ayc,-Now the genial warmth returns again;
But that return

Brings with it shafts of fire and scorching pain,

Oh God I bura!

Whence come those flames that round my couch are spreading?
Whence come those fiends that on my bed are treading?
Oh, Death! thy near approach my soul is dreading;
My guards there,-Ho!

Seize ye upon that Demon,-chain that Fiend,
I am a Monarch yet,-and to the end
I will be so!-

What forms are these whose glances shed
A pale yet fearful light on me?

Like lamps that watch beside the dead,
Their cold blue eyes appear to be.
No, they are living men; for there
Is Charles of France, the crowned heir

Of him, the Wise, who stands beside
His brother's form,--and men say died
By those slow poisons !-O my brain!
To madness wanders back again;
Both my elixirs might defy,

For if they drank, they did not die."

He ceased; and from a source unknown
Red flames burst out his couch around;
Then wilder horrors mark'd each groan.

And frantic grew each dying sound.
For none, though many a heart was brave,
Those fires could quench, the King could save;
Till Death had closed all mortal strife
With pain, with nature, and with life;
And gave the sign that all was o'er,

That Charles of Navarre breathed no more.

He fell, and round the regal tower

Where once he lived, where thus he died,
E'en in that dark and dreadful hour,
The SABLE Bow expanded wide!

It spread o'er all created things
That from the Palace ye descry;
And still appears when evil kings
Are,call'd into Eternity!



The Death of Charles the Bad. Charles the Second of Navarre died on the 1st of January, 1387, aged 56, after a disti rbed and evil reign of 38 years. Towards the latter end of his life, according to Froissart, he was accustomed to have his bed warmed with heated air, when once the sheets suddenly caught fire, and he was burned. Other historians give a different account of Charles's death. The appearance of the Black Rainbow is very rare in England, and the superstition connected with it in the text is almost equally so.

-Charles of France, the crowned heir

Of him the Wise.

Two of the many crimes charge! to Charles the Bad, were the attempts to destroy the Kings Charles V. and VI. of France, surnamed the Well-Beloved and the Wise, by slow poison. K.


Now what my love is proof hath made you know. THOUGH the doctrine of Craniology has gradually sunk into disrepute, and I might almost add into decay, which, a modern cynic proclaimed as another ology for the Blue Stocking Fair to rack their brains, and taik nonsense upon, yet no system of philosophy of the present time ever offered wider extent for speculative research, or produced more converts on it's first promulgation. Eurolled originally under it's banners, and still retaining some lurking predilection for it's theories, disarmed of the dangerous fallacies of Materialism and Fatalism, I trust I shall be excused


the allusion to my once favourite hobbyhorse in the following position. Nature, in the arrangement of the animal economy, has equally commanded and incited the sexes to encrease their kind, and multiply themselves upon earth:-She has, moreover, consistent with her bounteous providence, endowed them with that fond love and affection, which induces them to support, and watch over their offspring with anxious care and protecting tenderness. It is true, the exercise of them seems heightened or diminished in proportion to the physical strength and power of their

possessors: but, in reality, the difference exists in the means of support and defence with which Nature has respectively furnished them for no one can possibly imagine, that a less affection is experienced by the nightingale, who mourns in plaintive note the loss of her unfledged offspring, than by the lioness, who fights with savage ferocity in behalf of her helpless whelps. This natural affection, moreover, exists, whether called iato active exertion, or compelled to lie dormant for want of an object to employ it on. From this instinctive impulse of nature may be traced that false affection so generally manifested for dumb animals, by those persons who have no family of children upon whom they may lavish it, or no relative from whom at a future period they may expect a grateful return. Thence that care and solicitude to their wants, which from the aversion of some animals to receive, would, it might have been supposed, have convinced them they were acting in violation to all principles of nature, and that the Great Parent of all never designed that their affections should be so unprofitably bestowed. Many and great names, both in ancient and modern times, I am well aware can be quoted in defence of the practice. The fond indulgence displayed by the learned Johnson in the treatment of his favourite cat, Hodge, is well known; for whom, if Boswell's account be true, he was in the habit himself of buying oysters, apprehensive that the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor inoffensive animal. The pampered horse of Caligula, who was stabled in the most costly apartments of marble, and decked with the most valuable trappings and jewels the Roman empire could produce, is another instance of the same character. But these examples furnish no argument in support of the habit:-Folly becomes not wisdom by the numerical strength, or proud attainments, of it's votaries; and the custom, doubtless, were "more honoured in the breach, than in the observance." But my purport in this pa per is, more particularly, to shew the existence of this idle passion among that portion of my fair countrywomen, Seleped old maids. Among the ancients, but more especially the Grecians,matrimony was considered so highly honour Eur. Mag. Vol. 81, Jan, 1822.

able to the state and the individual, that laws were instituted for it's greater encouragement. The severity, indeed, of the Spartan enactments towards bachelors of a certain age was remarkable-He who had exceeded the limited time granted by their lawgiver, was compelled once every winter to run stark naked round the Forum, singing a ridiculous song, whose tendency heightened the shame, and apparently encreased the crime: they were likewise excluded, and forbidden to be present at those exercises, where young virgins contended naked. Another penalty was, that at a certain feast the women were allowed to buffet and bruise them with their fists, and otherwise maltreat them at their discretion. Thank heaven! this age of barbarism has long since passed away, and with it the exercise of such inhuman practices. Our ears are now safe from the heavy blows of disappointed dames, or the more tormenting pinches of amorous damsels. We can now look with perverse insensibility alike on the youthful glow of seventeen, or the sallow complexion of forty-five. Love need no longer be dwelling on our lips, or forcing it's way by compulsion to the heart. Deliberation may guide our choice, and free will sanction the election. But then, as every good has it's relative evil, so we find this advantage counterbalanced by the too numerous females of "single blessedness," who, from the want of a family to partake their love, and occupy their attention, are encircled by crowds of dumb pet favourites, in whom their sole affection seems centered. This I know by dear-hought experience, having one surviving maiden aunt, who, though verging fast on the respectable age of fifty-five, has never yet participated in the joys of matrimony, and to whom every year I dedicate six weeks of my life; not from any intention of legacy-hunting, but from a pure desire of contributing to her happiness, and breaking the dull monotony of her life. Her house, though not large, is adapted for comfort, which has long since been disregarded, by the introduction into her family of three favourite spaniels as her constant companions. At every corner, therefore, some obstruction presents itself, which is designed for the use of these dumb creatures; either mats


for their repose in the day-time, or tufted rugs, the work of her notability, for their nightly beds; baskets for the more inclement season; pans of water lightly tinged with the yellow roll of sulphur for their drink, or neat wedgwood ware for their meat, which is cut hot each day from the family joint in short, every thing that fancy can devise, or affection execute. These, indeed, have often caused "curses, not loud but deep," to escape my lips, when, hastening down stairs to our early meals, to preserve my reputation of punctuality, my foot has met in opposition with them, and laid me even with the objects of my misfortune. Time and custom has familiarized her to them, and she, therefore, moves along with perfect indifference. But this is not the only inconvenience I am subjected to, from this absurd predilection. Many a long winter's night, when my visit has taken place at that season of the year, I have sat shivering with cold at an awful distance from the fire; for my legs being unhappily rather long, I should have otherwise disturbed the slumbers of these basking favourites. At tea, again, I am roused from an easy arm-chair, to reach a swimming saucer of milk to "dear Flora," or

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gentle Prince," remembering the due etiquette that Flora is served first, from the preference usually given to the female sex:-and even here my catalogue of misery is not complete; for during the day I am harassed by these creatures' motions, and capricious whims. Whether reading aloud the pompous description, in her favourite paper the Morning Post, of the Marchioness of — -'s Conversazione, or turning over the entertaining pages of the last Scotch novel, down must go the admired column, or the beautiful picture of High

land manners is destroyed, by the necessary attendance upon their wishes. Should the weather prove unfavourable for her to venture out, she occasionally reminds me, during the intermission of the showers, that I must not omit my daily exercise; which ambiguously means, that her dear pets must take their accustomed walk. All these, and many more, miseries I endure during my visit; which are the more vexatious, as my worthy relative, in other respects, displays great talent, and sound knowledge. Such affection, besides being absurd and obnoxious, is repugnant to every principle of Nature. These animals are gifted with the powers of instinct, which require no human hand to direct; she has clothed them with a covering adapted to the alternation of the seasons, which needs not the additional aid of art. No person enjoys them more in their proper situation than myself; no sportsman feels a greater delight in the opening cry of a pack of hounds, or treads with more anxiety the stubble field behind a brace of staunch pointers. I am, besides, a zealous advocate for their kind treatment, as I consider inhumanity to dumb animals the certain indication of a bad disposition. But then confine them within their proper place; let not the drawingroom be converted into a dog-kennel, and your friends into whippers-in. Nothing is so revolting to good sense, or propriety. Human affections ought not to be so trifled with: they should be cherished for higher and legitimate objects. Every day's encreased intercourse with the world will convince us, that the numerous calls to which they are subject, should leave them unrestrained for a full, free, and active exertion.



Mount St. Michael, in Normandy, is surrounded by a quicksand, and bears upon it's summit an abbey within a fortress, which is still a secret state-prison.

LINGER, brief winter-sun, awhile,

On the lonely peak of St. Michael's pile!
For never where Bourbon's gardens smile
Have happier slaves or wiser met ;-
These sands that circle our prison-tower,

Are they falser than those the courtier treads?
Yon thicket where wolves and bandits cower,—
Is it darker than those his treason spreads?

If Fame and Fortune are in our debt,
The world will reckon, let us forget.

Why should we fight with the angry wave,
When soon it will waft us safe to shore?
Our ship from the rock we could not save,
But we feel the blow of that rock no more:
We are still the same gay gallant crew

That joyous fellowship held on board,
When the blandest breezes of summer blew,
And the riches of hope were with us stored-
Let them who scatter'd the precious freight
The wreck remember,-but we'll forget.

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