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pense the Crown vassals incurred in being compelled partly to support the officers of the court of Common Pleas.

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said Rycliffe, and now I constitute thee lord paramount | his presence had ceased, the warden again knelt, as
of this habitation, to go and come, fetch and carry, at the began the solemn and beautiful service of the Church
bidding of this pair, thy master and mistress."
England. With him knelt youth and beauty, old a
Timothy grinned, and cried, "Well, I shouldna' wish and ugliness, the soul which had never before quaile
to sarve a nicer couple. Marry, were it na' fa' th' plaguy and the body which, until now, had never felt diseas
plague, I should e'en be contented to leave Giles Philpot's In humbleness of spirit, and with softened hearts, did th
sarvice, and tak up my station here."
congregation utter the responses to the minister; an
many a bright eye was filled with tears, and many
blooming cheek grew pale, as with an earnest and mour
ful voice the venerable minister uttered the words, “Fro
plague, pestilence, and famine, Good Lord, deliver us
Thousands of voices uttered the responses; thousands
voices re echoed through the sacred house of God; the
sands of sorrowful hearts heaved, as with truth and sinc
rity; the whole of the inhabitants of Manchester cried
"From plague, pestilence, and famine, Good Lord, d
liver us.'

Now, bestir thee then," cried Rycliffe, "and attend
us to the church whither we now go." Rycliffe then in
formed Fitzosborne and Alice of the meeting in the church,
and his determination to go thither."" And we will go,"
said Alice, rising from her seat, "and we will go and
mingle our prayers with the assembled congregation.
Perchance the supplication of the people may turn away
Heaven's wrath from this plague-stricken town."
"Perchance so," muttered Rycliffe; "but let us away,
ere the prayers begin."

Section fifth.-For the better administration of justice, the King grants that no man shall be made Justice, Sheriff, Constable, or Bailiff, unless he is sufficiently versed in the law; that no bailiff shall, on his own assertion, and without witnesses, put a man in his law; and, that as the itinerant justices made their progresses at very uncertain periods, two justices shall be sent into every county four times a year-who, with the aid of four Knights shall hold Assizes of Darien Presentment, Mort d'Ancester, and Novel Desseisin. These are useful provisions; but they only rectify abuses;-they do not add to the liberties of the subject. With the exception of the clauses respecting the two justices and four knights, it only places the administration of justice on the same basis as it was in the days of the Conqueror: and even the jurisdiction of the Fitzosborne and Alice rose, and the latter having thrown new tribunal extended only to the vassals of the Crown-over her person a rich crimson velvet hood, they bent their as, in a former case, the vast majority of the people were steps towards the church, followed by Rycliffe, Bokanky no ways affected by it. To the King it mattered not who bringing up the rear. As they again crossed the marketadministered justice, as he could derive no revenue (which place, their course was impeded by the vast concourse of was his main object) either through the agency of one versed people thronging towards the same place as themselves. in the law, or one ignorant of it. In the days of John Our pedestrians stopped not to observe their neighbours, the expenses incurred by law-suits were trifling; and, but in silence speeded onwards, and soon entered the with the exception of the King's court, at London, the church of Manchester. Monarch derived no revenue from the courts of law. Thus the fifth section of Magna Charta grants no new liberties to the subject; it merely confines itself to rectifying abuses, without contemplating, in the slightest degree, the extension of liberty.

In 1605 the church was a lofty stone building, consisting of a choir, two side aisles, and a large space occupied by transverse seats and benches, and a pulpit, in which the service of the church was performed. It was into this latter part of the church, the party we have introduced to our readers now entered. Fitzosborne and Alice seated themselves on a rude bench, at a small distance from the pulpit, • Darien Presentment a recognition to discover who pre-while Rycliffe, attended by Bokanky, stationed himself at

End of Chapter Sixth.

sented the last parson to a church. Mort d'Ancester—whether the last possessor was seized of land demesne in his own fee. Novel Desseisin-whether the claimant had been unjustly disseised of his freehold.

Tales, Romances, &c.

ORIGINAL]

THE PLAGUE OF MANCHESTER,

A ROMANCE.

BY EDGAR ATHELING.

CHAPTER IV.

"The malison of Heaven doth rest upon thee. Thou art curs'd."—Old Play.

At the same time a number of the inhabitants emerged from their abodes, and hurried towards the church. "Whence arises this summons?" said he to one of the inhabitants, "and why do ye hasten towards the church?" "We go to supplicate the Almighty touching our present dreadful state," said the person he interrogated; then casting a terrified look on Rycliffe, be sped forwards. "Methinks ye act wisely," muttered Rycliffe, for assuredly your sole aid is in the mercy of Heaven." He now arrived at the door of Alice Hardman's house, and commanding Bokanky to follow him, he entered. He found Fitzosborne still endeavouring to console the weeping Alice; to whom addressing himself, and presenting Timothy, he exclaimed,

"Lady, I have brought hither a servant, who, I trust, will execute his office well and faithfully. What sayest thou, valorous Bokanky ?" Timothy, who was marvellously well pleased with the house and its inmates, ejaculated,

Of a truth, I conna promise as how I can do so much, but if I dunna do whatsoe'er I can, my name's not Timothy Bokanky."

"Well, well, thou wilt answer our present purpose,"

the farther extremity of the church.

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For a moment the sound of the voice of supplication floated through the long aisles of the church, and then gra dually died away. The congregation lay prostrate on the earth, and deep and audible sobs burst from many a fai bosom and many a manly heart. Again and again did t broken-hearted and fear-stricken people murmur, "Fro plague, pestilence, and famine, Good Lord, deliver ; and deep and woeful sobs burst from them as they cou nued prostrate in the dust.

Once again did the minister utter the supplication, again burst from the people the response: again all came silent, and nought was heard, save stifled sobs a groans.

At this moment, when every eye was bent on the ear a voice that made the church re-echo exclaimed, "W do ye thus, sinful and perverse generation; why do thus humble yourselves before Baal? Have not I, Ami dab Armitage, proclaimed unto ye, that unless ye put an the evil ones which are amongst ye, surely shall ye pat in your ungodliness?"

The congregation sprung from the ground in terror alarm, and gazed wildly on the personage who thus

Armitage stood in the centre of the church, exactly opp site the pulpit; he was a tall, but dreadfully emacia figure, clothed in a suit of rusty black, cut in the primitive fashion; on his head was a large steeple beneath which flowed his long, lank, black hair; his chin was fastened what seemed a resemblance bands worn by the clergymen of the Church of Eng and by his side was girded a long and heavy sword; eyes rolled with all the wildness of insanity, and clenched hands he stood pausing, to mark the impres his words had made on the inhabitants of Manche These latter recognised in Aminadab Armitage one of Puritans who, even at the time of the plague of Mand ter, existed in considerable numbers. Aminadab had striven to turn the people from what he called their ways, but his endeavours had been treated with ridi and contempt, and he had been exposed to consider persecution on account of his religious tenets. 1 operating on a brain by no means of the first order, produced a kind of insanity, by reason of which he fam himself a prophet sent by God, to denounce the venge of Heaven upon the inhabitants of Manchester for sins and wickednesses.

The whole of the population of Manchester, of all sexes and degrees, were now assembled in the church, to offer up their prayers to the Almighty, that he would be pleased to stay the terrible and wide-spreading plague, which speedily threatened to annihilate the once pros-nounced upon them the vengeance of Heaven. Aminad perous and happy inhabitants of a now wretched, diseased, and devoted town. Scarcely had Fitzosborne and Alice offered up their silent prayer to the throne of Heaven, when the solemn swell of the organ proclaimed the approach of the minister of God. Every brow was raised in expectation, and every eye was turned towards the pulpit, as with feeble and tottering steps the Rev. John Dee, warden of the church, entered its sacred precincts. The rest of the ministers of the church, six in number, had fled ere the plague was known to exist in Manchester; but he, the most aged and most dignified of them all, preferred remaining with his flock in their hour of peril, to basely forsaking the charge committed to his care by the God of heaven. It was at the command of this venerable man that the inhabitants of Manchester were now assembled in the church, and though bent with age, and on the brink of the grave, John Dee now proposed, for perhaps the last time, to offer up his prayers to Heaven in the church of Manchester. For a moment the aged minister knelt in silent adoration before his Maker, then raising himself, he gazed mournfully on the assembled congregation. His aged eyes were filled with tears, as he beheld the youth and beauty assembled beneath, now prostrate in the dust, and supplicating Heaven to spare them yet a little longer. And to the eyes of youth and beauty, the warden seemed a fit instrument to intercede with them for the purpose of gaining the pardon and mercy of God. For never did a more venerable or saint-like man gaze on his flock, than he who now gazed on the inhabitants of Manchester. The few gray hairs straggling over his bright, bald crown; the pale, wrinkled countenance, and dim blue eyes; the withered hand, clasped as if in supplication; and the snow. white vestments which concealed the rest of his person, gave the Rev. John Dee a look more of the world which is to come, than that in which he at present abode. When the solemn peal of the organ which announced

Such was the person who, standing on one of the bent before mentioned, again prepared to address the con gation. "Have I not," continued he, "proclaimed u ye, O inhabitants of Manchester, that unless ye repell and turned from the evil of your ways, ye should come as the cities of the Plain, yea, even as Sodomi Gomorrah, whom the Lord destroyed for their sins? Al lo! hath not the Lord sent amongst ye a grievous plagt which doth now afflict ye unto death? And surely will cut off all ye who have sinned against him, and persecut the prophet whom he sent to warn ye; even I, Amina Armitage, whom the Lord hath chosen to be the minis of his will."

The Traveller.

LATE ASCENT TO MONT BLANC.

Natural History.

PORTUGUESE MAN OF WAR.

At these words, even in the house of God, a loud laugh irst from one of the congregation, and a voice cried,Tush, thou most egregious ass; have I not known thee m childhood? and hast thou not always been a fool? hy, not even thine own mother could make thee disguish thy right hand from thy left! Beshrew me, if (Extract of a letter from an English Artist now on the Continent.) insect known by this name in the last number of the North ou dost not instantly depart, I will surely do thee some dily harm."

The person from whom these words proceeded was a wat fat butcher, with even at this time a ruddy, healthy, d good-humoured countenance; his large hand was sped, and, with a threatening look, he was shaking it Aminadab, when the latter, with an almost frenzied je, exclaimed, The Lord hath chosen me to be his servant, and to te daim unto the inhabitants of Manchester the punisht of their sins. Lo, he hath revealed unto me that 574, Ralph Pearson, shalt surely die. Hast thou not perted the chosen of the Lord? Hath not thine hand heavy upon his servants? Hath not thy sins cried aloud Heaven? And hath not the Lord hearkened unto the ite of his prophet, Aminadab Armitage? Lo, thy time ame; the arrows of death have stricken thee, and here, tre the high altar of Baal, shalt thou perish. The y displeasure of the Lord is upon thee, and thou shalt athy sins. The righteous shall rejoice when he seeth tengeance; he shall wash his footsteps in the blood of Ingodly."

There is a description of the beautiful and extraordinary American Review, derived from a memoir of Dr. Tilosius, who accompanied M. de Krusenstern in his voyage round The 25th of July now finds us in the celebrated vale of the world. "This worm, between six and eight inches in Chamouny, with the Glaciers and Mont Blanc in view. length, has seemingly the skill of an experienced navigaThis latter object, far seen and far famed, gives an in- tor, and is in itself a little ship. Its evolutions are accordterest to whatever relates to it. On our arrival at the inning to the winds; it raises and lowers its sail, which is a at Chamouny, we were told that two Englishmen had membrane provided with elevating and depressing organs. started yesterday morning, at nine o'clock, to make the When filled with air it is so light that it swims on the surperilous journey to the top of the mountain, with nine face of alcohol, and is, at the same time, provided with a guides, making in all eleven, and it had first been ob- structure which furnishes it with the necessary ballast. served through a telescope in the inn that two had actually When high winds would endanger its existence it descends reached the summit. All eyes were now on the alert. into the deep. From the under side of the body proceed The glass I got hold of at an upper window; and, after tubes which extend twenty feet in length, and are so elasadjusting and shifting it about, observed with minute tic and delicate that they wind in a spiral form like a screw, attention, on the side of the summit, some small black serving at once as anchors, defensive and offensive weapons, objects, that, by degrees, changed their places, and by a pucunnatic tubes and feelers. The insect has the colours progress very slow but perceptible, appeared advancing of the rainbow. Its crest, which performs the office of a upwards. To all the people in the house this was a sub- sail, is intersected with pink and blue veins, trimmed with ject of intense curiosity, and, by turns, each saw and bore a rosy border, and swells with the winds, or at the animal's witness to the phenomenon. I counted to the number of pleasure. The fibres contain a viscous matter, which has nine: a party of four were in advance in a group, with the property of stinging like nettles, and produces pustules. one a-head, while others, two and two, lagged considerably It acts so strongly that vessels in which they have been behind. As they were proceeding from us, their move- kept for a time, must be repeatedly washed before they ment was slow and little perceived; onwards, however, can be used. These fibres may be cut off without depriv we saw them reach the summit, where, little as they ing them or the rest of the insect of the principle of life; seemed, they were nearly lost in the deep blue sky. Even and the separation takes place spontaneously, whenever the last two, lingering, stopping, and resting, approached the glutinous matter comes in contact with a hard surface, de Puritan paused, and fixedly regarded the personage as if to receive them. The whole number having thus dangerous enemies in small dolphins and medesæ, against at last the top, where we could see the others re-appear, like the sides of a glass globe. The insect has, however, hom he thus denounced the vengeance of Heaven. gained the top of Mont Blanc, the highest point in which neither its nautical skill nor its poison can defend it." #butcher, before the appearance of Aminadab, had Europe, perhaps the highest point on earth, the insiga stricken with the plague, and, rapid and destructive nificant powers of man have ever enabled him to reach cts progress, the scourge of the inhabitants of Manches- (which, though often attempted, has, it is said, not been now ended the mortal career of Ralph Pearson. reached before above six times-often attended with loss of lives, and only succeeded in once before by an Englishtely had he heard the fearful denunciation of the half-man.) A short half hour seemed to satisfy them with ed Puritan, than, giving a fearful groan, he fell on the their unwonted elevation, when we saw them begin to *of the church, and instantly expired. With the look descend. action of a demoniac, Aminadab again raised his sepulvoice, and exclaimed,-"Lord, thou hast hearkened my voice; thou art well pleased with thy servant, the ungodly has perished in his iniquity!" The assembled congregation gave a loud and fearful ek as they beheld the death of Ralph Pearson, and 1 looks of dismay and terror did they now regard the sosed prophet: what was simply the effect of the ue, they firmly believed to be the immediate vengeance ae Almighty, and they were now disposed to regard imadab Armitage as the sole means by which they id avert the dreadful scourge that at present afflicted

The warden, who in silence had beheld the scene just icted, with a feeble and tremulous voice now addressed Puritan:

Sinful man," said he, "why camest thou hither to Irb the prayers of the inhabitants of Manchester, or to ate with thy blasphemies the tabernacle of the Most h? Knowest thou not that the days of prophecy have ed, and that in the Scriptures is contained all that man d know or learn for his soul's salvation? Depart, I rge thee, from amongst us, lest it be that the words a speakest bring down the displeasure of God upon a ken-hearted and fear-stricken people."

* John Dee,” returned the Puritan, "thou art an highest of Baal? Hath not thy dealings with the evil one oduced this plague; and art not thou he who must die, cale of thy transgressions? Lo, I accuse thee of interurs with Satan; thy knowledge surpasses the knowledge man, and there is not on earth one who can compete ith thee. Surely thine hour is come, and e, even atan, who gavest thee thy knowledge, must now receive ee for ever and ever. Seize him," continued he, turnto the congregation, "seize him, and hew him to before the Lord. So shall the plague be stayed, d heavy displeasure shall no more rest upon ye."

END OF CHAPTER IV.

after forty-nine hours' absence, the two Englishmen, with
26th,-To-day all was expectation; and at nine o'clock,
their nine guides, and a boy who had gone with them for
his own pleasure, arrived.

We have copied the preceding from the Atlas, from which we also transcribe the following original communication on the same subject, addressed to the editor of that journal:

the class above named: it is of the genus holothuria, and "The animal alluded to belongs to the second order species physalis; and must be pretty well known to every observer of nature who has crossed the Atlantic Ocean. This attractive little sailor we have often seen and admired and 23° 31′ W. longitude, several were taken up for in our ship's course; and particularly in latitude 9° 2′ N. closer examination, and the following notes were made at the moment.

"SIR,-In your paper of the 19th instant, in your column of Gleanings, and the sixth paragraph, you give, as an extract from an American Review, a partial description of an animal belonging to the class vermes of the acceptable to those you term common readers to have furSystema Natura of Linnæus. May it not prove equally ther details of this subject of natural history from authority of recent date, and from one not a mere superficial obThey had, on the 24th, reached the usual resting-server of the beauties of nature? at the head of the Glaciers, by the side of which they place, La Grande Mullee. This is a black ridge of rocks ascended, and which they had much fatigue and risk in crossing to obtain. At the Grande Mullee they stopped for the night under a tent, which they took with them, in able, disturbed only by the noise of avalanches falling all which, with blankets, &c. they were warm and comfortaround them. On the 25th, at day-break, they proceeded up a valley of snow, then took a new route, by which they escaped the dangers which had destroyed those men who had made a similar attempt before. As they got towards the top, their fatigue and weakness became extreme; their pulses beat high; some were seized with head-ache, spitting of blood, and bleeding at the nose; others with loss of appetite, and one even with vomiting; all breathed with difficulty, and required frequent rests. Mr. Hawes, who is a stout little fellow, of twenty years, was the only one nearly exempted from these symptoms. On the top the air was cold beyond belief; but the view seemed to comprehend every thing; they appeared high above every object: saw on one side the Lake of Geneva, Neufchatel, and the Jura Mountains; but the clearest and most beautiful was on the side of Savoy and Italy the Appenines, the Mediterranean, and France, known to be in sight from Mont Blanc, were not then visible.

:

facility, compared with the ascent.
At three o'clock they began to descend; a matter of
At six they gained
their resting-place on the Grande Mullee. They here re.
mained for the night, which was wet and cold; and the
noise of the avalanches, always most frequent in rain, had
much the effect of continued thunder. This morning they
had again to cross the glaciers; to facilitate which, they
were tied, two or three together, in a chain of ropes, to
secure them in crossing the deep crevices between the ice;
and the danger being thus past, they reached Chamouny
to breakfast, having finished the journey without loss,
without hurt, and apparently without over fatigue; but
which they said they would never advise any one again to
attempt. Every circumstance was favourable, but they
thought neither the view nor the fame could at all com-
pensate for the danger and pain of their undertaking.

"The body is eliptically ovate, gently arched, and form. ing a curve, the greatest depth of which is an inch and a half, and the width or span, from one extremity to the other, four inches; the sides are convex, one side more produced than the other; the dorsal curve is of a bright orange red, with numerous nerves or short radii of the same colour diverging from it. When the body is inflated it is diaphonous; the two attenuate extremities of the curve are of a rich purple, and from the anterior, or what may be considered the head, proceed numerous cirrii, or spiral tentacula of unequal lengths, from one to thirty inches or more: some of these are white, but much the greater number are of the same beautiful purple above mentioned, and all pendent from the under surface of the body. These appendages, by which the animal discriminates the sustenance on which it feeds, are in incessant action, contracting and extending their spiral threads to unknown depths. The white tentacula already noticed terminate in a circular concave sucker: four of the number are broader than the rest, and appear as if formed to enable the animal to attach itself to substances it may come in contact with. Two or three of these Portuguese men of war were kept in a bucket of sea-water during one whole day, without losing the transparency of the body or the beauty of its colours.

"It was observed that when the surface of the sea was smooth, and the ship made but little way through the water, that these little sailors were each followed by two or three small fishes, from two to five inches in length, and not unlike the pilot fish, so famed as the shark's precursor: these differ, however, in the greater length of their pectoral fins, and the caudal fin being deeply forked. "Greenwich, Aug. 20, 1827."

"A SUBSCRIBER.

Poetry.

LOVE.

"Love-we paint him as a child,

When he should sit a giant on his clouds,

The great disturbing spirit of the world!"-Croly.

No! paint no more in sportive form

The giant ruler of the storm!

Paint him no more with roses crowned,

But with the deadly nightshade bound;
The tear upon his wasted cheek

The tale of agony to speak,
And hectic with its fitful ray
That seeks to beautify decay!

Paint him where cypress sheds its gloom,
A shadow hastening to the tomb;
With Pity, weeping by his side,
And Hope, the heart's betraying guide.
Or paint him on the blasted plain,
Or on the storm-resounding main;
Or captive 'mid a host of foes,
But never, never in repose;
For Love, the living and the true,
Ne'er yet the lot propitious drew;
A lonely wanderer doom'd of Fate,
Or ne'er confest, or own'd too late.
Liverpool.

TO ZILLAH, ON HER BIRTHDAY.

"Thrice has the earth fulfilled her ring
Since first my love I gave to thee,
And every year but serves to bring

A cause for deeper constancy."-F. D. Astley.

Time's never varying wing hath brought
Another year in joyous pleasure,
Yet, love, in me no change is wrought

To win my soul from her dear treasure.
Youths' visions still are floating round me,
And thy deep magic yet hath bound me,
And still I find thou art more dear
Than thou wert any former year.
Though time can heart from heart estrange,
In mine it cannot work a change,

But only leaves a deeper trace,

Which nought but death can e'er erase.

I have seen beauty, with an eye

Might shake the firmest constancy;

A sunny smile, a brilliant brow,

A cheek with beauty's holiest glow;

Charms to which kings might bend the knee;
But never saw I one like thee!

Thou art the star whose rays hath shed
A hallowing calmness o'er my soul,
When every hope was withered,

And I had drained Grief's bitter bowl.

Thou art the same, so pure and warm, That won my heart in early youth; Excell'd by nought in grace and form, And equall'd only by thy truth. Time speeds, but yet he hath not cast One shadow o'er thee as he pass'd; And years may pass, and link a chain, That only death shall burst in twain. Manchester, August 14, 1827.

G.

W. R-N.

TO .

Who had marked, in a newspaper sent me, the conclusion of some verses, which was as follows:

"Ah! think not thou, dear friend, to find,
One rose without a thorn."

Was it in sad or playful mood,
*****! that thou these lines didst trace?
Would that beside thee I had stood,

To read their meaning in thy face.

It could not be that I, whose brow,
Though yet in manhood's early stage,
Doth, as thou knowest, deeply show
The furrows of a riper age;

I, whom not seldom thou hast found
With sadness o'er my features stealing,-
Even when thy thrilling laugh sent round
The tide of rich, delightful feeling;

I, whose heart's bitterness is not
Some bubbling, fitful, noisy thing-
Soon born, and soon to be forgot,-

But a deep, full, perennial spring;
Which, from its depths but sorrow bringing;
One course shall keep until it be
Changed to a well of water, springing
Up into immortality.

***** ! I say thou couldst not deem

That I, thus disciplined, am one, Of perfect bliss on earth to dream,A thornless rose beneath the sun! Did'st mean, then, by these lines that thou, Whose looks, words, motions, tones, were wont To seem the constant overflow

From a glad heart's unfailing fount ? Didst mean that thou, from the fresh wreck Of some long-cherished hope most dear, Hast learned how vain it is to seek

For one unmingled pleasure here?

Dear moralist! if such, indeed,

The feelings, thoughts, that thou would'st speak; If thou hast leaned upon a reed,

And found that reeds are frail, and break:
Not, ***** ! in the worldling's strain,
Would I, whom thou hast called thy friend,
Tell thee some fragile prop again

To try;-I would not bid thee bend.
Thy steps, where fools their moments spend,
Seeking what none shall ever find,
In earth-born joys, that earthward tend,-
Peace-peace for the immortal mind !
No: though I be a groveller here,
Ambition's slave, and mammon's tool,
Hugging the galling chains I wear,
While my soul hates them, spell-bound fool!
Yet, as thy friend, I counsel thee :-

Give thy thoughts room; oh, let them leave This scene of ceaseless vanity,

And mount where hope can ne'er deceive: For hope is needless and unknown,

Where bliss, in one "eternal now," Fills the whole presence of the throne, And all the hosts that round it bow. August 19, 1827.

LE LEVER DU SOLEIL ET LA NUIT.

Au retour du matin, quand le ciel se colore,
Vous dormez: moi, j'assiste au réveil de l'Aurore.
Je sors; j'entens déjà les coqs dans le lointain
Saluer de leurs cris le retour du matin.

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Mille petits oiseaux épars sous la feuillée
Appellent en chantant leur famille éveillée.
Les chiens jappent, les boeufs mugissent, les chevaux
De leurs henissemens font bruire les côteaux,
Et de cent mille voix la confuse harmonie
Atteste le réveil de la terre endormie.
Quel tableau ravissant s'offre alors à mes yeux!
Quel peintre imiterait ce mouvement des cieux,
Ce jour, d'abord douteux, qui s'accroit, se colore,
Qui fait qu'on apperçoit sans distinguer encore,
Qui répand par degrès la forme, les couleurs,
Rougit l'azur des cieux, repeint l'émail des fleurs,
Et déroule en marchant sa robe de lumière
Sur les monts, les vallons, et la nature entière.
Quel spectacle! et quel trouble amollit tous mes sens,
Quand, surprenant l'Aurore et ses charmes naissans,
Je m'égare à pas lents sous les voutes mi-sombrer
De ces bois mélangés de lumières et d'ombres!
J'erre, un livre à la main, mon chien à mon côté,
Mon chien, mon vieil ami, le seul qui m'est resté!
J'admire ce matin frais, rayonnant, superbe:

Tout brille: un diamant pend à chaque brin d'herbe.
Dans les airs, sous les eaux, sur les monts, dans les bois
Tout vit, parle, se meut, se ranime à la fois,
Et la nature attend dans son habit de fête
Le Dieu resplendissant dont le réveil s'apprête.
Il parait.... Mais je vois que vous n'écoutez pás:
Quoi, d'un tableau si frais seriez-vous déjà las!
Aimez-vous mieux me suivre aux rives des fontaines,
Languissamment couché sous l'ombrage des chênes,
Lorsque du haut des cieux, le soleil irrité
Répand sur les moissons les feux de l'été,
Ou sur un lit de mousse, en une grotte obscure,
Tantôt dormant au bruit d'une onde qui murmure,
Tantôt rêvant, les yeux fixés sur son crystal,
Ou mariant aux sons d'un air sentimental
Quelques vers négligés que ma muse champêtre
Ecrit en se jouant sur l'écorce d'un hêtre.

C'est ainsi, cher Cléon, que s'écoule un best jour.
Il finit: l'heure avance, et la nuit de retour
Epand sur l'univers ses charmes invisibles,
Moment délicieux pour les ames sensibles!
Déjà sur l'horizon plane au loin le repos,
L'ombre poursuit le jour au sommet des côteaux;
J'y monte; je m'assieds; je contemple; je pense,
Et de la vaste nuit j'écoute le silence.
Le bruit du jour se tait: les plaines et les bois
N'ont plus de mouvement, de couleur, ni de voix,
Et sans l'eau qui frémit, et le vent qui murmure,
A peine entendrait-on respirer la nature.
Dans ce calme profond les plus légers accens
Parviennent à mon ame aussitôt qu'à mes sens.
Un son, tant loin soit-il, enchante mon oreille;
Tantôt c'est la chanson du rossignol qui veille,
Tantôt le chien qui jappe aux portes du hameau,
Ou le bruit frais de l'eau qui tombe du côteau;
Tantôt le vent m'apporte à travers le silence
D'un moulin éloigné la nocturne cadence,
Ou le cri du passant dans sa route égaré;
Ou bien, du haut des tours d'un cloître retiré,
J'entens dans le lointain les cloches réunies
Répandre dans les airs leurs saintes harmonies:
Leur son mélancolique amêne au fond du cœur
La paix, les souvenirs, je ne sais quel bonheur,
Vague, inquiet, mêlé de joie et de tristesse.
Il semble autour de nous que le passé renaisse :
L'enfance, le vieux tems, notre premier amour,
Tous ces pensers furtifs que distrairait le jour
Peuple l'obscurité de leurs douces chimères;
Et comme un barde antique assis sur les bruyères,
Quand la lune a percé la profondeur des nuits,
Je chante, environné de fantômes chèris,
Et tous ceux que j'aimais, dont j'aime encore la cendr
Semblent du haut des cieux se pencher pour m'entende

[graphic]

the medium of our paper, (though, what we think of the danger of his principles, we have already sufficiently explained for ourselves, and have, we trust, succeeded in putting our readers upon their guard against them)we hold ourselves bound not only to justify the fidelity of the imitation, but (contrary to our original intention) to give a further specimen of it in our present number, in order to bring the question more fairly to issue between our author and his calumniators.

father. Gaspar, apprehensive of the power and popularity which the young Rogero may enjoy at his return to Court, seizes the occasion of his intrigue with Matilda, (of which he is apprized officially by Doctor Pottingen) to procure from his Master an order for the recal of Rogero from College, and for committing him to the care of the Prior of the Abbey of Quedlinburgh,-a priest, rapacious, savage, and sensual, and devoted to Gaspar's interests-sending at the same time private orders to the Prior to confine him in a dungeon.

Here Rogero languishes many years. His daily sustenance is administered to him through a grated opening at the top of a cavern, by the landlady of the Golden Eagle at Weimar, with whom Gaspar contracts, in the Prince's name, for his support; intending, and more than once endeavouring, to corrupt the waiter to mingle poison with the food, in order that he may get rid of Rogero for ever.

In the first place, we are to observe, that Mr. Higgins professes to have taken his notion of German plays wholly from the translations which have appeared in our language. If they are totally dissimilar from the originals, Mr. H. may, undoubtedly, have been led into error; but the fault is in the translators, not in him. That he does not differ widely from the models which he proposed to himself, we have it in our power to prove satisfactorily; and might have done so in our last number, by subjoining to each particular passage of his play, the scene in In the meantime Casimere, having been called away some one or other of the German plays which he had in from the neighbourhood of Matilda's residence to other view when he wrote it. These parallel passages were faith-quarters, becomes enamoured of, and marries Cecilia, by fully pointed out to us by Mr. H. with that candour which whom he has a family; and whom he likewise deserts marks his character; and if they were suppressed by us, after a few years cohabitation, on pretence of business (as in truth they were,) on our heads be the blame, what- which calls him to Kamtschatka. ever it may be. Little, indeed, did we think of the imputation which the omission would bring upon Mr. H.; as, in fact, our principal reason for it was, the apprehension that, from the extreme closeness of the imitation, in most instances, he would lose in praise for invention, more than he would gain in credit for fidelity.

The meeting between Matilda and Cecilia, for example, in the first act of the Rovers, and their sudden intimacy, has been censured as unnatural. Be it so. It is taken, almost word for word, from Stella, a German (or professedly a German) piece now much in vogue; from which also the catastrophe of Mr. Higgins's play is in part borrowed, so far as relates to the agreement to which the ladies come, as the reader will see by and by, to share Casimere between them.

The dinner scene is copied partly from the published translation of the Stranger, and partly from the first scene of Stella. The song of Rogero, with which the first act concludes, is admitted on all hands to be in the very first taste; and if no German original is to be found for it, so much the worse for the credit of German literature.

An objection has been made by one anonymous letterwriter to the names of Puddingfield and Beefington, as little likely to have been assigned to English characters by any author of taste or discernment. In answer to this objection, we have, in the first place, to admit that a small, and we hope not an unwarrantable, alteration has been made by us since the manuscript has been in our hands. These names stood originally Puddingcrantz and Beefinstern, which sounded to our ears as being liable, especially the latter, to a ridiculous inflection, a difficulty that could only be removed by furnishing them with English terminations. With regard to the more substantial syllables of the names, our author proceeded in all probability on the authority of Goldoni, who, though not a German, is an Italian writer of considerable reputation; and who, having heard that the English were distinguished for their love of liberty and beef, has judiciously compounded the two words Runneymede and beef, and thereby produced an English nobleman, whom he styles Lord Runnybeef.

To dwell no longer on particular passages-the best way, perhaps, of explaining the whole scope and view of Mr. H.'s imitation, will be to transcribe the short sketch of the plot, which that gentleman transmitted to us; together with his Drama, and which it is, perhaps, the more necessary to give at length, as the limits of our paper not allowing of the publication of the whole piece, some general knowledge of its main design may be acceptable to our readers, in order to enable them to judge of the several extracts which we lay before them.

PLOT.

Rogero, son of the late Minister of the Count of Saxe Weimar, having, while he was at College, fallen desperately in love with Matilda Pottingen, daughter of his tutor, Doctor Engelburtus Pottingen, Professor of Civil Law; and Matilda evidently returning his passion, the Doctor, to prevent ill consequences, sends his daughter on a visit to her aunt, in Wetteravia, where she becomes acquainted with Casimere, a Polish officer, who happens to be quartered near her aunt's, and has several children by him.

Roderic, Count of Saxe Weimar, a Prince of a tyrannical and licentious disposition, has for his Prime Minister and favourite Gaspar, a crafty villain, who had risen to his post by first ruining, and then putting to death, Rogero's

Doctor Pottingen, now grown old and infirm, and feel

moments in a directly inverted position; then replaces on the table, with an air of dejection, and gradua sinks into a profound slumber.-The pipe falls from i hand, and is broken.

Beef.-I beg.

Pudd.-[Deals three Cards to Beefington.]—Are yo satisfied?

Beef-Enough. What have you? Pudd.-High-low-and the game. Beef.-Damnation! 'tis my deal. [Deal, turns up knave.-One for his heels! | Triumphant

Pudd.-Is king highest? Beef-No.-Sternly.]-The game is mine. T knave gives it me.

Pudd.-Are knaves so prosperous?

the game in their hands. Your kings are but noddies Beef. Ay, marry, are they in this world. They ha

them.

Pudd.-Ha! ha! ha!-Still the same proud spirit Beefington, which procured thee thine exile from England Beef-England! my native land!-when shall I visit thee?

[during this time Puddingfield deals, and begins to arrange his hand. they to a mind ill at ease?Can they cure the heart-ache Beef.-[continues] Pooh-Hang All-Fours; what ar -Can they soothe banishment ?-Can they lighten ig miny?-Can All-Fours do this?-O! my Puddingred thy limber and lightsome spirit bounds up against af tion, with the elasticity of a well-bent bow; but mine

ing the want of his daughter's society, sends young Poto tingen in search of her, with strict injunctions not t return without her; and to bring with her either he present lover Casimere, or should that not be possible, Rogero himself, if he can find him; the Doctor having set his heart upon seeing his children comfortably settled before his death. Matilda about the same period quits her! mineaunt's in search of Casimere; and Cecilia having been advertised (by an anonymous letter) of the falsehood of his Kamtschatka journey, sets out in a post- waggon on a similar pursuit.

It is at this point of time the play opens-with the accidental meeting of Cecilia and Matilda at the inn at Weimar. Casimere arrives there soon after, and falls in first with Matilda, and then with Cecilia. Successive éclair. cissements take place, and an arrangement is finally made, by which the two ladies are to live jointly with Casimere.

Young Pottingen, wearied with a few weeks' search, during which he has not been able to find either of the objects of it, resolves to stop at Weimar, and wait events there. It so happens that he takes up his lodging in the same house with Puddincrantz and Beetinstern, two English noblemen, whom the tyranny of King John has obliged to fly from their country; and who, after wander ing about the Continent for some time, have fixed their residence at Weimar.

The news of the signature of Magna Charta arriving, determines Puddincrantz and Beefinstern to return to England. Young Pottingen opens his case to them, and entreats them to stay to assist him in the object of his search. This they refuse; but coming to the inn where they are to set off for Hamburgh, they meet Casimere, from whom they had both received many civilities in Poland.

Casimere, by this time, tired of his "Double Arrangement," and having learnt from the waiter that Rogero is confined in the vaults of the neighbouring abbey, for love, resolves to attempt his rescue, and to make over Matilda to him as the price of his deliverance. He communicates his scheme to Puddingfield and Beefington, who agree to assist him; as also does young Pottingen. The waiter of the inn proving to be a Knight Templar, in disguise, is appointed leader of the expedition. A band of trouba. dours, who happen to be returning from the crusades, and a company of Austrian and Prussian grenadiers returning from the seven years' war, are engaged as troops.

The attack on the abbey is made with success. The Count of Weimer and Gaspar, who are feasting with the prior, are seized and beheaded in the refectory. The prior is thrown into the dungeon, from which Rogero is rescued. Matilda and Cecilia rush in. The former recognises Rogero, and agrees to live with him. The children are produced on all sides, and young Pottingen is commissioned to write to his father, the Doctor, to detail the joyful events which have taken place, and to invite him to Weimar to partake of the general felicity.

ACT II-SCENE I.

A room in an ordinary lodging-house at WEIMAR.PUDDINGFIELD and BEEFINGTON discovered sitting at a small deal table, and playing at All-Fours. Young POTTINGEN at another table in the corner of the room, with a pipe in his mouth, and a Saxon mug of a singular shape beside him, which he repeatedly applies to his lips, turning back his head, and casting his eyes towards the firmament at the last trial he holds the mug for some

[falls into an agony, and sinks back in his chairYoung POTTINGEN, awakened by the noise,ria and advances with a grave demeanour tow Beefington and Puddingfield. The former beg

to recover.

Y. Pet.-What is the matter, comrades?+-you agitated. Have you lost or won?

Beef-Lost. I have lost my country.

Y. Pot. And I my sister. I came hither in search her.

Beef-0, England!

Y. Pot.-0, Matilda!

means of revenge, and of restoration to my country. Beef. Exiled by the tyranny of an Usurper, I seek th secuted by the jealousy of a Count, the betrothed husband Y. Pot. Oppressed by the tyranny of an Abber, of my sister languishes in a loathsome captivitylover is fled no one knows whither and I, her brothe chirurgery; to seek him and her, I know not where am torn from my paternal roof and from my studies i sel-my search fruitless-my money gone-my bagg rescue Rogero, I know not how. Comrades, your co stolen! What am I to do ?-In yonder abbey-in the dark, dank vaults, there, my friends-there lies Rogers there Matilda's heart.

SCENE II. Enter Waiter.

Waiter.-Sir, here is a person who desires to spe with you.

Beef-[Goes to the door, and returns with a lett which he opens; on perusing it his countenance becom illuminated, and expands prodigiously] Ha, my fries what joy! [turning to Pudding Pudd.-What? tell me-let your Puddingfield

take it.

Beef. See herePudd.-What?

[ produces a printed paper, [with impatience Beef in a significant tone] A newspaper! Pudd. Ha, what sayst thou?-A newspaper! Beef-Yes, Puddingfield, and see here [shows it tially] from England.

This is an excellent joke in German; the point and spl of which is but ill-Rendered in a translation. A Noddy, reader will observe, has two significations the one a ke All-Fours; the other a fool or booby. See the translation b Mr. Render, of Count Benyowsky; or the Conspiracy Kamtschatka, a German Tragi Comi-Comi-Tragedy;-what the play opens with a scene of a Game at Chess (from whe the whole of this scene is copied) and a joke of the same pott and merriment, about Pawns, that is, Boors, being a match fa Kings.

This word in the original is, strictly, fellow-lodgers; " occupants of the same room, in a house let out at a small rent the week."-There is no single word in English which expresse so complicated a relation, except, perhaps, the cant term af chum, formerly in use at our Universities.

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