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Church, so much the object of invective, is only L.600,000 a-year, since the burden laid on it by the Irish Church Reform Act. It is as the first step to ulterior things, therefore, that the destruction of this species of property is so fiercely advocated. The way to deal with this question, difficult as it may appear, is obvious. Sedulously promote improvement anxiously eradicate experienced evils -steadily resist revolutionary spoliation. By all means, therefore, introduce a general commutation of tithes, on principles equitable alike to the clergy and the people-remove the evils, under a due attention to existing interests, of non-residence and pluralities-equalize, under a similar attention, to a certain degree, the livings, so as to increase the efficiency and respectability of the clergy-and, having done this, firmly resist to the uttermost any appropriation of the funds of the Church to secular purposes, or any approach to the system of admitting an Established Church only where a certain number of the inhabitants of a parish are of that faith; in other words, making the religion of a state the parti-coloured jacket of the harlequin.

In like manner, the existing evils of Ireland are, the sway of the agitators, the dependence of the Catholic priesthood on the deluded flocks which they wield at pleasure, the redundance of the population, the want of employment, the destitution of the poor, the multitude of absentee landlords, and the general insecurity which prevails. The Whigs could devise no remedies for these evils, but giving the Great Agitator, after he had pleaded guilty to a criminal charge, a silk gown-proclaiming from the Castle of Dublin the mandate, "Agitate, agitate, agitate!"-abolishing Church cess, which amounted, as a general burden, to L.90,000 a-year, and laying it on the clergy-and abolishing ten bishoprics; in other words, annihilating ten of the few remaining resident landed proprietors in the country. Let the Conservative Reformers proceed on different principles. Let them introduce, and that too right speedily, a general system of Poor Laws, divested of the evils which disfigure the English system; and in so doing close the

fountain which so long has deluged English industry with foreign misery. Let them establish a firm and unbending administration of justice

give a ready vent to the starving multitudes of the poor in gratuitous foreign emigration-set on foot great public works to absorb them at home

and relieve the priesthood from their abject dependence on the agitators by a general provision, paid not out of the funds of the Church, but the general income of the State. The same may be done in every other department. The anxious and feverish wish for the removal of evils and the progress of improvement may be rendered consistent with the most real and substantial benefits to the industrious classes, while the Revolutionists alone are denied the iniquitous advantages which they hoped to gain at others' expense, and by the certain destruction of the institutions, property, and liberties of the country.

The composition of the new Ministry offers the fairest prospects of success-much more so than could have been presented if a Cabinet had been formed on a wider basis, and embracing a greater variety of opinion. That the Ministry will be as liberal as is consistent either with the stability or improvement of our institutions, cannot admit of a moment's doubt, when the composition of the House of Commons under the Reform Bill is considered. The real danger was, that they would have been too liberal; that, under the influence of previous habits and opinions, a part of the Cabinet would have pressed forward measures inconsistent with the existence of united councils, and leading directly to a renewal of the divisions which proved so fatal to the cause of order in 1829. A repetition of such a catastrophe would have utterly ruined the Conservative party, and with them given a death-blow to the last hopes of the country. Nothing could have been imagined so disastrous as a splitting of the supporters of order, now firmly united; and a second fall, not in defence of principle, or in support of the Monarchy, but from the paralysing effect of internal dissension. As they stand now, the Cabinet are infinitely more likely to be stable and united, because it is

composed of men who, to talents of the very highest order, both for administration and debate, unite unity of principle and similarity of feeling. If they find that they cannot govern the country but by entering into measures of spoliation or revolution -if a majority of the Lower House, after an appeal has been made to the better feelings of the nation, are still resolved to persist in the destructive course, let them at once resign, and let the infatuated people learn, amidst tears and suffering, the wisdom which they could not derive from reason or argument. The cause of order is never hopeless as long as a noble and virtuous party remains united in defence of the principles of religion and virtue; the real time for despondency begins when they have ruined their strength by internal dissensions.

Government, however, will stand in need of the forbearance and consideration of all classes in steering the vessel of the State through the numerous shoals and breakers into the midst of which it has been plunged by the recklessness and incapacity of its predecessors. The Conservatives must regard them with the eyes of indulgence. They must recollect the unparalleled diffiIculties with which they have to struggle, and that they may sometimes be obliged to agree to measures which they do not approve, to avoid the greater evils which may arise from refusing them. They must recollect, that the Whigs are now, as a party, destroyed-that the Reform Bill has sunk them to the bottom-that other and dearer interests are now at stake-that the country is now rapidly dividing into two classes, and two classes only, the Conservatives and Destructives, and that, if the former are overthrown, the latter will inevitably succeed. Let them recollect, that it is not now a question between Pitt and Fox, Grey or Wellington; but that if Sir

Robert Peel's administration is overturned, Lord Durham and O'Connell, the fierce Radicals and thirsty Revolutionists, come at once into power. Let the moderate and conscientious, and, therefore, now conservative Whigs, consider to what a state the country will be reduced if, by uniting with the Radicals, they succeed in overthrowing a Government which is confessedly the last stay between us and a fierce and bloody Revolution. Let them recollect, that the Whigs have confessedly failed in the attempt that Lord Melbourne's administration fell to pieces from the experienced neces sity of introducing the Radicals into the Government-and that, if they overthrow the Duke of Wellington, no other power in the state will be able to oppose to them any resistance. Finally, let all the lovers of their country recollect for what a cause, and under what a leader, they are now to be engaged-that they are to struggle for all that man holds dear-their liberties, their properties, their children, their lives!that this struggle, if unsuccessful, will unquestionably be the last, and a bloody convulsion swallow up the falling remains of English greatness. Finally, let them take example from the patriotic and disinterested conduct of that illustrious man, who has recently set so noble an example of true patriotism-who without hesitation repaired to the post of danger, when hardly any one but himself would have ventured to fill it-who alone withstood, for a month, the calumnies and falsehoods of his own and his country's enemies-and, at last, retired from the elevated station to which he had been called by his Sovereign, and, conferring on others the lustre and sweets of power, reserved only for himself its toils and its duties, the consciousness of duty done, and the anticipation of immortality acquired.

SPENSER.

No. V.

THE FAERY QUEEN.-LEGEnd of the red-cross knight.

THIS is quite the perfection of a Fairy Dell. Yet we feel that to paint it as it deserves, we should be in the far-off city. The beauty so satisfies our senses, that 'tis out of our power to select from the images that compose it; and without selection, nor pen nor pencil can create a picture. We shut our eyes, and try to see it as in a dream-hoping that thus we may be inspired by its visionary character, and on opening them again, at least write a prose-poem in its praise. But the little dinning waterfall keeps disturbing us with the felt presence of the birk woods it vivifies; the diamond pool below, which it troubles into a thousand lovely flaws, sends its lustre through our eyelids, and will be seen, whether we will or no, as if it were all one shattered chrysolite; and the slip of steadfast blue sky, slowly floated over by families of clouds, has so become a very part of our imagination, that we see it even more distinctly than before, and can remember nothing of all the rest of heaven.

Well, then, we shall make no more unavailing attempts to put on paper the perfection of a Fairy Dell. But hush-there are one-two-three of the most beautiful of the Fairies! Yet who ever before in this world saw Fairies by sunlight, and in meridian day? So very shady the place, indeed, that here it is liker twilight -and the Silent People fear not to visit it even now-knowing that it is as solitary as during the time of stars. Hand in hand they come along the embowered greensward-linked with one long flower-garland that seems many garlands-and right on towards our Čave. Ha! can Fairies laugh so shrill as well as sweetcan Fairies dance so firm at once and light-can Fairies toss such clustering tresses from such radiant brows -and ever uplifted Fairies to the heavens such heavenly eyes as these -that seem to lend more beauty than they borrow from the cerulean sky?

VOL. XXXVII. NO. CCXXX.

Their Christian names softly syllable themselves, each name with its own voice, in the hush of our heart. Lovelier far than any Fairies-though the forest-genius, love-inspired, has sung of them as most lovely-ye sweet Humanities! are you to these darkening eyes of ours, that were they to be utterly darkened, would still see you shining through thickest night! In aimless joy into the gloom you go-and God goes with youand with your innocence. Our eyes fall again on the book before us, and a brightness, not of sunshine, but of our own soul, illumines the pages as we turn over leaf after leaf-and see, without reading, the poetry that breathes like music through the light. Una! Belphoebe! Florimel! fair names of fairest beings! Yet Spenser's own spirit-though it was a spirit all divine-did never see in inspiration's hour IDEAS purer in their immortality, than these Christian maidens, who were born to die!

Many a time and oft all three have wept-O shade of gentle Edmund! nor wished ever to cease such weeping-over thy pity-prompting, soulsubduing strains! All that is best in thy spirit-eternized here on earthhas sunk into theirs; and thinking of their sad happiness, as they read through their tears, a holier pathos now touches us from every page, and Una's self is dearer to us for their dearest sakes.

So now this Cave shall be our Study

and the Legend of the Red-Crosse Knight our theme of thought once more-while even in Spenser's poetry we shall be satisfied, though we meet with nothing lovelier than the life now hidden in that wood, in which the cushat has this moment hushed her brooding voice;-yet why, O fearful bird! shouldst thou have been startled by the approach of creatures, who not willingly on the wild brier would disturb the dew!

For all such we read to writenor is their number few beneath the skies. Had there not been thousands

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"Eternall Providence, exceeding thought,
Where none appears can make her selfe a way :
A wondrous way it for this lady wrought,
From lyons clawes to pluck the gryped pray.
Her shrill outeryes and shrieks so loud did bray,
That all the woodes and forestes did resownd:
A troupe of Faunes and Satyres far away
Within the wood were dauncing in a rownd,
Whiles old Sylvanus slept in shady arber sownd:

"Who, when they heard that pitteous strained voice,
In haste forsooke their rurall merriment,

And ran towardes the far-rebownded noyce,
To weet what wight so loudly did lament.
Unto the place they come incontinent :
Whom when the raging Sarazin espyde,
A rude, mishapen, monstrous rablement,
Whose like he never saw, he durst not byde;
But got his ready steed, and fast away gan ryde.

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"The doubtfull damzell dare not yet committ
Her single person to their barbarous truth;
But still, twixt feare and hope, amazd does sitt,
Late learnd what harme to hasty trust ensu'th:
They, in compassion of her tender youth,
And wonder of her beauty soverayne,
Are wonne with pitty and unwonted ruth;
And all prostrate upon the lowly playne,

Doe kisse her feete, and fawne on her with count'nance fayne.

"Their harts she ghesseth by their humble guise,

And yieldes her to extremitie of time:

So from the ground she fearelesse doth arise,
And walketh forth without suspect of crime:
They, all as glad as birdes of joyous pryme,
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing round,
Shouting, and singing all a shepheard's ryme;
And with greene braunches strowing all the ground,
Do worship her as queene with olive girlond cround.

“And all the way their merry pipes they sound,
That all the woods with doubled eccho ring;
And with their horned feet doe weare the ground,
Leaping like wanton kids in pleasant spring.
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring;
Who, with the noyse awaked, commeth out
To weet the cause, his weake steps governing,
And aged limbs, on cypresse staddle stout;
And with an yvie twine his waste is girt about.

"Far off he wonders what them makes so glad ;
Or Bacchus merry fruit they did invent,
Or Cybeles franticke rites have made them mad:
They, drawing nigh, unto their god present
That flowre of fayth and beautie excellent:
The god himselfe, viewing that mirrhour rare,
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent:
His own fayre Dryope now he thinkes not faire,
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he doth compaire.

"The wood-borne people fall before her flat,
And worship her as goddesse of the wood;
And old Sylvanus' selfe bethinkes not what
To thinke of wight so fayre; but gazing stood,
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly broode :
Sometimes dame Venus selfe he seemes to see,
But Venus never had so sober mood;

Sometimes Diana he her takes to be,

But misseth bow and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.

"By vew of her he ginneth to revive
His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture alive,
How fayre he was, and yet not fayre to this;
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle hynd, the which the lovely boy
Did love as life, above all worldly blisse:
For griefe whereof the lad n'ould after ioy,

But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wil'd annoy.

"The woody Nymphes, faire Hamadryades,
Her to behold do thether runne apace;
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades
Flocke all about to see her lovely face;

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