The appeal made to old Dutch courage and loyalty, will not be made in vain. The honors shewn by royal decree and popular enthusiasm to the memory of the gallant Lieutenant Van Spyk, who in the combat of October, 1830, of the citadel and fleet with the town of Antwerp, blew up himself and his vessel rather than surrender to the Belgians, are well calculated to quicken the ardor and confirm the resolution of those to whom the defence of the citadel is entrusted. The historical honors too, which in all ages and in all countries await the garrisons of besieged towns, who prefer every alternative of suffering, danger, and death, to the ignominious safety which submission might purchase, will all be remembered on this occasion; and the memorable answer of Palafox, from amidst the almost ruined battlements of the obstinately defended Saragossa-"war, war, to the knife"-will find an echo on this occasion in many a Dutch heart-and so it should beso we hope it will be. There is a natural and honest instinct in the human breast, which prompts it to espouse the weaker cause. If Belgium had been left to settle her quarrel with Holland by the might of her own right arm, we could have looked unmoved upon the spectacle; but when she invokes or assents to the interposition of her mighty neighbors, France and England; and when an old, free, industrious, and peaceful people, like the Dutch, are summarily required to yield what they believe to be their rights, or to encounter the roused and united vengeance of the masters of the land and of the sea, we sympathize with, and are irresistibly led to put up our vows for, the gallantry and steadfast faith in a just cause, which dare encounter such fearful odds.

But the citadel of Antwerp must fall. However resolute and able the commander-however true, faithful, and brave the garrison—it is certain in the present advanced state of the art of war, that a place which can be approached, must eventually be reduced; and the precise number of hours almost and lives, which its reduction will cost, can be accurately estimated. The flag of Holland then, in any event, will be struck; but the past history of General Chassé, should he persist in the defence, can be little relied on for any thing, if it do not afford a pledge that it will only be amidst the ruins of his fortress, and the slaughtered bodies of its defenders, that the flag of his country will sink. Overwhelmed he may be subdued never-and the noble soldier's career of half a century, could surely find no more glorious or honorable close, than amidst

the fallen bulwarks of the citadel, and while yet the banner of Holland flung defiance to its foes.

Where the fathomless waves in magnificence toss,
Homeless and high soars the wild Albatross-
Unwearied, undaunted, unshrinking, alone,
The occan, his empire-the tempest, his throne.

When the terrible whirlwind raves wild o'er the surge,
And the hurricane howls out the mariner's dirge,
In thy glory thou spurnest the dark-heaving sea,
Proud bird of the ocean-world-homeless and free.

When the winds are at rest, and the sun in his glow,
And the glittering tide sleeps in beauty below,
In the pride of thy power triumphant above
With thy mate thou art holding thy revels of love.

Untir'd, unfetter'd, unwatch'd, unconfin'd,
Be my spirit like thee in the world of the mind,
No leaning for earth e'er to weary its flight,
And fresh as thy pinion in regions of light.

ORCATIA.

HORE GERMANICÆ. NO. II.

FAUST'S curse-it will perhaps be recollected we left him uttering one-was an effusion which we might suppose had been dictated by the very breath of his companion, with the very sulphur of whose lungs it seems to be reeking, and resonant with the voice of the old Adam in his heart, an echo and a token to tell him the dispositions of the speaker are all he could desire. So we may reason-but so he reasons not-he is an indefatigable spirit who still thinks nothing done while aught remains to do. The vices and bad passions of solitude have indeed arrived at their lowest depths; but the world hath lower depths, and he must now plunge his victim into these. He loves, after his fashion of loving, a hermit much, but dissipation more; dissipation, that expressive word, that most pernicious thing, that compendium of all the ways by which a human being can possibly go to-Mephistopheles.

Dissipation! it is the consuming fire, which the fruits of genius, the results of thought and study, and the offspring of early hope and promise, have all passed through to Moloch; it is the category and definition which includes all that is not singleness of purpose, consistency, and perseverance; it is the sieve which we exhaust the springs of our youth to fill, and it divides their precious waters in a thousand streams, and wastes them irretrievably. Through all its varied forms and names it may be traced by its effects; sometimes it is loud and riotous and, so, speedily destructive; sometimes it is gay only, and wide outspread in a great round of unmeaning courtesies and vapid amusements; sometimes with a business-like or studious air, it is full of projects, longings sublime and aspirations high, and the beginnings of ten thousand things that end where they begin; but it is forever the same voracious quicksand swallowing up his life who has no fixed pursuit, who allows himself to mistake the meteor fires that cross his pathway, each in their turn, for pole stars.

In social or in solitary life, in all conditions and pursuits, religious or profane, we walk in this hourly danger; of frittering away our time on many objects, and failing of success in all; for this temptation is a wind the devil blows with

al, and the energies of the mind are scattered. De profundis clamavi, I have cried out of its depths, with a voice of warning, a cry from its loud and hollow gulphs to those that shall come after: but they would not believe the warning, though one came to deliver it from the dead. To them the vortex is attractive, but not to Faust; he has been engaged in high pursuits; he has closed with the giants of mortal sense and intellect, wrestled with them, vanquished them, and proved them shadows, and shall he now be amused with a chase of butterflies? He listens scornfully to the proposal and assents to it recklessly; he has no faith in the results, but then he has no fear, nor care for its consequences. The following is an attempt to translate this dialogue from the point where we left off, where a chorus of invisible spirits breaks in with a sort of reply and expostulatory comment to Faust's anathema.

And presently engage to do

Thy hopes and wishes service true.
Nay, if but thus thou wilt agree,

Thy instrument and bondsman be.

Faust. And what conditions then must I fulfil?

Meph. Oh nothing-for a good long time at least.
Faust. No, no, the Devil is an egoiste,

And not so very prompt from pure good will,
For God's sake thus his neighbor to assist.
Tell the conditions, speak them fairly out,
With such a servant danger comes no doubt.
Meph. I bind myself to thy obedience here,

To know no pause nor rest in serving thee;
And should we meet again in yonder sphere,
Why thou in turn shalt do the same for me.
Faust. Small care for yonder sphere have I.
If this world once in fragments fly,

A new perchance the void may fill;

But let my joys from this their sources borrow,
This sun hath been the witness of my sorrow-
And when I part from these, the morrow

May even bring what chance it will.

I heed not that, nor care to hear

If men hereafter hate or love;

Or if there be in "yonder sphere,"
A part below and part above.

Meph. With views like these what needs delay-
Accept my terms, and even to-day

I shall delight for thee my art to try,
For things unseen till now by mortal eye.

Faust. Poor devil, vain, how vain is all thy art.
Was the high scope of an aspiring heart,
By such a spirit e'er embraced ?

Where are thy fruits that satiate not the taste?
And thy red gold, whose ready haste
Quicksilver-like evades the hand?
Thy games for losing only plann'd?
Thy dames, that from our very arms,

Will wink to catch our neighbor's eye?

And Honor, whose ambitious charms,

Like transient meteors shine and fly?
Show me the fruits that while we grasp them, rot;
And trees whose leaves each morning must renew.

Meph. Reproaches such as these affect me not.