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Wore.'"

pp. 16, 17.

And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour, A valley from the river shore withdrawn When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent, Was Albert's home two quiet woods between, An Indian from his bark approach ineir bow'r," &c. Whose lofty verdure overlook'd his lawn;

pp. 12, 13.

And waters to their resting place serene,

Came, fresh'ning and reflecting all the scene : This is the guide and preserver of young (A mirror in the depth of flowery shelves ;) Henry Waldegrave; who is somewhat fantas- So sweet a spot of earth, you might (I ween) tically described as appearing

Have guess'd some congregation of the elves

To sport by summer moons, had shap'd it for · Led by his dusky guide, like Morning brought themselves."'--p. 27. by Night."

The effect of this seclusion on Gertrude is The Indian tells his story with great anima- beautifully represented. tion—the storming and blowing up of the English fort—and the tardy arrival of his - It seem'd as if those scenes sweet influence had friendly and avenging warriors. They found on Gertrude's soul, and kindness like their own

Inspir'd those eyes affectionate and glad. all the soldiers slaughtered.

That seem'd to love whale'er they look'd upon! " "And from the tree we with her child unbound

Whether with Hebe's mirih her features shone,

Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast,
A lonely mother of ihe Christian land-
Her lord-the captain of the British band-

(As if for heav'nly musing meant alone ;) Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay;

Yet so becomingly the expression past,

That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last. Scarce knew the widow our delivering hand : Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away; Nor guess I, was that Pennsylvanian home, Or shriek'd unto the God to whom the Christians With all its picturesque and balmy grace, pray.-

And fields that were a luxury to roam,

Lost on the soul that look'd from such a face! “Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowls

Enthusiast of the woods! when years apace
Of fever balm, and sweet sagamité;
But she was journeying to the land of souls,

Had bound thy lovely waist with woman's zone, And lifted up her dying head to pray

The sunrise path, at morn. I see thee trace That we should bid an anrient friend convey

To bills with high magnolia overgrown; Her orphan to his home of England's shore;

And joy to breathe the groves, romantic and And lake, she said, this token far away

alone.”—pp. 29, 30. To one that will remember us of yore,

The morning scenery, too, is touched with When he beholds the ring that Waldegrave's Julia

a delicate and masterly hand. Albert recognises the child of his murdered while boatman carollid 10 the fresh-blown air,

" While yet the wild deer trod in spangling dew, friend, with great emotion; which the Indian And woods a horizontal shadow threw, witnesses with characteristic and picturesque And early fox appear’d in momentary view." composure. “ Far differently the Mute Oneyda took

The reader is left rather too much in the His calumet of peace, and cup of joy ;

dark as to Henry's departure for Europe ;As monumental bronze unchang'd his look: nor, indeed, are we apprised of his absence, A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook : till we come to the scene of his unexpected Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier, return. Gertrude was used to spend the hot The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook

part of the day in reading in a lonely and Impassive-fearing but ihe shame of fearA stoic of the woods--a man without a tear.-"

rocky recess in those safe woods; which is

described with Mr. Campbell's usual felicity. This warrior, however, is not without high to human art a sportive semblance wore ;

• Rocks sublime feelings and tender affections.

And yellow lichens colour'd all the clime, “ He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe:

Like moonlight battlements, and towers decayed And ere the wolf-skin on his back he flung,

by time. Or laced his mocasins, in act to go,

“ But high, in amphitheatre above, A song of parting to the boy he sung, Who slepi on Albert's couch, nor heard his friend. Breath'd but an air of heav'n, and all the grove

His arms the everlasting aloes ihrew : ly tongue.

As if instinct with living spirit grew, *** Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming land

Rolling its verdant gulfs of every hue; Should'st thou the spirit of thy mother greet,

And now suspended was the pleasing din, Oh! say, to-morrow, that the white man's hand

Now from a murmur faint it swell'd anew, Hath pluck'd the thorns of sorrow from thy feet;

Like the first note of organ heard within While I in lonely wilderness shall meet

Cathedral aisles-ere yet its symphony begin." Thy little foot-prints-or by traces know The fountain, where at noon I thought it sweet To feed thee with the quarry of my bow,

In this retreat, which is represented as sn And pour'd the lotus-horn, or slew the mountain roe.

solitary, that except her own, Adieu ? sweet scion of the rising sun!'" &c.

scarce an ear had heard pp. 21,

The stock-dove plaining through its gloom profound,

Or winglet of the fairy humming bird, The Second part opens with a fine descrip- Like atoms of the rainbow fluitering round."tion of Albert's sequestered dwelling. It reminds us of that enchanted landscape in which -a stranger of lofty port and gentle manners Thomson has embosomed his Castle of Indo- surprises her, one morning, and is conducted lence. We can make room only for the first to her father. They enter into conversation stanza.

p. 32.

p. 20.

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66

22.

on the subject of his travels.

p. 34.

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" And much they lov'd his fervid strain- And must I change my song? and must I show, While he each fair variety retrac'd

Sweet Wyoming! the day, when thou wert doom'd, Of climes, and manners,'o'er the easiern main. Guiltless, to mourn thy loveliest bow'rs laid low ! Now happy Switzer's hills-romantic Spain- When, where of yesterday a garden bloomid, Gay lilied fields of France-or, more refin'd, Death overspread his pall, and black’ning ashes The soft Ausonia's monumental reign;

gloom'd?Nor less each rural image he design'd, Than all the city's pomp and home of human kind. When Transatlantic Liberty arose;

“Sad was the year, by proud Oppression driv'n, A non some wilder portraiture he draws !

Not in the sunshine, and the smile of heav'n, Of nature's savage glories he would speak

But wrapt in whirlwinds, and begirt with woes : The loneliness of earth that overawes !

Amidst ihe strife of fratricidal foes, Where, resting by some tomb of old cacique Her birih star was the light of burning plains ; The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak,

Her baptism is the weighi of blood that flows Nor voice nor living motion marks around;

From kindred hearts-ihe blood of British veins ! But storks that to the boundless forest shriek; And famine tracks her steps, and pestilential pains !" Or wild-cane arch high flung o'er gulf profound,

pp. 50, 51. That fluctuates when the storms of El Dorado sound."'-pp. 36, 37.

Gertrude's alarm and dejection at the pros

pect of hostilities are well described: Albert, at last, bethinks him of inquiring after his stray ward young Henry; and enter

0, meet not thou,” she cries, "thy kindred foe! tains his guest with a short summary of his But peaceful let us seek fair England's strand," &c. history.

-as well as the arguments and generous "His face the wand'rer hid ;-but could not hide sentiments by which her husband labours to A fear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell!- reconcile her to a necessary evil. The nocAnd speak, mysterious stranger!' (Gertrude cried) turnal irruption of the old Indian is given with It is!-it is! -I knew-I knew him well! 'Tis Waldegrave's self. of Waldegrave come . his appearance, that he was not at first recog

great spirit :-Age and misery had so changed A burst of joy the father's lips declare ; (tell!' But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell :

nised by any of the party. At once his open arms embrac'd the pair ;

"6And hast thou then forgot'--he cried forlorn, Was never group more blest, in this wide world of And ey'd the group with half indignant air), care!”—p. 39

Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn The first overflowing of their joy and art. When I with thee the cup of peace did share ? less love is represented with all the fine Then stately was this head, and dark this hair, colours of truth and poetry; but we cannot But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair,

That now is white as Appalachia's snow ! now make room for it. The Second Part ends And age hath bow'd me, and the tort'ring foe, with this stanza :

Bring me my Boy-and he will his deliverer

know!'" Then would that home admit them-happier far Than grandeur's most magnificent saloon

“It was not long, with eyes and heart of flame, While, here and there, a solitary star

Ere Henry to his lov'd Oneyda flew : (came, Flush'd in the dark'ning firmament of June; * Bless thee, my guide !'-but, backward, as he And silence brought the soul-felt hour full soon, The chief his old bewilder'd head withdrew, Ineffable—which I may not pourtray!

And grasp'd his arm, and look'd and look'd him For never did the Hymenean moon

through. A paradise of hearis more sacred sway,

'Twas strange_nor could the group a smile control, In all that slept beneath her soft voluptuous ray.' The long, the doubtful scrutiny to view :

At last delight o'er all his features stole, (soul. The Last Part sets out with a soft but It is my own!' he cried, and clasp'd him to his spirited sketch of their short-lived felicity. "• Yes! thou recall'st my pride of years; for then “ Three little moons, how short! amidst the grove, When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambush'd

The bow'string of my spirit was not slack, (men, And pastoral savannas they consume !

I bore thee like the quiver on my back, While she, beside her buskin'd youth to rove,

Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack ; Delights. in fancifully wild costume,

Nor foeman then, nor cougar's crouch I fear'd, Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume;

For I was strong as mountain cataract; And forth in hunter-seeming vest they fare; And dost thou not remember how we cheer'd But not to chase the deer in forest gloom !

Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huis ap'Tis but the breath of heav'n-he blessed air

pear'd?'"-pp. 54-56. And interchange of hearts, unknown, unseen to share.

After warning them of the approach of their “What though the sportive dog oft round them note, terrible foe, the conflagration is seen, and the Or fawn, or wild bird bursting on the wing; whoops and scattering shot of the enemy heard Yet who, in love's own presence, would devole at a distance. The motley militia of the To death those gentle throats that wake the spring? neigbourhood flock to the defence of Albert, Or writhing from the brook its victim bring? No!-nor let fear one liule warbler rouse ;

the effect of their shouts and music on the old But, fed by Gerirude's hand, still let them sing,

Indian is fine and striking.
Acquaintance of her path, amidst the boughs,
That shade ev'n now her love, and witness'd first old Outalissi woke his battle song,

" Rous'd by their warlike pomp, and mirth, and her vows."--pp. 48, 49,

(cheer,

And beating with his war-club cadence strong, The transition to the melancholy part of the Tells how his deep-stung indignation smarıs," &c. story is introduced with great tenderness and dignity.

Nor is the contrast of this savage enthusiasm “But mortal pleasure, what art thou in truth? with the venerable composure of Albert less The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below! beautifully represented.

P. 43.

p. 61,

of the poem.

“Calm, opposite the Christian Father rose, In future times-no gentle little one, Pale on his venerable brow its rays

To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me! Of martyr light the conflagration throws;

Yet seems ii, ev'n while life's lası pulses run, One hand upon his lovely child he lays,

A sweetness in the cup of death to be, And one th' uncover'd crowd to silence sways; Lord of my bosom's love! to die beholding thee!' While, though the battle flash is faster driv'nUnaw'd, with eye unstartled by the blaze,

"Husli'd were his Gertrude's lips! but still their

bland He for his bleeding country prays to HeavenPrays that the men of blood ihemselves may be With love that could not die! and still his hand

And beautiful expression seem'd to melt forgiven."'-p. 62.

She presses to the heart no more that tell. They then speed their night march to the Ah heart! where once each fond affecuon dwell,

And features yet that spoke a soul more fair!" distant fort, whose wedged ravelins and redoubts

pp. 64--68.

The funeral is hurried over with pathetic “ Wove like a diadem, its tracery round The lofty summit of that mountain green"- brevity; and the desolate and all-enduring

Indian brought in again with peculiar beauty. and look back from its lofty height on the desolated scenes around them. We will not

“ Touch'd by the music, and the melting scene, separate, nor apologize for the length of the Stern warriors, resting on their swords, were seen

Was scarce one rearless eye amidst the crowd ;fine passage that follows; which alone, we To veil their eyes, as pass'd each much-lov'd think, might justify all we have said in praise

shroud

While woman's softer soul in woe dissolv'd aloud. A scene of death! where fires beneath the sun, " Then mournfully the parting bugle bid And blended arms, and white pavilions glow;

Its farewell o'er the grave ot worth and truth. And for the business of destruction done,

Prone to the dust, afflicied Waldegrave bid Its requiem the war-horn seem'd to blow.

Ilis face on earih ?--Him watch'd in gloomy ruth. There, sad spectatress of her country's woe! His woodland guide; but words had none io sooth The lovely Gertrude, safe from present harm,

The grief that knew not consolation's name! Had laid her cheek, and clasp'd'her hands of snow Casting his Indian mantle o'er the youth, On Waldegrave's shoulder, half within his arm

He waich'd beneath its folds, each burst ihat came Enclos'd, that felt her heart and hush'd its wild Convulsive,ague-like,across his shuddering frame!" alarm!

p. 69. “ But short that contemplation! sad and short After some time spent in this mute and The pause to bid each much-lov'd scene adieu ! awful pause, this stern and heart-struck com. Beneath the very shadow of the fort, (flew, forter breaks out into the following touching Where friendly swords were drawn, and banners and energetic address, with which the poem Ah! who could deem that foot of Indian crew Was near? – Yet there, with lust of murd'rous

closes, with great spirit and abruptness : deeds, Gleam'd like a basilisk, from woods in view,

“And I could weep;'-th' Oneyda chief The ambush'd foeman's eye-his volley speeds!

His descant wildly thus began: And Albert - Albert - falls ! the dear old father

But that I may not slain with grief bleeds!

The death-song of my father's son !

Or bow his head in woe ; “And tranc'd in giddy horror Gertrude swoon'd! For by my wrongs, and by my wrath! Yet, while she clasps him lifeless to her zone, Tomorrow Areouski's breath Say, burs! they, borrow'd from her father's wound, (That fires yon heaven with storms of death) Those drops ?-0 God! the life-blood is her own! Shall light us to the foe: And falt'ring, on her Waldegrave's bosom thrown- And we shall share, my Christian boy! Weep noi, O Love!' – she cries, 'to see me The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy!

bleed Thee, Gertrude's sad survivor, thee alone

"But thee, my flow'r! whose breath was giv'n Heaven's peace commiserate! for scarce I heed

By milder genii o'er the deep, These wounds !-Yet thee to leave is death, is

The spirits of the white man's heav'n death indeed.

Forbid not thee 10 weep!-

Nor will the Christian host, "Clasp me a little longer, on the brink

Nor will thy father's spirii grieve Of fate! while I can feel ihy dear caress;

To see thee, on the baile's eve, And, when this heart haih ceas'd to beat-oh! think, Lamenting take a mournful leave And let it mitigate thy woe's excess,

Of her who lov'd ihee most :
That thou hast been to me all tenderness,

She was the rainbow to thy sight!
And friend to more than human friendship just. Thy sun-ihy heav'n--of losi delighi!-
Oh! by that retrospect of happiness,
And by the hopes of an immortal trust, [dust!

“«To-morrow let us do or die !

But when the bolt of death is hurl'd, God shall assuage thy pangs--when I am laid in

Ah! whither then with thee to fly,
Go, Henry, go not back, when I depart!

Shall Ontalissa roam the world ?
The scene thy bursting tears too deep will move, Seek we ihy once-lov'd home -
Where my dear father took thee to his heart, The hand is gone that cropi iis flowers !
And Gertrude thought it ecstasy to rove

Unheard their clock repeats its hours !
With thee, as with an angel, through the grove Cold is the hearth within their bow'rs!
Of peace-imagining her lot was cast

And should we thither roam,
In heav'n! for ours was not like earthly love! Its echoes, and its empty tread,
And must this parting be our very last ? (past. — Would sound like voices from ihe dead!
No! I shall love thee still, when death itself is

"• But hark, the trump!--to-morrow thou
“Half could I bear, methinks, to leave this earth- In glory's fires shalt dry hy tears:
And thee, more lov'd than aught beneath the sun! Ev'n from the land of shadows now
Could I have liv'd to smile but on the birth

My father's awful ghost appears,
Of one dear pledge !--But shall there then be none, Amidst the clouds that round us roll!

He bids my soul for battle thirst

spirit and pattern of what is before him, we He bids me dry the lası-he firsi

hope he will yet be induced to make considerThe only tears that ever bursi

able additions to a work, which will please From lutalissi's soul!Because I may not stain with grief

those most who are most worthy to be pleased; The death-song of an Indian chief!'”—pp. 70-73. and always seem most beautiful to those whó

give it the greatest share of their attention. It is needless, after these extracts, to en- Of the smaller pieces which fill up the vollarge upon the beauties of this poem. They ume, we have scarce left ourselves room to consist chiefly in the feeling and tenderness say any thing. The greater part of them have of the whole delineation, and the taste and been printed before; and there are probably delicacy with which all the subordinate parts few readers of English poetry who are not alare made to contribute to the general effect. ready familiar with the Lochiel and the HoBefore dismissing it, however, we must say a hinlinden—the one by far the most spirited little of its faults, which are sufficiently ob- and poetical denunciation of coming woe, vious and undeniable. In the first place, the since the days of Cassandra; the other the narrative is extremely obscure and imperfect; only representation of a modern battle, which and has greater blanks in it than could be possesses either interest or sublimity. The tolerated even in lyric poetry. We hear ab- song to “the Mariners of England," is also solutely nothing of Henry, from the day the very generally known. It is a splendid inIndian first brings him from the back country, stance of the most magnificent diction adapted till he returns from Europe fifteen years there to a familiar and even trivial metre. Nothing after. It is likewise a great oversight in Mr. can be finer than the first and the last stanzas. Campbell to separate his lovers, when only twelve years of age-a period at which it is

Ye mariners of England ! utterly inconceivable that any permanent at

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, tachment could have been formed. The

The ballle, and the breeze! greatest fault, however, of the work, is the

Your glorious standard launch again occasional constraint and obscurity of the dic- To match another foe ! tion, proceeding apparently from too laborious And sweep through the deep," &c.-p. 101. an effort at emphasis or condensation. The

". The meteor flag of England metal seems in several places to have been

Shall yet terrific burn; so much overworked, as to have lost not only Till danger's troubled night depart, its ductility, but its lustre; and, while there And the star of peace return. are passages which can scarcely be at all un- Then, then, ye ocean warriors ! derstood after the most careful consideration,

Our song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name, there are others which have an air so elaborate

When the storm has ceas'd to blow; and artificial, as to destroy all appearance

of When the fiery fight is heard no more, nature in the sentiment. Our readers may And the storm has ceas'd to blow."-pp. 103, 104. have remarked something of this sort, in the first extracts with which we have presented it has been printed before, is much less known.

" The Battle of the Baltic,” though we think them; but there are specimene still more exceptionable. In order to inform us that Albert Though written in a strange, and we think an had lost his wife, Mr. Campbell is pleased to grandeur, both of conception and expression

and that sort of force and grandeur which results " Fate had reft his mutual heart;" from the simple and concise expression of and in order to tell us something else—though great events and natural emotions, altogether what, we are utterly unable to conjecture- unassisted by any splendour or amplification he concludes a stanza on the delights of mu- of expression. The characteristic merit, intual love, with these three lines :

deed, both of this piece and of Hohinlinden,

is, that, by the forcible delineation of one or "' Roll on, ye days of raptur’d influence, shine ? two great circumstances, they give a clear

Nor, blind with ecstasy's celestial fire, {pire.' and most energetic representation of events Shall love behold the spark of earth-born time ex

as complicated as they are impressive-and The whole twenty-second stanza of the first thus impress the mind of the reader with all part is extremely incorrect; and the three the terror and sublimity of the subject, while concluding lines are almost unintelligible. they rescue him from the fatigue and perplex

ity of its details. Nothing in our judgment ". But where was I when Waldegrave was no

can be more impressive than the following And thou didst pale thy gentle head extend,

very short and simple description of the British In woes. that ev’n the tribe of deserts was thy fleet bearing up to close action : friend !'"

"As they drifted on their path, If Mr. Campbell had duly considered the There was silence deep as death!

And the boldest held his breath primary necessity of perspicuity-especially

For a time.--"-p. 109. in compositions which aim only at pleasingwe are persuaded that he would never have The description of the battle itself (though it left these and some other passages in so very begins with a tremendous line) is in the same questionable a state. There is still a good spirit of homely sublimity; and worth a thoudeal for him to do, indeed, in a new edition : sand stanzas of thunder, shrieks, shouts, triand working--as he must work—in the true dents, and heroes. 45

2 E 2

say, that

more?

scorn,

Hearts of oak,' our captains cried! when | When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in
From its adamantine lips

(each gun
Spread a death-shade round the ships ! 'Twas the youth who had lov'd the fair Ellen of
Like the hurricane eclipse

Lorn: of the sun. “ Again! again! again!

“I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,

I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief;
And the havoc did not slack,
Till a feebler cheer the Dane

On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
To our cheering sent us back ;-

Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'
Their shots along the deep slowly boom :-

“In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground, Then cease !-and all is wail,

And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found; As they strike the shaiter'd sail ;

From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne,
Or, in conflagration pale,

Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!"
Light the gloom.-

pp. 105-107. There are two little ballad pieces, published for the first time, in this collection, which

We close this volume, on the whole, with have both very considerable merit , and afford feelings of regret for its shortness, and of ad

There a favourable specimen of Mr. 'Campbell's miration for the genius of its author. powers in this new line of exertion. The are but two noble sorts of poetry—the pathetic longest is the most beautiful; but we give our and the sublime; and we think he has given readers the shortest, because we can give it very extraordinary proofs of his talents for

both. There is something, too, we will venentire.

ture to add, in the style of many of his con“ O heard ye yon pibrach sound sad in the gale,

ceptions, which irresistibly impresses us with Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail? the conviction, that he can do much greater And her sire, and the people, are called to her bier. things than he has hitherto accomplished;

and leads us to regard him, even yet, as a * Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud ; Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mournd not aloud : It seems to us, as if the natural force and

poet

of still greater promise than performance. They march'd all in silence-they look'd on the boldness of his ideas were habitually checked ground.

by a certain fastidious timidity, and an anxi. " In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor. ety about the minor graces of correct and To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and chastened composition. Certain it is, at least, hoar;

that his greatest and most lofty flights have Now here let us place the grey stone of her cairn: been made in those smaller pieces, about • Why speak ye no word ?'—said Glenara the stern. which, it is natural to think, he must have

And tell me, I charge you! ye clan of my spouse, felt least solicitude; and that he has sucWhy fold you your mantles, why cloud ye your ceeded most splendidly where he must have brows ?'

been most free from the fear of failure. We So spake the rude chieftain :-no answer is made, But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.

wish any praises or exhortations of ours had

the power to give him confidence in his own ***I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,' Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and great talents; and hope earnestly, that he will loud;

now meet with such encouragement, as may * And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem;

set him above all restraints that proceed from Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!' apprehension; and induce him to give free "O! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, scope to that genius, of which we are per. When the shroud was unclos'd, and no lady was

suaded that the world has hitherto seen rather seen;

the grace than the richness.

( I anuary, 1825.)

Theodric, a Domestic Tale : with other Poems. By Thomas CAMPBELL. 12mo. pp. 150.

London : 1824.

If Mr. Campbell's poetry was of a kind those relics to which it excludes the possithat could be forgotten, his long fits of silence bility of any future addition. At all events, would put him fairly in the way of that mis- he has better proof of the permanent interest fortune. But, in truth, he is safe enough ;- the public take in his productions, than those and has even acquired, by virtue of his ex- ever can have who are more diligent in their emplary laziness, an assurance and pledge of multiplication, and keep themselves in the immortality, which he could scarcely have recollection of their great patron by more freobtained without it. A writer who is still quent intimations of their existence. The fresh in the mind and favour of the public, experiment, too, though not without its hazafter twenty years' intermission, may reason- ards, is advantageous in another respect ;- for ably expect to be remembered when death the re-appearance of such an author, after shall have finally sealed up the fountains of those long periods of occultation, is naturally his inspiration; imposed silence on the cavils hailed as a novelty-and he receives the of envious rivals, and enhanced the value of double welcome, of a celebrated stranger, and

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