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“ The same fond mother bent at night
In a young blighted spirit! Manhood rears
A haughty brow; and Age has done with tears; She had each folded Hower in sight,
But Youth bows down to miskry, in amaze
At the dark cloud o'ermantling its fresh days, “ One, midst the forests of the West,
And thus it was with her. A mournful sight By a dark sıream is laid,
In one so fair-for she indeed was fairThe Indian knows his place of rest,
Not with her mother's dazzling eyes of light. Far in the cedar shade.
Hers were more shadowy, full of thought and " The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one!
And with long lashes o'er a white rose cheek, He lies where pearls lie deep:
Drooping in gloom, yet tender still and meek. He was the lov'd of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
“One sunny morn, “ One sleeps where southern vines are drest
With alms before her castle gate she stood, Above the noble slain :
Midst peasant-groups; when, breathless and o'er. He wrapt his colours round his breast,
worn, On a blood-red field of Spain.
And shrouded in long robes of widowhood, “ And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
A stranger through them broke :-The orphan maid
With her sweet voice, and proffer'd hand of aid, Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd;
Turn'd to give welcome: But a wild sad look She faded 'midst Italian flowers,
Met hers; a gaze that all her spirit shook;
And that pale woman, suddenly subdued “ And parted thus they rest, who play'd By some strong passion in its gushing mood, Beneath the same green tree!
Knelt at her feet, and bath'd them with such tears Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
As rain the hoarded agonies of years (press'd Around one parent knee!
From the heart's urn; and with her white lips • They that with smiles lit up the hall,
The ground they irode; then, burying in her vest And cheer'd with song the hearth, - Her brow's deep flush, sobb'd out — Oh! un. Alas! for Love, if thou wert all,
defil'd! And nought beyond, oh earth!!)
I am thy Mother-spurn me not, my child !
“ Isaure had pray'd for that lost mother; wept We have taken these pieces chiefly on ac- O'er her stain’d memory, while the happy slepi count of their shortness : But it would not be In the hush'd midnight; stood with mournful gaze fair to Mrs. Hemans not to present our readers Before yon picture's smile of other days, with one longer specimen-and to give a por- But never breath'd in human ear the name tion of her graceful narrative along with her which weigh'd her being to the earth with shame.
What marvel if the anguish, the surprise, pathetic descriptions. This story of “The The dark remembrances, the alter'd guise, Lady of the Castle,” is told, we think, with Awhile o'erpower'd her ?—from the weeper's touch great force and sweetness :
She shrank ! -'Twas but a momeni-yet too much
For that all-humbled one ; its mortal siroke “ Thou seest her pictur'd with her shining hair,
Came down like lighıning, and her full heart broke (Fam'd were those tresses in Provençal song) At once in silence. Heavily and prone Half braided, half o'er cheek and bosom fair
She sank, while, o'er her castle's threshold-stone, Let loose, and pouring sunny waves along Those long fair tresses-they still brightly wore Her gorgeous vest. A child's right hand is roving Their early pride, though bound with pearls no 'Midst the rich curls, and, oh! how meekly loving Its earvest looks are lifted to the face,
Bursting their fillet, in sad beauty rollid, Which bends to meet iis lip in laughing grace! And swept the dust with coils of wavy gold. Yet that bright lady's eye merhinks hath less “Her child bent o'er her-call'd her 'Twas Of deep, and still, and pensive tenderness,
too late Than might beseem a mother's: On her brow
Dead lay the wanderer at her own proud gate! Something 100 much there sits of native scorn,
The joy of courts, the star of knight and bard. And her smile kindles with a conscious glow: (tell How didst thou fall, O bright-hair'd Ermengarde !" -- These may be dreams! But how shall Woman Of woman's shame, and not with tears?-She fell! The following sketch of " Joan of Arc in That mother left that child !-went hurrying by
Rheims," is in a loftier and more ambitious Its cradle—haply not without a sigh; Haply one moment o'er its rest serene
vein; but sustained with equal grace, and as She hung—But no! it could not thus have been,
touching in its solemn tenderness. We can For she went on !—forsook her home, her hearth, afford to extract but a part of it :All pure affection, all sweet household mirth,
· Within, the light, To live a gaudy and dishonour'd thing, Sharing in guili the splendours of a king.
Through the rich gloom of piciurid windows
flowing: “Her lord, in very weariness of life,
Tinged with soft awfulness a stately sight, Girt on his sword for scenes of distant strife;
The chivalry of France, their proud heads bowing He reck'd no more of Glory :-Grief and shame In martial vassalage !--while 'midst the ring, Crush'd out his fiery nature, and his name
And shadow'd by ancestral tombs, a king Died silently. A shadow o'er his halls
Received his birthright's crown. For this, the hymo Crept year by year; the minstrel pass'd their walls; Swell'd out like rushing waters, and the day The warder's horn hung mute : - - Meantime the With the sweet censer's misty breath grew dim, child,
As through long aisles it floated, o'er th' array On whose first flow'ring thoughts no parent smil'd, Of arms and sweeping stoles. But who, alone A gentle girl, and yet deep-hearted, grew
And unapproach'd, beside the altar stone, (ing, Into sad youth: for well, ioo well she knew With the white banner, forth like sunshine stream. Her mother's tale! Its memory made the sky And the gold helm, through clouds of fragrance Seem all too joyous for her shrinking eye;
gleaming, Check'd on her lip the flow of song, which fain Silent and radiani stood ?—The helm was rais'd, Would there have linger’d; flush'd her cheek to And the fair face reveal'd, that upward gaz'd, If met by sudden glance; and gave a tone [pain, Intensely worshipping ;-a still, clear face, Of sorrow, as for something lovely gone,
Youthful but brighily solemn!-Woman's cheek Even to the spring's glad voice. Her own was low And brow were ihere, in deep devotion meek, And plaintive!-Oh! there lie such depth of woes Yet glorified with inspiration's trace !
“A triumphant strain,
" There went a swift bird singing past my cellA proud rich stream of warlike melodies,
O Love and Freedom! ye are lovely things! Gush'd through the portals of ihe antique fane, With you the peasant on the hills may dwell, And forth she came.'
And by the streams; But I—the blood of kings, "The shouts that fill'd
A proud unmingling river, through my veins The hollow heaven tempestuously, were still'd
Flows in lone brightness,--and its
gifts are chains ! One moment; and in that brief pause, the tone,
-Kings !- I had silent visions of deep bliss, As of a breeze that o'er her home had blown,
Leaving their thrones far distant! and for this Sank on the bright maid's heart !- Joanne !'
I am cast under their triumphal car,
An insect to be crush'd !
There would be rescue if this were not so. Under one roof ?- Joanne !'-thal murmur broke Thou’rt at the chase, thou’rt at the festive board, With sounds of weeping forth !-She turnid Thou’rt where the red wine free and high is pour’d, she knew
Thou’rı where the dancers meet !--a magic glass Beside her, mark'd from all the thousands there, Is set within my soul, and proud shapes pass, In the calm beauty of his silver bair,
Flushing it o’er with pomp from bower and hall ! The stately shepherd ! and the youth, whose joy I see one shadow, stateliest ihere of all,-From his dark eye flash'd proudly; and the boy, Thine!—What dosi Thou amidst the bright and fair, The youngest-born, that ever lov'd her best!
Whisp'ring light words, and mocking my despair ?" * Father! and ye my brothers !'-On the breast Of that grey sire she sank-and swiftly back, The following, though it has no very distinct Even in an instant, to the native track (more! object or moral, breathes, we think, the very Her free thoughts flow'd.--She saw the pomp no The plumes, the banners !—To her cabin door,
spirit of poetry, in its bright and vague picAnd to the Fairy's Fountain in the glade,
turings, and is well entitled to the name it Where her young sisters by her side had play'd,
bears—"An Hour of Romance :'And 10 the hamlet's chapel, where it rose Hallowing the forest into deep repose,
" There were thick leaves above me and around, Her spirit turn'd. -The very wood-note, sung,
And low sweet sighs, like those of childhood's In early spring-time by the bird, which dwelt Amidst their dimness, and a fitful sound (sleep, Where o'er her father's roof the beech-leaves hung. Lay the oak shadows o'er the turf, so still
As of soft showers on water! Dark and deep Was in her heart; a music heard and felt, Winning her back to nature !-She unbound They seem'd bur pictur'd glooms: a hidden rill The helm of many battles from her head,
Made music, such as haunts us in a dream, And, with her bright locks bow'd to sweep the Under the fern-tufts: and a tender gleam ground,
Of soft green light, as by the glow-worm shed, Lifting her voice up, wept for joy, and said, - Came pouring thro’ ihe woven beech-boughs "Bless ine, my father, bless me! and with thee, And steep'd ihe magic page wherein I read (down, To the still cabin and the beechen-tree,
Of royal chivalry and old renown; Let me return !'”
A tale of Palestine.- Meanwhile the bee
Swept past me with a tone of summer hours, There are several strains of a more passion- A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers, ate character; especially in the two poetical Blue skies and amber sunshine : brightly free, epistles from Lady Arabella Stuart and Pro-On filmy wings the purple dragon-fly perzia Rossi. We shall venture to give a few Shot glancing like a fairy javelin by; lines from the former. The Lady Arabella And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dell
Where sat the lone wood-pigeon : was of royal descent; and having excited the
But ere long, fears of our pusillanimous James by a secret All sense of these things faded, as the spell union with the Lord Seymour, was detained Breathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strong in a cruel captivity, by that heartless monarch,
On my chain'd soul!—T'was not the leaves I
[heard till the close of her life-during which she is A Syrian wind the Lion-banner stirr'd, supposed to have indited this letter to her Thro' is proud, floating folds ! -'iwas not the
Singing in secret thro’ its grassy glen ;- [brook, lover from her prison house :
A wild shrill trumpet of ihe Saracen “ My friend, my friend! where are thou? Day by Peal'd from the desert's lonely heart, and shook day,
The burning air !-Like clouds when winds are Gliding, like some dark mournful stream, away,
O'er glitt'ring sands flew steeds of Araby; [high, My silent youth flows from me! Spring, the while, And tents rose up, and sudden lance and spear
Comes, and rains beauty on the kindling boughs | Flash'd where a fountain's diamond wave lay clear, Round hall and hamlet : Summer, with her smile, Shadow'd by graceful palm-trees! Then the shout Fills the green forest ;-young hearts breathe Of merry England's joy swell’d freely out, their vows;
Sent thro' an Eastern heaven, whose glorious hue Brothers, long parted, meet; fair children rise
Made shields dark mirrors to its depth of blue! Round the glad board : Hope laughs from loving And harps were there ;-I heard their sounding
As the waste echo'd to the mirth of kings.“ Ye are from dingle and fresh glade, ye flowers ! The bright masque faded !-Unto life's worn track,
By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent; What call'd me from its flood of glory back ? O'er you the oak shed down the summer showers, A voice of happy childhood !-and they passid, And the lark's nest was where your bright cups Banner, and harp, and Paynim trumpet's blast bent,
Yet might I scarce bewail the splendours gone, Quivering to breeze and rain-drop, like the sheen My heart so leap'd 10 that sweet laughter's tone." Of twilight stars. On you Heaven's eye hath been, Through the leaves pouring its dark sultry blue There is great sweetness in the following - Into your glowing hearts; the bee to you portion of a little poem on a “Girl's School :”— Hath murmur'd, and the rill.--My soul grows faint With passionate yearning, as its quick dreanis paint" Oh! joyous creatures ! that will sink to rest, Your haunts by dell and stream,--the green, the Lightly, when those pure orisons are done, free,
As birds with slumber's honey-dew opprest, The full of all sweet sound,--the shut from me! 'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low, the temptation of noting down every beautiful
Is Woman's tenderness-how soon her woe ! passage which arrests us in turning over the “Her look is on you-silent tears to weep, [hour ; leaves of the volumes before us. We ought
And patient smiles to wear, through sufføring's to recollect, too, that there are few to whom And sumless riches, from affection's deep, our pages are likely to come, who are not To pour on broken reeds a wasted show'r!
already familiar with their beauties; and, in And to make idols, -and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship !--therefore pray!
fact, we have made these extracts, less with
the presumptuous belief that we are indica “ Her lot is on you! to be found untird,
ducing Mrs. Hemans for the first time to the Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
knowledge or admiration of our readers, ihan With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspir’d,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be'vain; from a desire of illustrating, by means of Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, them, that singular felicity in the choice and And, oh! 10 Love through all things!-there- employment of her imagery, of which we fore pray!"
have already spoken so much at large ;-that There is a fine and stately solemnity, too, world of sense and of soul—that delicate
fine accord she has established between the in these lines on "The Lost Pleiad ::
blending of our deep inward emotions with “ Hath the night lost a gem, the regal night? their splendid symbols and emblems without.
She wears her crown of old magnificence, We have seen too much of the perishable Though thou arı exiled thence
nature of modern literary fame, to venture to No deserı seeins to part ihose urns of light, ”Midst the far depihs of purple gloom iniense. predict to Mrs. Hemans ihat hers will be im.
mortal, or even of very long duration. Since They rise in joy, the starry myriads, burning- the beginning of our critical career we have The shepherd greets them on his mountains seen a vast deal of beautiful poetry pass into And from the silvery sea
(free; To them the sailor's wakeful eye is turning
oblivion, in spite of our feeble efforts to recall Unchang'd they rise; they have not mourn'a or retain it in remembrance. The tunelul for thee!
quartos of Southey are already little better “Couldst thou be shaken from thy radiant place,
than lumber:- and the rich melodies of E'en as a dew-drop from the myrıle spray,
Keats and Shelley, -and the fantastical em. Swept by the wind away ?
phasis of Wordsworth, -and the plebeian Wert thou not peopled by some glorious race ? pathos of Crabbe, are melting fast from the
And was there power to smite them with decay? field of our vision. The novels of Scoit have “ Then who shall talk of thrones, of scepires riv'n? put out his poetry. Even the splendid strains
Bow'd be our hearts to think on what we are ! of Moore are fading into distance and dim. When from its height afar
ness, except where they have been married A World sinks thus--and yon majestic heav'n to immortal music; and the blazing star of
Shines not the less for that one vanish'd star!" Byron himself is receding from its place of The following, on “The Dying Improvisa- pride. We need say nothing of Milman, and tore," have a rich lyrical cadence, and glow Croly, and Atherstone, and Hood, and a legion of deep feeling :
of others, who, with no ordinary gifts of taste
and fancy, have not so properly survived their • Never, oh! never more, On thy Rome's purple heaven mine eye shall dwell, from what seemed their just inheritance. The
fame, as been excluded by some hard fatality, Or watch the bright waves melt along thy shoreMy Italy, farewell!
two who have the longest withstood this rapid “ Alas!-thy hills among,
withering of the laurel, and with the least Had I but left a memory of my name,
marks of decay on their branches, are Rogers Of love and grief one deep, true, fervent song,
and Campbell ; neither of them, it may be reUnto immortal fame!
marked, voluminous writers, and both dis"! But like a lute's brief tone,
tinguished rather for the fine taste and conLike a rose-odour on the breezes cast,
summate elegance of their writings, than for Like a swift flush of dayspring, seen and gone,
that fiery passion, and disdainful vehemence, So hath my spirit pass'd!
which seemed for a time to be so much more " Yet, yet remember me !
in favour with the public. Friends! that upon its murmurs oft have hung, If taste and elegance, however, be titles to When from my bosom, joyously and free, enduring fame, we might venture securely to The fiery fountain sprung!
promise that rich boon to the author before “ Under the dark rich blue
us; who adds to those great merits a tenderOf midnight heav'ns, and on the star-lit sea, ness and loftiness of feeling, and an ethereal And when woods kindle into spring's first hue, purity of sentiment, which could only emaSweet friends! remember me!
nate from the soul of a woman. She must " And in the marble halls,
beware, however, of becoming too voluminWhere life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear, ous; and must not venture again on anything And poet-thoughis embodied light the walls,
so long as the “Forest Sanctuary." But
, if Let me be with you there!
the next generation inherits our taste for short " Fain would I bind, for you, My memory with all glorious things to dwell;
poems, we are persuaded it will not readily Fain bid all lovely sounds my name renew
allow her to be forgotten. For we do not Sweet friends! bright land ! farewell!"
hesitate to say, that she is, beyond all com;
parison, the most touching and accomplished But we must stop here. There would be writer of occasional verses that our literature no end of our extracts, if we were to yield to l has yet boast of...
PHILOSOPHY OF THE MIND,
METAPHYSICS, AND JURISPRUDENCE.
I am aware that the title prefixed to this head or Division of the present publication, is not likely to attract many readers; and, for this reason, I have put much less under it, than under any of the other divisions. But, having been at one time more addicted to the studies to whịch it relates than to any other and still confessing to a certain partiality for them-I could not think of letting this collection of old speculations go forth to the world, without some specimen of those which once found so much favour in my eyes.
I will confess, too, that I am not unwilling to have it known that, so long ago as 1804, I adventured to break a spear (and I trust not quite ingloriously) in these perilous lists, with two such redoubted champions as Jeremy Bentham and Dugald Stewart, then in the maturity of their fame; and also to assail, with equal gallantry, what appeared to me the opposite errors of the two great Dogmatical schools of Priestley and of Reid.
I will venture also to add, that on looking back on what I have now reprinted of these early lucubrations, I cannot help indulging a fond, though probably delusive expectation, that the brief and familiar exposition I have there attempted, both of the fallacy of the Materialist theory, and of the very moderate practical value that can be assigned to Metaphysical discussions generally, and especially of the real shallowness and utter insignificance of the thorough-going Scepticism (even if unanswerable) to which they have been supposed to lead, may be found neither so tedious, nor so devoid of interest even to the general reader, as the mere announcement of the subjects might lead him to apprehend.
(April, 1804.) Traités de Législation Civile et Pénale; précédés de Principes Généraux de Législation, et d'une Vue d'un Corps complet de Droit; terminés par un Essai sur l'influence des Tems et des Lieux relativement aux Lois. Par M. JÉRÉMIE BENTHAM, Jurisconsulte Anglois. Publiés en François par M. Dumont de Genève, d'après les Manuscrits confiés par l'Auteur. 8vo. 3 tom. Paris, an X. 1802.
The title-page of this work exhibits a curi- | While the author displayed, in many places, ous instance of the division of labour; and of great originality and accuracy of thinking, and the combinations that hold together the lite- gave proofs throughout of a very uncommon rary commonwealth of Europe.. A living degree of courage, acuteness, and impartiality, author consents to give his productions to the it was easy to perceive that he was encumworld in the language of a foreign editor; and bered with the magnitude of his subject, and the speculations of an English philosopher are that his habits of discussion were but ill published at Paris, under the direction of a adapted to render it popular with the greater redacteur from Geneva. This arrangement is part of his readers. "Though fully possessed not the most obvious or natural in the world; of his subject, he scarcely ever appeared to nor is it very flattering to the literature of this be properly the master of it; and seemed evicountry; but we have no doubt that it was dently to move in his new career with great adopted for sufficient reasons.
anxiety and great exertion. In the subordiIt is now about fifteen years since Mr. nate details of his work, he is often extremely Bentham first announced to the world his de- ingenious, clear, and satisfactory; but in the sign of composing a great work on the Prin- grouping and distribution of its several parts, ciples of morals and legislation. The specimen he is apparently irresolute or capricious; and which he then gave of his plan, and of his has multiplied and distinguished ihem by such abilities, was calculated, we think, to excite a profusion of divisions and subdivisions, that considerable expectation, and considerable the understanding is nearly as much bewil. alarm, in the reading part of the com nity. I dered from the excessive labour and com
plexity of the arrangement, as it could have | Bentham's system depends is, that Utility, been from its absolute omission. In following and utility alone, is the criterion of right and out the discussions into which he is tempted wrong, and ought to be the sole object of the by every incidental suggestion, he is so anxi- legislator. This principle, he admits, has ous to fix a precise and appropriate principle often been suggested, and is familiarly recur. of judgment, that he not only loses sight of red to both in action and deliberation ; but he the general scope of his performance, but maintains that it has never been followed out pushes his metaphysical analysis to a degree with sufficient steadiness and resolution, and of subtlety and minuteness that must prove that the necessity of assuming it as the exclurepulsive io the greater part of his readers. In sive test of our proceedings has never been the extent and the fineness of those specula- sufficiently understood. There are two printions, he sometimes appears to lose all recol- ciples, he alleges, that have been admitied to lection of his subject, and often seems to have a share of that moral authority which belongs tasked his ingenuity to weave snares for his of right to utility alone, and have exercised a understanding
control over the conduct and opinions of soThe powers and the peculiarities which ciety, by which legislators have been very were thus indicated by the preliminary trea- frequently misled. One of these he denomitise, were certainly such as to justify some nates the Ascetic principle, or that which ensolicitude as to the execution of the principal joins the mortification of the senses as a duty; work. While it was clear that it would be and proscribes their gratification as a sin ; and well worth reading, it was doubtful if it would the other, which has had a much more extenbe very fit for being read: and while it was sive influence, he calls the principle of Symcertain that it would contain many admirable pathy or Antipathy; under which name he remarks, and much original reasoning, there comprehends all ihose systems which place was room for apprehending that the author's the basis of morality in ihe indications of a love of method and metaphysics might place moral Sense, or in the maxims of a rule of his discoveries beyond the reach of ordinary Right; or which, under any other form of ex. students, and repel the curiosity which the pression, decide upon the propriety of human importance of the subject was so likely to ex- actions by any reference to internal feelings, cite. Actuated probably, in part, by the con- and not solely on a consideration of their consciousness of those propensities (which nearly sequences. disqualified him from being the editor of his As utility is thus assumed as the test and own speculations), and still too busily occu- standard of action and approbation, and as it pied with the prosecution of his great work consists in procuring pleasure and avoiding to attend to the nice finishing of its parts, Mr. pain, Mr. Bentham has thought it necessary Bentham, about six years ago, put into the in this place, to introduce a catalogue of all hands of M. Dumont a large collection of the pleasures and pains of which he conceives manuscripts, containing the greater part of man to be susceptible; since these, he alleges. the reasonings and observations which he are the elements of that moral calculation in proposed to embody into his projected sys- which the wisdom and the duty of legislators tem. These materials, M. Dumont assures and individuals must ultimately be found to us, though neither arranged nor completed, consist. The simple pleasures of which man were rather redundant than defective in quan- is susceptible are fourteen, it seems, in num. tity; and left nothing to the redacteur, but the ber; and are thus enumerated—1. pleasures occasional labour of selection, arrangement, of sense : 2. of wealth: 3. of dexterity : 4. of and compression. This task he has performed, good character: 5. of friendship: 6. of power: as to a considerable part of the papers entrust- 7. of piety: 8. of benevolence: 9. of maleroed to him, in the work now before us; and lence : 10. of memory: 11. of imagination : has certainly given a very fair specimen both 12. of hope: 13. of association: 14. of relief of the merit of the original speculations, and from pain. The pains, our readers will be of his own powers of expression and distribu- happy to hear, are only eleven ; and are al. tion. There are some passages, perhaps, into most exactly the counterpart of the pleasures which a degree of levity has been introduced that have now been enumerated. The conthat does not harmonise with the general tone struction of these catalogues, M. Dumont conof the composition ; and others in which we siders as by far the greatest improvement that miss something of that richness of illustration has yet been made in the philosophy of huand hornely vigour of reasoning which de- man nature ! lighted us in Mr. Bentham's original publica- It is chiefly by the fear of pain that men tions; but, in point of neatness and perspicuity, are regulated in the choice of their deliberate conciseness and precision, we have no sort of actions; and Mr. Bentham finds that pain doubt that M. Dumont has been of the most may be attached to particular actions in four essential service to his principal; and are in different ways: 1. by nature : 2. by public clined to suspect that, without this assistance, opinion: 3. by positive enactment: and 4. by we should never have been able to give any the doctrines of religion. Our institutions will account of his labours.*
be perfect when all these different sanctions The principle upon which the whole of Mr. are in harmony with each other. A considerable portion of the original paper task remains. In order to make any use of
But the most difficult part of our author's is here omitted; and those parts only retained, which relate to 'he general principle and scope of those “elements of moral arithmetic, which the system.
are constituted, by the lists of our pleasures