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of CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

By WASHINGTON IRVING.

This work will, we are persuaded, give Mr. Washington Irving a prodigious increase of fame. The novelty of fact exhibited will command wonder-only to be explained by the circumstances which have given the author access to public as well as private archives, hitherto a fountain shut up, and a book sealed.' The chaste and nervous elegance of the style, and the liberal and truly philosophical cast of thought and sentiment, are what no one need be surprised with, who has read some of his previous writings; but this performance is every way a more elaborate one than any of those, and of higher pretensions-pretensions which we have no doubt the world will pronounce to be justified in the result. To throw an air of total novelty on a theme of ancient interest-to write a history, where previously there had been only memoires pour servir— such has been our American countryman's proud attempt; and with unmingled pleasure do we contemplate the fruit of his long and arduous labours.-Literary Gazette, Feb. 2.

'Nothing can be more elegant and pleasant than the style in which the history is written. It is simple, unaffected, and sometimes even eloquent. The circumstances are related with a modest enthusiasm, which is justified by the subject, and in that perfectly good taste which makes the narrative extremely agreeable.'-Times.

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The MORNING and EVENING SACRIFICE; or, Prayers for Private Persons and Families. FIFTH EDITION. 78. 6d. boards. Just published,

ARY HARLAND; or, the Journey to Lon

MARY

don. A Tale of Humble Life. By a LADY; 18mo.; with a beautiful Frontispiece and Vignette. 4s. bound in cloth. 'This is a very touching tale of seduction, lonely anguish, and repentance. The heroine belongs to the lower classes; and her story may be of much use to young persons, like her, in the station of servants, while it must interest the feelings of readers both in high and humble life.'-New Monthly Maga'zine.

'The description ol Mary's return to her native village pos. sesses much nature and feeling: her taking leave is also well described, and is illustrated by an exquisite wood-engraving.' -London Magazine.

This is an unpretending but excellent little work, and should be put into the hands of every young female in humble life, proceeding to London in search of employment. It is full of good advice and useful information, and is written in that simple aud interesting manuer in which works of this-nature should always be composed.'-London Weekly Review.

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THE

Shortly will be published, in 12mo., with Plates, price 8s. bds., HE FIRST LINES of PHILOSOPHICAL and EXPERIMENTAL CHEMISTRY, including the Recent Discoveries and Improvements in that science. By J. S. FORSYTH, author of the Medical Pocket-book, &c. &c. Also, by the same Author,

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HE ART of INVIGORATING and PROTHE ART OF

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This is a novel of great and peculiar merit..... These extracts will serve as an example of the way in which the work is written; but they can convey no idea of the amusement to be derived from it. We therefore advise our readers to get the book itself, and are sure they will thank us for directing them to a companion so clever and vivacious.-London Weekly Re

view.

We follow the author, in his progress with feelings of no small satisfaction. Penelope is in fact a sort of scarification of ordinary society, bloated as it is with pride, warped with selfishness, and corrupted by hypocrisy and malice.'-Atlas.

The novel before us is among the very best that have appeared for the last few years. The portraits of Penelope's uncle, of the Rector of Neverden, of Colonel Crop, and Sir George Ain well, a sporting baronet and poacher-killing Magistrate, have not been excelled even by the pencil of Fielding. We have no doubt that this very admirable novel will obtain considerable popularity-and a popularity of the best kind, as it will be derived from the lasting pleasure with which works of fiction are read, when they present close drawn pictures of human life and character.'-Athenæum.

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HE ORIENTAL HERALD

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'The Artist has succeeded in presenting a very faithful delineation of an engaging female undressing, without betraying any thing at which the most chaste could take offence. The countenance is full of innocence and sweetness, the attitude natural and graceful, and the execution of the engraving is most skilfully done.'-Athenæum.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PASSES OF THE ALPS.
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Valteline.)

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No. 29.

London Literary and Critical Journal.

LONDON, WEDNESDAY, MAY 14, 1828.

ORIGIN AND CHARACTER OF THE MODERN
ELEGY.

[Communicated for The Athenæum, by M. Tissot, Member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres, and late

Professor of Latin Poetry at the College of France.-V. p. 415.] THE province of elegiac composition has been cultivated with equal care and assiduity by the moderns, as by the writers of antiquity. During the early ages of the Church, Lactantius and St. Ambrose composed elegies on the passion of Christ; Victorinus sang the martyrdom of the Maccabees; and Prudentius celebrated, in strains of pity, the holy heroes that shed their blood for the faith. In more modern times, the artless compositions of the Troubadours that have come down to us, betray a character of natural and plaintive melancholy which equally charms and melts the heart. Afterwards, when the modern tongues of Europe were divested of the rust of the Middle Ages, when the dawn of learning began to re-appear after a night of seemingly interminable length, the imaginations of the poets were deeply impressed with a tinge of pathos and melancholy displayed in their compositions, which seem to assign them over to the elegiac tribe.

perior merit. We cannot, however, enlarge on a species of composition which belongs to the ruder efforts of the art. The first poet regarded by the Spaniards as a classic model, is Juan Boscan Almogaver, who, like his friend Garcilasso de la Vega, imitated the poets of Italy. Boscan, especially, imitates Petrarch, but with a greater degree of energy and animation of style. He frequently exhibits the correctness, though not the harmony, of the Tuscan bard. Garcilasso, also, is an imitator of the poet of Vaucluse, and, by his delicacy, grace, and fancy, surpasses Boscan in approximating to their mutual model. The literature of Spain contains many other poets who have written elegies; and among them we meet, not without some surprise, with the most fruitful and indefatigable of all dramatic authors, Lopez de Vega. The sonnets and canzonets of the swan of Vaucluse enjoy a high reputation throughout Europe, and, independently of their real merit, they have strong claims on attention as the earliest essays of modern literature. Nothing, certainly, can be more pure and celestial than the Poet's passion for Laura; and many have been inclined to suppose that the existence of such a person is problematical and questionable. But the poet has classical authority on his side for a passion of such wonThe Homer of Portugal manifested the power derful constancy and sincerity; and the muses of of his genius in elegy, as in epic poetry. His Mimnermus, Tibullus, and Propertius, justify the long train of misfortunes, his banishment of bit-propensities of Petrarch, though his poetry is esterness and sorrow, his lamentable and unsuc-sentially different from the amatory elegy of the cessful amours, and the chivalric adventures of a ancient writers. The principle of chivalry, which life shared by the vicissitudes of poetry and war, philosophers assign to modern times only, had explain the double direction of the genius of the given rise to ideas of exalted and enthusiastic eloquent painter of the woes of Inès de Castro, love and admiration. Thus this passion became equally gifted with the pathetic and the sublime. a species of religion, mingled with the fervour of Camoens has also composed a paraphrase on the Platonic contemplation, and invoked in a strain of 137th Psalm, which bears a high degree of ce- mysticism which frequently occurs in the compoleority in Portugal, and which, owing to the sin-sitions of Petrarch. Alammani, Guarini, and gular circumstances under which it was written, is always read with never-failing interest. The poet was on his return from Macao, when he was shipwrecked on the coast of Camboya; and, in that afflicting position, exposed on a dreary and a distant shore, he still breathed his love for

his native country in strains that emulate the pathos of the Hebrews who sat on the banks of the waters of Babylon.

Saa de Miranda belongs as much to Spain as to Portugal, and he generally writes in the dialect

of Castile. The elegy written by this poet on the death of his son, who perished on the field of battle in Africa, is distinguished by a vein of religious feeling which well accords with a heart wounded in its dearest sympathies. Antonio Ferreira, whom his contemporaries styled the Horace of Portugal, devoted, in the same way, his elegiac powers to the memory of his own friends, and that of the heroes of his age. This author aimed at a correctness of diction and sentiment, that seemed more estimable in his eyes than the impetuous sallies of genius which sometimes transport a poet beyond all ordinary bounds and transgress the limits of art. Next to him we meet with Andrade Caminha and Diego Bernardes, both disciples of Ferreira; Rodriguez Lobo, and Jeronymo Cortereal, who wrote a poem on the misfortunes of the same Manuel de Souza Sepulveda, whose shipwreck on the coast of Africa had been previously described by Camoens. Spain is fully deserving of honour on account of its numerous ballads of chivalry, which may be considered as elegiac songs of sensibility and su

Chiabrera, have also produced, with more or less
success, and under different titles, several little
pieces, which may be considered as genuine ele-
gies. The Italians, especially, have preserved in
their elegiac strains that gravity and majesty which
are produced by great miseries, either public or
private; as we find Castaldi, lamenting the
eclipse of the glories of Italy, has composed a
hymn which breathes the true spirit of poetry and
patriotism. In the same way, Filicaja, in the
seventeenth century, followed the footsteps of

Castaldi. More recently, Pindemonti has diffused
over his poetical compositions an air of musing
and melancholy, which comes nearer than any
similar essay to Gray's admirable Elegy in à
Country Churchyard.

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According to the example of the great epic poets of ancient Rome, as well as those of Italy and Portugal, Milton has left behind him several poetical effusions, full of the most interesting sensibility. A more considerable work, which may be regarded as a series of mournful elegies, is the well-known Night Thoughts' of Young; but it is not easy to conceive how this English Doctor, who had experienced real misfortunes, and possessed indisputable talent, could be so very forced and unnatural, as he frequently is, in the description of his own woes. He sometimes gives way to the most ridiculous declamations, and the most intolerably tedious apostrophes, as well as the most unpardonable disorder and incongruity, so that the reader is prevented from feeling any sympathy with the sentiments of the poet. These terms may appear unjust to those

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whose judgments are dazzled by the great success of the Night Thoughts;' but let them recolleet, that the most severe criticisms that have been passed on the work, have proceeded from the author's own countrymen. It must be acknowledged, however, that the Fourth and the Sixth Nights contain excellencies of a superior order, such as appear frequently in Young, and effusions of poetical sentiment, which harmonise with the natural feelings of the heart. Among the English, Lord Lyttleton, William Mickle, and Miss Seward, have equally distinguished themselves by elegiac productions that do honour to the literature of their nation. But, among all the poets of England that have attempted elegy, the most celebrated, and justly so, is Thomas Gray, the author of the Elegy in a Country Churchyard.' Some of the odes of this poet possess, also, a considerable portion of the elegiac spirit. In proportion as man advances in life, he beholds the fond illusions vanish that interested his youth and manhood, and the sensations naturally felt by a heart disenchanted of the dazzling visions of early life, are invested with a peculiar charm of poetical sensibility. In his fine ode on a distant Prospect of Eton College,' the same turn of mind predominates to the fullest extent. But in the Elegy in a Country Churchyard,' the poet has soared to an elevation far beyond the pretensions of any other poets of his country who attempted the elegiac style. Accordingly, this composition is Gray's masterpiece; it breathes a sweetness of melancholy sensibility, and of gentle unassuming philosophy, that has excited the admiration of all Europe. In every country, writers of every class have attempted to infuse it into their respective languages: several of these translations have appeared in French, but none of them have done full justice to the original. It would be unjust, however, to refuse acknowledging the merit of Cherier's attempt, who has also given us a fine elegy, entitled "The Promenade."

It is a circumstance highly honourable to France, that, next to the stanzas of Malherbe, addressed to Duperier, the first elegy ranked among the records of her literature, as a model of poetry and eloquence, is an effort, inspired by one of the noblest sentiments of the human heart,

that is, devotion to deposed eminence. In spite

perhaps, to Pellisson and La Fontaine, that his
of numerous_malversations, Fouqué owes it,
memory is not loaded with all the odium that is
justly attached to dilapidating and peculating
Ministers. But it is a matter of surprise, that
Louis XIV. did not imitate the magnanimity of
Cæsar, who, overcome by the eloquence of Ci-
cero, let fall from his hands the papers that
doomed Ligarius to condemnation.
The cou-
rageous conduct of Pellisson, and even of La
Fontaine, merited a triumph of that description.

friend Genonville, deserves to be ranked among
The little piece of Voltaire on the death of his
the best elegies in the world of letters, and per-
haps it merits a preference over the ode of Horace
on the death of Quintilius Varus.

Every one is acquainted with the pathetic strains that have escaped from Gilbert, who, justly conscious of his own talents, saw with anguish the approach of death, that was coming to cut off all the honours to which he might reasonably aspire. No sentiment is more deep and impres

sive than the sorrow of disappointed genius ; and such a feeling dictated to Gilbert some very fine stanzas, which are deserving of the utmost admiration. When we read them, we are tempted to repeat the words of Fenelon: Woe to him that feels not the beauty of these lines!'

The elegiac Muse inspired only a scanty number of our poets, and those only on peculiar occasions; when she suddenly re-appeared, such as she was in the times of Tibullus and Propertius, in the melancholy strains with which blighted and disappointed love inspired the author of Eleonore.' The ancients had no idea of the sentiments and expressions which give an inexpressible charm to the plaintive song of Parny, whose happiness was for ever gone. This author has surpassed himself in the songs of the poem of Israel and Aslega,' which are real elegies, that are not to be read without shedding tears. Bertin never soared so far, nor is he to be classed among the genuine composers of elegies.

REVIEWS OF BOOKS.

LIFE OF LORD BURGHLEY.

Memoirs of the Life and Administration of the Right Honourable William Cecil, Lord Burghley, Secretary of State in the Reign of King Edward VI., and Lord High Treasurer of England in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. Containing an Historical View of the Times in which he lived, and of the many eminent and illustrious Persons with whom he was connected; with Extracts from his Private and Official Correspondence, and other Papers, now first published from the Originals. By the Rev. Edward Nares, D.D., Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. 4to., pp. 792. Saunders and Otley. London, 1828.

DOCTOR NARES has undertaken, in the work before us, a task of great use and importance, but one which is of proportionable difficulty. The memoirs of Kings and Statesmen, in whatever age they have lived, form a material part of the history of their times. They require, conseA young favourite of the Muses, who perish-quently, the authenticity and the fulness of the ed before his time, and was cut off in a cruel general narrative with the particularity of indimanner, one who possessed abilities enough to vidual biography; and the author who devotes his revive the Grecian pastoral among us,-became attention to this species of composition should also desirous of emulating Tibullus; but, in spite be in possession, not only of the amplest mateof the praises heaped on him by his admirers on rials which history may furnish for his Memoir, the score of his elegies, the most beautiful of but also of such matter as may render his work them all, though it carries the title of an idyl, an additional illustration to the pages of history is the piece called 'Le Malade,' a real masteritself. There are, however, two distinct objects, piece, that describes so well the pangs and either of which he may with propriety have in agonies, the delirium and melancholy of love. view as the principal aim of his writings. He may either compose his work to delineate the character of the individual whose actions he commemorates, in which case it will come under the class of private biographies; or he may send it forth as professedly designed to throw light upon the transactions or events in which the subject of his Memoir was actively engaged, and then it will be properly considered as one of a political or historical nature. These separate objects of writers of this class will necessarily often meet each other, but they may always be sufficiently defined to enable us to class a Memoir with this or that kind of biographical works. The one before us comes, as far as the present volume extends, under the latter species, and may be regarded as hitherto affording a commentary on a particular portion of history, rather his work in this light, the learned author has imposed than as a life of Secretary Burghley. Considering literary undertakings. Elizabeth's Minister was upon himself a labour far surpassing that of ordinary himself a man of great and extraordinary characwhich his talents were so conspicuously called ter; but the times in which he lived, and in into action, were still more extraordinary. They were the period of events which agitated not merely our own country, but the whole of continental Europe, and to the influence of which belongs one of the most astonishing revolutions which the world has seen produced both in the opinions and situation of mankind. From the latter half of Henry the Eighth's reign to the firm settlement of Queen Elizabeth on her father's throne, every year was

An interval of short duration, but pregnant with mighty events, now separates us from the epoch at which this young poet perished, to whom we are paying this last tribute of respect. A monarchy of fourteen centuries' standing, fell to the ground in the midst of uproar and confusion, and brought down with it an immense assemblage of abuses, prejudices, and wrongs, the accumulated crust of ages. Europe, enslaved and combined, directed its efforts against one nation, and was defeated by the arms of Liberty; when a man arose, the greatest captain ever recorded, and, making himself the inheritor of all the struggles, efforts and virtues of the Republic, contrived to falsify the wishes of the nation, and gained a series of successes for twenty years unparalleled in history. Suddenly a reverse arrived, and his fall was as rapid and unexpected as his elevation; and the barbarians of the North encamped in the capital of a people, that, like an armed traveller, had made Europe and even Africa resound with his hymns of victory. In the crisis of our glory, our poets, whose imaginations seemed to have been overpowered by the greatness of the subject, were silent; but, in the moments of reverse, the sacred flame of patriotism revived in their bosoms, and the public grief found a vent in the eloquent effusions of their genius. It was in this spirit that the youthful Casimir Delavigne produced his Messeniens,' a tribute of sympathy to a great people overwhelmed by the disasters of the day, which would have been converted into an incredible

triumph, had not the caprice of fortune betrayed the interests of a mighty genius superior to itself, in the last struggles of its power. In the same way, Beranger came to embrace the statue of his wretched country, and to chaunt her glories in the midst of her triumphant enemies. It may, therefore, be asserted that what Jeremiah said of Jerusalem is not applicable to France, that of all those that loved her, not one came to her consolation.'

Such is the effect which great political agitations have generally had in calling forth the highest and noblest intellects, and in compelling them into patriotic exertion. France, however, is the only country where, at present, it can be said to be known. In England it is the least cultivated of all the branches of metrical composition, and we know of no English author who has any pretensions to the name of an elegiac writer.

fruitful in important circumstances, and both churchmen and statesmen had their abilities put to the test, in struggles that have, to this day, determined the condition of Protestant Europe. Mankind were awakened from a dream, but they were as yet not certain whether it had spoken truth or falsehood; there were thousands who heard of reformation, as the signal for the destruction of all religion, and of those who promoted it, as of men instigated by the evil spirit of anarchy and atheism. This would have been still more the case, had the change in religion been independent of every thing else. But the Reformation was associated, in its spirit and principles, with renovated learning and new political sentiments. The balance had been altogether turned in favour of human freedom, and of emancipation from the trammels which had hitherto held the intellect of mankind in bondage. It was not so much the rising of parties to cure this or that particular evil, as it

was the resurrection of the world from the darkness of a thousand years that was taking place; and the new spirit which animated it, embraced every object on which men place their hopes or conceive to be connected with their destinies. Religious reformation and the gradual alteration of political systems were the great results of this event; but they were so because they comprehend every thing which can engage human attention. Had the new principles been less universal in their tendency, the Court of Rome might have easily satisfied her clamorous opponents; and the Council of Trent, by a little determined attention to the improvement of ecclesiastical discipline, would have greatly retarded all the innovations which it had reason to fear. But the reformation of neither learning, religion, nor government could have been stopped by any partial success in only one of the three. The revival of letters was a most prosperous introduction to the more important one of unabused Christianity; but yet we greatly err, if we regard it in that light alone, or suffer ourselves to view it as detached from the mighty revolution which was ensuing. Each improvement, each object of moral or political importance, as it presented itself to men's minds, arose out of the change which had been taking place in the whole system of public opinion. It was this universality of the excitement, this general awakening of attention, that was, in fact, the origin of every subsequent event. Thousands, however, nay, the greatest number, perhaps, of those who gradually embraced the new opinions, regarded them, at first, as we, have said, with dread and suspicion. They were aroused; they were unsettled in their old opinions; they were convinced of the existence of strong and dangerous error; but it was only the boldest and the sternest-minded that dare at once fix the charge of error on those they had been taught to venerate, or desecrate the men and objects they had held sacred from their youth. It is well observed, therefore, by Doctor Nares, that Luther added liberty to the light which had burst forth; and it certainly deserves to be considered, whether or not any of the substantial improvements which modern times have seen, would have taken place without the spur which he gave to the already commenced revolution in public opinion. Learn ing would, it is probable, have gone on diffusing its light; but it would never have been strong enough to penetrate into the secret holds of private superstition and corruption; and, if it had done away with scholastic logic and philosophy, it might never have been able to confute opinions which had taken hold of men's hearts and

imaginations. Luther and his coadjutors spoke to them of things which all could understand, and they shew the truths and errors in opposition, which regarded the hopes and welfare of all. The instrument they used, was strong enough for the work of pulling down the fortifications of error. Learning had attacked them with its jewel-hilted weapons; but the reformers came to the charge, coated in iron mail, and armed: with battle-axes and battering-rams. But we must let Doctor Nares speak to the truth of this opinion.

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But Luther's opposition to the papal power, being it happened not to concur exactly in point of time the boldest and most direct that had ever yet occurred, with the first revival of learning, did, fortunately, exactly learning had stimulated and provoked. And though concur with the spirit of inquiry, which the revival of the latter, notwithstanding the discovery of printing, might, after all, have been stifled or checked in its course, had no higher principle than the mere desire of knowledge stepped in to its support; though the power of the Emperor and the Pope, intimately com bined, which might have been the case, for such pur poses, would in all likelihood have easily found means of putting limits to the diffusion of knowledge, on the least appearance of danger to the established authori ties in church or state (for such intellectual thraldom not even now at an end); yet, when called to the aid of a reformation, which struck at the very root of the evil, which threatened the very foundations of a tyranny

too hard to bear, and which made an appeal to the influence its destiny, it was no ordinary talents
noblest faculties and highest principles of the human that could stem the tide of opposition which ig-
mind, the restoration of letters was calculated to give norance, superstition, and an incongruous mix-
a surprising force and strength to the reformed party ture of anarchy and intolerance drove against the
throughout Europe, by enabling it, not only to hold up
its head against its opponents, but to loosen, dissolve,
bulwarks of national peace. To Lord Burleigh
and scatter in the air, those visionary chains by which
is the praise due of having acted with more patient
it had hitherto been held captive, the forgeries of the
and determined firmness, in times like these, than
canonists, the servile tenets of the civilians, and, above other statesmen have possessed in those of no
all, the insidious (because ingenious and plausible) comparative difficulty; of having effected that, by
subtleties and sophistry of the schoolmen, especially a grave and experienced wisdom, which others
their casuistical morality. If, as has been well argued, would have resorted to craft and subtlety to ac-
the restoration of letters, beginning amongst the Ro-complish; and of having passed his youth, man-
manists, brought light, it was Luther's Reformation hood, and old age at court, distinguished, in each
that brought liberty.
This is not mere matter of conjecture; the case is period, more for his learning and accomplishments
as a statesman, than for his skill and management
as a courtier. But this great man had difficulties
of the worst kind to cope with; he stood in situa-
tions in which the ordinary maxims of state policy
served him nothing; he had to control the mis-
chievous designs of one party, and the hasty, un-
tempered zeal of another; and his opinions, both
religious and political, were at first those of a new
sect, exposed to obloquy and suspicion,-after-
wards, of one doomed to suffer the flames of per-
secution, and, at length, those of a nation, but of
keep in the happy situation it had obtained. Both
one which it required all wisdom and foresight to
Lord Burleigh's times and character, therefore,
while they furnish the biographer with a subject
richly deserving his attention, are such as require
no ordinary pen to delineate. To say nothing of
party prejudices and controversy, which may find
food for debate in every chapter of such a work,
there is no period or character in history which,
either for usefulness or interest, requires more
careful study and ability in the writer. Of Dr.
Nares' work, public criticism ought, as yet, to give
no decided opinion, as the first volume reaches
only to the commencement of Lord Burleigh's
most eventful career as a statesman.
So far as

proved by the sudden alarm taken by the court of Rome, so soon as ever the danger of the "New Learning," as it was called, came to be understood. The restoration of letters appeared to have had its beginning exactly where it was most wanted, if it had but been allowed to take its free course there, as in most favoured places. But, though Italy was the country where the new light began first to spread its rays over a benighted world, and no small progress was made there in the cultivation of literature, before other countries had begun to taste of its salutary and invigorating fruits, yet it seems to have been through an oversight of the Popes, as far as regarded the stability of the papal throne, that it was even suffered to proceed so far. The early refor mers, in their appeals to Scripture, often made use of translations that had actually been sanctioned by the Popes. "In surveying this portion of history," says Dr. M'Crie," it is impossible not to admire the arrangements of Providence, when we perceive monks, and bishops, and cardinals, and Popes, active in forging and polishing those weapons which were soon to be turned against themselves, and which they afterwards would fain have blunted, and laboured to decry as unlawful and empoisoned." Works were actually printed at Venice, with the privilege (cum privilegio) of the Inquisitors, strongly favouring some of the reformed doctrines, but which their ignorance prevented their discovering.

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There is a letter, said to be still extant, from Cardinal Pole to Leo X., in which, after particularly congratulating his Holiness on his success in the propagation of the sciences, the wary Cardinal does not omit to remind him, that it might be of dangerous consequence to make mankind too learned. Even earlier than this, and in our own country, Rowland Philipps, Vicar of Croydon, and Warden of Merton College, Oxford, 66 esteemed,' as Holinshed says, a notable preacher," foreseeing the probable consequences of the discovery of the art of printing, had publicly denounced it from the pulpit of St. Paul's Cathedral, as likely to be the bane of the Roman Catholic religion. "We must root out printing," said he, "or printing will root out us." That Leo X., after the example of his father and grandfather, was a promoter of learning, cannot be questioned; it was he who granted a special (though certainly an exclusive) privilege to Aldo, for printing and publishing the Greek and Roman authors; and, though his attention was chiefly confined to the restoration and recovery of the classical writers, for which, indeed, he founded an academy, yet we must not deny him the credit of some attention also to the promotion of theological learning, as may be seen in the dedication of the famous Complutensian Polyglot, by Cardinal Ximenes, addressed to him in 1514. But the alarm began, not with the mere revival of ancient literature, but with what was more emphatically called, the "New Learning;" and the effect of this alarm was very curious. At the period of the Reformation, the heads of the Catholic religion, who had at first discovered nothing in the revival of letters but glory and pleasure, or some tendency towards the refinement of manners, began to perceive their own danger, so that an opposition soon sprang up, where the rigour of Catholic policy would be employed to restrain the operations of the mind, which distinguished such countries greatly, and still do distinguish them from those in which no such interposition could avail: this will appear from comparing Italy, Austria, Spain, and the Netherlands, with Saxony, Germany, Sweden, Denmark, England, and Holland. Indeed, after the minds of men in Italy had began to be awakened to a sense of the corruptions of the Romish church, many political reasons led them to stand up in its defence, as the source of much wealth, drawn from all other parts of Europe.'-Vol. i. pp. 29–32.

With the country in this situation, in regard to the most momentous circumstances that could

its contents carry us, it appears to have been the
result of careful and extensive research into the
ample materials which exist for the undertak-
ing. With regard to style and sentiment, it is
written, in general, with great vigour and earnest-
ness. Its author has declared in a very excel-
lent and manly preface his opinions, and seems to
have written his book in that honest spirit of mind
which keeps a man faithful to his own ideas of
right, without suffering him willingly and blindly
to leave out what makes against his sentiments.
We look with anxiety for the remainder of
this work, which, we trust, will confirm our ideas
of Dr. Nares' qualifications for the undertaking.
Its appearance does credit to every party con-
cerned in the publication; and, as forming a va-
luable addition to former works on the period of
which it treats, it deserves to find an immediate
place in every good historical library.

RECORDS OF WOMAN.

Records of Woman: with other Poems. By Felicia He-
mans. 12mo. pp. 318. William Blackwood. Edin-
burgh, 1828.

We have been long wishing to see these exqui-
site productions of Mrs. Hemans collected into a
volume, and they now meet us at the very season
best fitted for their appearance. There is some-
thing in this lady's poetry which always associates
it in our minds with the sweet breathings of sum-
mer. It is soft and musical as their gentlest
echoes; and not unlike them, because its sweetness
and tenderness are sometimes touched with
mournfulness. Her images are drawn from all
that is fairest and brightest in nature or humanity;
and the characters that people her fairy scenes
are of the pure and noble-hearted race, alike
beautiful in their death and in their love. The
spirit that inspires every line, has its impulse from
the thoughts of a gentle heart, elevated almost
into grandeur by its admiration of a sublime mo-
ral purity and greatness; and, read which of her
compositions we may, the same delight is mani-
fested in the development of this feeling.

Another striking characteristic of Mrs. Hemans' poetry, is the tone it acquires from the devout love of solitude which uniformly seems to possess its author and inspire her happiest strains. The leafy, deep green shade; the vallies and solitary hills, where the echo and ever-springing fountains have their birth; the isles of the sea, the lone bowery islands of the sea; the river's bank, or the deserted temple :-from haunts like these she has drawn, not merely the illustrations of her verse, but the very spirit of song itself, that seems to have held communion with her in these romantic solitudes. With so many of the characteristics of genuine poetry, there is no doubt the composition of this amiable authoress would have attracted general admiration, had they possessed no higher quality. But it is not either on their mere beauty or pathos they depend, but on their impressive morality. Several other writers may have given occasionally as exquisite delineations of female love, as noble and inspiring pictures of high, self-devoting bravery; but none but the greatest geniuses have ever equalled her, in blending the tenderness of female love with the dignity of all female graces, or the bravery of man with so many of the virtues of patriotism.

In the volume now before us, the highest excel-
lencies of Mrs. Hemans' poetry are displayed in
their strongest light. The Records of her own
sex, of those who have perished in the devoted-
ness of their souls to their faith and love, fur-
nished her, without fiction, with themes in every
way suited to her pen. She has selected those
the best adapted to show woman in her loveliest
character; and never were the charms of the most
exquisite verse strengthened by sentiments more
beautiful, or fitter for a pure and an exalted soul.
We give the following specimens of this delight-
ful volume: the first, from the Records of
Woman;' the others, from the minor poems
which form the latter part of the collection:
The Switzer's Wife.

Nor look nor tone revealeth aught
Save woman's quietness of thought;
And yet around her is a light
Of inward majesty and might.

M. J. J.

Wer solch ein herz an seinen Busen drückt,
Der kann fur herd und hof mit freuden fechten.
WILLHOLM TELL.

'IT was the time when children bound to meet
Their father's homeward step from field or hill,
And when the herd's returning bells are sweet

In the Swiss valleys, and the lakes grow still,
And the last note of that wild horn swells by,
Which haunts the exile's heart with melody.
'And lovely smiled full many an Alpine home,

Touched with the crimson of the dying hour,
Which lit its low roof by the torrent's foam,
And pierced its lattice thro' the vine-hung bower;
But one, the loveliest o'er the land that rose,
Then first look'd mournful in its green repose.
'For Werner sat beneath the linden-tree,
That sent its lulling whispers through his door,
Ev'n as man sits whose heart alone would be
With some deep care, and thus can find no more
Th' accustom'd joy in all which evening brings,
Gathering a household with her quiet wings.
'His wife stood hush'd before him,-sad, yet mild
In her beseeching mien ;-he mark'd it not.
The silvery laughter of his bright-hair'd child
Rang from the greensward round the shelter'd spot,
But seem'd unheard; until at last the boy
Raised from his heap'd up flowers a glance of joy,
'And met his father's face: but then a change
Pass'd swiftly o'er the brow of infant glee,
And a quick sense of something dimly strange
Brought him from play to stand beside the knee
So often climb'd, and lift his loving eyes
That shone through clouds of sorrowful surprise.
Then the proud bosom of the strong man shook;
But tenderly his babe's fair mother laid
Her hand on his, and with a pleading look,

Thro' tears half quivering, o'er him bent, and said, "What grief, dear friend, hath made thy heart its prey, That thou shouldst turn thee from our love away?

""It is too sad to see thee thus, my friend!

Mark'st thou the wonder on thy boy's fair brow, Missing the smile from thine? Oh! cheer thee! bend To his soft arms, unseal thy thoughts e'en now! Thou dost not kindly to withhold the share Of tried affection in thy secret care." 'He looked up into that sweet earnest face, But sternly, mournfully: not yet the band Was loosen'd from his soul; its inmost place

Not yet unveil'd by love's o'ermastering band. "Speak low!" he cried, and pointed where on high, The white Alps glitter'd thro' the solemn sky: ""We must speak low amidst our ancient hills And their free torrents; for the days are come When tyranny lies couch'd by forest-rills,

And meets the shepherd in his mountain-home.
Go, pour the wine of our own grapes in fear,
Keep silence by the hearth! its foes are near.
"The envy of th' oppressor's eye hath been
Upon my heritage. I sit to-night
Under my household tree, if not serene,

Yet with the faces best-beloved in sight:
To-morrow eve may find me chain'd, and thee-
How can I bear the boy's young smiles to see?"
"The bright blood left that youthful mother's cheek;
Back on the linden-stem she lean'd her form,
And her lip trembled, as it strove to speak,

Like a frail harp-string, shaken by the storm. "Twas but a moment, and the faintness pass'd, And the free Alpine spirit woke at last. 'And she, that ever thro' her home had moved With the meek thoughtfulness and quiet smile Of woman, calmly loving and beloved,

And timid in her happiness the while, Stood brightly forth, and stedfastly that hour, Her clear glance kindling into sudden power. 'Ay pale she stood, but with an eye of light, And took her fair child to her holy breast, And lifted her soft voice, that gather'd might As it found language :-"Are we thus oppress'd? Then must we rise upon our mountain-sod, And man must arm, and woman call on God!

"I know what thou wouldst do,-and be it done! Thy soul is darken'd with its fears for me. Trust me to Heaven, my husband, this, thy son, The babe whom I have born thee, must be free! And the sweet memory of our pleasant hearth May well give strength-if aught be strong on earth. "Thou hast been brooding o'er the silent dread Of my desponding tears; now lift once more,

My hunter of the hills! thy stately head,

And let thine eagle glance my joy restore! I can bear all, but seeing thee subdued,Take to thee back thine own undaunted mood. "Go forth beside the waters, and along The Chamois-path, and thro' the forests go; And tell, in burning words, thy tale of wrong To the brave hearts that midst the hamlets glow. God shall be with thee, my beloved!-Away! Bless but thy child, and leave me,-I can pray !" 'He sprang up like a warrior-youth awaking

To clarion-sounds upon the ringing air; He caught her to his breast, while proud tears, breaking From his dark eyes, fell o'er her braided hair,And" Worthy art thou," was his joyous cry, "That man for thee should gird himself to die. "My bride, my wife, the mother of my child! Now shall thy name be armour to my heart; And this our land, by chains no more defiled, Be taught of thee to choose the better part! I go-thy spirit on my words shall dwell, Thy gentle voice shall stir the Alps—Farewell !” "And thus they parted by the quiet lake,

In the clear starlight: he, the strength to rouse
Of the free hills; she, thoughtful for his sake,
To rock her child beneath the whispering boughs,
Singing its blue, half-curtain'd eyes to sleep,
With a low hymn, amidst the stillness deep.'
The Spirit's Mysteries.

And slight, withal, may be the things which bring
Back on the heart the weight which it would fling
Aside for ever;-it may be a sound-

A tone of music-summer's breath, or spring

A flower-a leaf-the ocean-which may woundStriking th' electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound. Childe Harold.

THE power that dwelleth in sweet sounds to waken Vague yearnings, like the sailor's for the shore, And dim remembrances, whose hue seems taken From some bright former state, our own no more;

detractors; it would sooner have been known, Is not this all a mystery ?-Who shall say Whence are those thoughts, and whither tends their that, though a more fortunate leader has reaped way?

'The sudden images of vanish'd things,

That o'er the spirit flash, we know not why;
Tones from some broken harp's deserted strings,
Warm sunset hues of summers long gone by,
A rippling wave-the dashing of an oar-
A flower scent floating past our parents' door;
'A word-scarce noted in its hour perchance,
Yet back returning with a plaintive tone;
A smile-a sunny or a mournful glance,

Full of sweet meanings now from this world flown;
Are not these mysteries when to life they start,
And press vain tears in gushes from the heart?
< And the far wanderings of the soul in dreams,
Calling up shrouded faces from the dead,
And with them bringing soft or solemn gleams,
Familiar objects brightly to o'erspread;
And wakening buried love, or joy, or fear,-
These are night's mysteries-who shall make them
clear?

'And the strange inborn sense of coming ill, That ofttimes whispers to the haunted breast, In a low tone which nought can drown or still, Midst feasts and melodies a secret guest: Whence doth that murmur wake, that shadow fall? Why shakes the spirit thus ?-'tis mystery all! 'Darkly we move-we press upon the brink

Haply of viewless worlds, and know it not; Yes! it may be, that nearer than we think Are those whom death has parted from our lot! Fearfully, wondrously, our souls are madeLet us walk humbly on, but undismay'd! "Humbly-for knowledge strives in vain to feel Her way amidst these marvels of the mind; Yet undismay'd-for do they not reveal

Th' immortal being with our dust entwined?-
So let us deem! and e'en the tears they wake
Shall then be blest, for that high nature's sake.'
The Sunbeam.

'Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall,
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all!
A bearer of hope unto land and sea-
Sunbeam! what gift hath the world like thee?
'Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles-
Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles;
Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam,
And gladden'd the sailor, like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest shades,
Thou art streaming on thro' their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow,
Like fire-flies glance to the pools below.

'I look'd on the mountains-a vapour lay
Folding their heights in its dark array :
Thou brakest forth-and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.
'I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot-
Something of sadness had wrapt the spot ;-
But a gleam of thee on its lattice fell,
And it laugh'd into beauty at that bright spell.
To the earth's wild places a guest thou art,
Flushing the waste like the rose's heart;
And thou scornest not from thy pomp to shed
A tender smile on the ruin's head.
'Thou tak'st thro' the dim church-aisle thy way,
And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day,
And its high pale tombs, with their trophies old,
Are bath'd in a flood as of molten gold.

'And thou turnest not from the humblest grave,
Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave;
Thou scatterest its gloom like the dreams of rest,
Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast.
'Sunbeam of summer! oh! what is like thee?
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea!-
One thing is like thee to mortals given,
The faith touching all things with hues of heaven!'

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and deserved the full harvest of glory, it was Sir John Moore who sowed the seeds of success, by the system which he introduced into the service. It is true that the first workings of that system were broken in upon in his last campaign; but he is not the less entitled to its merit, because the incapacity of others rendered it abortive.

We cannot follow our noble author through all his subsequent details; the reader will find him accurate in his facts, generally frank in his con fessions, and always lively in his descriptions.

He sketches his battles well, as one who has fought, and yet feels, while he only wields the pen, no inconsiderable portion of the excitement which he experienced when he brandished the sabre. The victory of Vimeiro is, therefore, described in a bold and animated style, of which we will give an example:

'In the mean while, a tremendous contest was going on among the hills, on the British right, and in the direction of the Lourinho road. The enemy forced their way in this quarter, as they had done on the other flank, through the body of skirmishers which covered the British line; nor did they make the slightest pause, till they beheld the 36th, the 40th, and 71st regiments in close array before them. Their line was likewise formed in a moment; and several terrible discharges of musketry were exchanged at a distance, which hardly allowed of a single bullet passing wide of its mark. At length, the 82d and 29th regiments came up to the support of their comrades, and the word was given to charge. One cheer, loud, regular, and appalling, warned the French of what they had to expect; but the French were men of tried valour, and they stood to the last. That was a tremendous onset. The entire front rank of the enemy perished; and the men who composed it were found, at the close of the action, lying on the very spots where each, during its continuance, had stood. Instantly the line gave way; and, being pursued with great impetuosity, six pieces of cannon were captured on the field. An attempt was, indeed, made to recover these, at a moment when the 71st and 82d, who had halted in the valley, were lying down to rest after their labours; but it was made to no purpose. These regiments only fell back to a little rising ground, from whence their fire could be given with greater effect; they gave it, and, once more bringing the bayonet into play, carried every thing before

them.

"The French fought well in this action. They fought like men who had been accustomed to conquer, and had not yet learned to suffer defeat. The grenadiers of their reserve, in particular, performed prodigies of valour, advancing under a cross fire of musketry and cannon, and never giving way till the bayonets of the British troops drove them down the descent. But they were routed at all points, and that with a slaughter far greater than usually occurs to armies of a similar magnitude. Out of twelve or thirteen thousand men, whom they brought into the field, three or four thousand fell; besides a large proportion of prisoners, of whom several were prisoners of rank. On the side of the British, the total loss amounted to 783, in killed,.. wounded, and missing; among the former of whom was Lieutenant-Colonel Taylor, commanding the 20th. Light Dragoons. He was shot through the heart. whilst leading a brilliant charge which his detachment: made; and in which, after committing terrible havoc among the enemy's infantry, it suddenly found itself beset by a whole brigade of French cavalry.'-Lord Londonderry, pp. 117-119.

At this time, especially, it is interesting to be informed on the subject of the Spanish and Portuguese characters, and, therefore, we subjoin the accounts given by two observers; if called upon for our own, we should probably differ in a few points, giving to the Spaniard some advantages in the comparison, throwing out of our consideration the unpleasant remembrances of: denied rations, and attributing the character an 1 credit gained by the Portuguese to the cred it which they, from greater intimacy, gave to us and our character. The Spaniards had for ages ert been our enemies, and could not in a day con hereditary hatred into cordial confidence --the Portuguese had been our constant allies, or more constant dependents, were in the habit of locking

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