"If a man, such as we are supposing, should | safed to us, by way of whetting the literary apwrite the history of England, he would assuredly petite. We trust he may be found no less wornot omit the battles, the sieges, the negotiations, thy of admiration, in the other requisites of a the seditions, the ministerial changes. But, with good historian. these, he would intersperse the details, which are But, whatever his merit in these particulars, the charm of historical romances. At Lincoln he has been eminently successful in reversing the Cathedral, there is a beautiful painted window, process. He has shown how the materials of which was made by an apprentice, out of the history may be resolved into their original elepieces of glass, which had been rejected by his ments, and the lost ballads reconstructed. In master. It is so far superior to every other in his Lays of Ancient Rome," he has presented the church, that, according to the tradition, the us with vivid pictures of Roman life, public and vanquished artist killed himself from mortifica- private, such as we may conceive it to have aption. Sir Walter Scott, in the same manner, peared to one, living and moving in the midst of has used those fragments of truth, which histo- it. With consummate skill and taste, he has inrians have scornfully thrown behind them, in a fused the spirit and energy of the Roman heart manner, which may well excite their envy. He into English verse; and preserving the thoughts has constructed, out of their gleanings, works and feelings, objects and circumstances, which which, even considered as histories, are scarcely belong to that people-sacrificing no propriety of less valuable than theirs. But a truly great his- time or place-he has moulded the whole into torian would reclaim those materials which the language, the most natural and expressive to the novelist has appropriated. The history of the English ear. government, and the history of the people, would There have been also others, no less distinbe exhibited in that mode, in which alone they guished for their success, as restorers and imitacan be exhibited justly-in inseparable conjunc- tors of National Ballads; among whom are contion and intermixture. We should not then have spicuous Scott aud Leyden in the field of Scotto look for the wars and votes of the Puritans in tish poesy, and Lockhart in his inimitable transClarendon, and for their phraseology in Old Mor-lations of Spanish ballads. But to them, as well tality, for one half of King James in Hume, and as to the venerable Bishop Percy, already allufor the other half in the Fortunes of Nigel.

ded to, we hope to do ampler justice hereafter: The early part of our imaginary history would for this article has already grown to such a length be rich with coloring from romance, ballad, and as to exclude the extracts which we had designed chronicle. We should find ourselves in the com- to offer to our readers. We trust they will not pany of knights, such as those of Froissart, and be unacceptable on a future occasion: but if we of pilgrims, such as those who rode with Chau- should be disappointed in the sympathy of those cer from the Tabard. Society would be shown, whom we desire to please, and our love of balfrom the highest to the lowest-from the royal lad-poetry seem to be overstrained, we must plead cloth of state, to the den of the outlaw-from the in excuse the invincible force of early association. throne of the legate, to the chimney corner where These poems, as has been finely said of the clas the begging friar regaled himself. Palmers, min-sics, are to us "the early voice of the world, bet strels, crusaders—the stately monastery, with its ter remembered and more cherished still, than all good cheer in its refectory, and the high mass in the intermediate words that have been spoken: its chapel-the manor house, with its hunting as the lessons of childhood still haunt us, when and hawking—the tournament, with the heralds the impressions of later years have been effaced and ladies, the trumpets and the cloth of gold- from the mind."

would give life and truth to the representation. We should perceive, in a thousand slight touches, the importance of the privileged burgher, and the fierce and haughty spirit which swelled under the collar of the degraded villain."

VOWS.

Whilst we are copying this quotation, a history of England by Mr. Macaulay himself, is passing through the press. His admirers, (and who is not of this number?) will be eager to see, how far he has been enabled to realize his beau Vows ought to be cautiously made. Leigh, in ideal of a historian, in his own work. That he his Journey to Nubia, says, Osman Bey Bardissi will not be deficient in the art of historical paint- had made a vow, never to shave his head or his ing, we are confident, as well from his high ap-beard, till he should re-enter Cairo. For the preciation of it in others, as from the specimens sake of cleanliness, as well as Cairo, his followof his book, which the publishers have vouchers must hope the event would be speedy.

EIGHTEEN SONNETS.

WITH NOTES.

I.

Eleven!-twelve! the agéd man is gone
With his chill breathing and his frosty hair.

And wreathed around with leaves and blossoms fair,
The New Year with his joyous gait comes on!
Old Year I love you!-they shall never say

I left you ere your death to greet the sun
Uprising o'er the eastern horizon,
Inviting all to bask beneath his ray.
You gave me a dear love whose sunny smile
Has scattered flowers upon my thorny path!
A loving friend of never-changing faith
From coldness free and every thought of guile.
You taught me truth to love, deceit to shun;
Therefore Old Year-my arm to lean upon!

finds courage to exclaim so heroically, "but let that pass," after prospects so flattering as those unfolded at the commencement of this touching soliloquy, must ever command the admiration of the candid reader. The noble sentiment conveyed in the antepenultimate verse of the stanza is only equalled by the calm and dignified tone of resignation in the succeeding couplets. Thus does the great mind bear up against and repel the assaults of adversity and misfortune!

III.

I dreamt, and in my dream the coming time
Was shadowed forth, as when the rising sun
Throws giant like upon the matin rime

The shade of him who makes his orison.
I saw the telegraph amid the clouds
Stretching from place to place without a pole,
And in balloon-ships eager-hearted crowds
Speeding like blooded racers to the goal.
The air was clear, I saw no blinding fogs

That rose before as from a mouldy fen.
The Press was pure, unswayed by demagogues,
The chairs of office boasted honest men.

All things were bright and joyful-I awoke
To other scenes and thoughts-hurrah for Polk!

How the changes of a few years, yea even of a single year, affect that strange and anomalous creature, man! The author has in this slight performance endeavored to record his obligations to the by-gone year. Alas! it has flitted away like the dry leaf of autumn to bury itself in the silent tomb of the Past. Another volume The author here, it will be seen, indulges in of our life is closed: we have turned over a new prophecy, and like all prophets of the present leaf, (though not in the favorable acceptation of day, his predictions are sufficiently striking, if the phrase,) each day, and in spite of the cheer- not very certain of fulfilment. The Future, ful expressions made use of in the text, we rise however, that bank which fools draw so largely from the perusal scarcely persuaded of any thing upon without estimating their credit, and wise save the vanity of human wishes. The Future men invest their substance in, will present the is before us, but we resolutely turn our eyes upon best evidence of his claims on this head. the Past, seeking for what, alas! we find not- The telegraph is universally considered a very consolation. As the ringing sounds of the mid- remarkable affair. As for ourselves we candidly night bell die away in the frosty air, our thoughts confess that since the evening, when it was progo forth with lightning speed, and finding noth-ved to a large and intelligent audience that the ing but a cheerless void, come back to tell us that learned professor had patented the lightning and all is vexation of spirit.

The author, being in this pitiable state of mind, would call the reader's attention to the following.

II.

I knew a politician warmer far

Than lovers' vows or steaks of eating-house, And "Ah!" I cried, "sure 'tis my lucky star That points where I so freely may carouse, And bid my weary soul with trouble torn,

Like to these elbows and this beaver here,
Eat, drink, enjoy herself, no longer mourn-
Seize on the golden hour withouten fear.
But ah for mortal hopes, alas! alas!

Twas when I had a vote the sun did shine :
I threw it clear away-but let that pass,
Whatever comes no freeborn man should whine,
I did it and was done in Forty-four
And now in Forty-eight I'm done once more!

The cast of feeling here, as in the preceding, is seen to be decidedly mournful. The man who

a striking quotation from the book of Job on the same subject, since that time we have fully coincided in this opinion, and from not entirely comprehending the theory of this wonderful instrument, have watched in the simplicity of our hearts to see the news go by.

By the means alluded to in the sixth line of the text, the learned professor will hereafter be enabled to stretch his line whither and in whatever manner he pleases without asking leave of any one to plant his poles. If the manner of carrying out this great improvement is not fully We explained, we can only regret the fact. have, further, too much respect for scientific books to reflect upon them in this particular.

A balloon-ship would be a novelty, but many persons doubt the possibility of such a contrivance and assert that any attempt of the sort will fall to the ground or end in smoke.

These are possible, however, and the time for them like Christmas-may be coming. In the

The author turning a deaf ear to the advisers

for the time, in order that his soul, usurped by gloomy thoughts, may be restored, begs to introduce to the indulgent reader the following:

meanwhile, we will indulge a hope that the world in its rage for morality and improvement will at- who recommend an abandonment of his stylus tend to the subject suggested in the lines which follow. The weight is already as great as we can bear, and like the poor criminal who underwent the peine forte et dure, it requires but little more to press us to death.

IV.

Upon a bank of sweetest wild flowers lying
One clear and sunny day in lazy June,
Late in the pleasing, languid afternoon,
1 dimly mused and fell asleep in sighing.
Methought I saw a Persian dame of mien
Most beautiful and fairy-like to see,
Straight as an aspen or a poplar tree,
And with the bearing of a gracious queen.
She passed her slender fingers through my hair-
She spoke in dulcet tones of such soft fire,
I thought some murmuring Eolian lyre
Its soul-enchanting notes poured on the air.
I woke, and at my side-no Persian dame !
I rose, and all my cheek was like a flame!

Youth-youth! what to your reckless mind, all confident of the coming years, is the proudest triumph of the grown up man!

V.

Far on the sea the mountain billows roar
With thunder-music in their god-like voice,
Making the bold heart leap up and rejoice.
As wrapped in foam they howl upon the shore,
Like ocean sprites that hold their revelry

Where dolphins sport and sea-birds flit along,
Filling the air with their discordant song
In honor of the raging god of sea-
My bounding soul goes forth and once again
My swift bark is careering onward fast,
Flying before the chill breath of the blast,
And bearing me across the surging main.
But then this blazing fire-these muffins hot,
Who says the sea is best? I say 'tis not!

Here the form of expression is evidently bor-
rowed. In fact the author has closely copied,
but neither wittingly nor willingly, the strong
and striking expression of the curious character
claiming so much attention in King John.
They who have crossed

"The Alps and Appenines
The Pyrenean and the river Po,"

How pleasant it is to wander forth in the balmy month of June, when the birds are singing, the green leaves gently moving to the breath of the cooling wind, the river's haze wrapping the distant landscape in a gauzy mantle, from which will join at once in the sentiment here expressed. gleam up the glittering spire of the village church, The owner's soul "goes forth upon the sea" and the snowy sail of a seabound barque, or the lof-" leaps up" to hear the "howling of the billows," ty peak of a mountain range. the "song of the seagulls" and the "revelry of the Go at noon. Then the flowers are as still as" ocean sprites," but after skimming the breakthough the hand of death were on their fibres, ers and listening in thought to their roaring, the distant wheat reposes like a field of gold in the bright sunlight, the birds are at rest, the leaves all motionless, and even the school-boy deep in the mysteries of ball and marbles, deserts the play-ground and wanders into the shady wood, where lying on the sod, his hand beneath his cheek, his bosom open to the air, he sleeps, and sleeping-dreams. Of whom?

Alas! alas! the season of youth is brief, yea as fleeting as yon thistle down, which floats a moment motionless on air, and then is borne as on the wings of the storm-wind to the yawning waves of the treacherous sea.

We were that school boy. Bread and butter was untasted, birch unheeded. Thus through all our youth we slept-and dreamt and at last have awakened. No Persian dame is at our side, neither the reality of that other. Only the shadow, alas! and that even, which we fondly dreamed would dwell in our hearts as the trace of an iron pen on a tomb of adamant, is melting away like the cool mists of summer, which make the morn so delightful, before the rays of the rising sun.

VOL. XV-3

he returns to warm his lower limbs at the chimney-corner, with the cheerful expression that whoever may declare these striking objects more attractive, he is constrained, from personal experience, to say that his friend labors under a mistake.

VI.

Down with the tyrants! 'tis the PEOPLE'S voice
That comes to us in roaring thunder tones,
The lightnings of their wrath from golden thrones
Have hurled the despots, and they shout "Rejoice!
Rejoice for freedom, oh most fair and dear

Who fled from Europe's soil for many a day
And westward to Columbia took her way
To brace all breasts against the tyrant's spear."
Great hearts! whose noble cause thrills all the soul
Much need ye should with indignation join
A holy moderation most divine,
Then shall ye reach the lofty gleaming goal
Whereon your eyes are fixed with ardent hope,
Like Simeon's on the far-extended cope.

In presenting this small poem to the public the author is sorry to say that every critic has a right to examine it with his most fault-finding specta

The Italian word of endearment is here used in order to give that flowing sound to the rhythm which is found in the old poets, and also as infinitely more ardent and expressive than the common English "dearest."

cles. Milton and other ancient writers, who en- | a touching effect on the heart of the young lady. joyed much popularity in their time, have celebrated in odes, sonnets and poems, the dawn, meridian and sunset of liberty. But these great writers lived long before the nineteenth century. They had not examined the glorious sample of independence unrolled before the world by America, brighter in the tints and more striking in the pattern, if the indulgent reader will allow of the expression, than any ever yet thrown down on the counter of the world.

The allusion to St. Simeon, in the concluding verse, was suggested by a perusal of Mr. Tenn son's poem on the subject, in which the martyr to be, is represented as standing on the summit of a lofty column, anxiously expecting the moment, which he states to be at a 66 quarter before twelve," when the angels will come to bear away his soul. Mr. Tennyson being only the "poet of a set," as the "New Timon" declares, and that in a far distant country, the author humbly suggests that his candor in acknowledging his obligation should be duly appreciated. If he ever dresses Lara in the costume of a "Nomad from the land of Morn," he will endeavor to be equally plain with the reader.

VII.

Oh, Mary! if a heart that beats for thee,
Thee only, dearest, may thy love procure,
May move thy virgin heart so soft and pure,
So full of love and sweet humanity-
If thou wilt smile on one, whose only store
Is fond affection, jealous care for thee,
To shield thy form from dark adversity
And wear thee in his spirit's inmost core,
Then turn on me thine eyes of liquid light
Give me thy lily hand in mine to press
And thou wilt fill my soul with happiness
My heart carissima! with deep delight.

She turned-her features like the blushing rose-
And placed her dexter thumb upon her nose.

VIII.

Dumas, when o'er thy gasconading page,
I follow thee through never ending scenes
That gurgle out as from unstopped canteens
The grateful draught-when all the middle age
Comes forth in burnished armor as to say,

By mighty spell of great enchanter's wand
We come to thee from distant shadow-land
Where long in darkest tombs of dust we lay"-
When Athos, Porthos, Aramis arise

Great, splendid, elegant, with many more,
I wonder at the hugeness of the store,
I'm full of admiration and surprise!
But then those poor dear creditors' demands,
Indeed Mossieu, 'twas shabby at your hands!

The late trial of M. Dumas for breach of engagement to write for the "Presse" and other the Parisian world, renders this subject of peculiar newspapers, which created so great a sensation in

interest.

Notwithstanding the reprehensive terms used in the text, M. Dumas is, in the author's opinion, fully exonerated from the charges of fraud brought against him. What in another man would be fresh of promise is in this great writer a simple defect of memory.

What! shall he whom the Duke of Montpensier has written to by special courier to come and arrange the Spanish marriage, whose doors are besieged by turbaned Turks with missives from the Dey of Tunis to come and hunt the lion with him on the plains of Africa, whom even the great Southern statesman so earnestly entreats to leave Belle France and come to America, is this great character to bend his lordly mind and eyes to mean accounts with sordid tradesmen ?

The gesture here alluded to, of placing the We humbly think not. M. Dumas conducted right thumb upon the tip of the nose and gently six novels in as many papers at one and the same moving the expanded hand in a circular direc-time, couriers were ready day and night to bear tion, is thought to convey a playful species of off the glowing sheets to the cavernous presses satire, and if our memory deceives us not, was as they flowed like burning lava from the fiery often accompanied with the jocular phrase "no breast of the great composer, the " Theatre hisyou don't though!" torique," with its immense popularity, was to be supplied with food, and the indefatigable manufacturer, grown pale and thin above the midnight lamp, must go abroad upon the Boulevards or take a trip into the country to recruit his health. Instead of the Boulevard he went to Spain, in place of the fields of Picardy to the deserts of Africa.

At any rate it appears that in this instance the gesture was only half repulsive, for the fair lady smiled and tripped away so provokingly that we were persuaded to follow.

The author would recommend the form of address used in this performance as one highly artistic and calculated to move the heart. The allusion to his jealous care to shield her form from the blasts of adversity, though he candidly confesses his entire want of any buckler for the purpose, has often, to our knowledge, produced

M. Dumas agreed to write one hundred volumes in a given time, he could only write some fifty or three score; is M. Dumas then to blame for the confidence he reposed in his mighty ge