Which gaze, through tears that dare not flow, on Her mien with hope and tearful transport warm;

Note 2, page 146, col. 2.

The sighs of exiles never to return.

Many Romans of exalted rank were formerly banished to some of the small islands in the Medi

Note 5, page 146, col. 2.

Austere in triumph, gazing on the scene. "Ce Charles," dit Giovanni Villani, “fut sage

terranean, on the coast of Italy. Julia, the daugh- et prudent dans les conseils, preux dans les armes,

ter of Augustus, was confined many years in the isle of Pandataria, and her daughter, Agrippina, the widow of Germanicus, afterwards died in exile on the same desolate spot.

Note 3, page 146, col. 2.

That glowing land was but their sepulchre. "Quelques souvenirs du cœur, quelques noms de femmes, réclament aussi vos pleurs. C'est á Misène, dans le lieu même où nous sommes, que la veuve de Pompée, Cornélie, conserva jusqu'à la mort son noble deuil; Agrippine pleura long-temps Germanicus sur ces bords. Un jour, le même assassin qui lui ravit son époux la trouva digne de le suivre. L'île de Nisida fut témoin des adieux de Brutus et de Porcie."-Madame de Staël-Corinne.

apre et fort redouté de tous les rois du monde, magnanime et de hautes pensées qui l'égaloient aux plus grandes entreprises; inébranlable dans l'adversité, ferme et fidèle dans toutes ses promesses, parlant peu et agissant beaucoup, ne riant presque jamais, décent comme un religieux, zélé catholique, âpre á rendre justice, féroce dans ses regards. Sa taille étoit grande et nerveuse, sa couleur olivâtre, son nez fort grand. Il paroissoit plus fait qu'aucun autre chevalier pour la majesté royale. Il ne dormoit presque point. Jamais il ne prit de plaisir aux mimes, aux troubadours, et aux gens de cour."—Sismondi. Rêpubliques Iluliennes, vol. iii.

Note 6, page 147, col. 2.

Thence on the beach descends a female form.

Note 4, page 146, col. 2. "The Carmine (at Naples) calls to mind the Denouncing vengeance on the matricide. bloody catastrophe of those royal youths, Conradin The sight of that coast, and those shores where and Frederick of Austria, butchered before its door. the crime had been perpetrated, filled Nero with Whenever I traversed that square, my heart yearncontinual horrors; besides, there were some who ed at the idea of their premature fate, and at the imagined they heard horrid shrieks and cries from deep distress of Conradin's mother, who, landing Agrippina's tomb, and a mournful sound of trum- on the beach with her son's ransom, found only a pets from the neighbouring cliffs and hills. Nero, lifeless trunk to redeem from the fangs of his bartherefore, flying from such tragical scenes, with-barous conqueror."-Swinburne's Travels in the drew to Naples. See Ancient Universal History. | Two Sicilies.

The Sceptic.

A POEM.

"LEUR raison, qu'ils prennent pour guide, ne|—And shall the spirit on whose ardent gaze, présente à leur esprit que des conjectures et des embarras; les absurdités où ils tombent en niant la Religion deviennent plus insoutenables que les vérités dont la hauteur les étonne; et pour ne vouloir pas croire des mystères incompréhensibles, ils suivent l'une après l'autre d'incompréhensibles erreurs." Bossuet, Oraisons Funèbres.

WHEN the young Eagle, with exulting eye, Has learned to dare the splendour of the sky, And leave the Alps beneath him in his course, 'To bathe his crest in morn's empyreal source, Will his free wing, from that majestic height, Descend to follow some wild meteor's light, Which far below, with evanescent fire,

Shines to delude, and dazzles to expire?

The dayspring from on high hath poured its blaze,
Turn from that pure effulgence, to the beam
Of earth-born light, that sheds a treacherous gleam,
Luring the wanderer from the star of faith,
To the deep valley of the shades of death?
What bright exchange, what treasure shall be
given,

For the high birth-right of its hope in Heaven?
If lost the gem which empires could not buy,
What yet remains ?-a dark eternity!

Is earth still Eden!-might a seraph guest,
Still, 'midst its chosen bowers delighted rest?
Is all so cloudless and so calm below,

We seek no fairer scenes than life can show?
That the cold Sceptic in his pride elate,
Rejects the promise of a brighter state,

No! still through clouds he wins his upward way, And leaves the rock, no tempest shall displace,

And proudly claims nis heritage of day!

To rear his dwelling on the quicksand's base ?

Votary of doubt! then join the festal throng,
Bask in the sunbeam, listen to the song,
Spread the rich board, and fill the wine-cup high,
And bind the wreath ere yet the roses die!
'Tis well, thine eye is yet undimmed by time,
And thy heart bounds, exulting in its prime;
Smile then unmoved at Wisdom's warning voice,
And, in the glory of thy strength, rejoice!

But life hath sterner tasks; e'en youth's brief hours
Survive the beauty of their loveliest flowers;
The founts of joy, where pilgrims rest from toil,
Are few and distant on the desert soil;

If some bright hour on rapture's wing hath flown,
Find more than anguish in the thought-'t is gone
Go! to a voice such magic influence give,
Thou canst not lose its melody, and live;
And make an eye the lode-star of thy soul,
And let a glance the springs of thought control;
Gaze on a mortal form with fond delight,
Till the fair vision mingles with thy sight;
There seek thy blessings, there repose thy trust,
Lean on the willow, idolize the dust!
Then, when thy treasure best repays thy care,
Think on that dread "for ever"-and despair!
And oh! no strange, unwonted storm there needs,

The soul's pure flame the breath of storms must fan,
And pain and sorrow claim their nursling-Man! To wreck at once thy fragile ark of reeds.
Earth's noblest sons the bitter cup have shared-Watch well its course-explore with anxious eye
Pround child of reason! how art thou prepared? Each little cloud that floats along the sky-
When years, with silent might, thy frame have bow- Is the blue canopy serenely fair?
ed,

And o'er thy spirit cast thy wintry cloud,
Will Memory sooth thee on thy bed of pain,
With the bright images of pleasure's train?
Yes! as the sight of some far distant shore,

Yet may the thunderbolt unseen be there,

And the bark sink, when peace and sunshine sleep
On the smooth bosom of the waveless deep!
Yes! ere a sound, a sign announce thy fate,
May the blow fall which makes thee desolate !

Whose well-known scenes his foot shall tread no Not always Heaven's destroying angel shrouds

more,

Would cheer the seaman, by the eddying wave
Drawn, vainly struggling, to th' unfathomed grave!
Shall Hope, the faithful cherub, hear thy call,
She, who like heaven's own sunbeam, smiles for all?
Will she speak comfort?-Thou hast shorn her
plume,

That might have raised thee far above the tomb,
And hushed the only voice whose angel tone
Soothes when all melodies of joy are flown!

His awful form in tempests and in clouds;
He fills the summer-air with latent power,
He hides his venom in the scented flower,
He steals upon thee, in the Zephyr's breath,
And festal garlands veil the shafts of death?

Where art thou then, who thus didst rashly cast
Thine all upon the mercy of the blast,
And vainly hope the tree of life to find
Rooted in sands that flit before the wind?
Is not that earth thy spirit loved so well,
It wished not in a brighter sphere to dwell,
Become a desert now, a vale of gloom,
O'ershadowed with the midnight of the tomb ?
Where shalt thou turn ?-it is not thine to raise,
free,To yon pure heaven thy calm confiding gaze,
No gleam reflected from that realm of rest
Steals on the darkness of thy troubled breast,
Not for thine eye shall faith divinely shed
Her glory round the image of the dead;
And if, when slumber's lonely couch is prest,
The form departed be thy spirit's guest,
It bears no light from purer worlds to this;
The future lends not e'en a dream of bliss.

For she was born beyond the stars to soar,
And kindling at the source of life, adore;
Thou couldst not, mortal! rivet to the earth
Her eye, whose beam is of celestial birth;
She dwells with those who leave her pinion
And sheds the dews of heaven on all but thee.
Yet few there are, so lonely, so bereft,
But some true heart, that beats to theirs, is left,
And, haply, one whose strong affection's power
Unchanged may triumph through misfortune's
hour,

Still with fond care supports thy languid head,
And keeps unwearied vigils by thy bed.

But thou! whose thoughts have no blest home
above,

Captive of earth! and canst thou dare to love?
To nurse such feelings as delight to rest,
Within that hallowed shrine-a parent's breast,
To fix each hope, concentrate every tie,
On one frail idol,-destined but to die,
Yet mock the faith that points to worlds of light,
Where severed souls, made perfect, re-unite?
Then tremble! cling to every passing joy,
Twined with the life a moment may destroy!
If there be sorrow in a parting tear,
Still let "for ever" vibrate on thine ear!

But who shall dare the Gate of Life to close,
Or say, thus far the stream of mercy flows?
That fount unsealed, whose boundless waves em-
brace

Each distant isle and visit every race,
Pours from the Throne of God its current free,
Nor yet denies th' immortal draught to thee.
Oh! while the doom impends, not yet decreed,
While yet th' Atoner hath not ceased to plead,
While still, suspended by a single hair,
The sharp bright sword hangs quivering in the an,
Bow down thy heart to Him, who will not break
The bruised reed; e'en yet, awake awɛke!

Patient, because Eternal,(1) He may hear
Thy prayer of agony with pitying ear,
And send his chastening spirit from above,
O'er the deep chaos of thy soul to move.

But seek thou mercy through His name alone,
To whose unequalled sorrows none was shown.
Through Him, who here in mortal garb abode,
As man to suffer, and to heal as God!
And, born the sons of utmost time to bless,
Endured all scorn, and aided all distress.

Call thou on Him-for He, in human form, Hath walked the waves of Life, and stilled the storm,

He, when her hour of lingering grace was past,
O'er Salem wept, relenting to the last,
Wept with such tears as Judah's monarch poured
O'er his lost child, ungrateful, yet deplored;
And, offering guiltless blood that guilt might live,
Taught from his Cross the lesson-to forgive!

Call thou on him-his prayer e'en then arose,
Breathed in unpitied anguish, for his foes.
And haste!—ere bursts the lightning from on high,
Fly to the City of thy Refuge, fly!(2)
So shall th' Avenger turn his steps away,
And sheath his falchion, baffled of its prey.

Yet must long days roll on, ere peace shall brood,
As the soft Halcyon, o'er thy heart subdued;
Ere yet the dove of Heaven descend, to shed
Inspiring influence o'er thy fallen head.

Yet not the less be shattered on its height,
By one dread moment of the earthquake's might
A thousand pangs thy bosom may have borne,
In silent fortitude, or haughty scorn,
Till comes the one, the master-anguish, sent
To break the mighty heart that ne'er was bent.
Oh! what is nature's strength? the vacant eye,
By mind deserted, hath a dread reply!
The wild delirious laughter of despair,
The mirth of frenzy-seek an answer there!
Turn not away, though pity's cheek grow pale,
Close not thine ear against their awful tale.
They tell thee, reason, wandering from the ray
Of Faith, the blazing pillar of her way,
In the mid-darkness of the stormy wave,
Forsook the struggling soul she could not save!
Weep not, sad moralist! o'er desert plains,
Strewed with the wrecks of grandeur-moulder
ing fanes,

Arches of triumph, long with weeds o'ergrown
And regal cities, now the serpent's own:
Earth has more awful ruins—one lost mind,
Whose star is quenched, hath lessons for mankind,
Of deeper import than each prostrate dome,
Mingling its marble with the dust of Rome.

But who with eye unshrinking shall explore
That waste, illumed by reason's beam no more?
Who pierce the deep, mysterious clouds that roll
Around the shattered temple of the soul,

He who hath pined in dungeons, 'midst the Curtained with midnight?-low its columns lie, shade

Of such deep night as man for man hath made,
Through lingering years; if called at length to be
Once more, by nature's boundless charter, free,
Shrinks feebly back, the blaze of noon to shun,
Fainting at day, and blasted by the sun!
Thus, when the captive soul hath long remained
In its own dread abyss of darkness chained,
If the Deliverer, in his might, at last,

Its fetters, born of earth, to earth should cast,
The beam of truth o'erpowers its dazzled sight,
Trembling it sinks, and finds no joy in light.
But this will pass away-that spark of mind,
Within thy frame unquenchably enshrined,
Shall live to triump in its brightening ray,
Born to be fostered with ethereal day.

Then wilt thou bless the hour, when o'er thee
passed,

On wing of flame the purifying blast,

And sorrow's voice, through paths before untrod,
Like Sinai's trumpet, called thee to thy God!

But hopest thou, in thy panoply of pride,
Heaven's messenger, affliction, to deride?
In thine own strength unaided to defy,
With Stoic smile, the arrows of the sky?
Torn by the vulture, fettered to the rock,
Still, Demigod! the tempest wilt thou mock?
Alas' the tower that crests the mountain brow
A thousand years may awe the vale below,

And dark the chambers of its imagery ?(3)
Sunk are its idols now-and God alone
May rear the fabric by their fall o'erthrown!
Yet from its inmost shrine, by storms laid bare,
Is heard an oracle that cries-" Beware!
Child of the dust! but ransomed of the skies!
One breath of Heaven-and thus thy glory dies
Hast, ere the hour of doom, draw nigh to Him
Who dwells above between the cherubim!"

Spirit dethroned! and checked in mid career,
Son of the morning! exiled from the sphere,
Tell us thy tale!-Perchance thy race was run
With science, in the chariot of the sun;
Free as the winds the paths of space to sweep,
Traverse the untrodden kingdoms of the deep,
And search the laws that Nature's springs con
trol,

There tracing all-save Him who guides the
whole.

Haply thine eye its ardent glance had cast
Through the dim shades, the portals of the past;
By the bright lamp of thought thy care had fed
From the far beacon-lights of ages fled,
The depths of time exploring, to retrace
The glorious march of many a vanished race.
Or did thy power pervade the living lyre,
Till its deep chords became instinct with fire,
Silenced all meaner notes, and swelled on high,
Full and alone, their mighty harmony,

While woke each passion from its cell profound,
And nations started at th' electric sound?

Lord of th' Ascendant! what avails it now,
Though bright the laurels waved upon thy brow?
What, though thy name through distant empires
heard,

Bade the heart bound as doth a battle-word?
Was it for this thy still unwearied eye
Kept vigil with the watch-fires of the sky,
To make the secrets of all ages thine,

And commune with majestic thoughts that shine
O'er Time's long shadowy pathway?-hath thy
mind

Severed its lone dominions from mankind,
For this to woo their homage?-Thou hast sought
All, save the wisdom with salvation fraught,
Won every wreath-but that which will not die,
Nor aught neglected-save eternity!

And did all fail thee, in the hour of wrath,
When burst th' o'erwhelming vials on thy path?
Could not the voice of Fame inspire thee then,
O spirit! sceptred by the sons of men,

With an Immortal's courage to sustain

The transient agonies of earthly pain?

A thousand rocks, deep-hid, elude our sight,
A star may set-and we are lost in night;
A breeze may waft us to the whirlpool's brink,
A treach'rous song allure us—and we sink!

Oh! by His love, who, veiling Godhead's light,
To moments circumscribed the Infinite,
And Heaven and Earth disdained not to ally
By that dread union-Man with Deity;
Immortal tears o'er mortal woes who shed,
And, ere he raised them, wept above the dead;
Save, or we perish!-let thy word control
The earthquakes of that universe-the soul;
Pervade the depths of passion-speak once more
The mighty mandate, guard of every shore,
"Here shall thy waves be stayed"-in grief, in pain,
The fearful poise of reason's sphere maintain,
Thou, by whom suns are balanced!—thus secure
In Thee shall Faith and Fortitude endure;
Conscious of Thee, unfaltering shall the just
Look upward still, in high and holy trust,
And, by affliction guided to Thy shrine,
The first, last thought of suffering hearts be Thine.
And oh! be near, when clothed with conquer-
ing power,

-One, one there was, all-powerful to have The King of Terrors claims his own read hour;

saved,

When the loud fury of the billow raved;

When on the edge of that unknown abyss,
Which darkly parts us from the realm of bliss,

But Him thou knewest not-and the light he lent Awe-struck alike the timid and the brave,

Hath vanished from its ruined tenement,
But left thee breathing, moving, lingering yet,
A thing we shrink from-vainly to forget;
Lift the dread veil no further-hide, oh! hide
The bleeding form, the couch of suicide!
The dagger grasped in death-the brow, the eye,
Lifeless, yet stamped with rage and agony;
The soul's dark traces left in many a line
Graved on his mien, who died," and made no
sign!"

Approach not, gaze not-lest thy fevered brain
Too deep that image of despair retain;
Angels of slumber! o'er the midnight hour,
Let not such visions claim unhallowed power,
Let the mind sink with terror, and above
See but th' Avenger's arm, forgot th' Atoner's
love!

Alike subdued the monarch and the slave,
Must drink the cup of trembling(4)—when we see
Nought in the universe but death and Thee,
Forsake us not;-if still, when life was young,
Faith to Thy bosom, as her home, hath sprung,
If Hope's retreat hath been, through all the past,
The shadow by the Rock of Ages cast,
Father, forsake us not!—when tortures urge
The shrinking soul to that mysterious verge,
When from Thy justice to Thy love we fly,
On Nature's conflict look with pitying eye,
Bid the strong wind, the fire, the earthquake cease,
Come in the still small voice, and whisper-
peace!(5)

For oh! 't is awful-He that hath beheld
The parting spirit, by its fears repelled,
Cling in weak terror to its earthly chain,

O Thou! th' unseen, th' all-seeing!-Thou And from the dizzy brink recoil, in vain;

whose ways

Mantled with darkness, mock all finite gaze,
Before whose eyes the creatures of Thy hand,
Seraph and man, alike in weakness stand,
And countless ages, trampling into clay
Earth's empires on their march, are but a day;
Father of worlds unknown, unnumbered!-Thou,
With whom all time is one eternal now,

He that hath seen the last convulsive throe
Dissolve the union formed and closed in wo,
Well knows, that hour is awful.-In the pride
Of youth and health, by sufferings yet untried,
We talk of Death as something, which 't we:0
sweet

In Glory's arms exultingly to meet,
A closing triumph, a majestic scene,

Who know'st no past, no future-Thou whose Where gazing nations watch the hero's mien breath

Goes forth, and bears to myriads, life or death!
Look on us, guide us!-wanderers of a sea
Wild and obscure, what are we, reft of Thee?

As, undismayed amidst the tears of all,
He folds his mantle, regally to fall!

Hush, fond enthusiast!-still, obscure, and ions
Yet not less terrible because unknown.