resistance, submitted to the Soldan. The circumstances of its capitulation, and his generosity to the conquered, are detailed in the notes to the poem. Tyre was soon the only city of Palestine which remained to the Christians, and it was saved from sharing the fate of the rest by the opportune arrival of Conrad of Montferrat, with a few brave followers. "In the mean time the loss of the Holy City spread dismay in Europe. Some years previous, the Patriarch Heraclius had endeavoured to stimulate the potentates of France and England by the recital of its dangers; but the misfortunes of the second crusade were not then forgotten, and his intemperate harangues and infamous character were injurious to his cause. The venerable Archbishop of Tyre was more successful; and when he related the sad events of which he was afterwards to write the history, the brave and pious wept at the idea of the Saracens trampling on the tomb of their Redeemer. Philip Augustus and Richard sheathed on the field of battle the swords which were drawn for mutual warfare, and vied with the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa in their preparations for its rescue. Myriads hastened to take the cross, and to defray the expence of their equipment, the memorable tax of the Dixme Saladine, or the tenth part of their rents and moveables, was imposed on all who remained behind. In the meanwhile the Soldan had released Lusignan from captivity, and as the hatred of Conrad had caused the gates of Tyre to be shut against him, he collected the few friends which still remained to him, and began the siege of Acre. Saladine advanced to its relief; successive bands of Christians, whose less splendid preparations had enabled them to outstrip the three great monarchs of Europe, arrived to reinforce the army of Lusignan, while that of the Soldan was continually recruited from Egypt, Damascus, and Aleppo, and the siege had continued nearly three years at the time when the poem commences. "In this brief abstract I have merely attempted to recall to the memory of the reader a few of the principal events which preceded the action of the poem. The recent publication of Mr. Mills's History of the Crusades,' has rendered more minuteness unnecessary. It is needless to say, that in a poem, much of fiction is necessarily blended; but where I have drawn from history, I have endeavoured to be correct. For one great anachronism I must throw myself on the mercy of the critic, but it seemed to me otherwise impossible to preserve any unity of story without omitting the most romantic part of Richard's life. "It only remains for me to express my thanks to those friends who have assisted my labours, To Mr. Gifford, for the benefit which I have derived from his friendly criticism; and to Mr. D'Israeli, and Messrs. Longman and Rees, for the loan of many valuable books.” Of the poem itself, which extends to nearly fourteen thousand lines, we would willingly give a specimen; but a short one would be insufficient to exhibit its merits, and our limits will not permit a long quotation. Although there are, perhaps, passages in the work, which, had the fair author lived to superintend a second edition, she might have corrected and polished, it is a poem abounding with beauty, both of description and of imagery; and the versification is throughout exceedingly smooth and harmonious. The shorter and more stimulating productions which are the taste of the present day, have hitherto defrauded "Cœur de Lion" of much of the fame that is its due; but we have no doubt that posterity will do ample justice to Miss Porden, and will place her in the high rank to which she is entitled. The notes to the Poem are exceedingly copious and interesting; and show the unwearied research which must have preceded its composition. Miss Porden was, in fact, at the pains of filling several volumes with extracts in manuscript from the old Monkish bistorians, in order to prepare herself for the task which she had undertaken; a labour, both in nature and extent, probably much more arduous than was ever before achieved by a female. Miss Porden visited the continent four times with her father, whom she greatly assisted in his architectural studies and inquiries. On one of those occasions (in the year 1818) they went as far as Lausanne and Berne, and purposed proceeding to the north of Italy; but indisposition on the part of Mr. Porden prevented the intention from being carried into effect. While at Paris, Miss Porden addressed a letter to Baron Cuvier, on some scientific subject, which drew upon her the honour of a particular notice from the French Institute. Of the Royal Society of Literature in London she was, soon after its formation, elected a member. Miss Porden suffered very much from hooping-cough at five or six years of age; and from that period had been always subject to a cough and great shortness of breath; both of which were probably increased by reading aloud for many hours daily to her mother, (who was unable to see sufficiently for the purpose of amusing herself) and frequently to her father, and those who instructed her. Her cough became much worse in 1822, during some trying scenes abroad with her father, whom she brought in a dying state from Paris. Not long after she ruptured a blood-vessel upon the lungs, which threatened her for many weeks with loss of life. Captain Franklin returned from his expedition soon after Mr. Porden's death. Miss Porden's illness delayed their marriage; but it took place in August, 1823. A circumstance which occurred just before their union places the character of the amiable subject of this memoir in so elevated a point of view, and affords so admirable an example to her sex, that we cannot pass it unnoticed. Capt. Franklin, with the manly and honourable candour which belongs to his profession, was observing to her that his country had an undoubted right to his services while he was capable of rendering them; and, therefore, that she must not be annoyed or mortified at his occasional absence: "I am an Englishwoman!" was the noble and comprehensive answer. In June, 1824, Mrs. Franklin gave birth to a daughter; and it was for some time hoped that her constitution would rally, and her health be restored; but these flattering expectations were soon destroyed. It has been said that the agitation occasioned by the preparations for the departure of Captain Franklin on his second expedition accelerated her death; but that was by no means the case. On the contrary, ever eager herself in the pursuit of knowledge, she entered fully into the enterprising spirit of her husband; and, notwithstanding the unprecedentedly severe hardships and dangers to which Captain Franklin had been exposed in his first expedition, she was anxious that he should have an opportunity of repeating the attempt, in the hope that the great object in view might yet be accomplished. The pulmonary complaint, however, from which she had so long suffered, rapidly gained ground; and it became evident that no human power could save her. She was given over by her physicians five days before that fixed for Captain Franklin's departure. After joining with him and with her family in receiving the sacrament, and after taking an afflicting farewell of all, she awaited in resignation the fiat of her Maker. It was, perhaps, an alleviating circumstance, that as the service on which Captain Franklin was ordered was of a nature that would not admit of delay, her life was spared until after his departure; thereby enabling him to set forward with the hope, however faint, which her still being in existence would allow him to entertain. She, on her part, survived to know that he had sailed from England; and then tranquilly breathed her last, on the night of the 22d of February, 1825. We understand that it is intended, in the course of a short time, to print a small volume of Mrs. Franklin's minor poems. Nearly the whole of the materials for the foregoing little memoir were kindly furnished to us by one of Mrs. Franklin's oldest and most valued friends. We have been also favoured with the following interesting specimens of the posthumous poems to which we have alluded. "Lines written on the Platform at Berne, October 1813. "The noble city of Berne, the capital of Switzerland, is built upon a high peninsula, formed by the river Aar. The Platform is a public walk, shaded with trees, by the side of its fine cathedral, and the view thence is magnificent. On the left, the houses of the patricians crown the southern ridge of the peninsular hill above-mentioned, with their gardens sloping in terraces to the bank of the river. The Aar is a broad and beautiful stream, nearly as blue as the Rhone; and the green hills on its farther side form a delightful foreground to the whole chain of the Bernese Alps, glittering in eternal snow, and defying at once the pen and the pencil to give an idea of their magnitude and beauty; but as they are at a great distance, a strong light is required to render them visible. The sky may be unclouded at Berne, and yet the mist may hang upon the mountains, and a stranger might be unconscious of their existence: nay, they may be this moment glittering in the sun, and five minutes after swept out of the picture. The light of the moon has not sufficient power to show them. "THREE days of checquer'd smiles and tears, Still have I sought this spot, to gaze On yon rich work of Gothic days; Whose ridge patrician mansions crown; Nor more the ravish'd sense required: Those summits of eternal white, More than the eye may count, around The Finster-Aar-Horn, the highest of the Bernese Alps, remarkably slender and pointed, and forming the eastern peak of a noble group, |