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much delight in his lordship's writings. But when, in the midst of his pathos, we recollect his character, we are disgusted with his affectation. When he makes the pretence of paternal kindness for his infant daughter, a cloak beneath which to stab afresh the bleeding bosom of that infant's mother, we are the more revolted at the atrocity of the act from the sanctity of the disguise. In listening to his invocations of solitude and silence, we are led to reflect on the causes which have rendered him an outcast from society. When we hear him arraigning Heaven, and uttering imprecations on mankind, we cannot but call to remembrance his heinous ingratitude to the one, and his manifold injuries to the other. Many of his sentiments, it is true, harmonize with his condition. But these are not of the class which we admire.

and the judgment we have pronounced upon them. In his present performance there is little to excite reprehension, or indeed any thing else. It is altogether unworthy of his lordship's reputation, and only remarkable as it affords another evidence of that incontinence in his lordship which we have so often reproved. If the noble author desire posthumous fame, he should treasure up a legacy for posterity. Indeed if he would not survive his celebrity, he must be more prudent in his demands on a complaisant public. We suspect, however, that the Lament of Tasso,' like Peter Pindar's razors, was made to sell.' Notwithstanding his lordship's youthful deprecation of mercenary motives, he has of late found it exceedingly convenient to replenish his empty coffers by vending 'the lumber of the brain'-and, we believe, has discovered it to be a gainful trade. But we did not thinkt hat after his vehement phillippic against this contraband traffic, he would

SO

soon have taken to peddling small

wares. we

We are anxious to be distinctly understood in regard to the nature of the impressions we are apt to receive from his lordship's most applauded and intrinsically finest passages. The more should approve them as truths, the more we abhor them as lies. When lord Byron murmurs in the impassioned and desponding tones of Petrarch, or Camoens, or Tasso, we are affected much in the same manner that we should be by the Janguage of Cato in the mouth of Clodius. We must be persuaded of the sincerity of an orator, or of a poet, before we can yield ourselves up to his power. Mere rhetorical declamation,

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart. But when we perceive the absolute mendacity of the speaker, when his tongue is contradicted by the whole tenor of his life, we are more struck by the effrontery of the falsehood, than with the beauty of

the sentiment.

Lord Byron has so impoliticly appropriated to himself prominent sentiments, expressed in the persons of his heroes, that we are perhaps induced to extend the parallel of their situations and opinions further than his lordship intended. Thus, this injudicious association of himself with the creatures of his fancy, besides robbing us of the pleasure we might have derived from a temporary oblivion of his actual profligacy, has filled our apprehensions with the spectres of unperpetrated crimes. We sincerely regret the double injustice which his lordship has by this means committed.

We have made the above remarks in reference to lord Byron's past productions

What price his lordship may have received for this 'copy of verses' we know not-five hundred pounds perhaps-but be that as it may, we will give it to our readers gratis-nor shall we require many thanks for the donation. It may be well, however, to explain the circumstance on which it is founded. Tasso was patronized at an early age, by Alphonso Duke of Ferrara. He produced his poem of Rinaldo, at Padua, when he was but seventeen years old, and four tection of this prince. Alphonso procuryears after placed himself under the proed him an employment in the suite of his brother, a Cardinal and ambassador from the Pope to the court of France. On his return to Ferrara the young poct suffered himself to become enamoured of Elenora, the sister of his sovereign. He struggled with his passion and retired to Sorrento in Naples, his native place, where his sister resided. But absence served only to inflame his passion. Unable longer to deny himself the pleasure of seeing his mistress, he returned to Ferrara, and such was the uncontrollable force of his love, that he had the rashness to embrace the princess in a crowded assembly. The Duke Alphonso, who witnessed his extravagance, coolly ordered him to be confined as a maniac in the hospital of St. Anne. Here for twenty years he suffered all that his own sensibility, and the scenes around him, could inflict. It is not wonderful that he should, at times, have experienced the malady imputed to him. He was eventually released and retired to Naples

THE LAMENT OF TASSO.

1.

Long years!-it tries the thrilling frame to bear
And eagle-spirit of a Child of Song-
Long years of outrage, calumny and wrong;
Imputed madness, prisoned solitude,
And the mind's canker in its savage mood,
When the impatient thirst of light and air
Parches the heart; and the abhorred grate,
Marring the sunbeams with its hideous shade,
Works through the throbbing eyeball to the brain
With a hot sense of heaviness and pain;
And bare, at once, Captivity displayed
Stands scoffing through the never-opened gate,
Which nothing through its bars admits, save day

And tasteless food, which I have eat alone
Till its unsocial bitterness is gone;
And I can banquet like a beast of prey,
Sullen and lonely, couching in the cave
Which is my lair, and-it may be-my grave.
All this hath somewhat worn me, and may wear,
But must be borne. I stoop not to despair;
For I have battled with mine agony,
And made me wings wherewith to overfly
The narrow circus of my dungeon wall,
And freed the Holy Sepulchre from thrall:
And revelled among men and things divine,
And poured my spirit over Palestine,
In honour of the sacred war for him,
The God who was on earth and is in heaven,
For he hath strengthened me in heart and limb.
That through this sufferance I might be forgiven,
I have employed my penance to record
How Salem's shrine was won, and how adored.

But this is o'er-ny pleasant task is done :-
My long-sustaining friend of many years!
If I do blot thy final page with tears,
Know, that my sorrows have wrung from me

none.

But thou, my young creation! my soul's child!
Which ever playing round me came and smiled,
And wooed me from myself with thy sweet sight,
Thou too art gone-and so is my delight:
And therefore do I weep and inly bleed
With this last bruise upon a broken reed.
Thou too art ended-what is left me now?
For I have anguish yet to bear-and how?
I know not that-but in the innate force
Of my own spirit shall be found resource.
I have not sunk, for I had no remorse,
Nor cause for such; they called me mad—and
why?

Oh Leonora! wilt not thou reply?
I was indeed delirious in my heart
To lift my love so lofty as thou art;

But still my frenzy was not of the mind;
I knew my fault, and feel my punishment
Not less because I suffer it unbent.

That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind,
Hath been the sin which shuts me from mankind;
But let them go, or torture as they will,
My heart can multiply thine image still;
Successful love may sate itself away,
The wretched are the faithful; 'tis their fate
To have all feeling save the one decay,
And every passion into one dilate,
As rapid rivers into ocean pour;

But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore,

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Above me hark! the long and maniac cry
Of minds and bodies in captivity.
And hark! the lash and the increasing howl,
And the half-inarticulate blasphemy!
There be some here with worse than frenzy foul,
Some who do still goad on the o'er-laboured mind,
And dim the light little that's left behind
With needless torture, as their tyrant will
Is wound up to the lust of doing ill:
With these and with their victims am I classed,
'Mid sounds and sights like these long years have
passed;

'Mid sights and sounds like these my life may close:

So let it be-for then I shall repose.

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None! save that One, the veriest wretch of all,
Who was not made to be the mate of these,
Nor bound between Distraction and Disease.
Felt I not wroth with those who placed me here?
Who have debased me in the minds of men,
Debarring me the usage of my own,
Blighting my life in best of its career,
Branding my thoughts as things to shun and fear?
Would not pay them back these pangs again,
And teach them inward sorrow's stifled groan?
The struggle to be calm, and cold distress,
Which undermines our stoical success?
No!--still too proud to be vindictive-I
Have pardoned princes' insults, and would die,
Yes, Sister of my Sovereign! for thy sake
I weed all bitterness from out my breast,
It hath no business where thou art a guest;
Thy brother hates-but I can not detest;
Thou pitiest not-but I can not forsale.

Look on a love which knows not to despair,
But all unquenched is still my better part,
Dwelling deep in my shut and silent heart
As dwells the gathered lightning in its cloud,
Encompassed with its dark and rolling shroud,
Till struck,-forth flies the all-ethereal dart!
And thus at the collision of thy name
The vivid thought still flashes through my frame,
And for a moment all things as they were
Flit by me; they are gone-I am the same.
And yet my love without ambition grew ;
I knew thy state, my station, and I knew
A princess was no love-mate for a bard;
I told it not, I breathed it not, it was
Sufficient to itself, its own reward;
And if my eyes revealed it, they, alas!

Were punished by the silentness of thine,
And yet I did not venture to repine.
Thou wert to me a crystal-girded shrine,
Worshipped at holy distance, and around
Hallowed and meekly kissed the saintly ground;
Not for thou wert a princess, but that Love
Had robed thee with a glory, and arrayed
Thy lineaments in beauty that dismayed-
Oh! not dismayed-but awed, like Ŏne above;
And in that sweet severity, there was

A something which all softness did surpass-
I know not how-thy genius mastered mine-
My star stood still before thee if it were
Presumptuous thus to love without design,
That sad fatality hath cost me dear;
But thou art dearer still, and I should be
Fit for this cell, which wrongs me, but for thee.
The very love which locked me to my chain
Hath lightened half its weight; and for the rest,
Though heavy, lent me vigour to sustain,
And look to thee with undivided breast,
And foil the ingenuity of Pain.

VI.

It is not marvel-from my very birth

My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade
And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth;
Of objects all inanimate I made
Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,
And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise,
Where I did lay me down within the shade
Of waving trees, and dreamed uncounted hours,
Though I was chid for wandering; and the wise
Shook their white aged heads o'er me, and said
Of such materials wretched men were made,
And such a truant boy would end in wo,
And that the only lesson was a blow;
And then they smote me, and I did not weep,
But cursed them in my heart, and to my haunt
Returned and wept alone, and dreamed again
The visions which arise without a sleep.
And with my years my soul began to pant
With feelings of strange tumult and soft pain;
And the whole heart exhaled into One Want,
But undefined and wandering, till the day
I found the thing I sought-and that was thee;
And then I lost my being all to be
Absorbed in thine-the world was past away-
Thou didst annihilate the earth to me!

VII.

I loved all solitude-but little thought
To spend I know not what of life, remote
From all communion with existence, save
The maniac and his tyrant; had I been
Their fellow, many years ere this had seen
My mind like theirs corrupted to its grave;
But who hath seen me writhe, or heard me rave?
Perchance in such a cell we suffer more
Than the wrecked sailor on his desert shore;
The world is all before him-mine is here,
Scarce twice the space they must accord my
bier.

What though he perish, he may lift his eye
And with a dying glance upbraid the sky-
I will not raise my own in such reproof,
Although 'tis clouded by my dungeon roof.

VIII.

Yet do I feel at times my mind decline, But with a sense of its decay :-I see Unwonted lights along my prison shine, And a strange demon, who is vexing me

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My scars are callous, or I should have dashed
I once was quick in feeling--that is o'er-
My brain against these bars as the sun flashed
In mockery through them;-if I bear and bore
The much I have recounted, and the more
Which hath no words, 'tis that I would not die
And sanction with self-slaughter the dull lie
Which snared me here, and with the brand of
shame

Stamp madness deep into my memory,
And woo compassion to a blighted name,
Sealing the sentence which my foes proclaim.
No-it shall be immortal!-and I make
A future temple of my present cell,
Which nations yet shall visit for my sake.
While thou, Ferrara! when no longer dwell
The ducal chiefs within thee, shalt fall down,
And crumbling piecemeal view thy hearthless
halls,

A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown,
A poet's dungeon thy most far renown,
While strangers wonder o'er thy unpeopled

walls!

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Of magic round thee is extinct-shalt have
One half the laurel which o'ershades my grave.
No power in death can tear our names apart,
As none in life could rend thee from my heart.
Yes, Leonora! it shall be our fate
To be entwined forever-but too late!

This is all! Here is the whole of lord Byron's book, called the 'Lament of Tasso.' We have given his lordship at full length, and we hope we are duly obliged to him for the opportunity he has afforded us of gratifying our numerous readers with an entire volume of new poetry, of the newest pattern. How very condescending it is in great lords to write

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such little books! Who would have expected a work like this from 'the greatest poet' of the age!

We are sorry, however, that his lordship did not bear in mind, that 'whatever is worth doing, is worth doing well.' Indeed the less costly the material, the more requisite is skill in the workmanship to give it value. But we do not discover any unusual polish in this poem. It is written in the same rugged style as his lordship's masterpieces. It is a rough-hewn pebble. We have often a great deal of trouble to make out a very little meaning. The whole of the first stanza is constructed with the most curious infelieity.' The sense is discoverable on close scrutiny, but the periods are cumbrous, and to say the least, very awkwardly arranged. The rhymes do not regularly recur, nor are they perfect-grate and shade, display'd and gate will not harmonize. The figures are bad. We are told of a 'grate' working through the eyeball to the brain, with a hot sense of heaviness and pain'-that is a' grate,' with a 'hot sense, working its way through the eye-ball! There is to be sure, no incongruity in endowing a grate with sense that could perform such feats, though we think it a very nonsensical metaphor. We are next told of a never opening gate which admits nothing through its bars, but day and tasteless food-and the scoffings of captivity. The figurative and

Rafinesque

literal expressions are not well coupled.
We next find that this 'tasteless food'
once had an 'unsocial bitterness' which
it had lost. This is intelligible. But how
a man or a beast of prey' can 'banquet'
upon 'tastelees food,' we cannot easily
comprehend. It is allowable to suppose
that Tasso planned his Jeruselem Deli-
vered during his tedious confinement, and
it would be natural for him to feel some
listlessness, and something like regret,
after he had completed so pleasing a
task-but that fishing his work was to
him like the last bruise upon a broken
reed,' as we learn in the second stanza,
we could not have imagined. In the
sixth stanza there is some poetry, though
there is nothing new in it to the readers
of lord Byron. By his own account,
the author of the Lamentation was a sad
boy. When he was whipped as a truant,
he 'cursed in his heart, his parents or
preceptors who inflicted the blow, and,
regardless of their injunctions, returned
to his favourite haunts.' He perused
the volume of nature to little purpose, if
he did not learn from his studies a bet-
ter lesson of moral duty, than to nurture
revenge and to persevere in disobedi
ence. The poem contains his lordship's
usual proportion of pause-antithesis--
and alliteration.

With pilfering pranks and petty pains—
is a vastly pretty specimen of the latter.

E.

ART. 4. A Manual of Botany for the Northern States, comprising generic descrip tions of all Phenogamous and Cryptogamous plants to the north of Virginia, hitherto described, &c. &c. Compiled by the Editor of Richards's Botanical Dictionary. Albany. WEBSTER & SKINNERS. 1817. 12mo. pp. 164.

THE tle of a mere
HE work before us, has no higher

compilation; but compilations are some-
times very useful when properly and
skilfully executed, and this manual pro-
fessing utility as its avowed object, it may
be incumbent to examine how far this di-
sideratum has been attained. It is ushered
under the patronage of the members of
the Botanical Class in Williams' College,
Massachusetts, for whose use it appears
to have been compiled, and whose thanks
are offered to the author for his pains.
While it must be highly gratifying to ob-
serve that as many as sixty-three stu-
dents have signed that address, and at-
tended the lectures on mineralogy and
botany, delivered by the author in that
College, and while they express their gra-

commendable, it may be proper to hint, titude towards him in terms highly

that students are not in general the best judges of what is most useful in their pursuits. What they deem such, may often prove otherwise, and they are but seldom enabled to detect the errors of their teachers, while they are taught to consider them as doctrines and truths.

How much better it would be, if those writers who undertake at an early period to instruct us, or to facilitate our attainments in natural sciences, would consult previously those who may be able and willing to guide their forward steps, and direct them towards the best sources of information. We are induced to state this, in reference to both works of this author, who appears to be a young man of

talents; but who might have greatly improved his performances, had he been directed in proper time, to the latest and most correct works, on the subjects which he has undertaken to illustrate.

We understand that the author of this anonymous manual is Mr. Eaton, lecturer on Botany and Natural History, first in Yale College at New-Haven, now in Williams' College in Massachusetts. He published last year at New-Haven in Connecticut, a translation of Richards's Dictionary of the terms of Botany, which will be found a useful work, notwithstand ing that it is sixteen years backwards in point of improvement, the period that has elapsed between the publication and translation of the work. The additions introduced into it by Mr. E. are very inconsiderable, and he appears to have had no knowledge of many eminent works published since 1800, (period of Richards's publication,) in which numberless improvements in Glossology, or the language of Botany, have been introduced, such as Philibert's Dictionary, Fontenelle's Dictionary, Link's Elements, Decandolle's Theory, Mirbel's Elements, Wildenow's Principles of Botany, &c. besides his Cryptogamy, and the partial improvements of Correa, Desvaux, Persoon, Acharius, Brown, Rafinesque, &c. None of the parts of Botany or any other science can remain stationary in Europe, particularly during 16 years; and this must not be forgotten by those who shall endeavour to transmit to us the scientific knowledge of continental Europe. Let us not imitate England, who adopts with reluctance, and after long periods, the improvements and discoveries of her neighbours; but let us avail ourselves at once of all those that have been, or may hereafter be made, else we shall never be on a level with those nations, by whom they are adopted and fostered.

This manual of Botany deserves at least its name, being of a small and appropriate size, closely printed and with many abbreviations. So far the author has been consistent, since he has included in a few sheets, what might have been enlarged into a thick volume, by those who are prone to swell their labours, in the hope or belief that they may be esteemed in proportion to their bulk and weight!

The genera and species of this manual are of course enumerated according to the sexual system of Linnæus, with the trivial corrections of Persoon. This unnatural, incorrect, difficult, puzzling, indelicate and obsolete system, prevails as yet in the U. S. and having beeu adopted

in the two Floras of Michaux and Pursh, who appear to carry a greater authority than they deserve, will probably be taught and followed for a short period to come, or until a new Flora of the U. S. shall be undertaken on the plan of Decandollo's French Flora and Species plantarum, when it will of course be superseded by the natural method, which (by Linnæus's own confession) exceeds as much the sexual system, as this system exceeds all others. When it is recollected that the system of Linnæus, although published about 1733, was not adopted in England and America, until about forty years afterwards, and that the natural method of Jessieu, (since improved by Brown, Decandolle, and Rafinesque,) published in 1789, is merely beginning to dawn in England, through the exertions of the illustrious Robert Brown, it will not appear strange, that the U. S. should not have yet followed the example of the continent of Europe, where it begins to be in general use. We are however happy to observe, that even with us, Messrs. Correa and Rafinesque are endeavouring to introduce and teach the method of nature, and Mr. E. has with much propriety noticed to which of the orders of Jessieu, every genus belongs. He has likewise added a reference to the natural orders of Linnæus.

By the title of this manual, we were led to expect, that all the plants of the states north of Virginia, were to be described or at least to be enumerated; but such is not the case. Only the genera are described, a few species of each Phenogamous genus and Ferns, (particularly such species as are found in Connecticut and Massachusetts,) and only one species of every other Cryptogamous genus;the whole might have been added with great propriety, and it would not have much swelled the volume. By this addition we should have had a complete manual guide for Herborisations, &c. much cheaper and less bulky than Pursh; but now, many plants will be found by the student and the Botanist in their walks, and excursions, which they will be unable to find in this manual; but let them not on that account think that they are new.

Nearly 1400 species are however enumerated, and distinguished by short definitions, many of which will unhappily apply to several species, whence students. may be led into error. Several of the species are exotics in general cultivation ; they are a proper appendage, and are distinguished by the letter e. It is very much

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