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that rose,

career

That absent from my mind should be

A NIGHT SCENE. The thought that loves and looks to thee!

Now flaming no more on the soft-heaving Each happy hour that we have proved,

main, While love's delicious converse blended,

The sun's parting splendour is shed ; As 'neath the twilight star we roved,

Night's dark-rolling shades have enveloped Unconscious where our progress tended

the plain, Still brings my mind a soft relief, And bids it love the joys of grief !

And the twilight's faint visions have fled.

No longer in Day's gaudy colouring glows What soothing recollections throng, The landscape, in Nature's diversity gay: Presenting many a mournful token,

The loud-lowing herds are now lulled to reThat heart's rememabrance to prolong,

pose, Which then was blest, and now is broken !

And hushed are the sounds from the hamlet I cannot oh!!

hast thou forgot Our early loves this hallowed spot !

And the music that flowed from the spray. I almost think I see thee stand ; I almost dream I hear thee speaking ;

How solemn the Hour! In their splendid I feel the pressure of thy hand ; Thy living glance in fondness seeking

The planets revolving are seen ; Here all apart by all unseen

And the proud towering hills 'neath their Thy form upon my arm to lean !

glimmering appear

As the shadows of things that have been. Tho' beauty bless the landscape still, Tho' woods surround, and waters lave it,

Dread Silence, her empire o'er Nature to

prove, My heart feels not the vivid thrill, Which long ago thy presence gave it ;

Forbids that a whisper be heard in the vale, Mirth, music, friendship, have no tone

Save the breeze breathing soft through the

far-stretching grove, Like that, which with thy voice hath flown ! And Memory only now remains,

And the light curling waves in sweet cadence

that move To whisper things that once delighted : Still still I love to tread these plains,

Where the lake's gently kissed by the gale. To seek this sacred haunt benighted, From behind yon dark hill, in deep sable And feel a something, sadly sweet,

arrayed, In resting on this mossy seat.

The moon soars majestic and slow;

And her mild-beaming rays sweetly pierce 1.

thro' the shade POUR thy tears wild and free,

Of the thicket that waves on its brow
Balm best and holiest ;

And now her full orb o'er the mountain Fallen is the lofty tree,

impending, Low as the lowliest !

Sublime in bright glory she glows in the sky; Rent is the eaglet's plume,

A stream of soft light o'er the vallies deTowering victorious ;

scending; Read on the hero's tomb

On the lake's silver breast trees and cottages The end of the glorious.

blending 2.

With the splendours effulgent on high. Lean on that shivered spear,

Great Ruler of all! while transported I view It threatens no longer ;

This fabric so glorious and fair, Snapt like its high compeer,

Oh! teach me, with rapture and reverence The willow is stronger.

due, See on its dinted edge

To trace benign DEITY there
The last day-beam flashes,

Serene as yon orbs in thy radiance shine, If thine be the soul to stand

And light, life, and joy to creation impart, And number its gashes.

So fair from my soul beam thine image di3.

vine, Press not that hallowed mould, And fervent, diffusive, unchanging like In darkness enshrouded,

thine, Ashes, yet scarcely cold,

May benevolence glow in my heart. S. Beneath it are crowded : Thy feet o'er some noble heart

May stumble unheeding; O'er thy familiar friend

Written in Spring_1812. Perchance may be treading. REDEEMED from Winter'sdeadening reign, 4.

The joyful year revives again ;
Oh ! ye were scattered fast,

And flings, with rule-rejecting mirth,
Sons of the morning!

Her gladdening glories o'er the earth.
Triumph, but seen and past,

Through her full veins the transports run, Your proud brows adorning, And hark! the woodland hymn's begunAfter such mortal toil

From the close-foliaged grove the thrill
To slumber so soundly,

Comes softened up the breezy hill,
Can aught to the heart of man

With ceaseless bleat, and frequent low,
Speak so profoundly ?

And mountain-rivulets' dashing flow,
June, 1815.

B. And all the stir and din below.

LINES

-The blent, but soon selected, call And, 0 !--though cold and silent now, Of man, who loves and blesses all,

He feels that land still strong to bow With kingly accent, sweet though high, The pilgrim's heart with reverential dread! Completes the full-toned harmony.

2. Its thorns are in my breast--yet still But where are they—the Men of yoreI love this Earth with all its ill!

Whose deeds of fame that may not die, Though lone and heartless in the strife, Bade rise upon their native shore I dread the long fatigue of life

The home of holy Liberty ? And none to whom 'twere sweet to say, 0! rouse Ye at my voice of pain ! “ These heavens how bright! this earth 0! rise and look on Græcia now ! how gay !"

Reft of the gifts Ye gave—in vain, With meeting soul and kindred mood

The servile neck behold her bow, Endear the charms of solitude

And hug, with trembling hand, the chain Though every hour has on its wing

The Tartar binds around her brow!. A sadder tear, a sharper sting

3. And balm and blessing were in vain- Oh! bowed to earth-and crushed_and This friendless heart was formed for pain.

lone

Greece to my pensive eye appears
THE MERMAID.

A widow desolate, with quenchless tears
From the German of Goethe. Weeping her gods and all her heroes gone !

Alas! o'er all this lovely clime1.

In heart and soul by slavery wrung, THE sea-wave falls the sea-wave flows;

The dastard sons of sires sublime On lonely rock the Fisher lies,

Scarce know the land whereon they In clear cool stream his hook he throws,

sprung; And views the bait with wistful eyes ;

And feel-of all its glories gone,
And as his silent task he plies,

Or weak regretor memory none !
Behold! the floods apart are flung,
And where the circling eddies rise,

Greece Greece--alas! is all entombed A Mermaid's form hath upward sprung!

And all that fired, and blessed, and bloomed, 2.

Survive but in her ashes now! And soft her tones and sweet her song :

And only strangers sorrow there “0, Fisher ! why my train decoy ?

O'er ills—the deadliest-lands must bear “ With craft of man- still wise in wrong

Where tyrants reign and bondsmen bow! “ Why seek to change to death their joy? Yes! on these plains of yore so blest,

“O! wist thou here what tasks employ Where sleep in death's unbroken rest “ What bliss the tribes of ocean know,

The hearts with Sparta's king that bled, “ No more thy days should care annoy,

Their rankling chains a race of slaves “ But peace be sought these waves below!" Drag o'er a thousand heroes' graves, 3.

Nor ever dream what dust they tread !

5. “ And seeks not aye the glorious sun,

“ And beauteous moon, our watery rest? But, ho!—the tomb's dark thraldom break“ And springs not each, its course to run,

ing, “ Wave-wash'd, in tenfold glory drest ?

At length, Immortal Slumberers, waking, “ And charms not Thee in Ocean's breast

Arise-arise ! whose mighty story “ This nether heaven of loveliest blue ?

Shall live while nature's self endures ! “ Charms not thine own fair form imprest O come arrayed in all your glory, “ In liquid limning soft and true ?"

And Greece may live and yet be yours !

And, hark! the slave hath burst his chain, 4. The sea-wave falls—the sea-wave flows

And Triumph's raptures shares again! At length around his feet is flung;

New-born, he feels a Spartan's soul sublime,

And thrusts the Tartar from his sacred clime! He starts--the flame within him glows,

6. That erst on love's embraces hung !

But ah! in vain the voice of grief
And sweeter yet the sea-maid sung,

Is raised where all is desolate !
And sought, half-met, the charmed shore ;
Her arms around her victim flung-

No answering sound affords relief

To hearts that wail the wrongs of fate ; And ne'er was seen that Fisher more!

Death broods o'er these abandoned plains,
J. F.

And horror's frozen silence reignis !
Alas! the dream that soothed his soul

Too fleetly fled the minstrel mourns ;
From the French of Ardans.

Alas! when past th' infernal gaol (Almanach des Muses, pour 1815.) No demigod to earth returns !

And hark! while here my voice of woe 1. .

Is raised around their dwellings lowLED by the light of bards of yore

Repeating many a hero's name The minstrel seeks Illissus' shore :

With Sparta's linked-or Athen's fame,Like them inspired with holy rage

A turbaned Turk with sacrilegious blow That Greece, erewhile so great and sage, Lays the last column of Minerva low ! Greece, lovely still his footsteps tread;

J, F.

GREECE.

REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Private Memoirs, which, with the Work influence, but from the difficulty of , of M. Hue, and the Journal of Clery, maintaining them amidst the innucomplete the History of the Captivity merable facilities afforded to vice, by. of the Royal Family of France in the obsequiousness and flattery of serthe Temple. Translated from the vile dependents. Their happiness apa French, with Notes by the Trans- pears so far above all ordinary compelator ; 12mo, pp. 138. London, tition, that we view it without envy; Murray; Edinburgh, Blackwood. and over their miseries, perpetually,

contrasted in our minds with the THERE is something interesting even brighter aspect of their lot, we shed a in the title of this little publication. tear of unmingled compassion. Sovereigns and princes are so far re- Never have the best of these feelings moved from the observation of the rest been more powerfully awakened in of mankind, that public curiosity has our own breasts, than by the perusal always been directed with peculiar of this journal. Nothing, indeed, can eagerness to their private history. We be conceived more interesting than feel a very natural desire to “enter the circumstances in which it has apwithin the vail," which ceremony in- peared. It is continued to the day of the terposes between them and their sub- dauphin's death, and of course cone jects; to see them lay, aside the overa, tains much information which Clery powering lustre, which prevented our and Hue, in their journals, could not near approach and our steady gaze; and give. It is composed from notes, to observe how far they, who never ap- either made by stealth at the mopeared to our imaginations but in the ment, with pencils which the princess full meridian of felicity and of power, had found means to conceal from her approach in their retirement the level persecutors, or added immediately after of humanity, and are influenced by the her release from prison, and has therecommon motives and feelings of men, fore an air of simplicity and nature,

The memoirs of princes, therefore, which the feeling of the moment alone are always read with avidity, even could impress. It was written without though there be nothing very extra- any view to publication, and therefore, ordinary in their details. We con- represents, without disguise or concealtemplate with interest any portrait, ment, the miseries and the conduct of, which exhibits the minds of such ex- the ill-fated captives. It is written alted personages without the disguise by the Orphan of the Temple, whose of court costume : we have a secret restoration to her former dignity afa pride in comparing them with our. fords some compensation for her proselves; and in observing how com. tracted sufferings; and who, by her pletely their superiority vanishes, when virtues and her heroism, has com they are viewed apart from those ex- manded the admiration of the world, ternal advantages, which threw around and proved how much she had profitthem an adventitious glare.

ed in the school of affliction. This The abatement of admiration, how- interesting little work is not accomever, which such memoirs generally panied by any name, but it is avowed produce, is amply compensated by the at Paris ; and it is impossible to read better feelings which they excite. one page of it, without being con, We enter with full sympathy into the vinced that it is the genuine producjoys and sorrows to which we see royal tion of the illustrious personage to hearts

equally accessible with our own. whom it is ascribed. The familiarity into which we seem The narrative commences from the admitted with them is repaid with a 13th of August 1792, when the king proportionate degree of amity. Their and his family were committed to the faults, estimated by their temptations, Temple. They were accompanied to are scanned with a very indulgent eye; this melancholy abode by the Princess and their virtues derive additional lus- de Lamballe, of the house of Savoy, tre, not only from the extent of their widow of Louis de Bourbon, Prince of

Lamballe. Her attachment to the journal) “ the horrible man who had queen was enthusiastic. The prepare broken open the door of the king on ations for the journey to Montmedy the 20th of June 1792, and who had separated them for a time; and Ma- been near assassinating him. This dame de Lamballe sought refuge in man never left the tower, and was inEngland ; but when she heard of the defatigable in endeavouring to torment queen's recapture, no earnestness of him. One time he would sing before entreaty, or fear of danger, could pre- the whole family the Carmagnole, and vent her from rejoining her royal a thousand other horrors; again, knowfriend, whom she accompanied and ing that the queen disliked the smoke cheered during her dreadful trials, with of tobacco, he would puff it in her unequalled magnanimity and affec- face, as well as in that of the king, as tion. The unfortunate queen was not they happened to pass him." Such long permitted to enjoy the soothing were the indignities to which they conversation of this generous com- were daily exposed : but the horror of panion. The tyrannical mandate of the picture is relieved by the devoted the Commune de Paris forced Madame affection of this amiable family for de Lamballe from the Temple, to ex. each other, which seemed to beguile piate the crime of her devoted attach- them of the sense of their individual ment to the royal sufferer, by a death misery---to console them for all they attended with circumstances of atroci. had lost-to support them under all ty, “ unparalleled even in the annals of they had to suffer, and to fortify them France." This barbarous event was against all they had to fear. The communicated to the unhappy family health and education of the dauphin in the Temple, in a manner which was their principal care. For the sake strongly marked the brutality of the of his health, they went every day to Revolutionists. « At three o'clock, walk in the garden, though Louis never (3d of September) just after dinner, failed to be insulted by the guards. as the king was sitting down to tric. The king taught him geography; the trac with the queen, (which he played queen, history, and to get verses by for the purpose of having an oppor- heart; and Madame Elizabeth gave tunity of saying a few words to her him little lessons in Arithmetic. But unheard by the keepers,) the most hor- of the hope which mingled with these rid shouts were heard. Several offi- soothing employments they were soon cers of the guard and of the munici- to be deprived. On the 22d of Seppality now arrived the former insist- tember the republic was proclaimed ; ed that the king should shew himself and one evening in the beginning of at the windows ; fortunately the latter October, the king, after he had supopposed it; but, on his majesty's ask- ped, was told to stop; that he was not ing what was the matter, a young offi- to return to his former apartments; and cer of the guard replied: “Well, since that he was to be separated from his you will know, it is the head of Ma- family. At this dreadful sentence the dame de Lamballe that they wish to queen lost her usual courage ; and the show you.” At these words the queen officers were so much alarmed by her was overcome with horror ;-it was the silent and concentrated sorrow, that only occasion in which her firmness they allowed her and the other prinabandoned her. The noise lasted till cesses to see the king, but at meal times five o'clock. The prisoners learned only, and on condition that they should that the people had wished to force the speak loud, and in good French. At door, and that the municipal officers length, on the 11th of December, the had been enabled to prevent it only by king was summoned to the bar of the putting across it a tricoloured scarf, and Convention. The anxiety of his faby allowing six of the murderers to mily during his absence may be easily march round the tower with the head conceived. The queen, to discover of the princess, leaving at the door her what was going on, condescended for body, which they would have dragged the first time to question the officers

also. When this deputation enter- who guarded her-but they would tell ed, Rocher (the gaoler) shouted for her nothing. On his return in the joy, and brutally insulted a young wo- evening, she requested to see him inman, who turned sick with horror at stantly, but received no answer. Next this spectacle.'-This Rocher was (to day she repeated her request to see the adopt again the emphatic words of the king, and to read the newspapers, that. she might learn the course of the trial, and Madame Royale dressed the child, or if that should be refused, that the for his poor mother had no longer children at least might be permitted to strength for any thing. Nevertheless, see his majesty. The newspapers were when he was dressed, she took him refused; but the children were allow- and delivered him into the hands of ed to see their father, on condition of the officers, bathing him with her being separated entirely from their tears, foreseeing, possibly, that she was mother. To this privation, however, never to see him again. the king was too generous to expose The only pleasure the queen now enher.

joyed was, seeing her child through a The circumstances immediately pre chink as he passed from his room to the ceding and attending the execution of tower : at this chink she used to watch the unhappy monarch are known to for hours together. The barbarity all:-we cannot deny ourselves the with which the dauphin was treated satisfaction of transcribing the tribute has no parallel. He was committed paid by his daughter to the greatness to a man of the name of Simon, a of his conduct during his rigorous cape shoemaker by trade, then one of the tivity. During his confinement, he municipal officers. To this inhuman displayed the highest piety, greatness wretch, the boy's crying at being seof mind, and goodness;

-mildness, parated from his family, appeared an fortitude, and patience, in bearing the unpardonable crime and he soon immost infamous insults, the most hor- pressed him with such terror that he rid and malignant calumnies ; chris- did not dare to weep. Simon, .to intian clemency, which forgave even his sult the miseries of the unhappy sufmurderers; and the love of God, his ferers through the voice of this belovfamily, and his people, of which he ed child, made him every day sing at gave the most affecting proofs, even the windows the Carmagnole, and other with his last breath, and of which he revolutionary songs; and taught him went to receive the reward in the bo- the most horrid oaths and imprecasom of his Almighty and all-merciful rions against God, his own family, and Creator.”

the aristocrats. “ The queen fortunAfter the death of Louis, the perse- ately was ignorant of these horrors. cutions of his family became every day She was gone before thechild had learnmore rigorous. A decree the Com- ed his infamous lesson. It was an inmune, that the dauphin should be se- fliction which the mercy of Heaven parated from his mother and the prin- was pleased to spare

her." While this cesses, gave rise to a scene of affliction, unfortunate boy remained under the which is described with the most care of Simon, his bed had not been stirtouching simplicity.

red for six months, and was alive with As soon as the young prince heard bugs, and vermin still more disgusting. this sentence pronounced, he threw His linen and his person were covered himself into the arms of his mother, with them. For more than a year he and entreated, with violent cries, not had no change of shirt or stockings ! to be taken from her. The unhappy every kind of filth was allowed to acqueen was stricken to the earth by cumulate about him, and in his room. this cruel order. She would not part His window, which was locked as well with her son ; and she actually de- as grated, was never opened, and the fended, against the efforts of the offi- infectious smell of this horrid room cers, the bed in which she had placed was dreadful. He never asked for any him. But these men would have him, thing, so great was his dread of Simon and threatened to call up the guard and his other keepers. He passed his and use violence. The queen exclaim- days without any kind of occupation. ed, that they had better kill her than They did not even allow him light in tear her child from her. An hour was the evening. This situation affected spent in resistance on her part, in his mind as well as his body, and it is threats and insults from the officers, not surprising that he should have in prayers and tears on the part of the fallen into the most frightful atrophy. two other princesses. At last they But we must forbear to indulge farthreatened even the life of the child, ther in these melancholy details, earand the queen's maternal tenderness nestly recommending to our readers at length forced her to this sacrifice. the perusal of the journal itself. The Madame Elizabeth (the king's sister), queen and Madame Elizabeth, a prin.

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