and poetry, is to put something for mastication between the upper and lower mandibles. Alike in all these cases, and in the instance of cowardice or fear of any sort, from the loss of life to the loss of spoons, the majesty of man is violated. He, whom all things should serve, serves some one of his own tools. In fine pictures, the head sheds on the limbs the expression of the face. In Raphael's Angel driving Heliodorus from the Temple, the crest of the helmet is so remarkable, that but for the extraordinary energy of the face, it would draw the eye too much; but the countenance of the celestial messenger subordinates it, and we see it not. In poor pictures, the limbs and trunk degrade the face. So among the women in the street, you shall see one whose bonnet and dress are one thing, and the lady herself quite another, wearing withal an expression of meek submission to her bonnet and dress; and another whose dress obeys and heightens the expression of her form. More food for the comic is afforded whenever the personal appearance, the face, form, and manners, are subjects of thought with the man himself. No fashion is the best fashion for those matters which will take care of themselves. This is the butt of those jokes of the Paris drawing-rooms, which Napoleon reckoned so formidable, and which are copiously recounted in the French Memoires. A lady of high rank, but of lean figure, had given the Countess Dulauloy the nickname of "Le Grenadier tricolore," in allusion to her tall figure, as well as to her republican opinions; the countess retaliated by calling Madame "the Venus of the Pere la Chaise," a compliment to her skeleton which did not fail to circulate. 66 Lord C." said the Duchess of Gordon, "Oh, he is a perfect comb, all teeth and back." The Persians have a pleasant story of Tamerlane, which relates to the same particulars. "Timur was an ugly man; he had a blind eye and a lame foot. One day when Chodscha was with him, Timur scratched his head, since the hour of the barber was come, and commanded that the barber should be called. Whilst he was shaven, the barber gave him as usual a looking-glass in his hand. Timur saw himself in the mirror and found his face quite too ugly. Therefore he began to weep; Chodscha also set himself to weep, and so they wept for two hours. this, some courtiers began to comfort Timur, and entertained On earnest. him with strange stories in order to make him forget all about it. Timur ceased weeping, but Chodscha ceased not, but began now first to weep amain, and in good At last, said Timur to Chodscha, Hearken! I have looked in the mirror, and seen myself ugly. Thereat I grieved, because although I am Caliph, and have also much wealth, and many wives, yet still I am so ugly; therefore have I wept. But thou, why weepest thou without ceasing?' Chodscha answered, 'If thou hast only seen thy face once, and at once seeing hast not been able to contain thyself, but hast wept, what should we do, we who see thy face every day and night? If we weep not, who should weep? Therefore have I wept.' Timur almost split his sides with laughing." Politics also furnishes the same mark for satire. What is nobler than the expansive sentiment of patriotism, which I would find brothers in a whole nation? But when this enthusiasm is perceived to end in the very intelligible maxims of trade, so much for so much, the intellect feels again the half man. Or what is fitter than that we should espouse and carry a principle against all opposition? but when the men appear who ask our votes as representatives of this ideal, we are sadly out of countenance. But there is no end to this analysis. We do nothing that is not laughable, whenever we quit our spontaneous sentiment. All our plans, managements, houses, poems, if compared with the wisdom and love which man represents, are equally imperfect and ridiculous. But we cannot afford to part with any advantages. We must learn by laughter, as well as by tears and terrors; explore the whole of nature, the farce and buffoonery in the yard below, as well as the lessons of poets and philosophers upstairs, in the hall,and get the rest and refreshment of the shaking of the sides. But the comic also has its own speedy limits. Mirth quickly becomes intemperate, and the man would soon die of inanition, as some persons have been tickled to death. The same scourge whips the joker and the enjoyer of the joke. When Carlini was convulsing Naples with laughter, a patient waited on a physician in that city, to obtain some remedy for excessive melancholy, which was rapidly consuming his life. The physician endeavored to cheer his spirits, and advised him to go to the theatre and see Carlini. He replied, "I am Carlini." VOL. IV. ODE TO BEAUTY. WHO gave thee, O Beauty! When first my eyes saw thee, By magical drawings, Love drinks at thy banquet Thou intimate stranger! Thou latest and first! The sun and sea, Informed by thee, Before me run And draw me on, Yet fly me still, As Fate refuses To me the heart Fate for me chooses. Was mingled from the generous whole, - And the sands whereof I'm made I turn the proud portfolios, I hear the lofty pæans Which always find us young, Oft in streets or humblest places Thee gliding through the sea of form, No feet so fleet could ever find, Quick and skilful to inspire Sweet extravagant desire, All that's good and great, with thee Thou hast bribed the dark and lonely And the cold and purple morning Equal trophies of thine art; E'en the flowing azure air Thou hast touched for my despair; ALLSTON'S FUNERAL. THE summer moonlight lingered there, As night's mild beams the dying tree. That storied smile was on thy face, |