All hall, again, great Anglo-Norman tongue!

Thou comest on my ear Ho richly fraught
With melodies from life's deep fountains sprung,

And harmonies of feeling and of thought,

I seem to hear the voice of her, who taught My infant mind to shape itself to thee,

Of those, who in youth's dreamy passions wrought The work of love, of hate, of grief, of glee, Of Beauty's holy rest or rapt solemnity.


Bach word and accent has a tale to tell,

Like early friends met beneath foreign skies. And, as I yield mo passive to thy spell,

Upon Imagination's canvass rise

Their forms—the good, the beautiful, the wise,— Who taught the aspiring soul its noblest aim:

Nor absent his, who laboured to devise
Temptation to its ruin, and whose name
Still kindles up disgust, or anger's keener flame.

Sor docs the spirit its own past career

Alone from thy resources thus repair:
The thoughts of millions fill thy atmosphere,

As warm and genial sunlight fills the air—
Thy atmosphere, in which the odours are

Sweet poesy, and science is the gale;

And he, who therein lives, though it may bear,
At times, miasma's transitory bale,
Knowledge and beauty must, as daily breath, inhale.


Defender of the truth and steadfast foe

Of error and deceit, even from the dawn
Of thy renown, when WyokJtflVs sturdy blow

Was levelled at imposture, nor withdrawn

From sanctity of mitro or of lawn,
Through Tyndal, Ridley, Latimer, aud him

Who bent not though a monarch stooped to fawn,
Reckless of force, of fraud, and Beauty's whim,
To names of recent days whom time can never dim,


Hast thou appeared, the advocate of pure

Unshrinking liberty of life and faith. And yet, thy virtues puritan secure

No stern monopoly. No cant bewrayeth

In merriment the preacher, nor gainsalth That hearty humour, which, as all thine own,

Through Addison, Swift, Sterne, and Goldsmith playetl Nor is thy playfulness for such alone; But every merry thought can find in theo a tone.


And for the gentle heart, that would express
The suffering, by which 'tis called to grieve,

Thou hast a key of tender plaintiveness
Soft as the sephyr of a summer eve,
Which even the heaven-ascending sigh to leave.

Such swan-like melodies, young Bruce, were thine;
Such, pensive White, the fabric thou didst weave

Of kind-affeetioned words; such the divine

Fragments of dying Keats, and Tigho's enchanting line.


Thou humblest thyself to every care—
The lowliest task to human labour known;

And, in assuaging revelation, where
Languish the poor, disease's victims groan.
Or conscience-stricken wretches would atone

For bitter guilt by self-condemning tale.

Hast thou the gates of utterance open thrown;

And where thy deep heart-searching meanings fail,

Where fail they ever must, what other can avail?


But when a Hamlet's or Othello's wo,
The pangs sublime of pandemonian king,

Immortal triumph o'er immortal foe,
Or the glad theme which ransomed spirits sing,
Demands the service of a bolder string,

As little do thy energies refuse,—
Nay rising, buoyant as an angel's wing,

Where thy high argument its path pursues,

Thou soarest beyond the flight of Greek or Roman mi


What words like thine supply the fluent tongue
With instruments of winning eloquence,

Which, scattering to the wind the arts of wrong,
And sifting, equally from the pretence
Of anarch and of despot, honest sense,

Can charm into conviction, and inspire
That pure delight words can alone dispense,

When to high meaning chimes their lofty choir,

And Truth from Beauty draws new cogency and fire.

Such was the sceptre by thy Wilberforce,
Thy Burke, thy Murray, and thy Canning swayed,

Till tyrants yielding smiled on Freedom's course,
And lawless rapine in his rage was stayed—
Whilo yet more glorious thy achievements made

In nations kindled to the heavenly call
By Whitfield's seraph tongue, and Faith arrayed

In science and in poesy from all

The intellectual wealth of Chalmers and of Hall.


And yet, they say there's harshness in thy tone!—
It may become the vain, who boast their lore

In other tongues, though smatterers in their own,
To vaunt the value of their foreign store,
And sneer at the harmonious chords which pour

Alike the solemn organ-notes that swell
The song of Paradise, while saints adore,

The Doric strains of Burns, and those that dwell

With Cowper, Coleridge, Gray, and Wordsworth's heavenly shell;


Which, from the warblings of unhappy Clare,

And the sweet minor of a Tannahill, To fiercest wailings of sublime despair,

Which to the sweeping touch of Byron thrill

The bosoms, which they horrify and fill
With alt a Titan's suffering, command

The diapason of the heart and will;
But elsewhere seekcth not the master's hand
For keys to speak the true, the lovely, or the grand.


Interpreter of free and ardent souls,

Bold in thy strength, unshackled by the fear Of censorship, whose living thunder rolls

Indignantly majestic and severe,

The foes of Liberty to blast and scar— The flaming sword of Chatham, Fox, and Brougham,

And him, whose kindling words alone could rear The standard of the free, dispel their gloom, Make nations be, and men their native rights resume,


Tis true that thou hast discords sharp and loud—
And so hath Heaven—against the hour of need:

On whomsoever bursts thy thundercloud
Has found thy wrath no opera chant indeed,

Nor set to measures of the melting reed— For every passion of the human breast,

All trains of thought, however they proceed, And every common topic of inquest, Thou hast a fitting garb, an armour of the best.


Grant me to know the treasures of thy reign,

To wield at will the wealth which they afford; For every dream, conviction, joy, and pain,

Promptly to grasp thy well-befitting word;

With thee to launch into the far explored, Yet boundless regions of the human soul;

I shall not envy polyglots their hoard, Though fair the dormant pile;—the free control Of current life, like thine, transcends the boasted whole.



Thk Wizard sat in his cave of night,

That shone like day. with a magic light,—

A flame as still as the witches' fire,

And lit at the top of a spiral wire I Beside his foot was a torturer's rack

That with never a motion would wrench the bones, And spurn the touch of the victim back.

While the Wizard laughed to hear his groans I Anon the wretch's startled hair

Would stand, with horror, on its ends; While sparkles hissed from his clenching fist

As from an angry fiend's.

The Wizard's cave was stored with things,

Which only the Wizard knew;
Shapeless things with legs nor wings,

And yet that ran and Hew;
Without or tongues, or throated lungs,

And yet that spoke and blew!
Was many a bone around him thrown,

And skulls that grinned for lack of lips,
And many a stone that had been thrown

From the dark moon in eclipse!

He held in a flagon a strange fire-dragon,

That ate up steel like straw;
And the prisoned wind, like a bottled fiend,

Obeyed his mighty law.
One Imp, who was hid in a dull brown stone,

Would make a hob-nail dance and skip;
To the wanderer of the farthest zone
He must point the path, to man unknown,

And guide the starless ship.

Another was sealed, for penance-shame,
In an iron cross on a gallows-frame,
And standing alone, as by will of his own,
He whirled and whirled, and spun and spun,
Till it seemed the fiend would never be done;
But the touch of the Wizard made him tame.

0! the Wizard was a mighty man;

The mountains bowed, and lightnings ran,

Obedient to his word:
He forged a tireless "Iron Horse,"

Wild racer of an iron course,

As fleet as fairest bird;
His mighty bulk, with all their force,

Ten men could never have stirr'd;
But he gave him resinous wood to gnaw,
And stuffed with fire his iron maw,
And poured a river down his throat;
And miles away, the people say,

They heard, with noise like a drum-beat's roll,

The systole and the diastole,*
When his giant pulses smote,
While he ran till the gales pursued in vain,
To lift his backward-streaming mane.

The Wizard weighed, in his either scale,

The planets, every one;
Through the meshes of its burning veil

He looked into the sun;
He drew the moon with his magic eye,

As a snake would draw a bird;
And down the depths of the utmost sky,

His whispered voice was heard.

The faithful image, that comes and goes

On the mirror's placid face,
The power of his necromancy froze,
In a vivid shape of fixed repose,—

Unmoving life and grace;
And under his eye a demon lay,

Ubiquitous, strong, and tame,
Who knew the thoughts of the far away,
And spread them, as far Judgment Day,
Graved with the point of an iron pen,
Fast as they fell from the brains of men,

Though many a thousand miles they came.
0, the Wizard was a mighty man!
Mightier none since earth began.
Tongue would weary and pen would fail

To tell the marvels of his power,
And men would count the startling tale

The dream of a frenzied hour.

• We mean no offence to Greek, in breaking the neck of its accents, and curtailing its quantities;—the verse would have them as they are.—Author.

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Fio. 1. Fig. 2.


Figure 1. Full Dress Visiting Toilette.—Bonnet of velvet epingle, vert Prisident, which is a shade of vert oeillet or carnation green, a little less gray than tho natural colour of the foliage of the carnation. The face is a little full at the top, enclosing well the cheeks, and embracing the chin. Around the edge of the face is affixed a strip of frizzed feathers, and on each side a noeud of three feathers, one rising upon the faco and the other two falling in rolls below the cape. These aro of the same colour as tho bonnet. Under-trimming, two nceuds of white riband, from which proceed two small white plumes, which give an air of great sweetness to the expression of the countenance.

Dress of violet silk. Corsage high, open in front, almost to the waist, with five rows of trimming, composed each of two narrow volants of violet riband with rounded scal

lops. The three upper rows are interrupted by the opening of the corsage, but the two below pass across it over the beautiful lace guimpe which fills it. Upon the front of the skirt are a like number of rows of similar trimming, each composed of three volants of graduated widths aud lengths, those toward the lower edge being longer and wider than those above.

Sleeves a little wide, demi-long, with the sesm toward the side, along which and around the lower part, pass two rows of trimming like that described above, and a third row around the lower part only. Under-sleeves of three rows of lace, falling extremely large and full over the hand.

Figure 2. Full Dress Home Toilette —Robe of light green silk, with corsage opening square in front, and the opening edged with festooned dents of silk of a deeper green. At a little distance from the edge is a row of narrow network trimming, passing all round and descending in a V upon the corsage, almost to the end of the point in front. Below the square opening within this V, is embroidery work in silk, of two shades of green. A basquino is formed by the little wings at the side, extending toward the hips. The point of tho corsage is Tcry long and rounded. Sleeves rather large, trimmed round the lower part like tho edge of the corsage. From under this appears a very full volant with large rounded dents, subdivided by smaller ones, and ornamented with two rows of network, and above each larger dent with a pretty rose, the buds and foliage of which, placed at its sides, form a garland. Very ample under-sleeves of two rows of white lace. Around tho jupe are two very wide flounces, ornamented like those on the sleeves, except that the dents, the roses, and tho garland are all larger and wider.

Small cap of lace, with sharp dentsi it is of one circular piece, gathered below at the back of the head. On each side, falling from the temples, are thick tufts of narrow ribands, pink and green mixed, formed in circles or rings. Hair upon the forehead in little flat carls.—Coiffure a la Josephine.

[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small]

plain. Corsage of whito lace, finished at the neck by a narrow gathered lace ruffle. Corsage gathered a littlo at the waist. Sleeves loose, straight, and rather short. There is a design of flowers down in front, and at the edges of the sleeves; the rest is in seed spots. Belt like the skirt, and with long ends.

Small round cap of white lace. This cap is of three divisions, one of white lace, flat upon the head and extending to the forehead, and one on each side of the head. The latter are formed each of two roses, enclosed in shells of black velvet, and these in shells of white lace. Hair in puffing bandeaux.

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Figure 4. ZMstte Parte.—Robe of green taffetas. Corsage low. Long pointed busk. Sleeves short and plain. Skirt very full. Attached to the corsage is a bertho of black lace, held at the shoulders and at the middle by bunches of roses with foliage. From the middle bunch depend three green ribands. Chemisette of white lace. The skirt is trimmed with three flounces of black lace. The upper flounce is gathered up at the side by two littlo bouquets like those on the corsage. For the second the lace is sewed to the skirt all round, except at the two sides' where it is festooned by bouquets larger than those above. The third is like the second, except that the bosquets are still larger, and have three ends of green riband depending from each.

The front hair i s drawn back to the crown of the head. On the right is a row of small roses, and on the left a nocud of green ribands, with long loose ends falling to the shoulder; between theso is a connexion formed of a narrow strip of black lace.


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Hume's History Op England. Mesrrs. Phillips d? Sampson, of Bolton, in issuing the sixth and last volume of their excellent edition of Hume, announce that it will be followed by an edition of Gibbon, in the same popular and commendable style. For sale by J. W. Moore, Philadelphia.

Etiquette Por Ladies. J. a}J. L. Gihon, Philadelphia. Many ladies, married and unmarried, might save themselves a world of trouble and mortification, by having this little book by them for occasional reference. "Etiquette," it Is true, is based upon good sense and charity. So is Cookery based upon Physiology and Chemistry. But for the practical purposes of life, a Cookery Book is a very useful article, notwithstandingso are Manuals of Etiquette, like this just published by the Messrs. Gihon.

Desultoria. Baker d- Scribner. The author of " Desultoria," under the fiction of the "Recovered MSS. of an Eccentrie," has given us a curious and charming miscellany of opinions, criticisms, sentiment, and what not—the gist of much reading and thought without the prolixity of more formal discussion. For sale by J. W. Moore, Philadelphia.

The EnoLisn Language. By the Sev. Matthew Harrison, A.M. Philadelphia: E. C.Biddle. We regard this volume as a valuable and seasonable contribution to English literature, and sincerely thank the American publishers for reproducing it here. We would warmly urge all our young writers and scholars—and the veterans too—to procure a copy. It is not a grammar, but an able and enlightened discussion of the leading disputed points of English Grammar, prefaced by an historical sketch of the rise and progress of the language.

Miscellanies. By J. T.Headley. Baker Scribner. This volume contains some of Mr. Headley's most brilliant contributions to periodical literature. He informs us in the preface, that it was not his intention to collect and prepare these for publication for several years to come, but that he has been hurried into it by a surreptitious and unauthorized issue of the same from some other publishing house. We take it for granted that a knowledge of this fact will deter the public from purchasing the surreptitious edition. Every author, in transferring produc

tions of this kind from their transient form to one suited for permanent use, makes numerous alterations and improvements, as Mr. Headley has done in the present instance. Readers, therefore, who value the author's writings at all, will be careful to obtain them in their genuine and authentic shape. For sale by J. W. Moore, Philadelphia.

Memoirs Op William Wirt. By John P. Kennedy. Lea at Blanchard. Second Edition. The rapid sale of the first edition of this work is the best commentary on its character and value. In some cases a work of this kind is soon bought up on account of something very fresh or exciting in the subject. But in the present case, there is nothing of this kind. Mr. Wirt has been dead now some sixteen years, and has already gone comparatively out of the public mind. The book, by its own merit and excellence, has brought him back. It is a just and fitting tribute to one who ought always to live in the hearts of Americans, and it is from a pen eminently fitted, in every way, for Ibe labour of love which he has so well discharged.

Dark Scenes Op Histort. By 67. P. R. James. New York: Harper di Brothers. All of James's Novels show great historical reading. He may have made mistakes in some of his historical fictions. What professed historian has not? No living writer has given us so much true history in the shape of fiction, as Mr. James. In the present volume, he has brought together certain deeply interesting portions of history, without the veil of fiction. The topics are "Amboise of France," "Arthur of England," "Perkin Warbcck," the last days of "The Templars," "The Albigenses," the "Conspiracy of Cueva," ** Walienstein," and "Herod the Great." This enumeration of subjects is the best description of the book, which is in truth a most curious and valuable historical miscellany.

Pope's Works. A New Edition. Crissy dz Markley, of Philadelphia, have just published a new and very desirable edition of the Poetical Works of Pope, in one volume, 8vo., uniform with the common octavo editions of Coleridge, Byron, Scott, Burns, Shelley, Ac. It is prefaced with Dr. Johnson's Life of Pope.

The Mercersdcro Review. This is an exceedingly able periodical, published once in two months, by the Alumni Association of Marshall College. It Is chiefly theological in its character. The articles in the January number are, "The New Creation," "Universal History," "Brownson's Quarterly Review," "The Old Palatinate Liturgy," and "Faith, Reverence, and Freedom.''

The Gallery Op Hxcstrigus Americans. Brady, D"Avignon d) Lester. In the case of a really good work, a true description of it is often its highest commendation. It is so In the present instance. But how to describe it fairly, is the difficulty. We will at least give a bill of items. The publishers propose to issue twenty numbers or parts, each to be complete in itself, and each to contain an engraved portrait and a brief biography of some distinguished American who has flourished since the death of Washington. The portraits are taken from the gallery of Mr. Brady, the well-known dnguerreotypist of New York; the engravings are executed under the immediate superintendence of the artist, D'Avignon; while Mr. Lester, as

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