—to Geometry. In no department of know- 1 greatest inquirers. The invaluable labours of ledge is such an unmixed pleasure taken in Galileo were ridiculed as useless, and, by inthe simple contemplation of truth as in these. sisting that knowledge must be lucrative, point No rhetorical art, no figures of speech have was given to the text of the itinerant friar, had such potent charms as the crabbed figures who, wretchedly punning upon the name of of arithmetic. It would be a strange sight Galileo, preached against him from the words, now-a-days, to see a venerable mathematician, "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up such as our Bowditch was, break forth, like him into Heaven ?” Must it not quench the poet's of old, who, when the solution of a problem that inspiration to be perpetually reminded by the had long defied his sagacity, flashed upon him, whole spirit of the age that he must prove the rushed out into the street, shouting at the top use of his beauteous creations ? « Of what of his voice, “I have found it! I have found conceivable use," many cry, “is a man's learnit!”? And yet, every one who has given par- ing, if it brings him in no money ?” Happily ticular attention to studies of this sort, sympa- for us, the great inventors and discoverers, the thizes with the enthusiasm that prompted to philosophers and poets never reasoned thus. such an outbreak, and knows by personal ex- They recognised the absolute as well as the perience, the pleasure produced by the simple relative value of truth; and for its own dear perception of mathematical truth. What a sake they toiled. There were no price-currents striking illustration of the intrinsic beauty of in the days of Homer and Milton. And had knowledge is given in the notices of Archi- there been such things then, think you, those medes! So engrossing was his devotion to his great men would have looked into them to see darling science, that he forgot to eat and drink whether epic poems were in demand, before and pay common attention to his person; and they set to work to produce the Iliad and the when they dragged him to the bath, he occu- Paradise Lost? Or was Walter Scott prevented pied himself with drawing diagrams in the from writing those brilliant romances by the ashes, or on the ointment which was put upon knowledge that novels had long been a drug? his body. He held it to be trifling with the By watching all so anxiously for the pracpure truths which he studied, even to apply tical results of knowledge, we are sure to dethem to the construction of engines for the de- feat ourselves, and lose the very advantages fence of the city where he dwelt, against the we are so eager to secure. Here is a weighty formidable armies of Rome. And when he had reason why we should insist upon the intrinsic put them to use in this way with such success worth of knowledge. If it is to be turned to a that; if but the end of a bare pole appeared useful account, it must be first and principally above the walls, the besiegers were smitten loved and sought for itself. That is a comprewith the dread of some new machinery to be hensive saying of Bacon's, familiar to us all, turned against them, still the power and the that if we would command Nature, we must renown thus acquired, seemed to him but as first implicitly obey her. The same may be the baubles of a child, in comparison with the said of knowledge. If we would have knowdelicious pleasures of Geometry. Amidst the ledge to be our faithful servant, we must learn uproar of the siege, he fled to his beloved pur- to woo her as a bride. Or, in plainer phrase, suit; and when the city was taken, he was it must be sought as an end, if it is to be effecfound lost in study. The law of self-defence, tual as a means. It is easy enough to cultiwhich, we are assured, is the first law of na- vate some one faculty of the mind, the memory, ture, was to him no law at all. He forgot that for instance, and accumulate an immense store he had a life to defend, and resented the en- of facts, which, instead of proving a coat of trance of the soldier who rushed in upon him mail to the understanding, shall only weaken with a drawn sword, not as a peril to his and overpower it. It is common to speak of person, but as a very impertinent intrusion on what is committed to memory, as so much got his studies, and begged him to wait until the by heart. So the phrase runs. It is singudemonstration was finished, and then he would larly false. For what is usually committed to attend to him.

memory, however trippingly it comes from the The peremptory demand of our times that tongue, very seldom has a deeper origin, and knowledge shall be immediately available to has very little to do with the heart. But if it some profitable purpose, has the effect, not is knowledge that we want, knowledge that only to cut off every branch of knowledge as shall fit us to meet the various and untried worthless, which does not give immediate pro- occasions of life, and make us stronger for mise of fruit, (as classical learning for in- what we know, real, living knowledge, it must stance,) but it tends to chill the genial glow of be worked up with the very life of our being. our native curiosity. It cools the ardour of As the Mexicans, when they first saw a horseintellectual activity. Already has this econo-man, mistook the appearance for one animal, mical disposition stood in the way of the so our knowledge, if it is to serve our purposes, must not only seem, but be, one with us. And ready to confess that no wealth nor honours to acquire such knowledge, we must pursue it can for an instant compare with the bare perfor its own sake, and seek it as hidden trea-ception of a great truth. " Take, take away,” sure. If we are for ever computing its profits, once exclaimed one of these men, “the gaudy looking over and beyond what we have in hand triumphs of the world, the long, deathless to do, to the distinction we are to acquire, or shout of fame, and give me back that uneasy the money to be made, or the good even which rapture, when truth first burst upon the staris to result to others, our attention will cer- | tled sight.” tainly be distracted, and we shall lack that of all the labour ever done under the sun, hearty concentration of our strength, which that of the Alchymists was the most worthless. alone will enable us to grapple with a subject, And for a plain reason; they were actuated and “tear out the very heart of it.”

not by a generous thirst for knowledge, but by It is interesting to remark, in this connex motives confessedly selfish, the love of life, and ion, how continually we defraud ourselves, of the accursed thirst for gold. They explored all true pleasure and profit, by looking all too nature not for truth, but for the Elixir of Life anxiously for the effect to be produced on us and the Philosopher's Stone, with the one to by any great work of Nature or Art. Hence turn all things into gold, and to prolong this it happens that any new and wonderful sight, mortal existence indefinitely with the other. whose beauty has been loudly and generally | As they were impelled by these sordid principublished, seldom produces its full effect at ples, their toil, than which none was ever first, because men look for the effect, and not more indefatigable, came to nothing. Occaat the thing itself. Hardly an individual re- sionally indeed, their higher nature proved turns from visiting Niagara, who does not con- too strong for them; and losing sight of their fess to a feeling of disappointment, when that selfish ojects they had their curiosity awamiracle first opened upon his view. The rea- kened by the mysterious relations and affinities son is obvious. Men visit that world-renowned of matter, incidentally disclosed in the course spot, thinking, not of what they are going to of their investigations. Thus they rendered see, but of what they are going to feel, not of incidental service to the invaluable science of the Falls, but of themselves. With the atten- Chemistry; and so their pursuits were rescued tion thus distracted, they fail of receiving a from unqualified contempt. full impression of the wonder. Were any one, How important it is to the very utility of of a bright moonlight night, to be suddenly knowledge that we should recognise its essentransported in his sleep, for an hour, to the tial worth, and, whatever other advantages it foot of Niagara, there can be little doubt, that, may bring, account the simple possession of it when, startled from his slumbers, by the great our chief pleasure, is shown in the case of voice of the waters, he should behold the stu- many of those who have been most distinpendous spectacle, he would be overwhelmed guished for their intellectual successes. How by the sublime vision, and, after sleeping often has it happened that they who have made through the remainder of the night, if indeed the greatest advances in science, and laid the he could sleep again that night, without some world under the greatest obligations, have potent drug, what a glorious dream would he died in extreme poverty, while others were have to tell in the morning! So it is with the making fortunes out of their inventions. From acquisition of knowledge. In whatever depart- such cases it would seem that a single eye to ment a man labours, be it History, Science, knowledge is incompatible with the existence the Fine Arts, or Philosophy, he will be cer- in the same individual of those provident tain to miss the delights of knowledge, if he qualities which enable a man to clutch the does not lose himself in his peculiar pursuit. main chance at a good living. Science is very He must give up his heart to it without re- jealous of the affection of her votaries, and he serve or stipulation. Undoubtedly there are who would win her triumphs must give her numbers who are impelled to the pursuit of his whole heart. We mourn over the fate of knowledge, not by a pure love of knowledge, those, who, while they have made splendid disbut for the sake of her dower, for the distinc-coveries, have lived in want; as if they had retion they will obtain. But precisely to the ceived no reward. But if they had known extent to which their vision has been double, that they could not have both, wisdom and and not single, and they have looked to fame wealth, and had been permitted to choose, and not to science, they have failed of both; would they have hesitated a single instant ? and never has the intelleotual labourer so They would immediately have cried, “Let obtruly deserved renown, and so richly won it, scurity come, and incessant labour, and the as when, in the enthusiasm of his pursuits, he extremest poverty, but give us knowledge, no has forgotten both the praise, and the very ex- | matter at what cost of personal comfort; we istence of the world. Such an one, is ever I shall account ourselves only too favoured."

And here we are reminded of a passage it, but for his vanity or ambition. The true in that admirable Essay of Mrs. Barbauld's sign of intellectual life is not the quantity of "Upon the Inconsistency of our Expecta- information one has acquired, nor the abuntions.” It should be written upon every young dance of the appliances of learning which he man's heart. “Is knowledge,” asks this has collected in the shape of books and librawriter, “the pearl of great price? That too ries, but a steadily increasing desire of knowmay be purchased by steady application, and ledge. The poor man, who has to show, as long solitary hours of study and reflection. his sole literary wealth, only an odd volume, Bestow these and you shall be wise. But,' well thumbed, of some standard work, nay, says the man of letters, what a hardship is the “swart artisan," who has not even a book, it that many an illiterate fellow, who cannot but who, while he is toiling amidst smoke and construe the motto of the arms on his coach, fire at the anvil or the forge, is greedy to shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while know the properties of iron, is more truly an I have little more than the common conveni- educated man than he who sits in the pride of ences of life.' Was it then in order to raise a learning amidst whole shelves of folios. The fortune that you consumed the sprightly hours love of knowledge is the one thing essential. of youth in study and retirement ? Was it to This point is well illustrated in the “Contribube rich that you grew pale over the midnight tions of Q. Q.” by two soliloquies, the one of a lamp and distilled the sweetness from the young lady just from school, who is supposed, Greek and Roman spring? You have then as the term is, to have finished her education, mistaken your path, and ill-employed your in- and who, wonderful creature! has nothing dustry. What reward have I then for all my more to learn. Shé enumerates with great labours ? What reward! A large comprehen- satisfaction the ologies she has gone clean sive soul, well cleansed from vulgar fears and through, and truly the amount is no trifle. perturbations and prejudices; able to compre- But on the next page, a philosopher is introhend and interpret the works of man-of God. duced, one who has descended into the depths A rich, flourishing, cultivated mind, pregnant of knowledge and brought back as his deepest with inexhaustible stores of entertainment and conviction, a sense of his own ignorance. reflection. A perpetual spring of fresh ideas, From what has been said it follows that the and the conscious dignity of superior intelli- common excuse given by men engaged in the gence. Good heaven! and what reward can active pursuits of life for the entire neglect of you ask besides ?” Even in the humblest oc- intellectual culture is quite beside the mark. cupations, however the desire of gain, and the “Why,” they ask, “why should we submit to ambition of rising in the world may tend to such hard labour, and read and study? Of stimulate men's energies and insure their eleva what earthly use is it to us? It does very well tion, he is, after all and in the end, the most for those whose profession is learning in one successful artisan, as he certainly is the hap- form or another, but it is no concern of ours." piest man, who seeks not money nor distinction Let it be that, commercially speaking, the chiefly, but perfection in his art, and is bent, | pursuit of knowledge is of no use to the man not only upon knowing the true principles of of business, that it will not help the sale of a his trade, but also upon realizing his know single bale of goods, but rather, through the ledge in the product of his labour.

diversion of mind it may occasion, cause a From what we have said it follows that the lucrative transaction now and then to misone thing most desirable to possess is not any carry, still it is a fact, that is not to be igamount of information, however large, but an nored, that in every man, whatever may be his ardent thirst for knowledge. Not he that walk in life, active or retired, there burns, knows much is the true lover of knowledge, more or less brightly, the divine fire of mind. but he, who, whether he knows much or little, Every man has that in him which no mechaniis eager to know more, in whom the desire of cal routine will satisfy, which demands knowknowledge burns an unquenchable flame. "A ledge as its natural sustenance, and the absolittle knowledge is a dangerous thing." If this lute condition of its growth. If there were saying be taken without a very essential quali- men who have nothing to do with the acquisification, then is all knowledge dangerous. For tion of knowledge, one cannot but think that the amount of all human knowledge is very little there would be a difference between their in comparison with the actual sum of truth. whole structure, and that of the wise and But it is not the little knowledge that is dan- educated, a difference, that is not at all disgerous, but the knowledge, whether little or coverable now upon the closest inspection. If great, that is accounted by its possessor the man of business has no use for a mind, he enough, and which he makes no effort and has would have been made very differently. As no desire to increase. By this estimation of one is sometimes said to be born with a silver it, he shows that he holds it, not in the love of spoon in his mouth, the business man would

have come into life with a pen behind his ear, 1 employment by any studies of his, pushed far and with an instinctive faculty for the calcula- into the night, for he grew very weary, and tion of interest, simple and compound. But was soon seen hovering round the old shop, there is no such wide difference as this among until at last he went in, and begged as a partimen. Noble words and the history of noble cular favour that they would let him know deeds cause all men to thrill and glow, and their melting days, and he would come and every man sympathizes with his fellow-men in help them. Thus, fitted by no preparation for the progress of knowledge, and in the discove- the retirement which he had been looking forries of science. In every soul of us there is a ward to for years, he was forced to fly for hunger to know, which is feeble only when it relief to the most disgusting part of his old is neglected. For the sake of this precious business. When we hear men promising thempart of us, knowledge is to be sought, be our selves a refined literary leisure hereafter, occupations what they may. The mind has while the common cares of life are twisting wants far more vital than those of the body. their roots in with the whole texture of their The reader has read in his childhood of the minds, and binding every faculty round and Prince in the Eastern story, who, by some round, we are reminded of the old lady who magical charm, was turned, one half of him was observed to attend daily upon the drawing into marble, so that while one side was living of a lottery. One of the clerks, noting her flesh, the other was cold immovable stone. constant attendance, asked her for the number How much more deplorable the condition of of her ticket: “My dear child,” she exclaimed, him, whose mind, which is infinitely more to “ I have not got any ticket. But, if it please him than his body, is sunk in the stone-like Heaven that I should draw a prize, I can draw stupor of ignorance, and who has it to remem- a prize whether I have a ticket or not.” Is the ber that it is so by his own will. When will absurdity in this case one whit greater than that blessed day dawn, when the higher nature that of him who thinks to enjoy the delights of of man, with its boundless aspirations, its im- knowledge without that intellectual preparation mortal hunger, will be duly reverenced and essential in the very nature of things? Is not cared for?

he, too, looking for a prize for which he has But there is no man, no young man certainly, purchased no ticket? who, having the opportunity of mental culture, It is necessary to the efficacy of all labour has come to the deliberate determination to that it be spontaneous. No work is well done, relinquish entirely all hope of intellectual whether in the workshop, the school, or the culture. Multitudes please themselves with study, that is not done, as the sailors say, the idea of retiring by and by, and exchanging with a will.” And yet, we know not how it the irksome shop or counting-room for a quiet is, the very best way of inducing hearty and library and literary recreations. What grown victorious exertion is to put oneself under the up man can be beguiled by such a delusion? | iron necessity of exertion. This is the way to Have we not seen the folly of it over and over awaken the energy of a slumbering will. Let again in real life? Dr. Johnson mentions the him, therefore, who is resolved to vindicate the case of a tallow-chandler, who, having amassed claims, and feed the appetite, of his mind, bind a considerable fortune, retired, making over himself irrevocably to the task. A task it may his business to his foreman, with the delightful be for a long while, but the time will come prospect of literary ease. It does not appear when it will be his privilege and pleasure, and that he was a niggardly man, and had any ob- he will be ready to declare with Fénélon that jection, generated by his old trade, to the con- if the riches of the Indies were poured at his sumption of the midnight taper. But certain feet, he would not exchange for them his love it is that he gave no encouragement to his old l of reading.



Not for me does Spring unfold her wing

O'er the land I loved so well;
Not for me her showers will rouse the flowers

That are sleeping in the dell;
Ere the Catskill's snow to the Hudson flow,

I shall be far o'er the sea;
So, my native isle, will thy summer smile

Be for others, not for me.

Fare thee well, dear shore; I am travel-sore,

I am weary of the sky;
If my mould could rest within thy breast,

I would gladly, gladly die.
But I'll sleep afar, 'neath a chilly star,

In a strange land o'er the sea.
So, my native soil, will this mortal coil

Be for others, not for thee.




| Beneath their long garments the poniards they hide,

Whose blades ere the morrow blood-red shall be dyed; “How fair is young Melcha!” her handmaidens cry; “ How blooming her cheek and how brilliant her eye!

Then loud rang the voice of Melachlin in air, How queenly she paces her father's proud hall,

“ How like you your maidens, my Melcha the Fair?” The wonder, the beauty, the loved of them all! No maid in the dance can so geacefully move,

VII. Or ging half as sweetly as she dots of love.

|In Loch Var, an island was, green, and how fair! Oh, dull is the minstrel, no wreaths shall he wear,

Turgesius was feasting and revelling there,
Whose harp has no soft note for Melcha the Fair!"

With nobles fifteen, in rich dresses arrayed,
Awaiting young Melcha, the fair Irish maid :

She comes in her beauty, she stands before all,
Her sire was Melachlin, the Ard Righ of Meath,

Her brave guard around her, so slender and tallThe bravest that ever drew blade from its sheath;

Turgesius approached her, before his rude stare
When Northmen, the Loclannochs,* came o'er the sea, The soft eyes looked earthward, of Melcha the Fair.
His heart for the contest beat wildly and free.
Of Leinster the darling, of Leinster the pride,

How fiercely in battle the war-axe he plied ;
The swiftest to smite, and the slowest to spare,

Then rose the false maidens, they rush on the foe,
Was Melachlin, the father of Melcha the Fair.

See, gee from their poniards the blood-torrents flow;

With shoutings for Erin they strike down the horde, III.

But spare for Melachlin, Turgesius, their Lord. But vainly he strove, all his valour was vain,

They bind him, and in, with a shout from the heath,

All fury, all fire, leaps Melachlin of Meath : To shake the rude strength of Turgesius the Dane

His eyes like a tiger's with fierce beauty glare,
Who still made our bravest kneel low at his throne,

So wroth was the father of Melcha the Fair.
With trembling to pay him the Arighid Srone.t
He ravaged the Island with spear and with sword,
He warred against learning, and scoffed at the Lord!

Till fate drove him on the base purpose to bare,

I saw them when homewards the warriors hied, Would tarnish your honour, young Melcha the Fair.

| Brush quick through the valley, and breast the hill side ;

I saw the proud pageant, I saw the fierce Dane,

All madly, but vainly, writhe under his chain;
The wily Melachlin speaks fair to the Dane,

They mocked him, they scoffed him, they gave him a grave, His hand tightly clutching the hilt of his skeyne

Unblest by a priest, under Loch Ainnin's wave; “ Yes, Melcha the Fair, with her maidens fifteen,

Then bent they by thousands their fealty to swear
All tender and youthful, and fair to be seen,

To Melachlin the bold, sire of Melcha the Fair.
In secret I'll send to the place that you name,
In secret, oh King! lest my people cry "shame!
Melachlin has said it, you'll meet with her there,

The student for learning in safety could roam,
The light of my homestead, my Melcha the Fair."

The peasant securely could rest in his home,
The priest on the altar to heaven could pray,

The maiden through meadow and greenwood could stray; The proud Danish Lord to Rath Tara is gone,

The fields of their fathers once more were their own, Melachlin stands musing a moment alone;

The kine were all pastured, the good seed was sown; Then loudly he summons the best of his band,

Green Erin was joyful, she dreamed not of care,
“Ho, seek through the breadth and the length of my land while ruled by the father of Melcha the Fair.
For young men, fifteen, who can strike for the weak,
All spotless of honour, and beardless of cheek,
Hearts that undaunted all dangers will dare

* Loclannochs-Anglice, the powerful at sea. To shield from the tyrant my Melcha the Fair.”

† A tax imposed on the Irish by Turgesius; the defaulters were punished by the loss of their noses; hence

the name “ Arighid Srone," nose-money. They come at his bidding all radiant with youth,

Long white veils, to use the language of the MornWith souls all religion, and bosoms all truth;

ing Post, were “much worn" by ladies in the ninth cen'Neath white veilsf of beauty the young men conceal tury.-See M'Geoghegan's History and Moore's for the Their bosoms well guarded with armour of steel, story.



THE STORY OF THE BALLAD.—The Danish tyrant now Such was the state of Ireland during the sway of these imposed a tax of an ounce of gold on the chief of every tyrants. No alliance or marriage took place; every one family. Those who did not pay, were subject to the passed his time in the strictest retirement; the secular penalty of having their noses cut off, from which the tax, and regular clergy, in order to shelter themselves from in the language of the country, was called “ Arighid the fury of the Normans, lay concealed in the woods, Srone,” that is, nose-money.

| where they celebrated the divine mysteries, and spent

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