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Did not the tenant of yon Indian isle

As bright in purple, gems, and diamonds blaze?
Did not his noon-day sun as cloudless smile,
And shouting millions hail with loud huzzas?

You saw his iron sceptre stretch as far;
His venal minions at his footstool bend;
You saw him left, forsaken in the war;
And vainly hope to make a foe his friend!

A few short years of power and pleasure flown,
And all must fade before your closing eye;
Like him, you must resign the gilded throne;
Like him, in dust and silent darkness lie.

MR EDITOR,

THE SHIPWRECK.

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THE good ship Abeona

Unreefs her flapping sail,
And many a heart is aching,
And many a cheek is pale:
And now she heaves her anchor,

And now she cuts the wave;
O dismal was the parting,
And faint the shout they gave!
"Art thou too sad and weeping,
But yesterday a bride ?
Cheer up, my bonny Mary,
'Tis William, by thy side!

"Fear not yon foreign country, He'll shield thee from alarms; Fear not the tossing billows,

Thou'rt safe within his arms! "I know thou'st left a mother, But she has bairns beside, Who'll cheer her, while thy William Shall cheer his bonny bride."

Now swift across the ocean,

The good ship makes her way,
Divides the dashing billows,

And tosses high the spray.
Long since to merry Scotland
They've sighed their last adieu;
E'en Europe's shores receding

Have faded from their view.
Beneath, around, above them

Are the ocean and the sky;-
God shield thee, lonely vessel,
From any danger nigh!

"How swift we sail my William!
How cool's this evening breeze!
How could I fear with thee, love,
To brave the roaring seas!

"Now Mary smiles at danger,

Heeds not the tossing wave,
But views with hope yon country,
Where the treasures she will save,

"Shall take her home to Scotland,

There in comfort to abide, And long to bless the hour, love

Had made her William's bride! "But see! 'tis smoke ascending,

Thick rolling from below!
And oh! this burning heat too!

And hark, those shrieks of woe!
"See, the crew on deck all rushing!
Great Heaven! the flames pursue!
O save me, save me, William,

Save thy Mary fond and true!"

Who shall paint the scene of horror?
Not a hope beneath the skies!
Like lightning to the mast head

The crackling flames arise!

They rise, and rage, and widen-
Hark! the shriek of wild despair,
The cry of bitter anguish,

The agony of prayer!

The boats!-too soon they're crowded!
Every mother, frantic, wild,
Forgetting self in danger,
Thinks only of her child!

Now God have mercy on you,

Oh hapless orphan crew! See their little arms extended!

See they weep their last adieu ! God have mercy on you mothers!

For slow they raise the oar; Slow, sad, they strike the billowsYe will see your babes no more!

The crackling blazing timbers

Crashing fall from side to side; All around-the flames devouring, All below-the rushing tide.

"O William, hope is over,

Thou can'st swim-I do not fear."

"What, leave thee, Mary? Never!

Cling closer to me dear.

"We'll trust the wave together,
Together live or die;
Oh, Mary, fear not danger,

For still thy William's nigh !"

They plunge—and long does William
Throw aside the dashing wave;
Love and hope his arm have nerved,
And the boat is nigh to save.
Now nearer yet, and nearer—
Almost he grasps the oar;
Another stroke-but William

Can stem the wave no more!
"O Mary,”—faint he whispers,
"Pray to Him who sits above,
Thou dost O yes-together-
Together yet my love!"
They sink-the roaring billow
Sweeps in thunder o'er their head-
But Thou wilt not forget them
When the "sea gives up her dead."

THE PARTHENON.

[THE following communication was received some time previous to the late meeting of the subscribers to the National Monument, and it would now certainly be a little out of place, were it not that the author has, by anticipation, refuted not merely every thing that was lately urged by a certain learned lord in the way of objection to the Parthenon, but, we might add, nearly all that can be advanced in favour of a church, or of any other edifice. We do most fervently deprecate any admixture of party feeling with this important question. With regard to the embellishment of the Caledo nian Capital, there is surely but one feelling; and whatever tends to disturb the unanimity which presently prevails, we shall regard as a mischievous and wanton injury, both to the arts and to Scotland. This is a church building age; and our rulers, we think, deserve credit for their zeal to accommodate the lieges with pla. ces where they may worship their Maker in comfort. But did it never occur to them, that churches ought to be reckoned, not according to the gross amount of the population, but according to that proportion of the people which is found to attend regularly on Divine service? We have already more churches than are filled: if we need more, let them be supplied, as heretofore. A new church would, indeed, be a new, though but a small accession to the already volumin. ous roll of patronage, but, as our Correspondent remarks, would be every way unfit for the purposes of a National Mo

VOL. IX.

49

nument. Will our countrymen throughout the world subscribe large sums merely to build a church for the convenience of the citizens of Edinburgh? Is it not, on the contrary, with the express understanding, that the building to be adopted shall be exclusively, and entire ly, a National Monument, identified and associated with the name of Scotland alone, that subscriptions have been obtained? That subscriptions will be withdrawn, if a church be not adopted, notwithstanding the assertion of the Lord Advocate, we must take the liberty to doubt. Such, for ought we know, may be his Lordship's sincere opinion, but we do, in common with many others, regret that he gave it so public expression, for he has thereby afforded a cue to certain orthodox politicians, and furnished them with a pretext for opposing the adoption of the Parthenon, which, but for the ill-starred suggestion of the learned Lord, they would probably never have dreamt of. We conclude, by recommending the following communication to the attentive perusal of all true Scotsmen ]

MR EDITOR,

NoT having been in Scotland for a considerable time, I am ignorant of the proceedings that have already taken place with regard to the National Monument, or of the nature of the original design. I am happy to find, however, that the plan of the Parthenon is to be discussed, and earnestly hope it will ultimately be adopted in spite of any obstacles and difficulties that may seem to stand in the way. The expence has been estimated at L. 40,000. I know not the amount of the funds already obtained, but I am convinced, were this measure once resolved upon, that additional subscrip tions would pour in not only from Scotland, but from all parts of the world where our countrymen are to be found. For my own part, I am one of those who would most cheerfully subscribe for the Parthenon, BUT WOULD NOT GIVE ONE FARTHING FOR ANY OTHER BUILDING THAT MIGHT BE SUBSTI TUTED IN ITS PLACE! whether an imitation of a Roman triumphal arch, or a modern church with its domes or spires, awkward pediments and heaps of pilasters, because, from the adoption of such a plan, I can anticipate little satisfaction to the public, no ornament to the city, and no glory to the country. Any attempt to produce a reduced design after St

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Peter's, St Paul's, or the Pantheon, humble and puny as it must be, would most probably end in disappointment, and turn out an expensive patched up job. The Gothic is, I presume, entirely out of the question.

Since the revival of Grecian architecture, the greatest architects of Italy and other countries have been content to borrow their ideas of the different orders, and their relative proportions and combinations, from the Roman ruins, with the assistance of the text of Vitruvius, without attempting to imitate the purer models of Greece. Hence all the corruptions and deviations introduced by the Romans, with many more of modern times, have become embodied into our theory and practice, of what is called Grecian architecture. The classical works, indeed, of Le Roi, Stuart, Revett, Chandler, and others, have been for many years before the public; but their splendid designs operated but little practical change on a system that had become so long and inveterately established. But now that so many travellers and professional men have, within a few years, visited the ruins of Greece and Postum, a new era in architecture seems about to arise. It is only necessary to compare the genuine Doric and Ionic of the Greeks with the Roman orders of the same name, to be struck with the decided superiority of the former, not only in the forms and execution of the parts in detail, but in the chaste grandeur and symmetrical effect as a whole. In the Roman, the ornaments and mouldings are crowded and meagre, the curvilinear profiles being segments of the circle; in the Grecian, they are simple and well defined, the echinus and ovolo assuming uniformly the more varied and elegant contours of the Conic Sections. The superiority is remarkably conspicuous in the Doric, the favourite, and, indeed, only order used by the Greeks and their colonies, till the Asiatic Greeks invented the order called Ionic, no example of which is to be found in Greece Proper before the Macedo nian Conquest. With respect to the Corinthian and Composite, which may be considered almost entirely Roman, they do not seem to have been introduced into Greece or her colonies, till after the whole became a Roman province.

The Doric of the Theatre of Mar

cellus at Rome has always been regarded the chief model for regulating the proportions of the order: The examples from the baths of Dioclesian, and ruins of Albano, no longer exist, and the designs from drawings said to have been taken from them by Pyrrho Ligorio do not appear sufficiently authenticated. But how poor and flat is the order of the Theatre of Marcellus, when placed beside the simple majesty and severe magnificence of even the earliest examples of the Grecian Doric- the temples of Jupiter Panhellenius-of Corinth

of the Minerva at Syracuse-of Juno Lucina at Agrigentum-and the hypothral Temple of Postum: Still more, when contrasted with the more elegant and perfect proportions of the Temple of Minerva at Sunium, of Theseus at Athens, and, above all, the Temple of Minerva, or Parthenon, at Athens,-productions of the noblest period of Grecian art, and universally acknowledged, particularly the latter, to be the perfection of the Doric order. The three last examples exhibit, with some diminution of massive proportion, all the sublime characteristics of the primitive style, crowned with additional elegance and grace. The Temple of Apollo at Delos, the Agora, and the Portico of Philip at Athens, are remarkable for a mixture of style, and a sensible deviation from the fine taste of the others. They are exceedingly interesting, however, as displaying, when compared with the primitive style, and that of the best times, the small variation from the expression and identical character of the order that took place throughout the empire of Greece during the space of nearly eight hundred years.

Permit me to suggest the necessity of taking the most effectual means of leading the public taste to the beauty and sublimity of the Grecian Doric Temple, by exhibiting either a model, or elevations and picturesque views, as seen from different points. A Prospectus, with a short account of the proposed edifice, and containing some lithographic engravings from sketches by such an artist as Mr Williams, might be executed at a trifling expence, and circulated all over the country.

No site can be imagined more classically appropriate than the Calton Hill. It is truly Athenian. The

best situation is perhaps already occupied by the Observatory and other erections. This cannot be remedied: At same time, it will scarcely be denied, that even a secondary situation on this site must be preferable to any other in the vicinity of the city. Nelson's Monument, perched up on a situation so very conspicuous and obtrusive, is a glaring deformity, and an utter disgrace to the times in which it was built. I should not be sorry to see it pulled down, for it is only fit for a light-house or watch

tower.

It has been alleged, as a formidable objection to the Parthenon, that it would be impossible to execute sculpture in the style of the original. But sculpture, it must be recollected, is merely ornamental, and forms no necessary part of the order. All the early examples, and many of the later, have none. The architecture is in itself so rich from the trygliphs, mutules, and fluted columns, that decoration becomes almost a subordinate attribute, nor does the want of it impair the general effect. The Parthenon, even without the sculptural ornaments, would, in my opinion, be superior to any other plan that could be adopted. Yet I am at a loss to imagine any good grounds for abandoning, in despair, all idea of ornamental statuary. Is it because we despair of funds, or of artists capable of executing it? I am far from meaning to recommend the hopeless attempt to restore the identical sculpture of the original; I merely suggest the propriety of adorning it with sculpture illustrative of our national history and achievements, and approaching as nearly to the grouping style and general appearance of the original, as circumstances, and a humbler execution, will permit. If we possess not the fine marble of Athens, or the hand of a Phidias, we have at least excellent freestone, that might be substituted for the larger figures, and it is in our power to command talents, in this department of art, equal to produce all that would be required as architectural decoration. The interior should correspond with the elevation, and be as near an approximation, as convenience will admit, to the cella of a Grecian temple, or to the Roman Basilica. Its situation would be ill adapted for a church:

besides, galleries and boxed up pews are quite incompatible with architectural effect. Why not make it a national hall for meetings on great occasions, and, like Westminster Abbey, a Pantheon for the reception of statues and monuments, in honour of distinguished Scotsmen? The meeting ought to look, not so much to the funds already subscribed, as to what may be anticipated, from the taste and zeal of the public, were such a plan adopted; and I hope those who take the lead in this great undertaking, will not think it necessary to have it hurried through from any illjudged impatience to have it finished, within a certain period, and with the funds already collected. What may be prudence in a private individual, becomes narrow-minded and mistaken policy in a matter of this kind. Had Pope Julius II. proceeded on such calculations, the world would never have beheld the glories of the Vatican Basilica.

Many well-informed people entertain very erroneous ideas of the size of the Parthenon, as well as all ancient temples, which they suppose to be of gigantic dimensions. They are naturally led to draw such conclusions from most of the antiquarians who have treated this subject, who expatiate on the pomp and magnificence of the ancient religious rites, and, in their descriptions of the architecture of these edifices, apply indiscriminately to all what could only be applicable to a very few of the largest class. They do not distinguish between the essential parts and those that were merely accessory. They would seem to make no distinction between the Temple of Ephesus or Serapis and that erected to Julius Cæsar after the battle of Philippi, which was just large enough to contain his statue. Every temple, according to them, must have its area, atrium, and vestibule,-its cella, adytum, penetrale, and sacrarium. The greatest proportion of the ancient temples were, however, of very moderate dimensions, and many what we would call merely shrines or altars. know that the Pantheon of Agrippa, the cella of which is of nearly the same diameter as the dome of St Peter's, was, next to the Temple of Peace, reckoned one of the largest in Rome, "the city of all the gods." The Parthenon, though large in proportion to

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most of the ancient temples, is not more so than is consistent with dignity and effect, and falls far short of our cathedrals and many of our modern buildings. The magnificence and grandeur of both Grecian and Roman temples did not depend so much on their size as their fine proportion and rich decoration.

Before concluding these hasty observations, which have insensibly led me into a longer discussion than I originally intended, I cannot help remarking, no party feelings, inconsiderate haste, or limited views, ought to interfere with the execution of a plan that would shed an extraordinary degree of splendour around the city and nation, and would, in all probability, be productive of consequences, in the encouragement of the arts, which it would be difficult to appreciate. The arts are all connected together; but architecture and sculpture may be said to be twin-sisters. The latter cannot appear to advantage without the former, nor can the for

The greater proportion of the Roman temples being the early works of the republic, are inferior, both in magnitude and taste, to those of the Greeks. Every stranger who visits the Roman ruins for the first time is struck with the small dimensions of these edifices, compared to what his imagination had anticipated, with the single exception of the Temple of Peace. The author experienced the same disappointment. The designs of Palladio and the views of Piranesi are very apt to lead us into mistaken notions of their former dimensions. Indeed, all the architects,

from Palladio downwards, who have at

tempted to design the restoration of the Ro. man ruins, have rather indulged the heat of their imagination than confined themselves to matter of fact and probability. A moment's reflection on the accounts given by ancient authors, must convince us of the small size of these temples. Sixty are said to have stood on the site of the Capitol, of which that of Jupiter Capitolinus occupied the principal station. Many are enumerated in the Forum, which likewise contained within its area triumphal arches, Basili cæ, equestrian statues, fountains, Rostra, &c. The fame of the Roman architecture, however, does not rest on the temples, or on the purity of the Grecian orders, but on a mixed style, combining the arcade and column, as displayed in their Thermæ, Basilica, Amphitheatres, Circuses, and Aqueducts, works unknown to the Greeks, and of stupendous magnificence.

mer attain its highest elegance and grace without the latter. Edinburgh has been called the Northern Athens: were this plan realized, she would have a better title to the comparison. Let my countrymen, then, imitate the patriotism and enthusiasm of those Athenians and Greeks, who, divided into separate commonwealths, and scattered over distant colonies in Asia and Magna Græcia-all hostile, and generally waging war with each other-yet, to promote the common glory of their country, combined their united efforts in preserving and adorning the Olympian and Delphian Temples.

If London boasts of St Paul's-Paris of the colonnade of the Louvreand Rome of St Peter's-were the Caledonian Capital to possess the Parthenon restored, in addition to Trajan's Tuscan Column, and her other architectural beauties, well might she raise her head among these proud cities, and, in one respect at least, surpass the glories of even the Eternal City itself. C.

THE MODERN HORACE.'

Ir is parliamentary, and not unreasonable, to estimate the progress of public economy, by referring to the year of national peace. They who admit the progressive nature of poetry, cannot object to a similar mode of estimating our present position. The long, unprincipled, and extravagant war, which barbarism and superstition had waged against poetry from the departure of the Roman legions,(the peaceful but ominous 1791 of li terature,)-to the birth of Shakespeare, (the peace of 1815,)-left genius and taste encumbered with a load as grievous, and almost as permanent, as the national debt. If we compare of the first year of peace, we find unour poetry altogether with the poetry doubtedly a great reduction of barbarity end absurdity, but the fair question is, has the reduction been steadily progressive, and have we not occasionally admitted fresh burdens? It is now two centuries since Shake

* The Garden of Florence, and other Poems. By John Hamilton. London, pp. 175.

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