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our cradle upwards, had been indissolubly associated with honour of learning—conferred then with even a more a thousand vague traditionary tales of terror.

sparing hand than at present, by the learned body to A brief space, however, brought us to Clovenford, which he belonged—had been awarded to him. The where John had arrived some time before, and where hackneyed objection, therefore, to all who stir first in a Ellen-one of those, who to more than woman's length, good cause, cannot be urged against him. He was not adds more than woman's mildness"-welcomed us in goaded on by any unsatisfied craving after notoriety, or with her kindest smiles. We “ coost aff the wat, pat on desperate desire to wring from unwilling hands a share the dry," and went-not to bed, as the fair but frail of the world's wealth. His views were the fruit of Countess of Cassillis directed Johnnie Faa, but to din- calm, unimpassioned, and matured study. He was im

Clovenford is in its arrangements, what every pelled to diffuse them by the love of truth alone. country inn ought to be. The meat and drink are of the In our estimation, there is infinitely more grandeur best, and in overflowing abundance and every thing is about the character of Wickliff than of any other reformer. banged down on the table at once, without any order of In the first place, he was the foremost in the cause. In place or succession, You may begin the pudding, and the time of Luther, the world was prepared, by the end with fish, (as we did,) and you see the cheese stand sceptical spirit engendered by the study of classical literalovingly side by side with the soup tureen. This is the ture, of which Erasmus is the first great exemplar, to true welcome for famished sportsmen.

hear the dominant superstition called in question. Light Here close the adventures of the first day.

had already broken in upon Europe, and needed but to “ But there is matter for another tale,

be directed to the proper place. The sympathies of thouAnd I to this would add another rhyme."

sands were with him of Wittenberg. The dry fuel was piled, and only awaited the torch. But Wickliff wanted

the aid of a new and aspiring spirit of enquiry to make LITERARY CRITICISM.

smooth his path before him ; and, what is more, he stood

alone in the world. Of all the ills which the great men Writings of the Reverend and Learned John Wickliff, who stride on before their age, till they are dwarfed in

D.D. The first English Translator of the Holy Scrip the distance, have to endure — calumny, persecution, lures. (Vol. I. of the British Reformers, from Wickliff mockery-this is the most depressing. To have no one to Jewell.) London. Printed for the Religious Tract

to feel with us, to enter into our thoughts, to cling to us

with a love based upon a thorough knowledge of our Society. 1831.

character, every one must feel would be a dreary doom. Although this is, according to the natural arrange- Yet this is the lot of all great reformers. And then ment, the commencementof the valuable selection from the there is added to this the natural misgivings of a mind writings of the British Reformers, at present publishing which cannot support its convictions by the feeling that under the auspices of the Religious Tract Society, nine they are shared in by others,—the restless fearful ques. volumes of the work have appeared before it. The com- tioning, “ can that be true which has not entered into paratively easy access to the writings of Tindal, Latimer, the thoughts of others to conceive ?” Against these and others, rendered such an arrangement expedient. combined pressures had Wickliff to struggle, and he Two more volumes will appear in the course of the year, maintained the contest with a gentle firmness that more and complete the series. The publication is at once cheap than realizes the description given by the Roman of his and elegant; and the works which it embraces rank, in favourite sage. Wickliff, it is true, had a more inspiriting every point of view, among the most valuable monuments belief. of our language. Trusting that an occasion may soon be

“Humana ante oculos fæde cum vita jaceret offered us of leading our readers to cast a look backwards

In terris oppressa gravi sub religione, at the other fathers of our church, we confine our remarks Quæ caput a cæli regionibus ostendebat, at present to the first, the most daring, yet the most gentle Horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans; of them all.

Primum Graius homo mortaleis tollere contra, Wickliff was born at a village of the same name near

Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra : Richmond, in Yorkshire. His parents were respectable,

Quem nec fama Deûm, nec fulmina, nec minitanti and his relations possessed among them a considerable

Murmure compressit cælum, sed eo magis acrem

Virtutem irritát animi, contringere ut arcta amount of property. He was destined for the church,

Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret.” and entered, early in life, first at Queen's College, Oxford, from which he soon removed to Merton College. His There is an elegance and refinement at the same time studies seem to have been confined in a great measure to about the mind of Wickliff, more akin to such men as such branches of science as had a direct bearing upon his Jewell and Hooker, than the rude but honest spirits to profession. He was a thorough master of the subtle scho- whom the office of pioneers in the work of mental illumilastic fence of his day, and deeply read in the writings of nation has in general been confided by Providence. Luther the Fathers, of whom St Augustine seems to bave been had a soul overflowing with love, but he was violent, his especial favourite. He was chosen Warden of Baliol | daring, and reckless. When looking at his picture—the College in 1361. In the same year he was presented to best is a full length, by Lucas Cranach, if we remember the living of Fellingham. In 1365, he was appointed aright, in a chapel at Wittenberg—you see by his burly Warden of Canterbury Hall. In 1373, he was admitted front, stout figure, and sturdy position-the feet somewhat to the degree of Doctor in Divinity. The king present- apart—that he is a man to stand without flinching, with ed him, in 1375, to a prebend in the collegiate church of a world drawn up in battle-array against him, to speak Westbury, and shortly after to the rectory of Lutter- his mind as plainly and freely to the emperor of the worth, in Leicestershire. In 1382, he was expelled from world as to the meanest peasant.

Knox, again, was Oxford, but none of his livings seem to have been taken (with all deference to Dr M'Crie do we speak it) a man from him. On the 31st of December, 1384, he died of of iron. He was faithful and true as his Bible, but un. a paralytic affection at his cure of Lutterworth.

feeling as the paper upon which its characters were We have been thus minute in tracing the progress of stamped. Wickliff's soul was cast in a finer mould. the Reformer's worldly fortunes, for an important reason. His language is a little more antiquated than that of It appears from our recapitulation, that Wickliff was in Chaucer, and he contests with the poet the honour of being easy circumstances, as far as wealth is concerned, during the first writer of English prose. His style is terse, unhis whole life. His ambition to be distinguished in his ornamented, and full. His mind is capable of soaring to profession, if he had any, must also have been amply the heights of Platonic reverie, but with a constant and gratified. He was a dignified clergyman, and the highest healthy reference to the duties of life. There is an unaffected kindness in all his expressions. We not untre- “ And also let each woman beware, that neither by quently stumble upon passages which evince a quick eye countenance, por by array of body, nor of head, she stir any to the peculiarities of form and dress which surrounded to covet her to sin. Not crooking* her hair, neither laying him. In short, taking him merely as a literary charac- it up on high, nor the head arrayed about with gold and ter, he is every way worthy to hold a place beside his shape, showing herself to be seemly to fools. For all such great contemporary.

array of women, St Peter and St Paul, by the Holy Wickliff's views of the duty and pleasure of religious Ghost's teaching, openly forbid. But let them be in contemplation, seem to unite to the amiability of Fénélon, clothing of shamefacedness and soberness; being subject to a manlier tone of mind. The following passage will their husbands, after the rule of reason, as St Peter and serve, we think, to corroborate this opinion :

St Paul teach ; that they who believe not God's word be

won to health, beholding in awe the holy and chaste con“ Contemplative life hath two parts; the lower consists versation of women. Thus in old time good women and in meditation, or thinking of Holy Scripture, and in other holy, believing in God, adorned themselves, as St Peter sweet thoughts of Jesus, and in sweetness of prayers. The saith." higher part is in beholding of heavenly things, having the eye of the heart among the heavenly citizens, thinking on

The whole of Wickliff's life was in harmony with the God, the beauty of angels, and holy souls. Contemplation grandeur of his sentiments and opinions. He escaped is a wonderful joy in God's love, which joy is a loving of the stake, but that doom seemed constantly impending God that cannot be told. And that wonderful love is in over him. The tranquillity of his deportment amid all the soul, and for abundance of joy and sweetness it ascends his trials, is truly sublime. The history of one of his into the mouth; so that heart, tongue, body, and soul, joy appearances before his bishop is interesting, from the together in God. * This gladness God sendeth into the soul that he

contrast between his meek bearing and the fiery turbu. chooseth to this life. When a man hath long practised lent zeal of his noble converts : good doing, and sweetness of prayer, and is wont to feel “ When the day assigned to the said Wickliff to appear compunction, and to be free from occupations of this world, was come, which day was Thursday, the 19th of February, and hath learned to occupy the eye of the soul alone in the John Wickliff went, accompanied with the Duke of Lanlove of God, and hath begun in desiring earnestly a fore- caster, also four friars appointed by the duke, the better to taste, yea, in this life the joy of everlasting bliss which he ensure Wickliff's safety, and Lord Henry Percy, Lord shall take in the life to come. Truly that soul which is Marshal of England; Lord Percy going before to make called and chosen of God to this life, God first inspireth to room and way where Wickliff should come. forsake the world in will, and all the vanity and coveting " Thus Wickliff, through the providence of God, being and lusts thereof... After that, He leadeth him alone, ali sufficiently guarded, was coming to the place where the troubles and worldly company being forsaken, and speaketh bishops sat. By the way, they animated and exhorted him to his heart; and as the prophet saith, He giveth him to not to fear, nor shrink a whit at the company of the bishops taste the sweetness of beginning of love, and turneth his there present,' who were all unlearned, said they, in respect will to holy prayers, and sweet meditations; putting out of of him,- for so proceed the words of my author, whom I the heart idle thoughts and all vanities, setting it to think follow in this narration ; neither should he dread the conon him and heavenly things. Then He openeth to the eye course of the people, whom they would themselves assist of such a soul the gate of heaven, so that the same eye look- and defend, in such sort that he should take no harm. eth into heaven, and then the fire of love enlighteneth his With these words, and with the assistance of the nobles, heart, and burning therein maketh it clean of all earthly Wickliff, encouraged in heart, approached the church of St filth; and so, thenceforward, he is contemplative, and Paul, where a main press of people was gathered to hear filled with love of a sight which he saw in heaven with the what should be said and done. Such was the throng of the spiritual eye of his soul. But no man hath perfect sight of multitude, that the lords, for all the puissance of the high heaven while he liveth here, in the body; but he that end- marshal, scarcely, with great difficulty, could get way eth in this love, as soon as he dieth, is brought before God through. Insomuch that Courtney, Bishop of London, with companies of angels, and seeth bim face to face, and seeing the stir which the lord marshal kept in the church dwelleth with him without end."

among the people, speaking to the Lord Percy, said, " That But this tendency towards a mystical piety was tem

if he had known before wbat masteries he would have kept pered by a clear and sagacious understanding. He thus

in the church, he would have stopped him out from coming speaks, in another part of his writings, of those who ing not a little, answered the bishop again, That he would

there.' At which words of the bishop, the duke, disdainaffected to devote their whole life to devotional reveries.

keep such mastery there, though he said, Nay.' “ But hypocrites allege from the Gospel, that Mary chose " At last, after much wrangling, they pierced through, to herself the best part when she sat beside Christ's feet, and came to our Lady's chapel, where the dukes and barons and heard his word. Truth it is that meek sitting, and were sitting together with the archbishops and bishops, devout hearing of Christ's word, was best for Mary; for before whom John Wickliff stood, to know what should be she had not the duty of preaching as priests have, since she laid unto him. To whom tirst spake the Lord Percy, bidwas a woman that had not authority of God's law to teach ding him to sit down, saying, “ that he had many things to and preach openly. But what is this to priests who have answer to, and therefore had need of some softer seat.' But the express commandment of God and men to preach the the Bishop of London, cast eftsoons into a fumish chafe with Gospel ? whereas they would all be women in idleness, and those words, said, ' He should not sit there. Neither was follow not Jesus Christ in life and preaching of the Gospel, | it,' said he, according to law or reason, that he, who was which he bimself commandeth both in the old law and the cited there to appear to answer before his ordinary, should

sit down during the time of his answer, but he should stand.' “ Also, this peaceable hearing of Christ's word, and the Upon these words, a fire began to heat and kindle between burning love that Mary had, was the best part, for it shall them. Insomuch that they began so to rate and revile one end in living in godly life in this world. But in this lite, the other, that the whole multitude, therewith disquieted, the best life for priests is holy life, in keeping God's com- began to be set on a hurry. mands, and true preaching of the Gospel, as Christ did, * Then the duke, taking the Lord Perey's part, with and charged all his priests to do. And these hypocrites sup- hasty words began also to take up the bishop. To whom pose that their dreams and fantasies are contemplation, aud the bishop again, nothing inferior in reproachful checks and that preaching of the Gospel is active life, and so they mean rebukes, did render and requite not only to him as good as that Christ took the worst life for this world, and required he brought; but also did so far excel him in this railing art all his priests to leave the better, and take the worst life! of scolding, that, to use the words of mine author, the Thus these foolish hypocrites put error upon Jesus Christ, duke blushed, and was ashamed, because he could not over. but who are greater hereties?”

pass the bishop in brawling and railing: He therefore fell A short passage in his Commentary upon the Ten to plain threatening, menacing the bishop, that he would Commandments will show the grounds upon which we

bring down the pride not only of him, but also of all the attribute to him a sharp eye to outward demeanour and prelacy of England. Speaking moreover unto him ; Thou, peculiarities. In the midst of a moral exhortation he shall not be able to help thee;

they shall have enough to

said he, bearest thyself so brag upon thy parents, which manages, by a few bold touches, to give us a picture of the fashionable head-dress of his day:

Curling.

new.

do to help themselves. His parents were the Earl and lose their hearts to Ina, Guthrum's daughter ; but she, at Countess of Devonshire. To whom the bishop again once perceiving the superior merit of Oswith, surrenders answered, that to be bold to tell truth, his confidence was her affections exclusively to him. At her intercession he is not in his parents, nor in any man else, but only in God in saved from death, to which her father, Guthrum, a warmwhom he trusted. Then the duke softly whispering in hearted but passionate old warrior, had condemned him. the ear of him next by him, said, that he would rather In the developement of these incidents, which occupy the pluck the bishop by the hair of his head out of the church, first act, there is much spirited and powerful writing. than he would take this at his hand. This was not spoken Oswith had been taken prisoner in endeavouring to save so secretly but that the Londoners overheard him. Where the life of a friend. He is brought before Guthrum, who upon, being set in rage, they cried out, saying, that they thus questions him :would not suffer their bishop so contemptuously to be abused, but rather they would lose their lives, than that he

Guth. Is he thy friend, whose life should be so drawn out by the hair. Thus the council

Thou count'st a thing so precious, thou would'st give being broken with scolding and brawling for that day, was

Thine own to purchase it? dissolved before nine of the clock.”

Os. He is,

Guth. What rich In conclusion, we have only to repeat that “ the Bri- And heavy debt hast thou incurr'd to him, tish Reformers” is a publication eminently worthy of To pay so large return as takes thy all? public attention.

Os. And think'st thou friendship barters kindnesses ? 'Tis not because that such or such a time

He help'd my purse, or stood me thus or thus Alfred the Great ; or, The Patriot King. By James She-In stead, that I go bound for him, or take ridan Knowles, Author of “ Virginius,” &c. London.

His quarrel up! With friends, all services

Are ever gifts, that glad the donor most. J. Ridgway. 8vo. 1831.

Who rates them otherwise, he only takes We have much pleasure in announcing the entire suc

The face of friend to mask a usurer. cess of this new play from the pen of the author of“ Vir- He did me yesterday, or any day,

I give my life for him, not for the service ginius.” We are assured by a gentleman who was present But for the love I bear him every day, on the occasion, that no tragedy could possibly have been | Nor ask if he returns ! received more triumphantly. At the conclusion of every

“ The whole of the scene in which Ina intercedes for the Act, there was not only long and continued applause, but life of Oswith, is exceedingly beautiful. We have room the waving of bats and handkerchiefs was general through for only a part of it. out the house. No doubt the circumstance of his Majesty

Guth. Come, Ina, name having given his express permission that the play should The boon thou'd'st ask. be dedicated to him, and the many noble and patriotic Ina. When thou art happy, what sentiments put into the mouths of the different dramatis Most wishest thou ? persona, which the audience chose to apply to the pre

Guth. That happiness may last. sent crisis of affairs, contributed somewhat to increase Ina. No, no! not that. 'Thou wishest others happy. their enthusiasm. But having impartially perused the

Guth. I do! I do!

Ina. And so do I. When I drama in our own closet, we can confidently state, that it

Am happy, I'd have all things like me-not is entitled and destined to maintain its popularity, long That live and move alone, but even such after these adventitious and momentary causes of success As lack their faculties. Then could I weep, have passed away. It abounds in well-drawn characters, That flowers should smile without perception of vigorous diction, and powerful situations. Alfred is, of The sweetness they discourse. Yea, into rocks course, the person upon whom the interest principally Would I infuse soft sense to fill them with rests; and we understand that Macready never appeared The spirit of sweet joy, that every thing

Should thrill as I do. Then, were I a queen, to greater advantage than in this part. Macready bad al

I'd portion out my realms among my friends, ready, to a great extent, linked his name with that of Unstud my crown for strangers, and my coffers Knowles, and now the union is closer than ever. We Empty in purchasing from foes their frowns, have always entertained a high respect for Macready's Till I had bought them out; that all should be talents; but his conduct in regard to his friend Knowles One reign of smiles around me.

I am happy has been, from first to last, honourable in no common de- | To-day-to-day that brings thee back to me, gree, and worthy of being held up as an example to all The hundredth time, in triumph and in safety! his brother performers. Macready is the pilot who has she'd wish to smile e'en upon Ina's foe

This day, that smiles so bounteous upon Ina, safely guided Knowles through all the dangerous naviga- Let not the Saxon die! tion of green-rooms, and the tumultuous currents of con- Guth. He lives !- My child ! tending theatrical interests behind the curtain. They What makes thee gasp? who know how many an author has suffered shipwreck

Ina. How near-how near to you in these dangerous latitudes, will be best able to appre. Was death that day! 'Twas well for Ina that ciate the services of one so deservedly high in his profes- A father now to ask a boon of, and

She had not else sion as Macready. We are aware that they could not be To get it soon as ask'd ! felt and acknowledged more warmly by any one than by him on whom they have been bestowed. If Macready Alfred's wife, whose castle, baving been sacked in Alfred's

“ The second act introduces us to Elswith, the queen, stands by Knowles, Knowles does not fail to stand by absence, she has been obliged to wander in disguise and in him, in every sense of the word. He is the only drama- much misery through the country, ignorant alike of the tic author of the day capable of producing a tragedy wor- fate both of her husband and her son, the youthful Ethelthy of the better times of the British stage. We shall red, whom she believes to have perished in the ruins of her not, however, detain our readers any longer from a short castle. One faithful follower still remains with her, but analysis of the play before us, which, as we dislike the although Elswith has been rendered reckless and almost mechanical labour of giving an abstract of a plot, we will-maddened by despair, the strength of both seems to be fast ingly borrow from the second number of the Englishman's giving way; The scene changes to the interior of Maude's

cottage, where we find Alfred and Maude, and are preMagazine.

sented with a spirited version of the old traditional anec“ The drama opens in the Danish camp, at a period when dote, so dear to the memories of the people of England, Guthrum, the Danish king, appears to have entirely dis- which represents the monarch forgetting, in the mournful persed and subdued the friends of Alfred, and remains interest of his own thoughts, the good woman's cakes till master of the country. Among the prisoners, taken in the they are burned to cinders. A party of soldiers arrive at last battle, are Oswith and Edric, two young Saxons; but the cottage, from whom Alfred gathers, before he discovers of very different dispositions, the former being brave and himself, that bis friends are again collecting, and that some generous, the latter selfish and treacherous. They both of them are now in the neighbourhood. The conversation

is interrupted by the intelligence that a party of Danish ! I dare not touch it! Better were it far
troops is at hand. The English soldiers are about to fly, | I had not now been told on't.
when Alfred puts bimself at their head, and, making Guth. Take the boy !
himself known to them, leads them out to encounter the But first true answer to our question give.
enemy. The Danes are repulsed, and more Saxon chiefs, The castle where we found him was the king's!
with their followers, gather round Alfred's standard. In Clad as no vassal's offspring was the child.
the third act te again return to the Danish camp, where If thou his mother art, thou art the queen!
Alfred makes his appearance in the disguise of a bard, with Art thou so?
the view of ascertaining the discipline of the Danish army. Alf. Guthrum, to the test I put
He is introduced to Guthrum, who is pleased with his Thy nature ! It'tis worthy of thy state,
manly and dignified bearing, and requests his advice in | Thy prosperous fortune, and thy high renown,
adjusting the rival claims of Oswith and Edric for his Approve it now. Lo, Guthrum, do I play
daughter's hand, the former being favoured by the lady, and The traitor for thy honour ! In thy power
the latter by her father, in consequence of some services he Thou hold'st the son and consort of thy foe!
had rendered, which proved him ready to act the traitor Of Alfred ! use thy fortune as beseems thee!
towards his native country. Alfred proposes that the rivals Swear by thy God, they shall receive from thee
should decide the strife by a trial of skill with the sword; Safeguard of life and honour.
Who masters first his adversary's sword,

Guth. Ay, by Odin.

Els. Wouldst thou not take a ransom for us?
And yet not sheds bis blood, be his the maid.'

Guth. Yes!
The suggestion is adopted, and Oswith is victorious; but

Els. What ransom wilt thou take ? not before Edric has seen cause to suspect that the pretended

Guth. Thy husband's crown ! kard is not what he appears to be, and expressed his deter

Els. Alas! he will not ransom us with that! mination to discover who he really is before he allows bim

Alf. He should not ! to quit the camp. The fourth act is, on the whole, the

Guth. Why? best: it is full of a highly-sustained interest. The scene

Alf. He wears it for his people. is in Guthrum's tent, where a banquet is celebrated, at

The day he put it on, he vow'd himself which Alfred and his follower, Edwy, are called upon for

Of them the father! To their parent land a specimen of their art. This they gave in the shape of a

It wedded him! His proper consort sbe ! fine warlike ballad, Alfred playing while Edwy sings. At 'Twixt him and them, he knows not wife, or child, its conclusion, Elswith, who had been attracted from He dares allow to stand ! without by the well-known melody, enters pale, emaciated,

Guth. Minstrel, thou rav'st ! and in wretched attire. Alfred recognises his queen, but

He has not nature, who, 'gainst nature's law, dares not acknowledge her. Edric, however, begins to

Could so deny his heart ! suspect that there is an understanding between them.

Alf. He may have more! Meantime, Ethelred, Alfred's child, who had been carried

Guth. What ? off by the Danes, but was carefully cherished by Ina, is

Alf. The command of her. The attribute brought in. His wretched mother recognises him, and

Of kings who feel the import of their titles, clasps him to her bosom. She thus discovers herself to be

Which stops their ears against her piercing cries ! the queen; but her appearance is such that Guthrum still which shuts their eyes against her thrilling looks! bas doubts. What follows, the author must tell in his own way: we know of few plays from which we could extract They sat in some attendant, brighter sphere,

Which lifts them 80'bove earth, they seem as though a more vigorous and highly-wrought passage:

Wherefrom they look'd and ruled her! Guth. If the child is thine,

Guth. Well thou said'st Thou'lt know where it was found.

Thy world was of the air! Thou do'st not speak Els. Too well I know!

Of things of earth! Thy sayings are not sooth ! Both when and where ! A castle did ye sack,

I would thy king were here to prove thee but Whose tenant was the mother of that child.

A dreamer! With those jewels in his eye, At night the cry arose, « The Dane!' •The Dane !'

He would not see his crown! though it shone And then the bursting gate-the clash of arms!

Bright as it did before I thinn'd its studs ! The shout-the yell—the shriek—the groan which rage,

Could'st find thy king ? And cruelty, and fear, and pain supply,

Alf. I could. To make the concert fell of savage war!

Güth. Go seek him, then. That mother's care too safe had lodged her child

And when thou find'st him, greet him from me thusIn the remotest chamber of the whole.

• Thy queen and son are now in Guthrum's power, She ask'd for it, · The Dane'! was the reply.

Pay thou but homage to the Dane, they're free.' She would have sought it; but they held her back,

Alf. I take my leave. And cried, · The Dane! She shriek'd to be set free;

Eis. Guthrum. A boon ! Now threaten'd! now implored ! but all in vain !

Guth. What is't ? • The Dane!' was all the answer she could get!

Els. I'd send a message to my lord ! They forced her thence in cruel duty! Ay!

Guth. Thou shalt. In duty forced the mother from her child;

Stand you apart, that freely they confer. While lent the Dane a torch to light her path,

Els. And do'st thou go; and wilt thou leave us here ! Her tlaming towers that blazed about her boy!

Alf. I must. Alas! thou know'st not what thou say'st! And she went mad! yet still they bore her on;

Els. Thou'lt leave us here! Do'st thou not love our child ? Nor other heed to her distraction gave,

Alf. Beyond my life !
Except to cry, • The Dane!' The Dane!' « The Dane!' Els. And me?
[Sinks exhausted upon a scal, clasping her forehead. Alf. Beyond our child !
GUTHRUM and EDRIC whisper.

Eis. And must thou leave me? Oh! I have search'd Els. Alas! they give not credence to my words !

for thee Will no one plead for me? My countryman,

Many, and many a day! Now fear'd thee dead! Essay your art! Hast not some melting strain ?

Now hoped thee living! Search'd for thee alone!
Such as draw tears whether they will or not?

One falling now; and now another off ;
As moves.-(Recognising Alfred.) I've found him! With my strong love unequal to keep pace.
Edr. (coming forward. ) Whom? Whom bast thou Sleeping in woods and caves ! On foot by dawn,
found?

Ne'er giving o'er till night again! Now food,
Els. (recollecting herself.) My boy!

Now nothing! Scantily I fared to-day; Edr. (aside.) I thought she meant the minstrel.

Yet 'twas not hunger brought me here, but thou, Alf. Yes!

In desperate hope to find thee! And art thou found, She knows me, and I am a husband still!

But to be lost again? I am a father, and a husband still !

Alf. So were I found, Oh, happiness, thou comest out of time!

Went I not instant hence. Look in my eyes, Thou choosest ill the place to greet me in !

And read the husband and the father there, Thou mock'st me to hold thine arms to me!

In nature's undissembling language vouch'd! I dare not rush to their embrace. I'm poor,

But, hear the king ! With all the wealth thou say'st is mine again!

Els, Well!

Alf. Paramount of all,

pleasure. We are much tempted to make an extract or My public function ! Husband father-friend

two from them, but cannot find any whose dimensions All titles, and all ties are merged in that !

will suit our columns. In this dilemma, we shall preApprove thyself the consort of a king ! I leave thee to return to thee. Return,

sent our readers with the following touching delineation, With freedom for thy child—for thee-myself

by Macfarlane, of the misery of a Greek father, on the For all--for all must perish, or be free!

loss of an only child through Turkish barbarity : And soon I come! So cheer thy heart with bope! Farewell!

“ On a day, fatal for us, an affray took place in our vilEls. (aloud.) You'll bear my duty to my lord.

lage, (Aya-Paraskevis, inbabited solely by Greeks,) in Alf. I will.

which a Turk of some consequence was killed, and two of Els . Your band that you will keep your word.

his attendants wounded. I was absent at the time, shootAlf. There, Jady.

ing partridges with my wife's brother, on the hill of AlacEls. Be thy hand my missive! Thus

chitta, but when I arrived and heard the fact, I trembled Thus with my tears I write my errand on't,

at the certain consequences. It was true the Turk had And with my lips my faithful signet, seal it!

been killed in an attempt to commit the grossest injury upon 0, countryman. Perhaps nor he nor thou

a beautiful Greek girl of the village, by her relations, and a Shalt ever see me more! I feel as one

young man her lover ; and that they who had done the deed, Amerced of life, that sbakes a hand withal,

and she who had been the innocent cause, had prudently And ask'st a blessing from the meanest tongue !

taken Hight. But I too well knew the vindictive spirit of the Thy blessing, minstrel, ere thy mistress dies.

Turks, the comprehensiveness of Turkish justice, its eager“ As Alfred is about to depart, Edric stops him, and all

ness on every occasion to effect an avaniah, to drain money would have been lost bad it not been for the interference of right or wrong, and to use the advantages of force to the Oswith, who knows the king, and hurries him off. Edric apprehended, (and that to us, blind, avaricious fools that

The most, however, that I and my wife declares that it is Alfred; Guthrum instantly sends in pursuit of him ; but Oswith fights till he is overpowered, while comparative wealth, should be obliged to contribute largely

we were! seemed a mighty evil,) was, that we, from our Alfred effects his escape. Guthram, enraged beyond endu

to the fine to be imposed on the village, for a transaction in rance, orders Oswith to be given immediately as a sacrifice

which we had no more to do than if we had been living in to Odin,-an order which almost deprives Ina of her senses.

the sultan's palace at Stamboul.--Oh, God! this would The fourth Act here concludes."

have been nothing-nothing !

“ At a late hour in the evening, a numerous body of furiThe opening of the fifth act is very fine. We regret that

ous Turks rushed into the village, discharging their firewe cannot give the scene. It is laid in Ina's tent, and

arms in all directions, as is their wont. A pistol-ball pepeexhibits Guthrum's remorse and Ina's delirious misery trated through one of my slight shutters, and struck my in very beautiful colours, ending with a declaration on Helenizza ! my lovely-my innocent-my happy child! the part of the latter, that her lover shall not die alone. who, scarcely comprehending the alarm of her parents, had The catastrophe is soon told. Alfred rejoins his friends, fallen quietly asleep on a sofa by the window. One shrill who only wait for him to lead them against the Danes. shriek, which still rings in my ears, and turns my blood to

ice, warped us of our unutterable woe! She threw herself In the last scene, as Oswith is about to be sacrificed to Odin, and Ina prepares to dic along with him, the Eng- you have never known what is pain if you bave not felt the

off the sofa towards me, and expired at my feet. On, sir, lish, headed by Alfred, rush in ; the Danes are defeated, agony, the madness of a fond' father! What happened Gutbrum disarmed, but spared, and Oswith and Ina around us for some time I have no idea, and, bad it not made happy. The play concludes with the institution been for the care of our servant and a friend or two who of the Trial by Jury, and a dignified speech by Alfred, prostrate by the side of our child, in the flames that had

ran into our apartment, we should have expired, lying jo a style worthy of the subject. Mr Knowles has gained new laurels by this produc- the fugitives that the Turks had set fire to.

already reached our house from the deserted residence of tion. It takes its place at once beside his “ Virginius” “ When made sensible, I took my darling in my arms, and “ William Tell,” and is in some respects superior to and we went into the garden behind the house ; there, on either of them. It is announced, we perceive, for every the bare ground, with the cold, pallid, blood-stained corpse evening at Drury Lane; and such is the enthusiasm it on my knees, I sat in mute despair, heedless of the destruchas excited, that it will, no doubt, continue to run the tion of my property, and of all the horrors committing in whole season.

the village. Thus passed the night. When the morning dawned, the hour at which, in my happy days, I had been accustomed to arise, and, ere repairing to the business of

the day, to kiss my sweet little slumberer-heaven and The Sisters' Bulget; a Collection of Original Tales in earth! what a scene did its hateful light disclose ! Could

Prose and Verse. By the Authors of the “ Odd Vo-it, indeed, be she? my rose, my brilliant floweret-my darJames.” With Contributions from Mrs Hemans, Miss ling-late so full of life, and now colourless, inanimate as

the marble of the fountain! was it possible? Could a Mitford, Mrs Hodson, Mrs Kennedy, Miss Jewsbury, morsel of dull lead, scarcely larger than the black pupil of Mr Macfarlane, Mr Kennedy, Mr H. G. Bell, Mr her eye, work such a change as this? Could the art of man Malcolm, and some others. London. Whittaker and do so much and so soon? But it was even somshe was Co. 2 vols. 8vo. 1831,

dead-dead! and the blood that stained my bands, my face,

my bosom, was her life's blood. My brain was bewildered; There is both variety and amusement in these two and when my friends consolingly said, Helenizza would volumes; and for these excellent qualities they are mainly be a saint in Heaven, I could not comprehend how ber pure, indebted to the exertions of the fair sisters, whose lucu- holy spirit could be severed or separated from the pure, brations occupy at least four-fifths of the work. As for angelic form I still clasped in my arms. their contributors , with the exception of Mr Macfarlane inform me of the aga's will, and of the sum I was expected

* In the course of the morning some neighbours came to -an excellent tale from whose pen opens the first vo

to contribute : for even the Turks had not heart to face the lume-ive must say they have scarcely done their duty. wretchedness they had made. I took the money from my They have sent for the most part only scraps, or what our casket, which the attention of my servant or friends (and worthy old housekeeper would call “odds and ends." none of mine) had rescued from the fire, and mechanically Wbatever praise the work deserves is due almost exclu- counted out the pieces. It was a heavy sum, but it cost me sively to the Misses Corbett. Their translations from not a thought; I could have thrown all that was left to me the Danish and German are gourd and interesting ; but

at my oppressors' feet with the same indifference. their Scotch tales of “ Muirside Maggie,” “ Lochair

“ We were carried (the remains of my Helenizza, my Voss," "" The Judge and the Freebooter," and the

“ Mil- wife, and myself) to a neighbour's house, ours being a heap

of ruins. The women engaged themselves in preparations ler of Calder,” are entitled to still higher commendation. for the funeral, and at the evening hour, borne down with They are true to nature, and contain many scenes of na- grief, I staggered after the flower-covered corpse of my child tural pathos or humour, which cannot be read without to the grave. As she lay extended on her little bier, by the

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