Sweetness has left the music, How could he say Good night!" Frazer's Magazine has a kind of low second-hand cleverness about it. The first article-" Parliamentary Eloquence," is lively, rattling, and, on the whole, just. It is the writing of a man of talent, who joined a party not from conviction, but because it was in power, and when it falls gives vent to his disappointment, by snarling at every body. "The United States, from Goethe," is stolen verbatim from our No. 102.-The Englishman has our best wishes. We like its principles, and esteem its editor, (there is only one-Mr Kennedy.) Among the articles in the present number, our chief favourites are " Glen Ora"" The Dropping Glen" and "Bird-nesting." -The Metropolitan is full of good matter, but withal somewhat heavy and deficient in nerve. Lady Morgan's contribution, "The Chancellor's Levee," "The Execution of Calas," and "The Life of a Sailor," will all be read with interest. There is more fine taste, and more extensive erudition in this magazine, than in any of its rivals; but it is not sufficiently striking. Its poetrystrange to say-is exceedingly tame and commonplace, and its politics, though generous, quite those of a schoolboy. We regret that we have not space to transcribe all the sweet cooings of these Alpine turtles. Arnold's concluding speech, however, must not be omitted. "Oh, may Heaven bless thee, modest Margaret! So much for the author's dramatic power; now for a spice of his poetry. A storm is thus described: "I do remember, when I was a boy, is made up, is peculiar : "It shall be. The line which we have printed in italics is inimitable. The picture of Resolution, in the form of a giant, impelling the reluctant hero by the application of his foot to that part of the body which men, hesitating to encounter danger, are figuratively said to hang, is novel and ingenious. Not less original is the expression which we subjoin ; "The sun had shrivell'd to have witness'd Gesler must be a 66 strange fish" in the author's estimation. We should like to know from some of our anato The Deliverance of Switzerland. A Dramatic Poem. By H. C. Deakin. Second Edition. Post 8vo. Pp. 270. London. Smith, Elder, and Co. 1831. THIS poem is not like Lord Byron's "Heaven and Earth," a mystery, although, how it should reach a second edition is-to us at least. The author tells us, that he has neither read Schiller's William Tell, nor Knowles's play of the same name, and we do most potently believe him. Had he seen either of these works, hemical friends whether they ever encountered such a lusus could scarcely have escaped, so completely as he has, every reflex tinge of their peculiar styles of poetry. He is, however, quite original. Our readers shall have a taste of him, both in his stormy and his melting moods. The passage which follows is, as Bottom, the great prototype of dramatic critics, would say, "Ercles' vein-a tyrant's vein." Rudolph attempts to be saucy to Margaret, when Arnold, her true love, rushes in and seizes him by the throat. "Arnold. Thou libel on the form of man! what mean'st, In the great Eye of Heaven, to do? Rudolph. Unhold me, or I'll fell thee, peasant! What would we not give to see this scene performed! Our next selection is from a love scene; our readers do not require to be told that a lover's vein "is more condoling." "Margaret. All my affections, all my morning thoughts And evening prayers are for thy safety, Arnold. Arnold. Ah! how I thank thee! then thou'lt not refuse naturæ as is described in these two lines: "Count Gesler! there's but a single plank between Thy naked spirit and the flesh that clothes it." Before we quit this volume, we must advert to the concluding sentence of the Preface: "It is not the matter of a critique so much as the manner of it, that wounds and irritates the feelings; the justice of the former would not be the less evident without the severity of the latter; and I am quite sure an author is more likely to be benefited by justice administered with kindness, than with those unfeeling and vulgar licks with the rough side of the tongue,' which are so often had recourse to-it has been my fortune hitherto to escape these personalities, and I sincerely trust I may continue to do so." Whether what we have said fall within the author's notion of" personalities" we know not-it does not within our acceptation of the word. To the charge of laughing at him instead of criticising, should it be preferred, we plead guilty. Every writer in verse is either a poet or no poet. If the former, it is our custom to point out the peculiar bent of his genius, not to pick out stray blemishes; if the latter, we laugh at the strange unnatural distortions of thought, conceits, and extravagancies which he attempts to pass off upon us for poetry, but dream as little of scrutinizing his intellectual claims as an anatomist would think of subjecting Punch to the dissecting knife, after seeing that worthy expiate his misdemeanours on the gallows. As to what is said by Mr Deakin respecting gentle remonstrances, it would be all very well at school where the object is to encourage meritorious boys, but in the world men must speak plainly, and learn to put up with plain speaking. Those who would reject no hyperboles of applause, must even run the risk of having themselves abused. SCATTERED NOTICES OF ANTIQUITY, INCIDENTS, APOPHTHEGMS, ANECDOTES, MANNERS, &c. By William Tennant, Author of“ Anster Fair.” DIOGENES, surnamed the Dog, or the Cynic, was a native of Sinope, but lived for the greatest part of his life at Athens, where his usual domicile was a tub or large hogshead, where he slept at night, and hovelled during the morning and evening, much to the amusement of the Athenian boys, who sometimes pelted at and broke down his wooden dormitory with stones. In every thing this man studied eccentricity; in his dress and doctrine, as well as his domicile. He went about with his scrip and staff as a mendicant, at the same time that he gave public lectures on the most abstruse and sublime themes of philosophy to the enlightened citizens of Athens. He wrote some tragedies and many philosophical treatises, all of which are lost, so that nothing now remains of him but his sayings, which are quite enough to prove him to have been the most original, sarcastic, and powerful mind of antiquity. He excited the laughter of the Athenians, much to the prejudice of Plato his rival, by producing on the floor of his lecture-room a cock, denuded of wings and feathers, as an appropriate exemplification of the unfortunate definition of Plato, who had styled man a biped without wings. "Behold!" said he to his amused audience, "here is Plato's man!" His rival was so ashamed, that he corrected or retracted his definition. The eccentric sage of Sinope was wont to embrace in winter statues coated with ice and snow, to accustom himself, he said, to hardihood; for the same reason, he placed himself under roof-spouts in heavy rains to benefit his constitution with an effectual cold bath. He, in his halfserious half-jocular mendicating strolls, supplicated, sometimes, not for money, but for golden and brazen statues, that he might accustom himself to a refusal; from any avaricious person he happened to meet, he solicited as an alms no less than a mina, (L.3, 15s.) saying, that he begged and got smaller sums from generous persons who gave to him often, but from misers, who gave but once, he would take no less a sum than he had mentioned. When asked how he wished to be buried, "With my face downwards," he replied, " for in a little while every thing in this world will be turned upside-down." When invited by some person to supper, he said he would not go, as last time he went, the inviter was not sufficiently grateful for it. During his life, his reputation for strength of character and genius was such as to induce the victoThe rious son of Philip to pay him a visit in his tub. Macedonian introduced himself to him as the son of Philip and King of Macedonia. The philosopher announced himself very simply as being but Diogenes the Dog. So strongly was Alexander impressed with the originality of his mental qualifications, that he left him with the extraordinary expression, that, were he not Alexander, he would fain be Diogenes. It is recorded that he died on the same day at Corinth with the Persian conqueror at Babylon. The Greeks were wont, in summer, to cool their wines wells of water. by the dilution of snow, or by dipping the wine-vessel in with some people of the East, they had, in the interior It is supposed also that, in common part of their houses, small subterranean pits, or square receptacles, (called xaxxo,) nicely coated over with very fine and impervious plaster, or gypsum, where they held their wine, as in tanks, and from which they drew out at times what family uses required. When Diphilo, the comic poet, of whose dramas the prologues were exceedingly cold and uninteresting, was dining, on a summer day, with the witty Gnathaena of Athens, she entertained him with her best and most refreshing wines, at the coolness of which the poet expressed his surprise, saying, "That her wine-tank must be exceedingly refrigerating." -"Not at all," replied the lady; "when I wish to cool my wines, I merely dip them into one of the prologues of your plays!" One of the most fanciful dishes made use of by the epicures of antiquity, was a whole pig, one-half of which was boiled, the other half roasted. Inglorious, and allattempting as are our modern cooks and gastronomists, we know not if their ingenuity has reached a consummation so exquisite. The whole tedious process of preparation remains to us in Greek description, so that a modern refiner may instruct his cook from it, and elaborate out a similar tidbit. It seems to have been the most masterly feat, the ne plus ultra of pristine gastrology. Whole pigs boiled were very common, both at Greek and Roman tables. It was, perhaps, first of all a Macedonian dish. The pigs were stuffed with thrushes, fig-peckers, yolks of eggs, oysters, &c. A dish of this description was called by the Romans The Wooden Horse, their imaginations, from the multifarious ingredients, assimilating it to the armour-crammed horse of Sinon at the siege of Troy. This was a favourite mess with the pontifices or priests, the most accomplished epicures of that capital of the world, who new well, by experience, all the best meats and best wines to be found throughout the world. Peacocks were also a favourite dish among the Romans. It was the luxurious orator Hortensius that first presented a peacock at one of the augural suppers, and his example was rapidly followed, so that immense numbers of these birds were reared at Rome and its neighbourhood, to supply the tables of the rich. After they had become somewhat plentiful, they sold at about L. 1, 15s. each, and their eggs at nearly 3s. 4d. each. Joyous as were the preparations, and magnificent as was the sport of the Olympic Games, the character of society in Greece must needs have been injuriously affected by them; Does he, whose lead-encumber'd hand has weight and, in comparison with the polish of our modern modes, Of Greece's thousand ills and thousand shames, Their splendid cloaks wax tawdry and threadbare, stare. Hence, chief in this the men of Greece I blame, EDINBURGH DRAMA. SOME geese will have it, that Kean ought not to have returned to the stage. This is just reversing the order of things he ought not to have left it. He may-from our recollections of his last visit-he must have failed in physical strength, so as to incapacitate him for the performance of some of his parts, but there is still a wide range left for him. His Shylock, on Wednesday evening, was masterly and overpowering as ever. Then as to what is said of his moral conduct, we have no wish to know about it—no right to know about it-we will know nothing about it. It is Kean the actor that we care for, and him only we wish to see. Lastly, in regard to his huffs, and pets, and bullying of the audience, we can take it at the hands of Edmund Kean. He is a spoiled child, but we will not deprive ourselves of the pleasure of seeing him because he is foolish occasionally. That ebullient temperament which creates his genius transports him at times beyond himself, makes him forget where and what he is, leads him to swagger and bluster out of time and place. But his own after-reflections will be punishment enough -we will not add to their stings. We are happy that he has taken the rue after his premature abandonment of the stage-we are happy to see him once more among us and we will be happy how soon the manager's interests and his own convenience shall render a repetition of the expedient. We have many faults to find with Kean's acting. We can admire the performances of his rivals-their thorough conception of a character-their taste, passion, and energy; but yet we feel, whenever we see him, that he has that within which places him immeasurably above them all. It is true genius. Others have high talent sedulously cultivated-they have worked themselves up to eminence-but Kean's greatness is a spontaneous effusion of nature. We admire them, but he rules us, overwhelms us, bears us captive along with him. To the finest passages of others we can say that is admirable, because : but Kean incapacitates us for the moment from reasoning about him. His flashes are the lightning of the mind, and jar us as with an electric shock. Shylock is the only character in which we have yet seen him. We fear he is too weak to do himself justice in Richard or Sir Giles. His Macbeth, although adorned with passages of surpassing beauty, we never much cared for. His Othello is yet before us. But his Shylock was worthy of his best days. It was a mighty nature warped by circumstances-relying upon its innate strength amidst oppression and indignity-feeling itself loosened from the obligations of faith and charity by injustice, but neither quailing before nor bending beneath it. There was a marked difference in his bearing before the young spendthrift who came to borrow, and the wealthy, powerful, and brow-beating merchant. His deportment to wards the former was unabashed, unconstrained-to- O gaudy Noon! I love thy form of light, wards the latter he was all smiles and courtesies. But the keen fierce eye of the famished lion glared through the tender foliage. He was ready to spring, and but waited till he saw his bound would be effective. When he made his appearance after his daughter's escape, he reeled and staggered as if the blow had struck him with blindness. The intensity of his curses was withering his triumph fiendish. In the trial scene he stood unassailable by supplication, triumphantly conscious of his power. At times, however, his hatred and loathing would break out, and then it was like the snarl of a starving wolf. Throughout, the sarcasms in which Shylock so frequently indulges, were given with all the intensity of one who wished to sting. There were moments, too, of redeeming human feeling—as when cursing his daughter, he interrupted himself, with a faltering voice, "No, no, no:" and in many of his bold appeals to the immutable principles of justice, we felt that this bold bad spirit was still a man. His action throughout was free, vigorous, and beautiful; and the low notes of his voice are mellow OH! ever thus to lean and look on thee; That witching smile! Though sweet thy voice to me Thou thus declinest thy head! In such a mood→→→ TO A LADY, ENCLOSING A POEM OF SOME LENGTH. By George Winter. When May's soft falling showers and kindly sun Have aught of beauty in them, let me tell- PREFERENCE. By J. B. Thomson. O fair-hair'd Morn! I love thy countenance, When thou goest, in thy steps of loveliness, To greet the mountain's forehead with a kiss, And bathe all in the beauty of thy glance. And voice sweet as the sounds that zephyrs shake From their wings o'er a slumbering sunny lake,—-— I love thee for thy eye so blue-so bright. But, O pale, pensive Night! more tenderly I love to walk with thee in solitude, Clad in the dark robes of thy widowhood, When the weird, wither'd moon is in the sky; And, where the willow sighs and nettle waves, Weep with the moon o'er dew-besprinkled graves. TO A RAVEN. By Thomas Brydson. With short, deep cry, and quickly moving wing, From the domains of human mansionry, Among its rocks. The features of the dead glare up at thee! LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES. PARIS and London, a satirical novel, by the author of the Exquisites, &c., is immediately forthcoming. Henry Lawes Long, Esq., is about to publish The Route of Hannibal from the Rhone to the Alps. Mr Bernays has in the press a series of Familiar German Exer cises. Mr J. F. Pennie announces by subscription, and under the pa tronage of the king, a volume entitled "Britain's Historical Drama," intended to illustrate the manners of different early eras in Britain, The Rev. George Garioch, Minister of Meldrum, has in the press a volume of Sermons, on various subjects of Christian Doctrine and Practice. Miss Landon's forthcoming prose work is to be entitled "Romance and Reality." Mr Ross Cox is about to publish "The Columbia River," inclu. ding a residence of six years on the western side of the Rocky Mountains, together with a journey across the American conti. nent. Victor Hugo has lately presented the Parisians with a novel, entitled "Notre-Dame de Paris," which has met with the most rapid sale, having, during the month, arrived at a fifth edition. The reader is carried back to the age of Louis XI., and the French critics say, with the magic of Sir Walter. The Library of the British Museum opened to the public on Saturday last for the first time, and will continue open, in future, at the usual hours, on Saturday, as well as other days throughout the year, excepting three weeks holydays-at Easter, Whitsun tide, and Christmas. FRENCH POPULAR LECTURE.-The want of room prevented us, last Saturday, from noticing a lecture on French Historians, recently delivered before a numerous audience in the Hopetoun Rooms, by M. Surenne, of the Military Academy. The way in which the French historical writers of the 17th and 18th century were noticed by the lecturer, was luminous and comprehensive; and, as far as we can judge, the historical extracts were as re markable for the effective and impressive manner in which they were delivered, as for the eloquence of their composition. At the close of the lecture, the pleasant scene of awarding prizes to gen. tlemen who competed in writing an essay, the subject of which had been fixed by M. Surenne at the close of his last course of lectures, ensued. We cannot conclude without saying, that this new method of promoting French literature has our unqualified approbation. CHEROKEE INDIANS.-The progress in civilisation made by the Cherokees is altogether unexampled. The bulk of the people live in comparative ease; many of them even in high style. Colonel Gold, of Connecticut, who resided eight months amongst them, was witness of many of their works during that period; of the cultivation of land, of the building of houses and boats, and many improvements. The education of the children particularly attract : THREE DAYS AT CLOVENFORD. EVENING-THE STRANGER-DEPARTURE. THE sacred rage of hunger being appeased, we three friends sat, on the evening of the second day, round a table on which were placed sundry jugs of smoking toddy, a box of cigars, and the dispatches which had that morning been received from Edinburgh. We are no enemies to a long walk on a rainy day, by the side of a wood of dark pines, through whose branches the wind is making wild music, or over a bleak hill, exposed to the whole pelting of the storm. The sense of our power to overcome and laugh at the petty hinderances of mere physical obstacles, exhilerates our spirits,-every successful pressure on wards against a fierce gust of wind, bearing a whole deluge of water upon its breast, is a triumph-while the blast itself sounds the trumpet note of our conquest. It is rarely that we essay to lift our voice in song, but in such a situation we can find no other vent to our transports. Nevertheless, we admit, that after a day's work of this kind— after a well-won field-we enjoy the dreamy diffusion of limb, the glancing fire, the vestments warm and dry, and the accessories to good fellowship which crown the after dinner board, with equal intensity. Fully possessed with this feeling of tranquil delight, we sat conversing with our friends, and, in the happy pauses of discourse, listening "to hear the wind whistle without." Our talk was of many and diversified subjects -of friends far over the sea, and their probable fatesof the studies of our youth and maturer manhood-of the character and conduct which are essential to success in life of loves and quarrels, misunderstandings and reconciliations. The prospects of our native land, at this great crisis of her fate, were not forgotten. While Alfred, with all the buoyant and enthusiastic hope of youth, looked forward to a more glorious developement of the national energies, under a more free system of government, the Lounger, older in the ways of the world, and better acquainted with the weakness of man, shook his head, and, though a firm believer in the ultimate triumph of good, acknowledged some misgivings as to the immediate and tranquil settlement of affairs. Price 6d. The conversation was assuming a more serious tone than we felt at that moment inclined to indulge in. We therefore requested Alfred to open the letters which suggest some new topic. were upon the table, hoping one or other of them might Like the Portuguese Jew whom Cervantes employed to translate the narrative of the illustrious Cid Hamet Benengeli, no sooner did he cast his eye upon the first manuscript he unsealed, than he began to laugh. "Do you remember your learned dissertation yesterday anent your causes of dislike to certain amatory effusions? Here is a song of true love after your own heart. Listen to A SERENADE. "Love, if you're sleeping, awaken! And hear how your true-hearted swain This terrible tempest of rain. And all for his deep love to thee!" "Oh! when did the wretched appeal to Or when was her tender heart steel to The sorrows of those who complain? "What earthly could tempt you, poor fellow, of your friends-a soldier amiable as he is brave-with "A jocular effusion from the most gentle and pensive Would you believe it-from Malcolm?" a heart fearless as his sword, and soft as his feather. "I admit," he said, "that the alteration contemplated in the election of our legislative assembly is most just and called for. I admit that it leaves the great fabric of our social and civil constitution intact. I admit that empires, no more than men, can stand still, but must jour-you?" ney onward with time. And yet I have my fears the event of all change is as uncertain as the change itself is inevitable. I am supported, it is true, by the cheering belief that all things ultimately work together for good, and my doubts are probably in a great measure owing to the hankering of old age after quiet, but I feel and must utter them. I would not damp your trusting spirit, my young, friend, that best portion of youth; but believe me your age will be a bustling, and possibly a turbulent one. Forewarned,, forearmed; an old man's warning can do you no harm, even though Providence should grant that there be no occasion for it." "Pooh!" interrupted the Lounger, 66 you know little is a smile of sly observant humour plays lambently in of Malcolm if this astonishes you. Quiet as he sits, there the corner of his eye. Let us have it." And Alfred read aloud, with good emphasis and discretion, IMPOSITIONS. The world is composed of deceivers, And plain honest people their tools,—— |
