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ceived the same compliment on his return to powers and energies which dignify man. They that favoured residence. The people, who were have no enthusiasm, po devoted admiration, or of course assembled in great crowds, did not love, for objects anconnected with the neces. appear to me to look on the magnificent dis- sities of their mortal being, or the low gratiplay before them with any feeling of religious fications of sense. They have a few mighty awe, or to regard it in any other light than, at names to lend them an inspiration, which the most, a national spectacle.
might supply the place of contemporary genius; Of the national character of the Portuguese and with those, of which they ought to be in general, I can say very little, as my personal fond in proportion to their rarity, they appear intercourse with them was extremely limited. scarcely acquainted. Of the rich stores of Were I to believe all that some English resi- poetry and romance, wbich they might enjoy dents in Lisbon have told me, I should draw a from the neighbouring country and almost gloomy picture of human degradation unre- similar language of Spain, they are, for the most lieved by a single redeeming grace. I should part, unconscious. Not only has the spirit say that the common people are not only igno- of chivalry departed from these mountains, rant and filthy, but universally dishonest; that where it once was glowing; but its marvelthey blend the vices of savage and social life, lous and golden tales are neglected or forand are ready to become either pilferers or gotten. assassins; that they are cruel to their children, The degradation of the public mind in Lis. lax in friendship, and implacable in revenge; bon is increased by the notorious venality of that the higher orders are at once the dupes the ministers of justice. There is no crime for and tyrants of their servants, familiar with which indemnity may not be purchased by a them one moment, and brutally despotic the bribe. Even offences against the government next; that they are in constant jealousy of their ' of the king may be winked at, if the culprit is wives, and not without reason; and that even able to make an ample pecuniary sacrifice. their vices are without dignity or decorum. It is a well-known fact that some of the chief All this can never be true, or Lisbon would not be conspirators in the plot to assassinate Marshal subsisting in order and peace. To me, the in- Beresford, and change the whole order of habitants appear in a more amiable light things in Portugal, were able to make their Filthy and ignorant the common people doubt- peace with the judges, and, on the ground of less are; but they are sober ; and those dreadful some technical informality, were dismissed excesses and sorrows which arise from the use, without trial. When any one is accused of an in England, of ardent spirits, are consequently offence, he is generally sent at once to prison, unknown. They are idle; but the warmth of where he remains until he can purchase his the climate may, in some degree, excuse them. freedom. There does not seem, however, any No rank is destitute of some appearance of disposition to persecution for opinions, or Dative courteousness. The rich are not, indeed, to exercise wanton cruelty. The Inquisition Howards or Clarksons; they have no idea of is no longer an engine in the hands of the exerting themselves to any great degree, to priests, but is merely a tribunal for the exdraw down blessings on the heads of others or amination and the punishment of political oftheir own; they do not go in search of wretched- fences. Death is rarely inflicted; for it brings ness in order to remove it, but when misery is no gain to the magistrate. Criminals guilty brought before them, as it is constantly here, in of the highest offences are kept in prison until a thousand ghastly forms, they are far from with they are forgotten, without any one knowing holding such aid as money can render. The or caring about their fate. In the absence of gardens of their country villas, which are ex- the sovereign almost all the civil authorities ceedingly elegant, are always open in the even have become totally corrupted, for there is no ings to any of the populace who choose to patriot to watch, and no public voice to awe walk there, so that the citizen, on the numerous them. The people appear sunk in apathy to holidays which the Romish church affords, all exceptiog gain ; and the greater number is not compelled to inhale the dust in some of them crawl on with little hope, except to wretched tea-garden, which is a libel at once on supply the cravings of hunger. The city, notnature and art, but may rove with his children withstanding its populousness, exhibits all the through groves of orange and thickets of roses. marks of decay-buildings in ruins amidst its When the company thus indulged meet any of stateliest streets, and houses begun on a magthe family which reside in the mansion, they nificent scale, and left upfinished for years. acknowledge the favour which they are enjoy- The foreigo merchants, especially the British, ing by obeisances not ungracefully made, which who use it as a central port, give it an artiare always returned with equal courtesy. Ificial life, without which its condition would am assured, that this privilege is never abused; be most wretched. In bidding farewell to this even the children walk amidst the flowers and bright abode of degraded humanity, I felt it imthe fruits, without the slightest idea of touching possible to believe that it was destined grathem. This circumstance alone would induce dually to become desolate and voiceless. Glume to doubt the justice with which some have rious indeed would be the change, if knowledge attempted to fix the brand of dishonesty on the should expand the souls now so low and coninferior classes of Portugal. The people want tracted, into a sympathy with the natural wonnot the natural tenderness and gentle move- ders around them-if the arts should once ments of the heart; all their deficiencies arise more adorn the romantic city--and the orange from the absence of high principle, the lan- groves and lovely spots among the delicate guishing of intellect, and the decay of the loftier cork trees, should be vocal with the innocent
gayety of happy peasants, or shed their influences on the hearts of youthful bards. If,
and their spirit was regulated by wise and beneficent governors, the capital of Portugal
indeed, the people were awakened into energy, i would assuredly become the fairest of cities.
MR. CHARLES LLOYD’S POEMS."
The RE is no more remarkable instance of the “cant of criticism,” than the representation
currently received as distinctive, whereby several authors, chiefly residing in the neighbourhood of the lakes, were characterized as belonging to one school of poetry. In truth, propinquity of residence, and the bonds of private friendship, are the only circumstances which have ever given the slightest colour to the hypothesis which marked them out as disciples of the same creed. It is scarcely possible to conceive individuals more dissimilar in the objects of their choice, or in the essential properties of their genius. Who, for example, can have less in common than Wordsworth and Coleridge, if we except those faculties which are necessarily the portion of the highest order of imaginative minds ! The former of these has sought for his subjects among the most ordinary occurrences of life, which he has dignified and exalted, from which he has extracted the holiest essences of good, or over which he has cast a consecrating and harmonizing light “which never was by sea or land.” The latter, on the other hand, has spread abroad his mighty mind, searching for his materials through all history and all science, penetrating into the hidden soul of the wildest superstitions, and selecting the richest spoils of time from the remotest ages. Wordsworth is all intensity—he sees nothing, but through the hallowing medium of his own soul, and represents all things calm, silent, and harmonious as his own perceptions. Coleridge throws himself into all the various objects which he contemplates, and attracts to his own imagery their colours and forms. The first, seizes only the mighty and the true with a giant grasp:-the last has a passionate and almost effeminate love of beauty and tenderness which he never loses. One looks only on the affections in their inmost home, while the other perceives them in the lightest and remotest tints, which they cast on objects the strangest and most barbarous. All the distinction, in short, between the intense and the expansive—the severe and the lovely—the philosophic and the magical—really separates these great poets, whom it has been the fashion to censure as united in one heresy. If we cast the slightest glance at Southey's productions, we shall find him unlike either of these, his asso
*Desultory Thoughts in London, Titus and Gisippus, with other Poems. By CuARLEs LLoyd, author of No. Canorae, and translator of Alfieri's Tragedies, 12mo, 1821.
ciates—offering a child-like feebleness in contrast to Wordsworth's nerve—and ranging through mythologies and strange fantasies, not only with less dominion than Coleridge, but merely portraying the shapes to which they gave existence, instead of discovering the spirit of truth and beauty within them. Nor does the author before us, often combined with these by the ignorance or the artifice of criticism, differ less widely from them. Without Words. worth's intuitive perception of the profoundest truths, or Coleridge's feeling of beauty, he has a subtile activity of mind which supplies the place of the first, and a wonderful power of minute observation, which, when directed to lovely objects, in a great degree produces the effect of the latter. All these three rise on some occasions to the highest heaven of thought and feeling, though by various processes— Wordsworth reaching it at once by the divine wingedness of his genius—Coleridge ascending to it by a spiral track of glory winding on through many a circuit of celestial light—and Lloyd stepping thither by a firm ladder, like that of Jacob, by even steps, which the feet of angels have trodden! The peculiar qualities of Mr. Lloyd's genius have never been so clearly developed as in the chief poem of the work before us. In his “Nugae Canorae,” all his thoughts and feelings were overcast by a gentle melancholy, which rendered their prominences less distinct, as it shed over them one sad and sober hue. Even, however, in his most pensive moods, the vigorous and restless activity of his intellect might be discerned, curiously inquiring for the secret springs of its own distress, and regarding its sorrows as high problems worthy of the most painful scrutiny. While he exhibited to us the full and pensive stream of emotion, with all the images of soft clouds and delicate foliage reflected on its bosom, he failed not to conduct us to its deep-seated fountains, or to lay open to our view the jagged caverns within its banks. Yet here the vast intellectual power was less conspicuous than in his last poems, because the personal emotion was more intense, single, and pervading. He is now, we rejoice to observe, more “i' the sun,” and consequently, the nice workings of his reason are set more distinctly before us. The “Desultory Thoughts in London" embrace a great variety of topics, associated in the mind of the author with the metropolis, but many of them belonging to those classes of abstraction which might as fitly be contemplated in a
desert. Among these are “Fale, free-will, The blind as well might doubt of sense and sight; foreknowledge absolute,"—the theories of
Peruse their lives, who thus have vow'd pursuit manners and morals--the doctrines of ex. Of heavenly communion : in despite pediency and self-interest with many specu- Thuir singleness of heart: except ye fight
of all your arguments ye can't dispute lations relating to the imaginative parts of 'Gainst facts, ye, self-convicted, must be mate. literature, and the influences of religion upon Will ye deny, that they've a secret found them-all of which are grasped by the hand to baffle fate, and heal each mortal wound? of a master. The whole range of controversial writing scarcely affords an example of Will ye deny, to them alone 'tis given, propositions stated so lucidly, qualified so 'Tis mainly requisite, to partake of heaven,
Who its existence, as a faith, embraced • craftily, and urged with such exemplary fair That the heart's treasures there should first be placed. ness and candour as in this work. It must, According to thy faith shall it be given indeed, be admitted, that the admirable qualities To thee, with spiritual glories, to be graced. of the argument render it somewhat unfit for As well all facts whence man experience hath, marriage "with immortal verse." Philoso- As doubt immunities bound up in faith. phical poetry, when most attractive, seizes on 'Tis easy thing to say, that men are knaves ; some grand elemental truths, which it links to
'Tis easy thing to say, that men are fools ; the noblest material images, and seeks rather 'Tis easy thing to say, an author raves ; to send one vast sentiment to the heart through Easy, to him who always ridicules the medium of the imagination, than to lead the incomprehensible, to allege-and saves the mind by a regular process of logic, to the
Trouble of farther thought--that oft there rules result which it contemplates. Mere didactic That half-pretence oft ekes out half-insane.
Fanatic feeling in a madman's brain : poetry, as Pope's Essay on Man, succeeds not by the nice balance of reasons, but by decking We know all this ; but we know also well, out some obvious common-place in a gorgeous
These men we speak of tried by every test rhetoric, or by expressing a familiar sentiment Adinissible, all other men excel in such forcible language as will give it a Are they, stern Pate, spite of thy direst spell :
In virtue, and in happiness. Since bless'd singalar charm to all who have felt its justice Infection, loathsome maladies, each pest in a plainer garb. In general, the poet, no And plague--for these have they,-should they assail less than the woman, who deliberates, is lost. A panacea which will never fail. But Mr. Lloyd's effusions are in a great mea- God is their rock, their fortress of defence, sure exceptions to this rule ;-for though they
In time of trouble, a defence most holy; are sometimes " harsh and crabbed," and some for them the wrath of man is impotence ; times too minute, they are marked by so His pride, a bubble ; and his wisdom, folly. hearty an earnestness, and adorned by such that “ peace” have they-unspeakable intense, variety of illustration, and imbued with such “ Which passeth understanding !" Melancholy deep sentiment, that they often enchant while Life's gands to them: the unseen they explore : they convince us. Although his processes
Rooied in heaven, to live is to adore ! are careful, his results belong to the stateliest Ye, that might cavil at these humble lays, range of truths. His most laborious reason Peruse the page of child-like Fenelon : ings lead us to elevated views of humanity- Hear what the wrapped, transfigured Guion says to the sense of a might above reason itself to
With ills of body such as few have known ;those objects which have inspired the most
Tedious imprisonment; in youthful days glorious enthusiasm, and of which the pro- To poverty devoted, she defies
To luxuries used, they all aside are thrown; foundest bards have delighted to afford us Its sorest ills, blessing the sacrifice. glimpses. It is quite inspiring to follow him as he detects the inconsistencies of worldly Was e'er an instance known, that man could taste wisdom, as he breaks the shallow reasonings
True peace of mind, and spurn religion's laws ? of the advocates of expediency into pieces, or in other things were this alliance traced ; as he vindicates their prerogatives to faith and we scruple not to call them; or, at least, hope. He leads us up a steep and stony as Condition indispensable, whence draws cent, step by step; but cheers us by many a The one, the other. This coincidence ravishing prospect by the way, and conducts But grant me here ;~and grant the consequence. at last to an eminence, not only above the Facts, facts, are stubborn things! We trust the sense mists of error, but where the rainbow comes,
of sight, because the experience of each day and whence the gate of heaven may be seen Warrants our trust in it. Now, tell me whence as from the Delectable Mountains which Bun It is, no mortal yet could dare to say, yan's Pilgrim visited.
Man trusted in his God for his defence, We scarcely know how to select a specimen
And was confounded 1 cover'd with dismay ! which shall do justice to an author whose Loses he friends ? Religion dries his tears! speculations are too vast to be completed Loses he life ? Religion calms his fears ! within a short space, and are connected with Loses he health ? Religion balms his mind, others by delicate links of thought. We will And pains of flesh seem ministers of grace, give, however, his vindication of the enthusi- And wait upon a rapture more refined, astic and self-denying spirit, which, however
Than e'en in Justinst health e'er found a place. associated with absurdity, is the soul of all Loses he wealth? the pleasure it can find
He had before renounced; thus he can trace religion and virtue.
No difference, but that now the heart bestows
What through a hand less afluent scantier flow.. Reasoners, that argue of ye know not what, Do not, as mystical, my strain deride :
He too as much enjoys the spectacle By facts' criterion be its doctrine tried.
or good, when done by others as by bim:
Loses he fame : the honour he loves well
that vein of reflection which our author never Is not of earth, but that which seraphim
loses : Might prize! Loses he liberty 1 his cell, And all its vaults, echo his rapturous hymn:
Oh, were the eye of youth a moment ours! He feels as free as freest bird in air!
When every flower that gemın'd the various earth His heaven-shrined spirit finds heaven everywhere! Brought down from Heaven enjoyment's genial showers !
And every bird, of everlasting mirth "Tis not romance which we are uttering! No;
Prophesied to us in romantic bowers!
Caused that each filmy web where dew-drops trembled,
We can remember earliest days of spring, of mortal sufferance! Many and many a martyr
When violets blue and white, and primrose pale, Has found this bound up in religion's charter.
Like callow nestlings 'neath their mother's wing
Each peep'd from under the broad leaf's green veil. Pleasure, or philosophical or sensual,
When streams look'd blue; and thin clouds clustering Is not, ought not to be, man's primary rule ;
O'er the wide empyrean did prevail, We often feel bound by a law potential
Rising like incense from the breathing world,
Whose gracious aspect was with dew impearl'd.
When a soft moisture, steaming everywhere,
To the earth's countenance mellower hues imparted; Has right to guide itself by the expedient.
When sylvan cboristers self-poised in air,
Or perched on bows, in shrilly quiverings darted Duty is man's first law, not satisfaction !
Their little raptures forth ; when the warın glare That satisfaction comes from this perform'd
(While glancing lights backwards and forwards started, We grant! But should this be the prime attraction As if with meteors silver-sheathed 'twere flooded) That led us to performance, snon informid
Sultry, and silent, on the hill's turf brooded. By finding that we've miss'd the meed of action,
We shall confess our error. Oft we're warm'd, Oh in these moments we such joy have felt, By a strong spirit we cannot restrain,
As if the earth were nothing but a shrine ; To deeds, which make all calculation vain.
Where all, or awe inspired or made one melt
Gratefully towards its architect divine ! Had Regulus reason'd, whether on the scale
Father! in future (as I once have dwelt Of use, in Rome, his faculties would most,
Within that very sanctnary of thine Or Carthage-patriotism's cause avail,
When shapes, and sounds, seeni'd as but modes of Thee ! He never had resumed his fatal post.
That with experience gain'd were heaven to me! Brutus, Virginius had they tried by tale
Their country's cause, had never been her boast. of in the fulness of the joy ye give, Yet had it not these self-doom'd heroes seen,
Oh, days of youth! in summer's noon-tide hours, Rome "the eternal city," ne'er had been!
Did I a depth of quietness receive
From insects' drowsy bum, that all my powers Bhall Christ submit upon the cross to bleed,
Would baffle to portray! Let them that live And man for all he does a reason ask 1
In vacant solitude, speak from their bowers Have martyrs died, and confessors, indeed,
What nameless pleasures letter'd ease may cheer, That he must seek a why for every task 1
Thee, Nature ! bless'd to mark with eye and ear :If it be so, to prate we've little need
of this enlighten'd age! Take off the mask! Who can have watch'd the wild rose blusħiog dye, If it be so, and ye'll find this our proud age,
And seen what treasures its rich cnps contain; Its grand climacterick past is in its dotage.
Who, of soft shades the fine variety,
From white to deepest flush of vermeil stain 1 Thy name, Thermopylæ, had ne'er been heard, Who, when impearl'd with dew-drop's radianey
Were not the Greeks wiser than our wise men. Its petals breathed perfume, while he did strain
His very being, lest the sense should fail
Who, amid lanes, on eve of summer days,
Which sheep brouse, could the thicket's wealth bebold: 'Twill bring) to make a theory of the worse.
The fragrant honey-suckle's bowery maze 1
The furze bush, with its vegetable gold ? A theory for a declining race !
In every satin sheath that helps to raise No, let us keep at least our lips from lies;
The fox-glove's cone, the figures manifold If we have forfeited Truth's soaring grace,
With such a dainty exquisiteness wroughtLet us not falsify her prodigies.
Nor grant that thoughtful love they all have taught 1 We well may wear a blush upon our face,
The daisy, cowslip, each have to them given-
The wood anemone, the strawberry wild,
Grass of Parnassus, meek as star of even:
Bright, as the brightening eye of smiling child, Go to Palmyra's ruins; visit Greece,
And bathed in blue transparency of heaven, Behold! The wrecks of her magnificence
Veronica ; the primrose pale, and mild ;Seem left, in spite of man, thus to increase
or charms (of which to speak no tongue is able) The sting of satire on his impotence.
Intercommunion incommunicable ! As to betray how soon man's glories cease;
I had a cottage in a Paradise ! Tombs, time defying, of the most pretence
'Twere hard to enumerate the charms combined But only make us feel with more surprise,
Within the little space, greeting the eyes, How mean the things they would immortalize!
Its unpretending precincts that confined,
Onward, in front, a mountain stream did rise The following is only a portion of a series
Up, whose long course the fascinated mind of reminiscences equally luxurious and in-' (So apt the scene to awaken wildest themes) tense, and which are attended throughout by : Might localize the most romantic dreams.
When winter torrents, by the rain and snow, exhibits the same great intellectual power and Surlily dashing down the hills, were fed,
ceaseless activity of thought, which characterIts mighty mass of waters seem'd to flow
ize the Thoughts in London. Mr. Lloyd has With deafening course precipitous: its bed
taken the common incident of one lover reRocky, such steep declivities did show That towards us with a rapid course it sped,
signing his mistress to another, and the names Broken by frequent falls; thus did it roain
of his chief characters from Boccaccio, but, in In whirlpools eddying, and convulsed with foam. all other respects, the poem is original. Its
chief peculiarity is the manner in which it Flank'd were its banks with perpendicular rocks,
reasons upon all the emotions which it porWhose scars enormous, sometimes gray and bare, And sometimes clad with ash and gnarled oaks,
trays, especially on the progress of love in the
soul, with infinite nicety of discrimination, not The birch, the hazel, pine, and holly were. Their tawny leaves, the sport of winters' shocks, unlike that which Shakspeare has manifested on o'er its channel circled in the air ;
in his amatory poems. He accounts for the While, on their tops, and midway up them, seen, finest shade of feeling, and analyzes its essence, Lower'd cone-like firs and yews in gloomiest green. with the same care, as though he were deSo many voices from this river came
monstrating a proposition of Euclid. He is as In summer, winter, autumn, or the spring :
minute in his delineation of all the variations So many sounds accordant to each frame
of the heart, as Richardson was in his narraof Nature's aspect, (whether the storm's wing tives of matters of fact;-and, like him, thus Brooded on it, or pantingly, and tame,
throws such an air of truth over his statements, The low breeze crisp'd its waters) that, to sing
that we can scarcely avoid receiving them as Half of their tones, impossible ! or tell The listener's feelings from their viewless spell.
authentic history. At the same time, he con
ducts this process with so delicate a hand, and When fres gleam'd bright, and when the curtain'd room, touches his subjects with so deep a reverence
Well stock'd with books and music's implements, for humanity, that he teaches us to love our When children's faces, dress'd in all the bloom
nature the more from his masterly dissection. or innocent enjoyments, deep content's
By way of example of these remarks, we will Deepest delight inspired; when nature's gloom To the domesticated heart presents
give part of the scene between a lover who (By consummate tranquillity possest)
long has secretly been agitated by a passion Contrast, that might have stirr'd the dullest breast; for the betrothed mistress of his friend, and the
object of his silent affection whom he has just Yes,-in such hour as that-thy voice I've known,
rescued from a watery grave-though it is Oh, hallow'd stream !-fitly so named-(since tones of deepest melancholy swell'd upon
not perhaps the most beautiful passage of the The breeze that bore it)-fearful as the groans
poem: Or fierce night spirits! Yes, when tapers shone Athwart the room (when, from their skyey thrones
He is on land; on safe land is he come:
Sophronia's head he pillows on a stone : Of ice-piled height abrupt, rush'd rudely forth,
A death-like paleness hath usurp'd her bloom; Riding the blast, the tempests of the North ;)
Her head falls lapsing on his shoulder. None Thy voice I've known to wake a dream of wonder!
Were there to give him aid ! He fears her doom For though 'twas loud, and wild with turbulence,
Is seal'd for evermore! At last a groan And absolute as is the deep-voiced thunder,
Burst from her livid lips, and then the word Such fine gradations mark'd its difference
"Titus" he heard, or fancied that he heard ! of audibility, one scarce could sunder
Where was he then : From death to life restored ! Its gradual swellings from the influence
From hell to heaven! To rapture from despair! of harp Eolian, when, upon the breeze,
His hand he now lays on that breast adored; Floats in a stream its plaintive harmonies.
And now her pulse he feels; and now-(beware, One might have thought, that spirits of the air
Beware, rash youth!) bis lips draw in a hoard Warbled amid it in an ondersong;
of perfume from her lips, which though they were And of one might have thought, that shrieks were there Issuing
from thence, he drank with ecstasy.
Still closed, yet oft the inarticulate sigh,
Atill were they cold; her hands were also cold;
Those hands he chafed and, perhaps to restore
To her chill, paly lips their warmth, so bold Conjured from preternatural prison-house.
He grew, he kiss'd those pale lips o'er and o'er. But when the heavens are blue, and summer skies
Nay, to revive in their most perfect mould Are pictured in thy wave's cerulean glances ;
Their wonted rubeous hue, he dared do more ;Then thy crisp stream its course so gayly plies,
He glued his mouth to them, and breathed his breath Trips on so merrily in endless dances,
To die with her, or rescue her from death.
Thou art undone, mad youth! The fire of love
Burn'd so intensely in his throbbing veins, While each one's freshness seems to pay thee thanks.
That, had she been a statue, he might prove
A new Pygmalion, and the icy chains Solemn the mountains that the horizon close,
or death defy. Well then might he remove From whose drear verge thou seem'st to issue forth: The torpor which her o'er-wrought frame sustains. Sorcery might fitly dwell, one could suppose,
If sweet, revival from such menaced death ; (Or any wondrous spell of heaven or earth,
More sweet, revival by a lover's breath!
She feels the delicate inflnence through her thrill,
And with seal'd eye lay in a giddy trance, All that excites the imaginative mind !
Scarce dare she open them, when had her will The tale of Titus and Gisippus, which fol- Their lights on him. No, with a lingering skill
On this been bent, she felt the power to glance lows, while it is very interesting as a story, ! Ob, blame ber not s-she did a while enhance 13