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Pleurons sur nous, Francais, pleurons sur la patrie :
L'orgueil et l'intérêt divisent ses enfans.

Quel siècle en trahisons fut jamais plus fertile ?
L'amour du bien commun de tous les cœurs s'exile:
La timide amitié n'a plus d'épanchemens ;

On s'évite, on se craint; la foi n'a plus d'asile,

Et s'enfuit d'épouvante au bruit de nos sermens."

This elegy closes thus; the manner in which he alludes to the Bourbons will be noticed :

"Nous devons tous nos maux à ces divisions

Que nourrit notre intolérance.

Il est temps d'immoler au bonheur de la France
Cel orgueil ombrageux de nos opinions.
Etouffons le flambeau des guerres intestines.
Soldats, le ciel prononce, il relève les lis :
Adoptez les couleurs du héros de Bovines,
En donnant une larme aux drapeaux d'Austerlitz.
France, réveille-toi ! qu'un courroux unanime
Enfante des guerriers autour du souverain !
Divisés, désarmés, le vainqueur nous opprime;
Présentons-lui la paix, les armes à la main.

Et vous, peuples si fiers du trépas de nos braves,
Vous, les témoins de notre deuil,

Ne croyez pas, dans votre orgueil,

Que, pour être vaincus, les Français soient esclaves.
Gardez-vous d'irriter nos vengeurs à venir:
Peut-être que le Ciel, lassé de nous punir,

Seconderait notre courage;

Et qu'un autre Germanicus

Irait demander compte aux Germains d'un autre âge
De la défaite de Varus."

The second, "La Dévastation du Musée et des Monuments," from the character of its subject, does not possess any peculiar claim to our admiration. Truth lies at the foundation of all sympathy; and we have no emotions to lavish upon either poetry or prose, however elevated the diction or pure the verse, when we are encountered at every step by extravagance and exaggeration. If the policy of Napoleon's amassing the European treasures of art at Paris be maintained, the dismemberment of the collection by the allies was equally justifiable, and we regret to see the poet of France wasting his eloquence and his ardour in an attack upon one of the very few deeds of those leagued oppressors, that can be defended. From this poem, which is essentially false in sentiment, we shall not quote.

The third of these, " Messéniennes" "Du besoin de s'unir après le départ des étrangers," is, perhaps, the most eloquent of all. It commences with these lines:

"O Toi que l'univers adore,

O Toi que maudit l'univers,

Fortune, dont la main, du couchant a l'aurore,
Dispense les lauriers, les sceptres et les fers,
Ton aveugle courroux nous garde-t-il encore
Des triomphes et des revers?

Nos malheurs trop fameux proclament ta puissance;
Tes jeux furent sanglans dans notre belle France:
Le peuple mieux instruit, mais trop fier de ses droits,
Sur les debris du trône établit son empire,
Poussa la liberté jusqu'au mépris des lois,

Et la raison jusqu'au délire.

*

Empire malheureux, voilà donc ton destin !....
Français, ne dites plus : "La France nous est chère ;"
Elle désavourait votre amour inhumain.
Cessez, enfans ingrats, d'embrasser votre mère,
Pour vous étouffer dans son sein.

Contre ses ennemis tournez votre courage;
Au conseil des vainqueurs son sort est agité :
Ces rois qui l'encensaient, fiers de leur esclavage,
Vont lui vendre la liberté."

*

Qu'entends je, et d'où vient cette ivresse
Qui semble croître dans son cours?
Quels chants, quels transports d'allégresse!
Quel bruyant et nombreux concours!

De nos soldats la foule au loin se presse,

D'une nouvelle ardeur leurs yeux sont embrasés ;

Plus d'Anglais parini nous! Plus de joug! Plus d'entraves!

Levez plus fièrement vos fronts cicatrisés....

Oui, l'étranger s'éloigne; oui, vos fers sont brisés.

Soldats, vous n'êtes plus esclaves!

Reprends ton orgueil,

Ma noble patrie;

Quitte enfin ton deuil,

Liberté chérie ;

Liberté, patrie,

Sortez du cercueil !

Henri, divin Henri, toi qui fus grand et bon,
Qui chassas L'Espagnol et finis nos misères,
Les partis sont d'accord en prononçant ton nom;
Henri, de tes enfans fais un peuple de frères.
Ton image déjà semble nous protéger;
Tu renais; avec toi renaît l'indépendance:

O roi le plus Français dont s'honore la France,
Il est dans ton destin de voir fuir l'étranger!

Et toi, son digne fils, après vingt ans d'orage,
Regne sur des sujets par toi-même ennoblis.
Leurs droits sont consacrés dans ton plus bel ouvrage.
Oui, ce grand monument, affermi d'âge en âge,
Doit couvrir de son ombre et le peuple et les lis.
Il est des opprimés l'asyle impérissable,
La terreur du tyran, du ministre coupable,
Le temple de nos libertés.

Que la France prospère en tes mains magnanimes;
Que tes jours soient sereins, tes décrets respectés,
Toi, qui proclames ces maximes:

O rois, pour commander, obéissez aux lois;
Peuple, en obéissant, sois libre sous tes rois !

Desirous of giving a fair view of these poems, we have extracted at considerable length, and if the specimens have been well selected, it will be seen that their thoughts are bold, and their language commanding; that they possess considerable grace and great dignity, and that they are thoroughly imbued with that national tone, that devotion to the glory of France, which is at once the easiest and the surest mode of winning the affections of that singularly excitable people. Altogether, considering the age of their writer, they are uncommon productions. And now we have said all. They do not possess that original, and self-created energy, which is not borrowed from the feeling of the day, but which gives to the time its tone and temper; they have not that perfect simplicity, and that freedom from all artificial restraint, which defies the power of education and circumstance; which penetrates all ranks, contemning alike the rudeness and ignorance which hem in the lower classes, and the more impenetrable triplex as of habit and art and mode, which destroy the sympathies of the upper. They are French, it is true, but they are also classical, and that in its bad sense-they bear the marks of that devotion to former learning, and that affection for the "ancient paths," which, while it sometimes supplies with a happy allusion, or a pertinent quotation, more rarely has the effect of substituting imitation for originality, and weakness for vigour.

While we commend the purity of these poems, and approve of that tone which avoids all low personalities, we, perhaps, feel the want of that excitement of which the subject can, with difficulty, be deprived. Moderation and equanimity are ever desirable, but there are times when the fascinating abuse of the patriotic satirist, will perhaps command a larger audience, than the mild precepts of the unbiassed philosopher; and when

the universal agitation of the mass excuses, if it does not call for, the vehemence of the individual.

But in detracting at all from the merits of Delavigne, we are opposing the dictum of a single foreigner to the sentiment of an immense circle of his countrymen, who are able to explain discrepancies, reconcile inconsistencies, and remove all stumbling blocks from the path of their favourite, by that more intimate knowledge which we may scarcely hope to possess. With the classicists of France, and perhaps with a majority of their literary public, Delavigne ranks higher than Béranger. More correct in morals, and less faulty in style, he seems to us far inferior in power and originality. The terms in which they speak of him are not warranted by any of his works which have reached us. Nor do we consider it the dictate of modesty or impartiality to yield our judgment implicitly to that of the French critics, on all subjects connected either with their literature, or their politics. They are liable to be biassed by many causes which do not operate upon a foreigner.

Equally removed from the influence of the stormy passions which convulse their political, and the violent prejudices which agitate their reading world-equally aloof from the struggles of the "Extreme gauche," with the "Centre droit," and of the classicists with the romanticists, perhaps we can adjust the scale between Perrier and Lafayette, or Delavigne and Béranger, with a more equal hand than any one that throbs with all the conflicting emotions, fears and desires, which now beat with a fever-pulse, from one end to the other of that noble country.

There is also, it must be noticed, a peculiar tendency to exaggeration in behalf of those, who identifying themselves with the tone and temper of the day, acquire a reputation as universal as the feeling of which they are the representatives, and frequently as ephemeral. Of all the poets who, by these means, have commanded the attention and the applause of their contemporaries, how many are known to the nineteenth century? Where now shall we look for the fame of the satirists of the Fronde-where for the renown of Marvell and Quarles-of Chenier or Lebrun? The last echo of" Ca Ira" has died away, and even the national chorus of "God save the King,' may not fill the mouths and salute the ears of the next generation of that loyal born people, the English.* In our own country non

* Vid. Edin. Rev. No. 105, p. 239. "The people of England are naturally fond of kings and nobles; they are eminently a royalist and aristrocratic race. This in plainer English would be-the people of England are naturally fond of seeing others better off than themselves; they are eminently attached to tithes and taxes."-The Whigs and Radicals combined have won a comparatively easy victory over the Tories; the hardest and bitterest strife is yet to come; that between the Whigs and

est inventus must be returned to any search for the reputation of Freneau; and the more polished verses of Hopkinson, also celebrating the great themes of the last century, have fallen into almost equal disrepute with a wilful generation, more occupied in the discussion of Tariffs, Colonization and Temperance Societies. But forgotten though these defenders of human rights may be individually, in a succeeding age, it is not to be supposed that their influence has died away with their ephemeral reputation. Thought must ever reproduce thought; it is one of its great prerogatives that it can never be annihilated: that the thorns have no power to choke, nor the sun to scorch it; whether thrown on the way side or falling into stony places, or planted in good ground, it will ever bring forth fruit. Multitudes of writers and writings appear closely to resemble the fertilizing principle of the gardener and the agriculturist. They are absorbed into the surrounding world and disappear. They are reproduced, but under such different forms, that it is not easy to ascertain which they have forced into existence, or with what they are incorporated. Thus the Quarles of one century may again exist in the Tooke or the Cartwright of the next, and these again enrich the broad field of human intellect, which, in its time, brings forth a Bentham or a Mills. The forgotten satirists of Richelieu and Mazarin, are the predecessors of the La Harpes and Cheniers, and these again give place to the Delavignes and Bérangers. A perpetual reproduction is going on the great object is to advance the mental tillage, and make the crop of one age an improvement on that of the last. Woe to those slothful servants who shall retrograde or make no progress! These are the Polignacs and Wetherells-the advocates of corn laws, and-shame that such backward cultivators should be found in our virgin soil-with us, the abettors of American systems.

The poems of Delavigne are the most conspicuous manifestations of that public sentiment now dominant in France, and, as such, they are justly entitled to the admiration they enjoy; whether his reputation will survive the present stormy day, and float down the more tranquil current which awaits the French nation, when the period of uncertainty and of excitement shall have passed, may be considered very doubtful, when we remember the fate of so many of his predecessors.

The next poems of the same class with his first, which were published by Delavigne, are entitled "La Mort," and "La Vie de Jeanne D'Arc." They have no immediate connexion with

the Radicals; when this latter fray is over, it may be that we shall find some of our (foreign) Dagons prostrate on their faces.

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