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The Portrait.


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THB PORTRAIT.-By Oehlenschlager. | large room up stairs, whose walls are

quite covered with pictures of every Frederic and Lewis had long been description, but particularly with pormost intimate friends, and as they traits of saints and héroes. I amused were almost inseparable, they became myself for a considerable time with at the same time acquainted with looking at them, and I came at last to Laura, who esteemed them both, but one whose face was turned towards could only love one. Lewis was the the wall; I placed it in the proper happy man, and Frederic might per- manner, and found it to be the porhaps have reasoned himself into re-trait of a very handsome young man signation, had he not unfortunately in modern attire. In order to judge a met with one of those bravos, who little better of the artist's skill, I fancy they show their own courage by walked a few yards backwards, and it making others act with spirit, as they then appeared to me as if I met with are pleased to call it. Such a one the most horrible glance which could had of late been courting an intimacy possibly be expressed by a human with the irritated young man, and eye; and the more I looked, the more under existing circumstances he found I felt affected and terrified, so much no great difficulty in making him be- so, that I at last actually resolved to lieve, that insult had been added to hide it again from my view. perfidy, and that, according to the proaching, I found it however less laws of honour, nothing but blood frightful, and easily persuaded mycould wash off the stain; he worked self, that the effect proceeded only in this manner on the passions of his from my imagination. I began then. victim, until he obtained at last a quietly to undress; when, just at the challenge. The fortunate lover saw momont I intended to lie down, and these things of course in a very diffe- to extinguish the candle, the portrait rent light; and his present frame of caught my sight once more, and seemmind, as well as the remembrance of ed to threaten me with the most furiformer times, made him equally loth ous expression of revenge. My heart to draw his sword: but he too was beat audibly, as if I had committed a soon surrounded by pretended friends, crime. I could not account for my who made it their business to set him feelings, and 'yet I was unable to bear on, and he was urged to fight against them; in short, to my shame be it his inclination. Frederic fell; the spoken, my mind was so agitated, that blood gushed violently out of a deep I could not recover the proper use of wound, and Lewis hastened to his my senses, until I had removed the

but his quondam friend picture out of the room, and had had only just strength enough to give bolted the door behind it. When the him a look of the most heart-rending waiter came in the morning to bring reproach, and, after a few convulsive me my breakfast, he laughed heartily motions, he was to all appearance a at my fright, but told me also, to my lifeless corpse: the bystanders put comfort, that I was not the first to the victor on the horse which had been whom something of the kind had hapkept in readiness, and he disappeared pened, and that this was the very in an instant. In the mean time, the reason why I had found the wrong wounded man recovered, and being side of the picture exhibited. I quesmade sensible of the terrible state in tioned him as to the manner in which which his late antagonist must now his master bad come hy it; but he find himself, he endeavoured to inform seemed to attach much importance to him, by all the means in his power, of the secret, as I could not get any his true condition.

thing out of him. Three years bad however already Frederic, sitting in a dark corner of elapsed, since the catastrophe, when the room, had listened with great atFrederic, travelling at a considerable tention

to this story, and, as he had distance from home, was struck one likewise to pass through the forest, he evening, with a gentleman's account made it a point to stop at the same to the landlord, of what had happened inn. He arrived there towards evento him during the preceding night. ing ; but what was his astonishment, He said, I put up at the lonely inn, when the man who opened the door which depends from the convent in became pale as death, on looking at the forest, and was shown into the his face, and dropping the candle, he ran


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Poetry: The Tempest Stilled.

612 away in the utmost consternation: he | their mutual satisfaction, as Frederic endeavoured to follow in the dark, had seized the very first moment of and arrived at last in the traveller's comparative tranquillity, to relate the room, but found it deserted; he seiz- present situation of affairs: he was ed a lighted taper, and went up stairs already married to a younger sister without interruption. He pursued his of Laura, and she herself had reway to the saloon in question, and mained faithful to her first lover, and there he found—what he had, during had never ceased to pray for his rethe last moments, in some measure turn. Even father Boniface finished expected-his own portrait; but re- with blessing the happy change, bepresented in such a manner, that he cause, proud as he was upon the shuddered with horror at the dreadful master pieces with which his convent sight, and had hardly the courage to had been already enriched, he yet regard it a second time.

felt that still more might be expected He was at no loss as to the painter; for the future, and that this would because Lewis had from his infancy be more particularly the case with the shown a great talent for the art, and grand representation of the day of it was but natural, that he should have judgment, in which the damned were found a melancholy solace in eterniz- indeed drawn with terrible and inimiing the cause of his misery. Fre- table effect, but where the blessed derio was absorbed in these con- were still wanting: the artist had templations, when he heard, a noise often attempted to sketch them, but upon the staircase, as a great num- he had never been able to satisfy himber of people were mounting, and on self with the outline, and it had been turning round he perceived the most as often effaced as planned. singular procession that could be imagined. A fat monk led the van, with a pot of holy water in one hand, and

Poetry. a large censer in the other; the land

THE TEMPEST STILLED. lord followed with a rusty old sword, the waiter brandished a boot-jack, and

Mark iv. 37-39. the hostler held a pitchfork, whilst The waves tossed high, the winds roared lond, the landlady, bringing up the rear, The shattered rigging auswered every blast ; had armed herself and servants with The lightning from the thunder-cloud brooms and flails.

With fiery vigoar darted past.

“ Master!" the scared disciples cried, The whole fell back as Frederic

“Dost thou not care we perish in the lake? offered to face them, but the monk “ Our vessel with the foaming tide took hold of the railing, and exclaimed “ Is fillid-we sink! awake, awake ?" --Earthly weapons are here of no avail, Jesus arose-forsook his sleep, master Peter, we must contend in a And thus the warring elements addrest:spiritual manner: and thereupon he

“ Peace! howling winds; and angry deep! began to throw the water about with Let quiet calm thy furious breast. considerable dexterity himself, whilst The gales were hush'd, and all was quite

Instant the frighted waves were stilled, he directed his companion how to serene; proceed with the censer. It lasted a As erst, when thro' wild chaos thrilled good while before a negociation could His voice, so now was changed the scene. be set on foot; but as soon as the The glad disciples, filled with joy, master of the house understood, that As when a sleeper, vext with visions dire, the stranger wanted a supper and had Wakes and discovers no annoygot wherewith to pay, bis fear left Springs into life when near to expire, him at once, and he set about his busi- At length the land smiles sweetly on their ness. The priest however was not so sight; quickly appeased; he declared, that They quit the lake of Galilee the painter confessed to have murder- / In wonder at their Master's might. , ed the man whom the picture repre- So, in his bark, when tempests lowr, sented, and no sophistry should con- The mariner on life's uncertain sea vince him this was not his spirit. In | Is rescued in the stormy hoor, the mean time Lewis had been sent for, How can his bark be cast away? and farther explanations became as How can the waves prevail

, if it contain easy as the result was pleasing. Him whom the wind and sea obey, The two friends had so mueh the Whose voice can calm the raging

main ? less trouble in adjusting things tol, Liverpool

J. M. G.


Poetry:-Goliath of Gath.Uncertainties.-Man.



end :


The stone, like a thunderbolt, strack the swift GOLIATH OF GATH.

blow, 1 Sam. xvii.

And the monster reeld forward, a fall’n, help

less foe; On the mountain the Philistine camped in his He was levell’d as Dagon in front of the ark, pride,

And his boastings were gone like the sheen of With his banners and legions of war was des- a spark.

cried; The flower of his youth, and the sons of his Up! Israel, and follow the flying foes' path, care,

Parsue to the turrets of Ekron and Gath; And the strength of his kingdom, his nobles, Let your falchions be strong! for the host of were there;

the Lord Bat the boast of his warriors, Goliath, of Gath, Still baffles the godless idolator's sword; Was his champion, come forth in dire enmity's For your enemies' boast in his pride is laid low, wrath.

And his head sever'd off with his own wea

pon's blow. Goliath stalked forward, nine feet and a span


J. M. G. Was the height of his form, more of demon

than man : With a high brażen helm, and a buge coat of

UNCERTAINTIES. mail, He stood like a pillar of brass in the vale,

WHEN storms cloud the deep, and loud Boreas Which lay 'twixt the armies prepared for the is roaring, fight

When the white waves resound 'gainst the Proud Philistia's sons, and the armed Israelite.

surge-beaten shore, With his mighty spear grasp?d, and with load When mariners heaven's kind aid are imploring, lofty boasts,

Then 'tis uncertain---whether home's joys

they'll taste more. He presumptaously challenged the Israelite hosts

When the wanderer benighted, 'midst desarts To produce him a foeman with whom to con

a ranger,

Where perils unseen his lone footsteps await; That by one single combat the battle might When despair fills the breast of the lost way

worn stranger, Forty days he came forward, with haughtiness Then 'tis uncertainm-how soon cold death is

his fate. Forty days, unaccepted his challenge, retired.

When the clarion of war, through the land has The armies were now set in battle array,

resounded, And the spear and the falchion were seized for And the youth leaves his cot, Valoar's laurels

to earn; The backler 'was fix’d, while the shrill trampet When in battle's růde clangor, he falls sorely blew,

wounded, And the chariot steed prano'd with the foe in Then 'tis uncertain-whether again he'll re

turn. When a herald, advancing towards Philistia, When madness usurps the fair region of learn“The combat's accepted : Goliath's defied.”.

And insanity's fires rage wild in the brain; Each army stood silent: Goliath came down

When phrenzy's dire tortures in life's seat are From the mount to the valley with ire in bis Then "tis uncertainmwhen Reason's calm

burning, And there came forth to meet himno fierce

ness will reign.

When care-teeming sickness, pale anguishing Whose prowess was written in many a scar,

sorrow, But a ruddy-fac'd youth, with no arms save a And death's filmy harbinger dim the bright sling,

eyes; And a staff, and some stones at the foeman to When the lingering mortal sad sighs for the

Ah! 'tis uncertain—whether for him it will The giant advanc’d, and he brandish'd his spear, rise. And he scoff’d at the youth of so mean a com- Norwick, Feb. 2, 1821. RICARDUS. And he boasted he'd give to the vulture and The vile carcase that thus dar'd to menace

ON MAN. But the youth still approach'd him untainted What is Man?—while here he lives, by fear,

To-day he's merry, and to-morrow grieves. For his confidence trusted nor buckler nor spear. To-day the scenes of human life

Exhibit happiness, to-morrow strife.
He ran-slang a stone, and it whizz'd thro' To-day he wonders at some foe's advance,

Or at the ocean's vast expanise;
And the giant's broad brow. by his casque was

the fray;

his view,




man of war,






bim so;

And like the Bee, to-day he roves,
By turns the garden, and the verdant groves;

the air,

left bare,

615 Poetry:-Sonnet. To a Young Lady.-A Poeń. 616 Now be wanders o'er the plains,

To drlve pale want and misery from the door, Now attends to musio's strains,

Where wealth of mind has left the body poor: And still be gathers as he goes,

Here, parties no conflicting passions bring, From the worinwood and the rose.

For pity's altar is a sacred thing!! Which ever way he turns to range,

Where angry feelings that mankind divide, The scenes of life still constant change; Charm'd by the seraph Charity, subside; At every change there's something new, And men, who differ in the world, agree Astonishes his narrow view.

In thy bless'd cause, divine buinanity! Experience teaches him that bad and good,

Purer the good you never can impart, Folow each other down the flood."

Than to bring comfort to the sick at heart, Thus from the cradle to the grave,

Where talents, long neglected, droop the head, Impetuous rolls life's devious wave;

And slighted science toils for scanty bread : But when he once has past its shore,

Though heavy burdens press the labouring poor, The scenes of life shall change no more.

Far greater wants the letter'd world endure !
H. D. Wants, that avoid the glaring eye of day,

And, in the closet, on the vitals prey ;.

For lofty minds endure the keenest pain,

Ere pride permits the victim to complain ;
On the much lamented Death of WILLIAM Cow. Scorning to ask relief, he seeks the gloom

PER, Esq. Author of the TASK, whose chaste That leads to frenzy, or an early tomb ! and elegant production will ever be entitled to

Dear is the child that milks the mother's our admiration, while sublimity, imagination, and pathos, are regarded as the characteristic so dear is pity to the heart oppress'd!

breast! ornaments of poetic composition.

But when such pity to the scholar's given, By hands unseen, to shield his earthly bed, 'Tis MANNA dropping from the stores of (Where weeping virtues o'er his cold turf bend, heaven! Ànd mourn the early doom of their lov'd friend,) And, like that succour from the ETERNAL Shall sweetest flow'rs of earliest bloom be THRONE, spread.

The blessing doubles, when the band's anThere shall the village maids and youths repair; known! There shall the kindred soul that loves to grieve,

Some have advanced opinions, that would dry Still linger o'er his sylvan grove at eve, And weep his fate. The redbreast here shall That learning wants no patron to succeed,

The source of all your generous sympathy; bare

And works of genius always find their meed The boary moss, and flow'rs to deck the clay, That shields from mould’ring dews the Poet's Did Milton reap the harvest of his pen?

Delusive thought!-unworthy liberal men ! breast, While pensive wand'ring thro' the moss-grown Or wealth reward the loyal Butler's lays?

Did smiling comfort bless poor Otway's days ? way

His king, who humour lov'd, and relish'd wit, At eve,

the kindred Muse, in sable drest, Breathes her sad dirges o'er his lifeless clay,

With pleasure quoted every line he writ,

And while gay courtiers fill'd the sparkling And hymns, with sainted voice, his soul to rest.


Still was their mirth the wit of Hudibras !

All own'd his pen had serv'd the royal cause

When the sword fail'd to vindicate the laws; THERE's something awful in the word Adieu,

Yet Butler found, too oft the Poet's lot! When breath'd to those we love so true ;

His verse remember'd, but himself forgot; And this sad task must soon be mine,

And while fame cull'd a chaplet for his head,
I wish it were not also thine.

His country's gratitude debied him bread.
Yet there's a hope, a chance above,
That we may meet again, my love.

That modern Genius gains both wealth and
Blow soft, ye winds, and howl no more,

praise, But waft my friend to this safe shore;

We sometimes see, with pleasure, in our days; Where once again we may unite,

Such authors well deserve a laurel crown, In that soft peace and calm delight

Who owe their riches to their own renown; Which virtue feels, and guilt can never know, 'Gainst them no adverse Fortune can prevail, To peace a stranger, and to rest a foe.

Whose best Mæcenas is the publie sale :

E. BOURROUS. But let not their success your aid restrain;
Nottingham, July, 1820.

Wide is the cavern of distress and pain !
Where cold and gloomy many an author lies,

Distracted with his starving children's cries;

And sees the partner of his wretched hour For the 25th Anniversary of the Literary Fund, Droop by his side the type of some fair at Freemason's Hall, May 10, 1821.

Written Nipp'd in the Spring by unexpected frost, and recited by William Thomas Fitzgerald, Its beauty faded, and its odour lost! Esq.

While he, in bitter tears, completes the page Thts Board presents, to Contemplation's view, Destined to benefit a thankless age,

The Feast of Reason" and of Virtue too! Hope dies within him like the last faint ray Where mirth prevails, unsullied by excess, That slowly lingers on expiring dayAnd pleasure's object is the power to bless! But not one gleam of comfort can impart Where all assemble for the noblest end- To cheer the night that blackens round bis Genias, depress'd by Fortune, to befriend;


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Reflections on Deism.



his care;

Such are the objects, whom we wish to save When boundless Commerce shall new treaFrom misery's last retreat-a timeless grave. sures yield, These to relieve the Royal Bounty flows, And the Loom prosper with the abundant field! In streams perennial, to assuage their woes. While the Fourth GEORGE, as wide as his Here Truth, and Justice, prompt the Muse to domain, bring

Extends the blessings of his Father's reign; Praise to our PATRON*_Homage to our King! His sceptre honour'd, as his sword was fear'd; Whose feeling heart has always wish'd to dry In war triumphant! and in peace rever'd! The secret tear, that dims misfortune's eye; Who, with a polish'd taste, and liberal hand,

* His Majesty, who is Patron of the Society, Spreads wide improvements through his native has for many years given £200 to the Literary

Fund, on the Anniversary.
And, like Augustus, who embellish'd Rome,
Makes Grecian arts bis denizens at home.

Where uncouth buildings met the public eyes,
Long spacious streets, and palaces, arise ;
And Thames may soon behold, with conscious AMONG the various objections which

Deism has urged against Christianity, Another Athens rising on his side!

none has appeared to me more entirely Arts cannot droop, nor Sciences despair, destitute of foundation, than, that the When England's MONARCH makes their cause

idea of the Deity which it presents is Nor Genius pine neglected, and alone,

unworthy of him. Her all-accomplished PATRON on the throne ! The Bible declares the Almighty to

be omniscient, omnipresent, wise, HIBERNIA'S Bards who, oft in plaintive just, and merciful, the source of hap

strain, Hare charm'd the breast from every sense of piness, of truth, and of life; this then

is a character not unworthy of the Will strike the Harp, and loadest Pæans sing, Governor of the universe. The docTo bail, on-Irish ground, a BRITISH KING! trine of the omnipresence of God, Erin has never yet a Monarch seen, alone, affords a strong presumption Who did not stain with blood her native green; of the truth of Christianity; for how She never saw her Kings but stern in arms, Within her bosom spreading dire alarms!

was it possible, for a finite mind to They came without one blessing in their hand; conceive the idea of a Being unconTheir swords, and not their sceptres, ruld the fined by space, whose essence pene

trates the utmost boundary of creaAnd nothing mark’d their presence, or their tion, if indeed creation has a boun

reigns, But burning villages, and ravag'd plains !

dary; to whom the past and future are Their iron laws were grafted on their fears,

one eternal present; who controls the And all they left the peasant were his tears!

motion of worlds; whose will is the L’en great Elizabeth, at home ador'd!

sole cause of all existence; and whose Was only known to Erin by her sword; She sent no harbinger of grace and love:

being has neither commencement, nor But hungry vultures for the peaceful dove.

termination ? His beneficence has How different now-when every heart and animated matter with life. Unceas

ingly active, it accompanies the exerWill hail their Sovereign to Hibernia's land! cise of his power, and produces hapGrateful for all that GEORGE The Good had piness. Its operation is illimitable, The debt they owed the Sire, they'll pay the nution or decay. In the endless con

and its perfection admits not of dimiOar Sister Isle, that never saw before

nections and dependencies he has One King of England welcome on her shore, established, there is no disorder or Will greet her Monarch with that loyal zeal, Which Erin's gallant sons so deeply feel :

confusion, all is unvarying regularity, Of honour jealous, none so soon extend

for wisdom and omnipotence have The ready hand, to reconcile a friend;

linked the chain which binds the No secret enmity they ever know,

whole together. Such is a faint outWarm in their friendship--manly to their foe! line of the idea presented by the ScripAnd, as their gen'rous bosoms scorn all art, tures, of the Supreme Being. Is this The King they love they'll throne upon the then, I would ask, the picture of an

imperfect, an inconsistent, or, as some Your Bard, who many a year prophetic have even dared to assert, of a capriprov'd,

cious and cruel Being? Assuredly And dwelt with ardoar, on the themes he lov'd, not; it comprehends every excellence Would wish his country's blessings to re- which the human mind can conceive, As once her triumphs--in his patriot verse!

exalted to infinity. With the intelAgain he ventures to foretell the day,

lectual faculties unimpaired, and the When present ills will pass, like mists, away; heart undepraved, man must believo No. 29. VOL. III.

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