This insidious proposal the Baron rejects with high-minded indignation; upon which he is taken back to the Donjon of Vincennes, and the Sieur Richard consents to go as his counterfeit. The sequel may be given in the words of Bonaparte, as reported by Mr. O'Meara. The subject of Baron Kolli and Ferdinand being one day introduced, Kolli,' said he, was discovered by the police, by his always drinking a bottle of the best wine, which so ill corresponded with his dress and apparent poverty, that it excited a suspicion among some of the spies, and he was arrested, searched, and his papers taken from him. A police agent was then dressed up, instructed to represent Kolli, and sent with the papers taken from him to Ferdinand, who, however, would not attempt to effect his escape, although he had no suspicion of the deceit passed upon him.' The reception which the pseudo-Baron met with is thus described by M. de Berthemy, the governor of Valençay. Richard having been introduced into the castle, placed himself in a gallery which led to the royal apartments. Deceived by a guilty conscience, Richard saw the Infant Don Antonio coming out he imagined that prince was the king, and shewed him some trifles. His royal highness examined them, and put some questions to him, about turnery work, listened with indulgence to his unconnected gossip, and perceiving an extraordinary confusion in the man, endeavoured to read through his dull countenance. His royal highness was about to retire, when the pretended merchant declared himself an envoy from the British government to effect his majesty's escape, and that he had letters of king George to deliver to his majesty... His royal highness cast a significant look at him, withdrew without paying the least attention to what he said, and immediately informed the king of the circumstance. His majesty sent his usher shortly after to complain of this audacity, and requested me to dismiss the wretch.' De Kolli was for four years imprisoned au secret at Vincennes; he was then transferred to Saumur, and the ominous order had been received for his being sent, under proper escort, with seven other state prisoners, to Fontainebleau, when the entry of the Allies into Paris occasioned his liberation. The narrative of his imprisonment, his escape and re-capture, and his subsequent adventures, is highly interesting, and forms the best apology for the publication. Its disclosures cartainly reflect no credit on the wisdom of his employers; but they place in a still stronger light, the unprincipled character of his persecutors, their meanness, shameless dishonesty, and sanguinary inclination. We have no room left to notice the Memoirs of the Queen of Etruria. They were addressed by the royal Authoress, to the Allied Powers, in 1814, in vindication of her own rights and those of her son, to the dutchy of Parma, Placentia, and Guestalla. They are brief and not uninteresting, though by no means deeply tragical. A characteristic sentence occurs in the early part of the narrative. -For some time we were obliged to have recourse to the nobility, who supplied us with chandeliers, plate, and other articles equally indispensible. This was the first time that the daughter of the king of Spain, accustomed to be served in gold and silver, saw herself obliged to eat off porcelain. p. 309. Art. VIII. Poetical Sketches: the Profession; the Broken Heart, &c. with Stanzas for Music, and other Poems. By Alaric A. Watts. f.cap 8vo. pp. 148. Price 6s. London. 1823. A CURIOUS circumstance is connected with one of the poems in this elegant little volume. On its first appearance, it was transcribed into several of our daily, weekly, and monthly journals, as the undoubted production of Lord Byron, although the Author had, it seems, inserted it in the Edinburgh Magazine with his name. The poem is as follows. · TO OCTAVIA. Full many a gloomy month hath past, Yet, 'mid that murkiness of lot, Young Peri, thou art unforgot! There are who love to trace the smile The dictates of the bosom break ;- Which dimmed my eye when last we met! • Sweet bud of Beauty!'Mid the thrill The anguished thrill of hope delayed,Peril and pain-and every ill That can the breast of man invade, No tender thought of thine and thee Hath faded from my memory; But I have dwelt on each dear form Till woe, awhile, gave place to gladness, And that remembrance seemed to charm, Almost to peace, my bosom's sadness;And now again I breathe a lay To hail thee on thy natal day! • O! might the fondest prayers prevail To save thee from affliction's tears! Thy guilelessness of soul revealing Beam ever thus, as beauteously, Undimmed-save by those gems of feelingThose soft, luxurious drops which flow, In pity, for another's woe. But vain the thought!-It may not be !-- Then, those who guard thine opening bloom Then since upon this earth, joy's beams That steal upon the mourner's slumber,; And Time with woman's zone hath bound thee, If, in the path thou 'rt doomed to tread, The thorns of sorrow lurk, and wound thee, Be thine that exquisite relief Which blossoms 'mid the springs of grief! And like the many-tinted Bow, Farewell!-Perchance a long farewell! Woes, Hope may vainly strive to quell,— So there be bliss for thee and THINE!' pp. 25-29. We think that there are poems of Lord Byron's, which the Author of these stanzas may justly be deemed capable of having composed; but it does not strike us that these are quite such as his Lordship would have written. Mr. Watts more frequently reminds his readers of Moore or Barry Cornwall. There is however, more of heart, though less of brilliancy in his lyrical poems, than in those of the former; while he displays more purity of taste and of sentiment, if less originality than the latter. He is evidently a warm admirer of our living bards, and has perhaps formed his taste too much upon these imperfect models. We would recommend him to dip nearer the fountain-head. The stanzas on the death of a nephew, might have been written, and might have assumed the present form, although Leigh Hunt had never addressed his exquisite stanzas to his child; yet, the general resemblance is almost too strong to be accidental. The Writer, however, stands quite clear of plagiarism, and the poem is of so interesting a character, that we are sure we cannot say any thing in favour of Mr. Watts's volume, that shall more powerfully recommend it to our readers, than the insertion of these stanzas. • TO THE MEMORY OF WILLIAM POWER WATTS. (AGED THREE YEARS.) 'A cloud is on my heart and brow,--- The tears are in my eyes, And wishes fond, all idle now, Are stifled into sighs; As musing on thine early doom, Thou bud of beauty snatched to bloom, I turn-thy painful struggle past— I think of all thy winning ways,' Thy arch sweet smiles,thy coy delays, Thy sparkling glance, and hasty run, • Where are they now ?-And where, oh where, The blooming cheek, so fresh and fair, • What hast thou 'scaped?-A thorny scene, Where many a blast of anguish keen What hast thou 'scaped ?-Life's weltering sea, Whilst yet its gliding waves were free And who could calmly think of this, - Nor 1 culled from home's beloved bowers, SoloThe brightest-hued, most fragrant flowers The rose-bud, emblem meet, was there, The violet blue, and jasmine fair, That, drooping, seemed to weep ; And, now, I add this lowlier spell; SWEETS TO THE PASSING SWEET! FAREWELL! We must make room for the following beautiful sonnet. THE FIRST BORN. Never did music sink into my soul So silver sweet,' as when thy first weak wail: |