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which were at that time the models of ascensus. Eandem tamen vestem viotaste in the school of Blair. They lentorum quorundam scinderant manus. thought they had caught the making iro qiondam lacte nutritus, nostris edu.

Tune es ille, ait, qui nosof a laureate in whose future odes,

catu: elementis, in virilis animi robur epodes, and epics, the world was to re

evaseras ? Atqui talia contuleramus cognize the forining hands of teachers,

arma qnæ nisi prins ahjecisses in victa as illustrious in their pupil's reflected

te firmitate tuerentur. Agnoscisne me? brilliancy as the pupil himself. Hence

Itaque ubi in eam deduxi came those uneasy efforts at genteel oculos intuitumque defixi, respicio nusatire, at tragedy, and at classic ode- tricem meam, in cujus ab adolescenwriting, in strophe and antistrophe, tia laribus versatus fueram, Pullosowhich appear among Burns' poems,

PUIAM." like so many fops among young country fellows at a game at football. Such

In like manner Poesy, in the person an incongruity we find in that band of of Coila, the local Muse of Ayr, breaks genii introduced by Coila in the “ Vi. in on the desponding solitude of Burns, sion." Coila, herself the local Muse, just as he is about to make the rash is stated by Burns to have been ima- vow of abjuring those pursuits which gined on the idea of Ross's Scotia ; had brought him so much intellectual but the introduction of such a being

and so little worldly reward. But how has from time immemorial been privi.

different the manner of their introduc. leged in the machinery of pieces of this

tion: the Roman, without more prekind. Probably the more immediate

face than the tears and groans of a hint for the details of Coila's appear

wounded spirit, all at once aware of ance-her wondrous robe, luminous

the presence of Philosophy standing by with seas and rivers, and shadowy with

his bed-head; the Scot, painting every waving woods and dusky mountains, thing ad unguem—the fatigue of his as well as for the tone of mingled re- body after a day's wielding of the buke and encouragement in which she

“thresher's weary flinging-tree"—the addresses the poet, was taken from

discomfort of the poor apartmentthe opening of Hector Boethius's the restless rats squeaking in the “ Consolations of Philosophy,” a work

thatch—the pungent smoke spewing of which several translations were then,

from the fire-place, till the atmosphere and still are, accessible to reading men

of the spense was all one “misty, throughout Scotland.

mottie clime”-and the succession of We will not spoil the “ eximia la

desponding thoughts and galling com. tinitas” of Boethius by attempting to

parisons between his own poverty and render his musical periods in our dis

insignificance and the purse-proud ease sonant English ; but we will afford the and consequence of the world's mi. reader, who possibly does not often

nions, till, in the bitterness of his spirit, look into the “ Consolations,” the he has heaved up his hand to swear the pleasure of weighing one or two of impious vowthose melodious sentences in his tune. ful ear:

When click ! the string the sneck did

draw, “ Hæc dum mecum tacitus ipse repu

And jee! the door gaed to the wa',

And by my ingle-lowe I saw, tarem querimoniamque lacrymabilem

Now blazing bright, styli officio designarem, astitisse mihi

A tight, outlandish hizzie braw supra verticem visa est mulier reverendi

Come full ic sight. admodum vultus, oculis ardentibus, et ultra communem hominum valentiam perspicacibus, colore vivido atqua inex. This is the Muse. The abruptness hausti vigoris.

Vestes of her entrance, and its agreement, in erant tenuissimis filis, subtili artficio,

all respects, with that of an ordinary indissolubilique materia perfectæ.

earthly visitant, strikes the reader, Quarum speciem veluti fumosas ima

perhaps, as inconsistent with the diggines solet caligo quædam neglecte vetustatis obduxerat. Harum in extrema

nity of the occasion. But consider

how such a mood of mind as Burns had margine il, in suprema vero legibatur intextum; atque inter utrasque

then fallen into lowers the standard of literas in scalarum modum gradus qui- every thing. He was about to abjure dam insigniti videbantur, quibus ab in- the dominion of mind, and swear alleferiori ad superius elementum esset giance to the world. He saw every

thing with his newly opened eyes of “ earth, earthly.” He saw the Muse, "a tight, outlandish hizzie,” with a taper leg, and he prepared to hail her with the coarse welcome of a selfconsulting earthly nature. But look again

with us." Burns asks for no classical recollections, no associations of learning: enough for him to have been blest with the happiness of feeling natureenough for him to have experienced the sweetness of love, the glow of patriotism, the aspirations after fame. No man whose breast has ever owned a spark of poetic feeling, can read this exposition of Burns' youthful raptures, without being thrilled to the soul with keen delight:

Green, slender, leaf-clad, holly boughs Were twisted gracefu'round her brows; I took her for some Scottish Muse

By that same token, And come to stop those reckless vows,

Would soon be broken.

Ye needna' doubt, I held my whisht
The infant aith, half-formed, was crusht.

With future hope I oft would gaze,
Fond, on thy little early ways;
Thy rudely-carolled chiming phrase,

In uncouth rhymes ;
Fired at the simple, artless lays

Of other times.

I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar, Or, when the North his fleecy store

Drove through the sky, I saw grim nature's visage hoar

Struck thy young eye.

And now it is plain that this is no vi.
sitant to be gazed at only through the
gross medium of sensuous admiration :
Her mantle large, of greenish hue,
My gazing wonder chiefly drew,
Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling,

A lustre grand,
And seemed to my astonished view

A well-known land.
Here rivers in the sea were lost,
Here mountains to the skies were tost;
There tumbling billows marked the coast

With surging foam ;
There, distant shone art's lofty boast,

The lordly dome.

Or, when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherished every flowret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth,

In every grove,
I saw thee eye the general mirth

With boundless love.

When ripened fields and azure skies
Called forth the reaper's rustling noise,
I saw thee leave their evening joys

And lonely stalk,
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

In pensive walk.

With musing, deep, astonished stare,
I viewed the heavenly seeming fair ;
A whisp'ring throb did witness bear

Of kindred sweet;
When, with an elder sister's air,

She did me greet.

When youthful love, warm-blushing,

strong, Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along, Those accents, grateful to the tongue,

The adored name,
I taught thee how to pour in song,

To soothe thy flame.

I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
Wild, send thee pleasure's devious way;
Misled by fancy's meteor-ray,

By passion driven ;
And yet the light that led astray

M'as light from heaven.

The Muse has come to rebuke her recreant son, to remind him of the dig. nity of his calling, of the rewards he has already obtained in the promotion of virtue, and the friendship and applause of the good, and of the exquisite delights of which his youthful. spirit had been made a partaker, through her means, when otherwise his soul would have hardened and grown callous to every purer enjoyment in the sordid routine of daily labour. This is a noble design, and full of the deepest philosophy; and we like the way in which Burns carries it out, even more than we do the ostentatiously didactic, though beautiful and true, sonnet to the same effect by Wordsworth: “ The world is too much

Vol. XXV.-No. 145.

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Preserve the dignity of man

sway the minds, and inflame to noble With soul erect,

aspirations the spirits and the souls of And trust, the universal plan

Whether from between the Will all protect.

stilts of the plough, or from behind

the weaver's beam, or from the desk Then never murmur nor repine;

of the poor mechanical clerk or school.

master – whoever feels the generous Strive in thine humble sphere to shine; And trust me, not Potosi's, mine,

emotion, and is conscious of the perNor king's regard,

ception of rhythmical barmony, and Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine

will suffer his thoughts, without fear A rustic bard.

or question, to clothe themselves in

whatever utterances they may find at In these delightful stanzas, rising hand, may send them forth with this and culminating as they proceed, un

fearless certainty, that if they fail to til, towards the conclusion, they attain

reach the hearts and souls of men, it a pitch of beauty as lofty, perhaps, as

is neither because he wants wealth, nor any other poet has ever risen to in station, nor influence, but because the English language, Burns rapidly either they want argument, for which sweeps away all the gloomy impres- his reasoning faculty must bear the sions made by his earlier reflections

blame, or harmony, for which his own the atmosphere grows clear around

ear is answerable, or vividness, of us—the walls of the spense spread and

which a weak imagination has been widen—the roof springs aloft-and,

the cause ; for if they be not defective when at last the Muse binds the holly

in these points, and have sincerity and round his beaming brows, we see be

fervour, they must succeed. There is fore us, instead of the weary and care

no common hall in the world where worn thresher, eaten up with indigence

such universal equality, in every thing and self-censure, the poet, conscious of

but song, is recognised, as in the court the dignity of his office, rich in the of Apollo. The highest seat here is rewards of enthusiasm, and radiant

occupied by the blind Ionian beggarwith the light of pride and joy,

princes and nobles content to sit im

easurably below_kingdoms and na** Etherial, flushed, and like a throbbing

tions proud, from generation to genestar,

ration, of having sent forth a single Seen through the sapphire heaven's deep

occupant of a place at his feet. Low repose!”

down, far below the feet of Homer,

and the feet of those who sit at Ho. Moments like these repay years of mer's feet, Burns has got his place ; anxiety and toil; sentiments like these but Scotland now would not, for milretrieve heaps of folly and piles of irre- lions of money, abandon her proud Minute criticism may quar

privilege of pointing to her son sitting rel with some inelegances of the ex

even there. pression, and an exacting logic may If, then, it need but this to be a discover some wants of complete se- poet, how comes it, you will say, that quence in the construction ; but the so few have been deemed worthy of ever-recurring, happy thought, brought the name, and that even in the rank directly home to the breast, in simple, occupied by Burns, he sits with a band manly language, cures every thing. of not more than two or three comThe perfection of eloquence is fer

panions ? Is it not, then, a simple vid thought in direct language ; of thing to be good?—and yet how few poetry, fervid thought in language attain to virtue !-a simple thing to be at once direct and harmonious. as little children ?-yet how few are The man who has heart and down. real followers of Christ! Truly, it rightness cannot fail to be eloquent. would appear that in the very simHe who has heart and downrightness, plicity of both lies that which makes and an harmonious ear, if he but deal both so very hard of attainment; for sincerely with himself, will sing sweetly society sits round a man, looking at and truly the songs that come home him on every side ; this may make him to the human breast. If to these be odious, that ridiculous ; whatever he added imagination and learning, he says or does out of the common, will will not only touch the hearts, but will be scrutinized by the rules of a jealous,




exacting, and form-serving system. quences of thought are to be found in To speak freely in the face of such an the whole round of lyrical literature audience, a man must be both single- than in the Melodies of Moore. No hearted and courageous — confident orator, with all the art of rhetoric, that what he says is for the pro- could build up a more perfect fabric motion of something good, and con- of thought than the Harp of Tara. scious, in his utterance of it, of no In the compass of two stanzas, it cowardly compromise with his own unites the demonstrative, the reflective, spirit; and to this he must add the and the illustrative elegancies of rhevividness of bold or beautiful imagery, toric, and brings all home to the breast the charm of melodious numbers, the of the reader with a combination and fruit of knowledge, and, above all, the completeness equal, in its way, to the form and sequence of just argument, peroration of a speech of Demosor he will be no poet. Poets there- thenes. In some other lyrics, too, fore are, and ever will be, few in num- not unworthy of Moore, which the ber, though the number of those who vehement agitation of the minds of possess some or other of the poetic fa- men during the last two years has culties be very great, and to all men called forth in The Nation newspaper, the field is open to run the glorious a fervour even more glowing than

Moore's own has been combined with Of the faculties requisite to suc- an alnıost equal eloquence and justness cess in poetry, that of just reason- of arrangement. In the great majority ing is the one most frequently found of the latter pieces, however, the prewanting ; but Burns in this had no valent fault of the older Irish effusions deficiency. His thoughts succeed is glaringly conspicuous, and in too one another in just and logical se- many of them the bloodthirstiness ries, in the midst of his most fervid sen- combines with the barbarism of 1641. timents and most vivid imaginations. Still, some of them are finer than any Reasoning on the social anomalies thing in the same style since Campwhich he bravely protests against, you bell; and the prospect of our at length find his views distinguished by strong seeing an Irish bard equal to those mother-wit, and brought home by un- who sustain the lyrical honours of the impeachable arguments. This is the sister country grows clearer and nearer faculty which we would wish to see in their lustre. chiefly cultivated among those on whom If any, either of these or of the other the furnishing of a future poet for this gifted youth of Ireland, feel the strength country will probably be cast—the and sincerity that is needed for the middle classes of the Irish. Judging attempt, let them not be frightened from the specimens of native song and back by the terrorism of Swift and the satire, of which we are acquainted satirists. We have seen Robert Burns, with a great abundance, weincline to be- the example generally selected of all lieve this the main desideratum. There that is most calculated to deter genius certainly is no want of fervid feeling, from the pursuit of poetic fame, happor of musical or rythmical perception. pier in the little smoky spense of MossNeither courage nor sincerity are de- giel than God suffers most mortals to be ficient. But imagination halts-pro- in the world's loftiest stations. We shall bably for want of knowledge-and the pursue the subject to the end, and just sequence of thought is not there. hope to show the ingenuous young Therefore, these pieces generally want men on whom we depend in our ef. variety and intellectual force. We forts for the literary advancement and speak now of the native remains in renown of the country, that even in the Irish language; but if we extend Burns' days of deepest degradation, it our observations to those beautiful and was not his genius that brought the spirited effusions, in which the same misery, that ought to bear the blame, mind has expressed itself in English, or that should now deter others from we perceive a great and most cheering emulating his unaffected and manly difference. Probably no more just se- strains.




And if religious tenderness of heart,
Grieving for sin, and penitential tears
Shed when the clouds had gathered, and distained
The spotless ether of a maiden life;
If there may make a hallowed spot of earth
More holy in the sight of God or man ;
Then o'er that dome a sanctity shall brood
Till the stars sicken at the day of doom.


Oh ! maid, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
My bosom is proud as thy own!

Madeleine Dillon O'Moore, (for Carleton had not forsaken his first love,) had not knelt for one agitated minute—the beating of her heart was not still, nor had her quivering lips yet acquired the mastery of speech, when, with a faint sound, the door of a small aperture was withdrawn, and, separated still by a grating, the austere visage of the confessor became visible, almost touching the face of the young penitent, and exhibiting a character of grave, passionless attention. What a subject for a picture, if the painter's art could describe it !- the two countenances that then met together. One, upon which every passion, every attainable enjoyment, and almost every endurable sorrow, had left a witness of its presence—and over which penances almost commensurate,

were human satisfaction possible, to the sins for which they were to satisfy, had drawn the semblance of an enforced composure; this, seen through the little wicket bars, in a dim recess, enlightened, one might say, by the lustre of eyes, on which mortification had exercised its power in vain ;-the other, marked by agitation which had never before been experienced—a counte. nance framed for gentle joys, and which it would be hardly too much to say, felicity itself had fashioned-a face, whose serene and joyous character, care, or disappointment, or grief had never clouded-and which, now, in the first an:guish of a young life, received, and manifested in its coinplex expression, notices of all that the

heart which looked through it was capable of experiencing. In the face of the priest were the traces of a stormy life past, and of the rigid repose which waited on the season of its decline ; in the maiden's, there was the prophecy of a troubled life to come-it seemed as if retaining the last looks of happy girlhood, and suffering to mingle with them notices of coming disaster and passion, and of the struggles in which virtuous principles triumph.

There was a pause of silence while the lady strove for power to speakand the confessor, who saw the effort she made, waited until it was successful. At length, she spoke, faintly indeed—but with the distinctness which, whether the intonation be rapid or slow, often characterises profound emotion. " Pardon, father," she said, “ I do not come to you to confess, I come for counsel-rebuke-and, oh, for protection."

The wise ecclesiastic saw that this case was to be no ordinary and formal interchange of confession and absolution; and he, at once, adapted himself to the emergency.

Without expostulating against the irregularity with which the young penitent addressed him, or using any expression which might disturb the connection of her thoughts or feelings, he paused for a moment after she had ceased, and find. ing her silence continue, he said, in a manner to invite further confidence

“Proceed, my daughter—from wbat do you desire protection ?"

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