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naturally separated by a chain of the the Spanish go before : the Frenchman, highest mountains, one situated to the in order to make a sign to any one to north-east, the other to the south-west; come to him, raises his hand and brings Spain, hot and dry; France, cold, and it towards his face; the Spaniard, for watered by many rivers ; one rarely sub- the same object, lowers his, and motions ject to storms, the other continually it towards his feet: the Frenchman agitated by them; the first so little re kisses a lady on saluting her, the Spafreshed by the rains of heaven, the se niard looks on such a liberty with horcond so subject to their excess ;-we ror : the Frenchman esteems the favours shall not be astonished that countries of his mistress in proportion as they are so different should produce men so dis- known, at least by his friends; the Spasimilar. Thus all who have spoken of niard values nothing like secresy in love. the manners of the two nations have The Frenchman reasons but on the preever represented the French changeable sent, the Spaniard on the past ; the as the heavens, and light as the winds French ask alms with a thousand subwhich rule them: the Spaniards con missions of words and gestures, the Spastant as their sky and their seasons. niards without meanness, and sometimes The Frenchman cold and moist as his even with pride. The Frenchman wears soil, from whence comes his fair com his clothes of one fashion and the Spaplexion ; the Spaniard warm and dry as niard of another, which, taken from his, that which bronzes his skin. The head to foot, are totally unlike. The French gay, frank, hospitable; religious first puts on his doublet after all the without hypocrisy, and polished without rest, the second commences to dress affectation ; but irivial, whimsical, great himself by that ; the Frenchman buttalkers, despising their countrymen tons himself from the collar to the waist, when abroad; fit for the cavalry, but the Spaniard begins at the bottom and supporting ill the privations of war, in finishes at the chin ; the Frenchman which they are more distinguished by throws off his doublet to fight a duel, boldness and rapidity, than by artifice the Spaniard puts on, when he can, a or counsel. The Spaniards, on the con- coat-of-mail. The Frenchman frightens trary, deceitful, melancholy, inhospit- his children at the name of a Spaniard, able, jealous, vindictive, avaricious, as at that of a nonster; the Spaniard superstitious to excess, but constant, considers the French as pitiful as the thoughtful, and taciturn; valuing each Aguadores of Madrid, and believes them other when distant from home; good born to be the mockery of the world. for the infantry, patient of hunger, thirst, The Frenchman, forced to approve of and fatigue; making war more by stra- the wine, the horses, the gloves, and tagem than by open force, and execut- the fire-arms of Spain, adds, that noing more from the head than by the thing is good there but that which canhand.

not speak; the Spaniard forced to live Taking for granted the justice of these on the corn of France, and to use its respective characters (absurdly unfair to salt, linen, and cordage, says that it is the Spaniards as we know them to be), merely because he disdains to cultivate we must acknowledge that the sum the earth, and to labour at mechanical ming up is droll enough. · In fact, arts. The Frenchman, reduced to want, the Frenchman is tall, the Spaniard sells every thing but his shirt ; it is the short; the one has the skin generally first article that the Spaniard disposes of, fair, the other dark; the one wears lony keeping his cloak and his sword till the hair, the other short ; the Frenchman last extremity.” eats much and quickly, the Spaniard This is pleasant, but about as rational sparingly and slow; the Frenchman and as inuch to the purpose as were the serves the boiled meat first, the Spaniard distinctions between the Big and Littlethe roast; the Frenchman pours the endians. But looking at the subject in water on the wine, the Spaniard the its more serious aspects, we cannot avoid wine on the water; the Frenchman seeing the remarkable contrasts in the speaks freely at table, the Spaniard does progress of these nations, as well as in not say a word; the Frenchman walks the manners of the people. Contemafter dinner, the Spaniard sits still ; that plating the progressive greatness, and is, if he does not sleep. The French- ihe at one time overwhelming power inan, whether on foot or horseback, of France; and then turning to the ragoes fast through the streets, the Spa- pid and complete decline of Spain; we niard always goes leisurely: the French must seek for some cause more reasonlacqueys always follow their masters, able than temperature of climate, or in

dividual antipathies, to account for the boasted to have destroyed in six years change. When Charles the Fifth, re- 18,000 men by the hands of the executiring to a cloister, placed his crown on tioners, he forgot that he drove Holland the head of a bigot, he it was that struck into heresy and happiness at the same the death-blow to his country's great time. To this day Flanders had been ness, and traced the path for her decay. possessed by Spain, if, in the blindness Persecution has ever been the bar to of her bigotry, she had not, to revenge Spanish prosperity, and bigotry her the destruction of some images by the bane. All the glories of Ferdinand and Reformists, sacrificed, without distincIsabella were tarnished by their perse- tion of sex or age, thousands of the livcutions: eight hundred thousand Jews ing images of the God, whom she dared expelled the country — nine hundred to say was honoured by the deed. What thousand Moors driven from the fields now remains of the foreign greatness of their fathers; and the terror excited and foreign wealth of Spain? and what by these acts were surer means for the is Spain herself? An infant in the cradle depopulation of Spain than wars and after ages of non-entity! But, regenerate pestilence combined; for even after bat- and pure, her attitude is noble. With tle or disease, still hope remains to raise one hand she is strangling superstition, new worlds upon the desolation ; but and with the other revenge; horrible when religion takes the sword, and su- monsters ! the first the parent of revoperstition exhales her breath of fame, lutions; the second their disgrace.despair has lighted on the land. It was Let her but succeed in destroying these the boast of Spain in her greatness—for fiends, and then, for the establishment even after this she became great-that of her fame, for the honour of her nashe had never admitted heresy upon her tional, natural character which is worshores, nor allied herself with heretics; thy of honour-then let her throw open that the extent of her dominions was her gates to the free entrance of relithe recompense of her zeal ; and that gion, come in what garb it may, wheHeaven had given her the right to fat- ther in the pomp of Romish magnificence ten on the riches of the Indies, in grati- or in the poverty of pauperism ; investtude for her having been the first to ed with splendour, or stripped of show; carry there the mysteries of the faith. whether scattering incense to the skies, The Inquisition was established; and or sending up its silent adorationsher infamy became complete when tor- where faith is, let form be disregarded, ture came in to the aid of hypocrisy. and then may Spain look forward to that Leagued with Mahomedans and idó- harvest of renown, which grows not in laters in Africa and Asia, when gain led the land that intolerance covers with its to the alliance, she stigmatized the trea- envenomed foliage. ties of France with Sweden and Holland She has started grandly in her new as an impious union; and she fomented career. Never did a nation present a in England every inclination of rebel. spectacle more sublime. Bursting her lion. Avarice, inhumanity, and pride, chains by philosophical, not physical, were her principles of action, and the force — calling out for freedom with pretence of religion the cloak for all. steadiness, not clamour-holding forth * Never is human nature so debased as the record of her constitution instead of when superstitious ignorance is armed a proscription list-moving onward. towith power."* Such was the case in wards her destiny, calmly, bloodless, Spain at home, and Christianity was the and determined ! Let but her progress title of the vilest profanations abroad. be proportioned to this beginning-let The massacres of the East, the prodigi- her but march in wisdom, in vigour, ous horrors of Peru, went hand in hand and in moderation ; and nothing can opwith domestic misrule ; and the Low pose the consummation of that glory Countries afforded a fresh example of the which will shine round Revolutionary atrocious policy which treads on the Spain as the contrast of Revolutionary steps of intolerance. But when Alva France; as the boast of our tiine, and

- the model of that which is to come. * Voltaire, Essai sur les Mæurs et l’Esprit des Nations.

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INTELLIGIBLE ODES, CHEERFUL ELEGIES, GAY SONNETS,

AND TÅLES 'op NO WONDER: 1 2906 19 7OvšW. "L'1 1151816 Virginibus Puerisque CantosHora uoto ylindi FT

MARRIAGE. SIMilensir, I grant whenever you come in, 46...,.-'t Have you not seen how down the stream "Tis all confusion; fright, and din, The heaviest harge is drawn with ease,

« Till some one bolder than the rest ** Provided that the docile team' i

Lays at their feet the common pest; Will draw just as the drivers please.''

And thus your consequence, you see, 'Isy Smooth is the path, the burden light:

Is death to you; whilst to poor me, B.: But should one Horse pull t'other way,

My insignificance commends
The rest in anger and affright

A quiet life and easy friends.
Would plunge and kick, as well they may.
In marriage it is just the same,

A MODERN PHILOSOPHER CONFUTED.
Pulling one way is all the art,
The state itself we should not blame Whilst Fretful declares that he knows tery
If John and Mary tug apart.

well That there are no such things as a devil or

hell,

By daily tormenting his children and wife Let pedants in huge folios dig,

He makes his whole family tir'd of life.., 4 And with their self-importance big, Of freedom so fond, this imperious elf Expect the world's applause ;

Is determin'd to keep it all snug for himself : Alas! the only meed they share

Who can doubt, whilst he aims all his betters Are restless nights and daily care,

to level, And pale and lanthorn jaws.

That his is a hell, and himself is the devil ?
Be mine the wiser student's ease,
To read alone those books that please,
And shun the midnight lamp ;

POOR JACK'S CASE.
Full well I know that ceaseless toil
13. Would soon my tender spirits spoil,
And my poor genius cramp.

A SIMILE.

There is a fish, as sailors tell, When metaphysics I peruse

That quits the ocean, and will fly's In learned leaves of S- Reviews,

A journey in the air as well
I find them much too deep;

As any bird, but not so high ; *
Contented then I turn them o'er,

But when the salt drops quit his wing, 111 Or very often read no more,

And he is dry as any chip, 11). Or oftener still J sleep.

He would as soon pretend to sing ). From Monthly scribes some learn to prate As to attempt another trip. 4.

On matters against church and state, So Jack, when his red gills are wet, į Like Presbyterian sly;

Well dipp'd in claret and champaigne, Let such with civic poison swell,

He'll sing, and joke, and swear, and bet, No ultra wig nor infidel,

And all his wit is up amain.'
And no reformer I.

But in the morn Jack's gills grow dry,

His tongue and wit alike are slack;

You quickly see by his dead eye.
THE WASP AND THE FLY.

No flounder is more flat than Jack.:) 1. A hint to men of more wit than manners. Wasp.-Well, busy, thirsty, curious Fly,

ON A WICKED MAN WHO DECLARED HE So still your idle hum you ply, Uncheck'd, unnotic'd, round the room, And on your innocence presume.

When Cutpurse declar'd he believ'd in a Whilst all can listen at their ease,

God, You buz about where'er you please; I star'd—for I thought his expression was Sometimes upon a lady's hand

odd;

-7 I see you now unheeded stand,

A rascal believe in a God! I was loth Now crawl, without inspiring fear,

To believe his assertion, tho' back'd by an About her face, her neck, or hair.

oath. When I approach, with eager eyes

Had Cutpurse declar'd he believ'd in the See all the company arise ;

devil, 'Tis perturbation all and rout,

Allowing his faith to have then found its And marks my consequence, no doubt.

level, Fly -Good Mr. Satirist, you bring, I could not discredit my eye and my ear. Where'er you come, your plaguy sting; “ For, talk of the devil, his imp will appear."

.

1

BELIEVED IN A GOD.

t

POREIGN LITERATURE.

5

Méditations Poëtiques, par Alphonse De Lamartine. Paris, 1820. The fertility of bardic talent which and it has already run through four England at present displays, may excuse editions. Its merit is, in truth, unique, that fastidious sternness which pauses and we have no hesitation in saying, on the claim of each new candidate that since the poetry of Racine, none In France, however, the case is dif- has been published in France that will ferent: an utter dearth of poetical pro- bear comparison with this. In the duction has marked her later annals. frothy clamour of modern French traRhymes there have appeared, in every gedy, its pompous descriptions and boisform and every measure-Epopée and terous calamities, the heart is scarcely Elégie-Tragedy and Ode; but, with ever touched. In their ponderous epics scarcely an exception, since the days of the mind is scarcely ever raised. The Delille no French poet has had his lighter line of poetry seemed to be the

fame established on this side the chan- utmost boundary of their success; when | nel; and of those now living, but few the author under consideration suddenare known to us even by name.

ly started up; writing at once purely Now, with the strong national feeling and powerfully, giving elevation to the and literary pretension of the French, feelings, and depth to thought: linkone might expect that a real poet would ing together pathos, harmony, "and find praise on every hand; and, that in strength; and uniting to this lovely the general rejoicing for such a pheno- combination philosophy, inorality, and menop, even the demon of political religion. His force he has found in the hostility would have “ smoothed his study of British poetry-his tenderness wrinkled front," to smile on the efforts in affliction-his ethics in Nature. of self-evident genius. It is not 60. The “ Méditations" are twenty-six The author of the work before us has in number: written in different meahad praise; but it is the praise of party. sures, and with various degrees of merit; One side of the critical chamber hás but all composed under the apparent given its ample award ; but the other, influence of heartfelt melancholy, and the coté gauche of literature- finding it most in the spirit of overpowering woe. impossible with decency to decry, has, Perhaps no state of feeling is so suscepwithout one exception, maintained to tible of poetical expression as this. We wards this extraordinary work the most are not prepared to assert that actual dishonest silence. This notice is traced suffering is a sine quâ non in poetical by no illiberal

pen. Disdaining to drag capacity; but such a state is assuredly before the world's regard the unworthy most propitious, provided the visitings grub, that would struggle into day of the Muse are not too frequent or too through the crevices of party spirit; long. To the inspiration of sorrow we we esteem it nothing less than crime in owe the “ Night Thoughts;" the gloom the literary code to throw a veil before of grief has been the stimulus of our the-sparks of talent, because kindled in greatest living bard--but in the tedious the spirit of politics different from our extravagance of Young, and the murky own. Men of letters belong to a repub- murmurings of Byron, the mind looks lic: equal rights are their common claim yainly for repose, which it finds at and common safeguard. These cannot length is only to be had, by closing its be upheld but by common faith. When- eye on the wearisome record of their ever these fail,“ the republic is in dan- complaints. This French writer, throwger;" and, whether in England or in ing aside the bombast of his national France, it shall not be our fault if every style, and the darker solemnity of ours, aberration from this great principle is agitates our deepest sympathy for his not quickly denounced to well-earned distress; but presents us, in the pureexecration.

ness of his philosophy, a resting-place of It has been the fate of many a fine rare and indescribable delight. He reproduction to “work its way to fame.” vels in woe: his very sustenance is sorThe author of the “ Méditations” has row : but from the bitterest weeds of been spared the agitations and heart- wretchedness he has extracted an esburnings of such an ordeal. He has sence of piety so exquisite, that in its dropped at once into the full harvest of participation even Childe Harold might his honours : but three months have quench the thirst of his despair. passed since the publication of his book,

NEW MONTHLY Mag.--No. 81. VOL. XIV.

3 D

La nuit est ton scjour, l'horreur est ton domaine,
Laigle, roi des déserts, dédaigne ainsi la plaines
Il ne veut, comme toi, que des rocs escarpés
Que l'hiver a blanchis, que la foudre a frappés;

Gloire à la fin supreme:
Qui tira tout de soi, se doit tout à goi-même !
Jouis, grand artisan, de l'æuvre de tes mains:
Je suis pour accomplir tes ordres souverains;
Dispose, ordonne, agis; dans les teinp9, dans l'espace,
Marque-moi pour ta gloire et mon jour et ma place;
Mon étre, sans se plaindre, et sans t interroger,
De soi-même en silence accourra s'y ranger,
Comme ces globes d'or qui dans les champs du vide
Suivent avec amour ton ombre qui les guide,
Noyé dans la lumière, ou perdu dans la nuit,
Je marcherai comme eux où ton doigt me conduit;
Soit que, choisi par toi pour éclairer les mondes,
Réfléchissant sur eux les feux dont tu m'inondes,
Je m'élance entouré d'esclaves radieux,
Et franchisse d'un pas tout l'abyme des cieux;
Suit que me reléguant loin, bien loin de ta vue,
Tu ne fasses de moi, créature inconnue,
Qu'un atome oublié sur les bords du néant,
Ou qu’un grain de poussière emporté par le vent,
Glorieux de mon sort, puisqu'il est ton ouvrage,
J'irai, j'irai par-tout te rendre un même hommage,
Et d'un egal amour accomplissant ma loi,
Jusqu'aux bords du néant murmurer : Gloire à toi !

This passage is extracted from the second poem in the series, entitled “ l'Homme," and addressed to Lord Byron. The whole of this is most beautiful. It is written in the finest spirit of religion and poetry; and the heart must be a hard one that could remain insensible to such an appeal. It commences thus:

+ Toi, dont le monde encore ignore le vrai nom,
Esprit mystérieux, mortel, ange, ou démon,
Qui que tu sois, Byron, bon ou fatal génie,
J'aime de tes concerts la sauvage harmonie,
Comme j'aime le bruit de la foudre et des vents
Se melant dans l'orage à la voix des torrents !

Trouvant sa volupté dans les cries de sa proie,
Bercé par la tempête, il s'endort dans sa joie.
Et toi, Byron, semblable à ce brigand des airs,
Les cris du désespoir sont tes plus doux concerts. -
Le mal est ton spectacle, et l'homme est ta victime.
Ton æil, comme Satan, a mesuré labyme,
Et ton ame, y plongeant loin du jour et de Dieu,
A dit à l'espérance un éternel adieu !
Comme lui, maintenant, régnant dans les ténèbres,
Ton génie invincible éclate en chants funèbres ;
Il triomphe, et ta voix, sur un mode infernal,
Chante l'hymne de gloire au sombre dieu du Mal.

After this opening, the first lines of
which remind us too strongly of Hamlet,
the poet proceeds, in a strain of beauti-
ful reasoning, to convince the object of
his address that he has mistaken his
destiny ; that man, escaped from the
hand of his creator like dust scattered to
the winds, has his place assigned him;
and that, bounded by nature to his nar-
row limits, “Ignorer et servir, c'est la
loi de son être."
# Byron, ce mot est dur : long-temps j'en ai

douté;
Mais pourquoi reculer devant la verité ?
Ton titre devant Dieu c'est d'être son ouvrage !
De sentir, d'adorer ton divin esclavage;
Dans l'ordre universel foible atome emporté,
D'unir à ses desseins ta libre volonté,
D'avoir été conçu par son intelligence,
De le glorifier par ta seule existence !
Voilà, voilà ton sort.

* The following translations of our extracts will afford the English reader a faint idea of the original :Praise to the power on high !

I love it-like the thunder and the wind Self-making source of its own majesty.

With cataract's roar in mighty concert join'd. Great artist ! thine the triumph of thy hands, Night is thy home, and horror thy domain. I am the lowly tool of thy commands.

The eagle, desert-king, thus scorns the plain, Bow'd down before thy might, in time and space And singly thrones him on the shivered rock Let but thy glory mark thy creature's place; Which winter whitens, and which thunders shock; My uncomplaining soul will silent fly,

Banquets voluptuous on his victim's cry, Nor question him who rules its destiny:

And tempest-cradled slumbers in his joy.
But, like Heaven's golden orbs, which wander wide Thou, Byron ! like this outlaw of the skies,
Still gladly moving where thy glories guide,

Delighted list'nest to despair's wild cries;
Drown'd in the splendour of thy living light, Evil thy feast-humanity thy prey
Or lost in realms of darkness and of night,

Thine eye, like Lucifer's, the downward way
Like them I 'll trace the path thy fingers shew, or hell deep fathoming--the while thy mind
Enlightning worlds by fires which round me glow; Low plunging there, congenial home to find,
Rushing along, on wings of radiance driven, Relentless murmurs from its drear abode,
With lightning speed throughout the fields of Farewel to hope, to daylight, and to God!
Heaven

But Satan-like thou art the monarch there: Or be it that far-banish'd from thy throne,

Thy genius triumphs through the blackend air, Thou mak'st of me-my nothingness unknown Which bears thy loud voice onwards, echoing still But a mere, nameless atom on Earth's verge, The hymn of glory to the spirits of ill! Or sand-grain, sport of tempest and of surge,

# Byron ! this doom seems hard. From early Proud of my fate--because the work is thine

youth I'll fly and make the wide-spread world thy shrine, I thought it doubtful, but why shrink from truth? Exulting -unabas'dras nature free

Thou art the work of God_tis all thou art! And till her last gasp murm'ring Praise to thee ! To own thy Lord and Maker, be thy part: ?

To blend with his design thine own free will + Thou, whom earth pauses yet to name or scan, Framed by his wisdom--fashion'd by his skillMysterious spirit, angel, deinon, man,

Weak atom in the universal plan,
By ron! be what thou may'st, or good or ill, To sound his praise in merely being man!
Thy wild song wafts me consolation still.

This is thy destiny:

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