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But the visions quicker pass
Over memory's wizard glass!
Now, mid Scotia's hills and dells,
BURNS with HIGHLAND MARY dwells!
Now, 'neath Gallia's sunset glow,
JULIA wanders with ROUSSEAU!
Lo! along the banks of Tweed,
Rove a happy pair indeed!
Shall her worth be e'er forgot,

The lovely bride of WALTER SCOTT?
Darker visions gloom along,

But they shall not shade our song.
These are pictures of that bliss
Which brightens life's dull wilderness:

Oh, long may such glad visions beam

Over earth's perturbed stream,
As the silver stars that light

The darkness of a winter's night!

XIII.

But we've wandered from our theme away;

Let us seek the scene again,

Where the gathered Brave and Beauteous pay
Honors to the bridal twain.
Now the merry tamborine,
Now the giddy violin,

Now the trump and drum are blent
With many a festive instrument!
And, in crowds that gaily glance,

Onward speeds the circling dance!

See with gay and graceful charm
Beauty leans on Valor's arm,
Listening to the whispered words
That thrill her spirit's music chords!
Oh, her heart is like a harp

Where the hand of love might play!
Were it ever thus in tune,

It would pour sweet songs alway!
Now as circling round they go,
Floating on with music's flow,
On her fond, uplifted face,

Glows not the famed Madonna's grace?
And the youth beside her moving,
Whither are his visions roving?—
He is gazing in her eyes,

Far down in their fountains deep,-
Blue and bright as Autumn skies,-

Where the nestling Cupids sleep!
Ah, bold gazer, heed thee well!-
That is woman's chiefest spell!
Heed!-or she will bind thy heart,
As Cleopatra, by her art,

The Roman chief, though stern and brave,
Brought to her feet, a very slave!--
On with the dance,-nor gaze too long,-
That strain is Hope's delusive song!

XIV.

The dance goes on to merry measure, Light hearts speed the hours of pleasure, Oh, how many shapes are here,

That shine in beauty's loftiest sphere !— And what charms of form and mien Shed their witchery o'er the scene!— Never have mine eyes beheld

A scene of bliss that, this, excelled!

XV.

I do remember me that once,
In Venice on a night in June,
I mingled in the whirling dance
Within a proudly-decked saloon.

Its sculptured walls were famed in story;
Around me wandered forms as bright
As Raphael's pencil wed to glory,-
Embodiments of rosy light!

The scene was witchery !—and yet
My heart, in sadness, turned away;
It could not, in that trance, forget
Bright forms beyond the western sea!
Those forms are wandering round me now,
Are mingling in a sweeter dance;
Kindness is writ on every brow;
Ah, is not this a deeper trance!

XVI.

But soft!-amid the sparkling train,
Where youth and grace and beauty reign,
Who is she that meets the sight,
Like a "Phantom of Delight?"
Though the forms around are fair,
None with her can half compare;
The highest planet in the sky,
The lodestar of each wondering eye.

XVII.

Sweet lady fair!-I need not tell
Thy gentle name: I own thy spell!
Throughout that glad and festal day,
Votive homage did I pay.

I stood beside thee in the dance;
I watched thy blue-eye's ev'ry glance;
I saw thy form glide graceful on,
As o'er the wave, Cayster's swan;
I listened to thy playful words,
Sweet as the music of young birds;
And, as I gazed, I felt my heart,
That long in joy had known no part,—
Around whose feelings time had thrown
A coldness like the winter stone,-
Melt into bliss beneath thy smile,
And gush with joy and love the while,-
As from the rock the fountains broke
Beneath the words the Prophet spoke!--
And when the giddy dance was done,
We wandered on the Steamer's deck,
And there, beneath the setting sun,

While glowed the west with sheets of flame, And from the shore the soft wind came, Lifting the curls upon thy neck,

I strove in vain my love to speak!-
Ah, little deem'dst thou at that hour,
What feelings in my breast had power!—
Could I have coined them into song,
Some strain, like this, had swept along:

XVIII.

LOVE'S METAPHORS.

Thou art a star, lady, thou art a star!
Gleaming in beauty and light from afar!
Heaven's own lustre shines in thy face,
And shrines thee in purity, virtue and grace:
And many a heart, and many a knee,
Lady, are bowing unto thee!
They throb, they beat, they sigh, they yearn,
For one glance of those eyes on them to turn!
Those eyes,-those eyes,-those starry eyes!
Cynosures worshipped by weak and wise!
As Chaldean shepherds worshipped, of old,
The stars they deemed Gods, and died to behold!
Though many they are, who thus bend at thy feet,
And would win thee, thou star, from thy blest retreat!
Yet none of them love thee half so true,
As the humble bard who now singeth for you!

Then deign, oh deign, on my path to shine,
Bright star of my worship!-blest, pure and divine!

Thou art a rose, lady, thou art a rose !
Fragrant and lovely as any that grows!-
Though many a rival is round thee seen,
None, there are none, like the garden's queen!
The lily is fair, but her cheek is pale,
And she looks the maid of some loveborn tale;
The violet's sweet, and the marigold,-
By none but the rose can thy lips be told!

Those lips, those lips,-those rosy lips!
Flowers, where the honey-bee faints as he sips!
Ah, how many a lover would die if he might
But press, for one second, those lips of light!-
Or hear them in kindness fragrantly breathe
The thoughts which he prays, may cluster beneath!
Oh, yes such there are, but none love so true
As the humble bard who now singeth for you!-
Then deign, oh deign on my path to beam,
Sweet rose of my heart!-hope's embryon dream!

Thou art a lute, lady, thou art a lute!
Whose strain of melody never is mute!
Never, oh never did minstrel repeat
His song of love in music more sweet,
Nor angel breathe his favorite hymn,
With sweeter tones 'mid the seraphim,
Than those that enrapturing float 'round thy way,
When thy heart and voice unite in some lay!-
That voice, that voice,-that lute-like voice !—
Whose gentlest thrill makes the hearer rejoice!
How many have hung entranced to hear
Its swan-like mellifluence fall on the ear!-
And how many, now bowing around thee, deem
That thou art all music,-Saint Cecilia's dream!
Though many there be, none love thee so true
As the humble bard who now singeth for you!
Then deign, oh deign, to sired, o'er his woes,
Thy light, music, and fragrance,-star, lute, and rose.

XIX.

Our gallant Steamer now had reached
The limits of her western way,

And proudly paused awhile to view

The glorious scene that round us lay! Stained by the colors of the sunset sky,

A road of gold, the river rippled by;

Far as the eye could reach, it gleamed away,
Beneath the flashes of the dying day;
While, in the distance, like some Indian's boat,
Dim hurrying shadows o'er the surface float;
Until, far reaching neath the sunset's pyre,
The flashing waters seem to melt in fire!-
Oh, what a bright emblazonry,

That evening, robed the Western sky!-
Though ever in our gorgeous clime,
It is a most impassioned time,
And nobler pageants meet the eye,
Than ever blazed in Italy,-

Flinging Apollo's parting rays
Above his earlier dwelling-place,

As though the God still loved to view

The shrines which once, his worship knew!-
Or ever flashed o'er Sunias' steep,
Turning to gold the Ægean deep,--
As on that eve, when through her isles
Ulysses fled Calypso's wiles.-
And sky and wave and island bower
Partook the passion of the hour!-
Yet never was a lovelier even
To raptured eyes, in beauty, given,

VOL. VII-87

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How lovely too, the scene around!-
'Tis rich traditionary ground.
Yon beetling cliff, so rugged, steep,
The Natives called THE LOVERS' LEAP.
So high its top you scarcely now
Can mark the Cedars on its brow;
And the small streams, that, from it, come,
Are inidway lost in rain and foam!-
And yet in olden times,-they say,-
A chieftain, from his foes, one day,
In triumph bore his bride away:
A hundred warriors quick pursued,—
A hundred warriors bent on blood!-
They track him through the devious wood.
At every turn they hem his path,-
Shouting with dread, relentless, wrath!-
On! fearless Rover of the wild,-
On! with thy foeman's treasured child.
Though ever swiftest in the chase,
'Tis now a fiercer, deadlier race.

On! with thy bride, nor pause for breath,
Thy only chance, escape, or death!
At length, in safety, with his bride,
He gains the river's anxious side;
But what a deadlier doom is this!-
They stand upon the precipice!
Upon its dizzy verge they stand,-
Their coming foes on every hand!
One moment now they pause to hear,-

The vengeful warhoop echoes near!

There's no escape!-Shall that fair child,

By heartless fury be defiled?

Shall that young warrior, for her sake,

Die by the faggot and the stake?

There's no escape! Yes, heavens !-they leap From off the summit of the steep!

Pale gazer on yon lofty cliff,

Tell me the fate of that bold chief!
Think you, that leap, he could survive,
And with the waves successful strive ?--

Ah, yes in safety o'er the tide,

He proudly bore his hard-won bride !--
And long his deeds shall live in fame,

For TUSCALOOSA was that warrior's name!

XXI.

But now the scenes around grow dimmer:
The cliff and sunset fade away:
Soft through the skies the cold stars glimmer:
The young moon sheds her twilight ray.
Up with the steam!-our gallant vessel
Too long hath lingered on her way,-
Yet, ere we leave, one parting volley
The soldiers to their memories pay,-

Whose names have shed a halo round the scene,-
The chief of this broad realm, and his wild forest-queen!

Hark, from the cliff, what echoes thunder!

The opposing banks reply in wonder:

The wild deer startled from his sleep,

Dashes along the lofty steep:

The eagle screaming soars around,

Scared by the rude, unwelcome sound.

Such sounds those hills have never heard,-

By such their quietude been stirred,—

Since famed DE SOTO, that wild Spanish rover, With his fierce band, this gentle stream crossed over!

XXII.

Now, up the stream, our graceful steamer
Speeds like a breathing thing along,-
While, in her cabin, many a dreamer

Listens to Beauty's witching song!

In festive mirth, dance on the hours,

All hearts are wreathed with hope and bliss ; And some,-the sterner sex,-in showers,Partook the goblet's beaded kiss! Ab, bright CHAMPAGNE !--the golden nectar, The elixir fit for realms divine!Not Hebé, in her dalliance, decked her

Goblets, with brighter waves than thine! "Tis said, and I believe the story,

That Bacchus, when he rose from earth,
Left, as memento of his glory,

Thy recipe,-sweet source of mirth!
Ah, long may thy glad vintage brighten,-
Impulse of pleasure and of song!
All sorrows of the heart to lighten,--
Thy glorious waters sparkle long!
And oh, should wrinkled care o'ertake me,
My purse give out,-my lady love,-
As women will!-coldly forsake me,--
No flowers around, no star above;
Oh, then, my friend,-if I may ask it,-
For doubtful tis if one remain,--
Send me in love-a half-a-basket

Of Lillery's best star-champagne !

XXIII.

In mirth, we said, flew on the hours,--
In mirth and song in Beauty's bowers,-
If bowers the dreaming Muse may call
That Steamer's decorated hall!—
But ah, the bard cannot rehearse
Those mysteries in his fading verse:
How many hearts, that night, were won,
Or, sadder fate, were "quite undone !"
These sacred incidents, alone
To such as felt them, can be known!
The whispered speech, the smothered sigh,
The tear-gem in the drooping eye,
The blushes o'er the bended neck,
The vows upon the strolling deck,
The frowns upon the Moon, whose light,
By lovers loved, was all too bright
For some that strolled that festal night,
Must all in secret live or die,
Unechoed by our minstrelsy!
Suffice it now in song to tell.--
The last notes of the sinking shell,--
That "all went merry as a married belle !"
And when at length our gallant barque
Had gained her anchorage in the port,
And, slowly strolling through the dark,

The scattered wanderers home resort,-
All hearts were brimmed with happiness,
In memory of the recent bliss,
And all with feeling's deepest swell,
Breathed forth,-or should have breathed, this fond

FAREWELL:

1.

Farewell! to the Barque, that has borne us to-day, In gladness over the rolling wave;

Oh, long, on the stream, may her bright pennons play, Endeared to the hearts of the Fair and Brave! And back when we turn from the shadows of time, To gaze on the stars that brightened youth's sky, The hours we past,

In her bosom, will last,-

The brightest and best, on the age-faded eye!

2.

Farewell! to the Bride!--who, in life's rosy hour,
Hath launched her frail shallop upon the broad sea;
With innocence, beauty and love for her dower
And visions as brilliant as dream-poesy!
May prospering breezes, aye, fill her fair sails,
And no shadows her blue sky ever o'erwhelm,
But brightly her boat

O'er the deep waters float,

With Hope at the prow, and Love at the helm!

3.

Farewell to the Bridegroom!--the honored, the blest!--
His sky is now lit by life's loveliest star!-
Oh, long be his heart with such pleasures possess'd,
And never be shadowed by sorrow or care!-
His harp that, in sweetness, oft trembled with song,
Oh, soon gush its fount with a lovelier strain;
And ever its strings,-

As the dying swan sings,Pour the gladdest of music while life shall remain! 4.

Farewell unto all, who have wandered to-day!--
The brave and the lovely, the dull and the glad,
The hearts that were swimming with visions all gay,-
The heads that were swimming with what they had had !
To each and to all, a happy good-night!--
The hour is growing, for song, rather late:
But, now as we part,

Oh, long, in each heart,

The memory live of the NUPTIAL FETE!

ON NEWSPAPERS.

"Est natura hominun novitatis avida."-Pliny.

As a distinguishing trait between the present age and past years, we can find none more marked, than the increased number of newspapers. We have so many now, and they have become such an accustomed and daily comfort and convenience, that considering their absence in former times, we al most wonder how they continued to do without them: or at least, it appears strange that they did not come into general use at an earlier period. There are few individuals now-a-days, who can resist the fascinations of this sort of reading, however averse they may be to reading in general. And newspapers, on this account, serve a useful purpose; for they lead persons to read, who per haps, but for them, would never do so at all: most of us have, in the circle of our acquaintance, many of such a class. A taste for reading may thus be oftentimes created. To serve such a purpose as

this, they are more admirably suited, than any | it; and indeed, most of Life's pleasures consist in other kind of publication; for by reason of their this very expectation, rather than in the fruition. In convenient form, they can be carried everywhere, their style, taken generally, there is much uniforin situations where there would be little else to oc- mity, which is remarkable, considering the various cupy the mind, and where a book would be incon- kinds and degrees of talent, which their different venient and troublesome: a book we are anxious editors must possess: this shows the influence of not to lose, in travelling for instance, but a news-habit and example. The style of most of their paper once read, nobody cares about; and even if direct editorials, to my mind, resembles very much it were otherwise, it could be easily stowed away. that tone of half badinage, half earnest, in which On account too of the great variety of their con- Washington Irving's works are written; and his tents, they offer something interesting to persons writings have, in some measure, contributed to the of every turn of mind, and every sort of pursuit. general adoption of this manner; and they may By reason of this same variety, they have a cer- owe some portion of their great popularity to the tain peculiar use to readers generally, and par- same source. The similar effects of the writings ticularly to students of one subject; and perhaps of Boz on the periodical press is quite evident : the preponderance of errors in the minds of scho- indeed writers who have seen much of mankind, lars of former times, as compared with the pre- who understand human nature, and who therefore, sent, may be, in some measure, traced to their in their writings, are rather practical; I think, as a want. The cause and effect to which I allude, are general rule, are apt to assume this tone. Another the following:-by fixing our attention too much uniformity which they possess, is, the facility of upon one particular subject, we are apt to observe comprehension which they impress upon all subits presence where many see it not; and we are jects: every thing however abstruse naturally, is apt to imagine its sway and influence in the world, so modified in their all-changing crucible, that it to be far more extensive than they really are: and is made suitable to the most ordinary comprehenthis will not only cause us to undervalue other sion. It is on account of this facility of being unthings, but will tend to lead into strange errors, derstood, that newspapers are the best kind of by the want of that correction to the imagination, reading after a meal, or when we feel little inclined which a knowledge of not only analogous, but also to study: most of those accustomed to read them of things not directly connected with it, frequently can recall many an agreeable hour which they gives. The eye is fixed with such intensity on have thus afforded. By requiring no study, they one particular object, that other things, though impart information to many individuals who would within the sphere of vision, are not perceived: not have the energy or the mind to seek it in other many a life within the walls of European univer- forms; they are thus well adapted to the habits of sities, has thus been passed in cloud-land. News- the people of this country; and hence, their numpapers, by perpetually showing to such persons, ber is larger here than elsewhere. For, in the that in the great world around them, there are first place, those who love reading, have not time many other things occupying an important place, to read any thing requiring much application; and besides their favorite pursuit, tend at least to coun- secondly, we cannot, for the same reason, pursue teract visionary ideas, founded upon such a basis. with ease any settled course of study; but are, in I confess that there are many strange errors in the general, obliged to acquire information only by world still; but generally they are different from desultory reading, such as is furnished by newsthose to which I allude.

papers.

The pleasure they afford is of considerable ex- To our country they are of great use, as regards tent-all persons delight in news of one sort or its size and political state; for, from its vast exanother, and to many persons not actively engaged, tent, were it not for newspapers, before the news it furnishes a subject of thought and attention, of any political event reached one portion of the which it would be otherwise difficult to find; it is Union, it would be quite stale in another. Now, from this principle that all the evils of gossipping since the people rule in a Democratic country, it is and scandal-love spring; and newspapers furnish very necessary that their opinions should be known; food for this feeling, and far more wholesome food, and at present, immediately upon the occurrence than gossipping-but of this more anon. What a of such an event, by means of the press, it is sent pleasing expectation is every day, or day or two, oc- to every part of the Union; and through the press, curring to those who take a paper; the expectation which as to politics, in this respect, is but the peoof the messenger sent for it; and then the moment ple's voice, the sentiments of the democracy are at of opening it, is free from all care. It has been once given upon it; and their representatives know said that no one ever opened a newspaper without exactly in what manner to vote. On account of disappointment in its contents; but this only fol- their constant interchange of paragraphs, they furlows the general rule applying to most hopes and nish to the men of great mind throughout the counwishes; for how seldom does the object, when ob- try, a very valuable and quick mode of communitained, give the pleasure which we anticipated from cating their thoughts to the whole nation, so soon

them; and the habitual reader, when any thing new comes out in one of them, as for instance, of the humorous, can almost foretell whether it will be copied or not. As a sequence of what I have be fore remarked, as to the simplicity of their contents, we might presume that they would rarely copy the really abstruse; and such is in fact, the case: but they seem to relish very much the insertion of articles, which, though at first blush abstruse, yet whose sense, the reader can easily disentangle. I was forcibly struck with this idea on reading, a year or two ago, some pieces in

as a great event occurs; and from such a combi- coming up to the most popular standards of critination of talent, the true view of things is much cism. Thus for instance, because critics have more likely to be taken, than would be the case if placed their seal of condemnation upon any thing facilities of this kind did not exist. This is also florid; however beautiful an idea may be, in other the case with what is said in legislative assemblies, respects, however true and noble, the newspapers through the reporters; and although our govern- will rarely venture to copy it. In most things ment greatly differs from the ancient little Repub- falling in the department of literature, they have a lics, in the respect that we perform by representa- peculiar taste, which is common to nearly all of tives, what the people were then accustomed to do personally; still, through the debates, as reported in the newspapers, the orators yet speak (you may almost say,) to the whole population. As to the transmission of news and moral impressions generally, newspapers, with the assistance of railroads and steamboats almost annihilate distance: and thus is the "go-a-head" principle, so conspicuous in the United States, aided very much; for the whole Union moves together. May we not also attribute, in a great degree, to these three things, above mentioned in conjunction, that sameness of language, and to a great degree, of character, pervading our Blackwood's Magazine, written under the heading whole country, although so differing in many things, as climate, &c. -a sameness which we can find in no other country of such extensive limits. Newspapers may thus do more than we might imagine, in binding together the several parts of our Union. Nothing keeps up with, and coincides so much with the spirit of the times, as newspapers; and the next age to get the best idea of the present, need not turn to histories, but to a file of old newspapers: if they do not get the facts altogether ungarbled, nevertheless, they will get the tone, the under-current of feeling, which is essential to understanding fully any history, and which will teach far more, than the mere detail of facts. They will thus serve, in the future, the same purpose, as respects this age, as the Private Journals of the last several centuries, now serve as respects those times.

of "Our New Contributor." Amongst them, there was one entitled the " Moss Rose," which had that slight air of mysticism, but facility of interpreta tion, to which I have just referred; and hence, being a pretty good piece, it was inserted in many of the newspapers. There was another entitled, "Wail for Dædalus;" which the editor of Blackwood said was superior to any of Shelley's. This piece I never met with elsewhere; and it is probable, that scarcely a newspaper in the country extracted it-owing, not to the seeming, but real mysticism, in which its meaning was involved.

Taken as a whole, each newspaper is a picture of the world as it is now: there lie the shadows and the sunny places: misery and happiness, crime and virtue; and not only these, but things which pertain not to them, aye besides in the religious and moral; also whatever is new in the literary, Quite remarkable is the continual habit which the scientific, and chiefly in the commercial world; they have, of quoting every piece seemingly good, showing how far aloft, in point of consideration, whether prose or verse, whatever be the cir- commerce towers amidst the many objects in the cumstances attending it for instance, it is fre- tumultuous world around. Indeed after all, this quently the case, that from some book of poems, is the cause of their great number in the United lately published, there will be an extract made by States; for we are essentially, the most business one of them, which will be copied by a large num- people on the globe: look at the large portion of ber; then it will lie dormant for some years; then, nearly every one of them, filled with advertisein order to illustrate something, or on account of ments. This is the kind of news, in which most its striking his fancy, or from some other reason, of us are interested, and therefore, there are more an editor will come out with it again; and imme- of them but what a variety of readers! Some diately, as many of his brother-editors will follow never look at the advertisements or prices-cursuit, as if the piece were perfectly new. But fre- rent; only reading the poetry and light anecdotes, quently in old newspapers, we may pick up beau- also passing over the politics. To others bow tiful remarks, both prose and poetry, which have delightful are the politics! This class chiefly comperhaps, never been seen elsewhere, because they posed of middle-aged gentlemen; persons who have never been copied for the taste of the edi-think themselves wiser than any of the remaining tors is not always of the best kind; and although portion of the human race: and nothing can be highly independent in some things, yet here, they more childish than the accounts which please them are quite the contrary, and often seem to shrink legislative bodies consuming several weeks in defrom publishing an article, because of its not bating abolition questions, expunging resolutions,

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