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Count's “ Der Felsen strom"_" The ing thus, we think we have acted Cataract"_subjoining the original in rightly. For why should a man, who a note* forthe benefit of unbelievers :- has been more highly gifted than his Unperishing youth !
fellows, be therefore held less amenThou streamest from forth
able than they to the laws which Out of the rock-clift;
ought to bind all human beings, and Never mortal saw
regulate their relations and their dealThe cradle of the strong one;
ings with one another ? It is high Never ear heard
time that genius should cease to be The babbling of the noble one in his spray, pleaded as an excuse for deviations scattering well.
from the plain path of rectitude, or be The sun clothes thee
held up as a precedent which the leadIn rays of glory;
ing men of future generations may He paints with the colours of the heaven.
avail themselves of, should they be ly bow
inclined to depart from the strict The wavering clouds of the dust-flood.”
standards of propriety and truth. Having alluded to the Quarterly That Coleridge was tempted into Review, we shall here take the liberty this course by vanity, by the paltry of extracting part of a sentence, from desire of applause, or by any direct that very able work, touching another intention to defraud others of their due, of Coleridge's coincidences :" We we do not believe: this never was cannot " (says the Quarterly, vol. lii. believed, and never will be believed. p. 21)—“ we cannot miss this oppor. But still he was seduced into it-God tunity of mentioning the curious fact, knows how: he did defraud others of that, long before Goethe's Faust had their due, and therefore we have appeared in a complete state-indeed considered it necessary to expose his before Mr Coleridge had ever seen proceedings, and to vindicate the rights any part of it, he had planned a work of his victims. Perhaps we might have upon the same, or what he takes to be dwelt more than we have done upon the same, idea.” This is certainly a what many may consider the extenuacurious fact; but we do not think our ting circumstances of his case-we readers will consider it so very curious, mean his moral and intellectual connow that a good deal of light has formation, originally very peculiar, and been thrown upon the nature of his further modified by the effects of immoother coincidences.".
derate opium-taking. But this would We have now done with our sub- only take us out of one painful subject ject. We have set forth and argued into another still more distressing. We the case of Coleridge's plagiarisms, therefore say no more. precisely as we should have done that will have been answered, should any of any other person who had carried future author who may covet his them on to the same extent. By this neighbour's Pegasus or prose-nag, and we mean to say, that we have accorded conceive that the high authority of to him-on the plea of peculiar ha. Coleridge may, to a certain extent, bits, or peculiar intellectual confor. justify him in making free with them, mation—no privilege, or immunity, be deterred from doing so by the exor indulgence, which we would not ample we have now put forth in ter-, equally have accorded to any plagiar
Let all men know and conist of the most methodical ways and of sider that plagiarism, like murder, the most common clay. And in act- sooner or later will out.
. “ Unsterblicher Jüngling!
Dich kleidet die Sonne
In Strahlen des Ruhmes !
Sie mahlet mit Farben des himmlis-
chen Bogens Die Wiege des Starken:
Die schwebenden Wolken der staü-
- Vide Vol. I., p. 104, Gesammelte Werke der Bruder Christian
und Fred. Leopold Grafen zu Stolberg, Hamburg: 1820.
ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND,
Lift up your heads, ye glorious gates !
Ye doors, by kings uprear'd, give way!
Before your thresholds pause to-day,
Tremendous Trafalgar :
Girt by the gallants of her land-
Shall at the altar stand,
Raise the rejoicing hand.
As slow the gorgeous ranks unfold
The Lion leaps in gold !
Ode on the Marriage of the Queen of England.
To thee with one soft ray the more,
That badge unsullied bore.)
Again that regal trumpet pealing!
And lo, yon radiant pathway down-
And paged by old Renown-
Within the saintly chapel shed,
And wisdom's reverend head,
And well might some amid that throng
Who shiver'd Gaul's imperial shield,
Of that stern Flemish field
That festal trump has ceased to peal
From arch and portal richly dim-
And now the nuptial hymn,
Attendant dame and sworded peer,
What coldly beauteous eyes are here ?
Bend from your clouds, ye kingly dead!
And, crown'd, ye softer shadows bend !
Your thousand years of glory end !
Surrounded by cathedral glooms,
Are watching from the tombs.
Of whose resistless hand
Were drifted like the sand,
Who left, reluctant, book and bower
To share the momentary power
On years, shall Pity wake and Woe,
While Byron's strains immortal flow.
Like to the Greek's Olympian God,)
Was spread where'er he trode;
But lo! each Shape of kingly mould
Each circling Form, august, has fled !
The pageant's numbers bright and bold,
The Island Queen is wed!
* His last words to the only page in attendance at the moment. See the Journals of the period.
LEIGH HUNT'S LEGEND OF FLORENCE.
Leigh HUNT is now a successful that this one is peculiarly so, is proved dramatist, and we rejoice in his suc- by the play being throughout most incess as cordially as his best friends teresting, and the pathos towards the can do--for he deserves it. We are close profound. There needs no other about to praise, but not to flatter him; proof of the fitness of the story for traand, when we think we see occasion, gedy, than that it here affects us with shall be free in our strictures, knowing terror and pity--but pity predominates, that he has an independent spirit, and that other passion is here transient; that, like all men ofrealgenius, he would while there is no end to our tears but prefer from a disinterested critic his win thoughts that lie too deep" for sincere opinion, formed in a genial spi- such effusion, and that finally settle rit, to more extravagantencomiums not down into assured peace. bearing the unequivocal impress of the How beautiful a picture ! love of truth.
Nor with the congra- Colonna. I heard, as I came in, one who tulatory acclamations of sympathizing had seen her gods and men yet ringing in his ears, Laid on the bier, say that she looks most will he be regardless of a voice from heavenly. far-off Scotland. We seldom go to Da Riva. I saw her lately, as you'll see the theatre now-a-days ; but when Murray brings out on the Edinburgh Lying but newly dead, her blind sweet looks stage The Legend of Florence, Chris- Border'd with lilies, which her pretty maiden, topher North will be in No. Three, 'Twixt tears and kisses, put about her hair right-hand side, with his court-crutch To show her spotless life, and that wrong --crimson velvet and gold-and the house, at each soul-stirring or soul
Dared not forbid, for very piteous truth ; subduing hit, will time its thunders to
And as she lay thus, not more unresisting the beck of The BALD-HEAD.
Than all her life, I pitied even him, “ A word,” says Mr Hunt, in his
To think, that let him weep or ask her pleasant preface, is respecting the story
pardon of my play. When I resided near Fl Never so much, she would not answer more. rence, some years ago, I was in the ha
As slie was buried, so did she arise. bit of going through a streetin
But let us begin at the beginning, called the • Street of Death,' (Via della and not at the end. The play opens Morte,).-a name given it from the well with a lively and spirited collocircumstance of a lady's having passed quy between Fulvio da Riva, a poet, through it at night-time in her grave
and Cæsare Colonna, an officer of the clothes, who had been buried during Pope-(his Holiness being on his way a trance.
The story, which in its to visit his native city)—who meet on mortal particulars resembles several the high-road from Florence to Rome. of the like sort that are popular in
From it we get an insight into the other countries, and which indeed are
character of Agolanti, a noble Flo. no less probable than romantic, has rentine, who has been for some four been variously told by Italian authors, years married to Ginevra-and who, and it have taken my own liberties it is happily said,
No less probable than romantic? What! being
" Is as celestial out of his own house buried alive, and undergoing resur
As he is devil within it." rection! Even so. For in that coun
So says Da Riva, and Colonna takes try the corpse is not coffined-we
up the word. forget that dreadful word-and there is room for re-awakening life to breathe
Col. The devil it is! (Looking after freely in the vault of death. But is
him.) Methinks he casts a blackness such a strange event a fit story for a
Around him as he walks, and blights the play? Yes; every popular legend is
And all is true then, is it, which they tell so, with hardly any exception; and
with it accordingly,