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She said, that with their house she only staid
That parting peace might with them all be made;
But pray'd for love to share his foreign life,
And shun all future chance of kindred strife.
He wrote with speed, his soul's consent to say:
The letter miss'd her on her homeward way.
In six hours CONSTANCE was within his arms:
Moved, flush'd, unlike her wonted calm of charms,
And breathless-with uplifted bands outspread―
Burst into tears upon his neck, and said,-

'I knew that those who brought your message laugh'd,
With poison of their own to point the shaft;
And this my one kind sister thought, yet loth
Confess'd she fear'd 'twas true you have been wroth.
But here you are, and smile on me: my pain
Is gone, and CONSTANCE is herself again.'
His ecstacy, it may be guess'd, was much,
Yet pain's extreme and pleasure's seem'd to touch.
What pride! embracing beauty's perfect mould;
What terror! lest his few rash words, mistold,
Had agonized her pulse to fever's heat:
But calm'd again so soon it healthful beat,

And such sweet tones were in her voice's sound,
Composed herself, she breathed composure round."

She consents that he should attend Julia's dying wish

"I'll wait for your return on England's shore,
And then will cross the deep and part no more."

When he went from Constance, "he stifled" a dark presentiment, "Some ailment lurk'd, ev'n whilst she smiled, to mock His fears of harm from yester-morning's shock;"

But left a page in charge to follow him, if her health were threatened.

"With UDOLPH then he reach'd the house of woe.

That winter's eve how darkly Nature's brow
Scowl'd on the scenes it lights so lovely now!
The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice,
Shook fragments from the rifted precipice;
And whilst their falling echoed to the wind,
The wolf's long howl in dismal discord join'd,
While white yon water's foam was raised in clouds
That whirl'd like spirits wailing in their shrouds :
Without was Nature's elemental din-

And beauty died, and friendship wept, within!"

His grief for Julia's death is "stunned into stupor," by the ar

rival of the page.

""Twas fancying CONSTANCE underneath the shroud
That cover'd JULIA made him first weep loud,

And tear himself away from them that wept.
Fast hurrying homeward, night nor day he slept,


Till, launch'd at sea, he dreamt that his soul's samt
Clung to him on a bridge of ice, pale, faint,
O'er cataracts of blood. Awake, he bless'd
The shore; nor hope left utterly his breast,
Till reaching home, terrific omen! there
The straw-laid street preluded his despair-
The servant's look-the table that reveal'd
His letter sent to CONSTANCE last, still seal'd,
Though speech and hearing left him, told too clear
That he had now to suffer-not to fear."

It seems the mother of Constance had foreseen that,-(it is "her one kind sister" who is speaking,

"Should CONSTANCE leave the land, she would withdraw
Our House's charm against the world's neglect-
The only gem that drew it some respect.

Hence, when you went, she came and vainly spoke
To change her purpose-grew incensed, and broke
With execrations from her kneeling child.
Start not! your angel from her knee rose mild,
Fear'd that she should not long the scene outlive,
Yet bade ev'n you th' unnatural one forgive.
Till then her ailment had been slight, or none;
But fast she droop'd, and fatal pains came on:
Foreseeing their event, she dictated

And sign'd these words for you." The letter said

"THEODRIC, this is destiny above

Our power to baffle; bear it then, my love!
Rave not to learn the usage I have borne,
For one true sister left me not forlorn;
And though you're absent in another land,
Sent from me by my own well-meant command,
Your soul, I know, as firm is knit to mine,
As these clasp'd hands in blessing you now join:
Shape not imagined horrors in my fate-
Ev'n now my sufferings are not very great;
And when your grief's first transports shall subside,
I call upon your strength of soul and pride
To pay my memory, if 'tis worth the debt,
Love's glorying tribute-not forlorn regret:
I charge my name with power to conjure up
Reflection's balmy, not its bitter cup.

My pard'ning angel, at the gates of Heaven,
Shall look not more regard than you have given
To me; and our life's union has been clad

In smiles of bliss as sweet as life e'er had.

Shall gloom be from such bright remembrance cast?
Shall bitterness outflow from sweetness past?

No! imaged in the sanctuary of your breast,
There let me smile, amidst high thoughts at rest;
And let contentment on your spirit shine,
As if its peace were still a part of mine?

For if you war not proudly with your pain,
For you
I shall have worse than lived in vain
But I conjure your manliness to bear
My loss with noble spirit-not despair:
I ask you by our love to promise this,

And kiss these words, where I have left a kiss,-
The latest from my living lips for yours."

Words that will solace him while life endures:
For though his spirit from affliction's surge
Could ne'er to life, as life had been, emerge,
Yet still that mind whose harmony elate

Rang sweetness, ev'n beneath the crush of fate,—
That mind in whose regard all things were placed
In views that soften'd them, or lights that graced, —
That soul's example could not but dispense
A portion of its own bless'd influence;
Invoking him to peace, and that self-sway
Which Fortune cannot give, nor take away:

And though he mourn'd her long, 'twas with such woe,
As if her spirit watch'd him still below."

The reader will perceive that the characters of Julia and Constance are well contrasted. He will also perceive that the tale is lamentably crude and defective. Campbell can, and ought to write a better narrative than this. Our poets are content with brief flights and petty efforts. Why do they not rouse each his peculiar genius to a strenuous effort, and deserve success, by daring an important theme upon a magni

ficent scale?

For what then is this poem valuable ?-

For the transparency of its diction, and the unincumbered progress of the narrative. The subject is not overlaid with adventitious ornament, but depends for its effect upon its own. intrinsic interest, such as it is. The thoughts are tersely expressed, and shine through the language.

And here we may infer another difference between Rogers an Campbell. If Campbell polishes, he does not take to pieces. The veil of words which he weaves for his Muse's countenance is carefully and beautifully wrought. The workmanship of that of Rogers is changed so often, that scarcely any thing of the original pattern remains, and is sometimes finally so overwrought, that her aspect is concealed beneath the gorgeous covering.

There is a warmth and vigour in Campbell's verse, that keep the stream of words in a perpetual flow and glassy clearness. Rogers congeals the verbal stream to ice, with the severity of his critical tact, that upon its hardened surface he may cut what devices he will, in tasteful sport, with his skatedheel. The thought,—the sentiment is out of the question; his

concern is only with the language. "Jacqueline" is an exception to these strictures.

The veil of words should be transparent, the beautiful countenance of the divine Muse should shine through it; the stream of words should be pellucid; the thoughts, like pebbles, should be seen distinctly in the depth.

Greece, in 1823 and 1824; being a Series of Letters, and other Documents, on the Greek Revolution; written during a Visit to that Country. By the Hon. Colonel Leicester Stanhope. Illustrated by several curious Fac-similes. To which is added, the Life of Mustapha Ali. London, Sherwood

and Co.

THE title of this work is calculated to awaken intense interest. Greece, even when blasted by the withering hand of barbarian tyranny, was surrounded by a halo of glorious recollections, which, in some degree, relieved the threefold gloom of ignorance, and cowardice, and slavery: but, when we view her awaking from the lethargy of centuries, and exerting all her physical and mental energy to deliver herself from the degrading thraldom in which she has been so long held by the infidel oppressor, every feeling which is honourable to our nature is aroused in her behalf. The cause of Greece is the cause of freedom, of civilization, of literature, and of religion. Barren must be the mind, and cold the heart, of him, who does not rejoice in its triumphs.

We entered upon the perusal of the volume before us with highly-excited expectations. We had not, however, advanced far in our labour before we discovered that the title-page had misled us, and that, instead of "Greece, in 1823 and 1824," it should have run thus, "The Praise of Mr. Jeremy Bentham, with a word or two about Greece." The work is preceded by a preface from the pen of the editor, Mr. Ryan, which is really written with great intelligence and ability, and is incomparably the best part of the volume. Our readers, we are sure, will be pleased with an extract:

"The name of Greece is calculated to awaken and revive in every bosom feelings of the most pleasurable and improving kind. With our earliest years we are taught to admire the energy and pathos of her poets; and, as we advance towards mauhood, the genius of her historians, no less than the heroic actions which they have commemorated, become the favourite theme of our study. In the yet higher concerns of man, the culture of the mind and the administration of the state, the

writers of Ancient Greece rise still higher, and approach, in many points, to that sublime system of ethics which characterizes the religion professed by their descendants. That such a nation, descended from the warriors, the poets, the historians, and the philosophers, who present to us the noblest types of their respective classes, should have sunk so low in the scale of moral energy as to have become the unmurmur-· ing slaves of a race of uncivilized infidels, was a phenomenon too remarkable to be overlooked, and too humiliating not to be universally deplored. From the school-boy to the statesman, all who had imbibed the slightest taste for literature, joined in the lamentation, and could only account for this apparent deviation from the usual course of things by the supposition that the modern Greek had degenerated from the talents and magnanimity of his forefathers; that the owl of Minerva had dwindled into a beetle, and that the sword of Achilles had been again exchanged for the needle and distaff of the effeminate attendant on the court of Lycomedes."

The letters which compose the volume were written, during a short residence in Greece, by Colonel Stanhope, and are addressed to Mr. Bowring. They are very profuse in details of what the colonel did, and what he said; but they are, for the most part, as uninteresting to the general reader as the list of promotions in the London Gazette. Of the general state of Greece, of the laws, of manners, of religion, of literature, and of the useful or the liberal arts, the information afforded is very scanty indeed. Among the few passages worth extracting, is the following account of the arrangements for the administration of justice:

"Greece is divided into cantons and sub-cantons. These are under the immediate government of prefects and sub-prefects. Each community elects a president, who is under the primate of the district, and both are directed by the sub-prefect. In every canton and sub-canton there is a court of justice. The prefect communicates with the minister of the home-department. In each canton there is a secretary-general, a finance-minister, a war-minister, a naval-minister and captain of the port where required, and a minister of police. The sub-cantons have analogous establishments. Each community elects three persons, who represent the government, and act under the sub-prefect.

There is a justice of the peace in each canton. In each sub-canton, there is a court, consisting of three judges, for commercial, political, and criminal affairs. These courts are provisional. In each canton there is a tribunal of five, called Tribunal des Armes. The justice of the peace decides all matters not exceeding one hundred piastres; those under fifty piastres are not appealable. He also judges all petty cases of assault, and all questions concerning irrigation. He cannot sentence to more than three months' imprisonment, aud has the power of changing bodily punishment into a fine, which must not exceed 150 piastres. From these judgments there is no appeal. Each justice of the peace has a secretary and a registrar. No prosecution can take place without

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