In the pursuit of that prismatic ray

Of luring Hope, that, as they follow, flies,
Each,-all, enjoying ne'er the present day,
Still doating on the morrow, as it dies,
Until no morrow comes, to cheer their stony eyes!
Away, ye Cares!-and let me calm survey
The blushes of the western skies, that tell
The steps of the departure of the day;

And bid the broad pavilioned Sun farewell;
And muse, along the sweet sequestered dell,
On every charm of Nature, as I stray;
And wish for some lone, melancholy cell,

All silent, save the birds, and dashing spray,
There would I tune my harp, and meditate the lay!

My Soul delights in every sylvan spot,

Where she may find the Beauteous and the Grand,
And trace the semblance of her inmost thought
On every work of her Creator's hand!

But not to ine 'tis given to command

My flight o'er wave, rock, mountain, wood, and wild,
Nor in the sylvan shades of my own mother land
To learn the things dear to poetic child;

In Thracian coil for aye, and City strife turmoiled !”

In the first canto, entitled the Hermitage, the peaceful retreat of Almar, and his young friend Edwy, is broken in upon by a lawless band, which is thus well described:

"Scarce to the emotions of his mind
Had Edwy given relief,

And Almar old had scarce rejoin'd
Th' ejaculation brief,

Ere came the Band, with joyous rage,
And covered all the space
Which spread before the Hermitage
With torches glaring rays,

That shed a short and cowering light
Mingled along the mist of night,
And shewed each griesly feature clear;
The lank red beard, the shaggy hair,
The rugged brows that rigid lour
O'er eyes of unrelenting power,
That seemed as never yet a tear
Had claimed its proper channel there,
But spake their souls of sternest steel,
And hearts severe that scorned to feel!
Their numerous feet tread down the grass,
And brush away the dew;

Their shouts disturb that grove, alas!
Which nought but peace ere knew.

Not with more noise the echoing cave
-When from on high the tumbling wave
Dashes down cataracts headlong steep,
In thunder, on the misty deep,

Before its mouth-resounds the roar
From many an answering fracture hoar;
While all its trees the storm-blast meet,
That doth their trembling branches greet
Full roughly, and their wakened voice
Blend with the complicated noise !"

The author is fond of sentiment and reflection; in many instances, these are expressed with much strength and pathos. The following address to sleep will justify our encomium : "Sweet Sleep! the balm to toil-the dew That doth our morning strength renew; Sweet Spirit of Forgetfulness,

The unfabled Lethe of Distress ;

Blest soother of the Peasant's pillow,

Hushed by the night flies to his rest ;-
Companion, o'er the stormy billow,
Of the wet Seaboy on the mast,
Cradled on surges, and rocked by the blast
To and fro, full giddily ;-

While Death is awaked by the summons so rude,
He heedeth it not, and his slumber's as good,

As danger were not nigh;

And when, like the Sun, he springs blithe from his bed,
Knows nought of the night, nor the feeling of dread:-
But oh, thou hast been by rude tempest and rage,
Startled from this lone Hermitage."

The history of Almar, as related by himself to Edwy, is exceedingly well told; it has much nerve and beauty. After his daughter, Arabel, has married against his consent, (daughters will do so even unto this day,) he exclaims,

"They wed!-And then with passion wild,

Oh, horrible!-I cursed my Child,

And since that she had broke the band
That links the child to sire's command,
I wished that Heaven would break from her
The blessings due to many a prayer;
Yea, that each prayer of mine might turn
To curses that would deeply burn!
I bade her from my halls depart,

With a blank desolated heart,
That she might feel the pangs I felt,
Which rived my heart, unused to melt,
To know my nobly ancestry
Debased to such a slave as he!

But why should I pursue this theme,
Full of distraction in extreme ?
My vanity and pride expose,

That uttered words so full of woes?

Ah! though my heart unused was then
To melt, yet since I've wept amain.
And when Man weeps his pangs are great!
Tears soothe a Woman for her fate,
But when they dew stern Manhood's eye,
Oh! they are torn in agony,

With violence from the soul, as they
Had rent it from its trammelled clay.
At once they burst its deepest spring,
And leave the heart a broken thing,
Blighted and severed; to the tomb

Bent in dejection's deepest gloom!"

Arabel, who had been seized by the robber, is, by the interference of the saint, rescued from the grasp of the spoiler, and her restoration to the arms of her husband is thus feelingly depicted :

"Thus snatched from fate, it seemed a vision

Of Fancy, bathed in dreams Elysian,

That from the ruthless grave restored

Her lost and all-lamented Lord:
And still she looked from her assay
To find him melt a shade away.
She feels him-doubtful to explore,
With phrenzied gaze-each feature o'er:
He moves his lips to hers are prest-
His heart throbs on her heaving breast-
She is unutterably blest!

No word might ease the extatic weight
That on her very spirit sate—

One thrilling shriek burst wildly forth,
And bent her helpless to the earth-
She shivered-sank-but not to ground,

Her Husband's arms have clasped her round;
Her head reclines upon his bosom,

As on its stem the withering blossom-
So sad-so wild-so still was she-

So motionless and silent he

They seemed but marble forms of life

The Husband, and swoon-sunken Wife!"

Succeeding a scene of strife and bloodshed, the following comes upon us like a tranquil evening after a stormy day. It is a fair specimen of the author's powers of description; and the volume contains many such, which prove his claim to the title of a poet :

"Now all is calm-a calm so dead
It falls with cold and heavy dread-
Such lingering sense of terror still,
When the wild storm had blown its fill.
As presses on the shipman's soul,
That with the tempest's surging roll,
Was wrapt up to the utmost pole !--
Such as the peasant well may feel
After the solemn thunder-peal,
When, 'mid the wilds, the general still
Settles on wood, and mead, and hill;
And not a whisper of the breeze
Wakens the leaf of aspen trees!
And not a motion of the stream
Disturbs the silence of the dream,
That seems each object to invest,
As life suspended were in rest.”

One extract more, and our limits compel us to conclude:

"But, hark! far other sound
Than mortal minstrelsy,
Breathes on the silence round,
Descending from the sky-

Distant, yet sweet, the warbled strings
Lift up the spirit's charmed wings,
Consenting to the heavenly tone,
That whispers visit to our zone.
So far above this earthly sphere,
Seems not to meet the natural ear,
The strain, but dulcet converse find
In secret with the unseen mind.-
But now the air becomes as balm,
And softens to serener calm;
And, lo! a lucid radiance bland
Invests the circuit where they stand-
Louder and nearer swells the song,

Still more distinct, and full, and strong;

Ravished the heart to extacy,

With such full tide of harmony!

Again the maze of music, blended

With that sweet vision of light, ascended

To the empyrean realm of joy,

The happy dwelling of ST. LOY:

And, as they reached the gates of day,

Like the soft zephyr died away,

And left the soul entranced to dream

That still she hears the harmonious theme!"

The volume concludes with some minor poems of considerable merit. "The Farewell to Tottenham," and the "Lament

of the Bard," we have read with considerable pleasure. The Sonnets are also good. We have some fondness for the sonnet; and we know no better mode of embodying a single thought; and those before us are superior to many we have seen. The author is evidently a poet, and one of considerable power. He has sentiment, feeling, and a love of nature, which we augur will enable him to merit the public approbation. We hope to meet him again. In the mean time, we advise him to condense his powers, rather than to amplify, and the effect will be the greater.

The Hamiltonian System.-Mr. Hamillon's Appeal.

ALTHOUGH Mr. Hamilton has said, that he is left "without an avowed, or at least a successful, opposer," and, on that account, that the arguments he has employed in favour of his system are completely irrefragable, we will take the liberty of presenting a few observations upon what appear to us evident inconsistencies in his statements. In this we beg to assure Mr. Hamilton, that we wish not to appear actuated by "inveterate prejudice," "interested jealousy," "the cavils of ignorance" or "self-interest;" nor do we wish to employ any "frothy declamations of conceited interest, or the peevish personalities of interested malignity;" but candidly to consider, as far as our humble abilities will permit, the opinions brought before our notice.

In reply to the gentlemen who have noticed his system, Mr. Hamilton has displayed so much astuteness in repudiating the interpretations put upon it, that we should be glad if he would tell us what we are really to understand by the regulations he lays down. But, if he is so convinced of the excellence of his system, it would prove his conviction in a much stronger degree, if, instead of making verbal objections to his antagonists' unimportant lapses, he would meet them fully upon principle, and not on form.

To avoid, therefore, as much as we can, the accusation of misunderstanding Mr. H., we will merely examine his own description of the system, and his Appeal.

Mr. Hamilton, at the commencement, states, with regard to his success at the different universities of America, "ladies and gentlemen of sixty and upwards, and children of eight years, and even younger, the parent and the child seated in