Her cares and sorrows never dim thy brow, And to the captive ne'er thy tears hast given; Go! revel and carouse each coming morrow! Thou knowest her not, no, never canst thou Ye two can never wander hand in hand! Thou canst not name her name,--hast not the for titles and orders; the learned pedantrythe affected piety of the despotic monarchsthe laws against the oppression of animals while the oppression of men is practisedthe modern heathenism, &c. &c., all have the laugh directed against them. We may take, perhaps, the following as fair specimens of verses quite dreadful where a paternal government exists and a free press does not : ON THE WALHALLA. [In which the King of Bavaria had assembled the busts and statues of the great men of Germany, heroes, patriots, and reformers; Luther, and such little men, however, excepted.] Hail to thee, thou lofty hall, Of German greatness, German glory! Hail to you, ye heroes all, Of ancient and of modern story. Oh! ye heroes in the hall, Were ye but alive as once! The king prefers you, stone and bronze! LAMENTATION FOR THE GOLDEN AGE. Would our bottles but grow deeper! But not for us, we are commanded Of Hoffmann von Fallersleben's Unpolitical Songs, as he calls them, it would be impossible to give any just idea by specimens. His two little volumes consist of a multitude of short snatches of verse, any one of which, taken singly, would disappoint the most moderate expectation. Of the actual brevity of his poems, some idea may be formed from the fact, that in his four hundred pages he has upwards of nine hundred pieces. But if his poems are short, his words are sometimes Long enough, of which take a sample-Steuerverweigerungsverfassungsmässigberechtigt! -meaning a man who is exempt by the constitution from the payment of taxes. It is by the whole that Hoffmann must be judged; and yet, truly, when we have gone through up a mass of national follies : the whole, we Englishmen wonder what there can be in them to frighten such a military monarch as the King of Prussia, and induce him not only to expel the poet, a man of learning, and universally esteemed, from his post and livelihood, but also to forbid the admission of any works into his kingdom out of the shop of the publishers of this and such other things. It is true, there is a good deal of wit and epigrammatic smartness, but it is so fine, and so good-humored, that it does not seem, by any means, very formidable to us. Then his little innocent squibs are thrown out, not only against government follies, but the follies of his countrymen in general, and may justify his title, for if not entirely unpolitical songs, they are by no means merely political. The Confederation; the Zoll-Verein; the censorship; the passion But ah! our bottles still decline! In this, one of his larger efforts, he sums GERMAN NATIONAL WEALTH. Hurra! hurra! hurra! hurra! What shall we take to our new land? Hurra! hurra! hurra! hurra! What shall we take to our new land? Hurra! hurra! hurra! hurra! Hurra! hurra! hurra! hurra! What shall we take to our new land? Hurra! hurra! hurra! hurra! We're off unto America! What shall we take to our new land? and funeral, Passports, and wander-books great and small; Of a far different calibre and character are the black songs of Benedikt Dalei. Who Benedikt Dalei is we know not, but his songs have all the feeling and effect of the genuine effusions of a Catholic priest who has passed through the dispensations which he describes. He traces, or rather retraces, every painful position and stage in the life of the solitary priest who possesses a feeling heart. The trials, the temptations, the pangs which his unnatural vow and isolated existence heap upon him, amid the social relationships and enjoyments of his fellow-men. The domestic circle, the happy group of father, mother, and merry children; the electric touch of youthful love which unites two hearts for ever; the wedding, the christening, the funeral, all have for him their inexpressible bitterness. The perplexities, the cares, the remorse, the madness which, spite of the power of the Church, of religion, and of the most ardent faith and devotion, have, through the singular and unparalleled position of the Catholic priest, made him often a walking death, are all sketched with a master's hand, or more properly, perhaps, a sufferer's heart. The poet calls loudly on prince and prelate for the abolition of that clerical oath of celibacy which has been to him and to thousands a burning chain, every link of which has its own peculiar torture. When we look into those horrors which, spite of all the secrecy and the suppression which Church and State have been able to heap over them, have transpired in the poet's own country, we do not wonder at the intense vehemence of his appeal. In one most extraordinary ode he collects all the terrors and griefs of his subject. It is 'The Song of Celibacy,' which is sung by bands of the souls of priests as they pass in a tempest over a wild heath, in which each successively pours forth the burden of his dread experience. The chorus and construction of this remarkable ode reminds us strongly of Coleridge's War Eclogue. We shall, however, prefer giving a specimen or two from those gentler subjects in which he mingles with his melancholy such sweet touches of external nature. ENVIABLE POVERTY. I glanced into the harvest field, And in the shadow of the hedge I hear full many a merry sound, Where the stout, brimming water-jug From mouth to mouth goes round. About the parents, in the grass, See! God himself from heaven spreads A laughing infant's sugar lip, From breast to breast, from arm to arm, And strengthened thus for farther toil, THE WALK. I went to walk on Sunday, I strolled through greenest corn-fields, The heaven so softly azure, And every where was youth and maiden, They watched the yellowing harvest, The larks, how they singing hovered, In the locks of the blithe youngsters Ah! I heard song and laughter, Were I free and young once more! The autobiography of the Catholic priest, sketched by Benedikt Dalei, is enough to make a heart bleed. The young priest hears, amid the choir of singing voices, one voice which goes to his heart. He beholds the singer in her youthful beauty, and loves-she loves him. But the vow! It has separated them for ever! He marries her at the altar to his mortal enemy. He baptizes her child. He sees her in her garden as he stands at his window, playing with a child which is not his. She comes to confession, and confesses her misery, and calls on him for help. What help? he himself is in despair. He preaches to his people of the blessings of domestic life, and bleeds inwardly; he buries the dead, and wishes that the corpse were his. He dreads madness or self-murder, yet, living to be old, draws this moving picture of men! The last and the most significant of these poets whom we can now mention, is Herwegh. This young writer last year made a sort of political and triumphant tour in Germany, which excited a strong sensation throughout the whole country, and the fame of which was even wafted by the newspapers to England. His volume marks a new epoch in the progress of political feeling in Germany. Perhaps he does not equal in poetic genius either Count Auersperg or Dingelstedt, but he surpasses them both in a fiery and unrestrained temperament He does not stop to dally with imagination, to tie lovers' knots of delicate fancies and rainbow hues; to scatter light and stinging epigrams on this or that minor folly; but he bursts forth hot and dauntless at once on the great evil of the nation, and the absurdity of its tame tolerance. He is a spirit of fiery zeal, and declares it frankly. He rejects all waiting and temporizing. It is enough for him that the nation is suffering and ought to be free; that the princes are false to their vows, and ought to be made to feel it. To the regular common-place of the age Thou art young, thou must not speak, Let the fire grow somewhat cold. Thou art young, thy deeds are wild; Learn, my son, first self-denial; And find how useful is the yoke. He replies full of youth's wisdom,-that by whose fervor chains are molten, and nations rescued from the frost of custom, -"Ah, too cunning gentlemen! there you paint your own portraits, prisoners! But you guardians of the past, who then shall build up the future! What is left you but the protection of our arms? Who shall love your daughters? Who defend your honor? Despise not youth, even when it speaks the loudest. Alas! how often has your caution, your virtue, sinned against humanity?" This burst of zeal, which has been echoed by a shout of many thousand voices from every quarter of Germany, betrays, as we have said, a new epoch; tells that the leaven has leavened a very considerable portion of the popular mass. The young, at least, are grown weary of promises never fulfilled, and waiting that leads to nothing. The doctrines of the earlier school are renounced as false and delusive. Count Auersperg exclaimed: Shall the sword then be our weapon? No, the word, the light, the will! For the joyful, peaceful conqueror, is the proudest conqueror still! And every succeeding political bard prolonged the cry - "The Word is omnipotent!" But this is the cry no longer. It is not the Word but the Sword! The Word, say they, has deceived; the Sword must hew a way to freedom. This is the war-cry with which Herwegh broke forth, and to which came a host of jubilant echoes : Oh! all whose hands a hilt can span, One contest there is yet in store, Hither, ye nations! hither flow, Around your standard hie! For Freedom is our general now, And Forward! is our cry. The true creed is, according to him, no longer Love and Patience, but Hate! Hate is the true patriotism, the true saving faith! THE HYMN OF HATE. Forth! forth! out over hill and dale The sword shall be their mate; Love cannot save us, cannot shake And break our hated chains! Too long has love our spirits bound, Wherever yet there beats a heart, Hate be its sole desire; Dry wood stands every where to start Ye with whom Freedom yet remains, Give quenchless battle and debate On earth to Tyranny, And holier shall be our hate Than any love can be. Until our hands in ashes fall, The sword shall be their mate; We've loved too long; come one and all, And let us soundly hate! But enough of this blood-breathing clangor, of these war trumpets, of which we have introduced only such fragmental notes as were necessary for the faithful illustration of our subject. Fain would we see nations abandoning the hope of the sword, and learning to trust in the moral power of truth and of advancing knowledge. Yet when we see how completely a great and intellectual nation has been caught in the subtle net of policy, how princes have learned to despise their promises, and how the moral stamina of the people has been undermined by dependence on office, and by the fear of police, we do not wonder, we can only deplore. The youth of Germany see all this. They see how deeply the poison of government coercion and suppression of free opinion has penetrated into the moral nature of the public; what sequacity, what subserviency, what prostration of all that is great, and daring, and generous, it has infused into the social and intellectual frame; how infidelity in religion has followed in the train of that philosophy to which the German mind has turned as to its only free region of speculation; and they have no hope but in the sword. In any moral power their faith is shaken. They doubt its very existence in the public mind. They hope nothing from the free concession of the princes; they hope as little from the vast mass of their dependents,that is, of half the nation lulled in a Circean slumber of official comfort, but they know that breach of faith and defrauded hopes have spread a wide substratum of discontent; route from Tajura, at the mouth of the Red Sea, that the great powers Prussia and Austria to Ankober and Angolalla, the capitals of the are powers made up of the most heterogeneous fragments, and they hope that a spark of warlike fire breaking out some day in some one quarter-they care not where-may raise a general flame, and national liberty soar up out of the conflagration. How far this hope may be realized, we leave Time to decide. Meanwhile, on the one hand, the governments stand strong on the system which we have described; and, on the other, the triumphant career of Herwegh, and the sale of five editions of his volume in less than two years, prove that the spirit of popular liberty is making rapid strides. Even the King of Prussia, with his affectation of liberality, thought fit to give Herwegh an audience while he was in Berlin, though, with his Eastern and Western Christian kingdom of Shoa. He ascertained that Messrs. Combes and Tamisier had been at Shoa, and were consequently the first European visitors since the time of the Portuguese Jesuits. Monsieur Dufey came next, but he died at Jidda: then the missionaries, Krapf and Isemberg; then Rochet D'Hericourt, and finally himself, being the first Englishman. Three other travellers had perished in the country, Mr. Airton, and Messrs. Fain and Kielmaer. Dr. Beke ascertained that Ankober was 8200 feet above the sea, and Angolalla 8400. From Shoa, Dr. Beke travelled to Kok Fara, in the province of Gedem, never before visited by any European. On this excursion he determined the Waterished in 10° 11′ N. in a swampy Hawash, a river flowing to the eastward to the Mohammedan kingdom of Aussa, where it loses itself in a lake, supposed to be 150 miles in cir moor, between the Abai, or Blue Nile, and the usual inconsistency, he afterwards ordered cumference. Dr. Beke describes the countries him to quit the city. Other princes, follow- he traversed as varying in character from the ing his example, raised the consequence of the young poet, by warning him out of their territories, and he returned to his Swiss strong hold; where, however, he sate himself down in additional strength and comfort, having won a rich wife while in the Prussian capital. The success of his poems, the fire of their contagious spirit, and, above all, the éclat of his tour, have, as might be expected, given birth to fresh young poets and fresh issues of songs, which, however, have not yet acquired sufficient importance to be included in this group. THE PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY IN THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA. From the Court Journal. THE progress of geographical discovery in the interior of Africa has always excited more interest and curiosity than in any other portion of the globe. This is probably owing to the mystery which veils the whole of the central portions of that great continent, combined with the great fatality which has so frequently been attendant upon exploratory expeditions. But "the tide of exploration," said the President of the Royal Geographical Society, in his last anniversary address, "has set in late years in a remarkable manner towards Abyssinia," and as it is from that country, and by the comparative cool and healthy upland and highland districts, that we can most hope for a successful exploration of the interior, so it is also a remarkable fact, that after so many attempts, and the sacrifice of so many lives, the present appears to be the moment when the greatest promises of success are held out to us. Early in the year 1841, Dr. Beke traced the most absolute sterility, to the most luxuriant vegetation. He speaks of large plantations of capsicums and excellent cotton, of rich corn-fields, and fertile meadows, the whole studded with trees, and divided by hedge-rows of jasmine, roses, and honey-suckle. Mr. Rochet d'Hericourt has published the details of his travels in Abyssinia in the Bulletin de la Societé de Geographie de Paris. He of the countries through describes the character which he passed, and represents the kingdom of Shoa as full of beautiful landscapes, decorated by a splendidly varied and vigorous vegetation. But his narrative wants astronomical positions, and other positive data. It is understood that this gentleman has again started for Abyssinia, supplied with the necessary instruments. of In 1842, the British Mission, under Major Harris, penetrated from Tajura to Shoa, where they spent upwards a year. The results of this mission have just been pub published under the title of "Highlands of Æthiopia;" a work which has disappointed the expectations of many, as amidst an unusual parade of language, containing little real information. The previous favorable reports of the kingdom of Shoa, met. however, with confirmation; and the information gleaned by the naturalists of the party is very valuable. Dr. Beke had obtained previous information regarding the existence southward of Abyssinia of a great river, called Go-jub, which flows into the Indian Ocean; and major Harris obtained further information regarding this great stream, which, as forming a line of water communication with the interior, may ultimately be turned to good account, is an object of considerable importance. It is represented as being three miles broad, and navigated by large canoes, and is supposed to be the same as the Zebee of the missionary Antonio Fernandez. Major Harris also heard of a hitherto unknown Christian population. having a powerful monarch at its head, south of Kafla, and designated as Susa; and it is remarkable that, in the seventh century, the knowledge of Æthiopia, acquired |