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There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, soar;

Note 2, page 3, col. 1. No more to part, to mingle tears no more!

Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! And, as the softening hand of Time endears

When a traveller, who was surveying the ruins of The joys and sorrows of our infant-years,

Rome, expressed a desire to possess some relic of its So there the soul, released from human strife,

ancient grandeur, Poussin, who attended him, stooped 27 Smiles at the little cares and ills of life;

down, and gathering up a handful of earth shining Its lights and shades, its sunshine and its showers;

with small grains of porphyry, “ Take this home,' As at a dream that charm'd her vacant hours !

said he, “ for your

abinet; and say boldly, Questa è Oft may the spirits of the dead descend

Roma Antica."
To watch the silent slumbers of a friend;
To hover round his evening-walk unseen,

Note 3, page 3, col. 1.
And hold sweet converse on the dusky green;

The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep. To hail the spot where first their friendship grew, Every man, like Gulliver in Lilliput, is fastened to And heaven and nature open'd to their view! some spot of earth, by the thousand small threads Oft, when he trims his cheerful hearth, and sees which habit and association are continually stealing A smiling circle emulous to please;

over him. Of these, perhaps, one of the strongest is There may these gentle guests delight to dwell, here alluded to. And bless the scene they loved in life so well! When the Canadian Indians were once solicited

Oh thou! with whom my heart was wont to share to emigrate, “What!" they replied, “ shall we say to From Reason's dawn each pleasure and each care; the bones of our fathers, Arise, and go with us into With whom, alas! I fondly hoped to know

a foreign land ?" The humblo walks of happiness below; If thy blest nature now unites above

Note 4, page 3, col. 1.

So, when he breathed his firm yet fond adieu.
An angel's pity with a brother's love,
Still o'er my life preserve thy mild control,

See Cook's first voyage, book i, chap. 16.
Correct my views, and elevate my soul;

Another very affecting instance of local attachment Grant me thy peace and purity of mind,

is related of his iellow-countryman Potaveri, who Devout yet cheerful, active yet resign'd;

came to Europe with M. de Bougainville. See les Grant me, like thee, whose heart knew no disguise, Jardins, chant ii. Whose blameless wishes never aim'd to rise,

Note 5, page 3, col. 2. To meet the changes Time and Chance present,

So Scotia's Queen, etc. With modest dignity and calm content.

Elle se leve sur son lit, et se met à contempler When thy last breath, ere Nature sunk to rest, la France encore, et tant qu'elle peut.—BRANTÔME. Thy mcek submission to thy God express'd; When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled,

Note 6, page 3, col. 2. A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed;

Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire. What to thy soul its glad assurance gave,

To an accidental association may be ascribed some Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave? of the noblest efforts of human genius. The HistoThe sweet Remembrance of unblemish'd youth, rian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth! first conceived his design among the ruins of the

Hail, MEMORY, hail! in thy exhaustless mine Capitol; and to the tones of a Welsh harp are we From age to age unnumber'd treasures shine! indebted for the Bard of Gray. Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!

Note 7, page 3, col. 2.

Hence home-felt pleasure, etc
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone;
The only pleasures we can call our own.

Who can sufficiently admire the affectionate atLighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die,

tachment of Plutarch, who thus concludes his enu. If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky;

meration of the advantages of a great city to men of If but a beam of sober Reason play,

letters? “As to myself, I live in a little town; and I Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away!

choose to live there, lest it should become still less.” But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power,

Vit. Dem. Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour?

Note 8, page 3, col. 2.
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight,

For this young Foscari, etc.
Pour round her path a stream of living light;
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest,

He was suspected of murder, and at Venice susWhere Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest!

picion is good evidence. Neither the interest of the Doge, his father, nor the intrepidity of conscious innocence, which he exhibited in the dungeon and on

the rack, could procure his acquittal. He was banNOTES.

ished to the island of Candia for life.

But here his resolution failed him. At such a dis

tance from home he could not live; and, as it was a Note 1, page 2, col. 2.

criminal offence to solicit the intercession of a foreign Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear.

prince, in a fit of despair he addressed a letter to the I came to the place of my birth and cried, “ The Duke of Milan, and intrusted it to a wretch whose friends of my youth, where are they?”—And an echo perfidy, he knew, would occasion his being remanded answered “ Where are they ?"_From an Arabic MS. / a prisoner to Venice.


Note 9, page 3, col. 2.

chateau at Richelieu, he sacrificed its symmetry to And hence the charm historic scenes impart:

preserve the room in which he was born-Mém. de Whatever withdraws us from the power of our

Mlle de Montpensier, i, 27. senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the

An attachment of this nature is generally the charfuture, predominate over the present, advances us in acteristic of a benevolent mind ; and a long acquaintthe dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and far from ance with the world cannot always extinguish it.

“ To a friend,” says John, Duke of Buckingham my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct e indifferent and unmoved over any ground which“ I will expose my weakness : I am oftener missing has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. a pretty gallery in the old house I pulled down, than That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism pleased with a saloon which I built in its stead, would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or though a thousand times better in all respects." —See whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins his Letter to the D. of Sh. of lona.—Johnsox.

This is the language of the heart; and will re

mind the reader of that good-humored remark in one Note 10, page 3, col. 2.

of Pope's letters -" I should hardly care to have an And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell.

old post pulled up, that I remembered ever since I The Paraclete, founded by Abelard, in Champagne. was a child."

Nor did the Poet feel the charm more forcibly than Note 11, page 3, col. 2.

his Editor. See Hurd's Life of Warburton, 51, 99. 'Twas ever thus. As now at Virgil's tomb.

The Author of Telemachus has illustrated this Vows and pilgrimages are not peculiar to the re- subject, with equal fancy and feeling, in the story of ligious enthusiast. Silius Italicus performed annual Alibée, Persan. ceremonies on the mountain of Posilipo; and it was

Note 16, page 4, col. 1. there that Boccaccio, quasi da un divino estro inspi

Why great Navarre, etc. rato, resolved to dedicate his life to the Muses. That amiable and accomplished monarch, Henry

the Fourth of France, made an excursion from his Note 12, page 3, col. 2.

camp, during the long siege of Laon, to dine at a So Tully paused amid the wrecks of Timo.

house in the forest of Folambray; where he had When Cicero was quæstor in Sicily, he discovered often been regaled, when a boy, with fruit, milk, and the tomb of Archimedes by its mathematical inscrip- new cheese ; and in revisiting which he promised tion-Tusc. Quæst. v. 3.

himself great pleasure.— Mém. de Sully. Note 13, page 3, col. 2.

Note 17, page 4, col. 1.

When Diocletian's self-corrected mind. Say why the pensive widow loves to weep. The influence of the associating principle is finely there amused himself with building, planting, and

Diocletian retired into his native province, and exemplified in the faithful Penelope, when she sheds

gardening. His answer to Maximian is deservedly tears over the bow of Ulysses.-Od. xxi, 55.

celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man Note 14, page 3, col. 2.

to reassume the reins of government, and the ImpeIf chance be hears the song so sweetly wild.

rial purple. He rejected the temptation with a smile The celebrated Ranz des Vaches; “cet air si chéri of pity, calmly observing, “ thai if he could show des Suisses qu'il fut défendu sous peine de mort de Maximian the cabbages which he had planted with le jouer dans leurs troupes, parce qu'il faisoit fondre his own hands at Salona, he should no longer be en larmes, déserter ou mourir ceux qui l'entendoient, urged to relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for tant il excitoit en cux l'ardent désir de revoir leur the pursuit of power.”—GIBBON. patrie.”—ROUSSEAU.

Note 18, page 4, col. 1. The maladie de pays is as old as the human heart. Say, when contentious Charles renounced a throne. JUVENAL's little cup-bearer

When the emperor Charles V. had executed his Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem,

memorable resolution, and had set out for the monEt casulam, et notos tristis desiderat hædos. astery of St. Justus, he stopped a few days at Ghent, And the Argive, in the heat of battle,

says his historian, to indulge that tender and pleas Dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.

ant melancholy, which arises in ihe mind of every

man in the decline of life, on visiting the place of Note 15, page 4, col. 2.

his nativity, and viewing the scenes and objects fa Say why Vespasian loved his Sabine farm.

miliar to him in his early youth.—ROBERTSON. This emperor, according to Suetonius, constantly

Note 19, page 4, col. 1. passed the summer in a small villa near Reate, where

Then did his horse the homeward track descry. he was born, and to which he would never add any The memory of the horse forms the groundwork embellishment, ne quid scilicet oculorum consuetudini of a pleasing little romance of the twelfth century deperiret.—SUET. in Vit. Vesp. cap. ii.

entitled, Lai du Palefroy vair."-See Fabliaux du A similar instance occurs in the life of the venera- XII. siècle. ble Pertinax, as related by J. Capitolinus. Posteaquam Ariosto likewise introduces it in a passage full of in Liguriam venit, multis agris coemptis, tabernam truth and nature. When Bayardo meets Angelica in patemam, manente forma priore, infinitis ædificiis cir- the forest, cumdedit.-Hist. August. 54.

Va mansueto alla Donzella, And it is said of Cardinal Richelieu, that, when he

Che in Albracca il servia già di sua mano. built his magnificent palace on the site of the old family

Orlando Furioso, canto i. 75 3


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c. 5.

Note 20, page 4, col. 1.

She tells of time misspent, of comfort lost,

Or fair occasions gore for ever by; Sweet bird! thy truth shall Haarlem's walls attest.

Or hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely croes'd,

Of many a cause to wish, yet fear to die; During the siege of Haarlem, when that city was

For what, except th' instinctive fear reduced to the last extremity, and on the point of

Lest she survive, detains me here,

When "all the life of life" is fled ? opening its gates to a base and barbarous enemy, a

What, but the deep inherent dread, design was formed to relieve it; and the intelligence

Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign, was conveyed to the citizens by a letter which was And realize the hell that priests and beldams feign? tied under the wing of a pigeon.--THUANUS, lib. lv.

Note 25, page 6, col. 1.

Hast thou through Eden's wild-wood vales pursued. The same messenger was employed at the siege of Mutina, as we are informed by the elder Pliny.

On the road-side, between Penrith and Appleby, Hist. Nal. x. 37

there stands a small pillar with this inscription :

“ This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann Note 21, page 4, col. 2.

Countess-Dowager of Pembroke, etc. for a memorial Hark! the bee, etc.

of her last parting, in this place, with her good and This little animal, from the extreme convexity of pious mother, Margaret, Countess-Dowager of Cum

berland, on the 2d of April, 1616; in memory whereher eye, cannot see many inches before her.

of she hath left an annuity of 41. to be distributed to Note 22, page 5, col. 1.

the poor of the parish of Brougham, every 2d day

of April for ever, upon the stone-table placed hard These still exist, etc.

by. Laus Deo!" There is a future Existence even in this world, an The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland, Existence in the hearts and minds of those who shall and rises in the wildest part of Westmoreland. live after us. It is in reserve for every man, how

Note 26, page 6, col. 1. ever obscure ; and his portion, if he be diligent, must

O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd. be equal to his desires For in whose remembrance

Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity: can we wish to hold a place, but such as know, and are known by us? These are within the sphere of though he ever retained a pleasing, however melanour influence, and among these and their descend-choly, sense of the signal merit of Ossory. “ I would

not exchange my dead son,” said he, “ for any living ants we may live evermore.

son in Christendom."—HUME. It is a state of rewards and punishments; and, like

The same sentiment is inscribed on Miss Dolman's that revealed to us in the Gospel, has the happiest

urn at the Leasowes. influence on our lives. The latter excites us to gain

“ Heu, quanto minus est cum the favor of God, the former to gain the love and reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse !" estcem of wise and good men; and both lead to the

Note 27, page 6, col. 2. same end ; for, in framing our conceptions of the High on exulting wing the heath-cock rose. Deity, we only ascribe to Him exalted degrees of This bird is remarkable for his exultation during Wisdom and Goodness.

the spring. Note 23, page 5, col. 2.

Note 28, page 6, col. 2.

Derwent's clear mirror.
Yet still how sweet the soothings of his art!

Keswick-Lake in Cumberland.
The astronomer chalking his figures on the wall,

Note 29, page 7, col. 2. in Hogarth's view of Bedlam, is an admirable ex

Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove. emplification of this idea.–See the Rake's Progress,

A small island covered with trees, among which plate 8.

were formerly the ruins of a religious house.
Note 24, page 6, col. 1.

Note 30, page 7, col. 2.
Turns but to start, and gazes but to sigh!

When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew. The following stanzas are said to have been writ- In a lake surrounded with mountains, the agitaten on a blank leaf of this Poem. They present sotions are often violent and momentary. The winds affecting a reverse of the picture, that I cannot resist blow in gusts and eddies; and the water no sooner the opportunity of introducing them here.

swells, than it subsides.—See Bourn's Hist. of West. Pleasures of Memory!-oh! supremely blest.

And justly proud beyond a Poet's praise :

Note 31, page 7, col. 2.
If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast
Contain, indeed, the subject of thy lays !

To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere.
By me how envied !-for to me,

The several degrees of angels may probably have
The herald still of misery,

larger views, and some of them be endowed with Memory makes her influence known

capacities able to retain together, and constantly set By sighs, and tears, and grief alone. I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong

before them, as in one picture, all their past know. The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral song. ledge at once.-LOCKE.

Luman Life.


Yet, all forgot, how oft the eye-lids close, Introduction-Ringing of bells in a neighboring Vil

. How oft, as dead, on the warm turf we lie,

And from the slack hand drops the gather'd rose! lage on the birth of an heir-General Reflections while many an emmet comes with curious eye ; on Human Life—The Subject proposed-Child. And on her nest the watchful wren sits by! hood-Youth-Manhood-Love


Nor do we speak or move, or hear or see; mestic Happiness and Affliction-War—Peace- so like what once we were, and once again shall be' Civil Dissension-Retirement from active Life

And say, how soon, where, blithe as innocent, Old Age and its Enjoyments—Conclusion.

The boy at sun-rise whistled as he went,

An aged pilgrim on his staff shall lean, The lark has sung his carol in the sky: Tracing in vain the footsteps o'er the green; The bees have humm'd their noon-tide lullaby. The man himself how alter'd, not the scene! Still in the vale the village-bells ring round, Now journeying home with nothing but the name Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound:

Wayworn and spent, another and the same!
For now the caudle-cup is circling there,

No eye observes the growth or the decay:
Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, To-day we look as we did yesterday ;
And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire

And we shall look to-morrow as to-day :
The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

Yet while the loveliest smiles, her locks grow grey! A few short years and then these sounds shall hail And in her glass could she but see the face The day again, and gladness fill the vale ;

She'll see so soon amidst another race,
So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, How would she shrink !-Returning from afar,
Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

After some years of travel, some of war,
Then the huge or shall yield the broad sirloin ; Within his gate Ulysses stood unknown
The ale, now brew'd, in foods of amber shine : Before a wife, a father, and a son!
And, basking in the chimney's ample blaze,

And such is Human Life, the general theme. 'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,

Ah, what at best, what but a longer dream? The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled, Though with such wild romantic wanderings fraught, ** *T was on these knees he sate so oft and smiled.” Such forms in Fancy's richest coloring wrought,

And soon again shall music swell the breeze; That, like the visions of a love-sick brain, Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees Who would not sleep and dream them o'er again? Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung, Our pathway leads but to a precipice ;(1) And violets scatter'd round; and old and young, And all must follow, fearful as it is! In every cottage-porch with garlands green, From the first step 't is known; but—No delay! Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene; On, 't is decreed. We tremble and obey. While, her dark eyes declining, by his side A thousand ills beset us as we go. Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride. —“Still, could I shun the fatal gulf”—Ah, no, And once, alas, nor in a distant hour,

"Tis all in vain-the inexorable law! Another voice shall come from yonder tower Nearer and nearer to the brink we draw. When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen, Verdure springs up; and fruits and flowers invite, And weepings heard where only joy has been ; And groves and fountains—all things that delight When by his children borne, and from his door " Oh I would stop, and linger if I might!"Slowly departing to return no more,

We fly; no resting for the foot we find; (2) He rests in holy earth with them that went before. And dark before, all desolate behind!

And such is Human Life ; so gliding on, At length the brink appears—but one step more! It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!

We faint-On, on Swe falter-and 't is o'er! Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange,

Yet here high passions, high desires unfold, As full, methinks, of wild and wondrous change, Prompting to noblest deeds; here links of gold As any that the wandering tribes require,

Bind soul to soul; and thoughts divine inspire Stretch'd in the desert round their evening-fire ; A thirst unquenchable, a holy fire any sung of old in hall or bower

That will not, cannot but with life expire!
To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour! Now, seraph-wing'd, among the stars we soar;

Born in a trance, we wake, observe, inquire; Now distant ages, like a day, explore,
And the green earth, the azure sky admire. And judge the act, the actor now no more ;
Of Elfin-size-for ever as we run,

Or, in a thankless hour condemn'd to live,
We cast a longer shadow in the sun!

From others claim what these refuse to give,
And now a charm, and now a grace is won! And dart, like Milton, an unerring eye
We grow in wisdom, and in stature too!

Through the dim curtains of Futurity. (3)
And, as new scenes, new objects rise to view, Wealth, Pleasure, Ease, all thought of self resign'd,
Think nothing done while aught remains to do. What will not Man encounter for Mankind ?

Behold him now unbar the prison-door,

Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove, And, lifting Guilt, Contagion from the floor, And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love! To Peace and Health, and Light and Life restore ; But soon a nobler task demands her care. Now in Thermopylæ remain to share

Apart she joins his little hands in prayer, Death-nor look back, nor turn a footstep there, Telling of Him who sees in secret there! Leaving his story to the birds of air ;

And now the volume on her knee has caught And now like Pylades (in Heaven they write His wandering eye-now many a written thought Names such as his in characters of light)

Never to die, with many a lisping sweet long with his friend in generous enmity,

His moving, murmuring lips endeavor to repeat. Pleading, insisting in his place to die!

Released, he chases the bright butterfly ; Do what he will, he cannot realize

Oh he would follow-follow through the sky! Half he conceives--the glorious vision flies. Climbs the gaunt mastiff slumbering in his chain, Go where he may, he cannot hope to find

And chides and buffets, clinging by the mane; The truth, the beauty pictured in his mind.

Then runs, and, kneeling by the fountain-side, But if by chance an object strike the sense,

Sends his brave ship in triumph down the tide, The faintest shadow of that Excellence,

A dangerous voyage ; or, if now he can, Passions, that slept, are stirring in his frame;

If now he wears the habit of a man, Thoughts undefined, feelings without a name! Flings off the coat so long his pride and pleasure, And some, not here callid forth, may slumber on

And, like a miser digging for his treasure, Till this vain pageant of a world is gone;

His tiny spade in his own garden plies, Lying too deep for things that perish here,

And in green letters sees his name arise! Waiting for life—but in a nobler sphere!

Where'er he goes, for ever in her sight,

She looks, and looks, and still with new delight! Look where he comes! Rejoicing in his birth,

Ah who, when fading of itself away,
Awhile he moves as in a heaven on earth!

Would cloud the sunshine of his little day!
Sun, moon, and stars—the land, the sea, the sky
To him shine out as 't were galaxy!

Now is the May of Life. Careering round,
But soon 'tis past-the light has died away!

Joy wings his feet, Joy lists him from the ground !

Pointing to such, well might Cornelia say,
With him it came (it was not of the day)

When the rich casket shone in bright array,
And he himself diffused it, like the stone
That sheds awhile a lustre all its own, (4)

" These are my Jewels !" (7) Well of such as he, Making night beautiful. 'Tis past, ’t is gone,

When Jesus spake, well might his language be,

“Suffer these little ones to come to me!" (8) And in his darkness as he journeys on, Nothing revives him but the blessed ray

Thoughtful by fits, he scans and he reveres That now breaks in, nor ever knows decay,

The brow engraven with the Thoughts of Years ; (9) Sent from a better world w light him on his way.

Close by her side his silent homage given

As to some pure Intelligence from Heaven; How great the Mystery! Let others sing

His eyes cast downward with ingenuous shame, The circling Year, the promise of the Spring,

His conscious cheeks, conscious of praise or blame, The Summer's glory, and the rich repose

At once lit up as with a holy flame! Of Autumn, and the Winter's silvery snows.

He thirsts for knowledge, speaks but to inquire ; Man through the changing scene let me pursue,

And soon with tears relinquish'd to the Sire, Himself how wondrous in his changes too!

Soon in his hand to Wisdom's temple led, Not Man the sullen savage in his den;

Holds secret converse with the Mighty Dead ; But Man call'd forth in fellowship with men;

Trembles and thrills and weeps as they inspire. School'd and train'd up to Wisdom from his birth; (5) Burns as they burn, and with congenial fire! God's noblest work—His image upon earth!

Like Her most gentle, most unfortunate, (10) The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd ;(6) Crown'd but to die—who in her chamber sate The child is born, by many a pang endear'd. Musing with Plato, though the horn was blown, And now the mother's ear has caught his cry; And every ear and every heart was won, Oh grant the cherub to her asking eye!

And all in green array were chasing down the sun' lle comes—she clasps him. To her bosom press’d,

Then is the Age of Admiration (11)-Then He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest. Gods walk the earth, or beings more than men,

Her by her smile how soon the Stranger knows; Who breathe the soul of Inspiration round,
How soon by his the glad discovery shows! Whose very shadows consecrate the ground !
As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,

Ah, then comes thronging many a wild desire,
What answering looks of sympathy and joy! And high imagining and thought of fire!
He walks, he speaks. In many a broken word Then from within a voice exclaims “ Aspire !"
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard. Phantoms, that upward point, before him pass,
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,

As in the Cave athwart the Wizard's glass ;
When rosy Sleep comes on with sweet surprise. They, that on Youth a grace, a lustre shed,
Lock'd in her arms, his arms across her flung, Of every age—the living and the dead !
(That name most dear for ever on his tongue) Thou, all-accomplish'd Surrey, thou art known;
As with soft accents round her neck he clings, The flower of Knighthood, nipt as soon as blown!
And cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings, Melting all hearts but Geraldine's alone!
How blest to feel the beatings of his heart, And, with his beaver up, discovering there
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart; One who lov'd less to conquer than to spare,

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