He viewed creation's wonders, great and small, Ought that could equal the transcendent grace Within a picture gallery I stood, Where rival pencils lured the multitude. It was Lorenzo! Oh! how sadly changed, ‹ Down dropped the eyelids of an angry day; My friend", he faltered, "kindness comes too late ". 'He's gone! and now a nation's late remorse VOL. VI.-N.S. 3 G The Keepsake maintains its aristocratic and exclusive character, by a splendid show of noble, right honourable, and honourable contributors; but the insipidity which usually characterizes the favours of the lords and ladies who condescend to notice the muses, is, in the present volume, happily relieved by a large proportion of effective writing. The first article is a Narrative of an ascent of Mont Blanc in August 1830, by the Hon. E. B. Wilbraham;-unpretending and unaffected, and therefore highly interesting. Among the other attractive articles, we may specify, 'The Dream, a tale by the Author of Frankenstein; Therese,' a tale which, if it had not the name of Sheridan Knowles attached to it, we should have pronounced, without hesitation, to be a translation, the sentiments, the expressions, the every thing being French; the Star of the Pacific,' by J. A. St. John; a tale of the olden time by Mrs. C. Gore; the Fortunes of a Modern Crichton,' an instructive and touching biographical narrative; two tales by a pair of noble brothers, Lord Mulgrave and the Hon. C. Phipps; the Family of Dammerel,' by R. Bernal, M.P.;—' Baby,' an autobiographical memoir, edited by W. Jerdan, Esq.;-and the New King,' to which it may be sufficient to annex the name of Theodore Hook, as that name is sure to bring up something at once comic and satirical, in the Writer's peculiar line. 'Baby' is a very cleverly imagined exposition of what would be the miseries of the first stage of existence, if Baby could have that half-understanding of all that is going forward, that would give rise to the disgusts, terrors, and gloomy anticipations here portrayed. We do not, however, at all perceive the wit or propriety of making Baby swear,-more especially before he had heard the voice of his Papa. Amusing as this volume certainly is, and one of the best of the Series, we have no small difficulty in finding matter for convenient extract. Of the poetry, a stanza or two will suffice to illustrate, that, though peers and peeresses may be created, poeta nascitur, and Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley does not happen to be born to that title. The arrangement of words in the following lines, may be compared to what is called, we believe, Indian tinting; which is not exactly the same thing as sketching from nature. 'Here the manguasteens swell, the magnolias bloom, Chenar-tree, banana, and palm shield earth's flowers; The musk-deer lie stretch'd 'neath the gum-tree's sweet gloom, And the paradise-birds wing their way to the bowers." We have heard young ladies complain of the English language as harsh and ill adapted for musical enunciation,-a fair excuse for the preference of Italian songs. But surely, the soft flow of these lines must be intended to prove, how liquid and musical the language may be rendered. Here is another line, which we should like to hear said or sung by the soft voice of the fair writer: ' And the humming birds' hues shine like stars thro' the shades.' Again, as a specimen of the Lalla Rookh sort of prettiness which sparkles in this poem, take the following: 'Tis the time for sweet thoughts-all seem thinking around! Bright flow the champaka and pomegranate flowers, Of these specimens it must be owned, that the poetry is worthy of the sentiment; and that the perspicuity of the meaning is equal to the melodiousness of the verse. There are several poems in this volume by the same gifted lady. Inferior in the glitter and perfume of verse, yet somewhat smoother, are 'Stanzas 'by an Honourable G. Berkeley, of which we transcribe the last. 'Alas! the sunshine of the heart displays A Mr. J. R. Gowen, who ought to be an Honourable or an Exclusive, thus addresses a lady who desired him to send her some verses. 'Oh, lady fair! in vain you bid me rhyme ! My halting numbers keep no tuneful time, Absent your form, unseen your sparkling eyes.' But there are some better things than these wretched specimens of patrician inanity; and we are pleased to find the name of Lord Morpeth affixed to the following really elegant and beautiful stanzas. 'Who has not felt, 'mid azure skies, At glowing noon, or golden even, A soft and mellow sadness rise, And tinge with earth the hues of heaven? That shadowing consciousness will steal And close each cadence of the lyre. In the most radiant landscape's round, O for the suns that never part, The fields with hues unfading dress'd, There are some pleasing vers de societé, describing a party of pleasure up the River Tamer, by the Countess of Morley; some indifferent poetry by the Countess of Blessington; 'Lines' by two or three Lords; and several poems by L. E. L., which shine bright amidst the tinsel. 'Good Angels' is the title of some lines of great vigour and beauty; but the design they have been written to illustrate, was apparently meant for a very different subject; taken, we presume, from Rev. xii. 4, 5. But nothing in the shape of poetry has interested us so much as the following short, simple, but exquisite lines, ascribed to R. H. Stanhope, M. P. TO ELIZABETH IN SICKNESS. 'O thou whose love hath sanctified and blest Who to the widow on Samaria's shore, Bade her, no longer childless, "Weep no more!"' We find that we have omitted to particularize (we had not overlooked) the most truly interesting prose contribution in the volume, from the pen of Mrs. Charles Gore; entitled, Lady Evelyn Savile's Three Trials.' We can quite believe it to be true, though it does not seem strictly natural; it is at all events affecting, and may be instructive-if the spoiled children of fashion can learn wisdom from tales and parables. The Literary Souvenir of this year has aimed at producing a sensation by something quite new,-a satirical squib, or rather a regular pasquinade, extending through about 30 pages, in which the Editor has run a tilt against half the town. The best that we can do is, to stand out of his way, as we have no wish to bite or to be bitten. The poem we allude to, is not the only one of the kind in the volume. Aspasia, a sketch of female character,' is a biting lampoon, and seems to be meant for a portrait; but we have no wish to know the original, nor do we envy the writer. The fair Sisters of the Society of Friends also come in for a little satire of a gentler kind, from the pen of Mrs. Alaric Watts. From these unwelcome novelties, we are glad to turn to contributions of a more usual sort;-a Tale by Miss Mitford;-a legend by Mr. Praed ;-a dramatic scene by James Sheridan Knowles ;-a tale by Mr. Howison, tragical enough to be true, and scarcely pleasing enough for fiction, the scene of which is in the highlands bordering on East Florida;—a romantic story of some Neapolitan banditti, by C. Macfarlane;-a tale of the Tyrol, by Mr. Leitch Ritchie;-and a good French story by Mr. Knowles. But we must pass by all these tempting articles, as not allowing of detached extract of convenient length; and fix upon the following very pleasing and picturesque stanzas. REMINISCENCES OF ANDALUSIA. By the Author of "Spain in 1830." 'Seville-gay Seville-with its serenades, And Gothic towers, and Moorish minarets: Bright orange groves, and light acacia bowers, And stately palm, that like a giant towers Above the dwarfish trees that cower below: Desert sierras, where the ilex spreads On rocky steeps; where odours, strange, yet sweet, Of thousand flowers that spring beneath the feet: 'A train of straggling mules,-a muleteer, A groupe of boys seated beneath a tree- Goats, milk-white, feeding 'mid rosemary bushes, |