Abbildungen der Seite

in an ode lately submitted to our To stay thy car upon the Latmos hill,

Touch with a clouded hand thy look of light; perusal by an ingenious and modest Nor elemental blight young man, in which, about half way Mar the rich beauties of thy hyacinthine hair. down, he exclaims, as if prophetically, to us who seek and praise thee here

Queen of the tumbling floods! oh lend thine ear READER AWAKE!” There is much --- Fright not the Halcyon from her watery nest, smartness in the idea of “ two dead When on the scarcely-moving waves she sits

Listening-sore distrest eternities." An eternity especially, Lest that the winds, in sullen fits, past with whales, is enough to make

Should come, and lift the curling seas on high :

-Yet, if the storm must come-then Dian! then the stoutest reader blubber. Do not let Scatter the billows from the Delphic shore,

And bid the monsters of the deep go roar
John Keates think we dislike him.

In those far foreign caves
He is a young man of some poetry; Sicilian, where the ocean raves

For ever, (dug, 'tis said, by giant men but at present he has not more than

Beneath Pelorus' rugged proinontory.) about a dozen admirers,-Mr Leigh On thy white altar we Hunt whom he feeds on the oil-cakes Lavish in fond idolatry.

Herbs and sweet flowers such as the summer uses: of flattery till he becomes flatulent

Some that in wheaton fields of praise, -Mr Benjamin Haydon, Lift their red bells amidst the golden grain :

Some that the moist earth yields, who used to laugh at him till that fa

Beneath the shadows of those pine trees high, mous sonnet-three engrossing clerks Which, branching, shield the far Thessalian -and six or seven medical students, From the fierce anger of A pollo's eye

plains who chaunt portions of Endymion as

And some that Delphie swains

Pluck by the silver springs of Castaly they walk the hospitals, because the (Yet, there-thus it is said—the wanton Muses, author was once an apothecary. We

Their dark and tangled locks adorning,

Lie stretch'd on green slopes 'neath the laurel alone like him and laugh at him.

boughs, He is at present a very amiable, silly,

Or weave sad garlands for their brows;

And tho' they shun thee thro' the livelong night, lisping, and pragmatical young gentle. Bend their blue eyes before the God of morning, man—but we hope to cure him of all

And hail with shouts his first return of light.-) that—and should have much pleasure Now and for ever hail, great Dian !—Thou, in introducing him to our readers in a The rolling planets die, or lose their fires, year or two speaking the language of And all the bravery of Heaven retires

-There, Saturn dimly turns within his ring, this country, counting his fingers cor And Jove looks pale upon his burning throne; rectly, and condescending to a neckcloth.

There, the great hunter-king,

Orion, mourns with watery glare,
Why should Leigh Hunt and John The tarnish'd lustre of his blazing zone
Keates have a higher opinion of them-

Thou only through the blue and starry air,

In unabated beauty ridst along, selves, than Barry Cornwall? One Companion'd by our song " dramatic scene"-even the

Tum hither, then, thy clear an stedfast smile,

To grace our humble welcoming,
tainest and most imitative of them all And free the poet's brain
is worth both “ The two dead Eter-

From all but that so famous pain,
Which sometimes, at the still

midnight, nities” of the Cockneys.

We now

Stirs his creative fancyings, while,

(Charm'd by thy silver light) charge Barry Cornwall, coram popu He strives, noi vainly then, his sweetest song to lo, with the following hymn to Diana.

sing. It is classical, without being pedantic. It would greatly amuse us, to meet HYMN TO DIANA.

in company together Johnny Keates Dian !-We seek thee in this tranquil hour; and Percy Bysshe Shelly, -and as they We call thee by thy names of power; Lucina ! first-(that tender namne divine,

are both friends of Mr Leigh Hunt, Which young and travail'd dames adore and fear;) we do not despair of witnessing the Child of the dark-brow'd Proserpine ! Star-crowned Dian! Daughter of Jove

conjunction of these planets on HampOlympian ! Mother of blind Love !

stead Hill, when we visit London in Fair Cynthia! Towered Cybele ! Lady of stainless chastity!

spring. A bird of paradise and a Bend low thy listening ear,

Friezeland fowl would not look more And smile upon us, now

the long day's toil, absurdly, on the same perch. Hear Beautiful queen! is done, And from the withering sun

with what a deep voice of inspiration
Save thou and bless the perch'd and fainting soil Shelly speaks.
So may thy silver shafts ne'er miss their aim,
But strike the heart of every bounding fawn;

And not a nymph of thine e'er lose her fame
By loitering in the beechen glades;

A pale dream came to a Lady fair,
Oř standing, with her mantle haif undrawn,

Ånd said, a boon, a boon, I pray!

I know the secrets of the air,
Like hearkening Silence, near the skirting shades
Of forests, where the cloven satyrs lie

And thirgs are lost in the glare of day,

Which I can make the sleeping see,
Sleeping with upward face, or piping musically.

If they will put their trust in me.
Oh! smile upon us Dian! smile as thou
Art wont, 'tis said, at times to look upon

And thou shalt know of things unknown,
Thy own pale boy, Endymion,

If thou will let me rest between When cam he slumbers on the mountain's brow: The veiny lids, whose fringe is thrown And may no doubt, not care,

Over thine eyes so dark and sheen: When thou shalt wish, on nights serene and And half in hope, and half in fright, still

The lady closed her eyes so bright.



[ocr errors]
[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

At first, all deadly shapes were driven

The plank whereon that Lady sate Tumultuously across her sleep,

Was driven thro' the chasms about and about, And o'er the vast cope of bending heaven

Between the peaks so desolate All ghastly-visaged clouds did sweep;

Of the drowning mountains in and out And the Lady ever looked to spý

As the thistle beard on a whirlwind sails If the golden sun shone forth on high.

While the flood was filling those hollow vales. And as towards the east she turned,

At last her plank an eddy crost, She saw aloft in the morning air,

And bore her to the city's wall, Which now with hues of sunrise burned,

Which now the flood had reached almost; A great black anchor rising there;

It might the stoutest heart appal And wherever the lady turned her eyes.

To hear the fire roar and hiss It hung before her in the skies.

Thro' the domes of those mighty palaces. The sky was as blue as the summer sea,

The eddy whirld her round and round The depths were cloudless over head,

Before a gorgeous gate, which stood The air was calm as it could be,

Piercing the cloud of smoke, which bound There was no sight or sound of dread,

Its aery arch with light like blood; But that black anchor floating still

She look'd on that gate of marble clear Over the piny eastern hill.

With wonder that extinguish'd fear. The lady grew sick with a weight of fear,

For it was filled with sculptures rarest To see that Anchor ever hanging,

Of forms most beautiful and strange, And veiled her eyes ; she then did hear

Like nothing human, but the fairest The sound as of a din low clanging,

Of winged

shapes, whose legions range And looked abroad if she might know

Throughout the sleep of those that are, Was it aught else, or but the flow

Like this same Lady, good and fair.
Of the blood in her own veins to and fro.

And as she looked, still lovelier grew
There was a mist in the sunless air,
Which shook as it were with an earthquake's

Those marble forms ;--the sculptor sure

Was a strong spirit, and the hue shock,

Of his own mind did there endure
But the very weeds that blossomed there

After the touch, whose power had braided
Were moveless, and each mighty rock
Stood on its basis stedfastly ;

Such grace, was in some sad change faded.
The Anchor was seen no more on high.

She looked, the flames were dim, the flood

Grew tranquil as a woodland river
But piled around, with summits hid
In lines of cloud at intervals,

Winding thro' hills in solitude ;
Stood many a mountain pyramid,

Those marble shapes then seemed to quiver,

And their fair limbs to float in motion,
Among whose everlasting walls

Like weeds unfolding in the ocean.
Two mighty cities shone, and ever
Thro' the red mist their domes did quiver.

And their lips moved ;--one seemed to speak,
On two dread mountains, from whose crest,

When suddenly the mountains crackt,

And thro' the chasm the flood did break
Might seem, the eagle, for her brood,
Would ne'er have hung her dizzy nest,

With an earth-uplifting cataract:
Those tower-encircled cities stood.

The statues gave a joyous scream,

And on its wings, the pale thin dream
A vision strange such towers to see,
Sculptur'd and wrought so gorgeously,

Lifted the Lady from the stream.
Where human art could never be.

The dizzy flight of that phantom pale, And columns framed of marble white,

Waked the fair Lady from her sleep. And giant fanes dome over dome

And she arose, while from the veil Piled, and triumphant gates, all bright

Of her dark eyes the dream did creep,

And she walked about as one who knew
With workmanship, which could not come
From touch of mortal instrument,

That sleep has sights as clear and true
Shot o'er the vales, or lustre lent

As any waking eyes can view.
From its own shapes magnificent.

So much for the “ Literary Pocket-
But still the Lady heard that clang
Filling the wide air far away;

Book” 1819. The earth has perform-
And still the mist whose light did hang

ed its revolution round the sun, and Among the mountains shook alway, So that the Lady's heart beat fast

that number is no more. What would As half in joy, and half aghast,

we not give for a reading of Mr On those high domes her look she cast.

Leigh Hunt's Literary Pocket-Book Sudden from out that city sprung

for 1819! Could Messrs Olliers get A light that made the earth grow red ; Two flames, that each with quivering tongue together a few dozen from villatic

Lick'd its high domes, and over head Among those mighty towers and fanes

and rural manuscribes, they would be Dropped fire, as a volcano rains

very diverting. Put down our names, Its sulphurous ruin on the plains.

at random, for a dozen copies. And hark! a rush, as if the deep

Literary Pocket-Book" for
Had burst its bonds; she looked behind
And saw over the western steep

1820 is just published. The lists are A raging flood descend, and wind

pretty much the same as formerly— Thro' that wide vale; she felt no fear, But said within herself, 'tis clear

but we believe, both fuller and more These towers are Nature's own, and she To save them has sent forth the sea.

correct. In place of the “ Callendar

of Nature," we have from the pen of And now those raging billows came Where that fair Lady sate, and she

Mr Hunt, “ a Callendar of Observers," Was borne towards the show'ring flame

or specimens of the greater or less By the wild waves heaped tumultuously, And on a little plank, the flow

enjoyment which people derive from Of the whirlpool bore her to and fro.

the world they live in, according to The waves were fiercely vomited

the number and healthiness of their From every tower and ev'ry dome, And dreary light did widely shed

perceptions!” The Observers are six O'er that vast flood's suspended foam,

in number.

The Mere Lounger-
Beneath the smoke which hung its night
On the stained cope of heaven's light.

The Mere Man of Business-The Bi

The «



got—The Mere Sportsman-TheMere forth with new strength and sprightliness, Sedentary Liver, and the Observer of the dog scampering about his master in Nature. Mr Hunt tells us, with his hopes he is going towards the fields, and usual cleverness, what each of these hyacinths, narcissuses, and violets in the

green markets : and seeing these, he cancharacters sees in each of the seasons.

not but hasten the faster to see the country.

Instead of reading his book at home, he The mere Lounger.-Sees his face in the takes it with him, and sees what the poets glass, and yawns. Sees his tailor, who in describe. He sees the returning blue of forms him that it is spring. Sees several the sky, the birds all in motion, the glanpersons, horses, and suits of clothes in Bond cing showers, the after-laughing sun, the Street.” Sees some pretty faces. Sees a maiden blossoms in the gardens, the thick. great deal of green and white in the milli. ening leafiness of the hedges, the perfect ner's shops, and thinks the country must be young green of the meadows, the bustling getting pretty. Takes a ride round the farm-yards, the far prospects, the near and Regent's Park, and sees Jones.

odorous bowers, the bee bounding forth « The Mere Man of Business.-Sees his with his deep song through the lightsome clerks or apprentices up. Sees his custom- atmosphere, the kids leaping, the cattle ers come in all day. Sees their money. placidly grazing, the rainbow spanning the Sees faces occasionally go by. Sees shelves hills in its beauty and power, the showers and bundles all about him. Sees his law. again, the blue sky again, the sun triumph. yer and broker.

Sees dinner with brief ing over the moisture like bright eyes above transport, just time enough to get an in- dewy lips, the perfumed evening, the gentle digestion. Sees to his accounts in the even and the virgin moon. Going home, he sees ing, and endeavours to think himself a every thing again with the united transport happy man. Sees his goods adulterated. of health and imagination, and in his dreams Goes to bed, and sees in his dreams a great

sees his friend and his mistress as happy as pale multitude looking at him, whom he himself. sets down for people he has cheated. Sees himself exposed, and wakes in a trepida The Mere Lounger.-Goes into the countion. N. B. It is the fumes of indigestion, try to see Jones. Sees Jones. Sees somo which in these and other cases inspire a horses. Sees little else in the country but man's dreams with a certain Delphic hor. the absence of town. Is shown a prospect, ror.

and sees in it a considerable resemblance to “ The Bigot.-Sees the sunshine, and

a scene at the Opera. Sees a storm, and thinks how happy he and his friends will hopes it won't rain next Wednesday. be in heaven exclusively.

The Mere Man of Business.Is sorry to going towards the country laughing, and see the town so empty. Sees some flowers gaily dressed.

Sees in them only so at the door, but declines buying any, bemany devoted victims to eternal fire ; calls cause he will not give the price asked by a the world a vile world; and sees his debtor half-penny. Sees some new dishes on his sent to prison. Sees the building of his table at dinner, and has a remote notion chapel going on, and counts up his profits, that he enjoys himself. Feels himself half monied and eternal. Sees his servant bring- stifled with the weather, the dust, the close ing in a green goose for dinner ; and says, shop, and repletion ; and sees the pavewith an air of delighted regret, that he ment before his door watered with a tin fears his friend the gun-maker is too late. canister, in liquid lines of refreshment a quill

The Mere Sportsman-Sees a fox. Sees thick. him several times over. Sees a girl's com

The Bigot.-Sees the beauty of the coun. plexion and ancles. Sees his friends all try, but thinksit wrong to be moved by earth drunk after dinner.

ly delights, and hastens home to his roast pig. The Mere Sedentary Liver.-Sees his Sees nothing in the world after dinner but a tongue in the glass. Sees the fine weather, fleeting shew. Finds it very hot ; sees a fiery and calls to mind all that the poets have kind of horrid look in the sunshine; and is not said about it. Takes his first walk this quite easy in thinking that ninety-nine hunyear, and sees numberless things, but all dredths of his fellow creatures are to be discoloured and half pleasant. Gocs home burnt for ever ; thinks it impious however and sees with delight a new packet of to suppose his Maker too kind to suffer it, books. Reads an account of a man who and comforts himself with callousness. saw a spectre, and almost sees it himself, “ The Mere Sportsman.-Sees a hare, Goes to bed, and sees in his sleep a vision Sees a friend in a ditch. Does not see him shockingly mixed up of oddity and horror. out. Sees, in a transport of rage, the

The observer of Nature. Sees the first hounds at fault. Goes to angle, to settle fine spring day and leaps up with transport. his spirits ; and with considerable relief, Sees a world full of beauty and pleasure sees several fish drawn gasping out of the even in towns. Sees the young and fair water with a hook in their jaws, and a abroad, and sees their lovely countenances salmon crimped alive. and minds. Sees the white pigeons career “The Mere Sedentary Liver.-Sees with ing round the steeple, the horses issuing delight the flowers in his window, and vows

Sees a party

[ocr errors]

every day that he will go out the next. your intercourse! He becomes as mute as
Sees with an exclamation of regret, while your own delight, when mind " hangs ena-
he is yet reading, the servant come in moured” over beauty.
every day to say dinner is ready, Sees

There can be no doubt that this is
motes before his eyes. Sees himself, with
great disgust, getting corpulent, which is very lively, but is the classification à
very unlike the Greek forms, or the ada good one? Surely not. Nobody wishes
mirable Crichton. Sees his friend sick in to be told what a mere Lounger does
bed with staying at home, and wonders how with himself, according to the sea-
any body can do so. Rouses up the bad sons. Neither do mere Loungers form
humours in his blood with one walk instead a class. Their number must be incre.
of twenty, and sees it is hopeless to struggle dibly small. But whether smallor great,
with his disorder. Sees more beauties than they are totally and universally unin-
ever in his authors, but a great falling off in teresting; and it is somewhat too
the world he so admired when a lad.
The Observer of Nature.–Seesthe early with one from one year's end to the

much to carry their character about
sun striking magnificently into the warm
mists in the streets, as if it measured them other. The mere Man of Business is
with its mighty rule. Sees other effects of still worse. Why obtrude upon our
this kind, worthy of the pencil of Canaletto. attention, every day in the year, a
Sees a thousand shapes and colours of beau. dull, gross, greedy knave, who adul-
ty as the day advances. Sees the full mul. terates his goods, and would rejoice to
titude of summer flowers, wit) all their become a fraudulent bankrupt? These
gorgeous hues of scarlet, purple, and gold ;

are not fitting contemplations for a
roses, carnations, and amaranths, wall.
flowers, lupins, larkspurs, campanulas, gentleman's Literary Pocket-Book ei-
golden-rods, orchis, nasturtiums, &c. &c. ther during hot or cold weather. The
and the Martagon lily, or Greek hyacinth. Bigot is worse and worse. We all
And then he sees the world with a Greek know what Mr Hunt means by bigot-
sight, as well as his own, and enjoys his ry, and what a very sweeping epithet
books over again. And then he sees the it is in his hands. The picture he
world in a philosophic light, and then draws is shocking and unnatural. The
again in a purely imaginative one, and then
in one purely simple and childlike; and better-but he is far too much of a

mere Sedentary Liver is something
every way in which he turns the face of
nature, he finds some new charm of feature ninny-and we are hurt by finding
or expression, something wonderful to ad. him alive all the year through. He
mire, something affectionate to love. Sees should have died in autumn at the
or fancies in some green and watery spot, very latest, of jaundice, indigestion,
the white sheep-shearing. Sees the odo- the liver complaint, and the physician.
roue haymaking. Sees the landscape with The Observer of Nature alone, with
a more intent perfectness from the silence all his conceit, deserves to live through
of the birds. Sees the insects at their the year 1820--but let him look to
tangled and dizzy play; and fancies, what his flannel waistcoats, and beware of
he well knows, how beautiful they must
look, some with their painted or transparent sitting in wet shoes. Mr Hunt (for
wings, others with their little trumpets and he draws from himself here) is an
airy-nodding plumes. Sees the shady rich- adventurous man, and thinks nothing
ness of the trees; the swallows darting of walking from Catharine Street to
about like winged thoughts ; the cattle Hampstead in mist or sleet, in magna-
standing with cool feet in the water ; the nimous contempt of hackney-coaches.
young bathers trailing themselves along It will be a pretty story indeed if
the streams, or flitting about the sward Johnny Keates have to write the Cal-
amidst the breathing air. Sees the silver endar of Observers for 1821, and if
clouds which seem to look out their

far through the sky. Sees the bees at Leigh Hunt's name be transferred
work in their hurrying communities, or

from the list of living authors to that
wandering ones rushing into the honied of “ Eminent Persons in Letters,
arms of the flowers. Sees the storm com- Philosophy, and the Arts, whose great
ing up in its awful beauty, to refresh the original genius, individual character, or
world; the angel-like leaps of the fiery reputation with posterity, has had an
lightning; and the gentle and full rain influence in modifying the taste and
following the thunder, like love ushered by opinions of the world.

* Divine Nature ! And thou, when the why did not Mr Hunt include our
touch of sympathy has made thee wise,

name in the list of living authors. diviner human nature ! how is he stricken We find there “Hunt, Leigh, Poetry dumb who would attempt to record the Criticism, Politics, and Miscellanies smallest part of the innumerable joys of Now, why not also “ North, Christ VOL. VI.


[ocr errors][ocr errors]

By the way

pher, Poetry, Politics, Metaphysics, We will hook a fish for you—and Mathematics, Criticism, Travels, Bon back him for his life against the ExMots, and Cookery.” We expect to aminer. It is four miles from Loch see this in the Literary Pocket-Book Awe to the Salt Sea of Loch Ericht.for 1821, and thenceforth evermore.

The banks of the river Awe are pretty But we had almost forgotten Mr precipitous—and ere you, Mr Leigh Hunt's account of the mere Sportsman. Hunt, have been dancing five minutes It is plain that he knows nothing of over the crags, you will have bitter Nimrod. A tallyho would break the occasion for all your virility, and detympanum of his ear. Were we to voutly wish that the salmon were imagine one thing more ridiculous than crimped, so that he were but off the all the other ridiculous things in this end of your line. What do you think world, it would be the Examiner a of swimming arms of lakes—and fordsteeple-hunting John Gilpin musting foamy torrents neck high-and have looked a Castor in comparison crossing wide moors up to the middle with the author of Rimini. Pray, in heather—and scaling mountains who ever heard of following a pack of girdled with granite—and driving your hounds in Summer? Mr Leigh Hunt solitary way through blind mists, or might as well go a butterfly-hunting roaring blasts, or rain deluges--of rein the dead of winter. For shame, ye turning at midnight to a sheeling on Cockneys ! to pursue, unto the death, the hill laden with spoil, and bowed poor puss and her infant family during down with the weary weight of many the dog-days. And is it, indeed, cus savage and dreary leagues? This is tomary, as Mr Leigh Hunt asserts in the nature of Scottish angling-inthis his Literary Pocket-Book, for deed, of all angling that deserves the Cockney sportsmen “ to fly into a name. 'As to old Isaac Walton, hotransport of rage” when the hounds nest man, he used to be a most partiare at fault? a mere sportsman is the cular favourite with Mr Leigh Hunt last man in the world to do that—he —but now he is "a pike in a doublet." is quite cool on such occasions, and The secret cause of all this raving uses the whip with alacrity but discri- against angling and anglers is, that we mination. Then, ye gentlemen of are anglers. Several admirable angEngland, what think you of anglingling articles have appeared in this Mafor salmon in the middle of summer, gazine, and, therefore, Mr Leigh on a sultry afternoon, by way of re- Hunt cannot endure angling. This is freshing yourselves after harriers ? quite pitiful. But it is true. and what think ye of crimping on the Enough of Mr Hunt for the prespot the salmon you thus miraculous- sent, so let us turn to “ Walks round lý ensnare? Oh'! Leigh, Leigh, thy London, No I." a very easy, graceful, lips utter a vain thing, and thy heart and amiable little composition, which conceiveth foolishness! You and o-' we could almost suspect to be from ther literary men—poets, critics, and the pen of Mr Cornwall. politicians-it is who are, in verity, the crimpers of salmon. The mere sportsman does none of these things. He despiseth the fish, and eateth him “ If we were to judge by the number of not. Thou art the crimper. You handsome country residences, which, within say that angling is not a manly amuse

a few years, have “ risen like exhalations" ment. Why, there is no virility in on the different roads, the south side of London sitting in a punt, with your head would be pronounced the favourite quarter

for the citizens to retire to. But here, as in bobbing over the side, and your nose many other matters of taste, they do not in the water, laying plots against seem to have “ chosen the better part.” On perches, and revelling in the massacre the north of the great city, and at no greater of minnows. Angling is but a sorry distance, there are more situations which pastime in the New River. But come partake of the true country aspect. A few down to Scotland next autumn, when

at random may be mentioned--and let a we pitch our tent on Loch Awe side, road from Hampstead to Hendon ; the rural

“ Suthron” match them if he can. The and you will then know whether or

district all round the feet of Hampstead and not angling be a manly amusement. We will put a twenty-foot-rod into Muswell-hill, Crouch-end, Colney-hatch,

Highgate ; the neighbourhood of Hornsey, vour hand, with fifty fathom of line, Southgate ; – the region about Waltham.

ad a reel as large as a five gallon cask. stow, Wanstead, Highbeach, and Seward


NO. I.

« ZurückWeiter »