Poetry.

COTTAGE SCENE.-A THOUGHT.

It were a peaceful, spirit-soothing scene,

That ivy'd cottage, with its modest roof,

And walls of clay; yet, storm and winter proof,
Amid the tempest, smiling and serene;
Biding the shock that loftier fabric rends,

And whispering, to the heart of gentle mould,
Of patient suff'rance; that when tried, as gold,
To Heaven's appointed bidding lowly bends.
And, oh, more blest than heart of stubborn will,
That proudly dares arraign the Sovereign Power
Ruling alike the dark, as radiant hour,
And robed in terrors, loving, pitying still!
And thou, Humility, confest a gem
Transcending that of kingly diadem.
Liverpool.

G.

"His blood be upon us, and on our children."-Mat. xxvii. 25.

"Upon us let his blood,” they cried,
"And on our children come!"

In heaven 'twas heard, though nought replied,
And earth and air were dumb.
That reckless multitude is gone,
The sun that saw that scene;
And still its blue the sky put on,

The earth her loveliest green.
Time roll'd along: reserved on high
Remained that awful curse,
Burthen of loftiest prophecy,

Theme of mysterious verse.

At length it comes! why lingerest thou,
Heedless, in tower and hall?

Judah! the foe is on thee now;

And, hark! the trumpet-call
Thou, who hast ne'er, in peace or war,
To strangers bow'd the knee!"
Thy princes, like the morning star;
Thy people, as the sea.

On thee that blood hath come oh, thou,
Once brightest, loveliest land!
And swept the glory from thy brow,
The sceptre from thy hand.

It hurl'd the temple from its base;
And still that curse denies,
On every shore, a resting-place,
Beneath th' eternal skies.

On land, on sea, in storm, in calm,
The avenger shall not sleep;
And still, beneath her ruined palm,
Must Judah sit and weep.+
Weep, Judah! weep,-thy lonely shore
Is emblem'd by that tree;

Thy "milk and honey" flow no more,
Or flow no more for thee.

Yet shalt thou turn thee to that blood,
And, from the curse set free,

Thy might be as the river flood,

Thy people as the sea.

DESCRIPTION OF LONDON.

Houses, churches, mixed together,
Streets unpleasant in all weather;
Prisons, palaces contiguous,

Gates, a bridge, the Thames irriguous;
Gaudy things, enough to tempt ye,
Showy outsides, insides empty;
Bubbles, trades, mechanic arts,
Coaches, wheelbarrows, and carts;
Warrants, bailiffs, bills unpaid,
Lords, of laundresses afraid;

Rogues, who nightly rob and shoot men,
Hangmen, aldermen, and footmen;
Lawyers, poets, priests, physicians,
Noble, simple, all conditions;
Worth beneath a threadbare cover,
Villany bedaubed all over;
Women, black, red, fair, and grey,
Prudes, and such as never pray ;
Handsome, ugly, noisy, still,
Some that will not, some that will;
Many a beau without a shilling,
Many a widow not unwilling;
Many a bargain, if you strike it;
This is London-how do you like it?

No. VII.

SPECIMENS OF THE ELDER POETS.

BY PERCIVAL MELBOURNE.

SIR WALTER RALEGH.

This accomplished poet was born in the year 1552, at
Hayes, in the parish of Budley, Devonshire. Where he
received the rudiments of his education is uncertain; but
it is known that he studied at Oriel College, Oxford, for a
few years.
At an early age he commenced his travels,
and was at Paris at the time the horrid massacre of the
Protestants took place, on the evening of St. Bartholomew,
1572. Having returned from his tour, he embarked, in
company with Sir John Norris and the English army, for
the Netherlands, against the Spaniards, where he sig
nalized himself by great heroic bravery.

But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, the wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yield
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is Fancy's spring, but Sorrow's fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw, and ivie buds,
Thy coral clasps, and amber studs;
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy love.

But could youth last, and age still breed;
Had joyes no date, nor age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
(To be continued.)

GUY FAWKES AND THE PARLIAMENT.

A Comic Song, sung by Mr. Rayner, for his benefit at the L pool Theatre, Friday, Nov 9, 1827.

I sing a doleful tragedy: Guy Fawkes, the prince d sinisters,

Who once blew up the House of Lords, the King, and a his Ministers;

That is he would have blown 'em up, and folks will ne'er forget him!

His will was good to do the deed-that is, if they'd have
let him!

He straightway came from Lambeth side, and wished the
State was undone,

And crossing over Vauxhall-bridge, that way came into
London;
That is, he would have come that way to perpetra
guilt, Sirs,

But a little thing prevented him-the bridge it was t
built, Sirs.

Then searching through the dreary vaults with portab gas light, Sirs,

About to touch the powder train, at witching hour night, Sirs;

In 1584 he made a voyage of discovery, and discovered Virginia; and has the honour of introducing, from that Island, tobacco into this country. On his return he was Knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and was elected member That is, I mean he would have used the gas, but for the County of Devon; and shortly after this was ap-'Cause gas, you see, in James's time, it had not been prevented, pointed Seneschal of Cornwall and Warden of the Stauna- vented! ries. To record all the honours to which Ralegh arrived,

would require more space than this notice will admit.
Suffice it to say, that on the death of the Queen, with
whom he was always a decided favourite, his fortunes be-
gan to decline. Shortly after the accession of James the
First, Ralegh was tried, and condemned for high-treason;
a charge as groundless as it was malicious; but he was
respited during the pleasure of James. Ralegh remained
a prisoner in the Tower upwards of twelve years, whence
The at length was released to prosecute a journey to Guiana;
but the expedition proving unsuccessful, on his return he
was recommitted to the Tower, on the 10th August, 1618.
This unexpected, vile treatment, caused a violent fever;
and whilst suffering under that disease, he was hurried to
receive sentence of death, on his former attainder. He
was beheaded in Old Palace-yard, October 18th, 1618;
and was interred on the same day, in the church of St.
Margaret, Westminster.

ANSWER TO MARLOWE'S SONG, "COME LIVE WITH
ME," &c.

If that the World and Love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tonge,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

And when they caught him in the fact, so very near the

Crown's end,

They straightway sent to Bow-street for that brave runner Townsend;

That

But

is, they would have sent for him, for fear he Townsend was'nt living then, he wasn't ben s

starter at,

a'ter that.

2

MILITIA RETURN.

LOVING EPISTLE TO EDWARD FELTON, CONSTABLE,
WHO IS EVERY NOW AND THEN LEAVING MILITIA SCHEDULES

OVERSEER'S OFFICE, FENWICK-STREET,

AT THE WRITER'S HOUSE.

My friend, thou should'st by this time know,
(Because I told thee long ago,)

That thou need'st send no more to me;
Why, zounds! I'm almost fifty-three:
Then, prithee, pester me no longer,
And, if perchance I should get younger,
I'll let thee know, my friend, forthwith,
Meanwhile, I'm truly thine,

St. James's-road.

E. SMITH.

Fashions for December.

a benevolent lady (probably Mrs. Fry,) passing through Liverpool, was so much struck with the obvious utility of the mode suggested in this work, that WALKING DRESS.-A pelisse of lilac gros de Naples, she procured a specimen of the type from Paris, with a pelerine of the same, cleft at the shoulders, and forming a sort of stomacher in front of the bust, which which was sent to Liverpool, and is now, we believe, terminates in a point, at the base of the waist, over the in the possession of Mr. Cruickshank, who printed belt. Down the front of the skirt, where the pelisse from it a specimen, consisting of the Ten Command closes, is a full rouleau, finished next the feet by an ornament of large lotus leaves. A rouleau, similar to that ments, which is now in the Athenæum Library. down the front, covers the hem. The sleeves are en gigot, The plan is extremely simple, and may be called em- with antique points at the wrists, on which are worn hair bossed printing. The types are sharp and large, and bracelets, finished at each edge with small gold beads. The throat is encircled by a full triple ruff of lace. A as the paper is only printed on one side, the impres-hat, of the same colour and material as the pelisse, is sion on the other side is very bold and palpable to lined with tartan silk, white, chequered with green, and the touch, as the letters stand out in relief, about the trimmed with bows of the same. thickness of a halfpenny. We do not think the letters EVENING DRESS.-A dress of pink, watered gros de are so well shaped as they might be for the purpose, of satin, placed about a hand's breadth from each other." Naples, ornamented round the border with four rouleaus The Manager in Distress.-It will be seen by an adver- as they ought to be as square and simple in their Down the front of the skirt is a broad ornament of chevrons, sement in another column, that this evening (Monday, lec. 3,) that popular actor, Mr. Hammond, takes his form as possible. This, however, is very easily re-formed also of satin rouleaus; the stomacher part of the body trimmed in a corresponding manner. A tucker of enefit at our Theatre, and that it is his intention to re- medied. very narrow Vandyked blond. Long full sleeves of white ive that most original and laughable piece, the Manager Mr. Gall, in the paragraph we have quoted from crepe-lisse, finished at the wrists by a cuff, ornamented on a Distress. If we were more particularly to describe the lot of this piece, we should entirely destroy its interest, the Scotch paper, speaks of a plan by which the the outside of the arm in three points, each point fastened hich consists in taking the audience completely by sur-blind can write as well as read; but as the method down by a small gold buckle. The sleeves are headed by rise. Those who do not attend the Theatre very early by which this is effected is not described, we are head-dress is a Vienna toque, consisting of separate stifan epaulette, formed of a double frill of broad blond. The also left to form our own conjectures on this part of fened puffs of pink satin. It is ornamented with very the subject. We have seen a very simple contrivance short white curled feathers, placed in various directions, and peeping out amongst the puffs, as though they were for enabling ordinary persons to write in the dark; merely the tips of feathers. One leng loop of pink gauze and we have satisfied ourselves, by actual experiment, ribbon, richly brocaded, depends from this elegant headTEACHING THE BLIND TO READ AND WRITE. that it answers the purpose intended. It was sug-dress, over the left shoulder. The ear-pendants are of everal methods have been long since suggested, and gested by Mr. Ralph Wedgwood, the ingenious in- wrought gold. A drapery scarf is sometimes added to this dress, of white barege, with the ends in stripes of gold at in practice, to enable the blind to read printed ventor of the manifold writer. Two flat rulers, with across, and finished by a splendid and gossamer like fringe ooks, and to print them themselves. We have seen tapering edges, were fixed over the paper, parallel to of white silk. me excellent specimen of a book printed expressly each other, at the distance of about the eighth of an or the blind, in which the letters are so palpable inch. The intention of these parallel edges was to the touch, that it would require very little practice keep the hand from wandering out of the horizontal enable any person to comprehend it. Before we line, which it is apt to do when the eye no longer sudeak further of this work, we shall transcribe the perintends the operation. If we recollect right, Mr. llowing paragraph from the Scotsman, in order to Wedgwood had a very ingenious method of removing pend to it some remarks which the subject sug- the paper when one line was filled, and bringing up between the parallel rules another portion of paper to write on; by turning a small handle, the paper, which was wrapped round a cylinder, was brought successively up to the pencil.

ill lose this treat.-See adv.

sts:

The Kaleidoscope.

Printing for the Blind.-This important art has, we are Happy to perceive, been practically carried into effect in as country. Practically, we say; for though it has been itroduced both in Vienna and Paris, yet, from the ulty nature of the alphabet employed in those places, it s been found of very little utility. At a meeting of the Tanagers of the Edinburgh Blind Asylum, on the 26th Lafter some routine business, they proceeded specially examine the nature and efficiency of the books lately finted for the use of the blind. Some of the boys beging to the Asylum were introduced, who, though the Boks had been in their possession only a few weeks, and ad bad no regular teaching, were able readily to disnguish all the letters, and easily discriminated those

In the Mercury of June 11, 1819, we stated that the Abbé Guille, at Paris, had published a work containing practical means, and a plain method by which blind persons might be taught to read, write, cipher, &c. The work itself was printed by the blind,

The Beauties of Chess.

"Ludimus effigiem belli."-VIDA.

SOLUTION TO STUDY CLIX.

WHITE.

......E-8X
..B-3

1 Castle.
2 Pawn
3 Bishop ...D-5X
4 Pawn......!

B-4

5 Castle......F-8X
6 Pawn.......
..B-5
7 Queen
......G-2X
8 Queen
......G-8X
9 Pawn .......
.B-6
10 Pawn......B-7XMATE.

STUDY CLX.

BLACK.

1 Queen......D-8
2 Queen......E-8
3 Queen
......C-6

4 Queen......D-5
5 Queen......D-8
6 Queen..
......F-8

7 Queen......F-3
8 Queen......F-8
9 Queen......G-8

In the Mercury of May 26, 1820, we mentioned a duplex topograph, a complete and portable appa- The white to win with a pawn, without taking the black

hich were likest to each other. They were then, by Dr. ratus, by which the blind might be taught to read,
ardon and others of the Directors, made to take isolated write, &c. in a very short time. It was invented
rds in different pages of the book, which they at once

ew; and they afterwards read slowly, but correctly, in by Mr. Purkis, brother of the musician of that name.
We took the same opportunity to observe, that we
erent parts. By repeated trials, and by varying the ex
cises, the Directors were of opinion that the art promised had many years since heard of a successful method
be of the greatest practical utility to the blind, who, it of conveying to the blind an accurate knowledge of
vidently appeared, would be able to use these books with the boundaries of countries, courses of rivers, &c.
creasing facility. Mr. Gall also stated, that the appara-
Ds for writing to, and by, the blind, was in a state of by tracing the parts with a strong solution of gum,
onsiderable forwardness. The principles had been com- upon which a kind of writing sand being sprinkled,
letely settled, and found efficient. The letters were easily formed a very palpable outline.
red, upon common post letter paper, by one motion
of the hand; and being submitted one after another, were
orrectly and invariably distinguished by the blind boys

present Scoisman.

Now, as we are not informed of the mode in which a the blind are thus enabled to trace out the characters, we shall venture to surmise that it is after the manner pointed out on the book, to which we adverted at the commencement of this article. This work, which has been for many years in the valuable library of the Liverpool Athenæum, is entitled, "Essai sur l'édueat des aveugles, par M. Henry, Paris," and was so far back as 1786. About three years ago,

printed

In the Kaleidoscope, Vol. II. page 339, published April 23, 1822, there appeared an account of a printing press for the use of the blind, communicated in letter from Geneva, the editor of which states that he had seen a letter of thirty-three lines, printed by a blind lady, without a single literal error.

We shall take an early opportunity of explaining a most successful method we once adopted for communicating with persons who are incapable of voluntary motion, from paralysis, and who can neither write nor speak a word. We believe the process which we adopted is perfectly original; we are quite sure that it is effective.

The Bouquet.

I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them."

AN IMPROVVISATORE UNDER A DESPOTIC GOVERNMENT.

[AN ORIGINAL TRANSLATION FROM THE ITALIAN OF ANTONIO PANIZZI, PUBLISHED IN THE "WINTER'S WREATH."]

We believe that none of our readers are ignorant of the meaning of the word improvvisare. It is used by the Italians to express the extraordinary faculty possessed by many of them, and accorded by nature almost exclusively to their nation, of composing verses extempore upon whatever subject may be proposed to them. In the exercise of this talent, they are frequently confined to the use not only of a prefixed metre, but of certain determinate rhymes or words. In this case, they are said to improvvisare in rime obbligate; thus, in composing a sonnet in rime obbligate, the poet must not only restrict himself to the use of that species of composition, but he must also use for his rhymes fourteen words fixed upon for him. Although there are many improvvisatori in Italy, and amongst them some who can neither read nor write, but who, being gifted by nature with a delicate ear, are sufficiently sensible to the harmony of verse to be able to regulate correctly its accent and measure; yet among all those who compose verses extempore, there are very few who deserve the name of poet.

Gianni and Lorenzi were formerly distinguished as poets improvvisatori. Bandettini, known by the name of Corilla, deserved to be classed in company with them, and demonstrated the truth of those lines of Ariosto,

"Le donne son venute in eccellenza

Di qualunque arte ove hanno posto cura."

morphosed into a French city, teemed with copies of this
composition. The affair having come to the knowledge
of the Prefect, one of those French leeches sent to drain the
blood of slumbering Italy, he thought it his duty to make
a report of it to Paris, where the thing was looked upon in
a serious light; and poor Sanvitale, as guilty of high
treason, was arrested in the dead silence of the night, and,
without either trial or sentence, or even knowing the cause
of his imprisonment, was transported over the Piedmon-
tese Alps to the Fortress of Fenestrelle. This was one of the
seven state prisons instituted by Bonaparte when he was
in the height of his glory, and afterwards (in less fortunate
times, at St. Helena, where he was himself detained a
prisoner of state) tenderly defended by him against every
reproach, with all the affection of a father towards his be-
loved offspring. So true is it, that, as is proverbially said
amongst us Italians, the horse loses its skin sooner than
its vices.

sons who observed him were police-officers, ready to arrest him on his departure from the Theatre, he immediately resolved to spare them that trouble in the following man. ner:

The young lady by whom he was accompanied, and who knew who he was, was much alarmed on hearing the danger in which he was placed; whereupon Sanvitale, taking advantage of her agitation, advised her to pretend to faint, and thus furnish him with a pretext for leaving the house with her, in order to let her breathe a little fresh air. Before he made his exit, he begged the two police-officers, who were near him, to take care of his hat, which he pretended to leave as a pledge of his inten tion to return, and also to prevent any other person from occupying his place. He then went out unmolested, since his return appeared beyond all doubt. It will easily be believed that he was no sooner permitted to depart, than he very ungallantly deserted the lady, turning his back, without ceremony, both upon her and the Theatre, to serk refuge with a friend, and permitting his hat to be im

After twenty-seven months of imprisonment in a place from which all hope of deliverance appeared shut out, as from the infernal regions visited by Dante, Sanvitale effect-prisoned in his place. ed his escape in a singular manner. The bridge of the castle The air of Milan, and of cities in general, was no longer was raised during the night time, and each prisoner retired salutary to our poet; nor were there any means of quilting into his cell, to remain shut up in it till the following the Continent, over the whole of which Bonaparte exercised, morning. In the daytime the prisoners were permitted to at that time, a despotic influence. He, therefore, thought i wander, without restraint, through the castle, from which expedient to have recourse to the country. Being provided there was no egress except by the entrance door, which with a passport, in which he was described under the na was constantly guarded by a considerable number of sol- of Micheli, Doctor of Medicine, Sanvitale was recommen diers. No one was allowed to visit the castle, except on ed to the protection of a very worthy family residing in s important business, and with a special license; some gar- delightful region of Como. To remove every suspicio den women were, however, permitted to sell vegetables which the very retired life that he was obliged to lead within the fortress, on condition that they went away in might excite, his friends gave his new host to understand the evening. Sanvitale, a beardless youth, of a genteel that the Doctor belonged to a distinguished house; that air and low stature, procured for himself the dress of a he was sent at that time by his father, rather an austere garden woman. At night fall, the moment before the man, to live in the country, and at a distance from bridge was raised, he succeeded in crossing it, protected native province, in order to break off a matrimoniale In these days Sgricci, who dares to improvvisate tra- by his disguise, and bearing on his head a basket contain-gagement formed by the young Doctor with a lady odio gedies and Petrarchal songs, has obscured the fame of his ing herbs, which appeared to be what remained unsold to his father, with whom he was violently in love: it predecessors. But none of these professional improvvisa- in the castle. The frankness with which he passed under moreover, intimated, that he was a poet, and very much tori, or any others that are known to us, have ever im-the eye of the guards, the modest deportment which he devoted to study; and that, therefore, it was not a provisated a sonnet to compete with that which we shall assumed when he heard the somewhat coarse jokes of the of astonishment that a studious man, a poet, and a lever, presently transcribe, and which, being very little known soldiers, his light step and feminine gait, and the ease should lead a life somewhat solitary and misanthropic beyond the city in which it was inspired, although it de- with which he walked under the weight of the basket of The solemn silence observed by the Poet-doctor, the serves to be known wherever there is a taste for Italian herbs, and wore his female attire; all these appearances gravity of his manners, and his secluded life, acquired fr poetry, will, we hope, not be unacceptable to our readers. contributed so well to the deception, that no suspicion en-him the admiration of the inhabitants of the village. He As it will be necessary, in order to understand it, to be tered the minds of the guards of the bridge, which was was held in still greater veneration when the master of the acquainted with the circumstances which gave rise to it,raised just as Sanvitale had reached the outward bank of house had discovered in his apartment books, not only a and as it was the cause of a persecution to the author, prolanguages unknown to him, but in foreign characte ductive of many comic and serious incidents, we shall reAmongst these, besides some Greek classics, was dist late the history of it. guished a Polyglot Bible of enormous size, of which St vitale made daily use, being at that time engaged in trade lating into Italian verse some of the beautiful pasta with which the inspired writers abound. There is doubt that, if the practice of witchcraft had not been time out of date, the Doctor would have found it diffent to make people believe that he was not in corresponde with some evil spirit.

the fosse. Friends and horses were waiting for him not far off, with whose assistance he succeeded in eluding the persecutors who were very speedily sent in pursuit of him. On the birth of the King of Rome, a contribution of But the situation of the poet was rendered very precarious poetry, as was to be expected, was imposed upon Italy. and painful by the vigilance of a police so inquisitorial A few poets, and a vast number of persons at open war and terrible as that of Napoleon, and by the tyranny of with Apollo, and all the Muses, versified in praise of the the system of passports, which makes one wide prison of son of him who had robbed Italy of her monuments of the states in which it is established, whence it is not only art, and proclaimed Rome, Florence, Turin, and Genoa, impossible for any man to depart, but where, even within parts of the French empire. Thus are the Austrian the limits prescribed to him, he cannot walk at liberty, soldiers condemned to kiss the rod with which they are or without having all his motions watched by spies. It happened that the master of the family with w scourged. About that time some young men happened After much hesitation, the city of Milan, then the capi- he had taken refuge was suddenly taken ill of a most to be dining together at Parma, and amongst them was tal of the kingdom of Italy, was chosen by Sanvitale as an lent fever, which, in a few hours, made alarming progres distinguished Jacopo Sanvitale, a youth about twenty asylum. It was out of the French empire; Sanvitale had The physician, who lived at some distance, was sent for years of age, and full of poetic inspiration. As he was many and powerful friends there; and it was a place less but, unfortunately, he was gone to pay a visit some m remarkable for the facility with which he improvisated likely than any other to excite the suspicion of being cho- farther, and in a directly opposite direction, whence most beautiful poetry, fourteen very fantastical rhymes sen by a proscribed man as the place of his retreat. Nor could not soon return. The invalid became delirious were put together, after dinner, by his friends, who re- was it to be despaired of, that, even under a government and his poor wife, with tears in her eyes, begged and co quested him to improvisate a sonnet with them, to which like that of Napoleon, a poet would be suffered to remain jured Doctor Micheli to visit him, and to suggest what he politely consented. The subject was the birth of the unmolested. thought might be of service for the moment. There wa King of Rome. As verses, worthy of being recorded, At Milan, Sanvitale lived in the most private manner, no way of escaping from this embarrassing situation but be were expected from Sanvitale, some of the company, and had already passed some months there in peace, when, yielding to her prayers; therefore, recommending him unknown to him, undertook to transcribe the sonnet whilst one evening, being at the Theatre with a daughter of the to Apollo, with whom, as a poet, he was already on friend the poet was reciting it; this task they performed cor-mistress of the house where he lodged, he heard his name terms, this new médecin malgré lui même repaired to the rectly, each of them writing only two or three lines as whispered by some one near him, and perceived himself bedside of the sick man, felt his pulse, heard from his with soon as they were uttered, all which were afterwards to be mysteriously pointed out by one stranger to another. the history of his disorder, asked minutely what were the united in the proper order. Sanvitale fulfilled the ex- From these appearances he judged that there was a design most remarkable symptoms of his complaint, and game pectations that were formed of him; the sonnet succeeded, to seize him, and that he had been walking until that good hopes of a speedy recovery. The fever beginning and the next morning the city of Parma, also meta- moment upon a volcano. Suspecting justly that the per- fortunately, to subside, the invalid fell into a doze, where

manners; his wife proclaimed, and sincerely believed,
that Dr. Micheli alone had rescued her husband from
the jaws of death.

their sole remaining pride, their only surviving prop. That child grew up all that her doating parents wished; and lovely in mind as in person, she constituted their sum The credit which Dr. Micheli acquired was greater than delicate flowers are often nipped the soonest by the chill of happiness on earth But, alas! the sweetest and most he desired it to be: from this time it was thought neces-wind, or by the blighting mildew. Her fragile form but sary, in all cases, to know at least his opinion. Dionesalvi, too easily sunk under the pressure of disease; and, like a who had great practice, and in whose hands the dark tender reed, bent beneath its own unsupported weight.science was of greater advantage to Death than Durindana Her eyes, indeed, sparkled with unusual lustre, but it was in the hands of Orlando, always suggested, in difficult the wandering meteor resembles the clear and steady effulno more like the brilliance of health, than the false glare of cases, that Dr. Micheli should be consulted; and the lat-gence of the meridian sun; and though a bright bloom ter, in short, was obliged to quit the neighbourhood, to coloured her cheek, it was not the rosy tint of vigour, but avoid committing homicide. Fortunately, a short time the harbinger of approaching ruin. The terrified parents afterwards, the fall of Napoleon enabled him to return in beheld with horror the dreadful symptoms. In an agony of mind which none besides can fully appreciate, they freedom to his native city. tried all that nature dictated, or art devised, to stop the progress of the fatal malady. But it was too late. It made rapid and gigantic strides; and hope itself was soon obliged to droop in anguish. The lovely victim saw her fate before her, but her wings were plumed for heaven, her body drooped and languished, her mind became and she wished not to hover longer upon earth. While strengthened and fortified; an undecaying spirit seemed to shine forth more visibly and more beautifully, when the mortal shroud which enveloped it was gradually falling. At length life gradually wasted and waned, until its laip darkened for ever! She was dead-bat the rose still lived shot up one bright, but quivering gleam, and then was on her cheek, and a smile still played upon the half closed lips, whose last accents had breathed the fond name of mother! And those that looked upon her could scarcely believe but that she sweetly slept.-Freedom's Journal.

upan Doctor Micheli was of opinion that it was better to leave him in peace till the arrival of the other physician, which was agreed upon, to the great consolation of the thus relieved from a serious responsibility. poet, But his joy was of short duration. When the village physician arrived, and learned that the sick man had been visited by Dr. Micheli, he protested that the courtesy due to a man of so much learning as Dr. Micheli was esteemed to be, did not permit him to see the invalid until he had had the honour of speaking to his worthy colleague. He, therefore, requested to be introduced to him, and his request was complied with. To the advantages of having received a literary and liberal education, suitable to a gentleman, and of speaking with the greatest fluency and elegance, Sanvitale united that of having some notion of We should inform our readers that these facts and names medicine, acquired by perusing the works of Tommasini, (excepting Dionesalvi) are all real. Jacopo Sanvitale is at this time professor of Clinique at the University of still living, and was Secretary of the University of Parma Bologna, and distinguished not only as a learned phy- and of the Academy of Fine Arts. He was deprived of Tician, but as a fine writer. It appeared to him im. these two situations, after having suffered, from 1822 to mediately that the disease of his host was a noxious fever, 1823, more than nine months' imprisonment, for being (febbre perniciosa,) which it was the practice, in those suspected of conspiring against the Austrians; but he was days, to cure with copious doses of bark and opium.-acquitted by the commission appointed to try him. His The physician, who was then introduced to him, and whom judges were astonished by the courage and eloquence with we shall call by the sinister name of Dr. Dionesalvi, was which he defended himself. He belongs to a younger branch much surpassed by Dr. Micheli in education and talents; of one of the most antient and noble families of Italy. Bor was he long in betraying his inferiority. Doctor Mi- The head of the family, Count Stefano Sanvitale, had the heli, seeing that he could not escape from the dilemma, title of Count revived by Napoleon, who appointed him one nd making a virtue of necessity, determined to meet it of his Chamberlains, and a Senator of the French empire; fully. Whereupon, assuming an air of importance, and Bonaparte lodged with him many times at Parma, began to give the history of the disorder, such as he had both before and after he was made Emperor. Neversheard it described, and as it had appeared confirmed to theless, Stefano Sanvitale had not sufficient interest to KE 1ẩm by his visit—using, as matter of right, the first person save his cousin from so many persecutions, neither under mala privilege conceded to sovereigns, and to me the government of Bonaparte, nor under that of his widow, el men in consultation. He concluded with saying, Maria Louisa, of Austria, with whom he is now Grand at, in his judgment, the fever was a perniciosa, sub- Chamberlain. a miting, however, his opinion to the much more learned ve of Doctor Dionesalvi. The latter was very much tattered by the compliment, and replied with an air et great gravity, interspersing his remarks with aphos and bad Latin, that he agreed in the diagnosi and in the prognosi, and finally insisted upon Dr. Micheli's visiting the patient again in his company; after he which the mode of cure was discussed. Dr. Micheli, ho had perceived that Dionesalvi was not very profound, of tra that although he larded his discourse with bad Latin, e knew little of that, and nothing of the Greek language, a dissertation more solemn than the former. He roke of systole, and diastole, and peripneumonia; cited

, Celsus, and Boerhaave; quoted Pindaric verses as phorisms of Hippocrates, and Hebrew words of the Bible being of the Arabic text of Averroe. The poor Dr. Desalvi was the more amazed at the marvellous learnog of Dr. Micheli, the less he understood it, as it most quently happens. The wife of the invalid wept for as it appeared to her that her husband could not die the midst of so much occult science, and that the words Dr. Micheli would be sufficient to frighten away Death

short, it was concluded that bark and opium should alministered to the sick man in large doses. After may mutual compliments had passed, Micheli suggested the dose of bark; Dionesalvi prescribed that of opium, and also wrote the prescription. The performance of the latter offices was beyond the reach of Dr. Micheli's aning, since he was alike ignorant what dose of opium might be prescribed with safety, and how to write a preption in the jargon, with the abbreviations and the phers which the physicians of every part of the world hare, in spite of reason, adopted, most religiously adhering to them, as to the observance of some masonic mystery, and with due jealousy preserving them from the eye of the profane.

This is the sonnet which was the cause of so many singular adventures:

Io mi caccio le man nella parrucca

Per la rabbia che propio il cor mi tocca,
Se compro vate i vaticinj scocca,

E un regio Mida canticchiando stucca:
Poi m' arrovello se Firenze o Lucca

Chitarrino strimpella o tromba imbocca
Per un bimbo che in culla si balocca
E sallo Iddio s'avrà poi sale in zucca.
Egli è del conio, è dell' istessa zecca®

Che rammenta la rana che s' impicca
Perchè l'astro del dì moglie si becc.a
Ecco che l' ugne in sen d'Italia ficca

E le trae sanguinose, e 'l sangue lecca
Ei che far la potea libera e ricca.

A frog, on hearing that the sun was married, made the following reflections: If a single sun is sufficient to dry up our ponds, and reduce us to such hardships for want of water, all we poor frogs shall certainly die in torments, if his offspring resemble him; and, to avoid a more cruel death, he hanged himself, in despair.

ELLEN,

A Sketch from " Scenes and Thoughts."

BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

HORE HIBERNICE.

NO. II.

THE POET'S GRAVE.

Partimos quando nacemos
And damos quando vivimos
Y illegamos;
Altiempo que fenecemos,
Asi qui quando morimos
Descansamos.

Jonge Manrique

To a mind fraught with feelings of even ordinary caste, the visiting the hallowed precincts of a churchyard must cause reflections to spring up in the mind, which, no other spot on earth is capable of producing. In it we see the goal to which we are all bastening-the grave. There we shall, at one time or other, "sleep the sleep that knows no breaking," released from the turmoil and trouble of this world of mingled joy and woe: the long grass will wave over our heads, and the dews of heaven will fall; the sunbeams will brighten, and the darkness of night will overshadow all around; but unnoticed and unknown to us who slumber beneath. How much are our sympa. thies increased when the earth has closed upon the son of genius, just when youth had ripened into manhood, and a prospect of worldly glory had opened for the "fell tyrant's victim!" I am led to this train of reflection from a visit I paid to the tomb of one of the gifted sons of nature, on Sunday last.

About a mile from this metropolis, in a small retired I endeavoured to learn the story of ill-fated Ellen, and lane leading from our northern road, there is a small the interesting mourner whom I beheld hovering over her churchyard surrounding the village church. Several very ashes; and I found that they were indeed the pangs of a handsome monuments adorn this burial ground, and trees, mother's heart which had caused the grief I had witnessed. planted by the hand of affection, flourish there unmolested; She had attended her husband abroad through many a sceneof trial and hardship; she had dressed his wounds in the the walls are hung with the verdant ivy, a type of antiday of battle, and she had watched over her soldier's lowly pal-quity; and its remoteness from the busy din of the city, let, with firm and unremitting tenderness; but his wounds invests it with a solitariness far from disagreeable. were healed, and he rose from his sick bed astonished at The first object which attracted my attention, was the her magnanimity, and grateful for her affection. They returned together to their native country, that they might motto of a sun-dial, over the church door, dum spectas seek a reward for their past suffering in the bosom of the fugio," an apt memento of this brief existence, as the country that gave them birth, and in the happy retirement surrounding ones were of our mortality. On the left, which they best loved. Several children blessed their union; there stood the monument which I had gone to see, a neat In spite of two doctors, mirabile dictu! the sick man but some were nipped in the bud of infancy, and the rest pyramid of mountain granite, as lasting as the fame of prematurely destroyed ere yet they were fully unfolded Recovered. Dionesalvi protested that the soul of Escu-into the blossoms. One beloved daughter-their beautiful him for whose memory it was erected: on each side of it lapius had passed into the body of the most excellent Ellen-alone remained to them. All the tender shoots was neatly sculptured a laurel crown. It stood upon a Dr. Micheli; the invalid extolled the courtesy of his were withered save this one; and her they cherished as solid and ornamental quadrangular base, and on a black

Laocoon, for instance, with the serpent writhing round his body, (of which there are four sketches, besides four of his two sons,) is represented with his right arm elevated, when, in fact, it is the left which is raised by the sculptor, and is properly the reverse of that which an impression from the engraved plate would produce; and so on of the rest of the figures throughout the book, and that it is the original of "Un Livre des Proportions du Corps Humain, mesurées sur l'Antique, par G. Audran, avec un Discours, à Paris, 1683, en fol." It is very probable that there is a copy of this work in the British Museum.— Yours, &c.

It may be here seen that each figure set down by the "In order to employ one part of this life in serious and impor- master is the complement of 9 to that set down by the tant occupations, it is necessary to spend another in mere amuse-scholars; and consequently the sum, though written dow beforehand, must be correct.