« ZurückWeiter »
by the very persons who are to share the money. The trick has been discovered, and " Le Bien Aimé” is no longer like “ Henri Quatre,” except in the eyes of the emigrants who are to pocket the indemnity. He will, I suspect, have to do a great many clever things, before he can work himself up again with the nation. But what of that !- Apropos, there were only four Americans saw the coronation, of whom I was one think of that, and bite thy nails with mortal envy!
I am now satisfied with the glories of this world, and know exactly what is the extent of all the combined powers of the holy alliance of frippery, trumpery, and mummery. I am now ready to go on my grand tour, and shall get through as soon as I can, so as to get back to Paris in February, or as I hope in January, as I expect to get tired of putting my nose into every old pile of stone and mortar. I shall then have nothing to detain me, but a trip to Ireland and Scotland, which I intend shall be a flying one, and then for the good land of liberty and a quiet home.
Of joyous leaping spirits :-Earth, ,
My step was joy--my voice was mirth-
Can look upon his earlier years,
And reckon back his joys and fears--
His expectations bright and bland;
The gush, the flood of blissful tears?
I had some hours of shadowed thought ;
Some hues from darker passions caught ;
Was black with tempest—when the air
Was rent by the loud Thunderer ;
Has been at times my passionate,
My ardent love; and I have sate
Having no power a part to bear
I have had softer feelings : Night
And I have gaz'd on woman's eye,
And kindled at its hallowed fire ; And felt her fresh breath stealing by,
With tones as sweet as Tubal's lyre.And I have seen her bosom swelling,
To hear the softly whispered vow, As if the soul, in its deep dwelling,
Were all too full for stillness now; And then I felt as every drop
Of my heart's blood were backward rushing, And whelming spirit, life, and hope,
In its most wild tumultuous gushing. Oh! I do worship woman-bright,
High-soul'd and lovely woman—age Grows gay while living in her light;
And youth forgets his heritage From Eden and his Parent's fall,
Deeming love's dream--his Heaven-his all. I never interchang'd with men
My deeper feelings—I have kept My sanctuary closest, when
Their eyes would scan it. They ne'er wept As I would wish to weep—they never
Have felt a longing wish to die ; But feel as they could live for ever
In this world's hollow pageantry—
How can I hold communion ? Still
It sickens at the heart to keep
Ay, must, or the swell'd heart will breakFlow full and freely. I have felt
As I would give a world to shed
As if I were among the dead,
And yet there is a pride in feeling
That thoughts are mine they never knew; That though my heart may need their healing,
Grief never will the soul subdue. There is a pride in self-communion
On things men cannot feel nor share-
To some bright home of purer air
Such thoughts as these—an energy
Ere frail mortality shall die.
And give expansion, strength, to thought ; The tears they start leave not a trace,
For they are fragrant tears, and fraught With soothing power—they heal and bless The spirit in its loneliness.
I have a nameless feeling, when
I hear sweet music. I can find
No kindred eye, or kindred mind,
Too tame, too passionless—they deem
My heart's delirious joys a dream-
To feel my blood tumultuously
Press gently through the lash; and know, That though they shame my manlier years,
They have a luxury in their flow,
Too high for their conccption. Strange
That minds of an immortal birth,
Should so ignobly cling to earth,
for their soul's loveliness ; No hate for their frame's impotence ;
Degraded, slothful, powerless,
Whose passion-pulses beat like mine;
And learn'd their feelings to enshrine, Like holy things. I have liv'd years
In one short hour, spent blissfully In their communion-mingling tears,
Till I had been content to die, My spirit was so chasten'd. One
I do remember now-a maid Whose voice came o'er me like a tone
From some lost Peri. I have said How much I worshipped melody ;
And sure I am, that all the strings Mine ear hath ever heard, will die,
Ay, fade from my rememberings,
I fear-for ever; for her cheek,
Wore not the fresher hues, which speak
Was fraught with too much eloquence ;
Its full, fixed look was too intense, Too passionate—not soon to die.
She must fade soon-Oh! how the flowers, The brightest flowers of earth, do fall!
How young that hollow grave devours Life's fairest hope! How soon that pall, Like Heaven's broad mantle, covereth all!
CRITIQUE ON CERTAIN PassAGES IN DANTE.
(Continued.) (We again call the attention of amateurs to this critique. In the present instance, the explanation offered is one of the happiest we have ever seen.] GENTLEMEN,
Among the arguments I offered, in my last communication, to support the interpretation I proposed, of the thirtieth line of the first canto of Dante's Inferno, I omitted to call your attention to the thirty-first line:
And lo! not far from the hill's first ascent-* which not only points out the place of the first appearance of the panther, but shows conclusively that Dante had not yet reached the “cominciar dell' erta”—the beginning or foot of the ascent; because the interjection ecco is almost always used to denote the time and place of the first appearance of a new object, or the first occurrence of a new event. If Dante was prevented from going further by the “panther,” when this panther was only “ quasi al cominciar dell' erta," it follows of course that Dante had not yet arrived at the foot of the hill, his progress towards it being intercepted by the panther.I now pass on to another passage, which appears to me to have been always strangely misunderstood. Inf. Cant. III. v. 109, 111.
Caron diinonio, con occhi di bragia
Loro accennando tutte le raccoglie,
Batte col remo qualunque s' adagia. The commentators have uniformly made batte an active verb, and have agreed to consider this last line as meaningthat Charon, impatient at the delay,
Beats soundly with his oar the loitering shades! Let us see how this strange commentary is supported by the context. At verse 71, Dante seeing a great number of souls collecting on the bank of a river, turns to his conductor, saying,
Master, give me to know what souls are these,
In such swift haste to pass from shore to shore.. At verse 111, 117, these souls, which according to the commentators, require the stimulus of Charon's oar, (a long oar
* Ed ecco, quasi al compinciar dell' erta.