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• There is an impulse, bidding us break through

Our prison's bounds : a world before us lies, Gladdened with glories, fascinating, new,

And fragrant How'rs and lovely fantasies :
So the soul waxes strong, and to pursue

Its noble destiny and high emprise
Will wrestle with all foes—all storms will meet,

Crushing all disappointinents 'neath its feet. • The spirit feels its dignity of birth

And destination, in the mighty strife
It holds with all the storminess of earth :

It bends not to the yoke of mortal life,
But strives at something greater-feels a dearth

In worldly luxury-in aspirings rife
It mounts on mightier wings than time's and flies

To heights which o'er heaven's highest torches rise. • It clads itself in purple like the morn's,

And walks in its imperial dignity-
Dives to the deepest seats of thought-adorns

The very dreamings which around us lie-
Wakes images of light and beauty-scorns

Th’infirmities of human destiny, Pointing to hope's own pyramid sublimeA watch-tower o'er the waves and storms of time. • First, youth's pure love develops the high source

Of intellect within him-gives it wings Heavenward to urge its passion-prompted course.

While to his breast the lovely loved-one clings, Into one maddening moment is the force

Of all existence fung- and angel-wings
Are borrowed for a time-while Hymen's breeze
Wafts two united spirits' harmonies.
"And so sweet chains surround us till we die,

And when we die, we sleep—we toil, we rest: The visions of life's morning-twilight fly

Grief cools the life-blood boiling in our breastThe buds are blown away—the fruit is nigh —

And man by time's strong urgency is press’d. On, on to labour-duty must be heard ;

She speaks in majesty the mighty word, "“Country!”—the invaders on her bosom tread:

Up to the field-he stands among the brave ; His cheeks with freedom's roseate glow are red,

And he is there to sink, or there to save.
Amidst the ghastly forms of death, no dread

Is his-indifferent if a hero's grave
Or garland wait him-if he dies, or lives,
Some brighter pledge he to the future gives.

• Trembles? He trembles as the granite trembles,

Lashed by the waves ; for the courageous heart
Bastions of brass around its shrines assembles,

Which snap or spurn away the sharpest dart.
Duty becomes delight, toil joy resembles,

And health and bliss are labour's better part ;
While love for lovely women—and for friend

Friendship-and tenderness for children-blend,
• Blend in a beauteous light. Creation's power

Flings radiance on the soul, and leads it on,
Firm as a column, through its mortal hour,

Stretching for higher recompense. Anon
Both heaven and earth their benedictions shower

On that which is their kindred, and hath won
Their own reflection --while its torch will light

Through the world's darkness and its own dark night.
• So speed we—so we sink-so disappear

So fades our little lamp--and so we fade.
Winter will scatter snow-storms on our bier,

And midnight mantle darkness round our head-
And graves will yawn—and death, with frown austere,

Fill up our hearts with ashes of the dead-
And joy will be a grief—and lust will pall
And all be tasteless, hopeless-heartless all.
And all life's painted shadows disappear,

While solitude puts out her frozen hand
To lead us, hapless, to that unknown sphere

Which ignorance has called the promised land,
And blindness, peace. Cold mistiness is there,

Clouding around that superhuman band
Which shines like moonlight rays upon the waves,

And rears green altars over mouldering graves. eeze

It may be—nay! it is—a sleep as sweet

As ever infant slept. 'Tis more: to hope
Is nothing-confidence and faith are meet

For mortals: there is an eternal scope
For immortality. When death we greet,

We greet a resurrection-and we ope
Heaven's mansions, making room for other mortals
As death wafts our poor ashes through life's portals.'

pp. 247--251. he • Hungarian Popular Songs,' are not likely to be ever tread: ular in England ; and if we extract a few of them, it is rather

rave; the purpose of shewing how little they were worth the trouble = red, ranslation. Here we have a dancing song.

* Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

Half transported, half afraid ;
To my lightly-dancing maid

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Stretch I out my arms, while she

Sees my knees sink under me:
Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

Half transported, half afraid.
* Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

Like a magpie skip I round;
When I dance, my joys abound,
And I see my maiden's knees

Trembling, just as tremble these :
Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

Like a magpie skip I round.
• Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

Still I dance in joy and fear ;
O the grievous burden here!
Heavy on my heart I feel

More concern than love can beal :
Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

O the grievous burden here !
· Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

I must throw my nadrág off ;*
Thou thy maiden-robes must doff ;
Death shall find us if thou please,

Dancing dances gay as these :t
Aching, quaking, tottering, shaking,

I must throw my nadrág off.

Hasznos Mulatságok, No. XL. p. 301, 1819.?—pp. 226, 227, The following picture of a bride, is, we hope, not very generally applicable to the Magyar ladies:- .

• I got me a bride-ah! I got me a bride,
And a pretty good portion of trouble beside ;
I have buried the peace and the joy of my life,
Which I should'nt have done had I buried my wife.
I know not what fiend with the witch has combin'd;
He dived to his den, but he left her behind :
I asked her for wine, and I asked her for bread,
And she flung first abuse—then her fist at my head.
• When I think of that excellent landlady who
Gives me food-gives me drink, and so cheerfully too;
And turn to that dragon, whom tiger-milk nurst,
My heart splits in two when I feel how I'm curst.
• Only two nights ago who had dreamt she was nigh?
When thinking and meaning no evil, not l;
I was bound to a neighbour's—the hideous one came
And vomited vengeance, and fury, and flame.

* Hadd repedjen a' szük nadrág- I must tear off my garments. + Vigán kozakost tánczolva.

« « Thou sconndrel! thou vagabond ! wench-hunting knave !"

This, this was the welcome the evil one gave;
She roared like a lion that springs from his nook ;
And, O! how I tottered, and trembled, and shook.
• How long, O thou work of the devil! how long ?
Every day thou art here does thy destiny wrong :
I know what thy doom is, I know it full well ;

But why, while on earth, am I driven to hell ?-pp.267, 268. We must now take leave of the Doctor, and when next we meet him, which we suppose will be in about another year, we hope that the Holy Roman Empire will have enabled him to stand forth as Sir John Bowring. This is now the only title he wants, in order to legitimatize the various claims which he has to distinction.

or hvidual, whexertions. ic service,

Art. IX.— The Life of Major-General Sir Thomas Munro, Bart., and

K.C.B., Late Governor of Madras. With extracts from his Correspondence and Private Papers. By the Rev. George Gleig, M.A., M.R.S.L., &c. In two volumes 8vo. London: Colburn and Bentley.

1830. The Life of Sir Thomas Munro, though not illustrated by brilliant achievements, is one that ought to be read and studied by every man who enters the public service, particularly if India is to be the sphere of his exertions. It exhibits the animating example of an individual, who, without family connections, without patronage or fortune, rose, by his own unwearied industry and practical talents, from the station of a Cadet, to that of Governor of one of our most important Indian provinces. He was elevated, too, in almost every instance, from one step to another, without any solicitation of his own, and indebted for his honours solely to the fitness which he displayed for office, and to the success with which he discharged the functions that were successively committed to his care.

The son of a respectable merchant at Glasgow, he was born in that city on the 27ih of May, 1761, and in its Grammar School received the rudiments of his education. Even in his youth, he had a character for cleverness, though not for industry; his frame was robust, and his addiction to all the manly exercises rendered him the leader of every enterprise in which his schoolcompanions ventured to engage. His disposition, open, generous, and cheerful, combined with his other qualities, secured to him the esteem of every body with whom he came in contact. From the Grammar School he passed to the Glasgow University, where he studied mathematics and chemistry, a science to which he continued, to his latest hour, to be remarkably attached, though he had no means of pursuing it. His private occupations, while at the University, when not engaged in boxing, wrestling, running, leaping, throwing stones, or swimming, were literary. Robinson Crusoe, the Lives of the Buccaneers, and Anson’s Voyages, were, next to Don Quixote, his greatest favourites. So fond was he of the work of Cervantes, that he taught himself Spanish, at the age of sixteen, in order that he might the more thoroughly feel the beauties of that immortal tale. From these he proceeded to historical literature, evincing, however, from the first, a decidedly military turn, and always retaining and fostering a romantic enthusiasm, which sheds a charm upon his whole life.

From the most unsettled parts of India, and in the midst of the most laborious employments, he osten looked back with delight upon the hours which he spent at Northwoodside, a villa near Glasgow, once rented by his father. The garden overbung the bed of the Kelvin, and commanded a delightful view of the wooded and broken banks which girdle in that romantic stream ; whilst, not far removed, was a pool, or mill-dam, known by the name of Jackson's dam, and frequently referred to in the following correspondence. Keenly and sensitively alive to every thing grand or beautiful in nature, young Munro appeared to enter upon another state of being, as often as he visited Northwoodside. If he read, it was when seated upon a rustic bench, which stood beneath a tall tree in the garden, or perched among the highest branches of the tree itself. If a fit of idleness took him, he indulged it by rambling, sometimes from sunrise till nightfall, among the woods; or he would fish the Kelvin with his brothers or companions; and, when weary of that amusement, would refresh himself by swimming in the dam. These scenes he often re-visited in imagination, when separated from them by thousands of miles; they were the sunshine of bis soul.

Young Munro, having been originally destined by his father for a mercantile life, was placed in a counting house, in which, bowever, he spent only two years. The events which took place in America, in 1778 and 1779, produced a disastrous effect upon many mercantile establishments, and, among others, compelled that of his father to stop payment. The lad had, therefore, 10 seek his fortune, and India being then the land of promise, particularly for the Scotch, who seem to have almost made it their own, the appointment of a midshipınan, on board the Company's ship Walpole, was obtained for him. He left home on the 20th of February, 1779, to join his ship; but he had scarcely taken possession of his berth, when his character as midsbipman was exchanged for that of a cadet, through the good offices of one of the Directors who was acquainted with his father. Soon after his arrival in India, the commencement of the war with Hyder Ally opened at once a field for his enterprise. He was appointed an ensign, and was engaged actively in the field during the whole of that period, so critical in our Indian annals. It is not our intention to go through the military operations to which that war gave rise. It will be sufficient to state, in the words of Mr. Gleig, that Mr. Munro

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