'Than ever yet to mortal bore 'An open hate we bear--- 'Henceforth the bless'd sun shall look dark, Thy haggard eyes shall dread to mark Thy mirror in the flood-- Thy flesh shall waste---the dewy sleep, 'For thou must know, A FOE shall keep And thro' the night, and by the day, 'And own a deep and solemn joy 'The while he feels himself decay, And now I seal my lips!' pp. 200-202. This reply of Chang is well conceived, and expressed with very considerable power-though falling short of the preternatural energy which the frantic despair of such a situation might well inspire. At length the aforesaid Mary becoming very uneasy about the consequences of Chang's desperation, prevails upon a surgeon to perform the long-desired operation. Chang, loosened from the intolerable bondage of an unnatural birth, is alone upon a hill-side commanding a wide and various prospect. A river is flowing at his feet, and all nature seems smiling upon him with sympathetic gladness. He breaks forth in a wild ecstatical glee. "Ha! ha! roll on, thou glorious Wave! Sing out, thou fresh and mirthful Air! 'Joy! joy! my free heart now can brave Your taunts 't was madness once to bear! 'The wild voice of your liberty 'Can mock my sullen soul no more! '-How bright are ye, sweet Earth and Sky, 'That were so dark before! [Motioning away a herd of cattle that approach towards him grazing.] 'Away! away! my heart is coy; And on he sped---and, aye, his tread From the herbage young the laverock sprung, Sang its hymn to the loving Spring! And the Sun shone bright---and the happy light Delight was mirrored on the Earth, Time at the Spring that saw his birth, He came unto a silent pool, Smooth lay the wave scarce rippleing, Had dull'd the light wind's crisping wing. His image in the water shown, Around his form his glad hands passing, He raised the deep joy of his eyes. The fish were glancing through the tide, Save these and God-were none beside The witness of his ecstasy !" pp. 225-226. We should conceive a more favourable idea of Mr. Bulwer's poetical talents from the minor pieces in this volume, than from the "Siamese Twins." His "Milton," although diffuse and somewhat cloudy and metaphysical, has passages of promise. But none of them would bear being quoted as fine specimens. Considered as a college performance, it is certainly clever. We like the lines on Wordsworth, although they are decidedly "lakish," and have all the faults but not all the beauties of that style. They are wordy and abstract, and cold withal, yet there is justness in the general conception of the poet's character, and a good deal of felicity and copiousness of diction, united with rather poetical imagery. The lines in italics strike us as possessing no inconsiderable merit. "How glorious and how beautiful a life Must thine have been among the hills and streams! But one gray shadow cast upon thy dreams, Yet linger---and the Ascræau's verse be true, Who o'er the sinless pastures led their herds; And undiurnal melody which breathes 'Musing on Man' amid the mountains lone, And from the full and silent Heart of Things, Didst thou not draw the patriarchal springs The embattled Murder, and the ermin'd Fraud! Lit on thine altar-sicken from their glow! From Power but poor increase: the Truth which lies . The Winds, the Waters, and their Mysteries→→ The Morn and moted Noon, the Stars which make Breathed Sanctity and Music-inspiration, But that which burns---the Centre of Creation--- Than a great poet whom the world disowns, And far Man's wrath, or scorn, or heed, above, pp. 295, 296. Upon the whole, however, we should think it more profitable to Mr. Bulwer, both for his present emolument and his future reputation, to confine himself to prose. He writes very good novels-if not the best, as they certainly are not, yet second only to those which are surpassed by none. But the gods have not made him a true poet. He can aspire to nothing that is not within the reach of persevering and cultivated mediocrity. But cui bono add another lack-lustre name to the "galaxy," as it is called, of (unreadable) "British Poets?" He may be right in thinking that the present age is not very apt to admire any kind of poetry; but it is still more certain, that there is only one kind of poetry which will be read by posterity, and such, we will undertake to predict, will never be the fruit of his pen. Our readers will have observed that we say nothing of the satirical allusions in the "Siamese Twins." We are of course, at this distance, unable properly to appreciate or even to perceive their application. We have treated the book exclusively in reference to its fitness to be republished and read in America, and to those attributes which are not confined by locality. ART. VIII.-Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions of Columbus. By WASHINGTON IRVING. 1 vol. 8vo. Philadelphia. 1831. THE success of Columbus in discovering the new world, opened to the adventurous spirits of Europe, and especially of Spain, a sphere of enterprise full of peril and privation, but as they fondly dreamed, of corresponding riches and renown. Without going out of our way, as we think Mr. Irving has done, to ascribe the ardour and fearlessness with which this field of dangerous distinction was occupied, to the fierce and long-continued warfare between Spaniard and Moor, or to the more general influence of chivalry, we can find, in the cupidity and ambition of human nature, motives sufficiently strong to have tempted to their ruin, men less fitted, by their nurture and discipline, to encounter the hardships and dangers of an unknown and unconquered world. But there was not mingled with these allurements of anticipated wealth and power any foreboding of disappointment or discomfiture. The early voyagers had returned flushed with triumph, and covered with glory. Their accidents, by flood and field, were so mixed up with tales of surprising novelty and wonderful romance, that instead of inspiring dread, they excited ambition and whetted avarice. Every scene was gilded with the brightness of their own fancies, or had caught a hue from the brilliant dreams of their enthusiastic commander. Whatever miseries they may have endured in this country of their creation, were forgotten or despised, while they described, in glowing language, not only the bright skies and blue waters and verdant fields which they had seen, but pictured, beyond the happy shores which discovery had attained, fairy-lands of unbounded wealth and surpassing magnificence. This was not all. The feverish excitement and restless curiosity which had been awakened, might have been calmed, had not reality almost outdone imagination. But scarcely had one voice of wonder died away upon the listening ears of Europe, than another caught the sound, and proclaimed some mightier marvel. Scene opened after scene, in apparently illimitable prospect, until the mind was lost in the vastness of its conceptions, and hope became a burning passion, and usurped the place of reason. |