Read Ebook: The Mirror of Literature Amusement and Instruction. Volume 12 No. 338 November 1 1828 by Various

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 155 lines and 17684 words, and 4 pages

Mortal vain, thy course is run, Thou hast seen thy setting sun-- Told I not true when I saw thee last, That 'ere the circling year had passed, Under the greenwood thou should'st be dying, On the bloody greensward lying!

Deceived once, I tell thee never Shall my victim from me sever-- Thou hast dared to brave our hate, Rashly run upon thy fate! Thou art on the greensward dying, Underneath the greenwood lying!

The hounds bayed. The moon entered a dark cloud; and, when it emerged, its pale beams fell upon the green amphitheatre and the aged tree; but there was no one under its shade.

The following tradition is still related amongst the surrounding peasantry:--The Baron Rudolf, it is said, was enticed to sign over the bodies and souls of his future offspring to the fiend, Heidelberger, on condition that the latter would enable him to gain the person and possessions of the Lady Agatha. The contract, however, was obliged to be renewed at the birth of each child. Should he violate this convocation he granted similar power over himself; and the legend goes on to relate, that the whole of the members of the charmed circle were persons similarly enticed, who were doomed to a sort of perpetual labour, being compelled to chisel out their coffins in stone, which as soon as finished, were broken in pieces, when they were obliged to begin afresh.

The consequence of the Baron's non-fulfilment of his convocation have already been seen; his son is related to have died childless, and the property to have been dispersed into the hands of others, having never remained since his death more than two generations in one family; apparently blighting all its possessors. And the peasantry aver that the noise made by the continual labour of its victims, may still be heard by the adventurous at the close of day.

VYVYAN.

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.

Prince Leopold has succeeded in bringing to perfection that extraordinary exotic, the air plant. It is suspended from the ceiling, and derives its nourishment entirely from the atmosphere.

Kynaston's Cave.

M.L.B.

The Selector;

and

Literary Notices of

Miss Mitford's tragedy will, however, be read with considerable interest in the closet, and fully to appreciate its beauties, every one who has witnessed it, ought to read it; for many of its "delicate touches" must be lost in the immense area of Drury Lane Theatre. The plot is simple, and is effectively told; but as the newspapers, daily and weekly, have already detailed it, we shall confine ourselves to a few passages, which, in our reading, appeared to us among the many beauties of the drama.

PROGRESS OF RIENZI'S DISAFFECTION.

Hatred-- And danger--the two hands that tightest grasp Each other--the two cords that soonest knit A fast and stubborn tie: your true love-knot Is nothing to it. Faugh! the supple touch Of pliant interest, or the dust of time, Or the pin-point of temper, loose, or not, Or snap love's silken band. Fear and old hate, They are sure weavers--they work for the storm, The whirlwind, and the rocking surge; their knot Endures till death.

RIENZI'S TRIUMPH.

Hark--the bell, the bell! The knell of tyranny--the mighty voice, That, to the city and the plain--to earth, And listening heaven, proclaims the glorious tale Of Rome reborn, and Freedom. See, the clouds Are swept away, and the moon's boat of light Sails in the clear blue sky, and million stars Look out on us, and smile.

Hark! that great voice Hath broke our bondage. Look, without a stroke The Capitol is won--the gates unfold-- The keys are at our feet. Alberti, friend, How shall I pay thy service? Citizens! First to possess the palace citadel-- The famous strength of Rome; then to sweep on, Triumphant, through her streets.

Oh, glorious wreck Of gods and Caesars! thou shalt reign again, Queen of the world; and I--come on, come on, My people!

CLAUDIA'S LAMENT FOR HER HUMBLE HOME.

Mine own dear home! Father, I love not this new state; these halls, Where comfort dies in vastness; these trim maids, Whose service wearies me. Oh! mine old home! My quiet, pleasant chamber, with the myrtle Woven round the casement; and the cedar by, Shading the sun; my garden overgrown With flowers and herbs, thick-set as grass in fields; My pretty snow-white doves: my kindest nurse; And old Camillo!--Oh! mine own dear home!

AMBITION.

Alas! alas! I tremble at the height, Whene'er I think Of the hot barons, of the fickle people, And the inconstancy of power, I tremble For thee, dear father.

RIENZI'S WRONGS.

THE USURPER.

He bears him like a prince, save that he lacks The port serene of majesty. His mood Is fitful; stately now, and sad; anon, Full of a hurried mirth; courteous awhile, And mild; then bursting, on a sudden, forth, Into sharp, biting taunts.

New power Mounts to the brain like wine. For such disease, Your skilful leech lets blood.

RIENZI ON HIS DAUGHTER'S MARRIAGE.

A bridal Is but a gilt and painted funeral To the fond father who hath yielded up His one sweet child. Claudia, thy love, thy duty, Thy very name, is gone. Thou are another's; Thou hast a master now; and I have thrown My precious pearl away. Yet men who give A living daughter to the fickle will Of a capricious bridegroom, laugh--the madmen! Laugh at the jocund bridal feast, and weep When the fair corse is laid in blessed rest, Deep, deep in mother earth. Oh, happier far, So to have lost my child!

FICKLE GREATNESS.

Thou art as one Perched on some lofty steeple's dizzy height, Dazzled by the sun, inebriate by long draughts Of thinner air; too giddy to look down Where all his safety lies; too proud to dare The long descent to the low depths from whence The desperate climber rose.

RIENZI'S ORIGIN.

There's the sting,-- That I, an insect of to-day, outsoar The reverend worm, nobility! Wouldst shame me With my poor parentage!--Sir, I'm the son Of him who kept a sordid hostelry In the Jews' quarter--my good mother cleansed Linen for honest hire.--Canst thou say worse?

CIVIL WAR.

The city's full Of camp-like noises--tramp of steeds, and clash Of mail, and trumpet-blast, and ringing clang Of busy armourers--the grim ban-dog bays-- The champing war horse in his stall neighs loud-- The vulture shrieks aloft.

FEAR.

Terror, not love, Strikes anchor in ignoble souls.

THE CAPITOL BELL.

The passage between commas is omitted in the representation, but we know not why.

It is the bell that thou so oft hast heard Summoning the band of liberty--"the bell That pealed its loud, triumphant note, and raised Its mighty voice with such a mastery Of glorious power, as if the spirit of sound That dwells in the viewless wind, and walks the waves Of the chafed sea, and rules the thunder-cloud That shrouded him in that small orb, to spread Tidings of freedom to the nations."

RIENZI'S FALL.

And for such I left The assured condition of my lowliness,-- The laughing days, the peaceful nights, the joys Of a small, quiet home--for such I risked Thy peace, my daughter. Abject, crouching slaves! False, fickle, treacherous, perjured slaves!

Oh, had I laid All earthly passion, pride, and pomp, and power, And high ambition, and hot lust of rule, Like sacrificial fruits, upon the altar Of Liberty, divinest Liberty! Then--but the dream that filled my soul was vast As his whose mad ambition thinned the ranks Of the Seraphim, and peopled hell. These slaves! These crawling reptiles! May the curse of chains Cling to them for ever.

LIBERTY.

For liberty! Go seek Earth's loftiest heights, and ocean's deepest caves; Go where the sea-snake and the eagle dwell, 'Midst mighty elements,--where nature is. And man is not, and ye may see afar, Impalpable as a rainbow on the clouds. The glorious vision! Liberty! I dream'd Of such a goddess once--dream'd that yon slaves Were Romans, such as rul'd the world, and I Their tribune--vain and idle dream! Take back The symbol and the power.

We can well imagine the effect which Mr. Young gives to some of these eloquent passages. They are full of poetical and dramatic fire. Indeed, we know of no professor of the histrionic art who could give so accurate an embodiment of Rienzi--as Mr. Young, the most chaste and discreet, if not the most impassioned, actor on the British stage. Again, we can conceive the force of these lines in the manly tones of Mr. Cooper:

I know no father, save the valiant dead Who lives behind a rampart of his slain In warlike rest. I bend before no king, Save the dread Majesty of heaven, Thy foe, Thy mortal foe, Rienzi.

THE BOY'S OWN BOOK.

The sight of this little book, as thick as, and somewhat broader than, a Valpy's Virgil, will make scores of little Lord Lingers think of "bygone mirth, that after no repenting draws." It is all over a holiday book, stuck as full of wood-cuts as a cake is of currants, and not like the widely-thrown fruit of school plum puddings.

As it professes to be a complete encyclopaedia of the sports and pastimes of youth, it contains, 1. Minor Sports, as marbles, tops, balls, &c. 2. Athletic Sports. 3. Aquatic Recreations. 4. Birds, and other boy fancies. 5. Scientific Recreations. 6. Games of Skill. 7. The Conjuror; and 8. Miscellaneous Recreations. All these occupy 460 pages, which, like every sheet of the MIRROR, are as full as an egg. The vignettes and tail-pieces are the prettiest things we have ever seen, and some are very picturesque.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet