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bitter tears of self-condemnation over A detachment of six thousand men arrived those ambitious dreams. My father was in the enemy's camp, and turned effectua soldier, and bore the reputation of a re ally the uncertain fortunes of the war. nowned warrior; my eldest brother had | Our ranks, unable to sustain their imearly enlisted under his victorious ban- | petuous charge, were instantly br en, ner; and I, too, became a soldier. Never and the men precipitately fled. I saw my shall I forget the first battle in which I father fall at my side, while vainly enengaged. It was a midnight assault on deavouring to animate his panic-struck the camp of the enemy. No light was troops, and my brother perish at my feet, in the heavens; a tempest was darkly while striving to defend him. I returned gathering above us; and the air was so to my home, but the hearth was desolate. dense and still, that the noise of our The firebrand of destruction had blazed horses' hoofs, as they rapidly advanced in our halls. My mother, and those fair over the flinty ground, seemed to cleave | girls on whom my soul doated, had been the burning canopy

ded over our

dishonoured — murdered — and trampled heads. The heat was suffocating, and under foot by the barbarous soldiery. One the weight of our steel accoutrements be- || feeble old woman alone remained to tell came almost insupportable. The excite- || the dreadful tale. And this !' I cried, as ment that had hitherto sustained my spirits I stood upon the ruins of Ravenstein, began to yield before its oppressive in- This is the Baal to whom I have bowed fluence. Whither was I going? Perhaps the knee—the demon whom I have worto death. And was I prepared for eter- | shipped ! nity !—These were questions I had never

“ Ambition first called me to the probefore asked myself; and conscience could fession of arms. My country now degive no satisfactory answer. — Turning | manded my services, and honour obliged from such gloomy thoughts, the home of me to retain my sword; but I fought like my youth rushed before me, with all its one who feels himself compelled, by stern holy reminiscences, all its sacred and en- | necessity, to perform acts from which his dearing ties. My mother again pressed soul shrinks with abhorrence. me to her heart, and blessed me, with “ Peace again smiled on the desolated streaming eyes; while my fair twin sisters land; the voice of mirth and music reclung sobbing around my neck, unable to || sounded in our streets; and the toil-worn say farewell to him whom they might | soldier returned to mingle in social comnever more behold. Tears sprang to my munion with his fellow-men. But the eyes—a stifling agony was swelling in my summons which afforded such joy to the throat-I looked up to the heavens, and many was unheard-unfelt by me. I had was in the act of addressing a silent no home-no living tie-no fond heart to prayer to the Almighty, when a broad rejoice in my return—no kindred spirit to sheet of lightning discovered, from the hill welcome me. Weeds obscured the hearth we occupied, the white tents of the enemy of my fathers; and the wind echoed sulbeneath. The simultaneous crash of lenly through the blackened walls. War thunder was answered by the roar of our had deprived me of all that sweetens the musquetry, and the hurras with which | barren path of life, and left me, a lonely our soldiers commenced the attack. What || and solitary being, to brave its ills. But shall paint the scene that followed, or the hope is ever strong in the breast of youth: despair of the half-naked wretches, who | like the Phænix, it springs forth with rehad only time to snatch their weapons, | newed vigour from its own ashes. Time and rush to the unequal strife?—Shudder- | reconciled me to my situation ; .my heart ing-loathing the horrid spectacle of car

formed new ties; and life again wore a nage-I braced my nerves almost to mad- || pleasing aspect. I united my destiny ness, that I might be enabled successfully || with that of a lovely, amiable, and highto pass the dreadful trial. I obtained the born woman; my towers rose with renewed credit of performing superhuman exploits splendour from the dust ; and years of -I heard my name borne along the tide of happiness glided away in the bosom of my battle, and mingled with the shouts of vic- || tranquil home." tory. Short, however, was our triumph. ( To be concluded in our next.)

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ANT.

Translated from the Persian Poet, Sadi.

Tine has told, that a nightingale had || verdure of his haunts had vanished, and built his nest on a wide-spreading chenar not a berry was left on a shrub, nor a in the midst of a beautiful garden; and at || seedling on the ground, to cheer the faintthe foot of the same tree, a poor little ant || ing mourner. had taken up its residence, to provide for In this forlorn state, it occurred to him, the days of its frail life. The nightingale | that, not long before, he had observed an fluttered through the garden, night and || industrious ant, at the foot of his lofty day, pouring forth his melting strains, || habitation, gathering a hoard of corn; and and warbling his most fascinating melo- || the idea struck him, of applying to her in dies, to his favourite rose. The ant, in || his distress. Thus miserable, thus humthe mean time, employed every hour in bled, the wretched nightingale addressed collecting its stores; and, when so la her thus :-“My respected friend, liberboriously engaged, observing that the bird | ality is the certain indication of a great of a thousand notes was intoxicated with mind, and the first blessing of prosperity! his own carelessness and music, the little || I have wasted my days in idleness, while frugal insect suddenly exclaimed—“What you have shewn true wisdom in heaping is the use of all this twittering and chat- || up a treasure of real happiness! Have tering? And what will they avail, in the compassion on my folly, and my want, day of hunger, and under the leatless || and assist me for thy virtue's sake!" tree?"

The ant answered—“Every hour of thy The lovely seasons of the year did in- | existence has been spent in pleasure, and deed soon expire, and were succeeded by || mine in labour. Thou wast enamoured of the piercing blasts of winter. Thorns a flower all thy youth; while I have been were seen in the place of the rose; and toiling all mine, to provide for the desolathe nest of the nightingale was occupied || tion of age. Dost thou not know that by the raven. The leaves were strewed || every smiling summer is succeeded by over the plain; the breath of heaven was the glooms of winter ?—and that, to every become cold and chilly. The clouds pour- | garden, is attached a wilderness? But, ed down water, like fountains; or descend- || take of my charity; and let dust humble ed like fleeces on the barren hills.

thy heart!" The nightingale returned from a short My friends, Sadi tells ye, attend to the wandering, and was confounded at the moral of the nightingale! Gather your change. His blooming beloved had dis-harvests, while it is autumn! appeared; and he was no longer regaled part, conclude that the winter blight may with the breath of the hyacinth. The separate ye for ever! And give to them liquid notes of the unhappy bird were no that need !-and the bird will carry the more. His sweet rose had withered; the Il gifts to Paradise.

J. P.

When ye

NEW YEAR'S DA Y.

New Year's Day! What a novel sub no room for a display of novelty. Ah, ject to write upon! Yes, although there | who that does not love Old England still have been New Years' Days ever since the better, would not wish to be in bonnie creation, to the present year of the world, || Scotland at this moment-just at the 4827—of the Christian era, 1828—of the || trysting hour-just as the clock strikes flight of Mahomet, 1206—of American in twal," on New Year's morning! Where dependence, 46—of the French revolution, - where is the young, the generous, the 39—and of universal peace, 13—still the confiding heart, that will not, at such an subject is new, and of many a now un hour, look forward with the warmest looked for novelty will the new year on hopes, the liveliest, fondest anticipations! which we are entering prove the parent. Oh, that they could all be realised !

But this solitary corner of a page allows
Vo. 37.-Vol. VII.

D

Original Poetry.

LINES, WRITTEN AFTER VIEWING THE TOMB OF

ABELARD AND ELOISE, IN THE CEME

TERY OF PERE LA CHAISE, AT PARIS. BLESSED dead! blessed dead !-I have seen

the shrine Where your fond hearts rest from their mortal

woes; And a thousand hearts seemed to throb in mine, When I gazed on the scene of your calm

repose ! When mine eyes first beheld the graceful fane

That uplifts its head where your ashes sleep, I said to my soul_“ Yet they loved in VAIN"

And silently bowed down my head to weep. “ Not in vain-not in vain !” proud Hope

replied ; “ Though their tide of affection had darkly

There was a sad sweet calmness in her smile
That touch'd the gazer's heart.

I saw her first
Upon a woodland knoll; her long fair hair
Hung round her like a silken veil
From India's distant loom ; so fine it was,
So rich in its bright loveliness. The breeze
Play'd midst her tresses, and at times reveal'd
The mild and settl'd sadness of her face ;
Her eyes in their deep tenderness were rais'd
To the blue heavens. On her fair brow was

plac'd A wreath of flowers. Alas! their bloom was

gone!

And on their leaves hung heavy drops of dew,
As though to mourn their faded loveliness.
Those flow'rs were a sad emblem of the fate
Of that fair orphan. She, too, died while yet
Her spring of life was new! I mourn'd her not,
For she had liv'd till all of happiness was gone;
And died of that worst deatna broken heart !

run

Though they loved to the death_when those

true ones died, The life of the Spirit had but begun, « Not in vain—not in vain! This world's

bleak clime Is no fitting home for love's heaven-born

flower; The exotic droops, 'mid the wilds of Time,

To expand its leaves in a brighter hour.

She had no parents-none to bid her fear
Those arts, which man too often loves to use :
The orphan trusted, and she was betray'd.
Her lover left her on their bridal morn,
And wedded one, more wealthy, but less fond.
Then the poor orphan was again alone,
And she had none to pity her, nor cheer.
She never murmur'd; but each hour her cheek
Grew still more deadly pale; and she would sit
Whole days on her dead mother's grave, and

twine
The yew in chaplets for her own sad brow.

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The time of summer came—the month of Junc,
The month of roses. But, on the orphan's cheek,
There was no rose-bloom, for her vision'd bliss
Her dream of happiness had fled. He false
What had she now to do with life? She died !
I led her lover to her grave_his brow
One moment clouded_once yes, once he sigh'd
The name of Florence, and then turn'd away,
To smile with fondness on his fair young bride.
Oh! what a dream is man's fidelity!

B. B. B.

“ Thine, thine too, the love that is beaming

bright In the tender smile and the brimming eye Thou art gazing upon with sad delightOh, cheer thee! the spirit shall never die !"

L. S. S.

FLORENCE. I WELL remember her! that orphan girl, With her large melancholy eyes, that shone, In their dark beauty, like the moon, when first It lights the evening sky! Her cheek was pale, Aye, very pale, no rose-tint colour'd it; Yet she was beautiful, most beautiful !

STANZAS. 'Tis vain! 'tis vain! talk not to me

Of hope revived, of happiness ; How distant must that blessing be,

That comes to solace my distress ! The pilgrim, journeying o'er the bleak

And desert tracts of Afric's coast, Fatigued and way-worn, faint and weak,

His guide, his path, his compass lost

How gloriously above thee gleam

The planetary train ;
And the pale moon, with clearer beam,

Chequers the frosty plain :
The sparkling diadem of night
Circles thy brows with tenfold light.

I love thee not

yet, when I raise To heaven my wond'ring eyes, I feel transported with the blaze

Of beauty in the skies ; And laud the power, that e'en to thee Hath given such pomp and majesty.

If, gaily speeding o'er the sand,

Their proud steeds urged in fleet career, Some blythe and hardy Arab band

Should on the burning hills appearFeels little pleasure when they tell

Of springs beyond that arid plain : He may not hope to reach the well,

Or greet the palm trees' shade again! A scorching sun above him glares,

Around him howls the wilderness What are to him the vernal airs

That fan some thicket's cool recess ? Too distant from his aching eyes,

Too distant from his trembling feet, The fair delusive prospect lies,

And he, indignant, spurns the cheat. He knows he never more shall taste

The crystal spring's refreshing wave; He knows that, in that desert waste,

His sinking frame must find a grave ! And thus I feel, when I am told

That I shall be at peace once more. Yes! when this burning heart is cold, When life, as well as hope, is o'er !

EMMA ROBERTS.

I turn_and shrink before the blast

That sweeps the leafless tree;
Careering on the tempest past

Thy snowy wreaths I see:
But spring will come in beauty forth,
And chase thee to the frozen north.

SUSANNAH STRICKLAND.

WINTER. MAJESTIC king of storms ! around

Thy wan and hoary brow, A spotless diadem is bound

Of everlasting snow !
Time, which dissolves all earthly things,
O'er thee, in vain, hath wav'd his wings.
The sun, with all his potent beams,

Thaws not thy icy zone-
Lord of ten thousand frozen streams,

That sleep around thy throne
Whose crystal barriers may defy
The genial warmth of summer's sky.
What human foot shall dare intrude

Beyond the howling waste,
Or view the untrodden solitude

Where thy dark home is plac'd, In those far realms of death-where light Shrinks from thy glance, and all is night? The earth hath felt thy iron tread,

The streams have ceased to flow,
The leaves beneath thy feet lie dead,

And shrill the north winds blow;
Nature lies in her winding sheet
Of dazzling snow and blinding sleet.
Where lately many a gallant prow

Spurn'd back the whitening spray,
A glassy mirror glitters now

Beneath the moon's wan ray: Full many a fathom deep below The dark imprison'd waters flow.

LINES.

By Captain M‘Naghten. LOVELY as eastern sunset skies, in mellow

radiance glowing ; Bright as the last effulgent beam, thuse glorious

tints bestowing; Pure as the prayer of virgin saints—the last they

waft in dying; Mild as the lightest breath of heaven, or love's

first timid sighing; Fair as the drooping lily flower, that hangs its

head in mourning; Sweet as the modest violet, the sloping bank

adorning; More priz'd by me than all the gems this

transient world enriching; More tender than the dove's soft note, than

magic more bewitching ; Artless as slumbering infancy, in some bless'd

vision smiling; Fond as the pledging kiss of love, where there

is no beguiling; Soft as the tear affection weeps, to soothe mis.

fortune's pillow; Graceful as the unconscious swan, on the pellucid

billow; Delicious as the ripen'd grape ; attach'd as ivy

clinging; Charming as Psyche, when ther bower young

Love his flight was winging ; Dear as the balmy lips of health, the brow of

sickness blessing; Warm as the Alush of beauty's cheek, plac'd

there by fond caressing; Is she, who sheds elysian joys o'er this terrestrial

life, The friend, the love, and all combin'd in one

the tender wife.

Records of the Beau Monde.

FASHIONS FOR DECEMBER 1827, AND THE COMMENCEMENT OF

JANUARY, 1828.

EXPLANATION OF THE PRINTS OF THE FASHIONS.

MORNING VISITING DRESS.

BALL DRESS. A DRESS of Clarence-blue poplin, striped A DRESS of amber-coloured crape, with with black, with two deep scalloped two flounces, scalloped at the edge, bound flounces round the border, bound with and headed by rouleaux of satin : the two satin. Over this dress is worn a black flounces are double, each row is at some satin cloak, lined with amber-coloured distance from the other, and between them silk plush. A very large pelerine-cape | are two rouleaux of satin, set on en serpenfalls over the back and shoulders, trimmed tine. The body is en gerbe, made low, and round the edge with broad black blond, a falling tucker of broad blond surrounds set on rather full. The pattern of this the bust. The sleeves are short and full, blond is of the richest description. The and are ornamented next the arm with cloak ties at the throat with a broad, bows of amber-coloured satin ribbon. The amber ribbon, with very long ends, each || hair is arranged in curls and bows; the terminated by a rosette. A double frill, latter, much elevated, and wholly visible of white blond, finishes the collar next the | in front: between these are placed Prothroat. A hat of Clarence-blue velvet, of vence roses, and their buds. The bracea novel form, turned up on each side, like | lets are of Ceylon rubies, set à l'antique, a riding hat, is ornamented with two white in gold, with necklace and ear-rings to ostrich feathers. One towering over the || correspond. crown, the other, taking a contrary direction, floats over the brim. Though there

EVENING DRESS. is a decided air of fashion about this hat, A Dress of gros des Indes, of a beautiful, it has more originality than beauty, and bright Indian red, figured over with a deis becoming only to few faces.

licate Chinese pattern. Two flounces or

nament the border, cut in points, and are WALKING DRESS.

edged round with a rare and valuable A PELISSE of stone-coloured gros de Na- || trimming, formed of the small feathers of ples, with a very broad bias fold round different foreign birds, which have the apthe border, and down each side of the pearance of a fine fur. Green and yellow skirt in front; the bias cut in points at are the prevailing colours in this trimming. the upper edge. These points are edged || The upper flounce is headed by a row of round with narrow black velvet. The || the same delicate plumage. The body is pelisse fastens down from the waist to the made low, and à la Circassienne. The feet, with very full rosettes of the same sleeves long, white, and transparent, of material as the pelisse. The body is made | Japanese gauze, and are confined at the plain, with a double pelerine-cape, point- || wrists by two bracelets; that next the ed, and bound round with black velvet, to hand consisting of a broad Hindostan bar correspond with the bias ornaments on the of pure gold, clasped by a cameo. A row skirt. The throat is encircled by a double of large pearls forms the bracelet which ruff of lace. A bonnet of black velvet is || surmounts it. There are short, white elegantly trimmed with pink ribbon, che- || satin sleeves under these, that are transquered across in hair-stripes of black, | parent; and a mancheron, formed in edged with black satin stripes. The points, of the same material as the dress, strings float loose. The shoes worn with ornaments the shoulder, trimmed round this dress are of black kid, with pearl-grey with feathers to correspond with the gaiters. The gloves, Woodstock.

flounces. The hair is dressed in full curls

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