place by his reckless disregard of the humble man, living perhaps - in an world and its old proprieties. Moore obscure lodging, may sway with his was at first read, because he was pen the destinies of a country !--The proclaimed to be one whom no one author of the Sketch-book has cershould read. Wordsworth, Cole- tainly done very much towards ceridge, and Southey, rang their own menting the friendship, of his own peal of popularity, and humanely nation and ours. England respects explained each other to the world. American talent and modesty-and It would be no difficult thing to go America kindly regards English hothrough the list of modern writers, nour and hospitality. and point out some glaring affecta- We have (as which of us has not) tion, or studied singularity, by which our favourite papers in the Sketch they severally rose into distinction. .book, and we cannot resist hastily

The author of the Sketch-book recurring to them ; although we by owes his popularity to no unworthy no means insist upon their superioriarts. He has become known only by ty over their interesting companions ; the force, simplicity, and truth of his for we have heard too many differing works.-And if he be not led aside opinions on the subject, and from by the common temptations of his persons of feeling and taste too, to present elevation, he may rest con- be obstinate in our own choice. The tented, that the world will not easily volumes have been very generally forget one whom it has so slowly read, and very generally admiredand disinterestedly noticed and re- and we have no doubt, that there is garded. He may be proud of his scarcely a paper that has not its honestly-earned popularity. He champion, ready to stand or fall in made no offerings of old armour and its cause. The Tales of Rip Van costly apparel at the shrine of Fame. Winkle, and Sleepy Hollow, are rich His muse had no coronet mark in the extravagances of character and hucorner of her kerchief. He wrote no mour--but their wonders and mar, forbidden books-professed not to be yels are rather unmanageable in the wiser or more humane than the author's hands, and jostle unpleasantworld, or to build up a system of ly with the dry and stiff vigour of the universal love and harmony. He laid characters. The Pride of the Village two quiet unassuming volumes be- is a most affecting and natural story; fore the public, and left them to live the account of the Girl's parting or die as they should deserve. They with her young Soldier is full of are not yet dead.

tenderness and pathos. The openThe Sketch-book, of all the books ing description of the funeral, which written in the present writing age,-is calls for the explanation, and then the freest from those little book-make the gradual recital of the events leading arts, which betray the author's at- ing finally to the funeral again, is tempts to spin out his pages to the ad- extremely touching. The tale seems vantage of his purse. The essays which bounded by death You cannot lose it contains are all, what they profess sight of the grave throughout, but to be, brief and natural sketches see it in all the little endearments of customs, manners, and charac- and hopes of the young girl-in her ters. They are, perhaps; a little fair virtuesher hapless separation. too favourable towards the English The whole beauty of the tale is softand their country; but this amiable ened by Fate--and you seem to read it flattery may be attributed to the fair to the tolling of a funeral bell. The anxiety in a young, intelligent, and Broken Heart is more generally adardent American to escape from nae 'mired, but we own it appears to us less tional prejudices, and to do all in his natural-less simple--less unaffected. power to foster amity and deaden old It is the record of an unfortunate atanimosities. The good likely to re- tachment between two young persons sult from the exertions of this indivi- in Ireland, whose names are too well dual is, in our opinion, incalculable: known to require their repetition and one of the noblest compliments to here. There is something of the the power of the human mind is the Irish style in the manner of relating amazing influence which it has over the story. The excessive prevails. the feuds and attachments of neigh- -We say this, with great submisbouring and even distant nations. An sion, because the title and the subVOL. VI.

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ject have long since secured all fe. warm friends of Bracebridge-hall. male readers as admirers and we The difficulties of keeping a long know that an unfortunate expression story alive seem to trouble the au of distaste often embitters a drawingthor; and although there are many room for life. The present Lord sprightly and natural sketches, and Chancellor, from having hazarded several diverting characters, we some fatal opinion concerning Ma- think we detect, with regret, that Mr. dame Catalani and her music, has Murray and Mr. Davison have had never been able to hold up his head their influence over Mr. Crayon; since.The Royal Poetis a romantic and each page of his work now seems picture of James. The papers upon to have a value set upon it by the Stratford-on-Avon-the Boar's-head author and the bookseller, quite disTavern in Eastcheap-and Christ- tinct from that which it gains from mas, "are inimitable: they have a the world's love. The printing is fine Shakspearian spirit about them, wide and magnificent ;-the humour and are

more like realities than is spun out, as though it were intendessays.-The observations on Shal- ed to be more than its own exceeding low, Falstaff, and Silence.---are your great reward. The quotations and only commentaries worth reading, mottoes pay their way. In short, or worthy of the subject. The Lucy the temptations to which, at the Family, and the Mansion, are unveiled opening of these short and hasty reas by a magic handmand you look marks, we cautiously alluded, have fairly into antlered halls and for- had a certain triumph-and Bracemal picture galleries. Westminster bridge-ball is in consequence not so Abbey is a little too sentimental: ingenuous and unaffected a work as such a subject should suggest its the Sketch-book.'

#11 own orderly style--and yet how sels. But though the present production, dom we find a writer treat it quietly in comparison with one of its prede and with a staid solemnity-leaving cessors, suffers a fall, let it not be it to assert its own awfulness. Little supposed that it has not much in it Britain is, indeed, an admirable to delight and pleasure the reader. paper: the Lambs and the Trotters The plan of it is simple, perhaps, for stand pre-eminent in civic glory. a story, too sketchy. The BraceWhat a contest of city bravery !... bridge family, to whom the reader What a struggle for splendour! The was introduced in the former work, banishment of the butcher's pipe is are here led through two volumes, and Tiearly as portentous as that of Corio- the whole of their lives is carefully lanus! The mounting of the plumes unfolded. The chapters, or essays, in the bonnets of the Trotters is jare entitled and mottoed as in the "Winged-triumph complete! The Sketch-book ; and as they severally Country Church is also admirably treat of some particular subject, we written, allowing something for its shall not regularly runthread them, aristocratic feeling. The flashing but notice only such as have particuthrough the gravel of the coachwheels -larly interested us! The attempt to of the vain family--and the pulling continue a narrative through a series up of the horses suddenly upon their of essays, is, perhaps, the main fault haunches' at the church door-are of this book :the characters seem to facts. We have written without dawdle and hang about without a having the books before us to recur to, purpose, 'while the title of the chapbut we'rather think we have spoken ter is being fulfilled of the major part of the essays con- - Family Servants are well described. tained in them. We should not for- The housekeeper is fit to take her get the Spectre Bridegroom, which is place in the hall of Sir - Roger De quite dramatic ! There are a few Coverley. - Her niece, Phoebe Wilinferior papers, which we will not kins, is too much of the novel breed. particularize,-but these are to be The widow, Lady Lillycraft, is writexpected. A pack of cards does not ten with infinite pains, and is worthy consist of fifty-two aces of spades. the patience and care of the work

Having thus spoken of the Sketch- manship. Her inveterate regard of book, we shall be excused, even by the King, an elegant young the author himself, we think, if we man," and her attachment to Sir do not profess ourselves to be such Charles Grandison, are very charac

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teristic. Julia. Templeton (“ an ill a brown coat parted behind, and the phrase,-a vile phrase that !") is un- full view of the broad disk of a pair worthy the author. Christy the of drab breeches ! What a creation Huntsman, and Master Simon, are out of nothing !--The chapter on fellows of some mark and likelihood, Forest Trees is interesting. But the and do well for the parts they are long story of the Student of Salacalled upon to act. An Old Soldier manca is unaccountably dull for a introduces the character of General Spanish tale. Harbottle, but not successfully. In We have slightly gone through the the chapter entitled the Widow's first volume ; we must more slightly Retinue, we have the two best and pass through the second. The chappleasantest characters in the whole ter on May-Day Customs is agreework -- the pet-dogs, Zephyr and ably and lightly written. Slingsby, Beauty. Zephyr is “ fed out of all the Schoolmaster, is a capital fellow. shape and comfort; his eyes are He reminds us a little of long Ichanearly strained out of his head; he bod Crane in the legend of Sleepy wheezes with corpulency, and cannot Hollow, but Tom Slingsby is “ a walk without great difficulty.” Ze- man of his own." His “School” is phyr is familiar to us but who does sufficiently didactic. The story of not know Beauty? “ He is a little, Annette Delarbre is much in the style old, grey-muzzled curmudgeon, with of the Pride of the Village, but it is an unhappy eye, that kindles like a more laboured, and less purely pathecoal if you only look at him; his nose tic. The conclusion is not death, but turns up; his mouth is drawn into it is madness, arising from grief, suhwrinkles, so as to show his teeth ; in dued by the return of a lover. This short, he has altogether the look of a was a dangerous incident to manage, dog far gone in misanthropy, and to- but the author has shown great skill tally sick of the world. When he in the work. There are several walks, he has his tail curled up so tight sketchy succeeding chapters, not rethat it seems to lift his feet from the markable for any peculiar spirit or ground.”. This is Beauty! The story interest; and then follows a long of the Stout Gentleman is in excellent unwieldy narrative, called Dolph spirit and humour, and is in itself Heyliger, which carries us to the equal to anything in the former pro- Wedding, and the end of the book. ductions of the author. It is the ac- The author, in his farewell (we know count of a fat important personage at what literary farewells are), speaks in a traveller's inn, never seen but in a warm and kindly tone of our counhis effect upon others. Eggs, and try, and seems to have in his heart ham, and toast, go up to the stout that great object which we considered gentleman's room :---the chamber- him as so well calculated to advance maid comes out all of a fluster, com- the friendships of the Old and New plaining of the rudeness of the stout England. gentleman in No. 13. The landlady In our account of Bracebridge-hall, goes up to him like a fury--andi re- we have referred to its contents in a turns in smiles. The stout gentle- way that must show we consider our man is walking over-head-two huge readers to be familiar with them. If we boots are standing near the door of had never read the Sketch-book, we No. 13. - Visions of stout gentlemen should have thought twice as highly haunt the author all night-and by of the present work;~which, with all the day, noises are heard- and á its faults of haste, and sketchiness, voice calls for the gentleman's um- and repetition, is an agreeable and brella in No. 13. The horn blows+ interesting production, and may well the stout gentleman is going for ever be put on the shelves of those who a rush to the window is the result patronize pleasantly-written and well--and all that is seen is the skirt of printed books.

STORY OF AMPELUS.

FROM THE DIONYSIACS OF NONNUS.

(Concluded.)

THE FOOT-RACE. Nor though the palm of vigorous limbs had thus been lost and won, Did his companion god relax, or deem their sports were done: The breezy foot-race strife he fix'd, and many wooers brought, Who in this rivalry of love the palmy conquest sought. He Rhea's bražen cymbals hung aloft, the chiefest prize; And skins which fallow deer had worn of ruddy-mottled dies ; Then Pan's inseparable pipe, sweet-uttering vocal sound, And bull-hide timbrel roaring deep, with brassy circlet bound: Then did the sportful god a free and open space divide Upon the tawny fallow soil along the river side: The signal of the finish'd course hewn from the wood-a pole Ten spans in height, he fix'd in earth, and opposite the goal, "The emblem of a starting-post, he planted on the strand His ivied spear, and beckoning urged the satyrs with his hand. The leap-exulting god's shrill cheer inspired their motions fleet, And Leneus starting-foremost sprang, the winds upon his feet; Cissus with airy-lifted foot, and Ampelus all grace, Each in degree with leaning form plied bold his onward pace; Pressing with vaulting steps the soil, indented as they bound, The whirlwind rush of Cissus' feet still bore him from the ground; Mate to the skiey breezes close came Leneus, and the wind Of his hot breath on Cissus' back came panting from behind; And with his following foot-sole's step he beat the step before That track’d the sliding mould with marks, thus dappled o'er and o'er; And such a midmost space was left as parts the damsel's breasts, When leaning on the spindle's staff her steady bosom rests. Third from behind came Ampelus, so distanced and the last: Bacchus a jealous eye askance upon the foremost cast ; Lest then the rivals

of the race should bear away the prize,
And Ampelus with flagging pace be humbled in his eyes,
A present succour strait he gave, and breathed a supple force,
And with the speed of hurricanes he wing'd him through the course :
Along the dank shore plying fast his knees he'cut the wind,
And the prize-aiming runners left at distance far behind ;
Cissus fell prostrate on the mould ; the nerve of Leneus' knee
Wax'd slack and check'd his feet: the youth thus snatch'd the victory.
Then did the hoar Sileni loud the Bacchic outcry raise,
The stripling's triumph stunn'd them so with rapture of amaze: !!
The chief prize graced the fair-hair’d youth; the second Leneus took,
And wary of that fond deceit bore envy in his look ;
Upon his rivals lowering dark was Cissus seen to stand,
And held abash'd the lowest prize within his humbled hand.

THE SWIMMING-MATCH.
This contest o'er, the lovely youth, the comrade of the god,
Glorying in sportful Victory, a round exulting trod :
A foot-revolving circle track'd with sole that shifting glanced,
And stretch'd his hand all lily-white to Bacchus as he danced ;
And Bacchus looking on him thus, with double conquest proud,
Soothed down his spirit as he leap'd, and friendly call'd aloud:
“ Away, dear boy! once more away--another strife of specd,
Beside this second prize, invites to win another meed:
Swim with the young coeval god who mocks the grasping hand;
Be lighter on the river wave as late upon the strand.

Leave now my Satyrs in the dance to sport them as they may;
Come forth again, come forth alone, and tempt a third essay;
If on the waters, as on land, thou make the conquest thine,
I'll braid thy beauty-curling locks with berried ivy-twine :
Th' unvanquishable Bacchus twice has vanquish'd been by thee;
Thus well beseems this river fair thy double victory;
While there are glass'd thy comely limbs a double Ampelus I see.
Cleave with thy golden-tinted hand the golden-gleaming wave;
Thy naked victory-striving limbs Pactolus well may lave;
Give to the river-streams a gift like that from heaven bestow'd,
When the clear sea with rosy rays of the risen şun has glow'd;
Immerge thy splendour in the stream, that Ampelus may rise
Like Hesper when he gems with light the forehead of the skies,
The tide with ruddy metal gleams, thy limbs are lustrous too-
Receive the youth whose form is tinged with harmonizing hue !
Let beauty mix with beauty there; that I may shout aloud
When rose is blended into rose, and Satyrs round me crowd
To see that splendor one; the stream fresh-sparkling gild the shore,
And limbs with rosier lustre blush that blush'd with rose before.
Would that Eridanus, O boy! his current near us roll’d,
Where poplar-changed the sun-born maids have dropp'd their tears of old,
That I might bathe thy limbs alike in liquid amber and in gold !"

He spake, and strait was borne away upon the wafting tide,
And Ampelus sprang off from shore, and track'd the god his guide :
And sweet to both their buoy'd career, as on the river's face
Through gold-tinged whirlpools tossingly they float into the race ;
The god bore off the watery prize, and flung his bosom bare
To rippling waves, and trod the depths up-bounding here and there;
And still with nimble-stirring feet and oaring outspread palm,
He graved a troubling foamy track along the level calm.
Now the coeyal boy he kept companion of his side,
Now springing left him thrown behind upon the distant tide ;
Till now his circle-forming hands seem'd toiling with the wave;
The knee-swift god an easy prize to that stream-faring traveller gave.
And Ampelus with bridling neck uprising from the flood,
Proud of his river trophy, now in woodland covert stood;
And wreathed his ringlets round and round with ivy's serpent sprays,
And like to Bacchus, snaky-lock'd, shot terror on the gaze.

PASTIMES OF AMPELUS. Oft he beheld, as Bacchus turn'd, the skin that swept behind, Waving its starry-circled folds, whose colours kiss'd the wind; And then the foreign speckled hide around his limbs he threw; And on his light foot gaudily the purple buskin drew: And thus, with mimic glory clad in this his streak'd cymar, He saw the panther-chasing god winding his mountain car: And show'd' him sport with cave-fond beasts, whose green eyes glit

ter'd from afar. For now he climb’d the grisly neck of some clift-haunting bear, And spurr'd him on, or curb'd him strong with his own shaggy hair ; And lash'd the bristling lion now, uprouzing from his lair, And now the chafing tyger's back immovable bestrode, And press'd the velvet mottled flanks, triumphing as he rode. Then looking on with threatenings mild would Bacchus interpose, And, warn'd with friendly pitying voice prophetical of woes. “Whither away, dear boy? and why affect the forest wide ? Remain with me, where'er I hunt, a hunter at my side; And feast with me when to the board thou seest thy god draw nigh, When midst my satyrs banquetting I lift the revels high. The panther moves me not: I scorn the shagg'd bear's savageness ; Nor fear for thee th' impetuous fangs of mountain lioness;